#spent over an hour spitting this out into a text post

[thegreathomestuckreread]

been spinning my wheels again about whether or not i'm autistic

it would explain. so many things. and i feel like a lot of my experiences make so much more sense with that lens of processing the world applied to it

like at this point i've got over a decade of scattered research and reading trying to figure this shit out, including results from a smattering of self-report assessments where almost all of them place me in the autistic scoring range

but more recently all that's brought me to like. the emotional intensity of the autistic experience seems like a pretty crucial piece of the picture and i don't think i really meet that?? things like, i'm a highly empathetic person, but i don't think it's autistic high empathy, not debilitating like my high school friend who once started crying because i was describing an animal video to them. i have a hard time crying actually, it's something i do very infrequently. that's just one more specific example but just like in general, from what i can see the burning overwhelming intensity of emotion is kind of a really big part of the autistic experience, and i don't think i'm there, or at least not there with enough regularity for it to be like A Thing

and like i don't think i've ever had an experience that would fit the description of an autistic meltdown, or an autistic shutdown. i mean, maybe some of my experiences could fit into descriptions of a shutdown, but idk if the same intensity is there, and even if it is the frequency seems way too, well, infrequent to qualify. anything that might fit the description of a meltdown i think would be much better described as just a plain ol' emotional breakdown. and along the same lines i don't think i've ever experienced what would be called sensory overload

like even as a child i don't think the slipper fits on this stuff, i was perhaps a bit more emotionally intense than my peers but not like my autistic childhood best friend was, i didn't even really have tantrums that could have been mislabelled meltdowns

but there's so much other stuff that just makes so much sense. [i had a whole huge paragraph here but i've cut it and put it under the readmore at the bottom to cut length]

there's more. it's a lot. i've been adding things to this paragraph for at least 20 minutes now, maybe closer to 30. like there's a very good reason that i am still on this research thread after so many years. i just can't shake that i could be reading it all wrong

like all of the stuff i talk about causing me stress or whatever, i'm getting the sense that it's not with the same intensity as the autistic experience of that stress. like it really stresses me out yeah, but like. not enough maybe??????????? and that's kind of the thing with most of these traits i guess, i'm questioning whether i actually experience them with enough frequency and intensity that they would fall under autistic experiences

and like, i'm not going to seek professional assessment, because even with a diagnosis i don't know what that would do for me as an adult. the accommodations i got in school for my chronic illness covered any time i needed accommodations for brain reasons while i was in school, not like i plan on going back. and idk what i could even ask from a professional working environment

and at the end of the day if i'm not even seeking that what does it matter???? like can i not just exist as i am and keep using the tools that help me regardless of whether or not i may qualify as Diagnosably Autistic? i guess it all comes down to like, i don't want to water down what autism means by calling myself autistic if that's not really it. it would just be really nice to know why these things are hard and know there's a community of people who understand that. it just feels like if that's not it then what have i been doing wrong? if that's not it what am i doing wrong?? bluh

the childhood bullying and being confused as to why people didn't like me, the intense social anxiety in high school, struggling to start and end conversations that don't serve a logistical purpose, difficulty maintaining or initiating small-talk, how fucking hard it is to maintain friendships especially over time and distance, forgetting to fucking talk to people lol, literally all of the close friendships i've ever had being with people who are autistic or adhd or both, all of those people looping me in as neurodivergent without me even saying anything about it, my ex who said that when they were confused and frustrated trying to figure out what the fuck my deal was and complaining to their mom the two of them would use autism as a lens to talk out what the fuck my deal was and it was genuinely very helpful lmaooooo, my general inclination towards just telling the truth and how stressed i get about lying and dishonesty, the 'picky eating', the chewing the shit out of my lip, constant fiddling with my clothes and jewellery, being a 'high-energy child' (my mother's words) aka hyper bouncing off the walls, the specific noises that made me cover my ears and run away as a child (ripping up the bathmat and the sound of the vhs rewinder going really fast), the amount of stress i feel in unpredictable situations or when plans change unexpectedly or when i'm not prepared for a situation, how untethered i feel without some semblance of routine, the empty state of my brain when plans change and i don't know what to do with myself lol, how stressed the thought of not being in control of myself or being in an uncontrollable environment makes me, my systematizing and sorting and categorizing and organizing, when i learned what even numbers were as a child and immediately thought "those are my favourite numbers because they can be divided neatly", how i often speak in fractions and percentages, my attention to detail and noticing small details others don't (and sometimes having to pretend i don't notice things so i don't come across as 'nitpicking' or 'creepy'), researching and researching and researching for the smallest decisions, being overwhelmed with excessive options and just shutting down and not doing anything, general excessive indecisiveness, my god the fucking 'procrastination' on school assignments and communications and fun things that i would like to be doing, my 'literal' reading of school assignment outlines and surprise at seeing how classmates could twist the assignment and still do very well, my multi-year intense interests such as the sims 3 and homestuck and animal crossing, the fact that even when i play the sims i forget to make my sims talk to people until i realise their social meter is really low lol, how i lost so many things as a child, how if i don't have a written prioritized to-do list i tend to just faff about aimlessly and forget everything that i need to do and/or not get most or all of it done, the genetic factor of it running in both sides of my family

[muldermuse]

What's your emergency? (Gator Tillman X F!Reader)

This is in the two sinners world. Reader is bored and needs Sheriff Gator's help with something.

18+ only!! Smut ahead!! Fic includes piv sex, rough oral (m receiving), spitting, swearing, infidelity kink, actual infidelity, reader is called a whore, reader just uses men tbf, housewife roleplay, sir kink. Just like all two sinners posts, infidelity is a huge part!! Please don’t engage if any of the above is not for u.

send through two sinners reqs/ideas/thots

thank you everyone for the engagement with all two sinners works!!!!!!there will be more please enjoy pure smut- you all deserve it and more ❤️

One of the worst parts in living in this dump of a town is that there’s nothing to do. You’ve got the week off and you’ve officially run out of things to do. The house is pristine, your skin is glowing and you’ve exhausted your social battery with brunch dates with friends. You’ve seen Jax, Steve and Jenson once. Jax took you out for breakfast at your favourite diner, then he came back to your home and built some flatpack furniture that you’ve been avoiding for months. You sucked his dick until your jaw locked as a thank you. The day after, Steve dropped off lunch (vegetable soup and a bagel) and fucked you slowly in bed, pressing hot kisses to your neck and whispering about how good you felt under him. Jenson picked you up from a night at the bar with your friends, he went to a drive thru for you and let you choose the radio station for the drive home. He dropped you off at home and returned 8 hours later when you’d awoken. He brought some hangover remedies with him and made you pancakes. You spent the day entwined on the sofa, watching some shitty reality show he swore you’d never get him to watch. You’d text Gator a few times in the week but he was too busy to come over. 

It was Saturday and the boredom was starting to set in to your bones. You were getting restless. There was nothing to do. There was no excuse to get Gator to come over. Unless…there was.

[sent at 12:32] You:emergency at the house 

[sent at 12:32] You: need u to come over

[received at 12:33] Gator🐍💩: too busy sry

[sent at 12:33] You: but its an emergency???????

[sent at 12:33] You: ur meant to be a sheriff

[received at 12:35] Gator🐍💩: i am a fuckin sheriff

[received at 12:35] Gator🐍💩: and ur fuckin desperate for attention 

[received at 12:35] Gator🐍💩: way too busy for ur shit today

He’s right, he is a Sheriff and you’re a member of the local community in desperate need of help.

***

You know that Saturday shifts are quiet for Gator, which would be surprising but Roy would never give his son any real responsibility after he’s fucked up so much. Gator’s on patrol so any call goes straight to him. You know this is crazy, you’re calling 911 to get someone to come over and fuck you. This is unhinged but you are really fucking bored. 

“911- what’s your emergency?”

“Hi, I’m sorry this might some really dumb” Your voice is a tilt higher than it usually is. “But, I’m home alone right now and I swear I just saw two big guys standing at my back window looking at me…I’m just a b- well to be honest, I’m really scared and would like someone to come and check it out- y’know make sure I’m safe”. The call handler is really helpful and tells you that you’re not being dumb and you definitely did the right thing. 

“I don’t know if you’ll be able to do this but could you tell me which Sheriff will come out and check for me? Just y’know with two random men standing outside, I’d like to know who’s coming to the house.” Your voice is so high, you can feel your vocal chords straining. 

“Yes of course ma’am. It’ll be Sheriff Gator”

You thank the call handler and run to get ready. 

***

You put on a short dress which you know drives Gator wild. It’s just a hair too short and if you bend slightly too much, Gator will be able to see his favourite pair of red lace panties underneath. Your tits look amazing and your hair is down, perfectly shaping your face. You decide you’re going to play a game with him as you’re applying a sickly sweet lip gloss to your pout. 

He usually knocks on your door loud but this time it’s like he’s punching your front door. You pull it open and he looks so pissed. His gaze is hard set on you and when gulps when he sees you in the dress but his eyes do not give any level of desire away.

“This is fuckin’ too far…even for you, this is fuckin’ crazy”.

“Sorry, are you Sheriff Gator?” Your voice has the same high tilt it had on the phone  “The lady on the phone said it would be you, I’m home whilst my husband is at work and I thought I s-“

“Your husband? What husband?” He huffs, “this is your fuckin’ house. You’re not even wearin’ any rings. What the fuck are you doin’?”

You smirk at him; he’s so fucking obtuse. “Can I show you where I saw the scary men? Maybe grab you some lemonade for comin’ all the way out here?”. You hold your hands behind your back and smile at him softly. He blows his disposable vape in your face as he pushes past you. You smile to yourself as the shut the door behind him, silently putting the latch on. 

He’s stood awkwardly in your kitchen, if you were acting as yourself you’d ask him why he’s behaving like this but, you’re committed to the role of the bored housewife so you tell him sweetly “I’ll get you that lemonade, Sheriff”. You grab the jug out of the fridge and reach up as high as you can to grab two glasses on the highest shelf. Of course, there’s more accessible glasses in the cupboard but reaching up means you can stick your ass out and show Gator his favourite panties as your dress rides up. You can hear him grumble behind you as you try to act oblivious to what you’re doing. You hand him the glass filled with lemonade and he keeps eye contact with you as he downs the drink in one gulp.

“Is it thirsty work stoppin’ all those bad guys, Sheriff?” You move over to stand in front of him and run your fingers down his chest. “My husband isn’t brave enough to be a Sheriff, sometimes I wish I had a brave man around the house- y’know?”. You bite your bottom lip as you look up at him with bright eyes. Your nails trail lower down his chest until you feel his hard dick in his pants. You softly rake your nails over it and you hear him gasp at the touch. You get on your tiptoes and press your lips to his ear and whisper, so fucking soft, to him “Are you a brave man, Sheriff?”. When you look at him again, his eyes are glazed over with lust.

“Maybe we should um- y’know, check upstairs. Make sure that there’s no one hidin’ in your bedroom” He stutters.

You’ve fucking got him.

***

You lead the way on the stairs, ensuring that you’re a few steps in front so Gator can see up your dress. You can feel yourself getting wetter with every second. You’ve roleplayed with other guys before but never with Gator. He’s a simple man. He just wants to make himself and you cum. He sees no point in playing around when it’s wasting time that he could have your thighs shaking around his head. But you know he’s enjoying this. With this situation, he’s a noble Sheriff doing his duty and you’re the whore who fancies him so much you’re going to break the sanctity of marriage.

You open the bedroom door and sit on the bed expectantly. You’ve made most of the moves up until this point, you want to see if Gator is as into this as his erection would suggest. He vapes as he looks around your room, opening your closet door and the door to your en suite to ‘check’ for any home invaders. When he’s finished peering through your bedroom, he holds up little trinkets placed on your cabinet, smirking as he looks closely at stuff he’s probably never noticed before (Gator is never in your bedroom unless he’s fucking you and he’s usually too focused on how hot you look when you cum to notice a old Barbie placed near some books).

“So uh, your husband, what does he do?” You stay seated as he chats to you.

“He’s a banker in the city, works late or the weekends lot of the time- so I’m here feelin’ lonely pretty often”. You impress yourself with the quick lie, Gator smirks as he makes his way over to you. He stands in front of you and puts his hand on your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

“S’shame. Pretty lil’ thing like you should never feel lonely. Anyone could break in and hurt you, some bad men around these parts”. His grip on your chin gets firmer, you look into his eyes rather than the bulge in his pants which is inches away from your face.

“Good job you’re here Sir, big strong guy like you can stop them- right?”. Gator loves being called Sir, it makes him feel so fucking powerful that it’s nearly guaranteed to make him cum during sex. One time, he had been fucking you from behind and pulled your hair to look at you. Your voice was nearly gone from moaning so when, in the whiniest voice you could muster, you called him Sir and asked him to cum inside you- he finished immediately. Cursing himself for cumming so quickly. You don’t say it often, terrified of it losing its power but it never does. The memory of that night turns you on even further and you feel like it’s time to hurry this along.

He swiped his thumb across your bottom lip and you open your mouth obediently- doe eyes still gazing up at him. Gator smiles as he places two fingers on your tongue, you can feel your mouth starting to fill with saliva with the obtrusion.

“Y’gonna thank your local Sheriff baby? I drove out all this way for ya. Y’gonna fuck me in your husband’s bed like a whore?” You keep your eyes locked on his dark gaze as you nod at him. He withdraws his fingers from your mouth but instructs you with a gruff voice to “keep your fuckin’ mouth open”. He has a smug grin on his face as he unzips his pants and eases his hard dick out of his boxers. “Bigger than your husband, baby?” he asks as he taps the plush head against your wet tongue.

“Uh huh” your mouth has been open for that long that drool is staring to slide down your chin. Gator notices and rubs his dick against spit, the lower part of your face feels tacky with a mix of your spit and his precum glistening against your skin. He fists your hair and pushes your head onto his cock. “Clean up your fuckin’ mess for me”.

You breathe through your nose as you take his cock down your throat. Trying to stifle the gag as your nose pushes into curled hairs at the base of his cock. He grips your hair in his fists and moves your face up and down his length. You can feel spit dripping down from your mouth onto your tits as he essentially uses your throat as a fleshlight. He pulls your mouth off him and you take a second to catch your breath. Your hair is messed from his fists grabbing at it and your eyes are glassy and peering up at him. He smirks as he pulls you back onto his cock and you take him all the way down your throat. He groans at the feeling, “suckin’ my dick whilst your husband is at work huh? Lettin’ me use this fuckin’ throat while he’s making money”. He thrusts his cock into your mouth one more time and you back off it with a gag as he instructs you, “hands and knees on the bed baby. Arch that back so you look nice n’ pretty”.

***

He teases you before he puts his cock in you. This is the first time you’ve ever been completely submissive to Gator so he’s probably making it last for as long as possible, knowing that the next time you have sex it will be him begging to cum. He spanks your ass hard and you whimper a “thank you Sir” which makes him do it again harder. He taps the head of his cock against your clit and you moan at the contact. You can imagine the smug smirk on his face as he does it, undoubtedly feeling how wet you are from playing the role of the lonely whore of a housewife. He finally pushes the tip of his cock in you and grabs your hips tightly before you can push your ass back to take all of him.

“Nu-uh baby, need to hear you beg for all of it” his voice is the smuggest you’ve ever heard it and you know he’s not going to last long. The power he currently has over you making him close to the edge already. His grip on your hips is bruising as you hear above you in a taunting voice, “c’mon, aren’t you goin’ to show the Sheriff what a good girl you can be?”. You hate how wet his mocking tone of voice is making you. You’ve never felt as desperate for him and it pains you to admit.

“Please put it all the way in Sir, I’ll be a good girl pl-“ before you can finish begging, his cock fills you. His thrusts are ruthless and unrelenting but you can’t hear anything over your own moans and the squelch of your wet pussy taking all of his cock. Your mouth is hanging open and you can feel your eyes roll into the back of your head as you slur ‘thank you’s to him. His hands haven’t left your hips and, similar to your throat, he’s basically just using you to make himself cum and the thought of that sends you over the edge. You cum over him with a shouting cry and shaking legs. In the daze of your orgasm shuddering through you, you can hear Gator grunt “gettin’ too fuckin’ tight baby. Gonna make me cum so fuckin’ deep”. He talks himself to his orgasm as he slams his hips into you a final time. You can feel his legs twitching behind you before he pulls out and lies on the bed next to you.

You press a chaste kiss to his sweating forehead before getting up and walking towards your bathroom. “My husband will be back soon so you need to leave”. His radio crackles into life when you shut the door so he leaves (as usual) without saying goodbye.

He sends you a text a few hours later.

[received at 20:37] Gator🐍💩: need to do that again asap. U be the sheriff next time????

[lost-in-fandoms]

Part 2 from this post. Here part 1. This is not very happy, I'm sorry.

cw: (sort of) discussion of dub-con of the heat variety, mentions of sexual content.

Hissing+growling

It's late afternoon when Daniel comes out of the bathroom, holding his shirt in his hands and considering if it would be worth it to put it back on again.

Max is asleep now, splayed under the sheets with a small frown on his face, but the room is still permeated by the sweet smell of hormones and the sticky one of slick and cum, and Daniel can tell the heat is not quite over yet. It makes some alpha part of him deeply content, to have their scents intertwined like this and a satisfied omega in his bed, despite all the other mixed feelings turning in his brain at the moment.

He had finally managed to talk to Christian, just before his shower, to inform him and also to ask what the fuck, and the man had confirmed what Daniel had suspected since the night before: this was not one of Max's scheduled heats. It probably was part of the reason why it had hit Max like that, hard and fast, barely giving Daniel any time to get him out of the club and to the hotel without giving their pr people a massive headache.

And now he is left with this: Max naked and spent in his bed, and a very big question mark above the state of their personal and professional relationship.

He's considering slipping back into the sheets, alpha instincts screaming at him to go back to touching his the omega, or maybe texting Michael to have a big freak out about the whole situation, when someone knocks at the door.

He makes it over as quickly as possible, knowing it's probably the food he has ordered for himself and Max, but he still hears Max shift behind him, making a small snuffling sound that makes Daniel smile.

He's still smiling as he drags the little food cart inside, turning into the room, ready to feed his the omega, a good morning on his tongue when Max hisses at him.

It almost happens in slow motion. Daniel turns towards the bed, meeting Max's wide eyes. Max recoils, sitting up so fast Daniel can almost see him getting dizzy. Max's confused expression flickers to fear for a second before shuttering closed. And then he hisses at Daniel.

Daniel instinctively steps back, raising his hands and curling his shoulders inwards, trying to make himself as non-threatening as possible, brain already scrambling to find the reason why Max is upset.

"Max, what..." he can't even finish the question before Max is hissing again, pulling the sheets higher to cover his chest. His hands are shaking.

"Max," Daniel tries again, softer this time, forcing the hurt out of his voice, every alpha part of him screaming to fix this. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Max shakes his head, baring his teeth a little, pressing his back into the headboard harder.

"What did you do to me?" he bites out, voice hoarse. Images from the last twelve hours surge through Daniel's mind, Max opening up so well for him, moaning around his knot, drool on his chin, tears streaming down his cheeks. Max on his hands and knees, back arching under Daniel's hand. Max pulling at Daniel's hair, dragging his face into the crook of his neck, right above his mating gland.

"I didn't do anything, mate," Daniel answers, knowing immediately it's the wrong thing to say when Max hisses again.

"You, you...knotted me!" There's a blush high on Max's cheeks, spreading further as he spits the words, embarrassment and anger mixing in a dangerous cocktail.

"Yes? You were in heat, and you asked..."

"I would not ask!" Max interrupts him, fists closing harder around the sheets, voice growing louder and higher. "You should have left me!"

It's a hit to Daniel's ego, this straight up refusal from Max that he would even want to spend his heat with him, but he decides to save that hurt for later, having bigger problems at hand.

"Max," he says, forcing himself to keep his voice patient and level, "I couldn't have left you like that, you were in pain. And you did ask me."

"Then you should have said no!"

Daniel doesn't understand. He gets it, that Max is confused, probably still a little out of it from his heat, but Daniel had been good to him. He had treated him right. He doesn't understand where all this anger and fear is coming from. He was helping!

"Listen, if you tell me who's your usual heat buddy I will call them for you, okay? So they can help you with the rest of it." It hurts, to even suggest it. No part of his alpha instincts wants him to leave the omega alone, no part of him wants to leave Max like this, but he knows how important it is for omegas to be comfortable during their heats, and if Max isn't comfortable with him anymore, then they'll have to sort this all out another time.

He's expecting Max to relax a little, but he bristles instead, blush deepening.

"Fuck you, I do not have a heat buddy," he spits, crossing his arms. Daniel's traitorous eyes linger a little on the swell of his chest under the sheets, the bulge of his biceps, before he's able to get a hold on himself.

Wait, no heat buddy?

"Max, was this the first..."

Again, Max doesn't let him finish, hissing loud and angry at him. Daniel's brain stumbles, too much sudden confusing information, and he fucks up.

He growls back, irritated.

The reaction is immediate. Max's eyes widen and he slumps, bowing forward until his forehead is almost touching his knees, back of his neck exposed in submission even before Daniel has the chance to start being horrified in himself.

"Shit," he swears, taking a step towards the bed and then stopping when Max flinches. "Max, I didn't mean..."

Max's shoulders are shaking. Daniel feels nauseous.

"Max, I swear, I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry."

He backs away until he's pressed against the wall furthest away, watches as Max slowly straighten his back, pulling the sheet up with him. There's a blankness on his face that wasn't there before. The room smells sour, upset omega scent overpowering everything else.

"I want you to leave, Daniel" Max says, his voice just as flat as his expression.

Daniel doesn't know if his body is supposed to feel like this, if his heart is supposed to be beating this way.

"Max, I'm sorry," he pleads, some part of him acutely aware that if he leaves this room now, they'll never be the same. He'll never be the same.

Max doesn't say anything else, just looks down at his lap, looking small in the dirty sheets, distressed scent like hands around Daniel's throat.

Daniel picks up his phone and wallet, weirdly glad he had gotten dressed again before opening the door so he doesn't have to prolong this strange walk of shame now. He feels disconnected from his own body, everything feeling wrong wrong wrong.

"You should call Christian, let him know when you'll be leaving," is somehow what his voice decides to say, instead of any of the questions and apologies his brain is currently screaming.

He just barely hears Max's first sob over the click of the door locking behind him.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

341 days of foreplay

A/N: this used to be my most popular fic on here before I accidentally deleted everything. originally posted back in march/april, was some of the first smut I ever wrote, so keep that in mind, there's probably so many mistakes in this, I haven't edited it. also I changed the title, it used to be called i should've worshipped you sooner (gif in the moodboard is by my love @fightingdragonswithwho )

summary: Spencer overhears his roommate, Y/n, confess her true feelings for him.

warnings: Spencer Reid x reader, smut, roommates, drinking, chess, love confessions, kissing, orgasm denial, alcohol consumption, oral (male and female receiving), impact play, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, fingering, creampie, cumplay, dirty talk, praise, degradation, choking, spit kink, overstimulation, dom Spencer vibes 

word count: 3911

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

You had been Spencer’s roommate for almost a year now, and for all of that time, you’d been hopelessly in love with him.

You often think that if his work didn’t take him out of state so often, you’d probably come clean about your feelings much sooner.

It was Friday night, and Spencer still hadn’t come home yet, from California you think you remember him texting you a few days ago? So here you were, in the kitchen, trying to open a bottle of wine. 

“You really shouldn’t mix wine and beer”, your friend’s voice boomed from your phone.

“Well, what do you want me to do, Eleanor? Just stop drinking after 2 beers?” you mocked, struggling with the cork. “This is not a 2 beers kind of day, so yeah, I’m switching to wine since it’s the only option that I have here. It’s that or stop, which is just, no.”

Even through the screen, Eleanor gave you her best disappointed parent expression and it stung. How had she perfected that? Shaking her head, she sighed, “you really need to move out.”

Popping the wine bottle open, you pointed the corkscrew at her, “don’t,” you warned, “I don’t wanna hear about it!”

“You can’t keep living with someone that you are head over heals for! Either tell him or move out and move on.”

“Or I could just keep drinking alone on a Friday night, and then go snooping through his things.” You raised the bottle up to cheers the screen, then took a large swig of it.

“What, your gonna become an alcoholic?”

“Hey, don’t judge my coping mechanisms little miss ‘I spent 3 months' wages in 1 minute after getting dumped by Sandra’. And who was so kind as to support you and lend you some money in order to get by, oh yeah that’s right, me, your oldest friend.”

She took a deep sigh, “fine. What are we drinking?”, then you saw her pick up her phone and move to her kitchen. 

“Yes!” you squealed, “I promise, I won’t even mention him the entire evening.”

“It's just like, when he talks with his hands, which is always, which is also always because he always rambles, they are just so, urgghhh” you slurred, and bent over the kitchen counter in order to get closer to the screen, because your vision wasn’t the best at the moment. “pretty. But also like, I want to feel them everywhere on, and inside me. And the veins, oh fuck…”

Eleanor was totally spacing out on her end of the line, so you just continued. “like the other day, he got home and was soooo mad, like only once in a blue moon mad. And I know that it’s kinda wrong of me to just be lusting after him in such a tough moment for him, but damn!”, taking another gulp of your now much lighter bottle. “He just looked, god, so good.” You almost moaned. “His delicious forehead vein was popping out, fuck I just wanna lick it. Like, he gets so petty, but in the hottest way! Fucking, just bend me over right then and there, and go at it for hours!” you carelessly set the bottle down on the counter, “I’d let him do anything he’d want! and I’m talking like some Erika Lust shit. Choke me, slap me, say open up and I’ll happily let him spit in my mouth”

“God, you need to get laid,” Eleanor complained. 

“I know, but I only want him. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to even think about anyone else in that way,” you admitted. 

“Aw, babes, you will”, she said with a sad smile, then looked up to the side “oh, it’s 1:05, I’m sorry, I really need to go to bed, but we’ll talk more tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sleep well” you sighed.

“And hey, don’t go fall asleep in his bed!” she quickly added before ending the call.

“That was one time!” you said to now no one.

Feeling slightly dizzy from the alcohol in your system, you leaned your head against the cool countertop. 

Hearing the sink turn on behind you, you whipped around, startled to find the aforementioned Spencer standing there, filling the kettle with water. 

“Jesus Christ! Spencer, what are you doing here?” you screeched. 

Breathing out a small chuckle, “as far as I’m aware, Y/n, I live here.”

“Yeah, I know that, I mean what are you doing home?”

Setting down the now filled kettle in its holder to boil, he turned to you, “the case ended, ergo I’m home now. That’s how it works, Y/n.” 

He kept on saying your name, making you shutter at the way it sounded. “You just usually give a heads-up first”.

He sighed, clearly not in the mood for this conversation, “yeah, well I didn’t.” 

Maybe it had been a tough case? God, if he kept up this mood for any longer, your ovaries were going to explode. 

Suddenly remembering the topic of the convocation you just had with Eleanor, your eyes widened, “ho-how long have you been home?”

“Why?” he said with a tiny smirk.

“Oh, no, I just, I didn’t hear the door or anything” you trailed off.

“Well, you were pretty loud, so it makes sense.”

“I-“ fuck, your heartbeat was raising, “um, did you hear?”

Narrowing his eyes, looking you up and down, taking in your nervousness, “would you really let me do anything I’d want?” 

You let out a shaky breath.

“Because, Y/n,” he moved closer to you, ”there are so many things I wanna do to you.”

Not truly believing his words, you asked, “you do?”

Choosing not to answer with words, he grabbed your face and kissed you fiercely, letting his tongue dance across yours. Humming into it, the combo of the feeling of the kiss mixed with the alcohol made the world spin, so you clutched onto his forearms for support. 

Abruptly pulling away, he studied your eyes, “you’re drunk.”

“Guilty as charged!” you beamed, moving your hands down his body.

Catching them before they could touch what they desired, “no.”

“What? If you don’t want to, then why did you just kiss me?” the words rushed out of you.

Chuckling lightly, he held your hands in his, “trust me, I do.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I really like you. I’ve known it for a while.”

“You do?” you smiled as you moved to kiss him again, but he turned his head before your lips could meet.

“But your drunk.”

“So what?”

“Y/n, I can’t with good conscience just bend you over and fuck you in the kitchen when you are drunk.”

Letting go of him, you leaned back against the cold slab and spread your legs a bit, “you could though, I want you to”, grabbing ahold of his hand, you moved it between your legs, “I’m yours if you want me.”

Growling, he closed his eyes. 

“Please” you whispered, grinding into his hand, trying to find some form of relief. 

Snapping his eyes open, his hand started to move, just a bit, moving up and down over your covered pussy. “Is this what you want?”

Shuttering, you replied, “yes.”

With a smirk, his hand moved inside of your pants, cursing under his breath when he felt just how wet you were, “is this all for me?”

Lips now slightly parted, you nodded hard.

Using two fingers, he pressed hard down on your clit, drawing tight circles. Bending down to kiss along your jaw and down your neck he asked amidst the kisses, “do you really want me to choke you,-“ kiss, “slap you-“ kiss, “and spit in your pretty little mouth?”

All you could do was hum in affirmation. 

“I had no idea that you were such a dirty little whore.”

“I just- really really like you,” you choked out, hips moving of their own accord, trying to aid in the goal.

Coming up to look at your face, “good, because I really really like you too”.

A combination of his sweet words, how good he was a finding the exact right place and pressure on you, as well as just the anticipation of it all making everything heightened and so much more intense, you felt yourself getting dangerously close to cuming.

“Oh fuck, Spencer, I’m-” you moaned, clutching onto his shirt.

But then, he removed his hand.

“No, no, no, no, no-“ you breathed, trying to catch it and guide it back to your center, but he wouldn’t let you. “I was so close.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you stop?”

“Because like I said, I’m not going to fuck you when you’re drunk.” His sentence was emphasized by the click of the kettle being done boiling.

“But-“ you tried to argue, but he cut you off.

“I want the first time you cum with me to be on my cock. I wanna feel it.” He explained, then turned to grab two mugs out of a cupboard.

Standing there, slightly stunned, you tried to decipher what the next move could be. The alcohol made it virtually impossible to think of anything other than getting railed by him, so you just sat up on the counter, catching your breath and watching him brew the coffee.

After a minute, you asked quietly, “so, we just go to sleep now?”

Filling the last mug, “no”, he turned and lifted you off from where you were sitting and back to a standing position, “we are going to wait.”

“Wait?” you questioned.

Grabbing one of the mugs, he handed it to you and confirmed, “yeah. How many drinks did you have?”

Scrunching your face up, you tried to remember, “um, 3, no 4, maybe?”

Licking his lips he said, “okay. Come with me.”

Hopping after his long strides, he stopped at his chess table and sat down, motioning with his hand for you to follow suit.

“We are going to sit here until you sober up.”

“Playing chess? Of course, that would be your definition of foreplay.” You teased, but ungracefully sat down as well.

Moving your rook forward four spaces, you asked, “is this even entertaining for you? You keep on beating me in like 5 moves.” 

One step ahead of you, he quickly moved his bishop and snatched up your last surviving knight. Then turning his big brown eyes to look at you, “oh trust me, this is very entertaining for me. Might be some of the best games I’ve ever played.”

Cocking your head to the side you almost laughed, “um, no. I know I’m not a very good chess player, I know the rules and there forth can somewhat follow along, but I am nowhere near skilled enough to be an entertaining chess partner to you, dr. Reid.”

“Who said that your chess skills had anything to do with it?”

Giggling lightly, you moved a pawn and muttered, “oh.”

It was his turn again, but this time he didn’t move a piece, but simply asked you, “are you still drunk?”

Your body tensed at what the question really meant. 

“I don’t think so,” you said honestly, then deciding to joke a bit, “why, do you want me to walk in a straight line? Touch my finger to my nose?” already doing the last movement in front of him.

Smiling, he asked, “do you still want to?”

Stopping your movements, you replied completely serious, “I don’t know how that’s even a question.”

He raised his eyebrows at you, waiting for the right words.

“Yes Spencer, I still want to.” Rubbing your thighs together at the building sensation that never quite disappeared from earlier. 

His eyes were glued on you as you lowered your body to the floor, kneeling in front of him, slowly running your hands up his legs.

Reaching a hand down to your cheek, he slipped his thump inside your mouth, completely entranced, it came out as almost a whisper “show me.”

The way he looked down at you made your pussy throb. Hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around his finger, you watched him work at his belt.

“Be a good girl and show me.” Taking his finger back with a pop, then used both of his hands to free his cock.

The sight made you smile. Of course, even his dick was pretty.

“Open your mouth, Y/n,” and without another thought, you opened up and stuck your tongue out. Your eyes were big and doe-like, in awe of how he looked, sitting in front of you, working himself a couple of times.

Tapping the weight against your wet tongue, he groaned, “lick it”, and so you did, slowly a few times, just on the tip, then moving your head slightly to the side so you could trace his veins all the way down to the bottom, all the while keeping your eyes locked on his.

Moving your hand up to grasp the base, stroking it lightly as you came back to the tip, swirling your tongue around it a few times before pushing it past your lips. Slowly taking him further and further in, his hands were tangled in your hair, pulling at the roots whenever you would move your tongue just right. 

Letting him move your head for you, picking the pace, how far down you would go down and how long he would hold you there, enjoying the sound of you gagging. 

After a bit, moaning, he pulled you off his now glistening cock, “I’m not gonna last if you keep that up”.

Proud of yourself, you beamed up at him, whipping your mouth and chin with the back of your hand.

Pulling you up to him, he kissed you. Moaning into it, his hands went straight to your tits, palming them softly and then whispered against your lips, “take it off, slowly”.

Pushing yourself off him, you backed up a few steps, giving him a good view. Gradually, layer by layer you striped for him, turning when you got to your pants, in order to give him the best angle. Unconsciously, he mirrored your actions, taking his own off.

When you were both completely naked, his dark eyes drank you in, “get on the couch, ass up, now.”

Your body did as he wished by its own accord. Leaning over the back of his brown leather couch, you waited eagerly for him to get closer to you, and when he did, you grinded into the feeling of his body pressed up against yours. 

Running his fingers lightly through your folds, “mhm, you’re fucking soaked.”

“Please don’t tease me anymore,” you wiggled against him, “I want you inside of me, now.”

“Oh really?” he cooed, then landed a small slap on your pussy, surprising and hard enough to make you jump a bit, “you want it that bad? Do you just wanna be my pretty little whore?”

“Please, ruin me” you whined, as you felt the head of his cock brush against your entrance.

“Wait,” he said, panic suddenly filling his voice, “I don’t have a condom.”

As he began to pull away, you wouldn’t let him, “I don’t care, please just give it to me, please Spencer.”

“You serious?”

“I’m clean, please do it. I’ll just get plan b tomorrow”, you begged.

And without any more warning, he slammed the entirety of his dick inside of you, making you lose your breath and almost turn into putty in his arms.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned into your ear, then distanced himself from you by pushing you further into the couch and straightening up himself. Gripping onto your hips, he didn’t give you a moment to get use to the feeling of how much he stretched you out, but opting for a brutal pace. The snapping of his hips made your body jump in the best way. 

As he slapped your ass, you only got that much closer to cuming. His arms went around your waist and pulled you up against him. One firmly staying there, holding you close to his warm body, the other snaked its way up your body, staying at your boobs just long enough to pinch one nipple, then finding a home softly wrapped around your neck.

His face was right beside yours, occasionally placing a sloppy kiss on your cheek, neck or shoulder. Feeling you clench around him, he asked amidst his grunts and moans, “you gonna be a good girl and cum for me, Y/n?”

When you didn’t reply, too wrapped up in the feeling of it all, he taped your cheek lightly, “huh? Are you gonna cum on my dick?” 

Seeing stars now, you had no way of getting out actual words, and when his hand came down on your cheek again, this time a little harder, you gathered just enough strength to nod lightly.

“atta girl, let me feel you,” he cooed in your ear and returned his hand to his resting place around your neck. Your eyes struggled to stay open as the orgasm rocked through you. 

Legs shaking and trying to catch your breath, his trusts slowed down. Your head lolled back against his shoulder, and he kissed your cheek. “fuck, just when I thought you couldn’t get more beautiful.”

Smiling you reached your hand up to the side of his face, “let’s move this to your bed, I think I need to lay down”, you breathed out.

“Done already?” he asked in a joking tone.

Laughing lightly, you winched at the feeling it gave, making your sensitive walls clench around him, “no, I just don’t wanna fall.”

And with another peck on your cheek, he pulled out of you, but still held you close as you moved the short distance to his bed.

When you hit the mattress, you pulled him with you, letting him fall on top of you. Gasping as he slipped inside of you again, the feeling already starting to feel like home. 

“Oh, you’re taking my cock so well” he moaned, finding a good rhythm, picking the one that made your boobs jiggle the most. “God, I love your tits,” he thought out loud, playing with them, making you giggle a bit at the compliment. 

Craving the same sensation from before, you requested, “choke me.” He didn’t hesitate, wrapping his long fingers around your throat again, squeezing lightly at the points where your rapid heartbeat was easiest to feel. 

Your eyes were locked on each other’s, giving you a great chance to study just how blown his pupils were. Moving his big hand up, so that his thumb could rest on your bottom lip, “open” he breathed out. When you did as you were told, sticking your tongue out just enough for it to brush against his finger, his lips curled up into a proud smirk. The sensation of his spit landing on your tongue first surprised you, then did something you were not expecting it to do. You came again. Right then and there, the intimacy of the act being enough for you.

His smile only grew at the obvious signs of the power he had over you.

Then you blinked and he wasn’t above you anymore. But what he did next was enough for you to know exactly where he was. Your head shot down with a wince, to see him place sloppy kisses on your very sensitive clit. Reaching a hand down, you pulled him away, the sensation being too much. 

Head between your legs, he looked up at you, eyes sparkling, kissing your inner thigh, and muttering, “sorry, I just had to kiss you there”.

Placing your hand on his cheek, you stroked your thump up and down, then up to trace the angry vein on the side of his forehead, “just give me a second”.

Smiling, he leaned his head against your soft thigh, then turned his face to place a peck on the palm of your hand.

“mhm, okay”, you hummed after a few minutes. Spencer then sat up, pulling your tired body with him. You slumped down in his lap, like a koala, hugging your arms around him, nuzzling as close as you could. 

“You ready, Y/n?”

You hummed in reply, reaching one of your hands down to slip his dick inside of you again.

This time, you both just found a lazy and intimate rocking motion, not needing it to be hard and fast, but slow in order to make it last as long as possible. 

“fuck, I’m so close” he practically whined, “where so you want it?”

Through a string of breathy moans, you uttered one syllable, “-in- “, pulling back just enough for him to see the seriousness on your face.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he smirked, “We already live together, you want us to start a family?” his teasing only made your walls tighten their grip around him.

His movements became more ragged and desperate, “you’re just a little cumslut, aren’t you? You want me to fill you up?” whimpering in response, you buried your face in the crook of his neck and held on tight as he pushed you over another euphoric high. 

Grunting in your ear at the feeling of you milking him, you heard, “take it, all of it”, as he throbbed deep inside of you, filling you with his cum.

Staying like that, all tangled up and breathing heavy, for who knows how long. At some point, clutching onto you, he lowered you both down to lie on the soft mattress. 

Expecting him to stay and cuddle you, he instead sat back up and leaned back to admire the mess he had made. Stroking your thigh, he breathed out, “be a good girl and spread your legs for me.”

Slowly, you pushed your knees up and spread your legs apart, hearing him curse underneath his breath. Your body jumped when you felt his fingers trace your slit, gathering up the cum that had begun to drip out of you. Crying out suddenly as he plunged in two of his fingers, hips buckling, the sensation being too much for your overstimulated cunt.

“Uh, don’t get so whiny on me right now,” he cooed, looking down at you with dark eyes. He hooked his fingers and moved them furiously, “you said you wanted to cum? Now take it!”

Even when your hips tried to move away, his fingers followed. Soon the feeling of everything being too much got another thing added onto it. How could you possibly cum again? But somehow, you did just that. Spencer always had a way of making impossible things be possible.

Your whole body was shaking and quivering as Spencer laid down next to you and wrapped his arms around you. “Holy shit,” you said among your shaky breaths.

“Well, we did have 341 days of foreplay”, he joked.

“Yeah”, you laughed, brushing your hand up and down his arm. “Hey, Spence?”

“Mhm?” he hummed into your hair.

Taking a deep breath, gathering the courage, you confessed quietly, “I love you.”

His hand came to lift your face up to meet his, touching his forehead against yours, “Y/n, I love you too, so much.”

Tilting your head up a bit, you kissed his forehead, then curled back down under his chin and fell asleep in that warm cocoon of love that was your roommate Spencer Reid.

© 2022 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[akatsukinolola]

𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧┊ 𝗔. 𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡

ఌ︎. p. hockey player!abby anderson x f!reader // g. smut

ఌ︎. cw. SMUT [18+ MDNI— top!reader + bottom!Abby (dom/sub undertones), kissing, oral (a receiving), tribbing, multiple orgasms, spitting, hair pulling, fingering (a receiving), crying, overstimulation, reader talking abby through it] bisexual!abby, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, confessions, owen is mentioned like twice (i’m sorry, but i had to drag him a little bit), mentions of alcohol, a sex fantasy daydream, mentions of masturbation, houseparty, lame text message thread, not beta’d n barely proof read— let me know if i missed anything!

ఌ︎. wc. 4.7k

summary: you got it bad for abby

𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

ఌ︎. a/n: ahhhh, i’m so excited! this is one of the bigger pieces i’ve been working on. as always, constructive criticism is welcomed and appreciated! enjoy <3!

The smell of cellulose and stale coffee filled the campus library air.

While looking for a specific book on behavioral neuroscience, you decided to pick up one of your old favorites, Lord of the Flies. The stress of coursework and keeping up with sorority activities took its toll on you, so being able to curl up with a good book at the end of the day is a welcomed prize.

Just as your fingertips grazed the spine of the book, it was snatched away. Turning, you come face to face with the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen. Her dark blonde hair was pulled back in a braid that gave you a full view of her freckle filled face and strong nose. Looking further down, you caught sight of her broad shoulders and muscular arms. Her toned torso that led to her strong thighs. You looked back up at her blue eyes, to avoid being called out for gawking at her.

“I know you saw me reaching for that book,” you crossed your arms and cocked an eyebrow at the blonde.

“And I grabbed it first so, I guess you’ll just have to wait until I finish it,” a cocky smirk playing on her pink lips.

Not even in the mood to beg for the book, you scoffed and moved to walk past her. “Un-fuckin’-belivable,” you muttered under your breath. She stepped in your way, blocking you from moving any further.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget I can’t be a sarcastic asshole to strangers.” she rubs the back of her neck with her free hand, her muscles bulging in her fitted t-shirt. “I have a five hour bus ride in the morning and I need one of the best books ever written to get me through it,” she explains. “However, if I promise to get it back to you when I get back, can we call a truce?”

You narrowed your eyes at her, searching for a reason to curse her out. But her stupid face and her stupid muscles and her stupid voice softened you up. You pulled out your phone and opened a new contact for her to fill out. Handing her the phone, Abby took the phone and added her contact, making sure to text herself so she can save your number as well. You put your contact in her phone as well. Tapping her shoulder with the back of your phone, you look up at her through your lashes, “I’ll be expecting that text, Anderson.”

+  +  +

It’s been a little over three months since you met Abigail Anderson who you’ve dutifully nicknamed Bibi. Exactly three days after your encounter in the library, she texted you asking to meet at the library so you could exchange the book. When you met up she had the book ready for you to check out as well as a proposition for lunch.

From there your friendship blossomed.

Outside of Abby’s practices and your community service you two spent nearly every moment together. Meeting up at the library or a local café to talk about any and everything.

The more you hung out with the blonde the more your infatuation grew. The post workout facetime calls when she’s shining with sweat and her muscles are plump. The way she gave you her undivided attention when you were together.

And if you’re being honest, there have been several occasions where you found yourself moaning her name as creamed all over your rabbit vibrator. Imagining what it would be like to feel the weight of her on top of you, feeding your pussy every inch of the silicone strap she chose for you. How it would feel to have her lips on yours leaving them swollen and dragging them down the column of your neck as she sucked bruises on your skin. Oh, how you’ve imagined her head between your legs, fingers pounding in and out of you, every thrust brushing against the spongy area deep within you. Her lips and tongue showing special attention to your clit as she brings you closer and closer—

“Hello?” Abby droned, waving her hand in front of your face to get your attention. The two of you had just finished an early lunch before her practice. You seemed to have slipped into a rather explicit daydream while waiting for her to return from the bathroom.

“Hi,” you gave her a sweet smile and playfully batted your eyelashes. Abby chuckled, shaking her head at your antics.

“C’mon, so I can drop you off,” she held her hand out for you to take. You slung your purse over your shoulder and took her hand as you stood from the table. You expected her to let go after you were up, but she held on as the two of you exited the building. As the two of you made the ten minute drive back to your house, you remembered something you intended to tell her at lunch.

“Oh yea, last night, my roommates decided to throw a party Friday night. I know you have a game, but I wanted to tell you anyway.”

“If I’m up for it, I’ll definitely be there,” she said as she pulled into your driveway.

“And if you’re not, maybe I can crash at your place?” you asked, leaning on the middle console with your head in your hands.

Abby leaned back in her seat, legs spreading slightly as her hands rubbed over her thighs. “Yea, of course you can,” ‘You never have to ask.’ she thought to herself as she looked you over.

You leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and got out of the car. Ducking into the window you say your goodbyes telling her to text you later. As you walked to the front door, Abby watched your ass sway in your jeans that hugged your body so well. She ran a hand down her face, blowing out a puff of air, as that familiar throb between her legs intensified as you waved your fingers at her again before disappearing into the house. She felt like such a fucking loser. Ready to rub one out right there in the car from watching your ass as you walked away from her.

+  +  +

The last couple days have been pretty hectic. Your physics professor sprung a last minute quiz on the class. You had no time to mentally prepare for it and had you not done the reading earlier than you were supposed to, you’re sure you would’ve bombed it. On top of that, there have been several fights at the soup kitchen you volunteer at— someone almost getting stabbed with a dirty needle had it not been for the hired security. You were mentally, emotionally, and physically drained. All of the excitement you had for the weekend was completely swept away. All you wanted to do was hide away in your room so you could recharge enough to take on the next week.

But considering there was going to be a party hosted in your home tonight, you could only hope you would get a text from Abby saying how she was exhausted so you could go to her place. Your roommates were running around setting up for the party. Mila was rearranging the furniture, Bri was hiding all of your valuable and breakable items in the spare room and Cori was with you in the kitchen setting up the kitchen with snacks and drinks as you mixed together hunch punch in a ten gallon cooler that was gonna sit on the kitchen island.

You were pouring all of the juices and fresh fruit into the container before you opened three bottles of tequila to pour over in there. “Oh Lord, this bitch finna have us all in this bitch crip walking and hitting flips,” Mila said as you emptied the bottles.

“Girl, this is like 10% alcohol. It literally tastes like juice,” you playfully rolled your eyes.

“That’s what alcoholics say!” Bri shouted from the living room.

“Yeah okay, whatever,” you laughed.

It was after seven o’clock meaning that any moment now people would be pulling up. Just as you twisted and duct taped the lid onto the container, the first wave of people began to fill the open space in your home.

Time passed as you mingled and kept your eyes peeled, watching for any weird behavior. Whenever a party was hosted at your home, you and your roommates felt responsible for everyone’s well being so y’all weren’t afraid to beat somebody’s ass because they wanna start drama or can’t take the word “no”. 

Your phone vibrated in your back pocket. Checking the time, it was a little after ten o’clock and you saw a notification from Abby.

+  +  +

“Bibi, you’re not serious…” you asked in disbelief.

Abby had arrived at the party quicker than either of you anticipated. Already a couple drinks in, the two of you were in the kitchen sipping on the punch you made earlier.

Abby’s cheeks burned and she felt slightly embarrassed at her admission. Rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand, she nodded. “As embarrassing as it is to admit, I’m very serious.”

You threw your drink in the trash. Your hands rested on your hips as your tipsy mind tried to comprehend the situation. “So you’ve never had an orgasm?” you whisper yelled at her under the loud music. “It’s one thing to not cum while having sex, but you’ve never even made yourself finish?”

“Whenever I tried, I’d get overwhelmed and just stop. And my ex,” she rolled her eyes, “He didn’t give a fuck— don’t even think he actually tried.”

You nodded your head, taking in this new information about your friend. You felt bad. Everyone deserves to have at least one mind blowing, toe curling, back arching orgasm in their life and this poor woman has never had one. Grabbing the blonde by her arm, you jut your chin toward the back stairs and pull her in the same direction. The back stairs led up to the second floor, where your room was. A street sign in your favorite color with your first name in bold lettering hung on the door. Abby smiled as she read the sign Reaching into your bra, you pulled out a key and unlocked the door. 

You opened the door to your bedroom and invited her in, locking the door behind you and placing the key in the small bowl that held your car keys. The music playing from your sound bar drowned out the sounds of the party below. You dimmed the lights just enough to set the mood. Abby stood next to your bed awkwardly, fidgeting with her hands as she gazed around your room. The various plants you meticulously placed along with the cozy window seat make the space inviting. In her admiration, she turned her back to you. You eased up behind her, gently placing your hands on her waist. She leaned into your embrace and you began to sway her to the music. The previous song transitioned into Tinashe’s Spacetime.

Abby turned around in your hold and your hands slid underneath her fitted t-shirt. Your cool finger tips sent a welcomed shiver up her spine.

“Bibi, I’m gonna use your misery as an opportunity to tell you something really really important.” you looked her in the eye. Abby nodded, a silent encouragement for you to go ahead. Your cheeks puffed as you blew out a breath, “I’ve liked you since you stole Lord of the Flies from me. And when you told me you were bi, you made my little gay heart palpitate so bad I thought I was gonna pass out. And now that you’ve told me, you’ve never had an orgasm, I just wanna treat you so fucking well. Like, take you on dates and hold your hand and get matching nail art and go to your hockey games wearing a jersey with your last name on it,” you rested your forehead on her chest, digging your fingers into her back. The liquor may have given you the courage to admit your feelings, but it didn’t stop you from overthinking your alcohol fueled actions.

Abby’s warm hands cupped your face, angling it toward her own. Her thumbs swept back and forth on your cheeks as she looked into your eyes. She thought she would find eyes full of tears on the brink of spilling, but instead she found eyes full of something sincere, something that could be described as love if she read into it any further. Flicking her eyes down to your lips, Abby saw you anxiously gnawing on your bottom lip. She used one of her thumbs to pull your lip free and leaned in. Your noses touched, lips just millimeters away from each other. Your heart thumped against your ribcage as if it were trying to escape.

“Abigail, if you’re going to kiss me do it before my heart gives out,” you teased, unable to bear her silence. Without any hesitation, Abby pressed her lips to yours. One of her hands pulled you closer by the nape of your neck while the other slid into the back pocket of your jeans and gripped at your ass. You both moaned into the kiss, only pulling away when your lungs were in desperate need of air. Abby rested her forehead against yours, catching her breath. Her blue eyes opened, revealing blown pupils. Standing up straight, Abby’s strong arms wound around your waist and pulled you as close as possible.

“I want to take you on dates too, and hold your hand, and get matching nail art,” she laughed knowing she never gets anything more than a clear topcoat, “and I wanna give you my jersey to wear to my home games so when I look into the stands, I see the prettiest girl who I get to call mine.”

“Yours?”

“Mine,” she said with no room for argument. “My pretty girl.”

You damn near tackled Abby onto your bed. She kicked off her shoes as you tugged at her belt. Shimmying out of her pants, she lifted up and you helped her out of her shirt. When her back touched the plush comforter, you planted one of your hands beside her head while the other traced patterns on her neck and chest. “We don’t have to have sex, we can do whatever you want. I don’t want you to feel like I ambushed you with my feelings just to sleep with you,” you confessed.

Abby pulled you into a kiss, “I’m done waiting. I’ve been waiting since you gave me the death stare after I stole that book,” she looked up at you smugly. You nodded, pulling your lip between your teeth. ‘She wanna play games’ you thought to yourself. Standing up, you toed off your shoes. A cute pout played on the blonde’s face as you pulled your shirt over your head. Finally, shimmying out of your jeans you straddled the half-naked woman who looked real good splayed out on your bed. Abby immediately began to paw at you, touching every inch of skin she could reach. Her hands were perfect. The smoothness of her fingertips contrasting with the calluses on her palms from weight lifting and her time holding a stick.

All of your want for the woman was expressed through your shared kisses and touches. Your lips traveled from hers to across her jaw. You kissed down her neck, desperately searching for the spot that made her weak. She gasped as her back arched when you sucked on the junction between the column of her throat and collar bone. You bit down on the area, soothing the sting with your tongue, and continued to suck until a bright red mark that was sure to bruise later formed.

You kissed down to her chest, placing a kiss in between the valley of her breasts. You cupped them in your hands massaging them through her bra. “Is this okay?” you asked, looking up at her through your lashes. She nodded, making you shake your head. “I need to hear you say it,” you continued to tease her through the thin sports bra.

“Mhm, s’okay. It feels really good,” her voice was breathy.

Abby can’t recall a time she’s ever felt like this. Her cheeks, which she was sure had a pink tint to them, burned under your gaze. Every touch had her clenching around nothing and her clit throbbed, begging for any friction you were willing to grant her. When you asked if you could take off her bra, she hesitated. Having a naturally smaller chest as well as a muscular upper body made her feel somewhat inferior to women who were walking around with C and D-Cups— hell, even B Cups. When you tossed her bra to the floor, her hands were already covering her chest. She looked anywhere but at you.

“Abs, look at me,” you said. Hesitantly, she listened. Taking a hold of her hands you kissed the insides of both wrists, your eyes never leaving hers. You positioned her hands above her head, a silent instruction to keep them there. Reaching behind your back, you unclipped your bra, freeing your breasts from the underwired confines. “I’ll always wanna see this pretty body,” you kissed down the valley of her breasts. “You worked too hard, to hide it from me,” you licked over her left nipple, suckling until it pebbled against your tongue. Abby arched into your mouth, more of her breast pressing against your face. You showed the other the same love before pulling away. Her once pink nipples slightly darkened, courtesy of your mouth. Her abs flexed as you kissed down her stomach. When you began to suck bruises on her hip line, she tried to squeeze her legs together but your body prevented her from attaining any friction. A needy whine left her lips at you denying her pleasure.

Looking up at her you feigned a pout. “What’s the matter babe?” you teased. Your lips found the inside of her thighs as you laid your front flush to the bed. Abby grew needier as she sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth. Unhappy with her hiding anything from you, you bit her hard, teeth marks etched into her soft skin. Abby gasped at the pleasurable pain and the moan that your actions evoked had you rubbing your own thighs together. “There you go,” you cooed as you ran your tongue over the teeth marks left in her flesh, “You sound so fuckin’ pretty baby,” you placed a kiss on her clothed clit. Abby’s hips bucked against your face as her back went rigid. You saw her knuckles turning white from how tightly she was gripping your comforter.  “Don’t tell me that loser bitch never went down on this pretty pussy.”

Embarrassed that you had read the situation so well, she looked away. Raising up from your position, you came face to face with the blonde, lying under you. Grabbing a fistful of her boxers, you pulled them up until the crotch was stretching over her slit. The cotton rubbed against her aching clit and Abby's chest heaved as she tried not to scream. You took her jaw in to your hand and made her face you, “Baby, I’m tryna be nice but if I have to tell you to stop looking away from me again, I’m gonna fuck you until you cry,” you gripped her jaw just enough to convey the seriousness of your words.

“M’sorry,” she blinked up at you in a daze. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you kissed her lips and let go of her boxers, “Just trust me when I say I’ll take care of you, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” Abby nodded. and reached up she reached up to kiss you again. Your hand slipped past the cotton concealing her most intimate area. The slick that coated your fingers had you both moaning into the kiss. Abby’s hips bucked against your hand, chasing the pleasure she’d been craving. Removing your hand, Abby whined at the loss of contact. You sucked her essence off your fingers and swear you could’ve cum just from the little taste you got.

“Can I take these off?” you asked. Abby lifted her hips giving you silent permission. You looked over the blonde’s completely naked body and wanted nothing more than to worship her perfect body. With a chaste kiss, you laid back down, now face to face with her bare cunt. Sparse dark blonde hairs trailed from her navel to the hood of her clit. The landing strip was a nice touch.

Wasting no time, you licked a stripe up her slit. You both moaned— you at the sweet slick coating your tongue and her because your tongue was unlike anything she’d ever felt down there. Abby’s legs squeezed around your head and you didn’t bother fighting it, knowing that you would happily suffocate between her legs. You wrapped your hands under her thighs, to bring yourself impossibly closer to her pussy. A smile played on your lips as you flicked the tip of your tongue over her clit.

Abby was trembling. Your tongue expertly licked through her folds, gathering every drop of slick that dripped from her sopping hole. She didn’t know what to do. When you pinched her thigh, she loosened her legs. You spread her wet lips apart and spit on her clit. Diving back in you suck her engorged clit into your mouth. A wanton moan left Abby as she thrashed against your hold. One of her hands found your hair. Her fingertips found the roots of your hair and tugged. The sting in your scalp had you moaning and grinding your hips into the mattress. 

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Abby cried out as you roughly sucked in her clit. Dropping your head a little lower, you plunged your tongue into her drooling hole. You groaned into the sticky flesh as you lapped up every drop of her essence. Her wetness coated your lips and chin and leaked onto the sheets. Releasing one of her thighs, you eased two fingers inside her.

“You taste so good, baby. Could keep my face buried in this pussy forever,” you pet her clit with your tongue. You worked your fingers in and out of her opening trying different angles. A particular one had Abby clenching around your fingers and tightening her fingers in your hair. “Right there?” you asked. She nodded her head fervently. Taking her clit in between your teeth, adding just enough pressure to make it pleasurable, her legs shook.

“Yes, please! Right there— fuck, right there!” Abby cried as you continued to pleasure her. 

That familiar feeling began to wind inside Abby’s abdomen. That overwhelming feeling that had her running away from her own pleasure. She began to shuffle up the bed. Having none of it, you sat up and placed your body weight on top of her. You never stopped your ministrations as you came face to face with the woman once again. Abby looked up at you with her pretty blue eyes that have now glossed over with tears.

“Why’re you cryin’ mama?” you kissed her, the remainder of her juices still coating your lips. “Hm?”

“S’too much,” she tried to wiggle away from your hand.

“Uhn uhn,” you shook your head. You put your thumb on her clit, circling it as you continued to bury your fingers inside her. “Roll your hips up toward my hand,” you instructed. Nodding, Abby followed your instructions. With every roll of her hips the fire behind her navel began to grow. The lines between pleasure and discomfort were beyond blurred. “There you go. Chase it, baby.”

Abby’s eyes fluttered shut as she moved faster. You felt her walls begin to spasm around your fingers. “Look at me when I make you cum,” you ordered. Abby opened her eyes to meet yours. Your pupils were blown and glazed over with unadulterated lust. You looked at her with so much care, she could’ve sobbed then and there. Never has she ever been put first when I came to sex. But with you? She felt like she could get lost in your touch and showers of affection forever. Your words helped work her up.

“You can take it,”

“Just like that, babe,”

“I gotchu, ’m right here,”

It snuck up on her, taking you both by surprise. Abby’s eye rolled back as her orgasm washed over her. Her hips bucked wildly as wallowed in her bliss. You leaned in for a kiss as you continued to fuck her through her orgasm. Post orgasm Abby was a sight to see. Cheeks flushed, strands of dark blonde hair sticking to her dewy skin, chest heaving up and down, and her bottom lip wobbling. You placed a few more chaste kisses to her lips as you withdrew your fingers from her sensitive cunt. Not being able to stop yourself, you licked up the remainder of her essence from your fingers.

“You okay?” you kissed her forehead.

“Better than okay,” she nodded, that amazing smile coming into view. Abby leaned up to kiss you again, pulling you flush to her body. She ran her hands down your body, grabbing at the fat of your ass. Your whimper into her mouth had her drawing away. “What about you? You okay?” her hand continued to rub your ass.

“I’m good, don’t worry about me,” you lied through your teeth. You’d been throbbing since your first kiss and the stickiness in your panties had become rather uncomfortable. Despite all that, Abby was the priority for tonight. If it came down to it, you’d rub one out in the bathroom after she fell asleep.

“Babe, don’t lie to me. Tell me what I can do for you,” she kissed your neck.

You pulled your underwear down and kicked them off onto the floor. “Spread your legs for me?” you asked. Abby did as instructed. You spread your lips apart, revealing your swollen clit. Dropping your hips, you pressed your clit to Abby’s. Both of your moans echoed throughout the space. You rocked your hips quickly, increasing the friction. The sounds of Abby’s moans and your mixing juices pushed you further and further to the edge. As the knot in your belly tightened, you pressed your chest to Abby’s and stuck your face in the crook of her neck, kissing where you could reach.

The feeling of your soaked cunt on hers had Abby fucking you back. Your hips rolled together in tandem. That familiar feeling had made itself known again, but this time Abby welcomed it with open arms.

“Oh my— fuck! You’re gonna make me cum again,” Abby gasped as her hips stuttered.

Retreating from her neck, you kissed Abby hard. “Cum with me baby,” you gasped, “Wanna cum all over this pretty pussy.”

A few more rolls of your hips had you both screaming as your clits caught one another, sending you over the edge into a sea of ecstasy. You both continued to grind, using each other to prolong your highs. You were trembling like a leaf above Abby as you rested your forehead against hers, panting as you both caught your breaths.

Abby’s hands smoothed over your sides. She tilted her head back to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. Your hands found the sides of her neck, thumbs swooping back and forth over her cheeks as you kissed her back. “I’ll be right back,” you got up from the bed and sauntered into your en suite. When reentered your bedroom, Abby was lying there, hand thrown over her eyes with a goofy smile playing on her lips. She didn’t notice your presence until the bed dipped under your weight. You gently spread Abby’s legs and cleaned her up with the warm washcloth. Discarding the rag somewhere on the floor amongst your clothes, the two of you snuggled together under the soft sheets. You hooked your leg over her hip and drew her as close as possible.

Abby watched you with sleepy eyes. She felt content. Here she was, cuddled up with a woman she had been yearning for.

ఌ︎. a/n #2: if y'all have any thots or questions about hockey player!abby hit my inbox!

[faithhopeloveandtherapy]

There was a big local event on today that foster carers were encouraged to go to with their children. I felt like there was no way I could go with both children, Mr 7 is all high speed and enthusiasm, and Miss 5 is all walk at toddler pace in her own direction. Neither child has any danger awareness or ability to reliably follow directions (stop, wait, let’s go over here etc). In the end Miss 5 is not very well so I left her at home with d3 (who I pay £££ to provide childcare) and just took Mr 7.

I thought, am I being a wimp or just over dramatic , not being up for taking both children?? Then I got to the event and saw other foster carers with multiple children, but the children were walking alongside adults, doing as they were asked, not screaming or head banging…. I had even forgotten that children could do this!! I am so used to hanging onto them at all times it’s become normal to me. I only coped with Mr 7 because a staff member helped me out and let me jump in the queue for food (Mr 7 does not want food and does not like queueing). He didn’t have any meltdowns but did get close at two points - one when he couldn’t find a bow and arrow stall (?!) and once when we couldn’t find anywhere giving out lollipops 🤷‍♀️. The rest of the time, I just followed his lead, so he spent about 40 minutes on the bouncy castle and 30 minutes playing his own made up version of 4 in a row (he won 11 games to 2 but the rules changed every game 😂 I just insisted I had won on two occasions so that he didn’t always get to win).

Later this afternoon, I got a text from the people who were going to do our holiday care for a week in the autumn. They came to meet the children a fortnight ago, and messaged today to say that they think that it will be too much to have the two of them for a week so they are pulling out. Gutted. And not gonna lie, a bit pissed off. Because I will have had them for 5 months by then and they can’t manage 1 week. It also reminds me that these two children do have a lot of needs. It’s just become so normalised to me that I don’t notice it so much anymore. Back to the drawing board for the holiday care hey ho.

Took Mr 7 swimming late afternoon and it was just what we both needed in this heat. He had a great time and we didn’t get home till 7pm, just in time to do Miss 5’s bedtime and then Mr 7 has an hour of quiet play in his room. I hope Miss 5 is on the mend now. She screams the place down and thrashes and spits when I try and get calpol into her (reference earlier posts about giving medication) and I am so over that six hourly battle!

[brinxxxx]

A Bang Chan FF (content warning 18+!!) (smut)

Whipped For You

Chapter 8: Thunderous

Chan POV:

Last night...was amazing. I wasn't expecting her to go through with it. But after the first time we relaxed into each other touch, enjoying the nice company until I felt my cum dripping down my leg. Until the opportunity to do something I've never done before but I knew she would LOVE.

I went down to her heat and licked her out. My cum and her juiced in my mouth i kissed her the moans she made made me rock hard again and we fucked for a second time. This time rougher than the last. Honestly it felt like I was in heaven.

I got ready to go to work. I checked my phone. No missed calls or messages. I change into my clothes and leave Y/N in peace. I left her a note I didn't want to leave without saying anything. It felt nice to finally have that time with her. That special moment. It was perfect. I wanted more. I wanted her.

I got to the office where the boys were sitting outside my office "what's up? You all look constipated?"

"Hyung you've not seen the articles have you?"

"What do you mean Changbin?"

He have me his phone. My "fiancé" posted another stupid article about me sleeping around. Not coming home when asked. Yet she can have a boyfriend and no one bats an eye. I get a text from Y/N.

"You told me she wouldn't care! You told me she wouldn't bat an eye. Wtf is this!?"

"Y/N calm down. I'll fix it"

"I knew we shouldn't have spent the night together. She's gonna kill me."

"She won't."

"I don't believe you."

"CHAN! Dude. Stop texting and listen. Where did you go last night if you didn't go home?"

"I was home"

"Chan you're in the same clothes as last night. You're bad at lying"

"Okay this doesn't go anywhere else but here okay...? Can we got one do your offices. I don't trust mine to be safe "

We go to Lee Knows office. They all sit down staring me. "Don't freak out. I was with Y/N last night."

"I KNEW IT!" Seungmin and Hyunjin cried.

"MY SISTER!?" Lee know pointed out. Not shocked but still grossed out.

"Lee know Hyung! WHAT!?"

"That's a story for another time. We can circle back. Chan are you serious did you..."

"Yes we had sex. Last night and this morning. Please keep this between us I don't want PDnim getting involved. See how she found out and is posting it everywhere however she doesn't say WHO I was with.  Still. Please. Can we find a way to shut these articles down? I need to call my father. I have little over 6 months to avoid marriage. I need your help to make it happen. Me and Y/N. Can you do that?"

"Hyung we aren't a match making service. What the fuck are we meant to do?"

"Report articles to stay this ain't true.

Do them to but if there's loads of us doing that it'll get the message across that she's spitting fake news. Though it's not but it's not the point. I want my relationship with Y/N to be private. Okay?"

"Yes Hyung" they shout. Ready to battle.

*a few hours later.*

Author POV:

After a few hours the guys as a collective managed to come up with articles that were good enough to divert the claims on Chan and aiming at his soon be to wife. Chan's father was livid at her. Not at him. He was very happy that he found someone after trying for so many years.

Which is weird since he was the one to make them get married in the first place. Anyways. Chan texts Y/N about the news.

*Chans text:*

Chan-ah: hey babygirl. It's okay we have worked things out. So no need to stress okay? I'm sorry for scaring you and upsetting you. Please don't hate me.

Babygirl:

Hey Daddy, it's okay im calmer now

*sends a naughty pic to Chan*

It's a shame Daddy has to work all day when im at home looking like this hmmm?

Chan-ah: ohhh Babygirl. You can't do that. You can't tease Daddy like that. Remember bad girls get punished.

He was enjoying how confident she was all of a sudden. He secretly wanted more but wouldn't be able to control his pants situation if it did continue. Chan was deep in though when his soon to be wife calls him...

"Take those articles down. Right now Chan!"

"You're the one who's been boasting about a fake relationship I seem to be having. Which by the way thanks for the heads up I didn't know I was in some sort of relationship with another woman! *he lies* seriously. You have a boyfriend. You have your person why are you making this difficult for me. You know if I don't find someone we still get married. We don't want that do we!?"

"No you don't want that but I still do!"

"What why!?"

"Why do you think Chan? Don't worry it's not out of love. Ewww. I don't love you like that."

"For the money?"

"Wow Daddy's boy is smart! Yes dumbass. I want the money. Then get an emolument and go out septet ways"

"You didn't read the contract huh? It says we cannot split up. No matter what. If we are married to to each other till death parts us."

"I don't want that."

"Me neither. So cut the crap and stop messing with my life. Please."

"Okay fine but if you piss me off I will come down on you like s tone of bricks. Got that?"

"Yes sure now please im working."

He hangs up. He looks at his phone 20 messages from Y/N. All photos and videos of her. Captions saying "Daddy's not here to play so I guess I have to myself."

"Daddy's not answering me"

So on and so forth. Chan runs to the toilet and watches the videos of you. Playing with yourself. Screaming his name. The moans. It was all so hot. Too hot infact. It was getting to lunch time and chan had the perfect plan.

He calmly walks out managing to hide his bulging erection. "Hey guys I'm gonna go home and get changed into more appropriate clothes. I'll see you after lunch?"

They nodd. They knew exactly where he was going. And it wasn't home.

[shinysoroka]

Insider baseball rant incoming...

I'm a broken record about AI being a destructive technology for the arts. But what infuriates amazes me is how many people become willing cheerleaders for the thing that is actively contributing to the degradation of their craft, just because it comes wrapped in an attractive, non-threatening package by glorified HR managers. So let's break down how this all got pitched in the translation industry, just so you can spot potential parallels when it inevitably spills over into other areas.

Say you are a professional translator. You have been making a modest living over the last decade by translating instruction manuals, technical brochures and other assorted nonsense companies put out every year into... let's say Sindarin. You've built knowledge, experience and speed, you've put in your 10k hours and you're currently doing 3k words per day, which is on the high end of what a professional like yourself should be able to do. Your rate is 0.05 cents per word, which is about the average for your language combination. Life is often stressful but decent.

Suddenly, every translation company you freelance for comes to you with this wonderful idea. They call it post-editing, where they give you a machine-translated text and you merely review that output and you no longer charge per word but per hour. "Don't worry," they say. "This is not replacing you, it's just a tool that will help you be more productive. And hey, just to make sure we're fair, we'll calculate your new hourly rate based on your current rate per word. Just so you can see that this is great for both of us and we are not treating you unfairly. Sounds good, right?"

Right.

So you take the offer, start post-editing instead of translating and... Eru be praised! You are now doing 6k words per day, double your previous output and your pay remains pretty much the same. Sure, the quality is lower and sometimes it takes you a bit longer to fix the nonsense the machine spits out but it's not like you were translating Gil-Galad's poetry and nobody reads all this stuff anyway, right? The Elven market is thriving and we are still doing relatively good.

Except...

Who is this newfangled productivity really for? Your output has doubled, sure, but your rate remains the same. Your company is swimming in cash, the line goes up for them but not for you. Since the end customer doesn't really care about quality that much, you're now even more replaceable than you were before. But that's not even the worst part.

The worst part is that the longer you rely on that machine translated text for your work, the less you are able to work without it.

Think that's bullshit? Think again. Ask any immigrant who, after living in a different country for years, becomes progressively worse at their mother tongue. Every skill is a muscle that you build and the moment you stop exercising it, you start getting weaker. You've spent countless hours perfecting your craft and now, you've outsourced it to some machine, traded it in so that you can spit out subpar texts and the CEO of some translation company can buy a third luxury car. And you kind of had no choice in it, because your 3k words per day pale in comparison to the 6k words per day a post-editor can deliver. Sure, they technically haven't replaced you. But they sure as hell devalued your craft and made you dependent on them.

Don't be fooled, this isn't progress. This is, in fact, the opposite of it. For God's sake, don't let this happen to writers. And do not be dazzled by the sparkle of GenAI if you want your brain-cells to keep braining.

[oo0-will-of-the-wisp-0oo]

On ai- I think one of the main distinctions between editing something and having ai produce it is one requires. Effort, and actual time/thought behind it. Spending a minute feeding a database prompts until you get something you want is nothing compared to the countless hours put into a piece, be it writing/art/etc

You could argue that by virtue of posting something online, people sort of sign away on what people do with their art, but even in such cases you cannot deny that ai companies went about collecting data in malicious and deceptive ways- often without any time to genuinely revoke consent.

With ai art, people can replicate someone's style, which can then threaten their own personal brand/livelihood. This becomes more apparent when you know that a major part of the actors strike was specifically against ai owning the rights to people's image/voice indefinitely. An actors entire workplace existence hinges upon the fact that they will be paid to be somewhere and say and do something- this gives them the security of an income, but it also gives them the right to turn down any works they don't agree with/don't want to be a part of. By removing the actual *actor* from acting, the company can get away with not having to actually pay someone, let alone pay someone a living wage

I think the biggest reason I, and many others, are against ai, is for the same exact reason people would be against reposting art instead of reblogging, or the reason we used to get all the warnings against online piracy: it will directly hurt the creators that spent countless hours working on something. The difference between piracy and ai, however, is ai hurts creators that are just like you, and your community, and it will continue to do so if left unchecked

It is a very big win that ai generated works cannot be copywrited, bc it means that people will not be able to profit off of something they did not truly make. It would be unreasonable for someone to launch a TV show where the premise was ai, or the script itself, or the actors, and then try to claim ownership over it, and insist that they make a profit off of it, that no one else can use it, when in truth they had no part in the actual creating of the show

This is kinda a mess, and im open to more discussion/providing links to stuff mentioned later, but hopefully this is kind of an insight into why ai isn't. The best

Yes! Thanks for the discussion!

I think you’re responding to my previous post: https://www.tumblr.com/oo0-will-of-the-wisp-0oo/748487000957550592/any-of-my-people-interested-in-discussing-ai

If I were to use AI, I would be 100% honest about. Also I would charge less in most cases.

The reason being is it feels to me like it is providing me with images/information, and therefore helps me save time. I prefer to use it as a tool, though rather than use it as a means to an end. At least with the few AI I’ve experimented with, I’ve noticed that the program/algorithm kind of does a half-ass job on it’s own and the final piece would need to be edited to my satisfaction - especially text prompts. Using only text-prompts produces pretty substandard results. I find whatever the AI spits out usually needs to be edited, sometimes rather extensively, or else it’s unusable. And it takes up more time than I like for the program to process. I don’t just want to text-prompt and keep whatever gets developed.

There are some AI that you can use a photo or drawing of your own as reference. AI Arta is one of these. I’m playing around with Bing and Picsart, too. And of course EVERY app seems to be providing its users with its own AI (although usually using original products such as Dall-E or Midjourney, is what I find)…

Also, my original link on my blog said AI can’t be copyrighted… However I’ve found at least Dall-E allows you to make a profit: “Subject to the Content Policy and Terms, you own the images you create with DALL·E, including the right to reprint, sell, and merchandise — regardless of whether an image was generated through a free or paid credit. Oct 29, 2023” - although perhaps this still doesn’t mean it’s under your own copyright… I’m not sure about that.

I’ll just finish this reply to you saying I think everyone should keep discussing AI. Thanks again for your own input. I figure the more it’s talked about, the more we’ll figure out how to use it. I don’t want to snub people who are completely for or against it. I WANT to hear what people think about it. If I learn something I didn’t know before because of keeping an open mind, that’s a good thing.

Hope what I’m writing is comprehensible, it’s after 5am. I should get to sleep! lol

Here’s a website where the opinion is that AI won’t “take over” people’s jobs/artistry, but it will make their jobs more efficient for them.

[avintagekiss24]

—belated; bucky barnes

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x black!reader

word count: 4738

warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, sex, rough sex, anal sex, biting kink, choking kink, spanking, pain kink, vaginal fingering, mean bucky (my fave), ring kink cuz i love it when boys wear rings

squares filled: @buckybarnesbingo Y3: Birthdays ; @badthingshappenbingo Biting ; @star-spangled-bingo N1: Taking Charge

request: bucky barnes + "pay attention to me or i'll make you" + anal + choking + spanking + biting + pain

author note: it's been foreverrrrr! i'm so sorry! i had to work myself through a little slump! hopefully this makes up for the almost two months we've gone without a fic! this is story #2 for my 5k celebration, all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. this was formatted in the beta text post editor on desktop, if anything looks weird, that's why :)

gif by @pedropcl ; line divider by @firefly-graphics

James Buchanan Barnes is possessive.

One of those massive hands around the back of your neck as you walk casually through the streets. Fingers wrapped around your wrist, or shoulder, or hip in a tight grip. He pulls you in close— right into his side as shopping bags hang from the tips of his metal fingers.

Bucky Barnes wants every man on the streets of Greece to know that you are his.

Not that you mind; quite the contrary. You just smile and giggle when he throws his heavy arm around your shoulders and hooks the crease of his arm right underneath your chin. Slip your hand into the back pocket of his loose dark jeans (giving that little tush of his a squeeze). Slink your arm around his little waist and breathe in his scent— heavy and woodsy— as the two of you stroll.

After all, he’s just as much yours as you are his.

All of his friends, Sam, Steve, Clint, all see the change in him. The little soft spot for you that blinds him entirely— turns him in a mushy puddle of emotions and puppies and rainbows. Very different from the Bucky they grew up with, but a Bucky that the three of them have come to enjoy. It’s a change of pace from the enforcer they know.

The two of you don’t talk about his work— in fact, it’s the reason why you’re in Greece to begin with. A late birthday present to make up for the fact that his “work” just happened to be the waiter at the restaurant he chose to take you to for your thirty second birthday. Come on babe, he chuckled as you scowled back at him over the rim of your wine glass, watching as he stained his white napkin red with his bloody knuckles, you know what they say, kill two birds with one stone… not funny?

Two weeks, two nonrefundable, open ended tickets, and five grand in bikinis, shorts, and shoes later, you’re getting some much needed Greek sun on your deep brown skin.

He’s even letting you call the shots for a change. Letting you wake him up at the ass crack of dawn to have breakfast— a spread of breads, cheeses and fruits on the balcony of your room as the sun rises. He doesn’t say a word as you drag him through the city, stopping at each little boutique and shoe store. Sits patiently as you try on every dress, every skirt, and every silk top in the entire country it seems.

Bucky even bit his lip as you gazed at engagement rings— hinting that princess cut is your favorite as you held your hand up into the natural sunlight as one adored your finger. Smiling over at him and wiggling your eyebrows all the while as he narrowed his eyes and plastered a fake smile on his face.

Today has been like all the others, a lazy day spent on the beach, a quick nap underneath an umbrella, a concoction of too much sun and too many margaritas going straight to your head. Now, you’re kinda sleepy and kinda drunk, but most importantly hungry— and Mykonos sounds like a great place for dinner. Despite Bucky’s objections (you’re too tired and too drunk to handle a ferry), you’re dressed in a cute little flowery sundress, him in an out-of-character white tank top, open pale blue and green striped button down and khaki chinos— you forbade him from bringing anything black— and you’re flip flops are slapping against the cobblestone street towards the ferry.

“Drop your attitude,” You say, glancing over your shoulder as he pays for your tickets, “You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, that excuse is wearing thin, girl.” You stumble a little with the motion of the ferry as you step onto it, having to grab onto the railing to steady yourself before Bucky grabs hold of your wrist, “Water only for the rest of the night.”

His voice is low and borderline threatening as he presses his lips right against your ear, and you know not to press him any further. You like to stick your toes right up against his line and that’s what irritates him most about you (always what he loves most), but you and he both know you’d never dare cross it.

Bucky pulls you behind him, hand around your wrist, that possessive trait rearing its head as male eyes fall on you as the two of you pass by. He finds an empty spot, away from the crowd, and plops down on the bench as you step up on the lower rung of the railing and stare out over the sea.

Within twenty or thirty minutes, the ferry pulls away from the dock and you can’t wipe the smile from your face. The sun sets off in the distance, the bright lights of the city turning into little pinpoints. Small droplets of the cool, salty water splashes up in your face as the wind and the ferry whips it up. You keep glancing down at the phone in your hand as you broadcast your current view to your instagram, laughing softly as hearts and emojis explode on your screen.

You lean forward, tilting your phone and smiling wide, waving into the camera before you shout out how much you love it here. The words are barely out of your mouth before an arm wraps around your middle, a wide, hard chest pressed into your back, “That’s enough,” he reaches with his metal arm, grabbing your phone, ending your live feed, “You’re too drunk to be hanging off the side like that.”

“I am not,” you struggle against him lightly as he sets you on your feet, “What is your problem?”

“I’m annoyed.”

“Well, duh. Why?”

He slips your phone into his pocket and crosses his arms over his chest, sharp blue eyes piercing into yours, “Pay attention to me,” he says low, eyes dropping down your body real slow as he drags his bottom lip between his teeth, “Or I’ll make you.”

So that’s what it’s about. Bucky Barnes feels neglected between all the shopping and beach days and margaritas. Jealousy is cute on him.

The words though, they strike you right to your core— feel them down to your bones. A hard swallow pushes through your throat as your lips part, big brown eyes softening as your breath starts to rush a little harder. You hate to admit— not really— you love this Bucky. This is work Bucky, a man you rarely get to see. Slightly scary, anger brimming just below the surface. Jaw tight, eyes hard, head tilted just a bit. He’s menacing, and it makes your lips twitch into a small smile.

Shrugging defiantly, you cross your arms over your chest, “You didn’t pay much attention to me on my birthday.”

“Not true.”

“Not true?” you nearly shout, eyes going wide, “I ate alone while you beat the hell outta our waiter behind the building! I had to wait two hours for my slice of cake!”

“How is that my fault?”

You scoff, “Oh, I dunno, maybe because our waiter was spitting out his teeth in the alley out back— all thanks to you.”

“I have to work. You know that.”

“Not,” you hiss, “On my fucking birthday.”

He knows he’s wrong for that shit, so he stands there, huffing quick before he cocks his head again and just blinks back at you— unamused. He won’t apologize, it’s just not in his nature, but his usual attempts to make you happy after he’s fucked up aren’t working; so he’s at a loss.

And you’re enjoying that. A little too much if you ask him.

But alas, it’s not fun to fight on vacation, and you have taken far too many liberties when it comes to his tolerance for attitude. It’s been fun— and you’re just drunk enough to push him one last time.

You move slow, walking right up to him, so close that each inhale pushes your tits into his body. The smirk quirked up on your lips grows as you peer up at him, eyes bouncing between his as you place your hands on his forearms still crossed over his chest.

Bucky lifts his eyebrow as you push up on your tiptoes and push your chin forward to bring your lips close to his, “And just how are you gonna make me pay attention to you, James?”

He inhales deep, pushes it out real slow as he tilts his head even further. A smile spreads on his face and you just know that this is the last thing his work sees before he rearranges the bones of their face. This is exactly why his clients pay him as well as they do.

Thick fingers are wrapped around your wrist again, nails digging into your skin as he starts to pull you behind him. He weaves you through bodies, you nearly having to jog to keep up with his strides. Laughter bubbles up in your chest, a little shriek escaping as he pulls you down some stairs to the lower level of the ferry. Once your feet hit the last step, Bucky whips you around his body, sending you spinning and laughing until you bounce into an old, rusty metal barrel.

The smell of salt fills your nose and lungs as you inhale, covering your face with your hands. Your skin is hot, lips slightly numb as you dissolve into laughter again. He’s right, you’re a little too drunk for this.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be down here.” You mumble, brushing your wild hair out of your face.

“I could give a fuck,” he answers, stepping up to you, grabbing your face in his hands, “You’ve been testing me the entire time we’ve been here all over some stupid shit.”

Another giggle pushes through your lips as you bat your eyes, “I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky sucks his teeth as he drops his metal hand around your throat and squeezes gently, the rings on his fingers cool against your skin, “I was stupid, okay? But don’t put on that little innocent act, girl. You’re trying me, and I’ve had enough.”

A smile cracks onto your face, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You wrap both hands around his one wrist and slip them up his arm, feeling the soft metal as you continue to goad him, “You got some proof, big man?”

The tip of his black and gold thumb prods at your lip, pushes just inside. You wrap your tongue around it and suck gently, keeping your eyes on his all the while.

Bucky laughs, deep and earnestly, “Proof, she says. She needs proof.” He glances around before he spins you quick, facing you away from him as he lifts your dress to reveal your pink satin thong.

You squeal loud, pushing and slapping at his hand as he grabs a handful of your ass, “Bucky! There’s people!” you laugh, “Oh my god!”

“Keep your voice down,” he warns, wrapping his metal fingers around your throat again, “Understand?”

A jolt of electricity flashes through you as you wiggle in his grasp. He tightens his grip around your neck as you wrap your fingers around the edge of the barrel, swallowing hard.

“That requires an answer, honey.”

The chill in his voice, added with the slow circles and soft tickles of fingertips against the back of your naked thigh sends a pang through your belly, “I understand.”

He chuckles soft and with a quick peck on the cheek whispers, “Good girl.”

Bucky curls his left arm around your chest, hooking your chin in the crease of his arm as he grips your right shoulder. You grab on to it with both hands, out of instinct, eyes wide and skirting around for any signs of other human presence down here. Bucky turns, moving you with him to eye the steps quickly again before that flesh hand sweeps around to the front.

The soft material of your dress falls over his hand as he rubs your stomach— his rings catching and snagging your skin. That hand pushes downward, over your thighs, gripping and kneading the soft flesh before he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it upward, exposing those expensive panties again.

“Bucky,” you hum, his name trembling on your lips with the vibrations of your excitement, “Baby.”

He rucks your dress right up— right up around your waist and pulls the slack behind you, pressing his body into yours to keep it in place. The dark stubble adorning his cheeks and chin cuts into the side of your face as he nuzzles in, humming to himself soft before he kisses the corner of your mouth.

Those fingertips start to trace the hem of your thong— slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. From hip to hip. Your eyes flutter. Fingers grip the soft black metal of his arm a little harder. Legs go to jelly as another hard swallow passes through your throat.

“Ain’t got all that mouth now, do you?” He whispers, fingers slipping just inside the silk of your panties to tease the delicate skin underneath.

When he slips his hand in— all the way in— cupping hot skin, fingers dancing between folds and teasing a wet slit, an influx of air fills your lungs. A gasp, small and clipped sounds in the back of your throat as his fingers start a rhythm. You melt into him, head resting on his shoulder as your hips push forward to meet greedy fingers.

A naughty finger pushes in quick, and then a second— all the way to the black and silver rings dressed on them. His arm tightens around your neck as he presses his lips right against your ear, “You need to apologize.”

He fucks his fingers into you, withdrawing slow, and then pushing back in— each time the edges of his rings stopping him from going deeper. You can’t help but purr as you continue to grip his arm with both of your hands.

“I don’t think—“

“All I want to hear,” his words clip yours, each one slow and drawn and deep, “Is I’m sorry for testing your patience. I won’t do it again.” He curls his fingers, the pads stroking that sweet little spongey spot, making you clamp your legs closed around his hand, “Let me hear you.”

You can’t. You won’t. Too stubborn and too drunk to give in to him, wanting to win just this once.

If there’s one thing James Buchanan Barnes does not like, it’s hesitation. It’s dangerous, he always says. You think too long, you get hurt. Predators don’t hesitate.

Well, you like being his prey.

Only a few seconds pass before Bucky tuts in your ear, seemingly disappointed in your obstinate behavior, but you both know it’s just the opposite. His cock pressing into your ass tells you so.

The fingers disappear. The arm choking you just right pulls away and your dress falls back around the middle of your thighs. You huff, wiping quick at your forehead and pushing your wild, curly hair out of your face again.

Your hands find your hips in irritation but he slaps them away quick as he sucks his teeth, “You must really want this spanking, girl. Keep it up.”

That you do— keep it up. Huffing again. Crossing your arms over your chest like a petulant child. Brown eyes cut back at him over your shoulder to find sharp blues already on you. A smirk on his face.

Metal fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing you forward gently until your thighs press against the old metal barrel again.

“Lean forward, kitten.”

Voice as smooth as silk while you do so, gripping the rusted edges for balance. Your dress is yanked up again— rough this time— and twisted around his Vibranium hand. Then there’s warm, the warmth of skin against yours. Gentle brushes of fingers and a palm rubbing slow circles, then pinching and grabbing soft— prepping your skin for what’s to come.

He pauses for just a second, no doubt to scan your surroundings and then pulls his hand away. You lung forward with the slap he levels to your behind within a fraction of a second— the sound sharp and heavy.

There’s another, and then a third in quick succession before he’s massaging your skin again. Real soft and sweet. Tears burn at the back of your eyes at the sting that radiates through, all the way to your bones but the molten heat deep in your belly spreads like a fire. Each breath is hard and shaky, heart thumping against your chest but it’s so good.

Bucky switches to the other cheek, skilled fingers sweeping over your canvas of skin before he cracks you— one, two, three.

You squeal with each one. The thud of those heavy rings around his fingers send a quick, new shockwave every time, building on the one before it. The tips of your fingers go red from holding on to the rusty old barrel as tight as you are, but your brain? She’s fuzzy and warm, and drifting up into the clouds with each swift slap.

Bucky is a methodical man. Three for the right cheek, three for the left, three right in the middle. His hand sneaks around your hip, giving it a squeeze before it comes back around and drops to the inside of your thigh. Grabs the meat of it— digs his fingernails in just to hear you yelp. Cups your cunt in his palm, feeling the heat and the wet— makes him groan all low and dirty.

He bunches your hair in his hand, tugs you up by it. Spins you around to face him before hoisting you up and settling you on top of the barrel.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, don’t you?” He growls, ripping at the button and zipper of his jeans.

You just hum in response, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your arms over his shoulders.

Bucky grabs your chin, forcing it up before he squeezes your cheeks, “Huh? Answer me.”

Damp eyelashes flutter as hot air escapes from parted, hot lips. He leans in real close, cock pushing right at your slit and kisses you hard as he slips his arm around your waist. He breaks away quick, sloppy and loud before pecking your lips once, twice, three times again.

“You want me to fuck you, girl?”

The weight of his words are felt right down to your core, a shiver passing between the two of you. You let your heavy head fall back and your eyes close as Bucky nuzzles into the side of your face, his pretty white teeth skipping along your neck, nipping and nibbling.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper after mere seconds, finally submitting in this cat and mouse game, “Bucky, please.”

That’s all he needs— all he wants. For you to submit, after letting you have the reins for one day too long. He sinks into you slow, spreading you open with each inch, biting down into the side of your neck as he bottoms out. His teeth dig in a little deeper, a little harder as he starts to move, rocking back and forth almost succinct with the waves of the water.

You’re moving with him too, meeting each of his thrusts with your hips. You keep your legs tight around his waist, feet dangling and bouncing against the back of his thighs. A trail of hot kisses are pressed along your neck and down your shoulder before traipsing back up— teeth grazing along your jaw.

Long fingers skip up your side and between your bouncing tits to only wrap around your neck again. They squeeze, gently, as his pace starts to pick up, hips shoving harder and faster— that old barrel starting to scrape against the wood floor.

The force makes you louder, moaning with abandon as if the two of you are all alone on this little ferry. Bucky makes quick work of you, shoving metal fingers into your mouth— giving you something to suck on to keep you quiet.

“That’s a good girl.” he growls, voice gritty and low.

He’s punishing after that. Each snap of his hips thrusting you backward, the barrel you’re on top of tipping back and then slapping down on the floor. You yelp with each one, your mouth going slack around his digits as your hands fall to the edges of the barrel for some semblance of balance.

It’s obscene, the way you can hear your fuck. The wet of your cunt. The squeak of his cock plunging into tight, slick muscles. The heavy thud of his hips pounding into yours. The slap of your flip flops falling to the wood floor as he’s quite literally fucked them right off of your feet. It’s filthy— crude— and so very Bucky.

You’re back on your feet before you know it— before you realize it. Spun back around, Bucky’s hard chest and stomach pressed into your back. He grabs both of your hands and places them back on the barrel, his metal hand staying on top of yours, fingers gripping fingers.

Eager hips wiggle back into his as you hiss and sink your teeth into your bottom lip, groaning low. Your head drops when you feel his cock push through your ass cheeks— wet cockhead pressing against your hot rim.

He starts to fumble around behind you, each passing second making you more and more impatient. There’s a soft click, and then a light suction sound— something squeezing.

“Bucky,” you hiss, pushing back into him again, “Hur—”

The word breaks off right in the middle as he levels a quick smack against your hip— a warning. Then your ass cheeks are pulled apart, wet, slimy fingers sliding and prodding at your quivering rim. He brushes slow strokes, circling, pressing his fingers gently as he preps your little hole for what’s to come.

“What kind of freak brings lube to dinner?” you smile, gasping as he pinches the inside of your thigh.

You lurch forward when he grabs the back of your neck and yanks you back into him, lips right against your cheek, “The kinda freak that was gonna fuck you in an alley after dinner. Now shut that mouth.”

He’s pressing again, this time harder, his cockhead popping into you with force. You grunt with the initial intrusion, Bucky stopping his assault to allow you time to adjust to him— but that doesn’t last long. Your mouth goes slack again. Eyes slam shut, head falls forward as he slips in, deeper and deeper and deeper until his stomach is flush with your ass.

He wiggles— so you can feel him, feel him tickling the deepest part of you. Slaps at your ass again, quick, fingers glancing off your skin and leaving behind a hell of a sting. Then he’s fucking you again, slower this time, savoring the tight, glove-like hold your body provides.

Metal fingers grab at the hem of your dress again, tugging it up before they push back into your panties, finding a swollen, hot nub. Pinching and rubbing smooth circles against it, flicking and thrashing at the bundle of nerves before he shoves his fingers back into your cunt. They curl, those fingers, and pet your insides with surgical precision— only James Buchanan Barnes knows how to fuck you like this.

The heel of his palm slams against your clit as he fingers you rough and fucks your ass with gusto. Sleazy sounds gurgle up in your throat, the slapping of skin and the waves crashing against the side of the ferry, the rush of the wind filling your ears. Bucky pulls you flush against him and slithers his tongue just beneath your ear before his teeth grab a hold, tugging soft.

Teeth keep nipping— along your jaw, your cheeks, ears, neck. He fucks into you hard as he shoves his flesh hand into the neckline of your dress, gripping your tits. Pinching and kneading hard, thick nipples, mumbling sweet nothings all the while.

Your stomach churns, muscles tensing and flexing as synapses start to fire off in quick succession. Quick goosebumps pop up along your skin as your stomach tightens and you can taste it it’s so close. Bucky knows it, feels it as your walls constrict around his fingers, your asshole tightening around him. Vibranium fingers keep rubbing, keep fucking into your pussy hard, palm slapping against your clit, adding more and more pressure until the coil snaps.

It’s hard, and sudden— your body freezing as your orgasm consumes you. Bucky clamps a wet hand over your mouth as you mewl and bite into his palm, your hips thrusting forward with each wave of your release. He pulls his fingers from you to slap at your jumping clit, pressing the pads into it before he rubs quick little circles and then slaps at it again.

He drops his hand to your chin, yanking it up as you nearly cry, mewling and trembling with your release to kiss you hard and sloppy as you come. He kneads your tits with his mammoth hand as aftershocks flash through you, your used body jerking at random. Within seconds, there's a cloud of warmth in your ass. Rough grunts in your ear, growing louder with each spurt of his cock, your hot muscles milking him.

You let him use you, let him fill you up full of his silk. Grab his hands and lace your fingers with his as he empties long ribbons in you. Pull his arms around your waist and hold them there as he rides it out, his head falling to your shoulder. The two of you stand there, resting against that old barrel, breathing hard, skin sticky and balmy. Salt from the ocean in your nose.

Bucky’s the first to pull away, glancing back at the stairs before he pulls himself gingerly from you, leaving your body empty, a dribble of his come slipping out with him. He catches it with his fingers, drags them up the back of your thigh and between your ass cheeks before he shrugs out of his collared shirt and white tank top.

He cleans you up sweet with the tank top. Keeps his arm around your waist to steady you as he wipes at your thighs and your hot, sticky, puffy cunt, shushing you soft when you jump and whimper at the contact. He flings the messy tank top over the side of the ferry and rubs your hips and stomach real slow, murmuring into your ear all the while.

Diligent fingers then rearrange your thong— and cop a little feel, cupping your sensitive, swollen sex, giving it a little pinch so he can laugh when you shiver and squeak. Bucky pulls your dress, tugging lightly to get it back straight around your waist before smoothing it over your ass and thighs— even pulls at the top, making sure your tits are sitting pretty.

You can’t even open your eyes, overcome by alcohol and sleepiness and a post sex high. He fumbles with your fingers as your head lulls on his shoulder, a soft hum vibrating in your throat in your murky haze. Bucky lifts your arm by the elbow, sliding his hand up your forearm until he’s cupping your hand in his.

“Open your eyes, baby.” You groan in protest, causing a chuckle to rumble through his chest, “Come on.”

So you do. You always do whatever this man wants you to do— and there, right on your finger sits that big princess cut engagement ring you teased him with days before.

“How about we skip dinner and find a church, huh?” he whispers, kissing your cheek soft and sweet.

You glance at him over your shoulder, eyes wet as a smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth, “And if I say no?”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He laughs as you adjust in his arms, pushing up on your tiptoes to cup his handsome face and kiss him on those pretty pink lips, “Then I guess I’ll have to fuck some sense into that pretty mouth of yours, won’t I birthday girl?”

[lacheri]

11:29 PM, 4/20

pairing: stoner!Eren and fem bodied reader

content: smoking/drugs, dumbification, finger fucking, penetration, porn without plot, minors DNI

summary: eren's been trying to fuck you for years now, and he's got a different angle to play at this time. all it takes are a few pretty words and free weed.

wc: 3.5k

notes: happy 4/20 lmfao i wrote this in two hours and i'm posting this unedited and half asleep

‘Rolling up, you sliding through?’

Your phone illuminated brightly against your face as you held your phone above you, your bed’s soft comforter brought up to your chin. You bit your lip, contemplating Eren’s invitation. Your eyes glanced to the clock in the corner of your phone screen, blinking a couple of times. ‘11:29 PM’ it read back.

‘Pleaaaase, 4/20 is almost over ):’ Eren had resorted to double texting, and you sighed, his battle easily won. You tried to believe it was fought hard, but you knew perfectly well that you were wrapped around Eren’s pretty little finger. He called, you answered. Simple as that.

‘I want a blunt all to myself for this Jaeger. I’m literally in bed right now’ you typed back quickly, clicking the off button on the side of your device, begrudgingly throwing your blanket off your body as the heat escaped. You gazed down at your attire, sweatshirt and sleep shorts bundled up to your form, and you sighed once again. Eren was going to have to accept you like this, because there was absolutely no way in Hell that you could fathom throwing on real clothes this late at night.

‘What’re you wearing? Send pics’

‘Eren I’m LITERALLY!!! On my way to your house right now’. This boy was going to be the death of you, or at least whatever brain cells you had left.

Fuzzy pink slides adorned on your feet, hair thrown up in the messiest ‘neat’ bun you could manage, you pocketed your keys and wallet. You grabbed your bookbag in the corner of your room full of paraphernalia, knowing well by now that Eren was too lazy to buy bongs or bowls, and made your way out of your home, locking the front door on your way out. You hit the unlock button on your car, throwing the bag in the passenger seat and set out for your late night journey.

It wasn’t uncommon for your best friend to hit you up so late, in fact it was Eren’s peak hours for hanging out. He never genuinely inconvenienced you, just an annoyance because every single time you got that invite text or call, your head would have just hit the pillow beneath you, sleep on the horizon. Traffic was the best at this time too, you would reason on the way there, virtually no cars on the road, turning your usual twenty minute ride into a ten minute one.

When you rolled up Eren’s driveway, you could see the dark red lights of his bedroom through the upstairs window on the front of the house. You picked your phone out of your pocket, texting a quick ‘I’m here’. You grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder and climbed out of your car. By the time you made it to his front door, Eren was swinging it open, a goofy smile on his face.

“Just us tonight?” you asked, referring to the lack of cars in the driveway as you glided through the entryway.

“Yeah, feeling greedy. We haven’t hung out just us in awhile,” Eren smirked, leaning back and letting his eyes travel down your spine as you slid by him. He reached and pulled the door closed, locking it quickly and following quickly behind you.

You spent most of your nights here, knowing the pathway to Eren’s room. You jogged up the stairs, oblivious to Eren’s eyes trained in on your bouncing ass in your loose fitted shorts. His bedroom door was wide open, and you navigated over clothes thrown haphazardly on his floor to his unmade bed. You bounced as you sat down, hitting the mattress with your full weight and unzipping your bag, picking out your favorite bowl. Eren lifted the corner of his mouth, clearly amused at how at home you had made yourself.

“Comfy?” he asked, a teasing tone to his voice as he joined you on the bed, rolling tray and jar of bud in hand.

“Mhm,” you hummed, eyeing Eren’s hands as they set quickly to work. His grinder sat on the bed behind him, and after picking out a few clusters of green from the jar, he reached behind him and popped the top off, going through the motions of getting prepped for the smoke session. “What’d you do today?”

Eren shot you a dumb founded look, “It’s 4/20, what do you think I’ve been doing all day?”

You rolled your eyes, throwing your hands up in surrender, “Just making a joke, asshole.”

He chuckled, extending his hand out so you could pass him your bowl, packing it not long after. Eren looked around his mattress for a lighter, eyebrows drawn together as he couldn’t find one. You smirked then, extending the black lighter you had packed in your bag, and Eren smiled gratefully. He flicked the lighter once it was in his possession, pointer finger resting over the choke as he placed the pipe to his lips, inhaling deeply as the fresh green turned to ash. He lifted his long finger off the choke hole, removing the pipe as he held the smoke in for a few seconds, eyes instantly glazing as he exhaled.

Eren was one of those smokers that the second he had a hit of weed, it was written all over his face that he was high, even if he wasn’t. When Eren picked up the habit in highschool, his parents knew instantly what the boy had been doing during his “study sessions” with his friends. Now that he was an adult and moved out of his childhood home, Eren was pretty free in his indulgences, no longer carrying around eye drops to try and help him appear as innocent as possible.

After his second hit, Eren passed you back your bowl and lighter, coughing lightly as he exhaled, “What about you? What’d you do today?”

“Not much, spent all day watching documentaries and smoking my vape,” you laughed lightly, positioning the pipe to your own lips.

Eren’s eyes drank in the sight of your pretty plump lips as they wrapped around the tip of the pipe, fingers copying his as you bent your finger over the choke. The lighter ignited after a single flick, warm colored flames illuminating your face. It was like Eren was watching you in slow motion, but it was always like that with you, even when he wasn’t high. He could see the fire in your eyes as they focused downwards to your actions, and Eren felt his mouth go dry. You pulled the bowl away, making eye contact with him as the smoke exited your lips, licking your face as it traveled towards the ceiling on your exhale.

The two of you made small talk as you passed the bowl back and forth, Eren making a face once the bud was dead. He packed another bowl, repeating the rotation until that one was dead. The two of you thoroughly fried, he put the pipe on his bedside table and leaned his back against the wall by his bed. You mirrored him, resting your head on his broad shoulder as the two of you enjoyed each other’s company.

“We should make edibles this weekend,” you suggested, fingers playing with the drawstring of your hoodie. “Maybe invite the group over and get zooted and play a game or something.”

“Zooted?” Eren snorted. “I haven’t heard that word in years, grandma.”

You shot Eren a glare, which he began to laugh at, “I’m hip, okay? Zooted is making a comeback.”

“Stop trying to fit in with the youth, Myrtle,” he teased, wrapping his arm around your waist to tuck you into his side. “Man, if I was only 50 years older.”

You lightly elbowed his side, “You wish you could bag 70 year old me. I’m a fucking catch.”

“I wish I could bag you period,” Eren confessed, probably for the hundredth time of you knowing him. “How come you’ve never let me take you out?”

“Because, you’d just fuck and dump me and then I wouldn’t have a plug anymore,” you pouted, purposefully snuggling in closer.

“Is that what you really think?” he asked seriously, positioning his neck to the side so he could look down at you.

You looked up, centimeters apart from his face, “That’s what you did with all the other girls.”

“But you’re my best friend,” Eren frowned, taking his hand and pushing your hair behind your ear. “I wouldn't do that to you.”

“Don’t know if I wanna’ really find that out,” you smiled sadly.

“C’mon, let me prove it to you,” Eren licked his lips. “Fuck me, right now, and I’ll take you out tomorrow.”

You felt a pulse in your pussy suddenly, gulping spit down as you broke the eye contact, “I don’t know ‘Ren. We’ve been friends since highschool, what if it makes things weird?”

“You can’t look me in the eyes right now and tell me that you’ve never thought about it, about us,” his voice was a hare above a whisper. “Because I think about it all the time. ‘Is why I hit you up all the time, I like you stupid, I always have.”

This confession was so different from all the other ones. Eren was practically begging to let him in between your legs on a weekly basis, ever since you had met him. Never once had he been this honest though, so genuine sounding about his feelings. He had a point as well, you thought about being with him all the time. You were always at his house or going out somewhere together, you spent all your free time with him, of course you would have feelings for Eren.

“If,” you started, your eyes blinking rapidly as you returned your gaze to his red ones. “I say yes, and things are weird after, we’re going to pretend like this never happened and we go back to being friends.”

“Deal.”

Eren’s lips crashed into your’s, any and all hesitation rolling off your body as you eagerly returned his kiss. His other arm circled you, bringing you in somehow even closer to him as your hands grabbed both of his cheeks, feeling the flex of his jaw as you smashed your lips together. Eren’s hand traveled under the hem of your sweatshirt to the small of your back, guiding you to sit in his lap. Legs on either side of his hips, your tongues slipped through the both of your lips, meeting in the middle.

Maybe it was the high, maybe it was Eren, but the throbbing in your cunt only expanded as Eren smoothed his hands all over the middle of your torso. They traveled up to the swell of your breasts, free from a bra, cupping both tits in his large hands. His thumbs slid and teased your nipples, hardening instantly under his touch. You arched your back, pushing your chest into his palms even more, your hips flicking as he tweaked your nipples between his fingers.

You both moaned into each other’s mouths at the roll of your hips, feeling Eren’s dick harden fast underneath your clothed center. Eren had been wearing a pair of thin grey sweatpants, leaving not much to the imagination while he was in this state. You felt his lips scrape against your bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth and sucking gently. He released it, a string of saliva linking to the two of you together.

“I’ve been imagining this for forever,” Eren’s eyes were glazed and deep red when you met his gaze. “I just never thought this would happen.”

“I’ve been wanting you too,” you admitted, your dirty little secret exposed.

He smirked at your confession, hands still toying with your breasts. Silencing you once more with his passionate kiss, he moved his hands downwards and to your back until he met the waistband of your shorts. He easily slid under the hem, gripping your ass in his palms, kneading and spreading you apart. You felt your pussy flutter, the indirect contact sending you into a deep pit of arousal, your senses heightened greatly.

It was like Eren could read your mind, and his fingers traveled to your spread cunt over his lap, running a finger over your slit over your panties. You whined, pressing your hips down to achieve a greater pressure from his hand, in turn allowing your wetness to seep through the cotton of your panties. Eren chuckled against your lips, reading your body language loud and clear. He pushed the fabric aside, allowing his knuckles to brush directly into your folds. You moaned into his mouth as he spread your arousal around your vulva. When his thumb bumped against your clit, you felt your patience snap entirely.

“‘Ren, need your fingers, now,” you panted, eyes half lidded as his kiss traveled to the underside of your jaw.

“You got it, baby girl,” he hummed into your skin. There was no resistance as he pushed his middle finger into your opening. “Fuck, you’re fucking soaked. This all for me?”

You couldn’t find your voice, nodding and whining out as he pumped his single digit into your pussy. His touch was slow, deliberate, trying to memorize every single ridge and flutter of your walls as you pulsed around him. Eren’s mouth was dry, dick hard and throbbing, completely lost in the feeling of you sucking his finger in deeper. He couldn’t comprehend the fact that his cock would be replacing his fingers soon, finally fucking you like he had imagined for years now.

His middle finger dared to pull out, and you let out a desperate whine, thinking that was his plan. You gasped in relief and pleasure as his ring finger pushed past your entrance, clenching tightly on his fingers. Eren found solace in this, perceiving your flutters as permission to go finger fuck you at an ungodly pace. He positioned his wrist as a more comfortable angle, and his fingers pumped inside of you at the speed of light.

Your eyebrows came together, mouth hanging open as you squeaked and whined, Eren’s other hand finding purchase on your jaw. He squeezed your cheeks together lightly, forcing your lips to pout as he maintained direct eye contact with you. His own lips hung open, and you could see your reflection in his blown out pupils. It only enticed you more, you looked heavenly. Eren couldn’t have worded it before himself if you had verbalized this, whole heartedly agreeing with you.

“You’re so tight,” Eren groaned out, his hand leaving your chin and slipping two fingers in between your lips. “Suck, baby.”

You did as you were told, Eren’s fingers slowing to fuck up into roughly, hitting your sweet spot over and over. Your tongue circled around his knuckles, lips vibrating on his fingers as your moans were silenced. Eren was thoroughly enjoying himself, seeing you completely under his control like this. You were putty in the palm of his hands, literally.

He slid his fingers out of your cunt so suddenly, feeling the gush of your arousal against your inner thighs as his hand left your shorts. His other hand fell out of your mouth, moving back to your jaw as you felt the wetness of your spit spread across your face. Eren brought the hand he was fucking you with to his own mouth, and you were practically drooling at the sight of him sucking your pussy juices off of his fingers.

“Delicious,” he cooed after he pulled them from his lips. “Just like I always imagined.”

You took this as your opportunity to remove some of your clothing. You tugged your hoodie over your head, tossing it on the floor. Eren followed suit, removing his own white t-shirt and reattaching his lips to yours. You tasted hints of yourself, not at all repulsed, in fact the exact opposite. You tasted sweet, tart but sweet.

You pushed yourself away from Eren, scooting off his lap in order to tear off your shorts and panties. Eren mirrored you, almost ripping his pants and boxers off as he slid them past his thighs and ankles to the floor. He remained in his seated position, eyes swirling and fingers twitching at his sides as he watched your crawl back to him. You placed a sloppy kiss to his lips before turning your body around, placing your feet on the mattress on either side of his lap. Sat in a full crouch now, you grabbed Eren’s cock, pumping him a few times with both of your hands in a screw motion. He moaned from behind you, his own hands gripping your ass cheeks to support your frame.

You guided Eren to your hovering pussy, teasing your clit, soaking him in your dripping heat. He cursed underneath you, his right hand moving to your hip as you lowered yourself on his length. Eren groaned loudly as the feelings of satisfaction and relief flowed through his body, his own heightened senses taking over. You moved to rest on your knees when you felt Eren bottom out inside of you, a string of moans and whimpers leaving your lips. You arched your back and Eren leaned back more, eyes stationed on your beautiful round ass.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he ran a hand up to the back of your head, untangling your messy bun so your hair fell free down your back. “C’mon baby, bounce on my dick.”

You lifted your hips, slamming down to his pelvis urgently. It was so overwhelming, the feeling of his cock filling you to the brim making your brain empty. Your eyes screwed shut, mouth hanging open dumbly as drool coated the swell of your lips. You bounced again, and Eren yanked your hair back as he watched your pussy stretch around him, close to snapping and drilling into you as he saw the creamy ring form around his base. You were a moaning mess, unable to think clearly as your body took over. Pushing all your weight into your knees and palms resting on Eren’s thighs, you fastened your pace, ass bouncing every time Eren’s fat tip brushed up against your cervix.

You felt the sharp sting on your cheek and heard the resounding slap of his hand on your right cheek, tears springing to your eyes, “Fuck, Eren, you feel so good.”

Taking your hips into his strong hands, Eren was finally at his brink as he thrusted hard up into. You yelped, letting yourself go limp as he slammed into your cunt at a dangerous pace. He was in full control now, fucking you into a stupor.

Your hand left it’s home of his thigh, traveling to your aching center to rub your clit. Eren’s position was perfect, rubbing the underside of his shaft against your g-spot. When you opened your eyes, you could see his toes curling, legs flexing and twitching. He wasn’t going to last long, your pussy putting him under a spell. You circled your clit with your pointer and middle fingers, throat raw from all the noises escaping you. All you felt was Eren, all you could hear was Eren, he was filling your entire being up, replacing any and all thoughts they may have lingered in your brain.

“Gonna’ cum,” you whined, fingers moving even faster.

“I’m so fucking close, fucking cum baby,” Eren growled, thrusts desperate and becoming irregular.

You stilled above him, a breathless scream heaving from your throat as you gushed around him. Your pussy clenched so tight, and Eren couldn’t hold back. Because as empty as your brain was, Eren was in the exact same state as he shot his thick load into you, filling your tight cunt up with his cum. You milked his cock, walls convulsing in your mind blowing orgasm. Black spots appeared in your vision when you realized you had forgotten to breathe, you took a deep gasp of air.

You were a panting, sweaty mess hovering over him. Eren was in awe, watching beads of his white seed leak out of your center. He’d worry about the consequences when his brain could comprehend what had just happened, but for now, the deep primal urge of filling you up was sedated. Eren didn’t think he could’ve imagined fucking you for the first time any better than this. And when you finally lifted your hips to release him, he felt a wave of sadness, your beautiful pussy no longer surrounding him.

“Did you, oh my God, Eren,” you lifted your hand in front of you, seeing the creamy white of his cum smeared on your fingers. “You came inside of me?”

“Sorry, baby,” he caught his breath as you turned your head over your shoulder to glare at him. “I’ll buy you Plan B in the morning, promise.”

“I’m on the pill, but still,” you huffed, letting the anger leave you as you realized Eren would take responsibility. “You didn’t know that.”

Eren laughed without humor, “Oh well, at least I know for next time. Now c’mere, wanna’ hold you while I roll a blunt.”

LACHERI © 2021: all writing content belongs to LACHERI. I do not allow reposts or translations. this is my only account.

[parkers-gal]

yay! okay so I was thinking, what I'd the reader and Tom had a fight, could be over anything, but the reader was pregnant and a few years after, they bump into each other and they get back together. Sorry if it doesn't make sense.

this has been sitting in my inbox for a fat couple of months… sorry 😭

wc: 1.7k ! <3

—

“No, because you’re selfish and you can’t handle the fact that my life doesn’t revolve around you and your needs.” Tom spits out the words angrily, viciously, voice harsh and crisp.

You’re both frustrated beyond belief, and the bubble that had been overblown had finally popped, splattering your relationship and all the joyful aspects of it. Right now, you felt as if all that was left was the toxicity of two unbearable people who happened to love each other. You knew, deep down, that you loved each other enough to get through this, but with every passing moment, with every exchanged word, you realized at least one of you wouldn’t survive the damage.

“No, Tom. You’re selfish. You’re conceited and you only care about being a goddamn movie star. What happened to the family man, huh? What happened to staying tied down with me and your brothers?”

“Nothing happened to him! I’m still that person. I am a family guy.”

“Not to me, you aren't.”

“Well you’re not family!” He seethes through his teeth, anger radiating off of his short-tempered demeanor. You don’t even know how to react, so you spend the time soaking in the situation and how you should respond instead of actually doing it.

“You’re a fucking jackass. I asked when I could spend time with you and now you don’t even consider me as part of the family.”

“No,” He’s clear and concise even through the anger. “You asked when I’m going to stop living my life.”

“I said no such thing.”

“You didn’t have to! We both know that’s what you meant.”

“You’re not even on the same page as me anymore,” You scoff, arms crossing. “Seems like all this time in Hollywood made you forget that you’re not always the main character.”

“Fuck that, Y/N! Fuck! That!”

“No, Tom. Fuck. You.” You over-express your emotions, and after two more minutes of unbearable silence and screaming, he’s leaving your apartment just as fast as he arrived. You’re in shock, fingers shaking while you clear your throat, which is frayed and sore from all the yelling.

You sit back, elbows on your knees while your hands smoothen out your forehead. Tear after tear escapes your sobbing body, and eventually, you fall asleep on the couch.

In the weeks to come, you’ve realized the blow-out of a breakup could’ve been handled so much differently, but Tom hasn’t seemed to cool down at all — he’s petty enough to unfollow you on all social media, and you figure it’s time to let the hatred be mutual. You don’t touch your imessages, however, letting the love in those texts linger for a little longer.

Before you know it, you’re throwing up into the toilet boil, coughing violently at the action and spitting the bitter taste as best you can. You clean up, and when you check your phone, a small notification from your period tracker app alerts you that this is the second period in a row that has gone by without a hello.

Worried, you call Aisha, your closest friend and confidant. She’s over in no time, bringing along her girlfriend while you rant on the phone about your worries. They stop at the drugstore on the way.

The cause of your problems is discovered that day, and you collapse on the bathroom floor in agony, hands wiping at your face — through all the anger and fear and worry, you still love Tom. So much that Aisha even attempts to call Tom. But, alas, it’s sent straight to voicemail, and you realize he might’ve gone to extreme extents in blocking everyone.

You’re stuck going to the ultrasound with two lesbians and a frail old cat. Aisha is as supportive as ever, but as the doctor explains the process of each option, you feel sicker and sicker about the idea of getting rid of the fetus. In the end, you choose to keep the child you’re bearing, even if your ex-lover isn’t even in the picture.

Inevitably, the months pass, and as baby Charlie is brought into the wonderful world, you realize life as a single mother isn’t as scary as you thought it would be. In the first few months of your pregnancy, you’d kept tabs on what film Tom was doing and which was coming out next, but after the hormones and cravings, you’d decided to let the past sizzle and fade out in the way it was meant to all along.

It’s been almost three years since that fateful breakup, and Charlie is just reaching two and a half years old. You’re still single, and you’re okay with that. Charlie is all you need, all you’ve ever wanted, and the most important thing in your life. He’s young, and school is still a couple years away, but you enjoy having the toddler by your side, walking hand in hand with you because you’re his guardian, his provider, his only parent. You make him your only priority, because you don’t want him to grow up without anyone to love, or anyone to love him.

It’s hard, though. It’s hard because he’s a constant reminder of what didn’t happen, a constant reminder of what went wrong and of what you no longer have. You miss Tom more than words can express, and Charlie’s mop of brown curls reminds you of all the moments you’d run your fingers through Tom’s hair. You reminisce more than you’d like to, about Tom and your past, and though Charlie is technically half of the Brit, he’s one hundred percent yours. Because you’re the only one here, and that’s alright.

“Mummy,” Charlie tugs on your shirt’s hem while you move the shopping cart forward through the aisle. “Can we get the goldfish with superheroes?”

You jutt your lip out in a smile, nodding happily. “Of course we can, bub.”

As you step forward, you pit stop in the aisle, nearly tripping on the cart. You make direct eye contact with the man you used to love with your entire heart. The man who walked out with your heart and never gave it back. He’s staring right back at you, curls looking as fluffy as ever, face still a soft glow. Your breath hitches, and it’s then that you realize Charlie is still talking.

“Mummy?” He asks, and it’s just loud enough for Tom to hear. Harry, who’s beside Tom with an arm full of crackers and chips. Tom moves forward a few steps, hastily in an attempt to get more information.

“Uh, hi,” His smile is tight lipped as he stands at the other end of your shopping cart. Charlie shies away from strangers, standing behind your leg and holding your shirt with his grubby hands.

“Hi,” you return his awkward, reserved demeanor.

“Mummy who’s this?”

“‘Mummy?’” Tom has a follow up question for everything, and you internally panic, unsure on how to approach this.

You’d spent so long deciding how you should tell Tom that he was a dad. You spent hours debating on if you should pick up the phone or drive over just to tell him a truth you’ve kept inside for so long. You’ve abandoned social media, only sharing aspects of your life you can afford to post. Charlie is only occasionally on your page, but it’s not like Tom would see that, not after all that’s happened.

Your mouth opens and closes while you debate on how to reply. You’re physically incapable of saying your response, and it makes you even more nervous. You’re nervous on how he might react, what he’ll say, but most importantly, if he’ll stay.

“Is this…?

“My kid…” You fill in. “I- I mean our… our kid.” You pull your bottom lip between your rows of teeth, and you watch as Tom’s face undergoes thousands of expressions all at once. He’s surprised, shocked, happy, afraid, uncertain. You want the world to swallow you whole, suck you up so you don’t have to go through any of this again. But you don’t. Instead, you hold Charlie’s hand a little tighter.

“Our kid?” He drops a can of soup and you flinch at the loud noise.

“Mummy, who’s that?”

“That’s…” You don’t know how to answer his question. Instead, you lean down to his level, comfortingly and gently. “He’s a man.”

“Who’s that man?”

“He’s… your daddy.”

“I thought… no daddy?”

You purse your lips and furrow your brows. Tom’s watching the entire encounter from his place, but after a few beats, he steps forward, entering your bubble. Charlie doesn’t cower away this time, but looks up in curiosity.

“Hi, Charlie,” Tom extends his hand, adjusting his jeans so he can lean down just as you are, kneeling beside the young boy.

You look down, avoiding your worries and Tom’s gaze. He’s tearing up, and you want to cry too. You’re in a fucking supermarket, for god’s sake. This wasn’t how you envisioned any of this planning out, and though you’re mentally kicking yourself for letting it happen this way, you can’t help but feel like maybe this was meant to be. Written in the stars or whatever the folks say — you’re just grateful Charlie has at least a sliver of hope for two parents. Not that you can’t handle it, because you can, but you know someone like Tom wouldn’t want to miss something as important as this.

“I’m To- I’m…” He swallows thickly, making brief eye contact with you before looking back at Charlie. “I’m your dad.”

“Do you love my mummy?” He’s not shameless, but he’s still that shy little boy. “My friend says daddy’s love mommy’s so you must love mine, right?”

Tom lets a tear fall while he exhales a chuckle. He swipes the drop with the tips of his fingers, and the hand gripping Charlie’s squeezes it a little tighter. A glance in your direction is all it takes for him to answer Charlie’s question. “Yeah, buddy. I do.”

want more? my masterlist.

taglist tingz :) 🏷️  want to join? fill out this form.

th + pp taglist: @spideyspeaches @strawberrytom (no smut) @turtletaylor98 @parkerpeterparker2004 @peterbenjiparker @kelieah​

permanent taglist: @mayrapreciado20​ @tomhollandlol @roseke​ @supremethunda​ @wonderfulfluffer​ @farfromtommy​ @mamaparker28​ (no smut/tw) @pxxerfect​ (no smut) @seutarose @pixiedustsupplyco​ @itssmadelyn​ @white-wolf1940​ @woopwoopwoop222 @chrisosterfield​ (no tw)

th taglist: @lmaotshollandd

[abstract-crossverse]

Hello! Can I request angst/fluff (or how to call it idk sorry,,,,) with Hank and his s/o, who was on a mission, but didn't return from it, because there was an explosion there, and everyone could think that they were killed. But the next day they come back all in cuts and some injuries, but alive!

You son of a bitch, I'm in/LH/hj

I see this prompt e v e r y w h e r e lol

Also, kind of long post so everything will be under the cut

2022 edit: format change, colored text and some edititing on reactions or speech due to imo out of characterness

==========================

That one explosion but S/O's alive prompt with Hank

Hank was sitting on the living room couch, watching whatever was left of some show with 2BDamned sitting on the single couch close by

Until Deimos practically flew downs the stairs, chanting "shit" and "fuck" over and over again until he collided with the wall

Hank and 2bd looked over, startled "Deimos? What's the problem?" 2bd asked "Y/N!..." He panted "Y/N IS NOT OKAY.."

Hank got up, rushing to Deimos, Hank put his hands on the hacker's shoulders "Deimos, spit it out, what happened to Y/n?" A hint of worry and desperation could be noticed in his voice

Deimos took a deep breath "t-there was an explosion where they were.. I only heard them scream and the connection cut- I-I can't reach them anymore!" Deimos said with tears pricking at his eyes from the stress and worry

Hank stayed quiet for a bit, but quickly rushed to the door "Wait! Hank where are you going?!" 2B yelled "I'm going to find them.." Hank left

He ran and ran..

Until he reached where you had your mission...

But he never found you...

He felt something inside of his chest hurt, as if it was being tore apart, he searched more frantically, desperate to find you

He begged for you not to be gone, he could lose you, he prayed, something he never did in his life, he really really hoped Maker would hear him for once and not do this to him

Tears formed in his eyes, masked by his goggles, he searched and searched, even the other three finally came by, Hank ordered them to search for you

All around the scene...

He breathed heavily as lifted scraps to look under, climbed the rest of the building to see if you happened to be there unconscious...

He screamed your name, anyone close enough to hear him could tell he was desperate, he called out for you, being the loudest he's ever been...

But you didn't come....

You didn't call back, or run into his arms again...

2B put a hand on Hank's shoulder, and shook his head, and for the first time in years.. Hank cried

He fell to his knees and silently sobbed, tears slipping through the bottom of his goggles, he couldn't keep it in anymore

He couldn't believe you were gone, he didn't WANT to believe, and for the next hours he didn't, his explanation was that, since they didn't find your corpse, it could mean you were still alive, he wanted to believe it so hard

He spent the rest of the day searching for you, asking all through Nevada if they've seen you in, even asking Tricky and refusing to fight him

But he never found you...

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

The next day, Hank was sitting on the kitchen drinking his 9th cup of coffee that morning, Sanford walked into the kitchen

His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at the depressing state of his friend, Sanford patted Hank's back "Hey big dude, you doing alright?"

No response form Hank, Sanford sighed and looked at the other 8 mugs across the table "did you even sleep?" Hank only shook his head slowly

".... They were important to all of us, I know-" Sanford was interrupted by the front door opening, Hank and Sanford looked at the entrance of the kitchen, it covered the front door so they couldn't see who it was

"... Did one of the others leave this morning?" Sanford asked, Hank shook his head, they got up and walked over, weapons at hand Incase it was some dumb Agent

cLANK

Their weapons fell to the ground when they saw you at the door, bleeding and using the couch as support to stay up

"hey you two!.." you wheezed "sorry if I gave you guys a scare, I was caught up on someth- uUgh!-" you were interrupted by Hank, who had launched himself on you and held you close

Sanford had a gigantic smile on his face and ran upstairs, yelling how you had come back, you chuckled painfully at Sanford's childness until you felt your shoulder soak

You noticed Hank was crying and shaking, guilt build up inside of you as you cooed sweet nothings to him

".... D-don't scared me like that again.... Where where you?" He whispered "I was coming home, I had to stop a bit because of the blood loss" you explained, you were also getting chased by some agents but you're not gonna tell him that

"... I thought I lost you ..." His grip tightned on you, you slowly cupped his cheek "you'll never lose me, love, nothing will ever take me away from you, I promise" you carefully brought his mask down

You both leaned in and kissed, he kissed you carefully and lovingly, you felt him smile into the kiss, he clearly missed your kisses

Once you two separated, the others came down as Hank put his mask up again

Deimos was cheering while 2B quickly came to check on you, all of them were worried for you, they helped you down to the Medbay where 2B patched you up

They all gave you a group hug and helped you to yours and Hank's shared room, soon leaving you and Hank alone

You were laying down on the bed while Hank was sitting up, you looked over at him, he was holding and staring at your hand, carefully brushing his thumb over your knuckles

You sighed and smiled, carefully sitting up, Hank took notice of this and tried laying you back down, saying how you needed to rest but you refused and sat up anyways

You carefully went to sit on his lap, he helped you and held you, confused on what you were doing, you only gave him a soft and tired smile as you took off his mask, goggles and bandana

You stared at him a bit, then gave him soft kisses all over his face, he smiled, red slowly forming on his cheeks, soon he buried his face on your neck and sighed

Taking in that you're okay, you're there with him

For now he just wants to hold you, being sure you're not going anywhere

He played with your hair, happy and relieved

You're not getting up too soon, but he'll be with you all the way

============================

Hope I didn't make this too dramatic, but I loved doing this one

I'm not too good on angst so I really tried to make this good

[kythed]

“teenage wasteland.” kuroo tetsurou x reader

4:08pm.

“yo,” kuroo says, opening the door quickly after you ring the bell, “you finally made it.” 

“what do you mean, finally?” you complain, kicking off your shoes and slipping inside. the dry heat of his family home’s living room assaults your bare face, a sharp contrast to the december frigidity outside. “you texted me like ten minutes ago.”

“felt like longer,” kuroo says with a crooked grin. “you want something to drink?” 

“water?”

“I kinda meant something stronger, but sure, water,” kuroo says, filling a glass at the kitchen sink. you furrow your brows.

“something stronger? I’m sorry, but last time I checked we were still underage,” you say, and kuroo laughs breathily — it’s almost a giggle, actually. for the first time since arriving, you notice an odd flush in his cheeks. “oh my god. are you drunk?”

“drunk?” kuroo gasps. “no, no. tipsy, yes. drunk, no.” 

“tetsurou,” you scold, reluctantly letting him pull you towards the hallway. “all those big, bad college boys can’t have been a very good influence on you.”

“I’ve had a stash of jack daniels hidden beneath my bed since sophomore year,” kuroo whispers conspiratorially. “those ‘big, bad college boys’ have nothing to do with it. speaking of which — you want some?” 

you shake your head vehemently and dig your heels into the carpet, realizing he’s trying to drag you into his bedroom. despite being kuroo tetsurou’s official best friend of a decade, you’ve never been inside his room before. you’ve never been inside any boy’s room before, actually — you’ve never been much of a rule breaker. 

(you suppose that’s why you and kuroo get along. you’re forever the straight-laced goody goody, and he’s forever the secretly bad, outwardly good honor roll kid.)

“I don’t drink,” you insist, and kuroo loops his arms around your neck. you stiffen. “and stop being so touchy. it’s freaking me out.”

“what?” kuroo says, feigning offense. “you don’t like my hugs?” 

“no!” you say, and he shoots you an exaggerated eye roll. “you’re being weird. I can probably count the number of times you’ve voluntarily hugged me on one hand.” 

kuroo ignores you, choosing to instead pick you up and toss you over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. 

“kuroo tetsurou, you’d better quit it before I call your mother!” you pound on his back, a little taken aback to feel his shoulder muscles rippling under your palms as he staunchly marches you into his room. “I do not want to enter your disgusting cave of a room, you teenage garbage troll!”

“getting real creative with the insults there,” kuroo laughs, setting you down and backing up against the door to block you from running out. “come onnnnn. I thought we could play a game of monopoly or something. listen to the radio. finish the bottle before my mom comes home and whips my hide.”

you sigh and perch your hands on your hips. “so that’s why you invited me over.”

“no, no,” kuroo protests, crouching to pull a clear bottle of amber colored liquid out from beneath his bed. “I also just vastly enjoy your company.”

“why not just throw it out?” you ask, gingerly sitting on the edge of the bed. 

kuroo’s room is a lot neater than you imagined it would be — navy bedspread tightly tucked in at the corners, vinyl floor completely clear save for a small rug. his desk is probably the messiest part of the entire room, holding an old, chunky desktop that’s covered in post-its with smudged, scribbled notes, ranging from “email prof. miyazawa about missing grade” to “buy mom flowers to apologize for broken mug.” 

there are a couple posters on the wall, too, one for the japanese national volleyball team, and one for some punk-looking band dressed in an overabundance of leather, ripped denim, and hair feathers. 

“this shit was expensive,” kuroo says, gesturing to the bottle before screwing the cap off and taking a long draught. your eyes widen as he drinks down a quarter of the remaining liquid, his adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow. “I can’t let it go to waste.”

“I think you’ve probably had enough of that,” you say, gently twisting it from his hands. kuroo smiles angelically before coming to tower over you. 

“if you’re not gonna drink it, I will,” he says, reaching out to grasp the bottle’s neck. you hold onto it stubbornly.

“you’re clearly wasted, tetsu,” you say. “just let me throw it away.” 

“I may have a small drinking problem,” kuroo says, “but I’m sober enough to know I’m not about to throw away the fifty bucks I spent on that. give it.” 

“no!” 

“yes.”

“nooooo!”

“yes!” 

kuroo tries to wrench the bottle from you, and you spend a solid thirty seconds wiggling in his grasp before finally pulling it away. in an impulsive attempt to keep kuroo from getting even drunker, you bring the rim of the bottle to your lips and chug the rest of the whiskey.

kuroo’s eyes widen, and he guffaws loudly. “that was a lot of alcohol just now.”

you nod, wincing at the acrid taste, unwilling to swallow — the liquid is still swishing in your cheeks. you move to go spit it out in kuroo’s sink, but he grabs your arm.

“do not spit that out,” he warns. “that’s over two hours’ worth of minimum wage salary. I don’t work twenty hours a week in the wendy’s drive-thru just for you to flush it down the drain.” 

“mmmm,” you protest, breathing through your nose. “hrghhhh mmm mm mhm.”

“I have no idea what you’re trying to say,” kuroo says, obviously trying to stifle his laughter. 

you gesture wildly to your face, and then to the empty bottle, and then back to your face. 

for a moment, kuroo wrinkles his nose, and then slowly smoothes out his expression. a small smile stretches across his lips, and he steps close to you. you’re acutely aware of your personal bubble being popped, as well of the fact that he smells strongly of old spice and mango body wash. 

“I’ll do it then.”

“mm?” you squeak in confusion when he takes your chin in one hand and guides your face close to his. you’re not sure if you’re smelling the alcohol on his breath or tasting it on our own tongue. you’ve never been this physically close to your best friend in your life, and you can firmly say you’re absolutely petrified. you shake your head vehemently as he slowly leans down, tilting his head. 

“calm down,” he says quietly, and in spite of yourself, you do. “I’m just taking a drink.” 

then he presses his mouth to yours, and you freeze. oh, shit. 

kuroo wedges his tongue between your lips, forcing them open, and then he sucks the whiskey from your mouth, one hand keeping your jaw open while the other snakes around your waist. your eyes widen just as his close, almost as if he’s enjoying the kiss. slowly, you close yours too, letting yourself melt into him as he keeps kissing you even after swallowing the liquid. 

it lasts for a good ten seconds before you reluctantly pull away, letting your hands rest on his shoulders. he’s smiling, evidently very pleased with himself. 

“what the hell was that?” you say breathlessly, searching his face. 

“I was thirsty,” kuroo says nonchalantly. “and a little drunk. and you’re very pretty, as far as best friends go.” 

you feel like you should be offended, yet you can’t quite bring yourself to be. you’re definitely flustered, though, and a little embarrassed. (okay, a lot embarrassed.)

“I think, um, I think I should go,” you say, breaking eye contact. kuroo raises a hand to stop you, but you brush him off, bounding out of the room to grab your bag and keys from the kitchen counter. “we can talk about this later, okay? you need to go take a nap or something.”

“no, hey, wait —”

but you’re already out the door and in the car, jamming the key into ignition. you just kissed your best friend. or did you? does that count as a kiss? or was that just kuroo being stupid? your mind spins with useless speculations on the drive home, and as you sprawl out on your bed for an hour afterwards. it’s not until later that evening that you check your phone, greeted by a handful of social media notifications… and a text from kuroo.

with shaking hands, you swipe it open, face immediately splitting into a grin.

kuroo: sorry about that

kuroo: ok, not really

kuroo: I’m not that sorry

kuroo: cuz you’re a good kisser

kuroo: a really good kisser

you: you too

you wait for a moment as the three little dots on kuroo’s side pop up.

kuroo: thanks

kuroo: I was still kind of stupid tho

kuroo: my b

you: you regret it?

your fingers shake in suspense as you await his answer, feeling all the world like a lovestruck fifteen year old. you’re a little disgusted to find yourself suddenly crushing on kuroo tetsurou of all people, but what can you say? maybe falling for your best friend is a little cliche. maybe it’s a little overdone. maybe the fact that you kissed him with a mouthful of whiskey belongs in a cheesy teen movie, but you can’t help but find yourself delighted that it happened. 

kuroo: nope. not at all.

kuroo: not at all.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Baby, It’s Cold...

Warnings: this fic includes dubious/nonconsent, fingering, lying, manipulation, and general Ransom naughtiness

This is explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: You go to meet your online admirer but not all is as it seems.

Note: Our Chris-mas fic is here! I tried to keep the holiday details as vague as possible and hope you all enjoy what I came up with. As a reminder, y’all chose Ransom Drysdale + Sugar Daddy + Silverfox (= yes please)

I hope y’all enjoy!

Let me know what you think! (Like, reblog, reply, leave some words, a gif, nonsensical emojis)

Your nerves wouldn't stop. It was the tap of your fingers, the urge to chew your thumb, and the way you shifted in your seat just when you got settled. The flight was long enough to calm down and definitely not long enough to prepare yourself. 

You scrolled through your phone, offline for the journey. You swiped through the photos saved in your gallery. Hugh had paid for the ticket. A gift for the holidays he said; his gift, he added, was you. It was cheesy but it made you smile. He always had a way of surprising you. One moment, he was stern and demanding, the next he was flirty and fun, and sometimes, he could be sappy. He was different than any man you’d met; well you hadn’t exactly met yet.

It had started on your Insta. You liked to post pictures of pretty things; flowers, birds, critters, and the odd monument. Sometimes, even, yourself. He messaged you about some photo of a vintage book. It was random and awkward. You weren’t quite sure how you managed to bring the quality to text but you did always find a way.

But it continued and you got to know him. He knew a lot about books; he said he worked in publishing. As a photography student, you weren’t as impressive. You assumed he was older; a few years, he said. Well, that wasn’t so bad. He also suggested you keep some prints; it could make for a good coffee table book. You liked hat he humoured you but you were like any other arts major; you were waiting for your green apron.

As they announced the landing over the speaker, you buckled in. You played with the locked buckle. You had lied to your mother. You told her you were staying on campus for the winter break. What would do if she knew if you were meeting a stranger? Huh, you were meeting a stranger and you had kept it all a secret. Your romcom had just become a horror in your mind.

Well, you had the app on the phone. The one that would send your location if you didn’t log in within the next eight hours. But it could be too late by then. Shit, this was stupid. So stupid. You could hide and tell him you missed your flight. Well, fuck, you’d texted him just before boarding.

As the plane descended you went through every worst case scenario; catfish, liar, murderer… Hugh was hot as fuck and you had to admit, a rich guy with eyes like his, was way out of your league. You bit your lip as you looked at the pic of him at the beach; was it the abs that made you so dumb or the smirk?

The large wheels rolled over the tarmac as the pilot steered past the other planes and into position. You waited as disembarkment began and the attendants reminded passengers to remain seated until told otherwise. You felt the wine in your stomach swish. Hugh had paid for first class; you had enjoyed the complimentary drinks a little too much. The first had been for courage, the second for foolishness.

Finally, it was time to get up. Time to face your naivety. Why did these things seem like a good idea until the last minute? Rather, why did you think they were? This was like that blind date in your freshman year that turned out to be a prank by your roommates. Sophomore year saw you relocated.

What if the same was going through Hugh’s head? What if he was disappointed? It was easy to seem cooler than you were behind a screen. It wasn’t exactly like you broadcasted the fact that you spent all your time in the library or the fact that your study group was the majority of your socialization. Well, maybe you’d both be let down and you could laugh about it together.

You grabbed your carry-on and followed the rest of the passengers down the ramp and into the tunnel. You felt like you were in a movie or a dream. It was surreal. Had you really flown all this way to meet this online pal? 

As you reached the escalators, you turned your phone off of airplane mode. There was a message waiting for you. ‘At the gate.’ It was all too real as you sent back an emoji and neared the belt to grab your bag. You extended the arm and rolled it behind you as you headed for the last barrier. You were waved through customs and met another set of escalators. You bounced your leg as you descended.

You got to the bottom and walked around as you searched those waiting around the gate. Blonde hair, you couldn’t miss it. Blue eyes, tall, broad shoulders… he was the type to stand out in the crowd. 

“Hey,” you felt a large hand on your back and another on the handle of your bag. “Right here.”

The deep voice was the same from your phone calls. You smiled and looked over as he took your bag entirely and wrapped his arm around you.

“I can’t believe you’re finally here.” You turned to him and his hand rested on your hip as he faced you.

The air went out of you and your lips parted. You blinked and sputtered. “H- Hi.” 

“You okay? How was the flight?” He asked.

You were in shock. Your entire body jittered and your breath was trapped in your chest. It was Hugh but he was about twenty years older than his photos. Most of his hair was silver, with only a few strands of blonde, and though he hadn’t aged poorly, the difference was stark. Handsome as he still was, he had lied.

“It was… fine.” You forced out. “I…” You shook your head and pouted as your thoughts raced, “Hugh, you’re… older than I expected.”

“Call me Ransom. Everybody does.” He leaned it, “Why don’t we talk about this in the car?”

You looked around. You couldn’t really just turn around and go home, could you? You lowered your chin and sucked in your lip as you thought. What else had he lied about?

“Sure,” you said thinly. “I…”

“Babe, it’s me,” he coaxed, “I’m exactly who I said I was. And you, you’re even more gorgeous in person.”

You glanced at him and nodded. You hooked your shoulder bag over your arm and he grabbed your hand as he pulled you with him. The wheels of your suitcase rolled loudly behind him as the buzz of the crowd drowned out your panicked mind. You let him guide you, in disbelief. You didn’t know what else to do.

You were outside as the haze cleared. You approached a car, sleek and sporty, though you were never good with types. Hugh, or Ransom, opened the trunk and dropped your bag inside. He went to the driver’s side and opened the door as you stared across at him. You mirrored him and lowered yourself into the passenger’s seat. The doors closed almost in unison and you stared through the windshield at the unfamiliar parking lot.

He cleared his throat and turned the engine. You snapped your belt into place as he shifted into gear. You flinched and crossed your arms. You peeked at him in the rearview and his hand crawled onto your thigh. His eyes met yours in the mirror and he smirked. You were paralysed as he steered with one hand and his fingers tapped against your jeans.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he said, “Or… happy holidays. Whatever’s politically correct.”

He laughed and you only managed to choke on your spit. You felt like you should be mad but did you have any right to be? He hadn’t exactly catfished you. Not completely. And he had paid for your ticket and from what you could tell, he was just as rich as he claimed. Yet, that wasn’t exactly why you’d come. Sure, it was all just in good fun, you didn’t expect a whirlwind romance, but it was still jarring.

“Why don’t you just relax?” he purred, “I know it wasn’t too long a flight but flying always takes it outta me. And you’ll need your energy. I have lots of surprises in store for you.”

You nodded and leaned against the door. You hugged yourself and lifted your leg over the other and Ransom’s hand slipped away. He seemed unbothered as he sat back in his seat and turned his attention to the road.

The radio flicked on and filled the tense silence. You clung to the unknown lyrics to keep from drowning in fear.

🎁

Despite your doubts, you couldn’t help but be astounded by Ransom’s house. Almost four years in a dormitory and the Holiday Inn was like a palace to you, but his place was even more than that. A modern façade with a blanket of store across the sprawling yards which seemed to have been perfectly laid to match the straight lines of the structure. 

You stayed in the car as Ransom climbed out and took your bag from the trunk. You jumped in your seat as he tapped on the window with his knuckle. You looked over at him and undid your belt. You got out, your bag dangling from your wrist, and he touched the small of your back again as he led you forward.

“We’ll have dinner and then you can open your gifts,” he said, “That’s when the fun will start.”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed as he unlocked the door with a code and ushered you in.

You watched him hang his jacket and reluctantly unzipped your own. You put your bag down but kept a hold of your phone.

“You’re nervous,” he intoned.

“Why did you send me those pics and not something more recent? You lied.” You said.

His mouth slanted and he raised his brows. “They were me. Not much of a lie.”

“Enough of one, don’t you think?”

He chuckled. “I think you at least owe me a little leeway. Considering.”

“Considering what? You offered to pay. Don’t hold that over me.”

“I’m not but… you’re young, you’re impulsive. I mean, you came all the way here and now what? You’re going to tuck tail and run home? Spend the last of that bursary money so you can hide?”

“Don’t patronize me,” you huffed as you stepped out of your boots.

“I’m not.” He said firmly. “I’m giving you advice and it’s hard to see when you’re young but we both know you’re smarter than your age. We both know what this is and me being older isn’t going to affect that.” His eyes roved over you, “Is it?”

You lowered your lashes and thought. You wetted your lips and looked down at your phone. You unlocked it and opened the app. You keyed in your password and turned off the alert. You’d come this far and you were fairly certain he wouldn’t murder you. Besides, your mother would kill you once she found out you’d come all this way.

“It’s just gonna take me a bit to get used to it,” you tucked your phone away, “But promise me, that’s it. The only lie.”

“Promise,” he said gently, “Now, dinner should be here soon so why don’t you get changed.”

“Changed?” You snorted, “What--”

“Up the stairs, the room at the end of the hall, there’s a red box on the bed. It should fit. If it doesn’t, I’m sure it’ll still look great on you.”

You smiled as your cheeks burned. He was older but he still had charm and had aged into his looks and not out of them. 

“Alright,” you said, “I… what’s for dinner?”

“Another surprise,” he replied as he neared and leaned in, “I’m more excited about dessert.” His breath tickled your cheek, his lips too, and you shivered. “Now go, we’ve both waited long enough for this.”

You drew away and turned to head up the stairs. He tapped your ass and you squeaked. You looked back over his shoulder and he winked. “Can’t help myself,” he raised his hands, “But I’ll try.”

You continued up the stairs and tried not to gape at what had to be expensive art. The furniture was no less extravagant and as you entered the room at the end of the hall, you closed the door and pulled out your phone. You typed in Ransom instead of Hugh Drysdale and pages of results popped up. Editor, Publisher, and Owner of Blood Like Wine Publishing. Jesus Christ, were you really that daft?

Well, he was famous enough to reassure you he wasn’t going to kill you. You tossed your phone on the bed beside the box and carefully untied the black ribbon around it. You shimmied the lid off and revealed the red velvet. You lifted it up, a short little piece trimmed with white fur. It was the most ridiculous thing you’d ever seen but scandalous nevertheless.

You stripped as your nerves only got worse. You slipped into the dress, it was tight around your chest and the short skirt had a slit along the thigh. You wanted to laugh at yourself. There was a pair of heels at the foot of the bed and you sat to slip on the stilettos. You stood and wobbled. You felt so dumb but a glance in the mirrored door of the closet gave you pause. Not bad.

You slowly made your way down the stairs. You held tight to the railing and as you came to the bottom, you looked around at the airy halls. You wandered into the next room and back to the kitchen. You stopped in the doorway as Ransom looked up from the counter. He carefully plated the food from the containers surrounded by paper bags. Expensive, boujie take out.

“The other way,” he smiled, “Past the stairs. I’ll be in shortly.”

“Oh, okay,” you spun and caught yourself on the wall. 

You found your way to the room across the hall. There was an artificial fireplace in the wall burning and a low table with two cushions planted deliberately on the floor. There was a bucket with ice and champagne in it and two glasses waiting. You crossed to it and touched the petals of the stemmed roses in the tall crystal vase.

You turned as you heard footsteps. Ransom entered with two plates. He passed you and set them down on the low table. He spun back to you and took in every inch of you. “Wow, you look… great.”

“Thank you,” you shied away and he caught your hands. He pulled you close as the candlelight gleamed along his silver hair.

“Come here,” his hand grazed your arm and he caught your chin, “Amazing.”

He brushed his lips against yours and pressed them more firmly. You let him as you heart hammered and he pulled away as he nibbled your bottom lip.

“Let’s eat,” he breathed. “Before it gets cold.”

You followed him to the table and sat on the cushion. It was difficult as your skirt rode up and you bent your legs beside you awkwardly as Ransom popped the cork. He poured the wine and you sipped at the foam. You could still feel the glow of the grigio you’d downed on the plane.

“So, did you bring your camera? Tomorrow we might go out and you can get some photos. It’s beautiful in the winter. Cold but makes warming up all the better.”

“Yeah…” You took a bite of the salad. “So, why didn’t you tell me who you were? If your age doesn’t matter, then--”

“You didn’t ask me for money. Not even when I mentioned it. Most women, I tell them who I am, they google me, and they do a poor job of tiptoeing around my checkbook.” He shrugged. “And I like you. I wanted to get to know you without everything else.”

“Get to know me?” You scoffed. “That’s what you call it?”

“My intentions were innocent. At first. I thought your pictures might make a good book and then I found one of you. Business isn’t everything.”

“Oh,” you fluttered your lashes, “It’s not?”

His hand snaked over to your thigh and he squeezed. He played with the fur along your skirt.

“I have enough money.” He said, “What I want isn’t so simple.”

🎁

You finished dinner and washed it down with the champagne as Ransom cleared the plates. As came back, you sat on your knees and watched him cross the room. There was a table stacked with presents in the corner. You only just noticed it as he looked it over and picked out one wrapped in gold paper.

He neared and held it out to you. You took it and ran your finger over the edge. “Your gift is in my bag,” you tried to stand and he waved you off.

“Later,” he said, “Open it.”

You slid your finger under a fold and tore. You slowly unwrapped the box; black and shiny. You crumpled the paper and dropped it on the table. You wiggled the lid off a revealed a pair of black furry cuffs. You giggled.

“Thanks,” you looked up at him.

“Stand up,” he said.

“W-Why?” You tilted your head.

“You gotta try them on,” he grinned, “Come on. Just a little bit of fun.”

“I don’t know, I never--”

“I know you didn’t come here just for steak so come on, get up.” He demanded, “And turn around.”

You bit down as you stared up at him. You wanted to laugh but the lines in his forehead warned you he was serious. He bent and took the cuffs from you and set the box aside. You stood, numb and shaky. You didn’t believe it. He wasn’t going to--

He spun you around and swept your arms behind you. You tried to pull away as he caught your left wrist in a cuff and quickly hooked the other. They closed tight around your wrists and he tugged on the link as if to test them.

You stared at the artificial flames licking at the glass. He cupped your ass and dragged his hands around to grip your hips.

“They look nice,” he purred, “Oh, baby.”

He bent and nuzzled your neck as he brought his arms around you and kneaded your tits. He pushed them up as he nibbled at your skin.

“These… are perfect,” he kissed you and teased your flesh with his teeth. “Fuck.”

He pulled down the top of your dress and bared your chest. You wriggled and he hugged your waist he kept you close.

“What are you doing, baby? Where are you going to go?” He tweaked your nipple, “Dressed like a little slut.”

“Hey,” you gasped and he retracted his hand to smack your ass.

He hushed you as his fingers crept down your thigh and he rolled up your skirt an inch at a time. “What are these?” He snapped your panties, “You don’t need those.” He pulled them below your ass and they fell to your ankles. “Let me show you what an old man does better than any kid.”

He reached around you and tickled your pelvis. He raised his head and inhaled the scent of your scalp as his hot breath glossed over your head.

“Don’t be shy now… or would you feel better with a camera?” He taunted. “Hmmm?”

“Hu--Ransom,” you uttered.

“Come on,” he forced his hand between your legs and flicked between your folds. “What did you think this was? How long did you think I’d wait?”

“No, but--” You gasped as he toyed with your clit, “Ransom.”

“Say it again,” he swirled his fingers. 

You gulped and moaned as he rubbed harder. Your legs quaked around his hand as he slid his fingers further back. You felt your arousal slicken as he spread it over your cunt and poked around your entrance. He slid a finger inside of you as he wiggled his crotch against your hands.

“Is this what you came for? Or did you want all of me?” He pushed another finger in. “You want me inside you, baby? Stretching you?”

You groaned as he curled his fingers and pressed the hell of his hand to your clit. He rocked his hand and cried out. Your legs cramped as your feet curled in the high stilettos.

“It doesn’t really matter what you came for,” he pushed on your shoulder until you bent forward. He caught the middle of the cuffs and held you like that. “I’m gonna get what I want.”

You closed your eyes and whined as he pulled his fingers out of you. You quivered and he spanked you before he withdrew his hand entirely. You felt him fumbling behind you as you shook your head. As you had been since you met him, you were off-balance. You couldn’t decide if what he wanted was what you wanted too.

You felt a prod along your ass. He brushed his tip down your cheek and poked between your legs. He wetted himself on your folds and pushed along your entrance. Slowly, he slid into you, grunting as he sank past his tip. Deeper and deeper until you threw your head up and moaned. He filled you completely; painfully and delightfully.

“Yeah, you want me.” He hissed as he thrust and jerked your body. “You want to be mine, don’t you?”

You hummed as he moved against you, your shoulders straining as he tugged on the cuffs.

“Say it. Say you want to be mine.”

“Ah,” you moaned, “I want-- to-- I-- I’m yours.”

“You’re mine, baby,” he snarled, “All mine. Aren’t you?”

“Y-y-yes,” your eyes rolled back as he sped up.

He rammed into you so hard your legs buckled. He growled and followed you down. He bent you over the table as swept the bucket and vase out of the way. He got to his knees as he pinned you over the top and crushed your hips against the edge. Your cheek was hot against the cool table as he jolted you.

“Mine,” he grunted, “Baby, all mine…”

He rutted into you as his voice mingled with yours. You whimpered as your legs tingled and your core bloomed. You let out a feral whine as you came, convulsing beneath him as he gripped the table above your shoulder. 

“You want me.” He rasped, “You want me to cum in you.”

“I-I-I…” You twisted your hands as you struggled to think; struggled to do more than murmur wildly.

“Fuck.” He swore and you felt him burst. 

He slowed as he slapped the table and when he stilled, he held himself over you and his breath sent a shudder through you. He sat back on his knees and slid out of you. His cum spilled down your thigh and you slumped down against him. He pinched the velvet bunched around our waist.

“You got more gifts to open, baby,” he slapped your ass as he stood, “You think you can keep up with an old man like me?”