#unwilling to think about what had just happened

[missvelvetsstuff]

A snippet from something I'm tossing about in my head. Anyone interested?

No Benefits

Bucky x reader

Y/N opened her eyes to bright light and a bedroom that wasn't hers. The pounding in her head a reminder of how much she drank last night. She looked around and realized it was Bucky's room, where she spent so much of her time. Suddenly, she realized that she was naked and her stomach dropped. She had hazy memories of shots and kisses that turned into more. She smiled even though her head hurt, she had been crushing on Bucky since the day they met and was amazed that he actually wanted her too.

She reached over to find his side of the bed was cool but figured he must have gone on his morning run with Steve and Sam. She sat up and saw a bottle of water next to some pain killers, which she downed, grateful that Bucky was so thoughtful. Drinking the entire bottle of water she realized she really needed to pee. Standing slowly so as not to irritate her headache she grabbed one of Bucky's t-shirts to cover herself and went to relieve herself. When she was done she went back to sit up in bed and check her emails for today's agenda.

When she was responding to a message from Maria Hill the suite door opened and Bucky came in, sweaty and gorgeous. He saw her curled up on his bed and smiling up at him.

"Morning Buck. Good run?"

He nodded and smirked "Yeah, Sam whined at us to wait up but we just lapped him until he shut up"

"Sounds fun. Since it's Sunday and nothing is scheduled, why don't you take a shower and come back to bed?"

Bucky felt his heart stop "Look, Cookie, about last night. You know you're one of my best friends and I love you but I don't feel comfortable getting into a real relationship right now. I still have so much work to do on myself. Last night was great and I was thinking we could have one of those friends with extras, or whatever it's called. You know, to blow off steam."

Her stomach dropped and she felt her eyes filling up "You mean friends with benefits?"

He nodded enthusiastically "Yeah, that's it." he smiled hopefully.

Y/N was quiet for a minute before responding, was it worth the almost guaranteed heartbreak to have more nights like last night? She shook her head, unwilling to take that risk again.

"I'm sorry Buck but I can't do that. I get attached and end up heartbroken. I can't sleep with people that I don't have romantic feelings for."

His eyes grew wide "Wait, that means you have feelings...." He trailed off.

She nodded whispering "Yeah, I do."

Bucky's face dropped "Shit, I'm sorry. I thought we were on the same page last night. I don't know what to say. I mean, I might develop feelings over time but I don't know. I don't want to make any promises, you know?"

She swallowed the sob that tried to escape "You don't have to say anything, we can just pretend this never happened. Ok?"

She got up from the bed, clutching the sheet to her and desperately searching for her dress from last night.

He nodded but wasn't feeling too sure of that, he could hear her heart speed up and see her hands shaking "Yeah, sure, nothing has to change."

She smiled at him sadly, tears escaping "I uh I just remembered some paperwork I needed to finish up. I'll catch you later."

"Wait doll. I-"

"Don't worry it's fine." She cleared her throat "I could use a little space and just have work to do." She kissed him on the cheek before rushing out.

Bucky stood there, not sure how to proceed. He didn't want to lose his friend but really didn't feel like he could handle a relationship now. The stress relief from the great sex they had was something he could handle and he did have feelings for her, since the day he arrived at the compound but he knew she deserved a better man than him.

***********************************************

Should I keep going?

Masterlist

[backjustforberena]

Life In The Freezer

[inkskinned]

what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.

[writersdrug]

Konig x Reader: Fucking You to Sleep

All credit goes to @legitchase for this lovely idea! I had so much fun writing this, please send me requests if yall want to see more!!!

Summary: from @legitchase

"Ok ok hear me out new COD MEN idea

You and your cod man, you two came from a mission he is still sort of energetic while you are really exhausted.

As you two lay in bed he softly grinds against your ass so you gave him permission to fuck into you softly as you went to sleep, making little moans in you sleep as you man makes you feel so great while drifting off to sleep"

Warnings: smut, somewhat somnophilia but consensual, fingering, slight edging, p in v, size kink, stomach bulge, google-translate German, writer never played COD :(

Konig opened the door to your shared room, stretching his limbs and sighing. "Scheiße, it's good to be back." he strode inside, heading straight to the small coffee pot the both of you had stolen from the mess hall. He started making coffee, stretching out his left hip, then his right.

You trudged into the room, bags under your eyes, muscles sore, and shoulders slumped. Your feet dragged underneath you as you closed the door behind you. Tired was an understatement - you were exhausted to the point that you were perfectly content to pass out on the cold ground and call it a night.

The mission had gone smoothly, almost as perfect as one could ask for. Konig had been positioned near the outskirts of the field, obediently waiting for the hostages to be delivered to the pick up point. You, on the other hand, had been involved in clearing the way to the hostages, as well as the path to Konig's group. You had shot, stabbed, kicked, and punched so many enemy soldiers, sometimes fighting two at once. Your mind was overworked as well as your body, and you had a few sore spots from the occasional soldier that had landed a hit on you. You never got the chance to sleep on the way back - and your body was about to make that happen, whether you were in a bed or standing up.

Konig pulled off his sniper hood, watching with a smile as you dragged yourself to the bed and flopped onto it. He chuckled. "Schatz, aren't you ecstatic? You did a great job out there!"

"M-hmph..." you muttered, your face smushed into the pillows. You sank your muscles into the mattress, groaning in both relief and pain. If only KorTac hadn't deemed the massage therapist unnecessary...

You heard the coffee dripping into the pot, followed by Konig's heavy footsteps. He crouched down, gently turning your head so he could look at your face. You kept your eyes closed.

"Engel, are you tired?" he asked sarcastically, caressing the side of your face. His head was slightly tilted to match your eye level.

You huffed sarcastically. "Just a 'lil bit." you mumbled. You opened your eyes, meeting Konig's piercing blue ones. He had a small pout on his lips.

He ran his large hand down your shoulders, squeezing the muscle gently. You whined squeezed your eyes shut at the painful relief, furring your brow as he kneaded away. He moved down to your arm, skillfully massaging it with his calloused hands. He landed on your hand, taking it between both of his and flexing your fingers, rubbing each knuckle tenderly. You hummed in appreciation.

You opened your eyes again, noticing Konig's pupils had widened the slightest bit. Oh no... nope, nope nope. You thought. You were WAY too tired to give him what he needed right now. Not that you were ever unwilling to be his fuck toy when he wanted it - you just didn't know if you could stay awake for it.

"So schön, meine Liebe..." So beautiful, my love... He muttered. You felt his breath on your face as he planted a kiss to your forehead.

"You think this is beautiful?" You asked with a smirk. "You're a simple man, Konig." You smushed your face back into the pillow, ignoring the desperation in his eyes.

"Why don't you go get a shower, hmm?" He said, rubbing the palm of your hand. "I can grab us food from the mess hall - you can stay here and unwind."

You hummed and nodded in response. Konig pulled your hips to sit you upright, kneeling himself between your legs. Your head rolled to the side, unable to even hold it upright for long from the soreness. Konig gazed up at you lustfully. You pretended to ignore it and yawned instead.

He squeezed your hips once before moving away, letting you stand up. "I'll have some coffee first, then I'll go. You wash up."

You slipped off your boots and haphazardly dropped them by the edge of the bed. As you made your way to the bathroom, you heard Konig scoff, as he moved your shoes and placed them next to his, perfectly aligned and neat. You chuckled.

-----

The entire bathroom was filled with steam. You had the water as hot as it could possibly be. It beat fiercely against your muscles - exactly what you needed. Your braced your hands against the wall in front of you, savoring every sting and ache of the hot water against your skin. You didn't even have the energy to actually bathe yourself at the moment. You would attempt that in a little bit. For now, you soaked up the heat from the shower, letting it seep into your bones.

You heard the bathroom door creak open, then it shut. Konig hummed as he moved on the other side of the curtain. You assumed he just needed something and would leave in a moment. He rustled around for a bit, the sound of fabric hitting the ground, followed by his feet quietly slapping against the tile floor.

Moments later, he threw the shower curtain back.

"Holy shit!!" you exclaimed, jumping further into the shower, startled. "The hell - I thought you went to the mess hall?!"

Konig casually stepped into the shower with you, his eyes flickering over your naked body. "I was going to, but I probably need a shower too." He closed the curtain behind him. "Why waste the water, since you're getting one already?" He smirked mischievously.

"Konig, there's hardly any room in here for both of us." You stated. You were crammed against the shower wall, purposefully avoiding looking at his obvious hard-on. It rested against your stomach as he stared down at you, eyes half-lidded in lust. Your hands rested on his chest as you tried to create space between the two of you, although you didn't mind his muscular body being pressed into yours.

He ignored your protest. "Liebling, you haven't even bathed yourself." He said, running his hands down your back. "Let me help you, bitte? You just relax, I'll wash you."

You wanted to say no, since you knew where it would lead, and you were too drained to even think of it. But it was hard to deny Konig, especially as he ran his soap-lathered hands over your arms, delicately massaging the muscles under your skin. You let out a long sigh, leaning into his touch as he masterfully worked the knots out of your shoulders, your flanks, and then your hips, lingering there a while longer. His hands combined with the hot water and the smell of the soap... your mind was practically numb under his touch. You felt yourself relax more and more as he worked the tension from your body.

Konig stared down at you, pupils blown wide. You were the kind of person to get all shy when you were naked, even though the two of you had been together for a while now. But here, in your tired state, you wordlessly submitted to him. You had come back from the mission as a hard, cracked, and dry wad of clay, and Konig was using his large hands and the hot water to mold you into what he wanted. His cock was painfully hard at the thought of you, too tired to fully push him away from you, forced to give in to his advances as he fucked you in the shower wall. You're muscles were too sore for you to fight back - he would slam himself into you until you passed out from exhaustion, your overworked little body trembling and twitching as he held you against the tiles. Your little throat would barely be able to whimper his name out.

Just the thought of him fucking you to sleep was making precum drip from his cock. It rested heavily against your back as he was running his hands down lower, squeezing out the tension from your muscles. You involuntarily let out a soft moan - the feeling of his hands was soothing, comforting... and also getting you aroused. As tired as you were, every grip from his fingers sent pleasure shooting from your core to your chest. You felt his cock twitch at your moan.

You lazily tilted your head back against his chest, looking at him through your lashes with a soft smile. He smiled back, desire settling in his lower abdomen. He leaned down and kissed the crown of your head. Slowly, he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer against his chest.

"Mein süßes mädchen..." My sweet girl... whispered, lips pressed to your head. "How about I make you feel good, yes?" His free arm climbed up your abdomen until it reached your breasts, grabbing the left one and massaging it between his fingers. "You did so well earlier - I want to reward you for it." He rolled your nipple between his fingers and tugged at it.

You arched your back against him, mewling and whining. His fingers were massaging the flesh of your stomach and pinching and pulling at your nipple... it felt so good, you would have let him take you then and there. But the more aroused you felt, the more you noticed how tired you were. "Konig, baby, can - can we please do this in the m-morning?" You whimpered out.

Konig groaned, half aroused, half frustrated. "I promise I can be gentle, schatz. I won't make you cum too much." He started grinding his cock along your ass, his arm squeezing tightly around your waist. His dick throbbed, aching to feel your cunt squeezing him tight.

You exhaled a shaky breath, before gathering your resolve and turning to face him. He let out a soft moan as your skin dragged along his cock as you spun. He gripped your shoulders tightly as you looked him in his eyes.

"Tomorrow morning, love." You gently held his face between your hands, smiling. "I promise. I'm just too tired tonight." You pulled his head down to plant a long kiss on his lips. He groaned against your mouth, before a sigh escaped through his nose.

He pulled back, caressing your face with his thumb. "Alright. Tomorrow then. Let's get you cleaned for now, and then some dinner, yes?"

The both of you continued to shower, Konig insisting on washing your hair. You stood with your eyes closed, basking in the feeling of his fingers massaging your scalp. You were starting to get frustrated yourself, between feeling both aroused and sleepy. But you focused on the feeling of his hands on your hair and the water hitting your skin (or whatever skin it could reach - Konig took up most of the stream).

Konig did his best to focus on washing your hair and body. His eyes kept wandering over your silhouette from above, cock throbbing as he watched the water running down your breasts, to your pussy, and then trailing off down your thighs. He pushed his desires away, concentrating on taking care of you.

-----

After your shower, Konig had left to grab some food, while you dried your hair and slipped into your night clothes - which consisted of your underwear and one of Konig's army-green t shirts. When he returned with some protein bars and bananas (the mess hall's only options since it was after hours), he faltered as he caught a glimpse of you. You were seated at the edge of the bed, practically swallowed in his shirt, nipples threatening to poke holes in it. You smiled gratefully at him. Despite having his sniper hood back on, you could see the tinge of pink in his face, as he quickly looked away.

The two of you ate your food, Konig splayed out in a chair across the room, sniper hood on the desk next to him, you still sitting on the edge of the bed. You talked about the mission, it's faults and it's victories, Konig saying that he would have preferred that you were the one to stay at the pick up point, and he should have gone to retrieve the hostages.

He always did that - he would complain after the fact that your team's captain would consistently put you in the more dangerous situations, rather than having you on the safer end of things. Konig would have even preferred if he could have been there with you, but that's never how it was. Either you were both in dangerous situations on opposite sides of the field, or it was just you, and he was forced to wait on the sidelines, far away from the danger. He never doubted your skill, and he would never try to hold you back. But he wished that you could be closer to him than the danger. You found it sweet, but preferred it this way. Better you close to the danger than Konig - you would never live if something had happened to him.

And if something happened to you, neither could he.

After dinner, Konig changed into sweatpants, opting to sleep shirtless. ("You're wearing my shirt, after all.") You climbed onto the bed, feeling Konig settle in behind you, wrapping a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You held it tightly and intertwined your legs with his. His warm breath fell against the back of your head as he nuzzled into your hair, which still smelled like your shampoo.

You felt safe. Finally home, finally in your bed, with your Konig. His hold on your body felt protective, something you didn't have the luxury of feeling for the entire mission. You were finally able to relax. You sighed contentedly... the cool sheets, Konig's strong arms, the rise and fall of his chest, the fact that you could sleep in tomorrow morning... It soothed you, and you let the wave of sleep slowly begin to pull you under, bit by bit.

Konig let out the smallest, quietest whine. He knew you were tired. He didn't want to disturb you. But he was still hard from earlier. His cock was so swollen and painful, he was going insane. He couldn't hold himself back any longer, especially not with your pussy just a few pieces of fabric away. He pawed at the flesh of your abdomen, using his other hand to rub down your thigh. Slowly, he began pushing his clothed cock against your ass.

You stirred; you had been on the brink of sleep, when you felt Konig kneading your stomach and grinding against you. You recognized the heat pooling in your pelvis, letting out a small whimper. "Konig, please..." you begged - not entirely sure if it was for him to stop, or to move faster.

"I'm sorry, prinzessin..." he said desperately... "I can't help it, I... mph, I'm going insane... I need to feel you around me, please?" He was now pathetically humping your ass, already pulling down his sweats until he was just in his boxers. You felt his pulsing, warm cock pressed up against you. "Bitte, liebe..." he began kissing your neck, right in your sweet spot.

You moaned lazily. "I'm just too tired, I'm sorry-"

"Schatz, you don't need to do anything." he cut you off with desperation in his voice. "Let me take care of you, bitte... you don't have to lift a finger. I just need to be inside of you right now... please, please..."

His hands groping your waist, his breath on your neck, his lips sucking at your skin... and his pathetic begging, won over your better judgement. You knew you wouldn't be able to hold him off in your current state, and he would end up taking what he wanted anyways. And despite being so tired, you were still aroused... Would you really be able to fall asleep if you deprived yourself? "Alright, love."

"You sure?" he answered immediately, whining needily.

"I'm sure."

And that was all he needed. Placing a kiss to the back of your head, Konig carefully removed your panties, letting them hang off of one of your ankles. With one hand, he pulled the waistband of his boxers down, freeing his cock and letting it slap against your ass. He moved his hand from your stomach down to your pussy, prodding at your clit with two fingers. You rubbed your thighs together, feeling a mix of soreness and wetness, as he rubbed your swollen bundle of nerves between his fingertips.

"So fucking wet for me..." he groaned in your ear, "... even when you're tired, you're so needy." He slipped a finger past your clit, running it along your lips. You didn't have the energy to buck against him - instead, you tilted your hips back, trying to angle yourself to feel as much pleasure as possible. He teased you, prodding the tip of his finger just past your lips, before pulling it back. You whined, your juices spilling over his hand as your arousal grew even more.

"Please, Konig..." you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. Despite the desire settling in your stomach, you could feel yourself being pulled back into sleep. Your moans were lazy and low, and your body was limp in his arms.

"I know, love, I know..." he whispered in your ear. He brought his hand to his mouth and licked your wetness that coated his fingers. He groaned, savoring the taste, his erection twitching painfully. "I'm going to fuck you to sleep, liebling. You deserve it, you worked so hard... Just let me take care of you, alright?" He dipped his fingers back down to your pussy, rubbing your clit in slow circles with the pad of this thumb.

You couldn't answer him. Instead, weak, soft whimpers fell from your lips, followed by the quiet clicking sounds of his fingers teasing your cunt, finally dipping inside. A pang of pleasure shot from your core, and your walls instinctively clenched around him, sucking him deeper into you. You pathetically mumbled in pleasure as he slowly dragged his fingers in, and out, and in, and out...

Konig kissed the side of your neck as your moans enticed him, making his length drip with precum as he continued to grind against your ass. He felt your walls tightening around his fingers, greedily sucking on him. He spread his fingers and pushed them against your walls, curving one of them just right to hit your sweet spot. You whimpered and rocked your hips lazily, trying to push him deeper into you.

"Hmm, look at you..." he whispered low in your ear, followed by a soft kiss on your temple. "I thought you were sleepy, mein engel..." he teased. You whined, barely audible, as more and more of your juices dripped onto his palm. "So helpless, so fucking small in my hands..." he pumped his fingers faster, flicking his thumb back and forth over your clit.

You felt the familiar coil tightening in your lower abdomen, and at the same time, you knew you were drifting off to sleep. You moaned as he continued to finger-fuck your cunt, unable to produce more than a high-pitched cry. Your thighs weakly rubbed together as your impending orgasm built in your core.

"Konig, please, bitte, bitte, bitte..." you babbled quietly, your consciousness drifting as your walls began fluttering around his fingers.

Your pleading in German stirred a fire in Konig's abdomen. He growled low, "Gutes verdammtes mädchen, das ist es..." Good fucking girl, that's it... He flicked your clit harder, relishing in the small, high whimpers that sent an electric shock through his core. He snaked his other hand under your side, coming around to gently squeeze at your throat. "Komm für mich, meine müde Prinzessin..." Cum for me, my tired princess... he grunted as he drove his digits into your pussy, curling them to prod against your g-spot. "That's it... yes, yes, yes..."

Your hips instinctively rocked against his fingers, mind going numb as your orgasm ripped through your body. Your one hand grabbed the one of Konig's that was deep in your cunt, pawing helplessly at his forearm. Your legs began to shake as the pleasure overtook you, making you mewl and whine. Your slick flowed freely over his fingers and into his palm, and you heard him growl and felt his cock twitch against your ass. You closed your heavy eyelids, his hand still firm around your throat, feeling yourself drift into the ecstasy...

Konig continued to flick your clit, hoping to overstimulate you for a while longer, until he felt your body go limp in his arms. Your legs were still shaking from your orgasm, but the rest of your muscles were slack against him. He smiled proudly to himself, pulling his fingers out of you slowly. He felt your walls clench one more time around him, as if they didn't want to let him go. He brought his fingers up and once more licked your cum off of his hand, making sure none of it was wasted. He softly moaned at your taste.

"Oh, liebling..." he said lowly, "I'm not finished with you yet." He used his wet hand to pump himself a few times - his cock ached under his touch, red and hot and desperately needing relief. "I said I was going to fuck you, and you're going to take every inch..." he pulled himself down the bed slightly, so that your dripping pussy was positioned right above his swollen member. "... even in your dreams."

With both hands on your hips, he slowly guided himself into your cunt. He stopped halfway, hearing you whimper in your sleep, your brow furrowed in pleasure. Your eyes remained closed, but your mouth parted slightly, sucking in a short breath.

Konig absentmindedly shushed you, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. "I know, schatz..." he said shakily, "I know, I know... you can take it, you're such a good girl, I know you can." He groaned lazily, feeling your walls stretch slightly around him, and he pushed the rest of his length into your cunt. His exhale caught in his throat, and his fingers gripped the flesh at your hips, sure to leave marks in the morning.

Your hips bucked slightly as your pussy squelched, trying to make room for all of him as Konig was balls deep inside of you. He panted, sweat covering his entire body. Your wetness felt so good as he twitched inside of you. Slowly, as he was trying to be considerate of your sleeping form, he ground his hips into you. He moved one hand to the front of your abdomen, feeling around until he found the buldge pressing forward in your stomach. He growled when he touched it, imagining his big cock barely fitting into your tight cunt. He pressed his hand down onto the bump, and your body reacted, shivering around him.

He stuttered in pleasure, biting his lip to keep his moans at a low volume. The quiet sounds of his balls slapping against your pussy echoed through the room, accompanied by his rhythmic grunting and your weak whimpers. His cock throbbed inside of you, sending jolts of pleasure through his lower abdomen with each thrust. His face was flushed and his pupils were blown wide as he huffed, burying his face into the crook of your neck, mumbling sweet nothings in German into your ear.

He felt himself teetering closer to his orgasm - the sounds of him fucking you to sleep, the feeling of the mixed juices coating his cock and his thighs, your high whines and mewls, the lingering taste of your cum on his tongue... He was so close to the edge, desperately trying to hold himself back as to not disturb you, and to last a few moments longer...

"I'm gonna fucking breed you, liebe..." he mumbled, whimpering as his orgasm approached quickly. "... gonna fucking fill you up, and there's not a damn thing you can do... Scheiße, so fucking tight... You take my cock so well, meine gute kleine Schlampe..." My good little slut... He felt your walls clenching rhythmically around his member, and your whimpers got higher and higher, your back arching against his as a second orgasm overcame you.

He felt his cock twitching, and a cord in his lower abdomen snapped. "Fuuuck, liebe, take it, take it, fucking take it, Scheiße..."

His thrusts became shallow and sloppy - he sank his teeth into your neck as an attempt to quiet his grunts and whimpers as he pounded into you, his cum spurting through his cock, filling up your cunt. "Mph, scheisse!" he whined into your neck. He rode out his orgasm, the room filling with sloppy squelching as his cum seeped out of you, dripping onto his thighs and the sheets.

He felt your body relax once more, his own muscles going limp around you. He lazily ground his hips into your ass, his cock still embedded in your cunt, now going soft. He gently thumbed his cum back into your pussy, pushing it in between his member and your lips. He sighed contentedly, wrapping both of his arms around your waist and pulling you closer onto him. He nestled his face in the crook of your neck, feeling the layer of sweat that covered you both.

"Du bist mein perfektes Mädchen..." You are my perfect girl... he mumbled into your ear, planting a kiss on the top of it. You stirred gently, your hips briefly moving away from his. He gently held you down on his cock. "No, schatz..." he hummed, eyes closing, "... I want to stay in this warm, sweet pussy of yours... oh, verdammt, I've missed you... I'll never let you go for so long again..."

He placed one last kiss to your neck, before hugging you tighter, his length still buried deep inside you. As he drifted off to sleep, he had one last thought. "Don't think I forgot your promise for tomorrow morning, liebling..."

[lunargrapejuice]

diluc ragnvindr x fem!reader

picking you up and putting you somewhere safe

“oh, no thank you.”

you had noticed the man's eyes on you from the moment you walked into the bar and it made you think you should have worn something other than a knee length dress that clung to your body. while you had wished for one particular man to see you in it, the very one you were waiting for, this drunkard was not him. 

when he moved closer, not seeming to notice or care about the distance you continued to put between you until you were at the edge of the bar and he asked to buy you a drink while he eyed you up and down, you felt exposed, uncomfortable, but thankful you had chosen the side of the bar that would not have cornered you.

you wondered if charles was in the back room and would mind if you waited there for diluc. surely he would understand once he saw this man and how unwilling he was to leave you alone, he’d probably ask him to leave entirely, but when you eagerly searched around for his familiar face in the busy tavern you could’t find him at all.

“aw, c’mon pretty. ‘s just a drink,” his words were slurred, the smell of alcohol on his breath making you nauseous when he leans in close to you, clumsy and uncaring of your personal space. “i don’ bite.” 

“i said no,” you’re firmer, colder, this time when pull back, trying to create space between you and slow your heart rate that had become frantic, the polite smile you offered on your first decline nowhere to be seen. “please leave me alone.”

and please hurry diluc. you didn’t want to chance waiting in here a moment longer, not when your throat felt tight and you weren’t certain if this man would leave you alone but when you turned to try to make your escape through the back door, you can still feel the closeness of him,  you knew you had been right.

“hey now,” you don’t dare look at him but before you can take more than a step away, you feel a sweaty, too hard grasp of hand clasping onto your arm and it forces you to turn around,” n’ need to be *hick* like that sweets-”

“don’t touch me!” you smack his hand off of you, the sting of it lingering on the back of your hand, an unease strain to your voice. you were beyond anxious to get out of here and go running for diluc, though your outfit and thin sandals would not make for good running attire.

taking quick steps backwards, trying to get away before he could get ahold of you again, before you were going to cry angry tears and make a scene in your boyfriends tavern, your body crashes against something, someone, you hadn't expected to be there. before you can look back to see who it is or even register what’s happening fully, the tavern falls into silence at the breaking of glasses and bottles crashing at your feet and the splash of wine and beer that’s now pooling at your feet and splattered on your legs.

it would have been all of you soaking in alcohol and cut by glass, joined on the floor with poor charles who was mostly unharmed but undoubtedly wet, had it not been for the strong and familiar arm that wraps around your middle and keeps you upright. it all happened in the blink of an eye, had not given you any time to do more than hang on to the black coat you found yourself pressed into and when you open your eyes again, the loveliest shade of red and the deepest black is all you see. 

you clung to the fabric your hands had held countless times, feeling dilucs arm wrap protectively around you tighter as you look up at him. his body was angled to keep you pressed into his side, as if he was hiding you, with him standing between you and the man who wouldn’t leave you alone. you could see the tense set of dilucs jaw and the lick of flames behind his ruby eyes, feel the way his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths that only seemed to fuel the fire. 

you have no idea how he was at your side so quickly. you hadn’t seen or heard him walk in, didn’t know how he could have gotten to as fast as he had with the tavern as busy as it is but here he was, holding you, protecting you.

“diluc-”

“hey! let- let go of me!” the drunk man protests and drowned out your voice. it was then you noticed his outstretched arm and the white knuckle grip diluc had on it. his hands were covered by his gloves but with the way the leather of them and the fabric of the mans long sleeve shirt bunched, the flex of his arm under his jacket, anyone could tell it was not a light grip.

“get out of my tavern,” dilucs voice was deep, commanding, and the only thing to be heard in angels share. the gazes watching you all were visibly taken aback by the young master's cool slipping but you couldn’t deny what it was doing to you either; making your knees weak and heat blossom in your core. “and do not come back.”

diluc let go of his arm, giving him the chance to go without more of a fuss, but the man hadn't backed down. the air was filled with tension that was keeping anyone from even breathing when the drunkard could not stop his running mouth, though he was smart enough to not move any closer.

“‘c’mon! i didn’t mean anythin’” he throws up his hands. “was just trying to show a lonely girl a good time and she-”

“i would advise you to be careful with how you speak about my girlfriend,” there was no doubt diluc was angry, and very quickly losing more of his patience but the way he held you, soft and unwavering, calling you his girlfriend.. it wasn’t that you needed anyone else to hear it but you hearing your title to him said out loud would never fail to make you nearly burst into a dozens of pyro crystals flies.

you bury yourself into dilucs side, trying to hide your flushed state. it had been such a quick change from how anxious you felt before, nearly giving you a whiplash, but diluc had always calmed your worries and made you feel safe. you couldn’t help it even if you tried and he had certainly not made it any easier.

“leave. i will not repeat myself again.”

with a scoff and a hiccup you heard the drunk man stumble away, the moments following remaining quiet until his footsteps disappeared and the door closed behind him. it wasn’t until then that you felt dilucs body relax but it was charles’ voice that broke the silence in the tavern, the chatter of patrons slowly following after.

“everything’s alright folks, we’ll get everything cleaned up and taken care of.”

the firm body you had been tucked into left you too quickly for your liking but diluc did not go far or let his hand be removed from you. glass cracked under his steps in his movements to face you and look you over, frowning further upon seeing the small cuts along the tops of your feet, the countless pieces of glass surrounding your delicate shoes and the red wine stains on your legs going up your shins.

you tried to speak, not caring about the your small injury when you didn’t even know if charles was okay. “charles i’m so-”

before you could finish your words or grasp that you are no longer on your feet, you’re being lifted into the air, diluc ensuring to collect the end of your dress under your knees when he cradles you in his arms and against his chest. the only thing on his mind was your safety and he didn’t care who watched as he held you like this or the way you nuzzle yourself into him and whisper against his collar. 

“i’m okay,” you assure him, not fighting to get out of his hold and letting him carry you towards the back room without another word.

with his heel he kicks the door closed behind him, muffling the usual atmosphere of the tavern that had now returned full force. you can hear the beating of his heart in your ear pressed against him and under its strong melody you truly could have forgotten about the whole thing that led to this.

gently, diluc sets you down on the desk he normally works from, his hands only leaving you to take off his gloves. even when he reaches for the first aid kit in one of the desk drawers his other hand is holding onto yours, letting the thumb you rub along his knuckles ease the flames that were building within him and making him see red.

he had hurried past the crowd when you saw you in distress and all he could think about was protecting you, not letting drunk patrons touch what was not theirs. it hadn’t helped his heart seeing what waited at your feet if you tried to move and he hadn’t thought about anything other than getting you somewhere safe when he scooped you into his arms so easily. even now, even after you told him you were okay, it was as though he had tunnel vision and could only see the cuts and sticky drinks on your skin.

but there’s a pause in his movements, a reluctance to let you go when everything he needs is not within arms reach and in an attempt to calm his worries, you squeeze his hand in yours, relishing in the callouses and scars that you feel amongst the softness of his skin. you didn’t get to feel them nearly enough like this.

it stops him completly.

“i’m sorry,” he says, not meeting your eyes.

“‘luc,” the way you call him never failed to bring those ruby eyes you love back to you and now was no exception. you bring your free hand to his face, the fingers brushing along his cheek, making his heart skip far too many beats, your touch the balm to his unease. “you have no reason to be sorry.”

“i should have been here sooner. i shou-”

“hey,” you stop him before he can blame himself any further, before he gets lost in what should have happened to avoid it all. “i was a little earlier than we agreed but even if i wasn’t, you can’t always be right next to me-”

but oh how he would love to be within the radius of your light with every breath he took.

“- no matter how much i want you to be,” you add, quiet and with tender love in your eyes, the swirling emotions in his own as he leans into your touch making your cheeks warm. “but you’re here now and really, i am okay.”

he takes a step closer to you, his scent and heat enveloping you, the slight chapness of his lips against your forehead bringing to life the butterflies in your stomach, bringing both of your hands to reach for his chest. 

it would still take him cleaning your legs and cuts himself, taking care of every single scrape for him to truly convince himself but your words sooth him nonetheless, as they always have. “i’m grateful for that,” he whispers against your skin, making a silent vow that you would never have to experience anything like that, especially in his own places, again. 

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

[rboooks]

DP x DC: Child Support

John Constantine has done a lot in his life. Some good, some bad but most have been dangerous.

He sold his soul to as many powerful beings as he could so that they could fight each other over it and keep him in a safe-ish stalemate. It was a risk, one where he had to sweet talk, maneuver, and sometimes seduce his way through, but he's always come on top.

Waking to his wards broken as easily as someone walking through a still river meant he had finally met his match. John woke to the Time looming over him in its adult form.

Clockwork, the physical concept of Time, smashed into a body and consciousness. It's so rare to see the god outside his tower; to even be in his presence was such a high honor that families would keep proof of the encounter for generations to brag about.

"Hello, Johnny," Clockwork said in his specialized adult form. The nickname curved with fondness. This form is an even rarer sight to behold. Clockwork looked about to be in his late twenties, dressed in a Victorian-era suit with dark black hair, he would look human were it not for his pure red eyes and time staff.

He looks gorgeous.

John smiled nervously. "Clockwork. What do I owe the pleasure?"

The ghost hums. "I have come to make a deal with you."

See, that's not something John would like to hear from the second-strongest being in the multiverse. He was second to the Ghost King. Some would even argue that Clockwork was stronger were it not for his desire to remain neutral in conflicts for the sake of different timelines.

"What kind of deal?" John asks with a lustful grin, running his eyes up and down Clockworks form. It looks like he may have to seduce his way out of this again and hopefully could convince the god of Time that he was a great time in bed instead of dead once more

The Master of Time appears amused but unwilling to climb under the sheets with him. Bollocks, if he wasn't back for another month of pleasure then the deal would likely be unpleasant.

Even if Clockwork could be considered a past fling, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't ask for something harmful. John had less powerful exes who would gladly have him killed just as likely as they would key his car.

To make thinga worst, Clockwork reached into his gentleman jacket to pull out a small jar. John's heart leaped in horror at what was inside.

"I have collected every piece of your soul through challenges, purchases, or even offerings. I own you entirely, John Constantine," Clockwork said, his warm tan skin rippling into blue as the Ghost turned the jar this way and that. "I wish to return it to you, with my added protection, should the old contracts which you swindled will not seek out revenge in exchange, you must take responsibility."

John can barely breath "Responsibility of what?"

Clockwork gestures behind him, and out of the shadows step a human boy. A human boy that looks precisely like human-Clockwork as a teenager but with John's eyes and the shape of John's nose.

No.

He knows that despite how similar they look, Humans and the citizens of the Infinite Realms aren't biologically the same. He just didn't think that meant this.

That he could be so careless it resulted in this.

Clockwork waves a hand between them. "Jonny meet your son, Danny."

John choked as Danny awkwardly waved at him. He even stuffs his hands into his pockets the same way John would stuff his hands into his trench coat.

This can't be happening.

"Our son is half human, and it's unhealthy for humans to remain in the Infinite Releams for long periods. I now require you to raise him on Earth until his core is ready. The day our son is of age, you will have your soul back with my Infinite protection. Danny will take the throne of the Infinite Realms upon his marriage so do help him find a good suitor."

Clockwork considers the rapidly paling human with large amounts of glee. "I trust this would be acceptable? I must warn you, I have raised him outside of time, so he is a bit behind with modern technologies and references. He also has a ghost form he must use for his health. Oh, and, Danny has a peanut allergy, so keep that in mind for his meals. If anything were to happen to Danny while he lives with you, I would erase this entire place and not through time manipulation. I will simply kill everything. Keep you alive so I can kill every version of those you love across the multiverse in front of you. Try not to slip away from your child support to prevent that, yes?"

John faints.

Danny Fenton had to be removed from his dimension to erase Dan from existence. His future self had nearly escaped the Clock tower they couldn't risk a second time. Clockwork had told him removing him from his dimension, his timeline, would never allow Dan to exist. It broke his heart but to save the many lives that Dan took Danny had agree.

His friends and family were devastated even if Clockwork told them Danny would be allowed visits. Just nothing longer than a week and six months between visits. He had moved into Clockwork's haunt, becoming an assistant to the master of time. He helped weave timeliness, and suggested possible choices for various creatures of various situations across the multiverse.

Danny helped Clockwork control fate, if that wasn't ridiculous. He even tried his ghost powers, to the point he felt he could truelt match his mentor in a fight.

He spent two years like this- or two years in his home dimension. Time didn't move in Clockwork's tower so despite the amount of time he lived there Danny didn't look a day over fourteen still. It irked him like nothing else to see Tucker and Sam as sixteen year Olds while he still looked like he was a freshman.

(It also hurt to see them move on without him.)

However, due to his halfa status, his human side was starting to fall apart. He needed sun, food, sleep, and other humans. He would go mad otherwise, and none of this would matter if it resulted in Dan.

Clockwork couldn't put him back home. He couldn't even put Danny in an alternate timeline, for he could not be close to people he knew.

He had to go to one that had no various of anyone Danny knew. Thankfully the Infinite Releams is connected to plenty of places that fit the bill. All Clockwork had to do was twist a few small events, and boom, Danny Fenton would have a perfectly legal background with everything he need for survive.

If only his mentor wasn't such a michivious prankster.

" You want me to pretend to be your love child with some random magic guy?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Trust me Danny, it's going to be hilarious."

(Part 2)

[munson-blurbs]

Escaped Convict!Eddie Munson x Innocent!Reader

Summary: a peaceful morning of reading and coffee is interrupted when you stumble upon convicted murderer and prison escapee Eddie Munson, and your kindness towards him does not go unrewarded.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), oral (f! receiving), fingering, corruption kink, 'sir' kink, spitting, biting, mention of blood, mention of assault/murder

WC: 2.6k

A/N: in this fic, "innocent" refers to some sexual inexperience. Eddie and Reader are both in their mid-20s and neither are portrayed as childlike.

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

At first, you don’t think anything of the slight rustling noise coming from the trees. It’s been a windy morning, the leaves swaying in the breeze since you’d first sat down at your favorite picnic bench, book in one hand and travel mug full of coffee in the other.

Now, you’re several chapters in, coffee long gone, the air warming as the sun reaches its peak in the sky. It’s almost time for you to head back home and get some lunch, and you begrudgingly tuck a bookmark into your tattered copy of To Kill a Mockingbird.

You hear the noise again; this time, it’s not accompanied with a gust of wind, and it draws your attention to an overgrown shrub in the near distance. Curiosity gets the best of you as you peer over it, but nothing could have prepared you for what you find.

One hand shoots out from behind the bush, yanking your wrist and pulling you down. Your jean-clad knees scrape against the cold ground, grass stains seeping into the fabric. A terrified squeal remains trapped in your throat, but you’ve gone completely silent in horror. Before you can process what’s happening, you feel a palm against your mouth.

“Don’t move,” a voice growls, low and slow against the shell of your ear. You keep your eyes staring straight ahead, unwilling to make contact with your captor. “You work with the cops? Hmm?” When you shake your head, his grip loosens slightly. Maybe it’s also because he can feel you trembling within his grasp, not even contemplating fighting back. “If I let you go, you promise you won’t tell a soul?”

You nod against his hand, taking a gasping breath when he hesitantly breaks contact, still unsure about trusting you. You try to scramble to your feet, but your body betrays you; every bone is gelatinous. Falling back with a pathetic whine, the adrenaline fades and the emotions it had been staving off comes flooding in. Tears fall from your eyes, hot as they slide down your cheeks in heaving sobs. The man swears under his breath, evidently distressed that you’ll give away his hiding spot with your crying.

“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry,” you apologize weakly, wiping at your face haphazardly and trying once again to stand. You’re successful this time, but before you can run away, you get a glimpse of him. 

He’s absolutely filthy; a mixture of blood and dirt covers his hands and bare feet. A formerly starch-white undershirt is caked in the same grime, bright orange jumpsuit tied around his waist. His hair is matted in several places, though you can see a semblance of curls amongst the knots. And the expression on his face is not one of anger or violence, but of fear. The same fear that wraps around you like a boa constrictor, squeezing and choking until there’s nothing left to feel.

It’s his eyes, the deep brown windows to his soul, that give away his identity. And though his current get-up is a stark contrast from the ill-fitted suit he’d worn to his televised court appearances, you know who he is.

Eddie Munson: murderer, prisoner, and now, escapee.

Your own eyes widen, and you take a staggering step back. You’d seen on the news that he’d broken out of Indiana State prison three days ago, but you’d never imagined that you would be the one to find him.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?” he snarls, snapping you from your stupor. “Just go!” He scoffs disbelievingly, not understanding why you haven’t taken off bolting back through the forest.

To be honest, you’re also unsure why you remain in place. You’d followed Eddie’s case since the moment it had first broken: a man leaving a bar in the strange hours that are past the night but not quite morning, plans of trekking home derailed by the sound of a woman’s frantic scream. Without thinking, Eddie ran towards it, fingers digging into a man’s throat to pull him off of her. He could have stopped there, the jury argued; he should have stopped there, but he didn’t. His fist connected with the offender’s cheek, delivering one punch after the other until his own fists were battered and bloodied. 

Eddie might have been hailed a hero if the perpetrator hadn’t been Jason Carver: All-American basketball player, a senator’s son, and most importantly, a man whose family had access to the best lawyers money could buy. The court overlooked Eddie’s act of courage in favor of the murder he’d committed and sentenced him to twenty years behind bars.

Was he innocent? Technically, no. But he also wasn’t the cold-blooded killer the media portrayed him to be.

You extend your hand, wincing at the way it shakes in front of you. “Let me help you, Eddie.” He flinches at his name, pulling back from you. “I…I can hide you, if you want.”

“Wh…what?” There’s no way he heard you correctly. You, the young woman in the soft sweater and frightened but kind eyes, just willingly offered to harbor a fugitive? “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says gently, pinning his hopes on you recognizing his authenticity, “you don’t have to do anything for me.”

“I know.” You keep your hand out, biting your lower lip with so much force that you could draw blood. “I want to.”

With a plethora of reservations, he accepts your proposal as you discreetly lead him to your car. You naively expect him to sit next to you, but he opts to lay down in the backseat where nosy drivers are less likely to spot him. He pulls his knees to his chest, hugging them tight to shrink himself even further. 

“If we get caught,” he whispers as you turn the key in the ignition, “tell them I made you do this, okay? Promise me.”

“Y-Yes. I promise.”

At your apartment, you point Eddie in the direction of the shower while you start on lunch. There isn’t much to choose from, but you crack open a can of Campbell’s tomato soup and make three grilled cheese sandwiches: two for him, one for you. You pour the soup into two bowls just as you hear the water turn off.

“Um, Sweetheart?” The nickname sets off a flurry of butterflies in your abdomen. “Do you have anything for me to wear?” He steps out of the bathroom, just a towel slung low on his waist. Droplets fall from his hair down his chest, blurring the lines of his tattoos. A dusting of brown hair trails from his navel and disappears below the towel. “I could put my own stuff back on, I guess, if you don’t.”

You will yourself to look away from the living, breathing artwork standing before you. “Y-Yeah, give me a sec.” Your arm grazes his torso as you walk past him towards your room, goosebumps appearing on your skin, and not just from the cooling water. Digging through your drawers, you manage to find a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt that your ex-boyfriend had left behind, never bothering to return to collect it. “Here,” you say; he doesn’t question why you have men’s clothes at the ready, just takes them gratefully and pads back into the bathroom to change.

You’re left breathless again when he walks out again, fully clothed. His biceps strain against the cotton material, filling it out better than your ex ever could. And his lack of underwear is evident, the outline just visible through his sweats. 

He’s gorgeous.

Eddie devours the food like it’s a delicacy, rather than canned soup and some Kraft slices on Wonder Bread. Perhaps, after years in prison and an undisclosed amount of days on the run, it is. He brushes the crumbs from his hands into his empty bowl and leans back with a small stretch. “Thank you,” he mumbles with a small smile, leaning over to take your own used utensils. “I’ll wash these. ‘S the least I can do.”

You nod, not wanting to protest and risk making him feel like he’s a burden. “How long can you stay?” you ask softly, nervously picking at your fingernails. “I mean, you’re welcome to stay as long as you need, but I know you probably shouldn’t stick around in one place for long…” You feel silly saying it, like you have any idea of what the protocol is for running away from prison.

“Not long,” Eddie admits, wiping the sponge over a spoon before rinsing it and placing it in the dishrack. “Probably should head back out as soon as it gets dark again. But, really, I can’t thank you enough. The warm shower, the food, the clean clothes…just wish I could repay you somehow.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes flick across your body, soaking in the sight of you. The ache between your legs pulses now, desperate for him to fill the space. You’ve only ever slept with people you’ve been in relationships with; certainly never with escaped convicts who you’d found hiding in the woods.

“What…what did you have in mind?” Your voice is small, barely above a whisper as you stand up and walk towards him. 

“Don’t…don’t do this,” he hisses, raking his fingers through his hair. “Please. It’s been fuckin’ forever, I can’t…” He bites the inside of his cheek and shakes his head. “I haven’t touched someone like I want to touch you in so fucking long, sweet girl.”

“You want to touch me?” You’re shocked at his candor, the way he readily confesses his needs. “W-Where?”

Eddie exhales, gliding his forefinger down your cheek. “Everywhere. I can’t get enough of you. Pretty little bookworm just begging to be corrupted, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you squeak, letting your palm fall to his bicep.

“Need to hear you say it,” Eddie urges, for your sake and his. His breath tickles below your ear. “Say it for me, sweet girl.”

“Corrupt me, Eddie.”

His hands are on you in an instant, pinning you against the countertop. Your lips find each other with the force of magnets, a clashing of teeth and tongues more fervent than you’ve ever experienced. He hoists you on top of it, tugging on your jeans and panties until they’re on the ground.

“‘M gonna taste you. See if you’re as sweet as you look,” he murmurs, crouching so he’s got a perfect view of your glistening folds. Broad arms wrap around your thighs to pull you close and he dives in, nose nudging your clit as his tongue broaches your hole. Your toes instinctively curl, back arching as he feeds off of your pleasure and gradually quickens his pace. One thick finger slides inside you, making you moan. “Goddamn, even your sounds are sweet.” He continues licking and sucking, adding another finger as you get wetter. “‘M sorry, I wanna keep eating you out, but I gotta…” His lips latch onto one nipple, giving it the tiniest bite that draws a whimper from you.

You’re surprised to find that you’re enjoying the pinch of pain, lacing your fingers through his curls and holding his face to your chest. You allow your senses to be overwhelmed, drowning them in the sensation of his mouth on your upper body and his fingers within you.

You rock yourself into him, desperately chasing the release that he’s inching you towards. It allows him even deeper, impossibly so, and you tighten around him.

Eddie lets go of your breast, focusing all of his attention on your pussy. His fingers plunge in and out as he looks deep into your eyes, not daring to break any contact. “Thassit, sweet girl,” he says in a cross between a hiss and a coo, “come f’me.”

And you do, relinquishing whatever semblance of control you’d tried to hold on to. You soak his fingers with a cry of his name. There’s no mistaking the proud grin that sweeps over his face, knowing that he was the one bringing you this pleasure. “You’re ready for my cock now, aren’t you?” He laughs when you nod, helping you off of the countertop. He tugs his pants down, exposing his hard length. He’s big, already leaking pre-cum, and you’re salivating at the anticipation of him stretching you delectably. “Bend over for me, honey. You’re gonna take it from behind today.” 

“Yes, sir.” You turn around, bracing your forearms on the Formica while he delivers a harsh slap to your ass.

“Fuck, say that again.”

“Yes, sir. Whatever you want, sir.” 

He groans, throwing his head back as he runs his tip along your folds. “Such a good girl, knowing her place. Gonna take whatever I give you, s’fucking good for me.” He pushes inside you, little by little until he bottoms out. “So warm, so wet, holy shit.” Calloused palms grip your hips as he thrusts into you. “Take it, sweet girl. Mmm, jus’ like that.” Each snap of his hips is punctuated with a wanton groan. “I’ve barely fucked you and you’re already cock drunk. No one ever fucked you this good, huh?”

“N-No, never. Only you, Eddie.”

You feel your chin being pulled so your head faces sideways, his thumb ghosting over your kiss-swollen lips. “Open wide, pretty little thing.” You do as he orders, his saliva coating your tongue as he spits into your mouth. “Mine,” he declares possessively, eyes widening as you swallow what he’s given you without even being asked. 

He pushes down on your back, your breasts pressed against the counter while he thrusts faster and faster, no longer concerned about holding back. “‘M gonna come on your ass.” He squeezes there, turning himself on further just having your supple skin in his grasp.

And because you know how wild it drives him, you consent with a, “yes, sir.”

Eddie pulls out just in time, his hot spend spilling out of him and onto your flesh. You wish you could see the way he’s adorned you, but you’ll have to settle for the feeling of him dripping down your curves. He stands behind you, panting heavily, holding his softening cock in one hand. 

“God fuckin’ damn, sweet girl,” he mutters, reaching over you to grab a paper towel. It’s scratchy as he cleans you up, then takes another and wipes the residual cum from his tip. “You really are perfect.”

You face him and gingerly kiss his lips, probably too intimate for the utter filth you’d just engaged in. Still, he returns it, hands roaming your body with intent but no real destination. 

“Mind if we get some rest?” he asks, poorly stifling a yawn. “You, uh, kinda wore me out just now.”

You lead him to your bedroom, both of you climbing under the covers wordlessly, heads barely hitting the pillow before you’re each sound asleep.

When you wake up hours later, you’re alone in the dark. At first, you wonder if it’s all been a dream, but when you click on your bedside lamp, there’s a handwritten note hastily scrawled on some scrap paper:

My sweet girl,

I had to go and didn’t want to wake you. I knew that if I did, you’d convince me to stay longer, and I can’t put you in any more danger than I already have.

I hope that fate will allow us to meet again, maybe if I’m ever truly a free man. ’ll be thinking of you until then.

Yours, 

Eddie

P.S. burn this note and flush the ashes after reading

You do as he asked, heart sinking as the flames swallow his words. Maybe he’s written the same ones to dozens of different lovers, or maybe you’re the only recipient. It doesn’t matter anymore. All that fills your memory is the way he felt inside you earlier today. 

You will it to live there forever.

--

[moonlightspencie]

you should see the things we do, baby

Description: Remus and Reader decide to take advantage of teasing Sirius, and it leads to a lot more than a dirty dream. (Part 2 to this drabble)

Pairing: Remus Lupin x fem!Reader x Sirius Black (not wolfstar unless you count a few comments from sirius lol)

Warnings: oh boy (18+ only!): p in v, oral (fem receiving), threesome and a trip to paris, big dick!remus, teasing, kind of dom!remus, sirius is shy for once

Word Count: 5.2k words

A/N: this was supposed to be a DRABBLE. also i don’t write smut like ever so pls be nice to me

A week had passed, and Sirius’ embarrassment had yet to subside. In fact, it was only made worse as he had two more dreams with a very similar subject matter.

It was terrible. It was exhilarating.

Sirius had never had problems finding someone to satisfy his needs whenever they arose, but dreaming of you caused a whole new slew of problems. It seemed like no matter what he did or who he tried to flirt with, you were still on his mind.

It was made far worse by the fact that Remus knew about his dirty little secret and had been relentlessly teasing him about it. Every chance he got, he’d show you off or pack on the PDA in front of poor Sirius, chuckling into your skin when the usually-suave Sirius would turn pink and need to look away.

Your suspicions in all of this only grew.

You sat with Remus in the bedroom he had at the place he shared with Sirius. So far, you’d only been reading side-by-side, everything being fairly innocent. That is, until an idea popped into your head.

“Love?”

Remus hummed in question.

“What’s going on with Siri lately? I know something is up.”

Remus shrugged, not putting his book down. “Not sure, darling.”

You narrowed your eyes, setting your book down on the nightstand. You turned to look at him more fully.

“I don’t like when you lie to me.”

He huffed. “Darling, it’s really nothing. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“But I am worried,” you whined. “He’s been acting so strangely around me lately. I know that you know what’s happened, too.”

“How do you know that?” he asked with a soft smile, finally setting his book off to the side.

“Because I know you, my dear,” you said, nuzzling into his neck. “Please tell me?”

“I can’t, love,” he responded, a hand coming to rest on your back.

You groaned, lifting your face. You set a hand on his thigh, rubbing against his leg softly. You pressed a soft kiss to his jaw.

“Baby, please? I’ll make it worth your while.”

He smirked. “Yeah?”

You nodded with an innocent smile, moving your hand up his leg slowly.

“Promise.”

“You say that like I’m not the one who’d have you begging for it in a minute,” he said, voice suddenly low and gravely.

You swallowed, knowing he was right, but unwilling to admit defeat just yet. You merely turned, pouting to yourself as you pulled your hands away. Then, you hid a smirk as a new idea came into your head.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” you said, standing suddenly and moving towards the bathroom door.

You turned on the faucet to let the water heat up, walking back into Remus’ bedroom and straight to his closet. You started undressing, only taking one of his shirts off the hanger for after your shower once you were fully bare in front of him. You hadn’t yet turned around, reaching for a towel, but you could feel his eyes on you.

You sent him an innocent smile as you walked past the bed, right back into the bathroom with the door wide open. If he could hide things from you, you figured you could tease him as much as you’d like.

“You can join me if you want to spill the truth, love,” you called out, turning on the shower head and stepping under the stream.

It was a while before you finally heard him get off the bed, and a smile spread to your face. You heard the curtain open, not bothering to look in his direction.

“Don’t even think about coming in here unless you’re going to tell me what’s happened.”

“Darling. You’re being unfair.”

“I’m being perfectly fair,” you said, turning to him at last.

You had to admit, it was hard to turn him down when he was stripped down in front of you, asking to get in the shower alongside you. Few things sounded better than getting your hands all over his pretty body under the shower stream. But one of those few things just happened to be knowing that secret the boys were keeping from you. You shook your head at him when he pouted at you.

“All you have to do is tell me what’s wrong,” you shrugged nonchalantly.

He swallowed, looking you up and down.

“If I tell, you have to promise you won’t say anything to Pads.”

You smirked. “Whatever you say, love.”

He hopped in, shutting the curtain behind him with a cheesy grin, pulling you in for a heated kiss immediately. You let him have that, kissing him back, feeling him grow harder against your stomach from the contact. You sucked his lip into your mouth, letting it go with a pop.

“Tell me, then we keep going, yeah?”

“Siri had a sex dream about you. Feels real awkward about it, now.”

You raised a brow. “That’s it?”

He nodded. “But he’s terribly embarrassed about it. It’s why he’s been acting like that with you. Doesn’t know how to act now.”

“Why not?”

“Well, speaking from experience, darling,” he started, pressing another kiss to your lips, “once you get the picture of you all bare and begging in your head, it’s hard to get it out.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I find it hard to believe I’d have that strong an effect on anyone. Especially from a dream.”

“You’d be surprised,” he mumbled, capturing your lips again.

He let his hand trail down your body, rubbing at that little bundle of nerves in the way that made your knees weak instantly. He knew your body better than anyone, and he loved proving it to you over and over again. You tried to get into it, holding onto him tightly, but you found yourself preoccupied with questions.

“What is it, baby?” Remus asked against your neck, leaving soft kisses to your skin. “You’re distracted.”

“Just confused, is all, Rem,” you said, a little breathless from the contact he was making.

He hummed. “Why? You thinking about what it’d be like getting fucked by Sirius, now?”

You scoffed. “No. Just wanna know why it’s such a big deal for him.”

“You’re gorgeous, doll,” he said, letting out a small noise at your hand around his cock. “Surprised it took him this long to realize he’d like a go at you.”

You sighed, a whimper leaving you as his hand moved faster. He was clearly enjoying every bit of this.

“Sounds like you like the idea of it,” you quipped.

He chuckled lowly, bucking his hips into your hand. Your head fell against the tile in the shower, though he didn’t let you rest for long. He pulled away from your hand, lining himself up with your entrance instead.

“Maybe I do.”

He pushed inside of you, picking you up and pushing you against the shower wall as he rammed his hips into yours.

“Maybe I like the idea of watching you squirm on my cock with Sirius down your throat. Using that pretty mouth of yours,” he groaned into your ear. “Let him get a little preview of what it’s like to be with you in real life— not just in his dreams, yeah?”

You whined, the effect of his words making you plummet towards your climax at a rapid speed. He slapped your clit quickly, making your body jerk.

“You can pretend you don’t like that idea, but I can feel you clenching around me when I talk about it,” he said, looking you in the eye again with a mischievous grin. “No use lying to me, darling.”

“Remus…”

“What, darling? Tell me.”

“Fuck,” you whined, head dropping to his shoulder. “M’gonna… I-I’m—”

“I know, baby,” he said, getting a bit out of breath himself as he pounded you into the wall. “You can let go for me.”

You held onto his shoulders for dear life, coming hard around him, your eyes squeezed shut at the feeling. He didn’t let up his pace until he was spilling inside of you, barely holding you up as he did.

“Did so good, love,” he mumbled, kissing your forehead gently. “Good girl.”

You smiled softly, blushing every time he praised you, even after years together. He let you down onto shaky legs.

“Thank you, Rem.”

He furrowed his brows with a small smile. “For what?”

“Making me come like that,” you said, a little sheepish. “Best one in a while.”

“Naughty girl,” he growled playfully into your ear, nipping at the lobe. “Getting off on the idea of fucking our best friend.”

“Remus,” you groaned, pushing him away a little. “Stop it.”

“It’s okay, darling,” he said, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “You know I’m just teasing. But if you ever wanted to—”

You raised a brow, unsure how much of this was really a joke. He cracked a smile, rolling his eyes mockingly.

“I’m not going to push you to do anything, but I don’t think that Sirius would mind it. I know I wouldn’t.”

“Since when have you ever wanted to share me?”

He shrugged, turning to shut off the water that started growing colder. He stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist, and then tucking you into one as well, helping you out of the shower. He hugged you to his chest, slowly drying you off in his arms.

“I never wanted to before. Then,” he tilted his head, looking at you with stars in his eyes, “he told me about that dream. Thought it might be fun to share you, just a little. I also thought you might like the idea.”

“Why’s that?”

“Know you love to be all filled up,” he smirked. “What better way to get you full from both ends than with a friend?”

You laugh, dropping your head on his chest. “You’re gross.”

“You love it.”

“I love you. Not so much when you’re being all icky.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You liked it enough when I was fucking you against the wall, yeah?”

Your cheeks heated up, a shy smile on your face.

“Sweet girl,” he cooed. “Alright, I’m all done, now, my darling. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

You sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to, I just—”

He paused. “What is it, love?”

“I don’t even know how we’d, like…” you groaned. “This is so weird to even talk about.”

He smiled softly, leaning down to press a delicate kiss against your lips.

“If you want me to, I can do all the talking,” he whispered. “You just sit with me and be your usual pretty self. Just so he knows I’m not screwing with him.”

You looked up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, voice soft. “Whatever you want, darling. Anything for you.”

You smiled. “Alright.”

“Alright? You want to?”

You nodded, and his smile grew. He kissed you again, then kissed your forehead. Then your cheek. Then your other cheek. Then your jaw, and eventually all over your face until you were a giggling mess.

“Okay,” you surrendered. “Okay, Rem, all done. Come on.”

You took his hand, pulling him back into the bedroom.

“Nap first, cause you fucked all my energy out,” you said, an accusatory finger pointed in his direction. He paid no mind, giving you a cocky smirk. “Then dinner, then… We’ll talk.”

He nodded. “Alright, princess.”

Sirius sat around most of the day, his nerves inexplicably on edge no matter what he did. He couldn’t place why he felt so anxious, but it just kept building. Up until after dinner time, it didn’t make any sense— but then, it started making a lot of sense.

You were all in the living room together once again, in what would normally be a comfortable silence as music played softly. However, Sirius was anything but comfortable.

Once again, you were perched on Remus’ lap, letting him run his hands all over you like nobody else was around. It had become more of a habit over the past week. Though, your teasing smile every time Siri caught your gaze was new.

He flushed each time your eyes met his, giving him a smile or a wink that he was certain he wasn’t imagining. It made him horribly nervous that you knew something. It also excited him more than he’d like to admit.

He had committed to not touching himself when he thought of you, and so far he had been true to his promise to himself. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t absolute torture with how often you’d been occupying his mind. It seemed that every time he tried to… be alone with himself, you’d pop into his brain. To put it shortly: he was on edge in every sense of the word.

He tried not to watch you and Remus, knowing Remus was merely teasing him for his dream, but every man has a breaking point.

His came when Remus bit down softly on your neck, and you let out a little whimper. It was horribly close to what he’d imagined in his dreams, and he found his pants growing a bit tight and uncomfortable. It only worsened when he looked up to see your eyes trained on him as Remus attacked your neck with lips and teeth, not bothering to be polite in front of his housemate. You smiled softly, a glimmer in your eye as you locked your gaze on Sirius. It took a great deal of control to look away from you, and he mentally patted himself on the back when he finally did.

“Not enjoying the show, Pads?” Remus asked teasingly.

“Shut up,” he grumbled.

“Aww,” you cooed. “What happened to my sassy Siri? You’re usually so forward and flirtatious. Why change now?”

His eyes widened, and he looked between you and Remus. You both wore eerily similar smirks, and suddenly he felt his mouth dry up. He leveled his gaze at Remus.

“You didn’t.”

Remus raised his brows. “Didn’t what?”

“You told her, didn’t you?”

“She can be very convincing,” he offered.

Sirius groaned. “You’re unbelievable. I ask you to keep one secret…”

“Come on, Siri, there’s no reason to be embarrassed,” you said, adjusting your position in Remus’ lap. “I won’t blame you for having a dream.”

He sighed, not meeting your eye. He shook his head.

“I don’t get embarrassed.”

“What do you call those red cheeks of yours, then?” you teased.

He turned his glare to you. “Not funny, angel.”

“Still calling me by pet names, though,” you smiled, turning to Remus. “You wanna ask, now?”

“You two need to stop this. It’s not fair,” Sirius shook his head, staring at the both of you, unamused.

“Done teasing, Pads,” Remus said, moving you on his lap to get a better view of his friend. “I have a real question for you, now.”

Sirius looked on, curious but cautious. He raised a brow in question.

“We were talking earlier, and, well, after that dream of yours,” Remus began.

Sirius cut him off. “Right, I’m done then.”

He started moving to get out of his seat.

“Sit down,” Remus said, furrowing his brow. “Just listen.”

Sirius huffed, plopping back down. He crossed his arms, and you held back a chuckle at his little show of annoyance. You leaned into Remus’ chest as he started talking again.

“We want to invite you to be with us for the night,” he said plainly.

Sirius gaped for a moment, then quickly shut his mouth, setting his face hard.

“S’not funny, Mooney,” he said, then looked at you with an equally severe look. “And I expect better from you.”

Your eyes went a little wider. “We’re not joking, Siri.”

He looked between the two of you, unsure. His cheeks were tinted red as he tried to formulate a response. You merely quirked a brow, hoping it would settle in for him that you weren’t lying. It was taking far too long for your liking, evidently.

“What happened to you being all snarky and smooth? Blushing and stumbling over us asking you to come to bed,” you said, shaking your head.

Remus snorted behind you, pressing his face into your neck.

“You’re one to talk, love,” Sirius retorted quickly. “I couldn’t send a wink your way years ago without you going red.”

“So defensive, Padfoot,” Remus tutted. “If you don’t want to—”

“No,” Sirius responded, too quickly. “No, I just… If you two are playing some prank on me—”

“We’re not,” Remus said with finality.

Sirius let out a breath, his gaze lingering on you before he finally nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” he cleared his throat, throwing on a smirk. “Maybe it’ll get those dreams out my head, yeah?”

“Maybe,” you said with a smile. “Maybe it’ll make them worse.”

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “Don’t know if I can handle that.”

You smiled to yourself, standing and taking Remus’ hand in yours. “Come on, love.”

He stood with you, glued to you as you started walking towards his bedroom, but not before you turned to Sirius and sent him a wink. He raised his brows, unsure if he should get up and follow.

“You’re supposed to come too, Siri,” you called out behind you.

He nodded to himself, taking in a quick breath as he followed after you both. His heart pounded in his chest as you all stepped into the bedroom. He knew he was still blushing, but couldn’t quite stop himself. He never got nervous about sex, but this felt entirely different that anything he’d done before. He rubbed his palms against his pants, trying to appear confident, though he knew he was probably failing miserably.

He watched as you walked up to him, taking his hand and pulling him towards the bed as Remus lingered near the mattress with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“Don’t be nervous,” you said quietly, instructing him to sit down on the bed.

He watched with wide eyes and a bitten lip as Remus spun you around, kissing you more intensely than Sirius had ever witnessed before. He felt that discomfort in his pants growing again, watching your body fully pressed against Remus’ as you let him explore your mouth until you were entirely breathless. Remus pulled away from you, pressing one last soft peck to your lips.

“Just want to remind you who you belong to before we start this,” he smirked. “Go on, show him what those pretty lips feel like.”

You leaned up, unable to stop yourself from kissing him once more before turning to Siri. You sat on the bed next to him, facing him.

“This okay?” you asked quietly.

“Definitely,” he nodded.

You rested one hand on his leg, leaning in slowly until he met you halfway. You nipped at his lip, not quite kissing him, yet. Luckily for you, he took that as a sign to make the first move. You smiled into the kiss: he was clearly desperate as he pressed his lips to yours intensely, scooting closer to you on the mattress. You licked softly at the crease between his lips, slipping your tongue into his mouth when he opened up for you. You felt Remus’ hand stroke through your hair as you let his best friend kiss you deeply. One of your hands moved up to Siri’s jaw, stroking his skin softly.

“That’s my girl,” Remus said softly, his voice giving away his arousal. “So good, darling.”

You peeked your eyes open, looking up at him for a moment as you moved your lips to Sirius’ neck. He gave you a soft smile, letting you take full control of the situation, even when he clearly wanted to. You reached up with the hand you had against Sirius’ face to trail up Remus’ leg and towards the noticeable bulge in his pants. He licked his lips, moving his hips a bit closer to you. Sirius sighed softly in your ear when you dragged your teeth against a particularly sensitive spot on his neck.

“Come on, darling,” Remus said, pulling you away from Sirius and up to your feet.

You looked at him expectantly, understanding his impatience more when he started tugging at your top. You let him take it off of you, hearing a hard breath come out of Sirius when he saw that you didn’t have anything under the shirt. Remus turned you towards Sirius, pressing open-mouthed kisses all down your neck.

“Isn’t she pretty, Pads?” he asked against your skin.

Sirius swallowed, nodding. “Very.”

He leaned back on the mattress, palming the bulge in his pants as he watched your chest rise and fall from Remus’ lips on you. You smirked when Remus trailed his hands up your torso, Sirius’ eyes following every movement carefully, before landing on your breasts. You pushing your hips back into Remus, making him groan softly at the friction against his still-clothed member. You thought it was only fair with how he squeezed at the flesh of your tits, playing with your nipples until you couldn’t hold back your noises anymore.

You were breathing heavily, your eyes fluttering open when Remus’ hands started retreating. You looked at Sirius who hadn’t pulled his eyes from you the entire time. You reached for him.

“Siri,” you said, pulling his hands to you.

He let his fingertips explore your exposed skin, leaning up to capture one of your nipples between his lips. You whimpered softly at the contact of his wet mouth against your irritated skin, your hand threading through his hair. You only stopped when you felt Sirius’ movements stop, his mouth barely against you as he glanced over your shoulder.

“Damn, Mooney,” he said, eyes wide. “Didn’t know you were… How was I the womanizer in school?”

You looked behind you, smiling at your now-bare boyfriend in all his glory. You couldn’t blame Sirius for being impressed— He had, by far, the biggest dick you’d ever seen personally. You were practically convinced he wouldn’t fit inside of you the first time you saw him.

“I was too busy chasing after this one,” he said, nodding towards you, leaving you blushing. “Not that big, anyways.”

“Not that…” Sirius started, trailing off. “Mate, I can’t stop staring. How have you gotten through life like that?”

You snorted a laugh. “Alright, stop staring at my boyfriend’s cock.”

“It’s impressive,” Sirius said simply, raising a brow as he looked on before turning his gaze away and towards your face. “No wonder you’re always trying to shag.”

You felt Remus behind you, pressing himself fully against your backside. “Helps that she’s just as impressive.”

Sirius swallowed, suddenly feeling overly dressed as he watched Remus tug your pants down your legs, leaving you in a pair of black panties.

“Wait till you feel her mouth, Pads,” Remus said, nipping at your shoulder. He then spoke into your ear. “Why don’t you help him out of those clothes, darling?”

You obliged with a shake of your head and smile. Sirius shot you a cocky smirk as you pulled his sweater over his head.

“Stand,” you instructed, to which he quickly obeyed.

You pulled his pants down, smiling to yourself at the tent in his underwear. You tugged those down next, and while he was no Remus size-wise, he was just as pretty. You stared for a moment, tongue wetting your lips subconsciously. As you stood back up, Remus shoved his hand into your panties, making a satisfied noise at how wet you’d become already.

He pulled his hand back up, popping the fingers he’d brushed against you in his mouth. You watched, never not enamored with how bold he got in bed. He smirked at you, then looked at Sirius.

“Care for a taste?”

Sirius nodded quickly. “Love to.”

“Lay down for him, darling,” Remus said, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You quickly climbed onto the bed, laying against the pillows at the headboard. Remus smiled softly at you, his eyes looking you up and down lovingly.

“Pretty girl,” he sighed, shaking his head. He sat next to you after a moment, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Alright, Sirius.”

Remus nodded at the apex of your thighs, expecting Sirius to get to work. Siri gave you a questioning look, to which you nodded with a smile. He crawled between your legs, kissing all the way up your thighs until he reached your panties. He pulled them slowly down your legs, licking his lips at the sight of you before him.

“Wow,” he said, breathless. He looked at Remus again, “Understand why you always want to shag, too.”

“And you haven’t even really touched her yet,” Remus said with a light laugh. He kissed you on your forehead. “See, love? You are entirely irresistible.”

You shook your head, capturing his lips with a hand on his neck. Just in time, too, moaning into his mouth as you felt Sirius dive into your cunt like nothing you’d expected. You gasped again, though Remus shoved his tongue in your mouth to keep you quiet. The only way you could describe what Sirius was doing was that he was not only eating you out, but fully making out with your pussy. You clenched around nothing, writhing under both of their grips on you: Remus’ hands holding your waist and neck, Sirius’ arms wrapped around your legs to keep you open for him.

“Feel good, darling,” Remus asked against your lips.

You nodded with a whine. “Yes. Fuck.”

Sirius groaned against you, the vibrations shooting all over you.

“Shit, Siri,” you moaned, a hand in his hair. “So good.”

Remus smiled, shaking his head at you before diving back in to kiss you again, directing your hand to stroke his cock as he did. Between his tongue in your mouth and Sirius’ mouth all over your soaked cunt, it wasn’t long before you felt that familiar tension in your stomach start to snap. You cried out against Remus, your whole body shaking as the orgasm ripped through you at a rapid speed. Sirius left soft kisses all over your thighs, pressing one last kiss directly on your clit before he sat up. You opened your eyes, looking at him in a daze. You knew from rumors he was supposed to be good in bed, but you didn’t expect him to be quite so talented with his mouth.

You also didn’t expect to look down and see him leaking precum as if he’d been the one getting off. You whimpered again at the sight, arousal only building at the fact that he was that excited from going down on you. You started moving your hand slowly again where it rested on your boyfriend’s dick, wanting him to feel good, too, but he had other ideas.

“Hands and knees, angel,” he said, kissing your cheek quickly. “Let him see what that pretty mouth can do for him, yeah?”

You nodded, moving to get onto all fours in front of Sirius. You leaned on your elbows, taking him into your hand and stroking him. You looked up, his face already showing obvious signs of his pleasure. You stuck your tongue out, running it terribly slowly over the vein that stuck out on the underside of his cock until you reached the head, pressing a soft kiss just where the precum was leaking out. You licked your lips clean for him, watching as his brows raised, his chest rising and falling a little faster.

“How is it?” he asked, a little amused at your show.

“Tastes like you,” you smirked, taking the entire tip in your mouth, causing a few curses to spill from his lips.

“My little cumslut,” Remus cooed from behind you. “Don’t let her pull off until she swallows, yeah?”

Sirius nodded, breathless as you started bobbing your head faster. “Yeah. Yeah, will do.”

You felt Remus slide his head against you, gathering your slick and Sirius’ left-over spit until he slowly started pushing into you. You moaned your appreciation around Sirius, causing him to tense up, his hand finding it’s way to the back of your head.

“Just like that,” he groaned as you wrapped your hand around him, pushing him deeper into your throat with each thrust. “Fuck, doll. You do this so well. So good.”

Remus slapped your ass from behind, thrusting into you harder. “Manners, baby. He just complimented you, didn’t he?”

You pulled off for a moment, hand taking over. “Thanks, Siri.”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, trying to push himself back into your mouth as quickly as possible.

You smiled to yourself, obliging him. Though, it was becoming a little more difficult to keep pace just right when Remus was more-so pulling you on and off his cock rather than thrusting his hips into you.

You groaned and choked on Sirius, especially as he started fucking into your face. You felt yourself rapidly approaching another orgasm, and Remus seemed to notice.

“Come on, love,” he grunted. “I can feel you. I know you want to come all over my cock. Go ahead.”

You whined again, mouth full, and came crashing down. You were barely able to keep yourself up as both men fucked into you relentlessly, and Remus grabbed you around your middle to help you stay upright.

“Just a bit longer, love,” he said, clearly getting close himself.

“I’m gonna…” Sirius said, groaning out the words. He looked down at you with his mouth agape and his eyes dark. All it took was you looking back up at him with teary eyes, his cock pumping in and out of your mouth. “Fuck”

His hips stuttered, and he spilled into your mouth. You shut your lips around him, swallowing as much as you could with him still jammed in your throat. He practically whimpered from overstimulation, pulling out of your mouth to let you swallow whatever you couldn’t before. He flopped down on the bed in front of you, giving you another smirk before he tossed his arm over his face, coming down from his high.

“Alright, love,” Remus mumbled, pounding into you harder now that you weren’t otherwise occupied.

You groaned loudly as he hit that perfect spot inside of you, gasping for breath when you felt a hand toying with your clit. You opened your eyes, seeing it was Sirius who had slipped his hand under your body. He smiled at you, cheeky, especially when he saw your brows knit together. You were getting close again.

“Gonna cum inside of you,” your boyfriend said, pressing his face into your neck. “M’close.”

“Please,” you begged, though not quite sure to who.

Sirius sped up the work of his hand as Remus spilled inside of you, sending you careening over the edge once again. Your body convulsed under Remus’ larger frame, your arms finally giving out under you. You shut your eyes as it took over your entire being, not opening them again until you felt Remus pulling out of you.

“Aww, look at that, Pads,” he said, a smile in his voice. “Think we just about fucked her to sleep.”

You heard Sirius chuckle. “Cute.”

Remus pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “I’m going to get a washcloth for you, alright, love?”

You nodded, barely coherent and thoroughly fucked out, still laying on your stomach. Another hand brushed away some stray hair from your forehead.

“For the record, this is definitely not going to help those dreams of mine,” Sirius said lowly.

[inkdragon1900]

The way each pov in the locked tomb series is from the view point of an unreliable narrator drives me crazy in the best way.

Gideon is an unreliable narrator because it’s so dependent on her first impression of a person. For instance Ianthe, Coronabeth, Palamedes and Camilla compared to everything we learn later. Even her viewing of Harrowhark feels so jarring compared to Harrow’s view of herself in htn. She also knows very little about necromancy so everything feels less like science and more like something out of her magazines.

Then we have Harrow. Who literally has gaslit herself and trying damn hard to gaslight the audience that the last book never happened. Everything is a lot less black and white compared to GTN but her shades of grey still feel muddy. her depression seeps through every interaction she has that by the time it switches back to Gideon’s pov I literally felt like I had whiplash.

in NTN we have the John chapters and Nona.

Nona for her part seems like she see’s everything in black and white but as we see her mentally mature instead of seeing just shades of grey she see’s everything in vivid color. She loves everyone the good and the bad. She’s an unreliable narrator in the sense that because she loves Cam, Pal, Phyrra and Corona in a black and white fashion in the beginning she does not acknowledge their flaws in their choices. It’s only when she’s emotionally matured that she can see everyone she loves for the three dimensional people they are.

John for his part is so unwilling to forgive that we see that it doesn’t stop at B.O.E or the trillionares it extends to the unwillingness to forgive himself for a situation that I genuinely think no one could have handled. He refuses to look at himself for what he is and what he was in that moment, a scared man with to much power. (Unlike the Lyctors who were quite on quote “playing with the reflection of stars in a puddle and thinking it’s space.” He’s thrown into space and rapid fire has to learn how to tread or die drowning.) He lies because he doesn’t want to appear insane or weak or horrible not realizing that by doing that he’s removing the sympathetic parts of himself. Like Mercy and Augustine said they most likely would have forgiven him if he had just told them he fucked up. His point of view is so similar to Gideons black and white thinking that it works so well contrasted with Nona’s pov.

I can’t freaking wait for Alecto

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 27 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley just needs your full attention long enough for you to tell him what's bothering you, and for you to pick out a new car. He comes home from golfing completely unwilling to let you gloss things over, but the conversation veers off course once again when you share some big news.

Warnings: Swearing, smut, oral, pregnancy topics, angst, fluff

Length: 5400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

By the eighteenth hole, Bradley was restless. This was taking forever. He somehow forgot how meticulous Bob was when he teed off, adding probably a full hour to the golf outing. He bit his tongue and fought the urge to tell Bob to move things along so he could get back home to you. When he left hours ago, you were still sound asleep, and he was concerned that you weren't feeling well. He was also completely fed up with the way you were avoiding conversation.

He played through the last hole as quickly as he could, and when Jake and Javy suggested grabbing lunch and a beer, he made his excuses and a quick exit. "Next time. And it'll be my treat. But I need to get home."

"Angel's got you so pussy whipped," Jake drawled as if he wasn't currently driving his car around complete with a car seat for Jeremiah.

"Do you ever hear me denying it or complaining about it?" Bradley replied as he set his clubs in the back of the Bronco. "I don't think she's feeling great, and I need her to pick out a new car. I'm getting fed up with her dragging her feet. So she's picking something out today."

Jake laughed as he opened his car door. "Yeah, go try to show her who's the boss, buddy. Good luck with that."

Bradley grunted and rolled his eyes. You and he were a team, and if he had to demand that you hear him out, then he'd get his way about it. He was absolutely unwilling to return to a place where the two of you weren't communicating well. But as he drove back home, he was starting to get more annoyed. He already asked you so many times to tell him what was bothering you and what was on your mind, and each time, you'd burst into tears. He didn't even know what the hell he was doing wrong. 

"Fuck," he growled as he pulled into the empty driveway, honestly kind of missing your little shit mobile since it had made you happy. Today was his mom's birthday, and he wanted you to have a good day, but if he pissed you off, then he pissed you off. He was armed with his phone browser open to two options that would just have to be good enough. He left his clubs in the car as he strolled up the walkway to the porch in his white golf pants and floral print shirt. He would just have to get you to accept the fact that a new car needed to happen.

"Sweetheart?" he called out when he opened the door. You and Tramp both came running into the living room. "Hey, we need to talk about some of this shit. Right now."

"Okay, but-"

"Please," he said firmly, holding up one hand. "Just let me say what I need to say, alright?"

You were bouncing on the balls of your bare feet with your hands clasped in front of you. "Okay," you agreed, your voice breathy and light. All he wanted to do was collect you in his arms and smother you in kisses, but he couldn't get sidetracked right now. 

Bradley closed the distance to you but planted his hands on his hips. "I love you so much, but something is not working right now. And I'm not going to let us fall apart again. Ever. I want to talk it through right now, and I need you to participate. Starting with your car."

You reached out and let one hand rest on his abs as your lips parted, but he shook his head. 

"No, seriously, Baby Girl. I will do anything to make you happy, but could you please, please just pick out a car? I don't like leaving you home without one." He paused to lean in and kiss your forehead briefly. "I found a brand new, red Honda Civic with all of the same features as your old one. Same transmission, sunroof, everything. And it's on a lot in Chula Vista. We could go look at it right now."

"Bradley, I don't think that's a good idea," you told him, smiling up at him. He felt his resolve fracturing, but he kept going.

"Well, something has to give here! That's the best I can come up with. Unless... you want to go with the blue one I found online which is exactly the same as the one that I totaled. Same model year and everything, but it's in Maine. If you really want it, we can fly there and drive it back. I already talked to the owner about the price."

"Bradley, I don't want that one either."

He tipped his head back in frustration as your hand caressed him through his shirt. "For the love of god, Sweetheart, I am trying my best here. And you're giving me nothing. And it's not just the car," he snapped as he met your gaze again, eyes wide looking up at him. "You yelled at me for buying the wrong coffee when I thought they just changed the label, and you fell asleep while we were mid conversation. And I hurt you when we were having sex, but you wouldn't even talk about it afterwards. I need you to tell me if I'm not doing it for you, because I don't want to keep fucking this up!"

"You're not fucking anything up," you promised quietly. "You're not, Roo."

He examined your pretty, eager face and shrugged. "Then just tell me what's going on here."

You bit your lip and closed the remaining inches between your body and his, and then you smiled up at him so brilliantly, his breath caught in his lungs. As you carefully wrapped your arms around his waist, you said, "I'm pregnant."

He was frozen in time and space, barely able to process your words as his belly swooped and his heart raced. Pregnant. You were pregnant? He swallowed hard as he let his forehead rest against yours, trying to formulate words.

"Baby Girl, are you really? Pregnant?"

"Yes," you whispered, and Bradley had you in his arms, making you squeal as he lifted you up in the air. 

"You're pregnant?" he asked again, beaming at you as you wrapped your legs and arms around him.

"I'm pregnant!" 

"Holy shit!" he nearly screamed as you buried your face in his neck and laughed in delight. "Holy shit! You're pregnant!"

He didn't know what to do with himself as he held you tight against him, imagining a baby in your arms. His baby. And your baby. Something the two of you had been dreaming about for so long. The one thing he'd had to make himself understand he didn't need at the cost of a happy marriage, but that he'd still yearned for.

Your happy laughter and whispered words had his feet moving toward the bedroom. "You're going to be a dad, Roo." 

He set you down on the bed, covering your body with his large one, careful not to hurt you as your sweet lips met his. "I love you so much," he murmured between kisses that left him breathless. "I fucking adore you, Sweetheart."

You whimpered as he slowly let his hand drift down your body before inching your shirt up and running his knuckles gently along your belly. He kissed you hard on the lips one last him before easing his body down lower, kissing your sternum on his way to your belly button. He thought about the future as he said, "And I adore you, too."

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

You ran your fingers lazily through your husband's soft curls as his big hand rested on the middle of your belly next to his cheek. He was a little sweaty and still wearing his golf clothes, but everything was just perfect. The edge of his mustache tickled your sensitive skin as he whispered, "I love you."

Everything made sense now which made you feel more settled. Honestly, this was much better than the flu that you thought you had, and you giggled. "You'll be the best Daddy, Bradley."

He looked up your body before kissing you a dozen more times all over your abdomen. Calloused fingers stroked your skin as he looked at you with those big, brown eyes you were completely addicted to. "Fuck. I'm so excited. I don't even know what to do with myself," he told you as you sat up and climbed onto his lap. "You took a pregnancy test?"

"Yes. I had one tucked in the back of the bathroom closet that I bought a few months ago," you whispered, brushing his scarred cheek with your lips and the tip of your nose. 

"Where's the test?" he asked, scooping you up in his arms again as you told him it was in the bathroom. "I want to see it." You'd managed to pick it up off the floor earlier before examining it for about five minutes with tears in your eyes before you left it on the vanity. And now Bradley set you down, but he kept one arm around you as he picked it up. "Two lines means you're pregnant?" he asked, looking at you in reverence. 

You nodded and whispered, "Yes," and then his eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Roo."

"Sweetheart. You're pregnant," he said so softly. "We're going to have a baby."

"Yes," you confirmed as you wiped at his tears with your thumbs while he held onto the test. "I realized when I woke up that my period was late, and then I threw up. A lot. So I took the test."

He sucked in a deep, shaky breath before he kissed your forehead. "Do you remember what today is?"

You let your cheek come to rest on his chest as you said, "Of course I do. It's your mom's birthday. I already bought everything to make filet mignon and crab cakes for dinner. But I guess we ended up with a birthday present?"

With lips pressed to your hair, he muttered, "She would have loved this. She would have loved you almost as much as I do. And she would have been a good grandma."

And now you felt more tears stinging at your eyes. It had been nine months of trying for this moment, which wasn't extravagantly long in the grand scheme of things, but it had been stressful and hard on your marriage at times. Bradley was your teammate, and he'd worked as hard as you had to make sure the two of you made it back to a good place.

"Can we go to the store?" he asked suddenly. "Buy some more pregnancy tests so I can be here when you take one? And get some ginger ale if your stomach is still upset?"

"Yeah," you said with a laugh. "If you want."

"I want," he replied immediately, taking you by the hand and leading you toward the front door. His cheeks were flushed pink, and he was all smiles as he stopped on the driveway next to the Bronco and gasped. "The Bronco, Sweetheart."

"What about it?" you asked as he slowly backed you up until your butt hit the passenger side door. Bradley caged you in with a predatory glint in his eye before kissing your forehead softly. But you felt so calm as his hand slipped underneath your shirt, his thumb rubbing soft circles on your belly.

"A Bronco is the solution. It's so clear now. We'll swing by the Ford dealer after the drug store. And then we can drive home in two separate Broncos so you can take the tests. And then we can make my mom's birthday dinner."

Your lips parted, but no words came out, and Bradley dipped his head down to kiss you. He was smiling against your lips as his arms snaked around you. "Another Bronco?" you whispered. "You think?"

"Mmhmm," he hummed as his lips skimmed your cheek. "A lot more indestructible than your old thing. I'm not going to let our baby ride around in a little compact car death trap on wheels. Let's get a second Bronco."

"It wasn't that bad," you muttered, only slightly offended as you recalled the gigantic hole that he'd put in the bottom of your car with his foot. "Are you sure you don't just want to have access to drive two Broncos instead of one?"

Bradley leaned on one forearm against the door, still stroking your belly with his thumb and keeping you calm. "We need something big enough for a car seat to fit comfortably. If you don't want a Bronco, I think you should still consider another SUV. Preferably one I can actually fit in."

You looked up at his handsome and eager face, excitement bubbling under the surface of his expression. He was clearly as excited as you were about the positive test, and he just wanted you to be happy. Hell, he'd offered to drive a car back from Maine with you barely an hour ago. Before he even knew you were pregnant. You were still having a hard time wrapping your mind around it yourself. 

Tears stung your eyes, and Bradley's smile faltered a little bit. "Listen," he whispered, kissing your forehead. "Anything you want to drive, okay? Anything you want. But I think we need to look at the safety ratings and all that shit if you really want a compact car again."

"I don't want a compact car again," you hiccupped. "I was trying to tell you that earlier. We can go look at Broncos. I'm just so emotional. I can't seem to control it. But at least I know where it's coming from now."

Bradley smiled as he pulled you away from the door before opening it, and then he buckled you in. "It's coming from the little Bradshaw bun in your oven, and I couldn't be happier."

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

Even the brief walk around to the driver's side door felt like too much, because Bradley didn't want to stop touching you. As soon as he could, he slipped his hand in yours once again and smiled at you before backing out of the driveway. He'd been ready for this for a long time. He knew he'd always been a step ahead of you; his desire to date you exclusively startled you at first, but he knew pretty early on that you'd be wearing his mom's ring eventually. He was ready for this day before you were, too, but he had tried his best not to rush you here. As soon as you told him you stopped taking your birth control back in November, he was ready for you to be knocked up the next day. 

But now you were, and he was looking forward to all of it. The arguments had been worth it. The way he fucked things up before had been worth it, because both of you worked hard to fix things which told him you were unbeatable. 

"We're going to be awesome parents," he said, making you laugh as he parked at the pharmacy. When you tried to climb out your door, Bradley tugged on your hand and whispered, "Come over here. I don't want to stop touching you. I don't want to let go of you."

You willingly crawled onto his lap and let your cheek come to rest on his shoulder. "Don't let go of me."

"I won't," he promised, stroking your belly again like he just couldn't help himself. "Hey, should we call your parents this weekend and tell them the news?"

You pulled a few inches away from him with a little pout and shook your head. "I think it's too early, Bradley."

"Oh. Right," he replied, suddenly embarrassed that he wasn't sure about all of the timelines and exactly what everything meant.

"You know," you added softly. "In case something... happens to the baby. It's still so early. There's still a good chance that something could go wrong."

Bradley's body felt like it was sent into a freefall just thinking about anything happening to either of you. He held you tighter and kissed you a little rougher than he meant to, making you moan as he shook his head. "No. Don't say that." His voice was thick with emotion as he squeezed his eyes closed. "Don't say that, Baby Girl."

"Okay," you whispered, taking his face in both of your hands and caressing him with your soft and steady fingers. "I won't say it again." You kissed his lips and his scars as you pushed your fingers gently back through his hair which was probably already a mess from golfing earlier. But the more you touched him, the better he felt, and he took a few deep breaths as you said, "But I'm already so attached right now that it's a little scary. Already attached to the baby and the idea of you being a daddy."

"I am too," he promised as he opened his eyes to see you so close to him. "I'm so ready for this."

You kissed him one more time as you whispered, "I love you." And then you led him inside as he remembered all the times he played with Jeremiah and changed his diapers and read him books. Oh shit, he was so excited to have it for himself, he scooped up at least ten pregnancy tests while you laughed and chased him up to the registers. 

"Do you think that's enough?" you asked sarcastically as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. 

He picked some bottles of ginger ale out of the small refrigerator case next to the register as he said, "Listen, I missed the one from this morning, so you owe me. Just humor me, okay? I want to watch those little lines show up with my own eyes."

As he reached into his pocket for his wallet to pay for the collection of tests, he realized he was still wearing his golf clothes and shoes. In all of his excitement, he'd forgotten to change. And now he was getting excited all over again as he inserted his credit card and looked at you. Should he get you right home to take the pregnancy tests? Take you to bed and show you how attached he was, too? Visit the Ford dealer?

He groaned, knowing the Ford dealer was going to win out since he actually had your attention on the new car right now. "Here," he told you, handing you the bag as he buckled you back in again. "Drink one of the bottles so you'll have enough pee for the tests while I drive us to look at the new Broncos. Start thinking about what color you want."

"Red," you replied immediately. "It's what I had before, plus it's your favorite color."

"Fuck," Bradley practically whined, lacing his fingers with yours. "A hot, pregnant wife, a baby on the way, and two Broncos in the driveway? This might be the best day of my life so far. I don't know how much more I can handle here."

You laughed as he kissed you all over your face, resting his hand gently against your belly through your shirt. His to-do list was growing by the minute, and he was a little alarmed that his heart rate was elevated with no signs of slowing down, but every time he looked at your face he said, "I love you."

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

"It's just butter, Bradley," you said as you watched him trying his best to help you cook Carole's birthday dinner. "How are you this bad at melting butter?"

He shot you a playful glare before moving to stand behind you at the stove, wrapping his arms around you so that his hands were resting on your belly. "I'll just watch the pro then."

You shook your head, still a little startled by everything that happened today. An hour at the Ford dealership and the two of you left hand in hand after paying a deposit for the red Bronco that they were going to acquire for you from a dealer in northern California. Then you came home and took ten more pregnancy tests while Bradley sat in the bathroom with you, shooting you his big, soppy brown eyes filled with tears while he smiled. They were all positive, and they were all still lined up on the vanity, and you were pretty sure he kept occasionally sneaking off to look at them.

As you turned the crab cakes over in your cast iron pan, you whispered, "I feel like your mom is watching over us somehow."

"Oh, I have no doubt," he replied immediately, holding you a little tighter and nudging your sore breasts. "Goose, too. But especially her, on her birthday. She'd have been a mess over this news."

You set the spatula down and had to close your eyes. Your hormones were all over the place, and this was the thing that sent you immediately into a fit of body wracking sobs. "What's wrong?" Bradley asked with concern, turning you around and inspecting your hands. "Did you burn yourself?"

"No," you wailed. "I'm just so happy, but it's not fair that your parents aren't here. Like I can deal with the fact that I never got to meet them, but this is so not fair! And I'm sorry, but I can't control my emotions at all."

He pulled you closer and let you cry, kissing your ear and whispering that everything was going to be okay. As you got your breathing under control, he said, "If you're this emotional at like five and a half weeks, I guess I better buckle in for the ride."

You glared up at him before he leaned down to kiss your tears away with a smile, and you let him take the brownies out of the oven and load a plate with dinner. With your hand held in his, Bradley carried the meal to the table, but he led you to the piano instead of one of the chairs. 

"Remember how to play it?" he asked softly as he took a seat and patted the bench next to him. You needed a short tutorial, but he was as patient as ever as he reminded you of the notes. Then you helped him play and sing Happy Birthday to Carole even though it wasn't perfect, and at the end he whispered, "Thanks, mom. Let's go eat, Baby Girl."

You sat perched on his lap like always, mouth watering as you looked at the steak and crab cakes. Everything looked amazing, and you were starving. "How does it taste?" you asked as Bradley took three bites of dinner in rapid succession. 

"Fucking incredible," he replied as you cut yourself a piece of steak. It was buttery and delicious, and it practically melted in your mouth. You moaned as you tried the crab cakes, and they were pretty good, too. About halfway through the meal your stomach lurched, and you turned to look at Bradley. 

He smiled at you as you shook your head and said, "Oh no." You practically fell off of his lap as you ran for the hallway bathroom, barely making it in time to empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet. He was right behind you, rubbing your back as you sat down hard on the floor and caught your breath. 

"This is a pregnancy thing, right?" he asked softly. "Morning sickness?"

You nodded. "I think so. I was going to call my doctor on Monday anyway and tell her about my positive tests, but I'll tell her about this, too."

Bradley collected you in his arms and asked, "Are you hungry?"

"Starving," you whined, letting your forehead come to rest against his sternum. 

"I have an idea," he replied. A few minutes later, you were sitting on the couch with a plate of crackers smeared with peanut butter in your hand and the trash can on the floor in front of you. Bradley finished eating the plate of Carole's birthday dinner, and now he was working on cleaning up the kitchen while he dug into the tray of brownies. You gingerly bit into one of the crackers, and your stomach growled but didn't lurch. So you kept going. 

It took you an hour, but you finished the whole plate as you thought about how things would change around here with a baby involved. Nothing seemed too startling though, probably because you'd been subconsciously looking forward to this for such a long time. You knew Bradley was as well. And the way he came out to check on you several times as he cleaned up the house had you swooning over your husband a little bit.

You shared the last cracker with Tramp and then stood to take your plate to the kitchen where Bradley was leaning on the island looking at his phone. "What are you doing?" you asked him.

He looked up at you and blushed a little bit. "Looking at crib bedding," he replied, and you practically tossed the plate at the sink before hurrying to his arms. "You feeling better?"

You nodded. "Crib bedding?" You were instantly melting into his touch. 

"Yeah. I thought we could do airplanes?" 

You whimpered against his muscular chest as he pocketed his phone. "Yes, Roo, we can do airplanes."

He rubbed your back as you tucked your hands up inside the golf shirt he had been wearing all day and let your fingers skim along his abs. "I'm just really excited about this," he said, voice full of emotion. "All the baby stuff. And a nursery. I was already thinking about finishing the attic, but now we should definitely do it so your parents can stay up there when they visit their grandchild. And we can get those convertible car seats for both Broncos. And we should probably start looking at daycares before the baby is born. Like the really good daycares, you know?"

"Oh fuck," you moaned as you looked up at him. "Bradley. You're incredible." You rubbed yourself against the fly of his white pants, and both of his eyebrows shot up.

"You want to?" he rasped, and you started pulling him toward the bedroom. "Last time we had sex, I hurt you, Sweetheart. I don't want to do that again."

"You won't," you promised as you tugged off his shirt. "You won't, because I know what's going on now."

He nodded and reached for his pants zipper as you quickly got yourself undressed and climbed into bed. Bradley watched you as he struggled with his shoes and socks before he could take his pants off, and the two of you shared a laugh. Then you bit your lip as his hard cock sprung free, practically vibrating with anticipation as he plopped down on the bed on his back. 

"Come here," he whispered, but when you started to straddle his hips, he shook his head. "No. Up here." You leaned down to kiss him, and he welcomed you with a smile on his face, but after his tongue tangled with yours he broke the kiss. "I want you to sit on my face."

"Oh," you gasped as he reached for your butt and pulled you up until you were straddling his neck. Then his mouth was on you, and you were reaching for the headboard with one hand as your fingers grasped Bradley's curls with the other. He was so gentle, kissing up and down your most intimate parts before separating you with his nose. "Oh my god," you whined as he nudged your clit and looked up at you before starting to suck. 

You were already pulsing around nothing, your fingernails scraping along his scalp as you rolled your hips gently against his mouth. Bradley licked you up and back before sucking gently again. The more aroused you got, the more your boobs hurt, but it wasn't as bad as last time. Not when his mouth was doing everything to make you wetter as he gently ran his hands along the backs of your thighs and your butt.

It would have come as no surprise to you if he told you that you were dripping wet now as you whispered, "I want your cock."

Bradley practically growled as he released you, his mouth glistening as he licked his lips. "Only if I'm not going to hurt you," he reiterated, voice deep and gravelly as you moved further down his body. "Stop me if I am."

You lifted his length and slipped him slowly inside you as he grunted and propped himself up on one hand. "Feels good," you promised him as you pushed and pushed until he was fully seated. His eyes were big pools as he hesitated a bit before kissing the valley between your breasts, his lips feather light. And that was exactly what you needed as he brought his other hand up to your belly. 

"I love you," he whispered, letting his lips barely caress your nipple as you rocked slowly. "I love you so much, Sweetheart." 

When his tongue grazed your breast, you whined for more, so he took your nipple between his lips. Instead of sucking, he let his tongue drift along lazily as you barely rocked your hips backward and forward, playing with his hair. "I love you, Daddy," you told him as you smirked. 

He looked up at you as he released your breast and gently started to lick your left one as you cupped his cheek. Between kisses and soft nuzzles, Bradley poured his heart out to you as you enjoyed the feel of him, thick and delicious inside you.

"I'll take care of both of you. Always. I'm going to love you forever. I'll never stop. You're perfect. So fucking perfect. I can't get enough. I can't wait for everything."

You were barely moving on his cock when you came hard, your nipples wet to the cool air from his saliva and your fingers gripping his hair. "Bradley. Bradley. Bradley," you panted, squeezing him so tight as you pulsed around him. 

He grunted, watching your face as he let himself come undone, too. He was still breathing heavily as he leaned back against the pillows, and you sank down on top of him. "I didn't hurt you?"

"Not at all," you promised. "My breasts are so tender, but that felt amazing."

"Got it," he whispered, nodding as he wrapped his arms around you. Very slowly you let your body press to his, careful to get into a position that didn't make you want to wince. "I can be extra gentle," he promised. "I can be anything you need. Anything either of you need."

A chill rippled through your body at his words, because you knew they were true. You leaned up and looked at his handsome face, cheeks flushed and lips softly parted. When you kissed him, he tasted like you. His softening cock was still inside you, but neither of you made any move to get cleaned up quite yet.

"You can't stop touching me, can you?"

"I can, Sweetheart. I just don't want to," he replied softly from where he had his face buried against your neck. "Hey, we should go to bed early since you've been so tired. Maybe the baby needs the extra sleep."

"Oh," you gasped, pulling back and examining his face. "Early." You figured you had to be between five and six weeks pregnant, but the last time you had your period, it had come early. 

"What?"

Your mind was swirling as you did the math, and a smile broke out on your face. 

"What?" he asked again, looking at you in puzzlement.

If your period had been early, then you were probably only still ovulating for the very first day that Bradley had been home from his special mission. You started laughing as you kissed him over and over again before rolling onto your back and cracking up. 

"Tell me," he said, rolling to his side next to you as he started laughing, too.

"Oh my god, Roo," you wheezed. "I think you got me pregnant when you totaled my car."

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

A BABY!! A BRADSHAW BUN IN THE OVEN! MOM AND DAD! Do you want to read more of the pregnancy adventure? I hope so. The fact that this has been planned out for the past year is just wild to me, and I'm so happy I got to share it with you. Thanks for everything @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 28

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[undercoverpena]

1. butterscotch orange

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter one of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.3k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over <redacted>. frankie being a single!dad to a son. coffee date. an: it is finally here! this little thing has rotted me from the inside out and nothing brings me more joy than a romcom. so here we go. buckle in. all hail @secretelephanttattoo for the wondrous idea and support (seriously thank you, i know you know ily, but i don't think I've been this happy writing something in so long). a thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who i forced to read this when we had our sleepover, ily.

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics [winks]

IF I CAN DO IT, ANYONE CAN DO IT. ALL YOU NEED—

It rings, echoes through your skull.

Has been doing so the whole ride over—your groan doing nothing to dilute it, even as you kill the engine of your car and are welcomed with silence.

There’s an element of regret you feel thrumming in you since discovering that perky voice, her high-pitched excitement becoming the bane of your existence. Forever replaying in your head. Regardless of whether it is actually playing. It remains on a loop in your mind—all light and sweet—grating on you from the amount you’ve had to watch it, just to get to this stage.

Realistically, you know you shouldn’t hate the voice, because it has been helpful—in that effortlessly playful way that’s kind of begun to fuck you off.

But then, you’re not even sure if any voice would fare much better. Because you just don’t feel like it’s just that easy—so possible, all simple and quick to do.

Because DIY apparently isn't that trouble-free for you. The bandaids on your palm, fingers, and forearm are proof of it.

Yet, somehow you’re outside of a hardware store.

One that Google promises will have all you need and more. Not that you know what that is.

The only thing you do know is that it at least gives you another reason to focus on something other than the mountain of boxes that never end. The ones not unpacked. In the home that’s now only slowly beginning to feel more like yours, and not the people you purchased it from.

Eyes flicking over the front of the store, the clutter of things all left outside—in judging various shades of buckets and plastic garden chairs—before your eyes land on the door to Harold’s Hardware.

There’s no breeze, but the door moves ever so slightly. Sitting, slightly ajar, as though once—a long time ago—it fit in the frame perfectly, but now remained warped and unwilling to even try. Then there’s the glass, all smeared and sitting inside (what you assume) would have been a bright-white frame that’s slightly yellowed and has been adorned in scuffs, swinging in its layered overuse.

But, at least it’s visited, you think. Shoving open the door, a bell sounds in some distant corner, ringing, it almost muffled by the voice from the video continuing to play in the space between your ears—a to-do list, a handful of items required, listing themselves on a never-ending loop, the billionth play through since you’d woken up.

It’s so much bigger inside than you banked on. Jaw-ticking to the side, eyes marvelling at the floor-to-ceiling display and the array of things all living and existing under hanging signs that appear worn and peeling.

With each second, more and more of the charm comes to you.

That there’s a radio, crackling away, a song from decades gone by playing with difficulty, as an array of scents swirl, fighting themselves for your attention. But, two stand out, fresh-cut wood and lemon disinfectant. The latter you assume kills dirt but doesn’t make the floor tiles gleam in the way they once did. Scuff marks adorning well-walked paths. But the former, you gravitate more to, wish for it to fill your nose and remain with you long after your visit.

Adjusting the strap of your bag, you glance about again, almost fidgeting your feet in your shoes, before it dawns on you. Slams into you as you flick your gaze from sign to sign—

You haven’t got a clue about where to start.

Listing the things from memory—suddenly distant and difficult to find amongst the dooming overwhelm—as your feet begin moving of their own accord. Choosing an aisle, selecting it—all eeny-meeny-miny-mo.

Because better that, than standing aimless, lost. Watched on some flickering CCTV in the back where you assume the person who works here is.

Dragging your eyes, scanning them up and down, taking in the varying types of paint brushes, different thicknesses, different intentions. Moving from single purchase to grouped, to multi-packs, and landing finally on rollers before you’re turning, heading down an entirely different aisle.

The next isn’t any less overwhelming.

If anything, it’s more, because it’s at least more of what you needed.

Screws, bolts, fixings.

Your brain assessing, attempting to assemble whether a bolt is what you need, a screw or—

“You need a hand?”

It throws you off, the voice.

Cuts through your processing, through the low replays of the video (the ones only in your head) and the cracking radio which has moved into an advert for migraines.

It’s low, a slight gravel that he rids with a clear of his throat as you look over your shoulder, eyes sweeping over the owner of the voice, eventually turning to face him.

And fuck.

He’s broad, dressed in a deep green t-shirt under a tan apron—name badge scratched over, only leaving the lingering marks of a “here to help” and the fading logo you’d seen outside.

You don’t mean to gawk, but yet you do all the same.

Practically swallowing, attempting to whir your brain into gear as you take in the rest of him. The thick loose curls atop his head, the strong nose and the round-brown eyes. His moustache, the wiry facial hair across his chin he slowly begins to scrape at, as he remains waiting for a response.

“Screws.”

“You… you need screws?”

Nodding, you will your brain to work, to function. But, he’s just so—

Lifting his chin, he runs his thumb up and down the underside of his chin, waiting, waiting, until he smiles. “Do you know the kind?”

Think. Think. Fucking think.

And then you do. Somehow able to unspool some thoughts, find sentences. Beginning to explain, in barely-there pauses and animated hand gestures about your move, and your new lease of life, and this video you found and how you felt inspired by it to the point it had led you to order wood cut to size and tools from the internet, but screws, screws and this and that are all that you’d forgotten.

And, he listens. Sliding a hand over the sleeve of his sun-scorched tee as he does. Just nodding on occasion. Thin lines appear along his forehead at certain parts of the story, but nonetheless listening.

“Show me.”

“Show… you?”

Then he smiles. Soft, it slides up in a slow, almost cautious way, but then it’s at his eyes, touching, brushing itself there and sending sparks up into the darker brown flecks.

Licking his lips, he gestures, “The video.”

You do.

A quick shuffle in your pocket, a slide to unlock your phone and then your fingers are brushing his. They’re warm, his. That you can tell.

Heat radiating from them, slowly blanketing yours as his hand and yours cradle the phone like a newborn in an announcement photo.

From there, your chest tightens, more so when you meet his eyes, finding them watching you as intently as you wish to look at him, and it makes your heart stammer, skip—a full chaos of beats following before he’s holding your phone independently.

That’s when a new crisis calls. A new thought is all set to erode your mind.

Because your phone looks tiny in his hand.

The plastic case is almost dwarfed by him as he tips his chin, watching the video, occasionally tapping at the screen to skip ahead before he nods to himself, you all but busy trying not to choke on your own drool.

“I know what you need.”

“You do?”

A foolish question, all escaping without thought or rationale.

He just smiles, in a way that seems to settle your incoming anxiousness.

“I do.”

And he does.

A tilt of his head, his back turned to you, a brief thought crossing your brain at the sight but you quickly rid, and you’re following. Listening as he explains, as he points out things with his long, thick finger, as you nod, as though nothing lives in the space between both of your ears.

It isn’t until you’re back in your car that it hits you. Do you suddenly wish as your engine ignites and your car roars to life, that you had asked for his number—or better yet, his name.

It’s been days, and you’re still wondering if some part of you’d concocted him, made him up—thrown up an illusion of a man and exaggerated how good he looked.

The more you thought about him, the more insane it got. Even hearing yourself explain it to a friend made you question if you'd been dreaming. That maybe you’d let days mould him, shaping perfection in your consciousness.

It has more weight when you walk past the older man at the till, all white hair in a slick-back style and who tips his head and looks more what you’d expect from the decor of the place.

But a part, one fighting, scrapping for a moment to exist, still believes. Hopes.

Forcing your legs to wander down aisles you don’t need, pausing at each corner, desiring to be proven wrong. Hovering, hoping—half-wondering if it was essential that to make him appear, you had to look lost and hopeless—or whether that had just been a coincidence that first time.

With each up and down, you almost give up. Hope almost gone, erasing itself with each step, all but fading.

But there, in the centre of the paint aisle, speckled in dried flecks, it clinging in varying shades—a kaleidoscope dream on his jeans and worn t-shirt—is him. The man you haven't stopped thinking about.

"It's you."

"It's me," you grin, heat flooding your cheeks, growing up into your neck.

Arm lifting, hand brushing the back of his curls not housed in a cap, as he matches your grin. "New project?"

"Something like that."

His gaze doesn't waver, doesn't lessen, not as his grin slopes into a shy smile, before he wipes his hand on his jeans, offering it out. "Realised... I never... I'm Frankie, by the way."

You hand him your name, dropping an octave as you do—all unmeaning, entirely accidental—fingers sliding past his as you shake his hand.

“I don’t… you’ve not got your apron on.”

Glancing down, you find him grinning when he looks up, “Not my day today. Here on personal business.”

“Oh is…” squinting at the paint can in his hand, “Butterscotch Orange on a hit list or something?”

His lips slide into his cheek, a tooth-filled smirk. “Should be, it’s a right bitc—pain in the ass to sell.”

Rolling your lips, you trace your tongue across your teeth as you grin. “It’s no…” eyes squinting. “Mt Rainier Grey.”

His brow arches. “That your shade of choice?”

“I like it—don’t hate the orange though. So, maybe it’s not the paint, but the seller.”

Something twinkles in his eye, lips still cocked to one side, smirk still ever-present.

And it’s a challenge to drag your eyes to look at the floor, you shift your weight. Trying, and failing, to think of an excuse, to leave before it gets weird—before you become too much and ruin this nondescript thing. But, his throat clearing stops you. It forces your chin up. Barely just able to catch it, the whisper, how it’s almost said to the can in his hand than to you.

“You… doing anything right now?”

Shaking your head slowly, you bite your cheek as you grin. “Just talking to a man holding a paint can.”

Tapping his fingers along the top, lips rolling, “You fancy getting a coffee? With me?”

You have to bite your smile, out of fear you’ll show how practically beaming you are. Mouth opening, but he adds an addition of I don’t usually do this that makes your lips curl into a smirk.

“What? Invite random customers for coffee or accost them with paint you can’t sell?”

Biting his upper lip, he shakes his head, tucking a curl behind his ear as your eyes glance over at them. How they glisten under the yellow-fluorescent light.

Letting your heart dance like leaves in the wind. “I’d love to get coffee with you, Frankie.”

It’s nice, the coffee place.

Not a far walk, a few doors down. The charm of it coaxes you in with sounds of crunching beans and strong scents of varying levels of caffeine sliding over and relaxing your shoulders from your ears.

Because suddenly you’re nervous.

A slight shake to your bones, a twitch of your fingers.

“Let me get this.”

Smiling, you find him watching you, not caring to drag his eyes away when you catch him.

“Because you never do this or because you’re hoping to persuade me to buy your unsellable paint?”

Smirking, he traces his eyes over you, “Both.”

The corner of his mouth slides back into his cheek, a dimple appearing, deepening—one you want to brush over with your thumb the longer he keeps looking at you the way he does.

All dark eyes, beedy, but sparkling.

'Who's next?' breaks the spell. Shatters the magic. It forces you both to blink, to focus on the task at hand. Both orders said, whirring and crunching sounding as you admire the place, glaze over the menu until he’s nudging you.

With your order in hand and tucked away in the corner—the large window letting in light and warmth from the sun on your back—you try not to moan at the taste of your drink once it hits your tongue.

Because it’s good. Brilliant, practically everything.

To the point you have to bite back a thank you, one that you feel would be never-ending, a constant swirl of words landing on the circular table between the two of you. Nothing napkins and good conversation could soak up.

Because good coffee is always great, but knowing where to find it in an unknown place is something else.

Distantly, you hear him say your name, chin dipped, eyes focused, realising—in a flood of embarrassment—he’s been talking to you.

“Sorry?”

“I said, I’ve not seen you in the store before…”

Swallowing, you take a steadying breath.

“You don’t have to…”

But, you do all the same. You pour open small bits of truth, words falling, tumbling half-strung together as your history rolls out in a timeline in front of you both. How you’d bought a new place, that it’s a bit run down, seen better days—a determination to prove friends wrong by doing it yourself.

Foolish, you comment with a shake of your head, I know fuck all about decorating.

And he listens—to the fact you’re alone, not even a pet; he listens even as you talk about your work, all boring, not entirely interesting. The two of you simply lost in one another, surrounded by coffee mug swirls and the sounds of sizzling food, coffee shop noises and mumbling daytime talk as you ask him about work, about his love for orange shades.

And your eyes glance down at his phone, how it’s turned over—his all undivided attention given to you—yet your eyes linger on the phone case. The one with a drawing, likely in pencil, a man in a hat on a hill, a child next to him and a sun with a smile on its face.

“I… I have a kid. Luca—shared custody,” he says, nodding, tongue peeking out between his teeth, hands leaving the table and wiping back on his jeans in slow slides up and down. “He… he made it me.”

It’s the grin that makes your heart swell.

Makes your hand cup your mug a little tighter so you don’t offer it out to him to hold, a thing which feels so natural, no thought required. Except you don’t know his last name—barely know a thing about him.

Yet, your body practically leans forward as you mirror the smile—all soft, as another piece of a missing puzzle sliding into place.

“Does he like drawing?”

Laughing, his palm slides along his jaw. “Loves it.”

“How old?”

“Five—does that… does that bother you?”

“That you’re a dad?” He nods, and you lick your lips, you make sure to hold his gaze. “Not in the slightest.”

You smile, watching him mirror you this time. It rushes out, kissing across every bit of his face—a shyness soon fluttering over him before he clears his throat.

“So, you freelance? You like being your own boss?”

“Not especially, but it does mean I can work at night.”

Nodding, he slides his hand around the white porcelain, hand practically dwarfing the mug. It makes you want to ask him to hold things, to see if IKEA pencils or children’s eating utensils look more ridiculous than your iPhone and a regular coffee mug.

“Prefer the night?”

“I prefer the quiet of it... to think. It’s why… why I began trying to do something in the day, needed to still be busy.”

“Sitting still not an option, Rainier Gray?”

Shrugging, you smile. “Says you Butterscotch and your three tins of unsellable paint in the bed of your truck.”

“You got me there.”

“I just… like to be busy, and with the new house, no partner—commitments, I thought why not try a bit of DIY.”

Nodding, he lifts his mug, and takes a sip—eyes remaining fixed on you as he does, as though it buys him time, lets him think up an opinion, an assessment. It makes your skin warm, but for all the uncomfortable reasons, the panicking ones—parts of you beginning to catastrophise that you’ve said the wrong thing.

“Open up your Instagram.”

You stare, blinking.

“Trust me.”

And you do. With another fumble, another slide of your phone screen open, and you follow his instructions as you type in the spelling he gives you. When you click the page, it’s hard not to grin, to not have your face explode into a smile so large it cuts into your cheeks.

“I don’t like to sit still either,” Frankie adds, as though the thousand photos and videos, the tutorials and follower count don’t say that on their own.

You’ve fallen down a hole—willingly.

It cracked open the moment you’d sat on your couch, drink in hand, blanket half over your body.

The moment you’d begun your scroll, you discovered you couldn’t stop. Starting with the latest and moving back, until you realise you’d rather see the story in the way it happened.

Choosing a moment, almost nine months ago, before you work your way forward to the present.

You were cautious, more careful than needed, to not like anything too late—to not give away how deep into his page you’d gone. Even if you were in awe, a little proud—your cheeks a little warm and lips turned up into your cheek—as you saw in real-time his confidence grow. The way he’d look at the camera, began experimenting with angles, all in all being smoother, more happy.

You suppose that’s why you type a comment under one picture:

Is that butterscotch orange in the flesh? 🟠

Stalking me are you?

Getting some tips from Mr DIY himself.

I know you went back some months, Rainy.

How do you know that?

Because as soon as you commented that’s what I did. You looked nice at the beach.

Now who’s the stalker, Butterscotch.

Me. Clearly. I’m being very upfront about it.

Out of interest, do you tutor at all? Gives hands on help to beginner DIYers?

You genuinely asking or flirting?

Big-headed much?

I can help you with something if you need it.

I think I do.

Then I’m yours. Don’t worry, I promise to only snoop in your drawers when left alone.

Think we should get food first, show you what I’m thinking—make sure you’re up to the task.

You asking me on a date?

No. But if you keep showing off tools topless I’ll be tempted to ask you.

Knew you’d gone back further than a month.

FRANKIE’S INSTAGRAM 🌝

NEXT CHAPTER

an: you do not understand how giddy i am about this series. the chapters have flown out of me. i hope you enjoy it half as much as i'm enjoying writing it. see you soon xx

[reiding-writing]

Idk if u ever write this or not but... i've been thinking abt this lately....... spencer and reader debating about "kissing is a lot more hygienic than shaking hands" and they just suddenly kiss afterwards AHHHH I DONT KNOW IF YOU GET MY POINT but thats that

acceptable greetings [ s.r ]

Summary:

Spencer is an avid believer that kissing is a better greeting than shaking hands. You’re not convinced at his notion of it being ‘completely acceptable’, and in attempting to prove him wrong, you end up proving something else.

WARNINGS: n/a

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: 100% fluff

wc: 1.5k

masterlist!!

a/n: here is my immediate apology for the sheer amount of angst in my last fic i love you guys please don’t hate me 🫶

“Kissing is so much more hygienic than shaking hands,”

Spencer’s expression matched his statement, confident in his assessment and unwilling to back down on his stance of not wanting to shake hands with other people.

“It’s unhygienic,” He would say, “There are hundreds of undiscovered bacterial colonies that live on people’s hands,”

“That doesn’t change the fact that kissing somebody is not an acceptable greeting Spencer,” You arbitrarily turn your swivel chair back and forth with your foot as a pivot, rolling your eyes as you lean your head over the back of your chair.

You’d been talking about this topic for almost half an hour, your file assessment of your most recent case forgotten on your desk as you debate with Spencer as he sat directly opposite you.

“Several European countries use kissing as a customary greeting,” Of course he had a rebuttal to your comment. “It actually dates back to the Romans, who, as my original statement supports, used it as a way to stop diseases from spreading between people during social greetings,”

His face told you that he was singing his own glory in his head, victory written in the small wrinkle in his eyebrow and the quirk of his smile.

If he wasn’t so cute when he looked at you like that you’re sure you would’ve found something else to say. Something to continue this debate of yours and satisfy the competitiveness riddling your brain.

But instead you opt to let him revel in his ‘victory’, rolling your eyes as a soft “Whatever,” rolls off your tongue.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You were going to prove your point.

You might think Spencer is perfectly sweet and innocent in his ways, but that didn’t stop that tiny voice in the back of your head that told you that you could win that debate you were having the day before.

You entered the bullpen with an agenda. You walked out of the elevator with your head held high and your eyes fixed on the fluffy brown mess decorating the back of Spencer’s head.

You clear your throat when you meet him, and he turns around with that perfectly innocent expression on his face, echoing a soft “Good morning,” at you that only amplifies his perfectness and makes you want to prove him wrong even more.

You don’t consult him before you lean in to press your lips to his face.

It’s a short, chaste kiss that’s pressed to the apple of his cheek.

It lasts less than a second.

And yet Spencer’s face immediately flushes a bright red that would make anyone passing by think that you’d suggested the two of you strip naked in the middle of the office.

“I- What was that for?-” His voice wavers like he was catching his breath from running up a flight of stairs, blinking rapidly at you like clearing his vision was going to provide him with the answer to his question.

“Not such an acceptable greeting after all hm?”

It takes him a second to realise what you’re talking about, but your smug expression and the way you cross your arms over your chest sends him back to the conversation he was having with you yesterday and his face turns from confusion to begrudging acknowledgment.

“It is a perfectly acceptable greeting when both parties are aware it is going to happen,” He sighs along with his response, mirroring you as he crosses his arms to try and resemble having some sort of composure.

He intentionally left out the part where even if he knew you were going to kiss him he would still flush red like a traffic light.

That his palms would still sweat and his vest would suddenly become uncomfortably hot on his torso.

But that was because you were- well, you.

So his point still stood.

“God you really do have an answer to everything don’t you?” The slight tilt of your head and the still very apparent smile on your face told him that despite your words you weren’t angry or annoyed at his response.

You more looked like you’d been presented with a freshly scrambled rubix cube to solve and add to the collection on your desk.

And that look on your face only proved to crack his composure even more.

“Well- I have done extensive research on the subject, so I therefore have had chance to form a fully educated opinion of the matter,”

True to form, his explanation was smart, logical, mixed in with that adorable awkwardness as he continued to reel from his earlier flustering.

Your chuckles grace his ears with no objection, and he soon find himself smiling softly alongside you as your attitude rubs off on him.

“You’re so cute,”

But when you call him cute, Spencer Reid finally, fully cracks because that is the sweetest goddamn thing he’s ever heard in his life.

Spencer’s smile reaches his eyes, the flush on his cheeks returning with a vengeance at your words and causing him to feel hot once more despite the AC blowing at a comfortable cool temperature.

You hold up a finger in front of you that his eyes follow with a confused knit in his eyebrow, and then you’re jogging back towards the elevator with his confusion only growing at every step you make.

His eyebrows continue to furrow as you walk back towards him again with that determined look that paints your face whenever you’re knee-deep in a profile, and he raises and eyebrow as you come to a stop in front of him once more.

“Good morning Spencer, i’m going to kiss you as a greeting now,”

Spencer’s face relaxes at your words as he understands what you’re doing. That you’re trying to prove his previous statement untrue by declaring your intentions beforehand and still having the interaction be unsuitable as a greeting.

He thinks he knows what you have planned, and he prepares himself for your lips to press against his cheek, to suppress the kaleidoscope of butterflies that would inevitably stir in his stomach at your contact so that he could hold his ground.

He thinks he knows what’s coming.

But oh is he wrong.

Your lips miss the apple of his cheek by a large margin, landing square on his mouth and causing his eyes to fly wide open at the new sensation.

If your lips weren’t pressed to his he’s sure his jaw would’ve fallen slack.

And that’s exactly what happens when you pull away from him a few seconds later, a delicate flush on your cheeks that contrasts the bright red covering his face like a warning sign of his shattered composure.

You stifle a small chuckle at his expression with your hand, tilting your head in a exaggeratedly innocent way. “What’s wrong Spencer? I thought kissing was an acceptable greeting when ‘both parties are aware it’s going to happen’,”

You reiterate his own words back to him, mimicking his tone in your explanation as you watch him blink at you with a blankly flabbergasted expression, completely shut down in every sense of the word.

An IQ of 187 slashed down to 60 as Emily would say.

His astoundment lasts for a whole 20 seconds before he brings himself back to reality through a series of rapid blinks, doing nothing more than leaning it to finish the space between you once more.

It’s times like this where Spencer is glad that the two of you were both chronically early to work.

That he wouldn’t have to deal with the ramifications of his actions through his coworkers.

That he didn’t have to endure Morgan’s teasing as he stood there with his hands holding either side of your face and his lips pressed against yours with a gentle but insistent pressure.

You were more than happy to accept his advances, internally singing your own praises at finally finding an excuse to kiss those perfect pink lips of his, and have him return it no less.

He breaks the moment after a few seconds, his hands still securely cupping your face towards him as he stumbles out a half-assed explanation for his actions.

“It’s- It’s polite to return somebody’s greeting with one of your own-”

You nod with a suppressed smile against the hold of his hands.

Maybe kissing your coworkers was an acceptable greeting after all.

Or, at least for the coworker you’d been pining after.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Hi, I was wondering if you still accept requests because I read your Wonka fics and find them very cute and wanted to ask if I could also make a request. And that is that the reader has sleep problems and asks Willy finally what she can do about it as soon as she no longer knows what to do and he makes a certain chocolate for her so that she can sleep better again? (Something fluffy please) Thank you!

A sweet remedy [W. W]

Willy Wonka x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

note: I'm sorry it took me so long, these weeks I was covering a full shift and with the holidays I barely had time to do anything, but I'm back now! And I hope you like it

taglist: @dyieying @reallysparklychaos [Timothée masterlist]

While you were scrubbing one of the most difficult sheets you had had to wash during the day you felt your eyelids begin to close, at first little by little, and at times completely. It wasn't until you fell against the tub full of soapy water and stood up with a scream at the temperature that you realized you really had a problem.

"What happened? Are you okay?" Piper asked, immediately approaching while you struggled to keep the detergent from getting into your eyes and mouth.

“Yes, everything is fine,” you lied. Everyone had already gathered around you and shame was taking over your body. “I just… I slipped"

“Here's a towel,” said a familiar and loving voice, which belonged to your recent but quite dear friend.

Willy approached you and wrapped the towel around you, carefully, while he helped you clean your face. Once you could see more clearly you noticed that everyone seemed worried and you honestly didn't blame them. Your face reflected the lack of sleep you had had during the last few weeks, coming from a previously unknown cause. The only thing you knew was that the insomnia was literally killing you.

"Are you sure you are alright?" now Abacus murmured. You nodded again and smiled at everyone, imploring them to let the moment pass.

When you were dry enough you continued with your tasks, but you could feel your friend's dissatisfied gaze from across the room, as if he were the only one unwilling to ignore your recent strange behaviors: you were distracted, you seemed to leave mentally out of nowhere and this wasn't the first incident where you practically passed out on a dangerous surface.

At some point you had to carry a cart of sheets to the drying area and that's when he hurried to follow you.

“Let me help you,” he exclaimed, smiling in your direction as he held the cart you were pushing.

“I'm fine,” you said, to reassure him, because you knew that he had approached you to monitor your mood.

One by one you took out the sheets and began to put them in the dryer. The process would take a while, so you guys had a few minutes to chat, after all you knew the others wouldn't mind.

You leaned against the old machine, feeling the vibration on your lower back, and he did the same. The distance was so close that your hip was touching his, turning any conversation into a private one.

“Are you sick or something? We can get a doctor, if so”

“I'm sick, but I don't think it's that kind of illness,” you sighed.

"What do you mean?"

It was useless to keep hiding things from him, and who knows... that ingenious mind might even find a solution.

“I can't sleep, Willy. I don't understand why I can't, but I've had problems with that. I think it's called insomnia, or something like that” you began to explain, crossing your arms as if you wanted to protect yourself from the vulnerability “And it's horrible and it makes me feel stupid. I mean, who can't do something as easy as sleep?”

“Sometimes I don't get it either. There is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Yes, I know, but…” you started moving your hands in the air, trying to find the right words to express yourself, “it's different. And I don't know what to do anymore, I can't sleep during the day because we work and I honestly feel like I'm going to collapse at any moment.”

Even though he was listening to you attentively, he didn't know how to respond for a moment.

“Do you think I look very bad?” you continued “You know, like… physically?”

“No, I think you look beautiful,” he replied, without thinking too much about it. “Maybe there's a little more pigmentation here…” his thumb slid under your eyes, in the place of your dark circles, and you smiled involuntarily “but nothing to worry about.”

You were reassured that you were still pretty in your friend's eyes, but you knew that the worried look on his face wasn’t in vain. You had to do something about it.

“Perhaps among your curiosities you have some chocolate that helps me sleep?” you joked, speaking only to the air.

But on his face you saw that expression of machination that suddenly emerged, almost as if a light bulb appeared over his head at the idea that was going through his head.

"Not yet. But it's an excellent idea."

“Oh, I wasn't serious…”

“But it’s brilliant,” he interrupted you. The dryer stopped and you knew the drying cycle was over, as should your conversation “Give me some time and you can sleep like a baby, I promise.”

That was perhaps his favorite thing: making promises. And of course, comply with them.

You wanted to answer him something, but a yawn preceded you and the man simply laughed at the irony of the moment.

“I guess I can't refuse now, can I?”

“As soon as I manage to do it, you will have it in your hands,” he said, excited.

With that the talk ended and you began to hang the clothes on a rope, returning to the day's work, but now with a better spirit in the hope that Willy could help you get what you wanted so much.

"Special delivery?" someone knocked on your door. You were like every night, just curled up in bed to hope for the best.

Willy was holding a small purple box with a red bow, which judging by the excited smile your friend had, you assumed was the remedy for your illness.

"It will work?"

“I hope so,” he said, entering your room to sit next to you on the mattress. “I'll stay here for a few minutes to make sure you can sleep and then I'll leave, is that okay with you?”

“It's excellent,” you answered nervously, while you took the candy that your friend had made especially for you. It was shaped like a small moon and glowed inside. “What is it made of?”

“I'll tell you in the morning, when you wake up.”

His feet moved slightly, showing his excitement, and that seemed to rub off on you. Glory seemed so close and you could reach it with a couple of bites, but before that you leaned down to wrap the boy in a hug.

“Thank you for trying this for me. I know it will work, but… even if it doesn't work, you know I appreciate it.”

“Don't say that, it will work” he replied, with complete confidence.

Without further ado, you put the candy in your mouth and tasted it. You couldn't identify any ingredients, but it tasted delicious and cozy, somehow. Although you wanted to compliment your friend's work just a second after the candy had melted on your tongue, you were already feeling how everything around you was becoming heavy, as if the accumulated fatigue had hit you suddenly.

You were already unconscious when Willy trapped you in his arms and laid you carefully on the bed, completely happy to see that his creation had had such an immediate effect. As a farewell, he covered you with a sheet and kissed your forehead, going to his room to recreate an entire jar of chocolates that would ensure your rest for long enough.

[smoft-demons]

Can he deal with a spider for you?

_______

(All seven brothers. Reader is afraid of spiders and asks him to get rid of one for them)

_______

Lucifer

He’s not scared of spiders, absolutely he can do it.

He might be exasperated about being dragged away from his work for such a minor thing, but if you’re genuinely terrified he’ll get it done for you with nothing more than a sigh.

I can’t imagine he would bother to spend the extra time on capturing and releasing, so he’d just crush it.

But he WOULD bother to spend the time to help you calm down after it’s dead, if you’re still freaked out. Annoyed he may be, but he still loves you.

He helps. He gives really good hugs.

Plus, it’s pretty hard to stay scared when you have Lucifer on your side. Nothing in all three realms can out-scary Lucifer. There’s nowhere safer than under his protection.

All in all, he’s capable and efficient, makes you feel safe, but loses points for being annoyed about it lol

7/10

Mammon

He’s afraid of many things, but spiders are not one of them, I think. It’s not uncommon to see spider motifs in casinos and such, so I think he can stand to look at them.

He can do it. He’s not even annoyed to be called on, he likes having opportunities to protect you. He is a good guardian!

He would be readily available too, because he’s usually hanging around you. No need to go looking for him.

He might pretend to be annoyed/unwilling, in his usual tsundere fashion. Halfheartedly complaining as he’s in the middle of actively doing as you asked. What a dork.

He’d roll his eyes, but WOULD take the extra time to catch and release instead of killing it if you asked.

He would give you a hug to calm you down after disposing of it, and then be very confused when you freak out worse because he didn’t wash his hands after dealing with the spider.

Then he’d correct that so he can successfully comfort you. You’re soft with him when HE’S scared, so he’ll be soft with you when you’re scared. He’ll deal with his brothers making fun of him for it later.

He’d never admit out loud that he’s a coward, but he knows it’s true. He’s very sympathetic to his human for having an irrational fear as well.

He’s very happy that he can make you feel safe.

9/10

Levi

Is confused at first. You’ve faced down angry demons and mortal peril so many times, and you’re scared of a bug?

He’s not scared, he’s THE Leviathan, the oceans are his to command! He’s seen WAAAY freakier creatures in the ocean, a spider is nothing!

But… it also… doesn’t defer to him, like ocean monstrosities do. It’s just… staring at him!! Menacingly!! M-maybe he’s a little freaked out…

Doesn’t matter, he insists to himself. This is his opportunity to protect his Henry! He will defend you, he is capable, he will defeat this creepy bug for you!

He advances upon this small enemy, cup and paper in hand. This is nothing more than a low level video game enemy! He’s good at this!

And then it starts mOVING, it’s RUNNING AT HIM AAAA—oh, hi Lotan.

… So uhh. Good news, the spider is dead. Bad news, the house is flooding and Lotan is inside. Lucifer’s gonna be pissed…

(Also, if you had happened to see the spider while he was gaming, you’d have to really beg him to come help you. Once he realizes it’s you, he’s on his way. But it’ll take a bit.)

4/10

Satan

If it were any of his brothers asking him to come get a spider for them, he would make fun of them relentlessly. But it’s you, so he will be nice.

Or. He will try to be nice. If you interrupted his reading or his homework (or dragged him away from a cat!), he’ll be annoyed. Now that you and him are close, he’s not really in the habit of lying to your face anymore. So… you’ll be able to tell.

You don’t dare tell him not to kill it.

Hiding behind him, you point out the spider. He regards it scornfully. Rolling his eyes at it where you can’t see.

With a flick of his finger, the spider is magically vaporized.

He softens as you thank him for saving you, especially if you continue to cling to him from your hiding spot behind him.

He’ll reach over his shoulder to pat your head and reassure you. He’ll tell you that it’s okay to call on him for this sort of thing again if you really need to, he’s not actually mad, he loves you, you’re alright.

6/10

Asmo

You might THINK Asmo would hate spiders, because he’s notorious for despising anything unsightly. But no. Scorpions are also arachnids. Asmo is pro-arachnid. That spider is friend-shaped to him!

So when you run to him all freaked out, he can’t help but feel a bit offended on the spider’s behalf.

He’ll let you hide behind him, but that’s not super helpful honestly, because he’ll pick it up and coo over it

He’s like, “look, it’s okay, he’s not gonna hurt you! Look at that beautiful pattern, look at those eyes, he’s gorgeous!” as he actively offers it to you to admire (completely oblivious to the possibility of the spider legit being pretty dangerous to you. Asmo is much more venom resistant than you are!)

… as long as you don’t let him put the damn creature in your hand, this may be helpful for you if you’re just scared of spiders. Desensitization and all. But it’s NOT helpful one bit if you have full-blown arachnophobia! Phobias can’t be reasoned with so easily! Being forced to be so close to a spider before you’re good and ready is actually very detrimental to someone with a phobia!

Concern for you wins out over offense as you tremble and hyperventilate, frantically stumbling away from Asmo and his terrifying new friend.

He tries to come reassure you, but that makes it worse because he sTILL HASN’T PUT THE DAMN SPIDER AWAY

He gets the hint when you flinch away from him. He’ll go put the spider outside. He’ll make sure you see/hear him washing his hands before approaching you again. He’ll even turn out his pockets to reassure you that he has definitely put the spider outside.

He apologizes for making it worse and offers some sorely needed comfort.

Still, later he’s totally gonna be telling you all about various spiders and trying to get you to see the beauty in them. He’s your number one ally for getting over this fear.

He doesn’t really get it if you’ve got a phobia instead of a regular, garden-variety fear, but he won’t be insensitive again.

Points for learning and open-mindedness, minus points for being very unhelpful at simply removing a spider for you.

2/10

Beel

You might THINK that Beel would be your best bet for this… but no!

Big and strong and protective he may be, but Beel is a fly! Spiders eat flies! It is hardwired into him to be terrified of them, even though he is much bigger and can kill them easily. They’re not REALLY a threat to him, but…

He might be more scared than you are.

As soon as he sees it, HE tries to hide behind YOU.

Beel is actually on the verge of tears. He wants to take you and run, but if he takes his eyes off it who KNOWS where it’ll end up?? You’ll both be paranoid for days if it escapes!

He calls for Belphie to come rescue you both. Belphie shows up to find you and Beel both trying to hide in each other’s embrace. Cowering in a corner, trembling as you cling to each other, both staring, glassy eyed and terrified, at a spider chilling on the wall across the room.

Belphie is used to this. It’s the one and only time he gets to protect Beel, instead of the other way around. He does a good job. The spider is efficiently defeated and disposed of.

Points for making you feel better about being scared and for indirectly solving the problem for you. Minus points for not actually being able to remove the spider for you

5/10

Belphie

Now, if you choose to go to Belphie for help… well, that’s a bold choice if you don’t already know about Beel’s arachnophobia.

He’s a brat and a prankster and you KNOW this

He is so tempted to pick it up and taunt you with it… but he won’t.

He’s not trying to give you something ELSE to forgive him for. He will never choose to break your trust again. If you’re actually scared, he’s not going to make it worse.

Shockingly, Belphie is actually the best one to go to about this.

You asking for his help with this specifically actually really endears you to him. Reminds him of Beel. You have unlocked the elusive responsible/protective/reassuring Belphie!

He’s not scared of spiders at all, this is the one fear that he won’t ever use to prank you if it’s as bad as Beel’s is, and he’s very practiced at helping a loved one with arachnophobia. Perfect, surprisingly enough!

He’ll kill it without hesitation, unless you specifically ask him to release it outside.

He absolutely knows to wash his hands and make sure you can see that there’s no trace of the spider on him or in the room before approaching you. Beel would freak out if he didn’t. He knows the drill.

He happily takes the time to comfort you and make sure you’ve calmed down once it’s disposed of. He’ll bring you to a different room and lie on top of you like a weighted blanket to help you relax. A nap wouldn’t hurt…

If you’re embarrassed about being scared, he’ll reassure you himself and then direct you to Beel. Beel is the best one to help you with that.

10/10

[jedi-enthusiast]

Ngl I think a lot of people, when they talk about Jedi and attachments and how "the Jedi should be allowed to have them," just plain ignore the single most important show of attachment in all of Star Wars.

Padme and Anakin.

Obviously people bring them up 24/7 when they want to bash the Jedi or pretend that Anidala is the epitome of a "healthy relationship" (lmao), but when it comes to the actual point of how their relationship is framed and how it highlights how attachment works/what it does---suddenly all the discussion around Anakin and Padme disappears!

Anakin's attachment to Padme and his unwillingness to let her go is LITERALLY what ends up killing her!!!

He has dreams of her dying, becomes convinced that those dreams are what's gonna happen (despite the unreliable nature of visions), and---instead of actually telling anyone anything in enough detail so they could actually help---he:

- Starts working with a Sith Lord

- Massacres a Temple full of children, the elderly, the injured, etc. and the people who were caring for them

- Helps commit a genocide

- Overthrows democracy

And then, once Padme won't support him vying for them to control the galaxy, he becomes convinced that she's betrayed him and attempts to kill her---then, later on, because of Anakin's actions Padme dies.

----------

THAT is what attachment is and what it does.

Attachment is being unable, unwilling, to let someone go, no matter what that might mean for you or them, because you don't want to go through life without them---and the people you try to hold onto so tight ultimately get crushed in your grip because of it.

Think of it like holding someone's hand.

Non-attachment would be, when the other person wants to stop, letting them slip away and being happy with what you had while you had it---being content whether they choose to stay by your side or run off to go do something else.

Attachment would be, when the other person tries to let go, tightening your grip or grabbing their wrist---hurting them because you don't want there to even be a chance that you would be without them.

----------

So no, the Jedi were not wrong to teach non-attachment and they should not have "changed their philosophies so they were allowed to have attachments" like some people have suggested, because attachment is unhealthy and selfish and all it does is end up hurting those around you.

[ghouljams]

A Letter from Your Future Husband (MDNI)

tags: Regency au, Soap x f!reader/OC, masochism, spanking, sexting through letters, dirty talk, guided masturbation, Soap has that dog in him, masturbation, "little" as a diminutive not a descriptor

Summary: Soap has write you letters that you hope never see the light outside of your bedroom. You can only be glad for the assurance that the man ruining you is so set on marrying you as well.

You never open letters around other people. Not since the first one. John Mactavish is seemingly unwilling or unable to be proper around you. His letters are filled with language that makes your head spin, your skin heat, and wetness drip between your legs. You don't know what he's hoping to accomplish with them, he's certainly not wooing you. Maybe he's hoping to speed your ruination, hoping that someone in your house will crack open his wax blue seal and be so scandalized by his words that...

Well they wouldn't break off the engagement you think. Your parents are too eager to be rid of you. Throw you to him sooner, might be the goal. You're not quite as eager to have that happen as Johnny's letters might lead people to believe. He promises a lot in his letters. Promises things you've never heard from other men. Things that make your stomach clench nervously, and it has to be nerves. If it isn't then you really are bound for ruin.

You slip his letter off the entry table and make your way to your room. Your heart pounds in your chest at the seal, the polite ribbon wrapped around the paper. It's pretty, it's always pretty. Pretty in a way that makes the filth inside feel so much worse.

"You haven't written me back hen," You can hear the chastising tuts of Johnny's tongue even through the paper, as you settle on your bed, "S'alright, know your hands are otherwise occupied.

'You are touchin' yourself to my letters, aren't you? God, I hope you are. Stuffing that pretty little pussy with your fingers isn't enough, is it bonnie? You can't hit all those nice spots, can't fill yourself full enough. I know you're droolin' against your pillows thinkin' about my cock. Bet you look so sweet touchin' yourself. You'll have to show me how you do it next time, tell me what you like so I can take over. Shouldn't be touchin' what isn't yours."

You shiver, glad the door is shut as you go to lay against your pillows. Johnny's voice fills your mind, and you're careful not to wrinkle your skirt as you pull it up. Touching what isn't yours... As if any part of you belongs to him, least of which your... Well you're not as crass as he is. That fact doesn't stop you from dragging your fingers over your slit. You hadn't done this before his letters, but one of Johnny's letters had been so explicit in its instructions, you'd had to at least see what the fuss was about. You circle your fingers over your clit, the same way he'd told you to.

"I'll make an exception while I'm away, but I want you to apologize when I'm back. Put yourself on your knees in front of me and say you're sorry for touchin' yourself. Fuck, just the thought of you has me strokin' my cock I'd be nice with punishing you if you apologized. When's the last time you were spanked? I'd put you over my knee, don't even have to ask me to do it. You would though. Bet you would. Could spank your pussy instead if you don't want to beg. Give it a try hen, nice and hard for me, tell me if you like it."

You should feel worse about your lack of hesitation, should feel dirtier knowing he doesn't even have to be here to make you obey. The sharp sting when you slap your cunt makes your hips twitch, makes heat pool in your stomach. You do it again just to feel the way your body squirms. The wet sound of it is tempting, the lingering buzz of pain making your fingers hover hesitantly. You shouldn't like this, but you so desperately do. You wonder what it would feel like to have Johnny do it, his thick fingers rubbing over you, soothing out the pain before pulling back to spank you again.

He'd probably hit you harder than this. The thought makes you drip.

"I said hard, hen."

You have to bite down the noise you make. Twisting against the pillows to breathe as you rub your fingers against your clit, trying to sooth the sting from your last, hard, hit. Fuck it's good, it's good and you hate this man for making it good. You hate that you know exactly what his next words will be, as if he knows you're putty in his hands.

"Good girl. Know that was hard for you, but you did so well for me. Know you squirm, gonna haf'ta hold you down when I do it. You'd like that though, love havin' me pin you and spank you 'til you're comin' on my fingers. Dirty little thing. You want me to clean you up with my tongue after? You think you deserve that?"

You slip your fingers down to circle your entrance, you don't have the patience that Johnny seems to and press two fingers into yourself. You grind your hips down against them, and he's right, they aren't enough. You're not filled the way you want to be, not stretched enough to feel it when you clench on your fingers. They feel good though, the drag of them in and out, pushing tight heat in the pit of your stomach with each stroke.

You wish he could hear you, wish it meant something when you whimper out a soft, "yes." You imagine his tongue licking over your slit, flicking against your clit. He'd tease you, you know he would. Circle your clit without touching it, licking broad swipes over your cunt. His fingers would just press against your entrance, thicker than the ones you desperately pump in and out of yourself. You drop his letter to rub your clit, he's right(he often is) your hands are often too occupied to think about writing him back. It's his fault though.

His fault for making you think of his head between your legs, making you imagine the scratch of his beard on your thighs as your stomach grows hotter and tighter. Your cunt is drooling around your fingers, the circles you draw over your clit sparking pleasure up your spine and making you whine for more. Everything pulls tight too quickly, your cunt clenching desperately on your fingers as it tries to suck them deeper. It's enough to get you over the edge, but not enough to be satisfying.

You pinch your clit, and the pain pushes makes everything break. Your legs shaking as your hips buck against your fingers, desperate, and almost perfect. You work yourself through the high and pull your hands away when it all becomes too much, too sensitive. If Johnny were here...

You fish around for his letter with wet fingers --you're sure he'd do the same-- and scan your eyes over the page, almost too eager to see how badly he wants you.

"My poor pussy, I know I'm mean to 'er. I'll clean you up love, lick you 'til you're sobbin' for me, beggin' to be fucked proper. You're so pretty when you're cryin'. My poor little wife, I'll make sure you get fucked as often as you like; keep you full of my cock, plugged up so all the come I pour into you stays in place. I'm wastin' so much of it just thinkin' about you, but I'll make up for it. You just give me the word.

Write me something nice, hen. Tell me how badly you want my cock, tell me how you touch yourself, tell me you'd sit under my desk and warm my cock in your throat while I work. Tell me you love me and I'll be on your step tomorrow. As stands I'll be there within a week. Miss me.

Johnny"

You truly must be ruined to smile at that. 'Tell me you love me' he says, without telling you the same. Rude man. You hate him(you love him, God, you love him).