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kteezy997 · 5 months

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The Candy Man-Part One// W.W.

Warnings: Smut, mention of masturbation, male receiving oral sex, virgin Wonka, cowgirl, missionary, some dirty talk, curse words, cream pie, female receiving oral sex, oh and cheating on spouse A/n: I have not seen Wonka yet, so there are NO spoilers here!

As a young housewife, there wasn't much for you to do. You had done the housework for the week and done all the grocery shopping, and it was only Wednesday. This would make for a long, boring week.

It would be different if you had a child to look after, but sadly, that hadn't happened yet. And it may never happen if your husband continues to show such a low interest in sex. Sometimes it felt like he forgot you even existed.

You wished he would just give you a baby, if he didn't want to give you attention. That way you'd have not only something to occupy your time, but you'd also have someone to love, and for someone to love you. You weren't even sure if your husband loved you anymore. Your relationship wasn't the same as when you were first married two years ago.

These days, all you really wanted was for him to come home, rip your clothes off, and fuck you like he hadn't seen a woman in years. You wanted to feel desired, so badly. You had recently picked up a habit of touching yourself sexually while your husband was away at work. You were so starved.

.....

Autumn had come and gone by this time of the year and it was becoming quite frigid outside. With winter well on the way, you turned on your fireplace in the living room. You didn't really care for the bear skin rug that your husband insisted on having in front of the fireplace, but it wasn't worth the fight to try to get rid of it.

With the fire going, you snuggled up into a cozy sweater and put on some mindless radio station to fill in the silence of the empty house. As you listened to the radio and did some mild tidying about the room, you wondered if you should maybe get a dog, or maybe a cat.

Then the doorbell rang, that's weird. You thought. You seldom had any visitors during the day. You walked over and opened the door.

"Hello, Miss. My name is Willy Wonka! Would you care to sample some of my chocolate on this fine day?"

"Fine day? It's freezing out there," you said as you were awestruck by this man's beauty, his bright purple coat and milk chocolate-colored top hat added a sort of zany zest to his attractiveness. "um, would you care to come in and warm up for a minute?" you said politely, nodding to his briefcase that you assumed was filled with sweets, adding, "I do love chocolate."

"Why, yes, if you're sure you don't mind." he smiled, and his green eyes were dazzling.

"No, I don't mind at all, sir."

Willy took his hat off, and his curls fell downward in a bit of a mess as he stepped into the warm home. "Thank you, I didn't get your name."

"Oh, I'm y/n. Please, sit down, the fire is going."

"It is quite toasty in here, thank you, y/n." Willy said, taking a seat on the couch closest to the fireplace. “Very interesting choice of a rug, y/n.” he chirped.

“Oh that? My husband insisted on it, it’s so dreadful. But it is rather soft.”

“Hm.” he nodded looking at the luscious, dark colored fur on the floor. He then looked at her, cheerily, “So, would you like to try some?” He picked up his briefcase.

“Of course.” you said with a smile, truly wanting to try some of him instead, but you’d give his candy a chance for now. He was so damn handsome. His hair was gorgeous, you wanted to run your fingers through it, maybe even pull it.

He opened his briefcase in his lap, letting you choose which candy you wanted.

You picked a piece of chocolate, and he told you the name of it, and its special ingredients. You listened to him, but ultimately got lost in his innocent yet sexy eyes. You bit into the treat, and it was rich and velvety sweet as it melted in your mouth. It was absolutely delicious. The best candy you ever had in your life.

“Mr. Wonka, this is perfection, it’s absolutely divine.”

Willy smiled widely, “I’m pleased to hear it. I have only ever hoped that each person that tries my chocolate will have that same reaction.”

He was so genuinely confident and excited about his creation. The passion he had was evident.

“I’ll take every one of this flavor that you have, Mr. Wonka.” you said, taking another delicious bite.

“Wonderful!” he exclaimed, “And please, call me Willy.”

“Willy.” you said, softly. You wanted to moan his name. But how to get there? You improvised. “Um, why don’t you stay for a bit longer? I can put in a pot of tea, if you’d like.”

“That sounds lovely y/n, or should I call you Mrs…”

“Oh, it’s Mrs. Hudson, but you can just call me y/n.” you insisted, hopping up and going to the kitchen heating up some tea. You had to have this man. Cheating was wrong, but your husband would never, ever know. He never wanted sex anymore, but you couldn’t go without it like he did. You were so needy, especially now, after meeting the handsome Mr. Wonka.

You had plenty of time to have Willy fuck you and send him on his way with his payment for the chocolate, all before Mr. Hudson got home. You would have to make Mr. Wonka an offer he couldn’t refuse, much like you couldn’t refuse his delectable sweets.

You carried two cups of steaming, aromatic tea, one for you and one for Willy. You hoped it would warm him up properly.

“Here you are, sir.”

“Why thank you, very kindly, my lady.” he took the teacup from you, and you felt weak in your knees when your hand was briefly brushed by his fingers. You watched as he carefully brought the rim of the cup to his lips, taking a small sip. “Mm, that’s quite good. A perfect cup of tea, y/n.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you like it.” you said, sitting down next to him and taking a sip for yourself. You didn’t know how to get this man naked; you weren’t finding any viable option that wouldn’t be too crude or forward. You felt you were running out of time. You couldn’t let him leave with the risk of never seeing him again. This delightful, beautiful man could not escape you.

“Well, this has been quite the pleasure.” he said, in a farewell tone. He took one last sip of his tea.

You haven’t had the pleasure, yet.

“But I will get out if your hair,” Willy stood up, continuing, “and go about my merry way. Thank you for your-"

“Wait! Willy-" you shot up to your feet as you spoke but couldn’t finish a sentence. You just started into his eyes.

“Yes?” he asked, frowning at you, utterly confused by your behavior.

You didn’t have the words, so you threw yourself at him, kissing him hungrily.

He took ahold of you, and pulled away from the kiss, “Y/n, are you mad?”

“Oh, god! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“No, it is alright. It was kind of…nice.”

“Yeah? Mr. Wonka, I had an idea of pleasing you the way you pleased me with your chocolate. If you’ll indulge me?”

He raised his eyebrows, “I have to say, I’m intrigued.”

You put your hands on his chest, making him sit back down on the couch. Your hands then went to his fly.

“Whoa! What are you doing?” he asked, panicky.

“Shh-sh. Relax, Willy. Do you like me?”

“Ye-yes.” he trembled with nerves. “I find you very pretty.”

“I really like you. Have you…ever been with a woman before?” You rested your hands on his upper thighs, dangerously close to his member. It was visible through his trousers although he wasn’t even hard yet.

Willy shook his head, “No, ma’am.”

“Awe, don’t be scared. I’ll take care of you, okay. Do you want that, Willy?” You ran your hands slowly around the outline of his cock.

He gulped, watching your hands on his pants, “Yes, I think I would really like that.”

“Good.” You beamed, unzipping his trousers, and pulling his cock out. He was much thicker and longer than your husband. You were excited about being Willy’s first. You wet his cock with your tongue, and sucked him, moaning and slurping as you did so. You wanted him so bad; you sucked his cock like your life depended on it.

A string of “oh oh oh”’s and “mmm’”s fell from Willy’s mouth as you worked over his cock. He writhed on the couch and placed a hand on your head.

He was hard as stone after a moment, and you had been wet since he sat on your couch the first time. “Oh, Willy. Do you feel good, my sweet?”

“Yes,” he panted, his eyes glazed over, “very good.”

You stood up, and dropped your underwear to the ground, kicking them elsewhere. Then, you mounted him. His hands instinctively went to your waist. You reached down, placing his member between your folds. You sank down on him, feeling the intense stretch of your vaginal walls. You moaned in a slight pain initially, because his was larger than your husband, and you had never been with anyone else.

“Are you alright, y/n?”

“Oh, yes, darling, just give me a moment.” you adjusted, and then started to bounce in his lap.

Willy watched you in wonder and awe, then he’d look down to watch your pussy envelope his cock. “Haa, this is incredible.” he moaned, gripping your hips harder.

You quickened your pace. Sinful wet sounds came from your pussy. God, you needed this. The friction alone was titillating, but the tip of his cock would hit your cervix every so often and it was bliss, the whole scenario.

"Oh, y/n!" Willy cried your name over and over again. His hands explored your clothed body, groping your curves.

Damn, it felt so nice to be touched, and his hands were surprisingly big, and he knew how to use them.

You held yourself up with your hands on his shoulders, and slowly rocked back and forth on his cock. You noticed him eyeing your chest. "Unbutton my blouse, Willy."

He bit his lip with an eager gleam in his eyes, and he opened up the front of your blouse, letting your breasts plop out in his face.

Willy's eyes widened, he took his eyes away from your tits to look up in your eyes, "May I feel them?" he asked with a soft whimper.

"Yes, absolutely." you huffed, taking his hands and clapping them onto your naked breasts.

He gently squeezed and kneaded your breasts, then rolled your nipples between his fingers.

He was so sweet, and so curious about your body. It was so hot. You wanted to get off, you hoped to cum all over his dick. You held onto his arms firmly and rode him hard. His cock pounded away at your walls wildly, and you contracted your pussy around his girth.

"Ah! Fuck this is so good! I'm gonna...I'm gonna come!"

"Oh, oh!" Willy held your waist, and you felt his cock twitch inside you.

Your tummy swirled, and your legs went limp as you came.

"What's happening?" Willy cried, "What is this?" You felt him shoot ropes of his milky cum inside of you.

You took his worried face in your hands, "You're alright, my candy man. You had an orgasm. It's a wonderful thing."

"Oh," he panted, "yes, I suppose it is. A fantastic thing! Gosh, y/n, that felt like chocolate tastes, and chocolate is the best thing in the world!" he was so excited, like he'd discovered something that no one else had experienced before.

You giggled, "Well, I'm flattered, Willy." you felt hot and sweaty, you ran your hand down the back of your neck. You felt Willy's eyes on your tits.

"Your breasts, they are absolutely beautiful." he took them in his hands, just admiring the fullness of them.

You felt your pussy throb at the sight. Your husband never paid much attention to your body, but Willy seemed to be enthralled by you. You noticed how the glow of the fire highlighted his cocoa-colored curls. It was so pretty, his hair looked like the work of a master chocolatier. You ran your fingers through it, feeling the silkiness of his glorious mane.

"Can we do it again?" he asked you, then nodded to the floor, "There? On the bear skin rug? It would be comfortable for you."

"You're so thoughtful. Fuck me again, Willy Wonka. Pound me into the floor if you must."

Willy smiled like a kid on Christmas morning and hoisted you up and then carefully placed you down on the rug.

The fur was plush and soothing on your back. You put your arms up by your head to get comfy.

Willy ran his hands down your body. He looked at you like you were a gift he had been waiting for. "You are so beautiful. Your husband does not know how lucky he is."

"That's sweet, Willy, but let's not mention my husband."

He nodded, "Right." Then, he dipped down, pressing his lips to your stomach.

"Mm." you moaned, rubbing your thighs together in anticipation. You could feel Willy's semen dripping out of you. You wanted more.

Willy left small wet kisses down passed your navel, lower and lower, and you couldn't help but push his head down where you needed him most.

"How do I do this, y/n? Is it like... licking a lollipop?" he asked, naively.

You smiled at him and said, "Yes, kind of. Like a sucker with a chewy center...but you're not in a big hurry to get to the center. You're just trying to enjoy the flavor on the outside."

He took a second to ponder over what you had said, then he nodded, "Okay, got it."

He was a quick learner. He lapped steadily on your clit; his pacing was perfect, not too fast, not too slow. He must have had lots of suckers in his life.

"You can use the tip of your tongue also, Willy." you whimpered through the pleasure.

"Oh, okay." he answered, his voice muffled as he didn't move away from your pussy as he spoke.

The vibrations from his voice sent tingles through your body. That coupled with Willy massaging your clit with his tongue and letting the tip dance between your folds, led you to your second orgasm. You cried out in ecstasy. "Willy Wonka, you are a god!"

"No, I'm just a chocolate maker." he said, nonchalantly. He then sat on his knees, his hand around his cock. He ran the tip of his cock along the joint of your wet folds, coating himself in your cum.

"Ooh." you moaned, tucking your fingers into the furry rug as firmly as you could.

Willy slid into you, then back out. "Ha, you're so wet."

"Fuck me hard, Willy." you purred.

With that, he shoved his cock into you, bucking his hips roughly. His hips smacked your skin with each thrust. He put his whole length into you. He gripped your thighs and started to get faster.

You squeezed him with your thighs, and he grew more confident in what he was doing and picked up a rhythm. You watched his handsome face scrunch up as he worked his hips, his thick brows furrowing in both pleasure and concentration.

You wondered what your husband would do if he knew that the candy man stopped by and made you come on the bear skin rug he loved so much. Oh, the risk was worth it! For Willy was perhaps better at sex than making chocolate.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss

@chalametbich

#timothée chalamet #timmy chalamet #timothée imagine #timothee chalamet smut #willy wonka x reader #willy wonka #timothee x reader

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luveline · 6 months

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how about some domestic stuff of post-prison reid and stripper!reader??? that one fic broke my heart in the best way

Prison changes a lot of things about Spencer, so when you get back to his place after a quick run to the grocery store and find him packing away some of his things into boxes, you're not alarmed. “Spring cleaning?” you ask, stepping around him carefully where he's kneeling by the TV stand.

“Making room,” he says.

He must have bought something. You put your tote bag in the crook of your arm and bend a touch to kiss his cheek, his hair brushing your face. “You have so many things, Spence, you need a storage locker. You need two.”

He feels blindly up your arm.

You put the groceries away, wash your hands, and cut some veggies. You season them and put them in the oven to roast, calling Spencer to see what he wants with it. “You could have the leftover chicken, or I can make, like… anything you want, actually. Pork chops, or maybe forget that and we'll have pasta, I can frankenstein the– Hey, Spence? You listening?”

You're not mad. He's always been prone to deep thought, but usually he isn't looking straight at you while you talk. “Spencer?”

“You'll move in with me, right? If I ask?”

You wring your hands. “You've asked me a hundred times.”

“But this time, you'll say yes.” He's staring at you. He already knows.

“You can at least pretend to ask me.”

Spencer closes the box in front of him. “Please, move in with me. I can't spend that long away from you ever again.”

“You see me almost every day when you're not working.”

He shrugs, smiles. “It's not enough.”

You sit on the couch. He leans over his box to hold your leg. Spencer's asked you a bunch of times, first because he worried about your safety, then because he felt it was a good option as his friend, and then again because he loved you. And you always said no because you didn't want to depend on him, and because some nagging voice in the back of your mind kept telling you he'd realise he didn't want you as soon as you got close enough. But it's been a long time since you thought that way, and his stint in prison emphasised how badly you need each other.

“So, it'll be equal?” you ask in answer.

“I'm not saying that. The rent is ridiculous, and you didn't sign up for that, and I have no idea where we'll put all your clothes. But it'll be half yours, absolutely.” He looks especially happy though apprehensive; he hasn't realised you don't need convincing this time.

“I want to bring my pink lamp for the bedroom.”

Spencer's smile changes his entire face. Puppy dog eyes turn thinner, his lips part, his perfect teeth like pearls. “I want you to bring the pink lamp. Bring everything. No one will ever understand our decor.”

You sink down on the floor in front of him and nudge aside his box for a hug. He gives it to you, and, in a slightly uncharacteristic move for him, he cuts the embrace short to kiss you soundly, his hand on your cheek. He kisses you again and again until you're laughing into his mouth.

“Does this mean you'll let me propose?” he asks softly.

Your breath catches. He doesn't sound particularly put together himself, bringing his second hand to your face, holding your forehead to this.

“I don't think it's something I have much choice in,” you say eventually, your smile audible and immovable.

You get to say yes or no, but his wanting to ask is all on him. He's flustered you unexpectedly, and the quiet laugh coming from what feels to be the deepest recess of his chest tips you over. You dip down into his neck slowly, hiding away in the curve of his shoulder as his arms come heavy behind you.

“All I could think was how much stuff I didn't get to say to you, or do with you,” he says. “If they couldn't clear my name, I kept thinking about how much time I wouldn't get back.”

You breathe out in a rush against his neck. “But you're out.”

“Yeah. I am.” He strokes your back. “Lucky me.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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kaisacobra · 9 months

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A Little Bird Told Me - Tara Carpenter

Summary: a badly interpreted tweet makes Tara get jealous

Warnings: Fem! Reader, a bit of angst, mentions of yellowjackets characters (Lottie Matthews and Lottienat), curse words

Word Count: 5.3k

"I propose a movie night at Tara's house!"

That catches the attention of the younger Carpenter, making her turn away from the direction of the Blackmore University library to answer Mindy with a teasing smile. "And who said I want you all at my house tonight?"

"You don't have a choice!" Mindy retorts, tossing a fallen leaf from the table they were sitting on towards Tara. "And you definitely want a certain someone to come to your house tonight."

"Yeah, you've been staring at the library door since she went in there." Anika joins her girlfriend in the argument, causing Tara's face to turn even redder.

You had been at the table earlier with Tara, Mindy, Anika, Chad, and Ethan, but a message had arrived on your phone and you hastily headed towards the library, letting your friends know you wouldn't take long. Since you left, the freckled girl couldn't help but look expectantly in that direction, missing your funny comments and calming presence.

It's true that Tara might have had a little crush on you since the beginning of this year, when you patiently and non-judgmentally listened to a long rant that Carpenter had been holding back about everything that had happened in Woodsboro. You had been there too, but you let her say everything she wanted and didn't even mention your own traumas, being more concerned with holding Tara in your arms as she shed the necessary tears. Since that night, she couldn't help but see you in a different light.

"Well, if everyone's up for it, I don't think Sam will mind having you all over." She tried to smoothly change the subject.

"I'm in!" Ethan was the first to confirm, followed by the other three instantly. Tara took the opportunity to take her phone out of her pocket and message Sam, informing her about the plans for later.

"Wow, who's that?" She heard Chad say, but didn't lift her head from her phone, thinking he was talking about some random girl he found attractive. However, Mindy's next sentence made Tara snap her head up so fast she almost got whiplash.

"Ooh, Y/n is in good company!" Mindy teased, and Tara followed her gaze until she spotted you, coming out of the library laughing alongside a girl who was clearly beautiful even from a distance. The dark wavy hair framed her face perfectly, and she was tall like a model. There was no reason for it, but the Carpenter girl suddenly felt intimidated by this new mystery girl.

You continued walking with her towards your friends, and as you got close enough to be seen clearly but not close enough to overhear the conversation, Chad blurted out a comment. "Damn, is that Charlotte Matthews?"

"Fuck! I think it is!" Anika added with excitement. Seeing the huge question mark on Tara's face, she hurriedly explained. "Lottie is on the college women's soccer team, and they're basically unbeatable. She's, like, super popular."

Tara crossed her arms and looked in your direction again, a bitter taste forming in her mouth as she noticed you were still laughing at something the girl had told you. What could possibly be so amusing?

"I didn't know Y/n had rizz like that." Mindy added with a thoughtful expression. "Good for her."

Before Tara could say that there was nothing to indicate you had any interest in Lottie (something she was also trying to convince herself of), you finally reached the table, greeting your friends with a smile. "Hey, guys."

"Hey." Lottie spoke after you, a bit shyly. How dare she be beautiful, tall as a goddess, and yet still have an adorable charm?

Everyone responded, and Tara found herself forcing a smile to hide her conflicting feelings. She sought your gaze, and some of the knot in her stomach unraveled as you locked eyes. "We're having a movie night at my place tonight, do you want to come?"

Your expression twisted into one of sorrowful regret. "Can't, sorry. I'll be tutoring Lottie in organic chemistry, it'll probably take the whole day." Tara realized you were still looking at her, trying to decipher if she was upset about your absence. Ever since movie nights had become a kind of tradition within the group, you had never missed one. This would be the first time you wouldn't be there, and Tara could tell you felt bad about it.

"Don't worry about it!" Mindy waved her hands nonchalantly, then turned to Tara with a teasing smile. "We get that you have bigger priorities, right, Tara?"

You still looked at the girl like a lost puppy, eagerly awaiting her reaction. Tara swallowed a sigh and forced herself to maintain a fake smile to calm her nerves. "Right. It was about time you put that brain of yours to some use."

With the girl's joke, you laughed, visibly becoming less tense as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. "Well, I'll see you guys tomorrow. Bye, everyone!" You waved goodbye to everyone at the table, Lottie doing the same out of politeness, and Tara watched bitterly as the two of you walked away side by side, probably heading towards the player's dorm.

"I bet 5 bucks Y/n will show up tomorrow with a massive hickey on her neck." Chad jokes, and the group laughs in response. Tara, being the only one not finding the joke funny, lets out an irritated huff and stands up, slinging her own bag over her shoulder. "Let's get going already, I want to pick the movie."

She starts walking slowly, ignoring Ethan's protests that it's his turn to choose.

The truth was: Tara just didn't want them to see how upset she was about your absence.

I want to stab you to death and play around with your blood.

Tara grimaced as she heard the line spoken by Christian Bale through the television, and she could see from the corner of her eye that everyone had shifted uncomfortably, relating the line to the events of the previous year.

Ethan had chosen American Psycho as the movie for the night, and Tara didn't want to protest since you weren't there for her to gauge your reactions to the film she chose. She sighed and glanced at her phone's lock screen again, hoping for a message from you saying that the tutoring had ended early and you were on your way. It never came.

She ran her hands over her face in frustration. The thought of you alone with an annoyingly beautiful girl in her room was enough to make a vein in her temple throb. What if Chad was right? What if tomorrow you showed up with a hickey on your neck, holding hands with Lottie Matthews, strolling across campus like the most beloved couple in America?

Ugh. She pressed her eyes shut to try to banish the image from her mind. When did she let her feelings for you become so... intense? It was almost humiliating to think that Tara Carpenter had gone from the girl who spent most of her time alone to the girl who couldn't stand a few hours without you.

Feeling a strange surge of pride, Tara shook her head and grabbed her phone, opening the front camera. She was having fun and definitely not sinking into miserable thoughts, right? So she had to post a picture to prove that she was perfectly happy! Of course, that had nothing to do with you, and she certainly didn't care if you saw the photo while you were busy doing who knows what with one of the most desired girls at Blackmore.

"Hey, guys! Look here real quick!" Tara alerted, and everyone shuffled to get into the selfie. Sam sat beside her with a restrained smile, Anika and Mindy were wrapped in each other's arms a bit behind the Carpenters, and Chad had an arm around Ethan's shoulders, who responded by making a peace sign with his fingers behind his roommate's head.

Tara snapped the picture and examined the result, mindlessly promising to send it to Anika when the girl asked. The younger Carpenter discreetly zoomed in on her own face, deciding if she looked pretty enough to post it or not. Satisfied, she opened Instagram and uploaded the photo as a story, adding a caption underneath. Great night with these weirdos.

After that, Tara locked her phone, trying to hypnotize herself into believing she wasn't eagerly waiting for your comment. She stared fixedly at the TV, feigning deep interest in Patrick Bateman's actions, as if she hadn't lost focus on the movie within the first twenty minutes.

5 minutes later, her phone buzzed with a notification. You had replied to her story.

Tara almost giggled and kicked her feet because of how quickly you messaged. That had to be a good sign. You wouldn't have replied so fast if you were busy doing something... or someone else. Right?

"Don't have too much fun without me." Your message read. The younger Carpenter bit her lower lip to contain a wider smile on her face.

"Never." She typed, but thought better of it and deleted it, typing out a different response. "I can't promise anything."

You read the message but didn't reply any further, probably returning to your duties as a tutor. Tara didn't complain, as she was already more than satisfied with the quick attention you gave her.

She comfortably leaned back on the couch, where she was seated between Sam and Mindy, the latter gently stroking Anika's hair, who was sitting beside her. The two boys were on the floor engaged in a heated discussion about whether Ethan was an incel or not based on his choice of movie.

Feeling more relaxed, Tara reached over to snatch some popcorn from Sam, earning a light smack and narrowed eyes in retaliation. She offered an innocent smile to her older sister, who simply rolled her eyes and placed the popcorn bucket between them, succumbing to the silent plea.

Tara could almost have forgotten she had been upset. Almost. But then her phone vibrated with another notification.

It was from your Twitter, and from the notification bar, apparently, you had tweeted "hjsuzgabasi."

She frowned, trying to figure out what the hell you were trying to say. Unlocking her phone, Tara quickly opened the Twitter app, searching for your profile so she could reply with something like "???" on your latest post.

But as she was about to comment on your tweet, she noticed the other two you had just posted.

She's soooooo prettyyy😭😭 just one chance please

Her brown eyes omg im so gay

Tara's mood instantly turned sour. Had you just tweeted about Lottie Matthews? I mean, you were with her now, and Tara vividly remembered the girl's big, enchanting brown eyes. Of course, you were tweeting about the gay panic you were probably experiencing in real life.

She sighed and stood up from the couch. "I'm gonna grab some water." Tara mumbled to justify her departure and headed to the kitchen, still holding her phone. Suddenly, the fun atmosphere she had felt for a few minutes had given way to a nauseating feeling churning in her stomach.

She turned the phone over before grabbing a glass, but her eyebrows furrowed when she realized your tweets were no longer there. Holding the device with both hands now, she refreshed your profile again, but the posts had vanished as if they were a mirage. You had probably deleted them to prevent Lottie from seeing, or something like that.

Either way, the tweets had been there, and Tara had firsthand seen your super gay panic as you probably looked at the soccer player. She hated the thought that you might be blushing right now over something Lottie said, giving one of your cute shy smiles as she ran her hand through your hair, eventually trailing down to your neck and pulling you in for...

No! Tara was already torturing herself enough without imagining what you two might be doing. She didn't need another reason to ruin her own night.

So, after downing a glass of water and trying to contain the terrible feeling spreading through her system, Tara returned to the living room dragging her feet, doing her best to force herself to enjoy the rest of the night with her friends.

She definitely wasn't caring about your stupid new crush.

"Ugh! If you point out one more mistake of mine, I'm going to bite your arm!" Lottie complained dramatically, leaning back in her swivel chair and turning towards you, avoiding looking at the open notebook with unsolved questions.

You chuckled at her antics. "Let's not resort to cannibalism, okay? I'd rather stay whole if I still have to finish teaching you things."

"Can we at least take a break? My brain is killing me." She didn't even wait for your response and immediately got up, heading towards her own bed and lying down without ceremony. You just shook your head with a smile and stretched your arms, still sitting in the chair. Lottie was right, after all. You both deserved a bit of rest.

Taking advantage of the break, you took your phone out of your bag pocket and quickly checked your notifications, stopping at one that made your heart race and a small smile start to form on your face.

Opening the app, you viewed Tara's story. A photo of everyone in the group (minus Quinn, who was probably at one of her flings' places) gathered in the Carpenter's living room, with happy expressions that must have come from the fun of the movie nights.

You thought for a few seconds before sending a playful response. "Don't have too much fun without me." There was a bit of truth hidden behind those words, considering you felt bad for missing out on this time with your friends, but mostly for not being there with Tara.

It had been a few years since you started developing feelings for the younger Carpenter. You had met in school in Woodsboro and grew closer when you were assigned a literature project together. Since then, Tara introduced you to her other friends and you became a significant part of her life.

She made you feel heard and appreciated, so it didn't take long for you to fall in love and get lost in the sparkle of those brown eyes. But you weren't stupid. Everyone could see that Tara Carpenter only had eyes for Amber Freeman. So you decided to take a step back and act as a good friend to Tara, painfully listening when she talked about her immense love for her girlfriend.

You even thought about moving on from her, but then the "Woodsboro Massacre" happened, you knew you couldn't leave the girl alone during such a vulnerable time. So, despite your head warning you that you would get hurt, you followed your heart and never left Tara's side for a second.

"I can't promise anything." She replied after a while, and you smiled at the familiarity of her classic sense of humor in the message. You exited the chat shortly after, returning to Tara's stories to look at the posted photo once again.

You zoomed in on the familiar face, much like a high school girl stalking her crush, and involuntarily broke into a silly smile. Tara's dark hair was loose, waves cascading over her shoulder. She had a slight smile on her face that allowed you to catch a glimpse of her adorable dimple. The photo quality was good but not enough for you to see the freckles you knew were there, on her cheeks and nose, that you wished you could someday get close enough to count with the tips of your fingers.

With your heart pounding in your chest, you decided you were feeling too many emotions to keep them to yourself. So, like a good contemporary girl, you searched for the Twitter app on your phone and prepared for a gay vent of at least 100 characters.

"Why are you so red?" Lottie asks from her spot on the bed, startling you as you had completely forgotten about her presence.

Wide-eyed, you look at her and try to come up with something. "N-nothing. Must be your imagination."

Clearly, the excuse doesn't work with Lottie, because she breaks into a teasing smile and raises her eyebrows as if she knows all your secrets. "What was it? Did Tara send you a message?"

"Shut up." You release a weak grumble and quickly turn back to your phone, tweeting the first thing that came to your mind upon seeing your best friend's earlier photo. hjsuzgabasi. Poetic.

"Come on! Don't you think it's about time you confess your feelings?" Lottie sits up straight on the bed to better analyze you. "I mean, you talk about her all the time in class. Tara this, Tara that, Tara, Tara, Tara."

"I don't want to ruin our friendship, okay?" You turn to the soccer player before sending out more tweets containing your embarrassing thoughts about the younger Carpenter. She's soooooo prettyyy😭😭 just one chance please. Her brown eyes omg im so gay

Lottie sighs and gets up, walking over to you and placing her hands affectionately on your shoulders. "Look, I might not know her as well, but if she's as good a friend as you describe, she wouldn't stop talking to you over something you can't even control."

"I know. Maybe I'll tell her someday." You speak in a hushed voice but quickly lift your head to look up at the tall girl with a playful expression. "You know, you should take your own advice and just admit you have a crush on a certain Natalie Scatorccio from your soccer team."

Her eyes widen, and she blushes deeply, pushing your swivel chair back slightly as she returns to the bed, not before flipping you off. "Shut up, you fucking loser."

You laugh at that, and Lottie joins in right after. Maybe you two weren't as close as you were with the others in your group (especially Tara), but the time you spent sitting next to each other during those tedious organic chemistry classes was enough to cultivate a great friendship.

Still chuckling a bit, you returned your gaze to your phone, and... your heart dropped into your stomach. Oh no.

"Shit, shit, shit!" You exclaim, rushing to delete the posts as quickly as possible. How could you have gotten so distracted?!

"What's wrong?" Lottie asks, alarmed, watching with a concerned expression as you hurriedly tap on your phone, looking on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"I tweeted from my main account!" You reply with a mix of embarrassment and nervousness. "I didn't realize I wasn't on my private one, and I tweeted my gay panic about Tara's photo in a place where she can see! What do I do?!"

The taller girl walks over to you again, placing a hand in the space between your shoulders and encouraging you to take a deep breath along with her. "Calm down. Is there anything in the tweet that makes it clear it was about her?"

"Nothing specific... Damn it." You close your eyes and rest your head on the desk for a few seconds. What if Tara had seen the post, and now she's telling Sam how pathetic she thinks you are? Even worse, tonight was movie night! What if Tara had shown the tweets to everyone, and now they were all collectively laughing at you?

You pick up your phone again and open your messages, searching for Anika's contact. She and Mindy (who never let anything slide) were the only ones who had caught on to your crush on Tara and had already tried to advise you to confess your feelings, though they were still keeping the information a secret at your request. Between the two, the least likely to laugh at your current situation was the Kayoko, so you decided to beg her for help.

You

Nik, pls tell me Tara isn't on her phone rn

I may have accidentally posted my gay panic at her photo on twt…

Fashion Icon⭐ (Anika)

WHAT??????????

OMG, you guys are finally gonna date😭

Wait, she's in the kitchen, let me take a look

Oh.

You

Oh????

Wdym oh????

Fashion Icon⭐ (Anika)

She's looking weirdly at her phone

She seems upset

You

Oh.

Fashion Icon⭐ (Anika)

It's probably not with you

You

Forget it

Thx for the help

Lottie still gives you some awkward pats on your back as you turn to her fully, and you know she read everything over your shoulder when she offers a small supportive smile to try and make you feel better. You let Lottie embrace you as you close your eyes, feeling desperate tears threatening to fall.

"She doesn't like me back, does she?" You whisper into the girl's shoulder, and she squeezes you a little tighter in her hold.

"You don't know that. Try talking to her tomorrow, okay?"

Unwilling to utter any sound, you simply nod in agreement, knowing that even though the problem is only for tomorrow, you'll already feel the effects of it today.

It wasn't a good day for Tara.

The petite girl had tossed and turned in bed all night, unable to close her eyes with some inexplicable anger flooding her body. Every time she allowed herself to relax for a few seconds, the image of you being much closer to Charlotte Matthews than you should have been appeared in her mind like a bitter reminder.

And Tara could be very proud and stubborn, but she wasn't stupid. She knew perfectly well that her sour mood was out of pure jealousy and anger at herself for letting you slip through her fingers. But even though the negative feelings had their origin within herself, Tara still wasn't the best at dealing with her emotions and she knew she was making her bad mood everyone else's problem.

Unfortunately, you didn't know this when you approached her in the hallways of Blackmore University, with an apprehensive expression on your face and your heart in your hand. If Tara noticed your increasingly close presence, she didn't move a muscle to show it, but she moved plenty to walk faster, trying to cross your path without making contact.

"Hey, Tara." You stop her with a hand on her shoulder. This wasn't the best place to talk, considering you had just left a class and your classmates were spilling out into the hallway, chatting and filling the space. "Can we talk about what happened yesterday?"

"You mean the tweets?" She asks with an indifferent tone, but you knew the girl well enough to recognize the clenched jaw that hinted at a touch of irritation. "You don't need to say anything. Seriously."

"But..."

"Look, really." Tara cuts you off, crossing her arms and avoiding your gaze. You could feel the growing aggression in her voice. "I'm not in the mood to hear about it right now."

You feel your heart crack a little. It seemed like Tara didn't even want to hear you say that you liked her. Was it some sort of denial? Like if she doesn't hear the words coming out of your mouth, can she pretend your feelings don't exist?

Either way, before you could retort, a familiar voice calls your name in the hallway, and you turn to see Lottie Matthews waving in your direction. But she stops and takes on a surprised expression upon noticing Tara with you. You hear a scoff, and when you turn back, Tara is already walking away, ending the conversation without waiting for your input.

A few seconds later, Lottie arrives by your side in the hallway, looking at you cautiously. "So..."

Feeling hurt not only by Tara's apparent rejection but also by how she seemed so disturbed by the idea of your feelings for her, you simply shake your head in denial, letting tears run down your face to ease the pain you felt on the inside.

You felt Lottie pull you by the wrist towards the bathroom, probably to give you more privacy in that emotional moment, and you were thankful, but you couldn't express anything other than anguish. It felt like your whole world was spinning and falling apart in pieces.

Fuck that shitty bird social media.

"What's wrong with you?!"

Tara and everyone else at the table (Chad, Mindy, and Ethan) looked up in alarm as Anika's impactful entrance echoed in. She dropped her bag onto the wooden surface with a thud and was glaring specifically at Tara with frustration.

"Baby, what-" Mindy tried to speak up, but Anika raised her index finger, and her girlfriend quickly fell silent with a final okay, adhering to the "happy wife, happy life" motto.

Everyone stared at the scene apprehensively, as it was the first time they had seen Anika so upset about something. Even Tara, who had an idea of the reason for her behavior, was just staring in a state of shock and fear.

"Listen, whatever you've done to Y/n, you need to fix it now." Anika emphasized, tapping the tip of her index finger on the table for added effect. "She's been crying her eyes out in the H building's bathroom for the past 40 minutes because of some shit you pulled."

"I… I didn't mean to…" Tara stammered and closed her eyes tightly, feeling a lump in her throat forming from guilt. Once again, Tara remembered one of Sam's warnings about seeking help to better manage her emotions and quietly cursed herself. The last thing she wanted was to hurt you, but she was like a ticking time bomb of negative feelings that unfortunately exploded onto you, who didn't deserve to suffer because of Tara's actions.

"I don't care about what you wanted or didn't want." Anika speaks sternly, not breaking eye contact with Tara. "All I know is that there's a girl who would give the world to you, crying because of your unnecessary rudeness, and you need to fix that."

Tara jumps up and gathers her things quickly, nodding in affirmation and avoiding the inquisitive gazes of their friends. "Yeah… I will. I'll apologize." The others watch her hurry off towards building H, and Anika slumps with exhaustion into the seat next to Mindy, which Tara had previously occupied.

"Do you think they'll finally confess to each other?" Mindy asks, gently petting her girlfriend's head, which now rests on her shoulder.

"They better. I can't go through this again." Anika replies, closing her eyes to enjoy the touch of her girlfriend's fingers through her hair. On the other side of the table, the guys still have wide eyes, processing what they witnessed.

"Uh… You're not gonna explain anything to us, are you?" Ethan questions, gesturing to himself and Chad with quick motions.

The two girls exchange a quick look and respond in unison. "No."

Tara's hands are trembling as she reaches the bathroom door.

Nausea churns within her due to the nervousness of the conversation she's about to have. She knows she'll need to explain the reason for being so rude, which means she'll have to tell you about her feelings, even though she anticipates you'll reject her since you already have someone else in your heart.

Would you at least accept remaining friends? Or had she ruined that option by preventing you from discussing your compromising tweets about Lottie earlier?

With one final sigh and a shake of her head, Tara decides to stop stalling and takes the first step to enter the restroom and get it over with.

The first thing she notices is your back turned towards her. Your silhouette makes it clear you have your arms crossed, leaning your hips against the sink so your weight rests on your left side. The second thing she sees is Charlotte Matthews standing in front of you, using a tissue to wipe your face, which Tara imagines is damp from tears.

Before she could do anything, the soccer player noticed her presence and her mouth formed an "O" shape. Looking between you and Tara, she quickly mumbles, "I'll leave you alone," and exits the restroom, causing you to glance back in questioning.

Tara feels the air being sucked out of her lungs as your eyes meet. Your eyes and nose are red, and she can still see traces of the glistening trail down your cheeks. She takes a step forward and places her hand on the sink, noticing that you're still keeping your arms crossed and prefer looking at your own sneakers rather than at her.

With a sigh, she's the first to break the silence. "I'm sorry about earlier today. I didn't want to hurt you."

"It's okay," you reply, shifting your right foot back and forth. Tara knows that's one of your signs of nervousness. "You can't control how you feel, right?"

The petite girl looks at you in shock, but you don't seem to notice, still looking down. Had she got it right? Did you know about her feelings? "That's true. Maybe I'm being selfish, but... I didn't want to ruin our friendship over this. Is that okay with you?"

You finally look at Tara. Your eyes widen, and you quickly nod. "Of course! I didn't want to lose you just because we're not on the same page. These things happen, right?"

Tara feels her heart ache at the sentence. Was that your way of gently rejecting her? "Yeah. These things happen."

A few seconds of uncomfortable silence pass, but neither of you move, fearing that any wrong move would spoil the small progress you've just made. Again, Tara, with her impatience, initiates the conversation, hating the absence of any sound. "I hope she makes you happy."

She watches as your expression changes to one of confusion, eyebrows furrowed and head tilted to the side. "What?"

"Lottie." Tara points back to where the girl had left a few minutes ago. "She seems... nice. You have good taste."

"You think I like Lottie?!" She's startled by the outraged tone of your question. You take a step closer, as if wanting to hear more clearly what she was saying.

"Wasn't it about her? The tweet you made?" Tara asks, more bewildered than you. "Pretty girl, brown eyes..."

"It was about you!" You burst out, unable to contain the information any longer. "I'm in love with you! The whole time, I was talking about you, Tara! I saw you in yesterday's photo, and you looked so beautiful that... hmph!"

You are silenced by Tara's soft lips meeting yours, initiating a passionate and much-needed kiss from both sides. Your hands descend to her waist as her hands pull you by the nape of your neck, trying to bring you impossibly closer.

Without breaking the kiss, you move clumsily until Tara's back is fully supported against the sink, your arms holding her in place by the hips. She sighs as you part for a breath, and a genuine smile forms on your face.

"Wow." You laugh and pull back slightly, just enough so that your noses are no longer touching. "I wasn't expecting that."

"I thought you knew I liked you." Tara laughs along, playing with the hair at the nape of your neck to try to ease the redness in her own face.

You gently stroke her hip with your thumb. "Is that what you were talking about earlier? I thought you were rejecting me."

"I thought you were rejecting me." She playfully nudges your chest with medium force. Tara's smile becomes a bit more subdued as she moves her hands from your nape to hold your face. "I'm sorry for being rude earlier and hurting you."

You shake your head. "It's okay. Now I know you were just jealous." Your tone is teasing, and you raise your eyebrows twice just to mess with Tara a little more.

"Shut up." She rolls her eyes, smiles, and pulls you by the wrist until you're out of the bathroom. "I'll make it up to you with some ice cream, what do you think?"

"If you throw in a few kisses in the middle of that offer, I might consider."

#scream #scream 5 #scream vi #scream 6 #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #scream x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter imagine #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x you

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gigidragonbbxxx · 2 months

Text

regarding mental diet

discipline. consistency. THIS IS HOW YOU MANIFEST.

it is the discipline and consistency in acknowledging the things in your 3D that you want and ignoring the stuff that you do not identify with.

Yes Gigi, we know that why are you saying something EVERYONE says?

bc dear reader and loass community, i'm gonna say something that might be known but I don't see stated enough:

To be a master manifester, you break your old realities and create new ones - AND A LOT OF PEOPLE HAVE A HARD TIME GETTING ON THIS LEVEL BECAUSE THEY ARE UNWILLING TO LET GO OF HABITS THAT DO NOT SERVE THEM.

AKA = YOU MUST BE BRAVE ENOUGH TO BE DIFFERENT.

You hear me???

YOU MUST BE BRAVE ENOUGH TO BE DIFFERENT.

AND THIS IS WHAT MENTAL DIET IS: NOT GIVING IN TO EVERY TREND, EVERY LIL SONG, EVERY TV SHOW, ETC. IF IT DOES NOT HELP YOUR MIND BE SATURATED WITH BEING IN YOUR FAVOR.

I'll cite an example many of us go through: a friend who doesn't know the law and only wants to talk about how horrible men are. This friend is also addicted to complaining. What have so many loass practicing people have said? They've either 1) told that friend they don't want to talk about that stuff or 2) spent less time with that friend.

it's an experience so many in the community go through and many benefit from limiting their exposure to that type of person. because what is the point of spending time affirming lies like "life has to be hard" "life is unfair" "I always get treated like shit by men" "I'm never first choice" like EW!? guys, learn to get the ICK from this type of talk!!! there is no benefit from this energy.

YOU GET TO DECIDE WHAT YOU WANT TO EXPOSE YOURSELF TO. SO STOP MINGLING WITH ENERGY THAT DOES NOT SERVE YOU. IF YOU HAVE TIME TO THINK BADLY, YOU HAVE TIME TO THINK POSITIVELY!!!

Be willing to WALK AWAY. Be willing to be the one to say "This is not for me" if a convo is full of limited beliefs. Be willing to not participate in trends like making tiktoks about self deprecating jokes or tweet about toxic things. Be willing to say "Oh i never say those things about myself."

Let me explain what prompted me to write this:

I saw THE CUTEST lil key chains or cases made by a small business. I love to reblog cute things on my main account on twt (not my loass burner) and tbh I've manifested getting some of those cute things by making a lil placebo that whatever I retweet is mine/fact.

The first case/keychain thing was "Tummy Ache Survivor" which I thought was hilarious as I have a lot of Virgo energy in my life but the second image showcased another that said something along the lines of "Daily Dose of Dumb Baby Juice".

Guys.

Please.

Does a master manifester drink dumb baby juice? Or is she the operant power full of knowledge and wisdom leading a fulfilling life?

Now, I'm not a limiting typa gal okay? You can totally be "baby". You can totally live a soft live. Be a baby. Hell, I love being baby in a relationship. What I'm saying is even seemingly "harmless" things like that phrase...you have to have discernment in what could be unfavorable influences in your life.

Again, Gigi isn't telling you how to live your life. If you wanna declare "fuck off Gigi! I'm a dumb baby AND I manifest!" go ahead. If you wanna declare "fuck off Gigi! I can consume ANY CONTENT I want and manifest!" GO AHEAD.

BUT LETS DISCUSS SOME OBSERVATIONS IVE MADE ABOUT THE BIGGEST LOA COACHES/ACCOUNTS WITH THE MOST SUCCESS:

all of them. 100% of them. are careful about what they expose themselves to/say about themselves.

BECAUSE DOMINANT BELIEFS ARE WHAT MANIFESTS. SO WHY WASTE TIME CONSUMING CONTENT THAT GOES AGAINST WHAT YOU WANT YOUR DOMINANT THOUGHT PATTERN TO BE? MAKE IT MAKE SENSE!!!

and I get the resistance to cut off things you mightve enjoyed. But i said it before and I'll repeat it again.

YOU MUST BE BRAVE ENOUGH TO BE DIFFERENT.

things gigi had to cut off:

sad songs on daily playlists

reality tv glorifying toxicity in relationships

accounts on twt that leaned heavily on "men are trash" mindset

conversations that were self-deprecating

and more but those are a few examples.

and you know what I have more time to do now, reader?

I have more time to affirm, to listen to subs, to write on this blog.

Because Manifestion is a Lifestyle. It's not a quick fix bc the outcome depends on the SOLIDITY of your BELIEF to enact CHANGE on the 3D.

so pls don't drink dumb baby juice. drink pretty girl juice. drink intelligent master manifester juice. drink "in my favor" juice.

with laughs and love, xx, gigi

p.s. I do not believe that this is an excuse to remain ignorant about world events and news. I encourage you to remain informed, intelligent people who do not lack awareness and instead are fully immersed in the nuance of balancing high self-esteem and understanding the political climate.

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lovewithmary · 5 months

Text

(not) moving on — a max verstappen x stark!oc x charles leclerc series

★ fc: madison beer ☆ summary: evangeline "evie" stark is in love with her best friend, max verstappen, but he tries his best to keep her at arm's length. but what happens when she starts to get close to his fellow drivers in the paddock? ★ notes: since the chapters will be more like one shots, requests about stuff you want to see with evie, charles, and max are now open!

previous next series masterlist

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 3209192 others

eviestark: max and i lost charles at the pet store trying to buy jimmy and sassy stuff... then we found charles sat on the floor, playing with mimi

needless to say, welcome to the stark-verstappen-leclerc household mimi! 🫶

comments

user1: OKAY BUT HOW DID SASSY AND JIMMY REACT TO MIMI? ↳ eviestark: it was surprisingly chill 😭 however max was worried that they were gonna react badly to mimi and vice versa ↳ maxverstappen1: I wasn't worried, I just didn't want the pets to get hurt if they fought ↳ eviestark: says the one who refused to let go of jimmy and sassy from your arms so charles and I had to convince you 😭😭

user2: stark-verstappen-leclerc household? sounds like a mouthful 🫡 ↳ eviestark: it is 😉 ↳ charles_leclerc: EVIE! ↳ maxverstappen1: ANG! ↳ eviestark: what? you try to say our last names in a row and see how successful you are the first time 🙄 ↳ user3: it's like evie has no pr training ↳ eviestark: oh, I have, I just choose to ignore it

user4: jimmy, sassy, and mimi are probably the most spoiled pets in the world rn ↳ eviestark: tonystark and pepperstark have their very own pet store in the tower... at this point, I'm inclined to agree ↳ tonystark: well i have no choice considering you think of us as your pet babysitters and you keep on making us babysit ↳ user5: tony stark being a pet grandfather was something I didn't know I needed until now ↳ tonystark: me being a grandfather to a bunch of pets wasn't something I dreamed of doing, trust me ↳ eviestark: you love my children, don't act :( ↳ tonystark: you once texted me "you're a grandpapa!" and i nearly had a heart attack until i realized you were talking about JIMMY, SASSY, AND MIMI

eviestark’s instagram story

"That vet doesn't know what he's saying! How could he even say that?!" Max angrily said, holding Mimi like one would hold a baby, with Mimi's head resting on Max's shoulder.

Meanwhile, Evie and Charles were holding Jimmy and Sassy, amused at how Max was reacting to what the veterinarian had said. "Max, it's not really a big deal—" Charles tried saying, but Max cut him off.

"Not a big deal?! He called Mimi—" Max cut himself off so he could adjust Mimi to cover her ears (as if she could understand what he was saying) and whisper, "overweight,"

"He just suggested to make her portions of food smaller and to take more walks," Evie tried saying to calm Ma down but to no avail.

"Smaller portions?! Does he want her to starve? Also, Mimi is very active, she goes on runs with us every time and she loves it!" Max argued.

"Maxie, I'm not arguing with you, I'm just saying that he only suggested it, and we don't have to follow it," Evie told him, and thankfully, it helped in calming his anger, no matter how amusing found how angry he got for Mimi.

As the three started walking to the car, Charles and Evie could just hear Max cooing to Mimi. "We're not going to listen to him, you are beautiful just the way you are," he quietly reassured the dog, who was not aware of what just happened.

Evie turned to Charles and said, "Remember when Max said he didn't know if he could love Mimi as much as he loves Jimmy and Sassy when you first got him?"

Charles nodded and said, "Now I'm starting to think that he might love Mimi more than he loves us,"

#f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 x oc #f1 x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 ig au #f1 x you #f1 oc #f1 smau #f1 social media au #max verstappen x oc #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fic #max verstappen smau #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x oc #charles leclerc smau

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thought--bubble · 3 months

Text

Same as it was

Aegon II X (Prostitute Reader)

Warnings after the cut

Word Count: 2432

Aegon Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Snake Banners by @arcielee

Caution Banner by @zaldritzosrose

Warnings:: dirty smut. There really isn't much plot lol. Oral (M & F Receiving) , Squirting kink, Overstim, cum play. Infidelity (technically).

A/N: This is my first attempt on Aegon and is based on some head cannons I have of him. I am totally open to any comments or suggestions about writing him.

"He's a damn usurper!" You whisper hushed to Marella.

Marella is your madame for lack of a better term.

"You're his favorite girl, and he has ordered you specifically. There is nothing I can do. " She grits her teeth and continues shuffling through dresses and holding them up against your body.

"I... I can't! When Queen Rhanyera inevitably comes to claim her throne, I'll be killed!" You bite at your fingernails, anxiety pumping through your body with such harshness you were afraid your knees would buckle.

"You place far too much importance upon yourself. You're a whore. They likely would just pass you off to someone else."

Your stomach turns at the thought. You don't mind working in the brothel. It feels safe. You have the madame and the other girls if something were to go wrong, but this, what Aegon is asking for, It's just too much.

"Why can't he just come here as he always has?" You plead with Marella desperate for her to understand your plight.

"Because he is a king at war. He can not just frolick into town and fuck a whore in his leisure time. He is being watched, and there is a bounty on his head!" Marella chooses a plain looking green dress that hugs your feminine curves. "Here put this on"

"NO! I'm not going!" You rip the dress from Marella's hands and toss it onto the bed. "If there is a bounty on his head and they come looking for that head while I am in his bed, what is to happen to me then?" You look at her expectantly with eyes wide. She couldn't possibly send you there knowing you will most likely be killed. Could she?

"You would most likely be killed. But if you do not do what he tells you to do, you could be killed right now." Marella picks the dress back up off the bed, shoving it harshly against your chest. "Die now or die later. That is your choice. King Aegon has made his choice, and that choice is to have you, up at the castle for him to call upon as he so pleases, I have grown to care for you over the years but not enough to cross the King! Now get dressed!"

You know she's right. Aegon wanted you badly enough that he sent two guards to escort you back to the keep. A place you knew you didn't belong. Queen Heleana is there. You have heard the stories of her generosity and kindness but how kind could she be to her husband's favorite whore?

Not to mention the ever so pious dowager queen, who no doubt would sooner set herself on fire then show any kindness to a whore who regularly services her married son.

"Why me?" You whimper to yourself as you drop the current brown dress you are wearing to swap it with the green one Marcella had chosen for you.

Marcella chuckles from behind you. "Never know with men. Sometimes they find that one thing they like and that's it. Whatever it is for Aegon, it seems you have it."

You roll your eyes and huff as you shake your head in disbelief. "Gods." You look up to the ceiling as soon as you have the dress on. Fighting back tears. He is going to get you killed, and you know exactly why, all because of that one thing you do in bed that he always claims is "so rare."

You straighten your back and shake out your limbs before you exit the room head held high, walking directly to the two men who had been sent to fetch you.

"Put this on." One of the men handed you a hooded cloak. You quickly put it on and lower your gaze. You were going to go with these men and hope that at some point in the future, there would be a chance for you to escape. One of the men grips your upper arm tightly as he leads you out of the brothel, and the three of you head up to the red keep. Each step bringing you closer and closer to your new life as the King's personal whore.

As soon as you breech the gate, the men move faster, and the man holding your arm pushes your head down further. Clearly, this was a mission that was to be completed without alerting other members of the royal family or council.

It is only once you are ushered into a chamber that you are finally allowed to lift your head. "Stay here." is all the man says before swiftly exiting the room.

That final bang of the heavy door slamming makes you flinch. "This is it, isn't it?" You hold your stomach feeling like the little bit of food you ate this morning might make a second appearance.

"I am going to be imprisoned in this room, as the King comes and goes as he wants." You push the hood back off of your head and look around the chamber.

It is the most beautiful room you have ever been in. Luxurious quilts are laying across the top of the large oak bed. A chaise placed strategically by the window a bookshelf to the left.

A small table and two chairs off to the side of the hearth and a wash basin in the corner of the room. If you had to make a choice in being locked up somewhere, this was probably one of the better options.

You take the cloak off and hang it over the back of one of the chairs and reach for the wine that was left on the table. You pour yourself a large cup and start to chug it, and as soon as you finish, move to pour yourself another as you hear the large door opening.

You close your eyes tight, you haven't seen him but you know it's him. That familiar chill crawls up your spine and the back of your neck, alerting you to his presence.

In truth, he is not a cruel man. As far as targaryens went, he was actually quite gentle. But he has a hunger that is incredibly hard to satiate. It's like he is empty and is desperate to fill the empty space with anything, sex, drink, food, anything he can get his hands on.

"How are you settling?" Aegon wastes no time at all quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist as he presses himself up against your back.

"Why am I here? You know you could always just send for me. " You feel him push your hair to one shoulder and start trailing soft kisses along your neck.

"Then I would have to await your arrival and hope you aren't busy with other customers." He gently nibbles up the side of your neck while sliding the flat palms of his hands up your stomach and over your breasts.

"This way, you're always right here when I need you." He presses himself tightly up against your ass. His hardness was evident through his trousers. "And I need you right now." He nips at the top of your shoulder, sending waves of pleasure through your entire being.

"And if someone asks who I am? Why I am here? In such nice chambers?" He chuckles into the crook of your neck.

"No one will ask. I'm the king I do as I like. " He whispers sensually into the shell of your ear as he pulls your dress down off your shoulders. "You know what it is I want"

You know exactly what he wants and how he wants it. That is why you are his favorite. You slide the dress the rest of the way down your form, stepping out of it.

You turn towards him a lustful gleam in your eye as you take his bottom lip between your teeth. "Of course I do your grace".

He takes your head between his hands and kisses you like you are air, and he has been suffocating. The neediness radiates off of him in waves.

You push him back and chuckle as you walk toward the bed. He might be a king and a feared man out there in the land of westeros, but in here, in this room, he is a desperate wanton fool and has no qualms with displaying it. He follows on your heels reaching his hands out trying to get hold of you once again.

You crawl onto the bed on all fours as he excitedly tears at his clothes, desperate to remove them as quickly as possible.

You stay positioned on your knees on the bed waiting for him. You have done this so many times, you know exactly how to start.

He jumps into the bed and lays down flat, pumping himself to hardness while he waits for you. "C'mon, C'mere," He whines as he reaches his hand out towards you.

You can't help but giggle at his desperation as you lift your thigh up over his head and bring your heat just above his face.

"Oh, thank you, beautiful." He says as you smother him with your cunt just the way he likes it. He dives in lapping at your soft inside while flicking your nub with his finger. His other hand pushing at your back urging you to get to work.

The feeling is overwhelmingly good, sending shocks of pleasure down your legs with tingling in your toes. You lean forward and take his cock into your mouth as he grunts loudly into your heat.

"Yessss, that is it" He growls and rubs his entire face into your cunt jamming his tongue inside your body with the finesse of an extremely practiced partner.

You moan onto his cock your drool dripping down the sides and pooling amongst the short silver hairs at its base. He moves his hips up jamming his cock further down your throat.

You make sure to take it as far as you can, fighting the urge to gag as the heat in your stomach builds up to an incredibly compact tightness.

You roll your hips dragging your cunt along his face feeling the smile he presses against your folds. He is in his favorite place burried in the cunt of his favorite whore. He harshly takes your hips in his hands pushing you down further onto his face. Lesser men would suffocate, but Aegon could breath you in all day and remain upright and alert.

He sucks and licks at your clit with precision knowing exactly how to make you topple over the edge and as soon as you do he brings his fingers to your clit and vigorously rubs in quick circles overstimulating the nerve to get exactly what he wants.

When your legs clench tight and you gasp with his cock hanging out of your mouth he knows he is about to be rewarded with his favorite treat. He opens his mouth wide as you gush over his face like a fountain, and he attempts to catch every drop.

He had accidentally found out that you were capable of such things one night down at the brothel and that is how you became his favorite whore. You always found it comical when the other girls would tell you of the borderline torturous overstimulation he would put them through just to test if they would do the same thing.

Aegon laughs with glee as he pushes you off of him. You assume the next position placing your cheek flush against the quilt of the bed, leaning your ass up in the air.

"See? Fully trained. Why wouldn't I bring you up here?" He chuckles giddily to himself as he grips your hips, placing you directly in front of him while he slowly slides himself into you. He loves to watch. He is a visual man this much you had learned. He spreads your cheeks apart so he can see clearly as his cock slides in and out, your wetness collecting at the base.

"I swear it gets better every time" He speeds up his movements gripping your cheeks harder as he continues to watch himself fuck into you with a look of utter satisfaction on his face. "This cunt. Somehow its perfect, does just what I want"

"Yes your grace" You feed into his need to be respected, you had learned that quite sometime ago, he wants to dominate, feel a sense of power and control that he just does not have in his every day life.

He ruts into you harder hitting that sweet spot with accuracy. He's been fucking you for years he knows your insides, probably better then you do at this point.

He brings one hand down around to your clit and rubs against it with moderate pressure.

"One more" He barks out with strained desperation. "C'mon"

As if Aegon's mere voice could command your body, you found yourself spiraling toward another release.

"Yes, your grace, as you wish!" You moan as he drills down into you gasping for air and rubbing your pearl furiously as once, again he makes you see stars, quickly changing the motion of his hand from a circle to a vigorous rub the overstimulation making your legs shake.

"Give me it, Give me it!" He commands, slamming into you with such force the posts of the bed shake. Everything around you slows down as the buzzing in your ears grows louder, and with one final screech, you give him what he wants and splash all over his hand and the quilt beneath you.

He then brings his wet hand up to your hip to hold you in place as he nearly impales you while chasing his peak, he reaches his end quickly with a snarl and as he does he pulls out and releases himself all over your backside spreading it over your cheeks and enjoying the shimmer of your skin covered in his spend as he rides out his high.

Aegon collapses down onto the bed with a laugh as you turn back to look at him.

"This is why you're here. War is stressful." He chuckles. "I won't have time to travel to that damned brothel as many times as I am going to need you."

"Need me?" You move up the bed careful to avoid the wet mess you had just left.

He gently strokes your cheek with his thumb. "Yes, I need you, and once I catch my breath, I think I'll need you again"

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#aegon the second #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x reader #king aegon #hotd aegon #aegon targaryen #aegon ii #tom glynn carney #jess fics

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asunflowerana · 6 months

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episode one: prom is near, and your sweet, popular friend will do anything to have you as his date. (Yandere Series)

with: Gojo Satoru.

warnings: yandere behavior, slight blood mentions.

words: 1448.

"Go to prom with me." It's not what you'd expect to hear on a Tuesday morning, right after a wearing History class. Even more so coming from the mouth of no other than Gojo Satoru, the coolest, most desired boy in school.

Yes, you've been friends with him for almost a year. And yes, you get on very well together, crack some side-jokes at classes, sometimes go out to grab some food, do homework at the library, and even stay up at night until sunrise on the phone, freaking out while studying for a math exam that none of you knew about it — or not paying attention, to be more honest.

So yeah, you're friends. But it's Gojo Satoru we're talking about. And Gojo Satoru is just way out of anyone's league.

You're simply dumbfounded.

"I—" You swallow hard, feeling like you just lost your memory and no longer know how to complete sentences. You're feeling a lot of things, honestly, the guy you've had so many daydreams with saying he wants to have you as his partner, and there you are, a pile of nerves trying to hide the hard, loud way your heart beats inside.

And it's not that you don't want to accept it. Heck, you want to yes so badly, how many times did you catch yourself watching those sappy romcoms and wondering if you and the white-haired boy would make a fine couple like that. He's the whole package, and if those gorgeous blue eyes and jaw-dropping looks weren't enough, he's also so kind to you, that you can't help but develop a crush.

But as expected, he didn't catch only your attention, but the whole school as well. Kaya Nami, one of the troublemaker cheerleaders, is in the line and does everything she can to make sure nothing gets in her way.

"If I were you, I'd stay away from Satoru Gojo. You won't like having me as an enemy, believe me." She threatened you last Friday, right during PE class. Confused wasn't enough to describe how you felt, but you didn't say anything back to not cause drama, only nodding and watching her head off like nothing happened.

"...I'm sorry Satoru, but I can't." And unfortunately, that warning was enough to hinder you from making the choice you wanted.

It goes without saying how astounded Gojo was by your answer, that probably being his first time ever being rejected. "What do you mean 'you can't'?" And then his tone dropped an octave, changing to something more seething. "Did someone ask you? You said yesterday to me that you didn't get invited."

"And you're right, I didn't get." You try to reason, not liking the way he's bothered by your rejection. " it's just... I didn't think you wanted to go with me!" And you didn't lie, even though you said it more as an excuse.

"Well, now you know." He gets closer, almost making you hit your back at the locker behind you. His eyes say he didn't buy any of your excuses. "So, why you still can't? I mean, I know how unsettling my beauty can be, but you're just as pretty, sweetheart."

His mood suddenly changes to the usual Gojo Satoru, the cheeky guy who enjoys flustering you for fun. Grazing your chin between his index and thumb, he looks deep at you. "I'll give you the best time you ever had. Just be my date."

It takes everything on you to not jump in his arms and let yourself get swept off your feet. Why does he have to make this so difficult? Taking a deep breath, you remember the headache you're gonna get if you don't make the right choice. "Satoru, I'd love to be your date, really. It's just, I think there's someone else that would make a better date than me."

He stares at you with an unreadable expression. You don't know if he got angrier or had enough of your pitiful answers, but you wish you could be able to read only a fraction of Satoru's mind, cause he's staring for too long at you, and you don't know what else to say other than stare back at him.

Finally, he steps back, diverting his gaze to a random spot for a moment before moving to look at you again. Sliding his hands inside his pants pockets, he seems to accept the situation, but you're still not sure of what you see. "I guess you're not changing your mind, huh? Then tell me, who's this 'perfect match' that you think would be better for me?" He questions with a hint of disdain, but he tries to hide it with a small side smile.

The girl appears in the scene before you can mention her name as if she was waiting for the right opportunity to pounce and make her move on him. By the way your shoulders slump and your eyes lower to the ground, he quickly assumes that she's the person you were talking about earlier and that for some reason, she's making you very uncomfortable. Not you nor Nami noticed the way Gojo glowers at a blank spot. Thinking, he mindlessly accepts the blond girl's invitation to lunch, giving you a brief hug before going away. "If that's what you want." He whispers unexpectedly in your ear, offering you a final smile before letting himself be guided to the cafeteria.

You spend the rest of the days wanting to beat yourself for wasting the chance you had to go out with Satoru. You don't talk to him as much during the week, since Nami was making sure to grab every second of his free time at break. It didn't take too long to figure out that both of them would go to prom together, and even though you were the one who made that happen, it still stings to imagine them having a good time.

Prom day arrives, and in the end, no one invites you. It wasn't something completely unexpected, but to be honest, you were hoping that at least one of your friends would be kind enough to want you as a company just so you could all enjoy the "night to remember". Honestly, you didn't want to miss such an important event, and even though there was a chance that you'd make a fool of yourself, it's still your prom, and you have the right to make the most of it, with or without someone.

Kicking' away the self-pity, you dressed up and got ready for the special night, wearing that beautiful gown that you remember once showing on Pinterest to Satoru, months before the event. Checking your purse one more time, you catch your phone to ask for a cab, when you hear three familiar knocks on your front door.

Opening your house, you come face to face with someone you never would've imagined seeing at that moment. There stood Gojo Satoru, with a black tuxedo that perfectly accentuates his body, a bouquet of pink camellias in his left hand, glasses off, and a beautiful lopsided smile.

"...Wow." The combo of his honest compliment, his lingering, fond gaze in your direction, and the fact that you made him momentarily speechless, makes your whole self overwhelmed with endearing sensations, especially your warm cheeks.

But that passes too quickly since you don't understand the sudden visit.

"S-Satoru? What are you doing here?" You didn't want this to be the first thing to say to him, but you're so confused, that you don't know what else to say. "I thought you were going out with Nami. Where is she?"

Awakening from the brief trance you provoked in him, the white-haired boy only increases his smile in a rather strange way. " Didn't you know? Mina got in an accident yesterday, she fell from the stairs and ended up breaking her leg."

One more time, you were taken by surprise. As for your friend, he doesn't sound as worried as you imagined he would be after giving this message, but he still makes a respectful pause after saying it.

Satoru also notices your reaction, observing the way you empathetic self got sad for that girl's situation. Little did you know, that she got exactly what deserved. And if you looked more closely at your gift, instead of worrying yourself, you'd notice the blood stains around the wrapping paper, the remains of what your future partner did to prove his love.

To his luck, you're just too pure to realize what you don't need to. And for that, Satoru smiles, gazing at you with sparks again.

"So now, will you go to prom with me?"

n: not me enjoying writing about yandere! gojo and remembering his maniac face at the show 😊thank you for the request, my darling @quirrrky, I hope you enjoy it!

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated. ❤️

taglist: @vemuabhi @ceriphina @taurus852

#{ w.jjk }#❧ Yandere Series #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere gojo #yandere x reader #halloween event #gojo x reader #gojo x you

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sourlove · 12 days

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My Mistake ~ YANDERE TODOROKI SHOTO

TW: KIDNAPPING (REGRETFULLY), DELUSION, BLACKMAIL, IMPLIED MURDER, IMPLIED VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF MAFIA AND GANG ACTIVITIES

A/N: THIS WAS INSPIRED BY A 'REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPT' ORIGINALLY CREATED BY @out-of-jams

"Listen, I know this might seem sudden, but I have to get this off my chest. I think I've fallen in love with you."

Slowly, you turn to face owner of the heterochromatic eyes gazing up at you. From where he was tied up. On a chair. In your basement.

"...come again?"

The man you had just kidnapped, with the intent of holding for ransom, blushed. "I think- no, I know I've fallen in love with you."

You smiled faintly, emphasis on 'faint' because there was nothing you wanted to do more than pass out and wake up from this nightmare. Todoroki Shoto was nothing but a spoiled, rich kid on paper. Sure, his father had significant power but that also meant you could charge much more for his release when you kidnapped him.

Unfortunately, hindsight was a coldhearted bitch. How were you supposed to know that he had his own fucking gang? What 23 year old man had that kind of power?? Why is it that the one time you decide to test your luck to get some extra cash, you kidnap a mafia boss???

"From the moment you tried to use that chloroform on me, I-I felt something," Todoroki rambled, interrupting your thoughts. "I was confused at first at the audacity but once I pretended to faint and you dragged me, very painfully I must say, to your van, I knew it had to be fate. I had read about fate before, but I never imagined that it would be this..." He trailed off and stared at your face in dreamlike wonder. "...beautiful."

You laughed awkwardly, silently noting the possibility of brain damage from when you moved him. "That's great man, but look-"

"It's more than great!" He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming excitedly as the ropes strained against him. "Nothing has ever made me feel this way before: flowers, money, the works, but the moment you tied me up, I knew we were-!"

"Look the whole kidnapping thing was a mistake. okay?" You interrupted abruptly. You ran your hands through your hair in frustration. Who knows how long you had until someone found you?

Todoroki's smile melted of his face. "A...mistake?"

"Yes! Exactly! It was just a wrong place, wrong time kind of situation! And I am sooooo sorry so let's just forget this ever happened and I'll even drop you off wherever you need to go." You finished with a nice 'im-so-sorry-for-kidnapping-you-please-dont-kill-me' smile.

He stared at you blankly for a full minute, making you sweat nervously. There was obviously a screw loose in his head and you really hoped you hadn't provoked him too badly.

"So you mean you never planned to kidnap me?" he asked quietly.

You shook your head. "I didn't. I'm sorry? I think..."

The silence echoed throughout the basement as precious seconds ticked by. Your hands itched to do something, but what? You weren't a murderer and there was no way you wouldn't face some kind of consequence so the only way out was to convince him to let the matter slide.

"Liar."

Todoroki chuckled at your dumbfounded expression. "Do you really I would believe that you kidnapped me, Shoto Todoroki, for a mere ransom?" He smiled adoringly up at you and you felt a chill run down your spine. "You wouldn't do something like this," he nodded down at his binds "For someone you don't love."

You backed away slowly. "Hey, you've got the wrong idea, I-"

"No, no I don't have wrong ideas," Todoroki drawled. "In fact I think I might be very right about this one soon."

"W-what...?" Suddenly, a loud pounding came from your front door above the basement. Loud, angry voices spilled into your home and stomped around, obviously looking for something. Or someone.

Todoroki looked almost apologetic as he smiled. "It looks like you'll have to make your choice now, my love. You just ran out of time."

You swore and hastily began cutting at his rope bindings as he watched in amusement. Fuck it. It was better to hang off the arm of this psycho than get caught by his men as his kidnapper. And he knew it too. You wanted to punch his stupidly pretty smug face.

"I'm so glad you decided to see thing my way, darling," Todoroki sighed, wrapping his arms around you. "And since you wanted me so badly, I'll give you exactly what you desire." He pressed your foreheads together just as the basement door splintered open.

"From now on, I'm never letting you out of my sight~"

READ PART 2 HERE

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logyisthemaincharacter · 1 month

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First time

Series link

A/n: Do not engage if you don't like smut, thank you.

I roll out of bed, not being able to fall asleep. There's been a lot on my mind lately, and I can't seem to shake it off. I walk over to the window, peeking over my shoulder to see if Jack is still asleep.

I'm staying with him for the night after we attended a celebration for his record label earlier.

In my 22 years and a few months of living, I have never had sex before. I've had sexual interactions before but never had a penis in my vagina.

It feels so embarrassing 'cause Jack is so experienced and I, on the other hand, don't even know how to suck a cock to begin with. After what happened at his party, I told him about my virginity, and nothing has happened ever since.

He's not touching my butt anymore and hasn't even let me sit on his lap to avoid unexpected hard-ons. And honestly, I want to feel him.

It's not that he's being distant, but I just want him to be less cautious around me. I don't want him to apologize for squeezing my thigh or for pressing his dick against my ass when we're cuddling. I want him to take charge.

I hear shuffling behind me, indicating that Jack is waking up. U turn around and give him a soft smile even though he can't really see it in the darkness.

"What are you doing up this late?" His raspy voice muffles as he covers himself.

"I couldn't sleep." I slowly walk over to the door. "I'm just gonna get something to drink."

I walk outside and down the hall to the kitchen. I grab a bottle of water and lean against the fridge taking a big gulp, letting my eyes shut.

How am I going to tell him how I feel? I really want this. I hate it, and I'm so mad at myself for it. But I need this. I need him to rut against me and make me explode, not like a bomb but like a woman, so, so badly. God, I need to scream my lungs out as he makes love to me like his eyes promises me every single time he looks at me, ever since I told him about my innocence. I hate this need.

I run my hand over my breasts as I imagine him touching me, planting kisses to my neck. My hand goes further down my body, finding my bud through my pants.

The image of his face planted between my legs pops up in my mind. The way he knew exactly what would give my body the most pleasure drives me insane. It's like he already knew every nook and corner of my body.

"Cheesecake, what are you doing in the dark? Come back to bed." I open my eyes, standing up straight, seeing Jack standing there, rubbing his eyes.

"I was just savoring the water. I'll be right there." I finish the bottle and toss it in the trash can.

"I can't fall asleep if you're so restless." He comes to me and picks me up bridal style, carrying me back to his bedroom. "What's going on in that pretty mind of yours?" He asks as soon as we're cuddled under the sheets, holding my hand in his, placing a kiss on my knuckles.

"You know we can talk about it in the morning. You're so tired already."

"No, tell me."

This is it. I'm about to fight my demons and I don't know if I'll win the battle.

I take a deep breath, collecting my sanity, "What happened between us at your party..."

"Once again, I'm so sorry my love. I didn't think that it would still bother you." He sits up a little, very alert now.

"You have it all wrong." I sit up, crossed-legged, facing him. "I feel like the fact that I'm a virgin scared you from doing it again. You don't even wanna touch me in a way that's intimate. And it's all I want you to do!"

And now I'm going to regret for saying what's about to come next.

I sit a little closer to him, "I'm ready, Jack. I'm ready for you to take my virginity. I've been ready for quite a while now."

Jack looks taken aback. He takes a big gulp and lets his head hang low, "I didn't know that's how you felt. I just didn't want to make it seem that I'm putting pressure on you. It's supposed to be your choice on when and how it should happen."

"Well, can it happen now? I've never wanted this more than anything."

He pushes me down gently, his body hovering over mine, "And you're sure about it?"

I nod and smile nervously. I lean in to kiss him, my heartbeat becoming unsteady. His lips slant over mine, hot and needy as his tongue tastes my mouth and his arms hold me so tightly.

I move my hands down his back, tugging on the hem of his shirt. He neglects my lips for a while to take it off and tosses it to the floor.

My skin feels flush, and my nipples hard as stones. And the ache between my thighs are so intense that it takes a monumental effort to keep me from pulling him closer to me.

His head leans back down again and his mouth closes over my earlobe, his tongue wet and dexterous as he sucks. I go limp in his arms, my eyes fluttering close with a sigh. He hums from deep in his chest, the sound so close to a moan. My body responds in every erogenous zone I have, plus a few I hadn't known existed.

He attaches his lips to my exposed skin just below my ear. I gasp as soon as his lips touch my neck and I can feel his smile against my skin. Another hum, this one edging on a growl. His hips roll into mine to press his hard length against a very, very sensitive part of me.

His dick grows harder by the second, causing the pool in my pants to grow. His head turn so his lips are on mine again. This kiss is way more intense than the one from before, as if he's inhaling my breath.

His hand shifts between us lifting my shirt up, breaking the kiss as he takes it off. He sits up, staring at my chest before he slides his fingers over my nipples. Suddenly he begins moving his hands everywhere, sliding over my arms, caressing my breasts, my hips, my thighs.

He takes my breast in his mouth, drawing circles with his tongue around my nipple. His hand doesn't leave my other boob unoccupied, rolling my rock-hard nipple between his fingers. He switches frequently, making sure my boobs get the same amount of care.

With his mouth and his hands, he slides down my body, leaving a hot, wet trail on my belly. I shiver under his touch and allow my fingers to rake through his hair. He pulls my pants and underwear down in a swift move, pushes my thighs apart, kissing them tenderly, spurring on my gasps and moans. And then he moves slightly, so that his mouth is on my sex.

I gasp and clutch at his head, as his tongue slips through my folds. Jack holds me firmly so that my body stays in place and he casually strokes me, his tongue dipping in and out languidly at first, tasting me, exploring each crevice, moving up to the core, then down again, to where my body throbs. As my groans and writhing increases, seemingly his urgency does as well. He strokes me harder, his mouth covering me, and I shoot my body up, pressing my vagina against his face.

He licks and sucks me into a frenzy of delicious torment, until I'm literally gasping for breath. And then I cry out, "FUCK!" I release an orgasm that was long awaited for.

Jack lifts his head up after placing a gentle kiss on my clit. He sits up in front of me, smiling widely, "I missed doing that."

I blush and cover myself up, realizing how naked I am. Jack is quick to pull the sheet away from my body, exposing myself to him. In silence he stares at my body, swallowing hard, the moonlight emphasizing the side of it.

I take the opportunity to stare at his chest. I haven't really had a good enough look at whenever I've seen him shirtless. The shape of his body is lovely, like the David statue Michelangelo created. I reach out to touch him, to run my fingers across the hard skin of his stomach.

His response is immediate and startling. He sucks his breath and closes his eyes, his body going very still. I run my fingers along the waistband of his trousers, heart pounding, hardly knowing what I'm doing. I dip my fingers inside, pushing his pants and underwear down. My breath hitches in my throat as his erection jumps out, hitting his stomach.

Before I can have a further look at his dick, he leans to the side of the bed, fumbling for the drawer on the nightstand, grabbing a condom. He quickly tears the wrapper with his teeth.

I prop up on my elbows, wondering how he'll fit inside me, "Can I put it on?"

His eyes widen slightly in surprise but nods, "Y-Yeah. Just remember to leave the tip open."

I take the condom from him, rolling it on him, using both my hands to do it, both hands to stroke and tickle him and make him absolutely crazy. Before I can explore any further, he grabs my hands.

"You'll have enough time for that. Right now, it's all about you." He looks in my eyes as he speaks.

I lay back, making myself comfortable. He hovers over me, aligning his shaft with my hole.

"Tell me when to stop, okay." He pecks my lips, resting his head against mine.

"I trust you, Jack."

Just then he pushes himself in slowly. I groan at the discomfort and Jack grunts, trying to fit his whole length inside me. I bite my lip, trying to hold back the tears. Along with the discomfort and pain I'm feeling, I'm also embarrassed. This all comes so easy for him. I don't even know what to do!

Just when more negative thoughts start evading my head, Jack speaks softly, "You're so perfect."

He starts moving his hips slowly. I grip onto his shoulders, trying to bare the pain. A whimper escapes my lips, giving it away.

"Should I stop?" Jack lifts his head, a concerned look on his face.

I look in his eyes reassuringly, "No! Just go a little faster. I'll be fine."

His thrusts become slightly faster as he plants a loving kiss on my lips. The pain eventually vanishes after a while and he speeds the pace up. A shock of ecstasy drowns me in warmth as he thrusts harder. My body is burning with lust fire. Need and desire rages like a storm, and I feel ready to combust. There is something so sexy about this position. As if he's in complete control. All I have to do is let him manipulate my body, and in return, he gives me pleasure like I've never known.

"Yes! Just like that." I let out between moans.

And that was all it took. He groans as I clench around him, his hands in my hair, his eyes wildly roaming my face, driving into me, over and over and over again until he closes his eyes and finds a very hot and very potent release with a strangled cry, which a return with a loud moan, finally reaching my orgasm. With one last, residual shudder, he collapses on top of me and kisses my forehead.

We lay there in silence, catching our breaths. He nuzzles his face in my neck, stroking my head. I can't help but smile at what just happened. My cherry popped, and Jack was the one to do it.

"Bear, I don't think this is gonna be so comfortable for long. You'll crush me."

"Shit, sorry!" He gets off of me, wincing, realizing he was still inside me.

I help him take the condom off and wait for him while he goes to throw it away in the bathroom. I cover myself with the sheets, watching as he moves across the room in the dark.

He gets in beside me, pulling me in a cuddling position, "How do you feel?"

I grin widely as I rub circles on his hairy chest, "It's a little sore down there but otherwise I feel great. I'm lucky that it happened with you."

"I'm just glad you enjoyed it." He strokes up and down my arm. "Next time you can do whatever you want, I promise."

I lean up and kiss him, "I actually like it when you're in control."

"How about we discuss our newly found sex life at breakfast and rest for now?"

"Good idea."

#jack harlow #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x oc #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x you #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow smut

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in1-nutshell · 1 month

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Uh hi, this my first ever resquest, and i'm sorry if things don't make sense, english is not my first language.

Could i get tfp bot buddy who has shadow powers(like can turn into one and use them as portals), has the appearance of nightmares and is close to Ultra Magnus(dunno if is platonic, familial or romantic)?

They kinda been living as Ultra Magnus shadow since forever and help him on missions,tasks or just anything, but in one of their missions, the decepticons maneged to reallyyy hurt buddy and buddy, not wanting to die, retreated to Ultra Magnus shadow and went into stasis to heal but Ultra Magnus didn't knew that and thought that buddy had perished.

Only now on earth did buddy finally wakes up.

Could i get reactions from the team or something like that if not, that's okay :) also love your writing

Magnus was so close to having a spark attack when he saw Buddy pop out of his shadow the first time they used their powers, that's for sure.

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy with shadow manipulation and being Ultra Magnus's Amica Endura

SFW, Platonic, Cybertronain reader

TFP

Buddy met Magnus through Optimus.

He introduced them to Magnus during the earlier years of the war as his Second in Command.

Magnus just thought he was getting to know another coworker.

A couple missions later, several late-night conversations and some free time later they become Amica Endura.

“You know you never did tell HOW you became Amica with Commander shoulder pads over there. Was it a bet you loss?”--Wheeljack

“No bets were lost Wheeljack. We became Amica out of our own choice and free will. Nothing else to do with it.”--Buddy

“Sure…”--Wheeljack

Buddy loves to prank Magnus with their shadow powers.

Magnus does not find this funny… but he does find it a bit endearing after a while.

Being an Outlier was rare to find in this world.

Even rarer to find after the war broke out.

So many had been the first ones targeted at the beginning of the war there were barely anymore left.

It was a risk putting Buddy in the Wrecker’s, but so far it brought greater success to the unit than any point in their formation.

“Freeze Autobot scum!”—Random Decepticon

Buddy putting their servo in the air almost mockingly.

“There’s three of you and one of me… what ever shall I do?”--Buddy

Buddy’s servos start glowing a bit.

“Have you met my Amica?”--Buddy

“Why would we—”—Random Con

SLAM!

Magnus takes out the three mechs after appearing from behind thanks to Buddy’s shadow powers.

“That was brutal!”--Buddy

Magnus fixes his blaster a bit.

“I hate when you put yourself in these situations.”--Magnus

“Its in the job description Mags.”--Buddy

“Buddy we’ve been over this.”--Magnus

“And we’ve been over this too.”--Buddy

“…”--Magnus

“…”--Buddy

“First one that takes out five Cons has to buy the other a drink.”--Buddy

“If you insist.”--Magnus

Buddy has defiantly used their powers to get Magnus to sneak up on unsuspecting troops.

Magnus is always there for Buddy when they overexert themselves and need someone to watch over their back.

One trip left Buddy badly injured.

They saw Magnus’s backside as he was trying to find them in the rubble of the exploding base.

They tried to call for him, but they could barely keep their optics open.

His shadow was the closest thing they could reach so they snuck into his shadow.

With a quick nap, their wounds would get healed in no time.

Magnus thought that Buddy had died in the explosion after coming back to the base for regrouping.

He checked all other places they set rendezvous points and in none of the places did he even find a trace of Buddy.

Magnus could see it in the optics of his Wrecker’s that the war was about to turn bloodier than it was now that Buddy was gone.

Hopefully things would get better…

Hope was the last thing they had.

Timeskip to Magnus being on Earth…

Buddy finally feels ready to get out of the shadow.

Yeah, it took a while to finally get healed, but they are sure they are ready now.

By their calculations they missed about a couple weeks in the war. Things couldn’t have changed that much.

Magnus is arguing with Wheeljack when Bulkhead sees something wrong with Magnus’s shadow.

“Hey guys, shadows aren’t supposed to do that right?”--Bulkhead

Miko looks from the perch.

“Wow! Wheeljack made Magnus so mad his shadow gained sentience!”--Miko

In a blink there is a bot laying on the floor rubbing their helm.

“Urgh! Never doing that again… hey Mags when did we get better lighting—Mags?”--Buddy

Ultra Magnus stares at Buddy with wide optics.

“By the Allspark! Buddy is that you?!”—Wheeljack

“Who’s that?”--Miko

Buddy moves their helm a bit and spots Wheeljack.

“Wheeljack? I thought you left cycles ago—Hey!”--Buddy

Bulkhead scoops Buddy from behind giving them a crushing hug.

“Bulkhead!? I thought you left to team Prime? Magnus? Magnus what’s going on?”—Buddy

“Seriously who’s that?”--Miko

Magnus remains still just staring at Buddy like a ghost.

Buddy gets out of Bulkhead’s grip stumbling a bit until they reach their Amica with a worried look on their face.

“Mags? Are you okay?”--Buddy

“I…I thought you had perished in the explosion. I looked everywhere…”--Magnus

Buddy scratches their helm a bit.

“Yeah, I got injured pretty badly back there. Your shadow was the closest thing I could reach and… well…”--Buddy

“So, this entire time you’ve been in Ultra Magnus’s shadow?”--Wheeljack

Buddy furies their optics a bit.

“You’re making this sound like I was gone for millennia. I was just gone for a couple of weeks most.”—Buddy

Magnus gives them a sad smile.

“…You never were good at your calculations Buddy.”--Magnus

Magnus puts a servo on his Amica’s shoulder.

“Mags?”--Buddy

“Mags?”--Miko

Buddy finally looks over at Miko.

“Who’s this?”--Buddy

“I’m Miko! Welcome to Earth!”--Miko

Buddy’s optics widen.

“How long was I in there!?”—Buddy

Optimus walks into the room with some of the reports.

“Ultra Magnus where—Buddy?”--Optimus

“WHY IS PRIME SO BIG!?”--Buddy

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #tfp #tfp x reader #tfp x platonic reader #tfp ultra magnus #tfp ultra magnus x platonic reader

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 4 months

Text

I'm forever losing my mind about s2e4, because I don't know about you all, but I expected them to drag the conflict out and I was so relieved they didn't.

It would have been such an easy choice to make Ed and Stede have lots of misunderstandings and accidentally hurt each other further. It would've been so easy I was expecting them to do it, even though I didn't like it or think it fit very well for Ed and Stede.

But they didn't take the path of easy conflict! The writers of OFMD fucking care so much about their story and their characters and it shows. Yes, Ed and Stede are tense with each other at first. Yes, they need to talk like adults. Yes, they're both emotionally constipated so that'll be tough. But they do it!

And the reason this works so well is because it makes it so immediately obvious that Ed and Stede just click so well that it's really hard for them to be upset with each other. "Can we not do this now?" Stede asks after Ed tells Anne and Mary how he "completely boned it" near the start of the episode, to which Ed responds "can do it any time I like!" Already, even with so little talking, they both seem to take it completely as a given that they're not going to just disappear from each other's lives.

And, yes, Ed gives Stede clear boundaries. He does not want to hear an explicit love confession yet, he makes it clear that he was already all in and Stede broke that trust, but he's deeply charmed and comforted when Stede shifts to "I love everything about you" instead. My absolute favorite moment this episode is after Anne and Mary tease Ed about his beard, and Stede tells him he likes it, and Ed gives him the softest little "thank you." He doesn't even want to look at Stede in that moment, but still, even after Stede has hurt him so badly and he doesn't yet have context for that, Ed doesn't doubt for a second that Stede's compliment is genuine or worry that Stede is trying to manipulate him back into his good graces with compliments.

And once they're starting to get on the same page with each other? Fuck, they're just so in sync so quickly, immediately a team when Anne and Mary start having a go at them. They're constantly glancing at each other, making little faces at each other, checking in on the other's reaction.

I don't doubt that Ed and Stede are going to butt heads every now and again. They both have big personalities and are very emotional and they'll know exactly what'll hurt most to say when they fight. But they both know they're completely safe with each other and they'd never mean to hurt each other. They're gonna be just fine.

#our flag means death #ofmd #fuck these boys! they're so good! they're made for each other your honor

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avastrasposts · 2 months

Text

A Baker's Dozen**

Ezra part two

Ezra’s chapter finished second in the poll about who should return to the bakery, and it made me so happy. I'd never written Ezra before and he was a challenge! But the story came together well with the help of his language and personality. But it was also sadder than I planned it to be, and I really wanted to revisit him and continue the story. So please enjoy part two!

(I'm editing and posting this in slightly more unconventional circumstances, so please excuse any errors!)

With a sigh you lock the front door of the bakery and flip the ‘Closed’ sign to face outwards. It had been a long weekend, lots of customers, and not all of them very polite. And to make matters worse, your shop assistant, the high schooler who’d worked extra on weekends, had been accepted at the last minute into their first college of choice and this was your first weekend without them. You’re exhausted and looking forward to your day off tomorrow.

The knock on the back door makes you jump just as you turn off the lights in the shop. Cautiously you walk to the back room and stop by the door.

“Hello?”

“It-it’s me, Ezra,” comes a muffled voice in a stutter from the outside, “P-please…I..”

You don’t need to hear more, you rush to the door and unlock it, throwing it open and the man on the other side almost loses his balance, propped up against the door frame. His appearance makes you gasp, reaching out to steady him as he wobbles. The stark blonde patch in his hair is plastered against his forehead, stained with blood from the cut just above his eyebrow, another cut marks his cheekbone, a bruise already blooming around it. From the way he’s curled his arm around his torso, you can tell something’s hurting his chest.

“Ezra, what happened?” you wince, helping him to step through the door, his face twisting in pain as he puts weight on his left foot.

He only grunts in response to your question, inhaling sharply as you carefully try to take his weight.

“Lean on me, let’s get you to the chair, I’ll call an ambulance, it’ll be ok,” you say, making him lean on you as much as you can as he hobbles into the kitchen and sinks down on the chair with a groan.

“No, no ambulance, I am not that badly off,” he says, shaking his head as you pull over the stool on wheels and make him put his injured leg up onto it.

“What happened, Ezra?” you ask again, sinking down to get a better look at him. He’s pale under his golden complexion, his eyes glassy and unfocused.

“It’s nothing, no matter, I just need to-,” he says, but even as he says it, he closes his eyes and breathes in through his nose, his hand tightening over his chest.

“Ezra,” you implore again, putting your hand on his uninjured leg, “you’ve turned up, injured and bloody, weeks after you disappeared, and you try to tell me it’s nothing? Do you think I’m that stupid?”

With that he peels his eyes open and looks down at you, and the pain in his eyes almost makes your heart stop.

“Ezra…” you implore again, softer this time, “be honest with me, I want to help, you know that.”

“I’m…I’m ashamed…” he whispers, his eyes falling to your hand on his leg, “you know what I am. I know I left you without explanation last time, after you were so kind to me. And here I am, needing your help again, because I have no one else to turn to.”

“Just tell me what happened, please, Ezra,” you say, “let me help.”

“I…I’ve…some men…” he begins, his eyes still on your hand on his leg, “I’d fallen asleep on the bus stop bench, and some men seemed to take offense,” he looks up at you, and you’re suddenly reminded of the mask Ezra is so skilled at pulling up over his true face, it’s firmly in place now, his hesitancy gone as he picks his words.

“They decided to make me leave by shoving me off the bench, and I twisted my ankle as I fell. When I couldn’t get up they roughed me up, threw me in a dumpster when they were done. I hurt my side trying to get out of it, fell badly when my foot gave up,” he gives you a humorless laugh, “Turns out climbing out of a dumpster with only one good arm and leg is rather tricky.”

“Ezra…that’s terrible, we need to get you to the ER, they need to check your chest, you may have broken ribs,” you make to stand up but his hand comes out and grabs yours before it leaves his leg.

“No, please, no, it’s not necessary,” he says, squeezing your hand, “I just need to clean the cuts and, if you have one, a bandage for my ankle so that I can at least stand on it while I make my way home.”

“You need to get your ribs checked, Ezra,” you reply, not taking a no from him, “and you might need stitches on the cut over your eye, it looks deep. Please,” you add as you see him shake his head again.

“Sweet girl, I can’t, please just let me get cleaned up and I’ll leave, I won’t impose on you again.”

“Ezra, you’re not imposing, except with your stubbornness, I’m taking you to the ER and that’s it. I’m not letting you leave without getting looked at by a professional.” You pull your hand from his and reach for your coat and he gives a forced little chuckle, smiling without mirth, his hand coming up as if to make a dismissive gesture in the air, but you stop him. .

“And don’t try that act with me, Ezra, I spent enough time with you last time to know when you’re lying, either to protect yourself or me.”

His hand falls back down, his shoulders slumping, “Your eagerness to help does you credit, but you don’t understand,” he says as you shrug into your coat.

He’s shaking his head, staring down at his solitary hand, picking at a fleck of blood on his stained pants, and you wait for him to press out the words. His words failing him in a way that is so far from his usual unstoppable stream that it makes you stop and look down at him with even more concern as he continues to pick at the blood.

“I…I simply don’t…I don’t have the…means, I just…can’t pay it,” he stutters, clenching his fist tight, his voice defeated, “I have no insurance…I don’t even have a valid driver’s license, they will not even let me in…” He doesn’t meet your eyes as you move closer to him, but he shakes his head again, his shoulders lifting up to his ears as the tension builds in his body, “No address.”

You sink down in front of the chair, taking his hand, stilling it against his leg, unraveling his fist as he sighs again.

“I’m as homeless as an alley cat, you see, sweet girl. I’m ashamed to say I have nothing, nothing to my name.” His voice is low, eyes downcast, and he doesn’t take your hand even though you wrap your fingers around it.

“I guessed,” you say, your voice low, trying to make him meet your eyes, “But you still need help, and I can take you to the clinic down by the church. They can check you out and get you more help, free if you need it,” you give his hand a squeeze, “Please, Ezra,” you implore, “let me help.”

You sit quietly next to the chair for a few seconds while Ezra seems to fight something inside him, his jaw ticking with the tension. With a small grunt, he finally gives you a short nod, his shoulders sinking down again, “You’re too good for this world, sweet girl,” he mutters, taking your hand properly and letting you help him to his feet.

“Not at all,” you reply, getting him to put his arm over your shoulder as you help him limp to the back door again, “but you’re my friend, and you need help whether you want to accept it or not. And I can be a lot more pigheaded than you.” The last you say with a smile in your voice as you help him down the back stairs. And it gets a small chuckle out of him before he winces at the pain.

You get him to sit in the back seat, his injured leg elevated as he grumbles about getting dirt in your car. Rolling your eyes in response, you strap yourself in and reverse out. Ezra shifts in the back, trying to get comfortable, in the rear view mirror you see him gently touch the cut over his eye that’s still bleeding.

“Would you recognise the men who did it?” you ask, looking back at the road.

“Maybe, but I’m not talking to the police,” Ezra replies, guessing what you’re thinking, “They don’t care about someone like me, I’m more likely to get into trouble for bringing their attention to my lack of address.”

“I was just thinking, maybe they make a habit of it, attacking sleeping people, they should be stopped.”

“Not by me, sweet girl, I don’t have enough fight left in me for that.”

You glance back at Ezra again, he never sounded so defeated the last time you saw him, and now he’s leaning his head against the window, staring into nothing, looking utterly forlorn.

Letting the subject rest, you drive in silence the rest of the short way to the clinic.

A nurse comes over as she spots you and Ezra coming through the door and soon he’s been told to lie back on a stretcher while you hover awkwardly nearby.

“Do you want me to wait outside?” you ask him as the nurse leaves to find the doctor on call for the evening.

“Only if you wish to,” he says, dropping his head back on the pillow and staring at the ceiling, “thank you for escorting me, but it’s not necessary to wait, I can manage on my own now. You should go home.”

“Ezra,” you hiss, keeping your voice low in the open room, only curtains separating his bed from his neighbors, “quit being such a pigheaded martyr, you’re such an idiot.”

His eyes snap to yours when he hears your anger, and you continue, “If I didn’t care about you I wouldn’t have opened the door in the first place, and I certainly wouldn’t have cried for a week after you disappeared the last time.”

His eyes widen at this and he opens his mouth to say something but you don’t let him.

“I’m staying. And you’re coming home with me when we’re done here. No arguments, so you can just hold that clever tongue of yours.”

Ezra closes his mouth and opens it again, meeting your glare with astonished eyes as he fumbles for a reply. But before he has time to compose himself, the curtain around the bed is pulled to the side and the doctor appears, followed by the nurse.

Ezra doesn’t protest any more as the doctor treats him. With a small bag of over the counter painkillers in your hand, and a crutch under his one arm, he slowly follows you back to the car without a word. Luckily no fractured rib, but a sprained ankle and a few strips of surgical tape over his two cuts is the tally of the beating, and you’re grateful it’s not worse. You’re even more grateful Ezra found his way back to you for help. You’ll be damned if you’ll let him go back to the streets, even if you have to shackle him to a radiator in your house. Ezra seems to realize this, and doesn’t say anything as you stop at a supermarket on the way home, and return to the car with a toothbrush and various other supplies he might need for his stay with you.

He doesn’t speak until you’ve closed the door behind the both of you and he’s hobbled into your living room. You put the painkillers on the coffee table and turn to help him sink down on the couch.

“Thank you. Truly,” he says, as you put a cushion under his leg, propping it up on the low table.

“Don’t fight it so much next time,” you tell him, “people are nice sometimes.” Straightening up you change the subject as your stomach rumbles, the time for talking is later, “Are you hungry?”

He nods, “Very.”

“I’ve got some leftover pasta sauce and bread, I’ll heat it up for us,” you say, leaving him on the couch. But it doesn’t take long before you hear him hobble after you into the kitchen, sitting down on one of the stools by the island.

“I apologize,” he says, “I was ashamed of showing you how pitiful my life is, both when we met last time, and today. I…I find it hard to accept help, I don’t want to burden anyone with my plight, it was my own foolishness who brought me to this low point. I should carry the consequences of my actions and not burden you with them.”

“Ezra…” you say softly, trying to keep any trace of pity out of your voice, “we all make bad choices, or just have a run of bad luck. Maybe next time I’m the one who needs help, and I hope someone is willing to give it then.”

He nods, but he still looks forlorn and you ache to put your arms around him, but you think he might see it as pity, so you give him a smile, and turn back to the stove.

“You should go back to the couch, Ezra,” you say, “put your leg up again, like the doctor said. I’ll bring you your food.”

“Will you join me on the couch for dinner?” he asks and it’s your turn to nod.

“Of course, I’m starving. Get comfortable, pick something to watch and I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

When you return to the living room with two plates, Ezra has propped his leg up again and readily accepts a plate from you. Some nature documentary is playing on the tv and you gratefully sink down on your end of the couch and dig in. Ezra balances his plate on his lap and from the corner of your eye you can see him struggling with twisting the spaghetti onto his fork with his left hand. His eyebrows are pulled together in frustration and the fork clinks angrily against the plate.

You set down your own fork and leave for the kitchen, returning with a tray on legs, for having breakfast in bed.

“Here,” you say, putting it down and placing his plate on it, “Ask for help, Ezra.”

He gives you an indecipherable look, but you just return to your own plate, your attention on the rainforest birds on the tv.

“Thank you,” he says after a minute, looking over at you.

“You’re welcome,” you reply, giving him a quick smile that he returns, the first smile you’ve seen from him since he arrived back at the bakery.

The rest of the evening passes in companionable silence for the most part. You want to ask Ezra about where he’s been since you last saw him, how he’s been. You know why he didn’t return to the bakery, the other shop owners on the street certainly made it known that they didn’t trust him, and didn’t want him near. And you see now, even more clearly, how little value even Ezra places on himself.

I have nothing to give to anyone.

That’s what he’d written in his note to you, the day after his first visit. And it echoes in the back of your mind as you go over the events of the evening, stealing looks at Ezra sitting in the other corner of your couch.

He came back to the bakery when he was injured, but it seems even that had been a hard task for him, to ask for help, and then very reluctantly accepting it. He’d told you he lost his arm in a mining accident, but you don’t know if that was the true story or not. But whatever the truth is, you’re starting to understand the strange dark haired man with the odd blonde patch, a little bit better. He must’ve been fiercely independent before he lost his arm, capable, his skill matching his sharp intellect. And strong, if the shape of his wide shoulders and broad back is anything to go by. You can still remember how his muscles flexed and bunched under your exploring hands when he’d kissed you in the kitchen, a strength that hadn’t diminished when he lost his arm.

To lose that independence, and then his home, to be reduced to relying on others for help, even with the simplest things, it could turn any person bitter. And yet, the Ezra you met in the bakery, as wary as you’d been of him at first, had been warm and passionate, tender and gentle even. The mask he’d let slip while you baked together, had revealed a man you could fall in love with, even with the circumstances of his life twisting the person he showed the world.

You give him another look, his strong profile lit by the tv, his chocolate hair and beard longer and scruffier than before, more streaks of gray and the bags under his eyes heavy. But underneath the layers of grime, the stress of his life, he’s still a handsome man, albeit a little bit dirty right now. But that’s a problem for tomorrow you decide.

With a yawn you stretch and get to your feet, picking up the plates.

“I’ll get you a pillow and a blanket,” you say, “I left a new toothbrush in the bathroom, and a clean towel.”

“I can’t stay,” he says, predictably, and you ignore him, going back to the kitchen to put the plates in the dishwasher, turning it on before you return to the living room. Ezra is standing by the couch, the crutch under his arm.

“You’re staying, Ezra,” you interrupt him before he can protest, “You’re injured, and quite frankly, you’re dirty. Sleep here tonight, wash up in the morning, and then we’ll see.”

“Sweet girl…I can’t let you…” he begins but you shake your head.

“Do you think so little of me? That you think I’d let anyone, let alone an injured friend, sleep rough on the streets?”

Ezra looks back at your raised eyebrows and challenging look.

“Well?” you ask, “Do you think I’m that kind of friend?”

“No,” he says eventually, a small, exasperated smile, softening his face, “I know you’re not that kind of friend.”

“Good. Toothbrush and towel in the bathroom, go clean up, I’ll make your bed,” you point your finger in the direction of the bathroom and give him a stern look, softened by a crooked smile that Ezra returns.

“Yes, boss,” he says, and hobbles away.

Ezra beds down on the couch and you make sure his leg is propped up by a couple of extra cushions before you retreat to your own bed. You can hear him shifting on the couch, the old thing creaking under his weight, before you drift into sleep.

A loud crash startles you from your dreams hours later, early morning light coming through your curtains, and you shoot up in bed.

“Ezra?” you call out, scrambling out of bed, wrapping your gown around you as you hurry out of your bedroom. You find him by the open front door, cursing silently as he struggles to pick up the crutch from the floor.

“You’re sneaking out,” you state, stopping as you see him straightening up, the crutch still on the floor, his hand on the wall for balance.

“I’m afraid I have to depart, a pressing matter requires my swift attention this morning,” he replies, and oh, the mask is so clearly in place, the polite, apologetic smile, hiding the real man.

“What kind of pressing matter?” you ask, “Let me get dressed and I’ll drive you,” you challenge, crossing your arms and challenging him to just fucking dare to lie to you again.

“No, I can’t let you do that,” he smiles, wider now, even more apologetic, “I must converge with a most disagreeable drifter, a small matter of business I have with him that needs to be settled, I truly do not wish you to meet him. Such a rough, uncouth-”

“Ezra…” you say, your voice a warning, as you bend to pick up the crutch, holding out of his reach. It’s a dirty trick but he won’t get far without it.

“I assure you, sweet girl, I really need to depart, it would not be fortunate for you, or your excellent business, to be seen around town with myself, or this disagreeable man. I can’t bring this misfortune down on you after you’ve treated me with such kindness,” Ezra tilts his head, looking up at you through his dark eyelashes, the ringmaster at work, using his words to bend the audience to follow his ques, to believe his illusion.

You shake your head, and lean the crutch in a corner, away from him.

“You forget, Ezra, that you’ve bared more than you maybe intended to me, and I see what you’re trying to do,” you say, moving around him and closing the front door. “Your smooth lies don’t work on me anymore, I can see that mask you pull up whenever you try to bend me to your will.”

You stop in front of him, and he wavers, the smile, almost a leer, slips from his face. Carefully, as if he’s an animal you don’t want to spook, you bring your hand to his cheek, your thumb brushing across his scruffy beard.

“Ezra…you don’t need to fight so hard. Not with me.”

The mask is gone again, his determination to oppose your will melting away faster this time, and Ezra’s eyes fill with regret as he leans his face into your hand. You seek out his, hanging limp by his side and lace your fingers together, squeezing it lightly as you let him hold on to you for balance.

“I left you a note,” he whispers, “I’m truly grateful, I didn’t want to leave again without explanation.”

“What does it say?”

He sighs, closing his eyes briefly, “Same as I said last night, I don’t want to bring you more trouble, I have nothing to give, I don’t want to be a burden. And I know what you’ll say,” he looks up at you as he hears you inhale to berate him, “You don’t think I’m a burden, that I won’t bring you trouble. But I have not lived life honestly, and the people in this community know me as a trickster who cons them. It can only bring you trouble if they see you with me.”

“Have you stolen from them?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“Not from them, no. But I have stolen in the past, and not only what I needed of food and clothes. And I conned them, used their good hearts against them, they will not pardon me and see me as favorably as you do, sweet girl.”

You caress his cheek again, “Maybe it wasn’t honest, but it’s not like you forced them to give you things, just like you didn’t force me to make you a soufflé. Even though I realize I was probably just a con to you too.”

Ezra drops his eyes from yours at that, looking away as he gives you a small nod.

“It was a con, at first, I have to admit it. I was hoping for a loaf or two of bread, maybe something sweet, but…the soufflé, it wasn’t a con, I promise.” He looks up at you again, your hand has slipped from his cheek, down to his shoulder, he’s so close you can smell the toothpaste and his unwashed clothes, the antiseptic from the bandage on his cheek and forehead. You remain silent to let him continue, to see if his mask comes up again, or if he tells the truth this time.

“I told you that you captivated me, and that’s the truth, I was watching you the first day I came into the shop, you were decorating a cake, your concentration palpable, you were clearly very skilled. And knew if I conned you, I couldn’t come back, so I bought a croissant…and I left.” Ezra gives you a small smile at the memory, “You wouldn’t even know, but that croissant…it bound me to you, it was that perfect. I couldn’t help but keep going back, to watch you work, to taste more of what you’d made. And then you noticed me, and I should’ve left, but it was too late, I had already made a plan to trick you, another kind of trick.”

“What kind of trick, Ezra?” you ask and he gives you the smallest of chuckles.

“The kind that let me spend more time with you, to let me be seen as something else than the sad, homeless drifter my life has turned me into.”

He sighs, letting go of your hand to drag his rough palm over his face, rubbing at his eyes, “I’ve thought since that perhaps it was the worst of ideas, that I tricked myself more than you. I let myself step into a bubble of what could’ve been, if I had been a very different man, build a fantasy in my head where you…never mind,” he cuts himself off, leaning on the wall for balance as you seek out his hand again, “I never conned you, and I wish things were very different.”

“Ezra, I missed you when you left, and I was hurt and confused by your note and what other people said about you,” you say, taking his hand in both of yours, “but I trust you, even if you don’t believe me, I trust you. And I want you to stay, at least until you’re better, please stay this time.”

“But your neighbors, your shop…” he begins and you step forward, pressing your lips to his, silencing him. He holds himself rigid for a beat, before you feel his lips part with a soft hum.

“Fuck ‘em,” you whisper against him, “Please, Ezra, just be selfish with me.”

You don’t let him answer, but you feel his arm move, circle around your waist and you take it as a capitulation as he pulls you a little bit closer.

The kiss doesn’t last long, just a mark to pick up where you left off the last time in the bakery. Instead you pull back from him after a little while, retrieve the crutch and lead him back to the living room. The note, Ezra’s lopsided, left handed scribble on it, sits on the coffee table next to his makeshift bed.

“Do I need to read it?” you ask and he shakes his head, taking the paper and crumpling it.

“No, I’ll stay, at least until you bid me to leave.”

“Not while you limp, you’re stuck with me for a while, con man.” The last part you say with a wink, teasing him, and you’re rewarded by the dimple appearing on his cheek as he smiles, his face transforming.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be stuck, sweet girl,” he winks back.

The morning passes easily, now that he’s decided not to leave as soon as you give him a chance. You make breakfast, stacking the bacon high on his plate, an extra fried egg with the bread and mushrooms, three sausages on the side and a large glass of orange juice.

“Sweet girl, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you stopped me from leaving just to give me a heart attack instead,” Ezra says, eyes bulging as you set the plates down on the coffee table in front of him.

“No offense, but you look like you haven’t been eating that well. Let me spoil you while I can,” you reply, sitting down in front of your own, smaller, serving.

"You’re not mistaken, and no offense taken, it has been a few arduous months,” he says while cutting into the food, humming in satisfaction as the yolk smears the bread. It’s the last you hear from him for a while, the food takes all his attention as he works his way the whole plate, even the extra mushrooms and bacon you slide over. Eventually he leans back, balancing a fresh mug of coffee on his belly, letting out a deep sigh.

“I fear I may burst if I eat another bite,” he huffs, his little tummy expanding as he takes a deep breath, “As usual, you’re too good to me, cream puff.”

“I told you, enough with the baking related pet names,” you laugh, leaning back with your own coffee. “I think we agreed on ‘honey’ last time, but I like ‘sweet girl’ too.”

“Sweet as honey,” Ezra smiles, “such a delectable name for the most captivating of women, for someone with such compassion for the most miserable, unfortunate man. Although…” he tilts his head so that he can look over at where you’re curled up on the couch, “perhaps I’m not so unfortunate, I count myself the luckiest man to have wandered into your particular bakery and then even to be allowed to call you ‘friend’.” His smile is soft, “How did a wretch like me stumble into such fortune?”

“There is that charmer that stole my heart,” you smile back at him, “I’ve missed you, Ezra.”

“I did not want to leave you last time, but you understand now why I told you the illusion had to break?” He puts his mug on the table and takes your hand across the couch as you scooch closer to him.

“I understand, but I hope you know now, that you don’t have to leave, and I don’t want you too… however…” you trail off, as the smell of his unwashed clothes reaches your nose again, “you need to shower, and change…”

Ezra looks down at his clothes and frowns, “I have nothing to change into, but I do agree that these old breeches are somewhat on the smelly side. The rogues that roughed me up made off with my bag and the clothes within.”

“Ezra, you should’ve said, we could’ve bought you something yesterday,” you say, pushing off the couch and going to the hallway closet that holds your winter jackets, “I’ve got an old oversized sweatshirt, a relic from an ex, if you don’t mind?” You hold up the sweater and Ezra shrugs.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, if it fits, I will gladly wear it.”

“I’ll put your clothes in the wash,” you dig deeper in the closet, “these will probably fit, my brother’s old shorts, they’ve got paint stains from when we painted the bedroom, but they’re clean, I promise.”

Ezra accepts the clothes and retreats to the bathroom as you clear up the breakfast. You hear him run a bath, and even the satisfied groan as he sinks into it, making you smile as you load the dishwasher. But the disgruntled growl doesn’t sound good a few minutes later so you gently tap on the closed door.

“You ok, Ezra?” you ask and a grumble floats through the door as something clatters to the floor.

“I find that washing my hair, which it is in dire need of, is impossible with the way this bruise seems determined to burn a hole in my side. I can’t lift my arm high enough. And I only have one of those, as you know.”

“Can I help? Are you decent?”

“Sweet girl, I have no concerns about being decent in front of you,” he huffs, “You’ve already been privy to my very lowest state. Besides, your bubble bath really is very efficient.”

The last thing he says with a chuckle and you open the door. You’re met with Ezra laying back, no, Ezra laying back in resplendence, in your bathtub, all but covered by bubbles and a satisfied grin on his face.

“This bathtub really is a most colossal feature, I feel like I could go for a swim,” he smiles up at you as you bend to pick up the shampoo bottle from the floor.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, it’s half the reason I bought the house,” you say, sinking down behind him, “Can’t believe you got me washing your hair too, Ezra,” you mutter, but there’s no venom and Ezra hears the smile in your voice.

“I’ll repay the favor tenfold once I’m all healed up again, honey,” he says and scoots forward, giving you free access to his dark curls.

He’s like a cat, all but purring as you scrub his hair, letting your nails drag across scalp, rinsing it out once and giving it another wash. As you massage his head he closes his eyes and breathes deeply, you’re certain he’ll start snoring any second, and you gently tap his shoulder for him to sit up for a second rinse.

“Conditioner, sir?” you ask him with a teasing tone, as he moans.

Ezra opens one eye and looks up at you, “Are you mocking me, baker girl?”

“Only your obvious attraction to the skill of my hands, your moans are loud enough for the neighbors to hear.”

“Oh, I’ve always been attracted to the skill of your hands, in more ways than one, and I’m sure I can think of other uses for them too,” he winks and closes his eye again, leaving you with burning cheeks as his double entendre makes heat rise in your body.

As you rinse the conditioner from his hair you brush it back from his forehead, running your fingers through the blonde patch, stark white now that it’s properly clean. On impulse you bend down and place a kiss to it as you move to get up.

“All done, sir, enjoy the rest of your bath now.”

His hand comes up and grabs your wrist, surprisingly fast for someone right handed using their left, and he pulls you back down.

“Thank you,” he says in a low voice, bringing you close enough for him to reach up and return your kiss, warm lips pressed against yours for a moment.

“Anytime, Ezra,” you reply when he pulls back a little, your voice barely a whisper. You lock eyes for a few seconds, Ezra’s chocolate brown darkening as he rubs his thumb over the thin skin of your wrist.

“Anytime, sweet girl,” he whispers back and lets you go.

You feel unsteady as you leave the bathroom, slowly letting out a long exhale as you go back to the living room, aimlessly tidying, moving three books from one end of the room and back again twice before you realize what you’re doing and give up. Slumping down on the couch you turn back to the nature documentary from last night and try to zone out, but it’s no use. As you hear Ezra come out of the bathroom you shoot up from the couch and head to the kitchen, doing what you always do to calm your mind; bake.

The rest of the day passes without any more heated moments between the two of you. Ezra rests his ankle and you feed him, he complains that he can’t help you in any way, but you shush him and prop an extra cushion under his leg. From the corner of your eye, you see the soft smile he gives you as you turn back to the kitchen.

When it’s time for dinner you join him on the couch for the Great British Bake Off, a show Ezra is well familiar with but he’s missed most of the past seasons so the evening ends with you going back through the seasons and starting over. Before you know it, you’re lying down, your toes tucked in under Ezra’s warm leg while he absentmindedly strokes small circles on your calf. The whole scene is so domestic, he looks calm, more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him. His whole face transforms as he laughs at the tv, looking over at you to see if you’re laughing too. And you are, but mostly because it feels good to see Ezra so comfortable and content.

When it’s time for bed, you scoot over and kiss his scruffy cheek, smelling your shampoo on him.

“Sleep tight, Ezra,” you mumble, relishing the soft touch of his beard against your lips.

“Sweet dreams, sweet girl,” he mumbles back, giving your leg an extra squeeze, “Do you want me to leave in the morning?”

“Not even a little bit, stay.”

“Then I won’t attempt to slip out unnoticed again,” he says, a crooked little smile at you as you straighten up.

“Please don’t, waking up when something goes bang in the night is not my favorite way of waking up,” you say, “Night, Ezra.”

He does stay, the next day and the next and the one after that. You go back to the bakery on the second day, leaving Ezra sleeping on the couch and come back to find him making dinner, wobbling one foot, chopping a stubborn onion with his left hand. The next day he’s done all the dishes and made your kitchen spotless. You berate him for not resting his ankle but he just shrugs and smiles, his soft southern lilt becoming more pronounced as he tries to charm you into believing that his foot is all better now. When you scold him, he gives you the most insincere puppy eyes, mischief lurking just under the surface until you crack and smack his arm and laugh at him. You almost kiss him, his infectious chuckle, the way his dimple appears as his eyes crinkle. The evenings end like the ones before, tucked in on the couch with The Great British Bake Off, but on the third evening you yawn widely and he pulls you in, his strength no match for yours.

“Rest your weary head on my leg, sweet girl,” he says, putting a cushion propped up against his thigh, “don’t stay so far away.”

You do as he says, and he pulls the quilt down over you and rests his hand on your arm. His slow movements, calloused fingers softly gliding up and down over the quilt, lulls you to sleep and it’s not until Ezra gently shakes you, that you blink awake to the end of the episode, and you stumble to bed after kissing his cheek.

The next day you come home to find Ezra packed up, what little he has, in a plastic bag by the door.

“I reckon I’ve imposed on you long enough, sweet girl,” he says as you question him, “I still limp, but I can walk now.”

“You’re not imposing, Ez, you know that,” you reply, putting down your shopping and stopping in front of him on the couch as he gets to his feet, “I want you to stay for as long as you want.”

He is moving a lot better, you can’t deny that, but the cuts and the bruises are still visible on his cheek and forehead. The bigger bruise on his torso has faded into yellows and greens and doesn’t seem to pain him anymore.

“And besides, where would you go?” you ask. You don’t want to be unkind, but pointing out the obvious flaw in his plan of just leaving seems logical. “Stay here at least until you have a place of your own, you know I won’t let you leave just to sleep in a shelter or in a car.”

“Sweet girl, how long would that endeavor not take me? I have no employment, no money to my name, and without it, I have no choice but to find improvised shelter. And finding a job without an address is not easy, finding a job for a one-armed man? Impossible.” He shakes his head and moves around you, “No, I’d rather leave now, and leave you missing my company than stay and have you tire of my disagreeable old face.”

As he limps towards the front door you feel the slow gears of your brain working until it clicks into place.

“Ezra! I have a job for you!”

He turns and looks back at you, a pitiful smile as he shakes his head.

“Do not make up a job for me. Your kind heart does you credit but I won’t accept any more charity from you, sweet girl.”

“It’s not a made up job, Ezra, I need help at the bakery,” you say, “The high school student who worked extra left for college last week, this weekend was my first without them and I hardly got any baking done. I can’t manage the bakery and the shop at the same time, especially not since I'm going into peak season with weddings and graduations. I need someone to work in the shop and you could do that, even one handed I’m sure.”

“I fear it would not do your business any good to have me at the front of your shop, or do you forget how I conned my way around the last time?” Ezra shakes his head again, turning towards the door to pick up his sad bag of belongings.

“And if there’s anyone who can charm his way back into their good books, it’s you!” you protest, yanking the bag out of his hand. “I need someone who can start tomorrow, someone who understands baking and the things I make, and who is as passionate about it as I am. You’re the perfect fit, Ezra!”

You take a step closer to him, putting your hand on his cheek. You haven’t touched since the kiss in the bathroom, it’s just been a comfortable closeness on the couch. He seems to have been holding back, not wanting to impose another layer of complications to the situation of a homeless man sleeping on your couch. You, on your hand, have been squashing your feelings and urges to touch him, not sure what he feels, if he even wants you close, he seemed so intent on leaving as soon as he could. But now you touch him, stepping over the thin line you’d both drawn, needing him to understand how much you want him to stay, not just for the bakery or out of pity for him.

And Ezra leans his head into your hand as you gently caress his cheek, the scruffy beard soft under your fingers, as he looks down at you, something shifting in him too as you come so close to him he can smell the cinnamon from the bakery in your hair.

“I want you to stay, Ezra. I missed you when you were gone, and I need you, not just in the bakery, but I need you in my life too, if you could let yourself believe that.”

“I’m a selfish man,” he mumbles, his hand coming up to rest on your waist, “I’ve been telling myself to not complicate your life, but if you offer it to me, I’ll take it.”

“Please, take it then, Ezra, I’m tired of trying to convince you that you’re worth something more, just take it, you-”

He cuts you off, his hand coming up to your cheek as his lips find yours, pushing you back against the wall with his body as your brain catches up, wrapping your arms around his neck, fingers finding purchase in his hair and kissing him back.

You sigh into his mouth when he makes you part your lips, claiming your tongue the same way you remember from the bakery, the feeling you’ve been dreaming about since he left. He groans softly, his hand slipping down from your neck and curling behind your back to hold you even closer.

“Tell me again, I want to hear you say it again, that you want me to stay,” he whispers, pulling back just a little and looking at you with his dark brown eyes, filled with need, darkening with lust as you press your mouth to his lips.

“Pigheaded fool,” you smile, “How many times do I have to say it? I want you to stay.”

His responding groan, his mouth opening to let you taste him, sends a sharp jolt of desire through your body. Turning off all rational parts of your mind, you reach behind you and take his hand, pulling him with you through the house. When lead him into your bedroom he falters, an uncharacteristic shyness, or maybe uncertainty, flashing across his face.

“Sweet girl…” he whispers as you pull him onto the bed, making him tumble over you as he loses his balance, “it’s…been so long.”

“Do you want to, Ezra?” you ask, as he holds himself over you on his one arm.

“Yes, very much, I have dreamed so many nights of taking you to bed,” he breathes, his voice low, laced with both trepidation and lust, “I just never surmised you would ever want me like this, and I’m not sure these old broken bones could ever give you the pleasure you deserve.”

“How about we try out your old broken bones and let me judge how much pleasure they give?” you tease him, running your hands down his back, still as broad and muscular as you remember. He chuckles at that, some of the tension slipping from his face as you continue to stroke his soft shirt, tangling your fingers in the curls at the back of his neck, and then back down to his waist again. He puts his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and you can feel his warm breath over your lips, a slow exhale as he relaxes under your palms.

When you slip your hands under the edge of his shirt and pull it off he hesitates, the stump of his arm has always been hidden by his clothes or the bubbles in the bathtub that one time, now you sense his unease again.

“Do you want to keep your shirt on?” you ask, letting go of the hem and resuming your path up and down his back.

“No, no I want to feel your skin against mine,” he mutters, “I’m just afraid…you might find it…repulsive.”

With gentle hands you take hold of his shirt again and push it up his torso, making him roll over onto his back as you pull it over his head, freeing both his arm and the scarred stump. Ezra watches you with dark eyes, apprehensive in a way you’ve never seen him before, watching your reaction as you lean down and place a soft kiss on the scar tissue that covers the end of his arm.

“I’m sorry you lost it, Ez, but I’m glad you’re still here,” you whisper, placing another kiss on the rough texture before his large, remaining, hand cups the back of your head and guides you up to his mouth, his hot tongue seeking yours.

Now it’s his turn to tug at your shirt and you slip it off, tossing it over the side of the bed, letting your bra go the same way. As you sit up, straddling his narrow hips, the apex of your thighs rubs over the growing hardness in his pants, he growls and grabs your hip, rolling his own up into you. You gasp and Ezra pulls himself upright, his eyes now fully dark, lust blown and all trace of hesitancy gone as he pulls your core down over his cock.

“Sweet girl, I’m determined to make you cry my name until your voice is hoarse,” he says, his voice rough and low with a layer of intensity you’ve never heard from him before, “I really have craved you so many nights, dreamt of having you unfold underneath me, make you moan so prettily in my ear again, like you did when I kissed you before.”

He cups your sex with his hand, bringing the heel down over your sensitive nerves, making you ride it through the denim of your jeans, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His mouth leaves heated, wet marks on your skin when he sucks bruises into your collar bone. Hand moving over the buttons, he peels down the zipper and you feel him slide down inside your pants, fingers meeting flesh as he ignores your underwear.

“What if I can make you cry ‘Ezra’ in that delicious moan, make you pant for me, with just my fingers buried in your cunt?” he growls, hot breath on your skin, “Will that prove me worthy of your devotion?”

“You-you…already a-are…” you gasp, his fingers slipping further down, thumb finding your swollen bundle of nerves, two of his thick fingers sliding deep inside and curling back. You feel him chuckle against your throat when you buck your hips, demanding more.

“Fuck, Ezra…” you moan, head tipping back, his beard scraping over your throat as he sucks another mark into the thin skin of your neck.

“Let me feel you fall, sweet girl,” he mutters, pulling back, his dark eyes finding yours half closed, blissed out, “So beautiful, captivating, my sweet girl.” He looks hungry, greedy, and he surges forward, seeking out your skin again. You feel his teeth nipping on the curve of your jaw as he curves his fingers deep inside you, finding a spot that sends stars through your veins. Your fingers dig into his broad shoulders, leaving fresh marks on his flesh as he brings you closer to the peak.

“My sweet girl,” he purrs, close to your ear, his thumb rubbing tight circles, “come for me, honey, I’ve got you.”

It topples you over, his dark voice tickling your mind into submission, your back arching, pushing down on his fingers as he brings you through it. You cry out his name, pant it into the dim room, and he licks his tongue over your sweat salt skin.

“Ezra…” you croak, dropping your head onto his shoulder as he slowly caresses your slick folds and pulls out, his sticky hand curving around your waist and landing on your back. It takes a few minutes for you to catch your breath, Ezra mumbles into your ear, his words wrapping around your brain, trapping them in the haze of your orgasm. When you turn your head and scrape your teeth over the thin skin of his neck, your tongue licking the edge of his ear, his breath hitches, interrupting his torrent of sweet nothings. Against your core you can feel his cock twitch, ignored and aching.

“Take your pants off,” he says, the command soft in his voice, “And take mine off too.”

It doesn’t take long for you to rid the both of you of the rest of your clothes. Ezra hisses as you pull his cock free, letting your hand stroke it, catching the weeping head with the pad of your thumb before you stand up.

“How do you want me, Ezra?” you ask, returning from the bathroom with a condom in your hand. He’s flat on his back, his hand slowly moving up and down his cock as he watches you walk naked across the room.

“On my lap, my symmetry is sorely lacking in balance, I fear I might give you a bloody nose if I was on top,” he smirks, moving himself to sit against the headboard, giving his thighs an invitational pat.

“Just admit it, you’re lazy,” you wink at him, “just want me to do all the work.”

He grabs your hip and pulls you down, his hard length pushed up against the soft swell of your belly, “Oh, sweet girl, if I had both my hands I’d trap you beneath me and not let you leave until you were a quivering mess, begging me to let you come,” he smirks, kissing you hard when you bend your head down to him.

He rolls his hips, giving friction to his cock pressed between you, and you feel him hiss into your mouth, groaning deep in his chest.

You push back and unwrap the condom, slipping it on while he watches your hands with dark eyes. When you rise up on your knees, his fingers dig into your hip, his teeth capturing his bottom lip, biting down hard with a groan as you position yourself. With one hand wrapped around his twitching length, the other on his shoulder for balance, you stroke the head through your slick folds, watching Ezra let go of his lip, an almost animal snarl escaping him.

“My sweet girl, honey…” he pants, opening his mouth to continue, but you sink down over him, squeezing his length, and he groans, a low rumbling pressed up through gritted teeth, head tipped back, eyes closed. You feel him buck his hips, his hand guiding your hip, as he tries to fuck up into you and you hold on to his shoulders with both hands, stroking down over his arms, caressing both his good side and the edge of what remains on the other.

Ezra curls his arm around your waist and pulls you down, bucking up again with another groan. He sits deep inside you, making sparks run through your veins, the feel of him giving you as much pleasure as his graveled groans and panting breath. .

“I’m not going to last,” he mumbles, biting his lip again, “I’m…you feel…f-feel so good.”

You roll your hips over him, your clit rubbing against the dark curls at the base, moaning as he bucks up, rubbing over something electric deep inside. The sight of his face tilted back, eyes half closed in bliss, as his arm sits like a vice around your waist, it brings you to the edge of your own climax much faster than anticipated. Your thighs are protesting, sweat drips down your back, and Ezra claims your mouth again, while you work yourself up and down over his slick cock.

He’s rambling, mumbling into your mouth between licks of his tongue, he’s getting messy, kissing the corner of your mouth, down your jaw, burying his face into the crook of your neck while he grinds against you. His teeth sink into your shoulder as he cries out, his body going rigid underneath you, a hoarse shout against your skin and your own climax explodes. You know you’re leaving marks on his skin, but you can’t let go, Ezra is rolling his hips up, pumping himself into you as best he can, pulling you down onto him.

As your muscles relax you feel him loosen his grip on you too, and you drop your head down on his shoulder, caressing his back, his arms, pressing slow kisses into his sweat damp skin.

“My sweet girl,” he mutters, kissing the mark he left on your shoulder, “my sweet, sweet girl,” heavy breaths still making his chest rise and fall as he pants.

You rake your fingers through his damp curls and lift yourself off him, helping him handle the condom and toss it. Ezra stretches out and you curl into his side, sighing deeply and closing your eyes.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch anymore,” you mumble into his chest, and you hear the chuckle rumble under you between deep breaths, still recovering.

“I’m sure we’ll figure out other usages for the couch if you intend to keep this up with my broken old bones,” he says, smiling, his eyes closed as he begins to caress what he can reach of your back.

You both lie in peaceful silence for a little while, your breathing returning to normal, and your bodies cooling down. When the air raises goosebumps on your skin, you pull the covers over you both, and Ezra makes you curl closer to him.

“You really don’t find it repulsive?” he asks after a while, and tilt your head to look up at him, you know what he’s referencing. His dark eyes are turned to you with a questioning look, the smallest hint of worry clouding his forehead.

“No, I really don’t,” you say, moving your hand so that you can caress the scars at the end of his severed arm, “It’s just skin, or proof that you’ve survived something very difficult, why would I find it repulsive? I’m very happy you survived it.

Ezra places his lips on your forehead, kissing you softly while his one good arm pulls you in tighter.

“Thank you.”

“There you go, Mrs Levinson, all set for the weekend, I envy your guests, you sure do spoil your grandchildren! But I know you would spoil me just as well if turned up on your doorstep like a stray dog.”

Ezra gives the elderly lady his warmest smile and a wink, mischief twinkling in his eye as she returns the wink.

“Ezra, you scoundrel,” she giggles, “you know you’re both always very welcome for dinner any day, and I’ll make sure to spoil you rotten.”

“Never would I be so uncouth as to impose such inconvenience on you, Mrs Levinson,” he replies, a hand on his chest in mock shock, “You should come to our house, I’ll cook my famous one armed bandit stew,” he grins and Mrs Levinson giggles again.

“Oh Ezra, you really do brighten my day, you’re such a treasure to have around,” she titters, collecting her shopping bags, “And I’ll be sure to take you up on that offer.”

“You’re too kind, Mrs Levinson, enjoy the rest of your day now, you hear!” he smiles as she gives him a wave and steps out through the front door.

Ezra turns and heads back into the kitchen, where you’re preparing the final batch of millionaire’s shortbread, sprinkling chopped peanuts over the melted chocolate.

“I may have invited Mrs Levinson for dinner,” he says, coming up behind you and wrapping his arm around your waist, “Said I’d make my stew.”

“I heard,” you reply, “your famous ‘one armed bandit stew’? You’re too much, Ez,” you laugh as Ezra chuckles.

“I did always have a flair for marketing,” he smirks, "maybe we should rename the bakery too, make it official.”

“Make it official that the scandalous baker and her ‘one armed bandit’ are in it for the long haul?” you ask, turning around so that you’re facing him and can see his warm smile as he looks down at you.

“Are we in it for the long haul, my sweet girl?” he replies, bending down to brush the strong curve of his nose across your check, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Well, it’s been two years, and you haven’t tried leaving again, so I think I finally made you realize I want you around,” you mumble as he nudges your head to the side to make better rooms for his kisses.

“You’re stuck with me now, sweet girl,” he mutters, “do you regret it?”

“Not even a little,” you sigh, tangling your fingers into his soft curls and he chuckles.

The bell over the door jingles and Ezra straightens up.

“Go on, Ez, go charm another customer into buying more than they need.”

“Yes, boss,” he smirks, pressing a final quick kiss to your lips before he hurries back into the shop.

“Good afternoon, ma’am, how may I help you on this most beautiful day?”

Part Fifteen

Specifically tagging my Ezra mentor @morallyinept !

@harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers

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