#amanda writes (kind of)

[soporificshoebill]

I half jokingly started writing this for Smosh Girlies Week Day 5: Smoffice and then it very rapidly got out of hand and had some actual emotions and etc sneak into it. So uh. Well. Enjoy a largely-unedited fic of "Angela watches the S&B video for the first time at the creator event, Courtmangela flavored".

Tentatively titled: "Leather and Harnesses". Nothing explicit here! Beyond what was in the music video I guess. I might move this onto ao3 at some point if im brave enough.

*mandatory disclaimer. this is rpf. f for fiction. dead dove. etc etc.

-----------

In retrospect, maybe Angela should've been a little better prepared.

In her defense, there's only so much you can prepare for when it comes to "Your workplace is making a music video about being submissive and breedable and your two coworkers/close friends/people you definitely have regular feelings about are playing dominatrixes in said videos. To your bosses. Who are calling themselves submissive and breedable."

Actually, Angela isn't sure someone SHOULD be prepared for that situation. Even if they have a job that involves sentences like "We need to have a safety meeting about where we're storing the floggers".

That said- maybe there were warnings. Signs. She had some knowledge of knowledge of what the video would entail- the theme of the video wasn't a secret internally, nor was the involvement of the cast. Or their roles. Even if Anthony and Ian didn't love making jokes about being submissive and breedable, Angela certainly wasn't going to forget Amanda and Courtney bounding up to her at 11 AM, full of excitement, crowing "Guess who are the sexy doms of the office!"

No, that moment is absolutely seared into her brain. She remembers the extreme hot flush that came over her body, and she remembers making a vague strangled noise that could, generously, have been interpreted as a "woo!" or a "yay!" in response to the news. and definitely not air punching out of her lungs at the thought.

And she remembers, what she thought was the world showing her mercy that Amanda and Courtney didn't seem to pick up on anything amiss, other than a long pause, with Amanda's gaze lingering a bit on her expression, and Courtney drifting closer, something charged in the air for a long second- before they continued their celebration.

Now, standing in a room full of her peers, slightly tipsy, watching her bosses on a screen chant "Submissive and Breedable", and feeling a mounting sense of dread. Angela is realizing maybe the world wasn't being merciful. It was just biding its time.

And- okay, fine. Angela should've known. She should've been ready. Maybe she'd let herself get lulled into a false sense of security in the last few months as her reminders of the shoot mostly boiled down to Erin griping about logistics during coffee dates, or Amanda or Courtney being busy on certain shoot days.

Smosh tried hard to keep details on this one under wraps, which meant Amanda telling Angela that they "did me all up in leather" (complete with an eyebrow waggle) or Courtney saying they "looked DAMN good in a harness", but not many details beyond that. Which had been fine for Angela, who, at the time, was already going through the full spectrum of human emotion trying to respond normally to this information, potentially failing, and then discarding the interactions from her brain before she could linger on them forever.

(And- fine, maybe she'd been trying hard not to think too much about the shoot because,  more than it being Amanda and Courtney, it was Amanda AND Courtney. And because ever since the shoot, sometimes it felt like they were sitting a little closer than they used to. Like there was a sort of newfound understanding, or something, some kind of bonding experience there.

Where sometimes Angela would look up and they seemed to be gravitating towards each other a little more. Leaning a little closer to each other, or laughing at an inside joke clearly from their time shooting the music video. Little touches.

Nothing big, and it wasn't like- it wasn't like Angela was being left out of anything, technically. Amanda still was her lovely, caring, physically affectionate self, pulling her into warm hugs, leaning against her whenever she was near, as they talked up a storm about anything from the latest Dateline to LA traffic. Courtney still lit up whenever they saw her, immediately sharing gossip and compliments with equal joy, pulling her into selfies and hooking their arms together whenever they wanted to bring her somewhere, or just because.

It wasn't anything big, it was maybe just in Angela's head- the fact that, recently, when it was the three of them sometimes it felt like they were both watching her, that they sometimes giggled together quietly and it made Angela feel. Odd. Maybe it was just Angela, on the days when both of them were out, thinking too hard or too long about the idea of them- both of them- at a "sexy" shoot together, even if sexy shoots were never sexy during the creation process. Maybe it was something about the idea of them, in leather and harnesses, together, getting closer, while Angela-)

Well. Angela had been trying to not think too much about it, was the point.

And now, here, in a room full of Youtubers and coworkers and people she likes and respects, she's going to pay for it.  Angela can't tear her eyes away, as her bosses- her bosses- dance and sing "Submissive and Breedable" and before she can brace herself properly, the song moves into its first verse, and-

Fuck.

Courtney, is onscreen, silhouetted in red, in a harness and tanktop. Courtney with a fake tattoo sleeve and their hair slicked back with chains around her neck and-

Courtney making a beckoning motion with her hand, Courtney throwing Ian onto a bed, Courtney slapping a riding crop on her hand, jesus fucking christ-

The song continues, the background switching to a white room with bbno$ and her bosses dancing in BSDM gear, and honestly, that's fine, because Angela is still trying to remember how to breathe. And think. She knows her jaw is agape right now and she's too busy trying to continue standing upright to care.

She can't decide whether to be glad or horrified that right now, at this moment, none of her friends are around her. Amanda and Courtney, while proud of their work, had both understandably opted out of being in the room during the initial screening, and Chanse, Erin, and Mallory had abandoned Angela for more drinks.

And by now Angela deeply, deeply regrets not joining them. She takes a gulp of her wine, wincing as it burns down her throat, trying to stabilize her breathing and ignore the way her whole body is overheating. Only for Anthony on screen to put on some kind of VR headset, and the background turns purple and Angela nearly swallows her tongue because -

Amanda.

It's Amanda, except Amanda in dark makeup and a dark lip and a high ponytail and- oh fuck, she wasn't kidding about the leather- a form fitting leather dress and harnesses and chains and- she's holding a collar-

-and she has on a choker that says "Mommy"-

(In some distant, distant part of her brain, Angela is glad that the people around her are wolf whistling or ooh-ing or laughing because she's pretty sure she made a noise when she saw the collar and she doesn't think it was a dignified one.

Most of her brainpower, however, is currently dedicated to stopping her knees from giving out under her and not crushing her wine glass under the influx of white hot arousal coursing through her body.)

There's a shot tilted up at Amanda, leather dress skin tight, riding crop in her one hand and makeup and hair and everything flawless. Am i dead. Angela faintly wonders to herself. Am I dead and my hell is me watching my close friends be the hottest thing I've ever seen in a room of professional acquaintances. On screen, Anthony is crawling at Amanda's feet, and- All Angela can think about is that being her. A collar around her neck, and Amanda over her and Courtney with her riding crop and-

Oh god. Oh god.

Something in her brain short circuits at this moment, goes so far into a kind of horny shocked awe that it loops back into a white numbness.

She tears her eyes away from the screen as the music video shifts, thankfully, back to the chorus and the white room and the dancing, and gulps down the rest of her wine, if only to try to stop staring in openmouthed shock. Looking away and staring intently at her cup doesn't help, much, though, because she's pretty sure she's going to have these images emblazoned across the forefront of her brain for the rest of the day. Or life. On loop in her mind, images of tight leather, and harnesses, and jawlines and-

shit. shit. shit. She steals a peek up at the screen, and- something vaguely goofy is happening but also Amanda and Courtney are both there now, still in their getup, still looking- fucking hot as hell, and- Angela averts her gaze again. She knew how she felt about both of them, on some level, okay, but she wasn't. Prepared. For this.

Across the room, Chanse is whooping a little as he watches the screen, new drink in hand. And because he sucks, and she hates him, he seems to feel Angela's gaze, and glances over at her, before a knowing grin spreads across his face.

He's not even saying anything, but she knows he knows. He's one of her best friends, and he's looking at her red face and unsteady stance and her empty cup and she knows, he knows. He's probably known this whole time, and he's silently laughing, now, and Angela's going to kick his ass the moment she's close enough. And remembers how to make her legs work.

Her revenge plot is interrupted by an eruption of clapping and cheers as, apparently, the music video concludes. Somehow, she'd survived. People are cheering and whistling as Anthony and Ian shuffle back towards the center, and Angela is- remembering how to breathe again, mostly.

Only to nearly jump out of her skin, shrieking a little bit as a familiar hand falls on her shoulder. "Enjoy the show?"

"I-" Angela attempts to get her heart rate under control as Amanda grins at her, the colors on her shirt swimming in her vision a bit. "You- well- I."

"I think that's a yes." comes Courtney's voice from over her other shoulder, and, okay, yeah, maybe Angela can just die now, because there's one hand on each of her shoulders and they're on both sides of her, Angela cannot stop thinking about how good they both smell, and-

"-Ang? You there?" and she blinks, and Amanda and Courtney are both in her vision now. Courtney eyeing her with a hint of warm concern, hand still on her shoulder. Amanda is facing away as Ian and Anthony drone on, but with an arm looped through hers, a warm and steady presence. When Angela doesn't immediately respond, Amanda glances back as well, a question in her eyes. Courtney, without saying a word, grasps Angela's hand and gently pulls Angela past the people standing behind her, maneuvering back towards the wall, away from the crowd. Amanda's arm stays looped through hers, shoulder pressed against hers until they come to a stop towards the back.

Once situated, Amanda swaps out Angela's empty cup for a cup of water (when did she even get that) and Courtney pats her arm. "Wow, that bad, huh?" They say jokingly, although there's a hint of vulnerability, there. Amanda reaches a hand out and squeezes Courtney's shoulder, before fixing her gaze back on Angela. "I'm sure it was- a lot..." Amanda trails off, uncharacteristically unsure. Angela, sensing the shift in the air, stumbles over her words.

"It was fucking incredible. You guys looked. Hot as fuck. I- it was. Really- good." She finishes lamely, self consciousness raging back in as she speaks. In the background, whatever speech Ian and Anthony are giving winds down, but Amanda and Courtney's gazes don't waver.

"Yeah?"

Amanda and Courtney exchange another glance, a little warmer this time. but this time, pressed between them, Angela doesn't feel left out of- anything, doesn't feel like she's missing anything, especially as they look back at her, a warm understanding growing between all three of them. She pulls in the arm Amanda is looped through to one side, and squeezes Courtney's hand with the other, pulls them both closer. Something about all of this feels- familiar, and safe, and suddenly Angela can find her words again.

"Yeah. Couldn't stop looking. At either of you. Nearly dropped my drink. You guys weren't kidding about the harnesses or leather, huh? No idea how I stayed standing, honestly."

As Angela talks, Courtney's smile turns a little more wicked, and Amanda's posture smoothes into something more confident and steady.

Spurred on, she bites the bullet.

"I don't suppose either of you got to keep any of those outfits, or anything."

Amanda's smile is blinding, and dangerous, stirring something deep in her core, and Courtney's hand in hers squeezes once, twice, as Amanda says, slowly.

"Oh, for you, I think we can find them again."

#smosh #amanda lehan canto #angela giarratana #courtney miller #smosh girlies week #smosh rpf #courtmangela #listen i really and truly dk what came over me here #i uh. well. hope folks enjoy? #i apologize if this is incoherent or rough i started vaguely writing it yesterday and then kind of just. hammered it out after work #in a few hours. IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORTER THAN THIS I JUST KEPT. adding in scenes to make it make sense. #smosh fic #my fic #ive written literally 2 fanfics before in my life. so. hopefully this is decent #amangela #courtgela #courtmanda #s&b courtmangela #my new tag for things in this universe i guess

[jackyfalahees]

Eagles are so important to King Arthur of Camelot reason #1960 (aka sword fic snippet god knows what please help me):

What was his rule?

A strike to the chest-- but only once.

Only for today.

He saw Lancelot fall back between the blades, expanding the field, retreating towards the bench, and there it was, there was his chance--

Just between the cracks, Kay said, between where armor connects the sides and protects the back.

No chivalry, no holiness, no divinity in his behavior.

But the day would end, and he'd breathe again, and she'd know he was right--

What was in the sky?

A King is not only protected by God, Merlyn said, but his symbol, a sign sent to him in times of need to make decisions. What will you choose, Arthur?

He was fifteen, and he wanted to fly away from his destiny until he reached the sun and burned.

An eagle screeched, wings spread wide and talons hidden beneath fast feathers.

————

#he is SOOOOOOO mentally ill!!!!! #it’s remarkable how crazy he is! #anyways. here ya go. #I always get torn between doing pre or post sword bonk because: #one is unhinged in a fun way and the other one is unhinged in a sad way :( #amanda writes (kind of) #camelot musical #amandalot

[tallmadgeandtea]

Hi! SS&SP Chapter 11 is finally finished! With a shit ton of editing and little time to do it, of course, but here’s a snippet from a fun future scene where Lizzie and the boys get into shooting shenanigans, and Benjamin… well… you’ll see:

“You should demonstrate your special move, Bennyboy.” Caleb Brewster said, his mouth curled in a sly grin. He moved the pistol between his hands as if it were a plaything, wooden and ineffective, the bullet a ball tied to a string.

Elizabeth redirected her attention back to Benjamin. “Oh?”

He glanced downward, “I don’t think that’s necessary, Caleb. Would be a waste of bullets.”

“What are you referring to, Mr. Brewster-”

“Eh, Lizzie, what did I say?”

“Caleb.”

“I once saw him shoot a man while flying on his horse like a devil outta hell.” Caleb replied. “Quite a sight to see if you ask me.”

“She didn’t,” Benjamin said curtly.

The rest of the group’s interest piqued, the conversation lulled, nonverbal deliberation hanging in the air with the gunsmoke. “I agree with Brewster,” Hamilton, of course, with an eerily similar scheming grin— a gunner’s grin. “I haven’t seen a good cavalryman perform since my last raid with Harry Lee.”

Benjamin scoffed, a low, warning laugh. “I’m not performing, Hamilton.”

“Let him go.” Tilghman looked over his shoulder, past the tree line and towards Headquarters. Were the sentries watching, or was she seeing things? He shook his head, smiling gently at Elizabeth. “His Excellency doesn’t want any shooting that isn’t drills, let alone a pistol from horseback.”

“You’re wrong about that, Captain,” Caleb clicked his tongue, “we’ve been at it for an hour and he still ain’t sent one of those men to come and scold us.”

Tilghman bristled at the casual rebuttal. “Don’t push your luck.”

“It’s my speciality.”

“I will push mine,” Lafayette finally entered the petty argument, “His Excellency listens to any explanation I offer. Is that not the case, gentlemen?”

“Always is!”

She ignored the rising argument over Washington’s favoritism. She looked back at Headquarters. Was he watching? Standing at his office window with his hands behind his back, distracting the others from copying orders? Would he bring it up at dinner?

If they let me stay, I’ll defend them. If worse came to worst, she’d show Washington her shot. And she’d tell him Benjamin was the reason why. She still felt his strong hands on her arm, perfecting her stance, the way he whispered in her ear, the way she turned around and her chin almost grazed his shoulder, the way he smiled when they saw the bullseye.

The bullseye wasn’t on the target, though.

“Major Tallmadge?”

“Miss?” Benjamin’s voice struck down the argument.

“Will you do it for me?”

He considered it- he considered her, searching her expression in the lull between speaking, she tilted her head to the side, giving him a soft, inviting smile. Clever girl, Elizabeth. She tried convincing herself it was wrong to use what she learned in Philadelphia on him.

Useless.

“…If you really want me to, Miss Walker.”

Elizabeth and Caleb exchanged the weapon. She held the pistol. Was the handle still warm? Still pulsing with their shared energy? “I do.”

Benjamin nodded, resigned. “Just a moment.”

He took the pistol from her and tucked it into his belt. He left the group, grabbing his helmet and cradling it on his side. He disappeared from the clearing and transformed into a silhouette until he reached Headquarters.

Caleb inhaled sharply through his teeth, shaking his head. He folded his arms. “He just can’t say no to you, Lizzie.”

Lafayette and the aides raised their eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. Elizabeth caught Tilghman’s expression change— changed to his curious, almost apprehensive look from earlier. Take a step back, Ben, he’d said. She hadn’t notice they were practically- she couldn’t call it an embrace. Yet there was no other word she could use.

Even though he technically outranked him, Benjamin had listened to the order.

#SS&SP CONTENT IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2024!!!!! #I actually finished the chap last Monday but if you can’t believe it. I was actually OUT OF THE HOUSE nearly the whole week! #anyways #they’re SO sillay! #so young and dumb and hot #who is this referring to? all of them #Miss Walker got her Glock! well. flintlock #the summer soldier and the sunshine patriot #SS&SP #turn fic #turn: washington's spies #amanda writes (kind of) #long post #otp: first thing in the morning

[siouxsick]

heyy so i wrote something for the first time in a while. it’s basically a character study-ish thing of amanda young and her life now that the trailer for saw X has come out !!

#it’s not the best thing in the world but i like it and i’ve been trying to write more lately so #amanda young #saw #saw x #sawposting #jigsaw #shotgunshipping #lynnmanda #kind of? #mark hoffman #peter strahm #adam stanheight #adam faulkner stanheight #lawrence gordon #john kramer #cecil adams #🪚 #saw movies #saw franchise #saw 2004 #saw i #saw ii #saw iii #bpd #character study

[sunshinediaz]

after much deliberation (thirty-six minutes) i've decided to mark timeloop fic as complete and change the title, teehee

#timeloop fic = my 100k+ steddie fic #god if only i had the motivation to write that last chapter but alas #the end i've got set up fits it well and i think. that's where i'll leave it #because i don't LIKE agonizing over it being there in my wips when i kind of just want to leave steddie in the past where it belongs #had a great time made some good friends but i am simply. done. #teehee #amanda talks

[mermaidsirennikita]

I do find the pen name game with romance so fascinating. And like. Weirdly comforting? Like you could just flop the fuck out and be like "well I guess I'll start over with another fucking pen name". I wish we had pen names for real life.

#romance novel blogging #[we do caroline that's called faking your death and committing identity theft] #but jayne ann krentz! #famously one of the romance greats #(also known as amanda quick to historical romance enthusiasts) #flopped out of her name and had to start over w a new one #and you don't even have to flop out of a name to create a pen name #you can just make one to do something new #like if you're known for bomb gilded age historicals and you wanna write dark mafia contemporaries #if you wanna start any kind of indie career after being established in trad #so on so on so on #i mean i feel like so few people in romance write under their government names #might as well have like five of them

[royalreef]

(( Speaking of which, I should probably talk some day about the “foster system” that Amanda’s branch of things runs and operates for the Merkingdom.

#Most secret royal advisor || OOC #I'll show you such wonderful things 'til you're just like me || Amanda Vanderbilt #(( hi vera guess what other green thing has orphanages #(( tbf it would have needed to exist otherwise #(( as like. a Thing the government needs to have some kind of system in place to take care of #(( but it got slid into the branch of things that amanda would eventually end up in control of #(( for more complicated royal politic reasons #(( but mainly because of the specific symbiotic relationship the throne has with amanda's religion #(( i should call it depthism more but #(( it feels so silly to say. which is ABSOLUTELY on purpose and basically called that as the royals insulting landfolk. #(( but still. writing it a different matter altogether. #(( some day i'll also write a post for the specific theology of said religion and how they conceptualize the world #(( spoiler: its Weird

[littlechillis]

husband hunting at the farmers' market

#if lana del rey won't write this song i will #the men there are always a certain kind of yum......... #amanda chats

[vapourchild]

“Cherríe Moraga in Loving in the War Years (1983) explores the themes of identity when one never possessed the original language, never told the original story, never resided in the harmony of legitimate heterosexuality in the garden of culture, and so cannot base identity on a myth or a fall from innocence and right to natural names, mother’s or father’s….Malinche’s mastery of the conqueror’s language—a violation, an illegitimate production, that allows survival. Moraga’s language is not “whole”; it is self-consciously spliced, a chi - mera of English and Spanish, both conquerors’ languages. But it is this chimeric monster, without claim to an original language before violation, that crafts the erotic, competent, potent identities of women of color. (p. 56)

Our bodies, ourselves; bodies are maps of power and identity. Cyborgs are no exception. A cyborg body is not innocent; it was not born in a garden; it does not seek unitary identity and so generate antagonistic dualisms without end (or until the world ends); it takes irony for granted. One is too few, and two is only one possibility.” (p. 65)

—Donna Haraway, A Cyborg Manifesto (1985)

i found this passage striking when i first read it —so much so that i pasted it in my notes app and rediscovered it recently which is why this is currently being written, lol

i love this idea of a lack of origin or a post-origin (non-origin)? it’s a reversal of the Edenic myth of original innocence, where the reversal says instead that there is no Eden to begin with from which we then fall—it is precisely the Fall which PRECEDES and CREATES the Garden from which one falls. the wound comes first, then the unscathed original body is conceptualised in response to the wound. before the wound the uninjured body is simply there, unthought of in any terms of injury or wholeness. i think zizek said something like this in one of his lectures (the hegelian wound, like thats the hardest name ever).

i’m thinking of this in the context of singaporean postcoloniality. i know decolonial is the preferred term in academia now over postcolonial because post- implies an ending and after-the-ending-ness which doesn’t appropriately describe the continued legacy of colonialism in colonised countries. but i actually kind of like the word post-colonial precisely for that sense of pastness & perpetual afterness which i feel distinctly characterises the postcolonial experience. i don’t mean afterness in the sense of an ending, i mean afterness in itself, the concept whose very condition of possibility is its before (after all, afterness can only exist as a concept if it has a before). so instead of suggesting a clean break from coloniality after the last colonial powers withdrew, the word postcolonial to me suggests a perpetual reference to, and being conditioned by, coloniality. far from suggesting a state after the End of Colonialism, the word postcolonial more than anything suggests the continued hauntological recursion of colonialism in colonised countries. whatever state we are in now is always a post-, a post-script, to the original wound of colonisation. (i don’t want to be taken as overly fatalistic and saying that there’s no room for self-determination under the overbearing spectre of colonisation. all i mean is that to think that a total excision of the colonial past from the present has been achieved is naïve.)

anyway for those of us who have never seen or experienced a world before colonisation, those of us born always already fallen from innocence, this post-ness is particularly poignant. our condition and our identity always bears the chimeric cyborg marks of postcoloniality in the sense that we don’t have a unitary self. maybe i’m just speaking for myself here but i always experience a degree of anguish when i get laughed at by the auntie selling coffee when i butcher my kopi order, or when i remember the time i had to repeat “cold war” 7 times to the american guy at the flea market in new york because he couldn’t understand my non-rhotic accent—i feel unrooted, monstrously hybrid, neither here nor there, belonging nowhere; not angmoh enough to be fully angmoh, not asian enough to be fully asian. and even as i speak about coloniality i speak about it in English, the received language of the coloniser (see above quote) in the epistemic frameworks of coloniality (occident/orient dichotomy); that’s just what comes intuitively to me. even as i experience the anguish of yearning for a return to an origin, there is no prospect of return because the origin is non-historical, a-temporal; it’s not the actual precolonial past, it’s a postcolonial imagination of a precolonial past, already infected with the images and ideas of coloniality.

that’s why i found haraway’s manifesto so compelling in its affirmation of cyborg-being, i suppose because it is the only way of being i feel is open to me. and instead of eternally straining towards a phantasmic Eden, i can affirm my fallenness by rejecting the Biblical tendency to stress the superiority of originary unity and explore the discursive possibilities of postcolonial cyborg-being.

“post”-script (hehe): amanda lee koe’s performance lecture A Cyborg Island Manifesto (2022) is a really great reflection on cyborg postcoloniality too i was really lucky to get to see it live it was really epic

#donna haraway #cyborg #postcolonialism #tropics #singapore #amanda lee koe #zizek #hegel kind of but hes not that important here #did i write this bc i keep getting clowned by the hawker centre uncles and aunties for my angmoh pronunciation maybe the answer is yes actua #i hope this made sense maybe some ppl relate idk lol

[sadrockandwaltzes]

Saw AU (PLEASE CREATE)

The Saw franchise characters but in the plot of Rear Window (the Alfred Hitchcock movie)

#saw #rear window #story ideas #fanfiction #saw au #The photographer of course makes me think Adam as well as the guy's problems with the class difference between him and his gf #^Lawrence #or more likely Lawrence would be the dancer from across the way since Adam was taking pictures of him (Gordon would still be doctor though) #but maybe single since his marriage fell through. He could also be the pianist (still a doctor) who saves Adam (Ms Lonely Hearts) #but on the other hand the killer made me think of Mark Hoffman (at least the fandom version) which would make Peter a good fit for the mc #There is a detective but he's kind of nonchalant- could be Peter's buddy Eric #There are a lot of characters in the saw franchise so I'm sure some could be worked to fit all the Rear Window characters #The utter and unjustified devotion on Lisa's part (RW) is reminiscent of Amanda's towards Jigsaw #Amanda could maybe be Ms. Lonely Hearts and John could be the perfectionist pianist (neither of them killers nor in love- just friendship) #the couple who's dog is like their baby to them could be Dr. Lynn and her husband(?) #Anyway PLEASE PLEASE SOMEBODY WRITE THIS #I NEED THIS SO BAD #SAW WINDOW/ SAW IT THROUGH MY REAR VIEW WINDOW #PLEASE #SOMEBODY #I'LL EVEN WRITE A THOUGHTFUL COMMENT INSTEAD OF JUST KUDOSING

[luveline]

hiiiiiiiii jade! <3

would you be willing to write a fic about girl dad!spencer x bombshell!reader? i can only imagine what an adorable riot their daughter would be!!!

tysm!

ty for requesting!! mom!reader

Spencer always thought you were too beautiful for him. Too funny, too brave, too confident. For years he feared he’d never be anyone you could love; he was the opposite of all your best parts, he talked too much about the wrong things, he went red whenever you so much as looked at him, and he couldn’t flirt back, not for anything. 

But it’s been a very long time since he felt that way. What good is a father who doesn’t believe in being yourself? Amanda deserved to be loved from the moment she drew breath, and he shouldn’t have been any different. 

Now, though, he’s wondering if he shouldn’t be so accepting of all her whims. “I am not wearing that, daddy,” she says. 

She’s just old enough to put together sentences but young enough that the individual words sound like building blocks, chunky and clumsy on her little mouth. Her lips are yours, her smiles and frowns one hundred percent you. (Though you argue with him often that the quizzical pout she does is all his.)

“What do you mean, angel?” he asks, bent over her sock drawer looking for a matching pair. 

“This is pink, and this is purple.” She points. 

“Yes, and you like pink and purple!” 

“I like pink… and I like purple,” she says. 

“But not together?” he asks knowingly. “You want them at different times, is that it?” 

She runs for his legs, hugging them tightly. “Thank you.” 

“You’re so much like your mommy it’s scary,” he whispers playfully, leaning down to pat her small back. “Okay, angel. I’ll find you a different dress to wear. Or maybe the dungarees!”

She lifts her chin up to smile at him. “Y’okay.” 

“Spencer, Amy!” you call, voice carrying from the kitchen. “Are you guys ready? We have to go soon and you haven’t even eaten!” 

Spencer used to sit at his desk daydreaming about you. He’d drink five cups of tea a day to get to walk past you for the kitchenette, hoping you’d be making a coffee, that you’d flirt with him over corporate rewarded donuts. Now you’re making him breakfast as he persuades your daughter into jelly shoes because she wants tall shoes like mommy. They compromise —Any will wear the wrong shoes if Spencer agrees to carry her to the kitchen table. 

“Sorry,” Spencer says as he pushes open the door into the kitchen. He's trying to be the best dad he can be all the time, but he doesn’t have a knack for the mornings like you do. “We won’t be late.” 

“That depends on how agreeable my lovely girl is feeling today.” You pick up the pink plastic plate you’ve filled with eggs, toast, and a mix of washed berries. “What do you think, Amy? Looks nummy?”

“Chocolate chip?” she asks, eyes already widening. 

“It’s breakfast, honey,” you say, scooping her out of Spencer’s arm to carry her to the table. “Chocolate chips are for dinner.” 

“Please?”

“If you promise to be really super duper good at Uncle Derek’s, then yes, you can have some chocolate chips,” you say, tucking her chair in, and kissing her chubby cheek. “You want me to make you milk or juice, mm?”

Spencer spots the two plates you’ve made up for you and him on the counter and quickly brings them to the table, sliding yours in front of you with a long-pronged fork, his hand on your shoulder to keep you in your seat. “I’ll get it,” he says, ducking down to kiss you on the side of the mouth. 

You turn to Amy. “See that, sweetheart? See how nice and kind your daddy is to me? He’s soooo nice. This is why we love him so much, and we appreciate him so much.” 

Amy nods emphatically, blueberries tumbling off of her plastic fork. “So much,” she echoes, her voice like melting sugar. 

He has a weird moment by the fridge where he has to grip the handle. “You know I used to dream about making you a cup of coffee in the mornings?” he asks. 

“Spencer, come over here and kiss me again, please,” you say, sympathetic and fond.

“Me too!” Amy says through fruit. “Me first.” 

“Oh, gosh, this is one of the hardest decisions of my life,” he says, sweeping in to dot your cheeks with kisses, hers then yours, three apiece.

#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

[soporificshoebill]

now im curious as to how disaster!amanda would be in a courtmangelarasha situation. does she pine for the three of them and is genuinely clueless about the reciprocated feelings? is she in a constant state of ‘are they flirting with me or just fucking with me’ ?

HMMM. so the thing about throuple/quartet dynamics is imo, that adding more people to a dynamic is not an addition problem as much as it is like. algebra. yknow. or calculus. w/e. Its not just adding a person, its interplay between all parties involved and their individual and combined dynamics. So while this is probably meant lightheartedly, unfortunately, I ended up thinking extensively about logistics and the how of this, since IMO that changes what Disaster!Amanda looks like and I really want it to feel. Legit. or as legit as RPF gets lmfao.

as always, this is all about RPF amanda, not real amanda, and this is specifically about like, my version of rpf amanda.

in general I think the tricky thing about pining Amanda is that she strikes me as someone to, upon realizing her emotions, either actually have a direct, adult conversation with the person about it, or actively go "oh no". and then do everything in her power to lock that shit down.

So. Hypothetical Amanda might be less of a disaster if she had similar feelings about multiple people simultaneously, over time. I think a key part to my version of disaster!amanda is her being caught off guard, acting in a panic, and then the shitshow that spirals out from that + doubling down. Amanda developing feelings for the three of them over time without confessing to anyone, i think means by the time we hit the full quartet, Amanda would have either tried to do something about communicating, or have somewhat of a handle on how to deal with her feelings solo. (Which could be a great angst thing! But maybe less comedic by that point.)

So in a scenario where Amanda is the only one really out of the loop... hmmm. Tricky for me to immediately come up with the setup. It might need to be something similar to my S&B Courtmangela setup in which the three (Court Arasha Angela) get close and Amanda is like. Fine about it. (Smosh Mouth FOMO tattoo joke style but dialed up x5). And she's flirting with them to deal with it, and they're flirting back, and it just. Keeps escalating. I think there needs to be an element of like, maybe Amanda not realizing she likes them all that way, just knowing she's feeling kind of. Left behind. And she's flirting with them, and they flirt back, and lets be real I think Amanda is the type where if you flirt with her as a bit she Will Double Down, so it would just Keep Going. I think the angst dial is dependent on how much Amanda recognizes her feelings- either she Knows and she's going to hide it from them or die trying (devastating), or she really Doesnt Realize until it culminates in a deeply funny way. Someone is in a kiss with tongue. Shayne is losing his mind because his friend is. A fool. <3

(Angst central: Amanda starts almost exclusively flirting with them when interacting instead of holding proper conversations bc she feels. bad. and is deflecting. Courtney and Angela especially start noticing because hey. They arent clueless. What the fuck. That sucks. Maybe Arasha has to be the one to actually talk to her about it BC Courtmangela have more deeply established ties that are in further jeopardy.............)

OPTIONALLY. if the feelings towards everyone differ drastically/change over time, then it brings back in that fun element of "oh shit oh god oh fuck".

Knowing she would probably try to communicate like an adult, I think there's a lot of fun with the disaster!Amanda in this universe being Amanda not realizing her own additional feelings until comedically late/after other people have already figured it out bc she just doesn't register it as that/is misreading her own emotions/it happens WHILE SHES ALREADY dating one or two of them.

(And again, critically, flirting is happening through all this but not everyone is formally in a relationship.)

My initial instinct about this was "Amangela Courtrasha first", and then the merge. I think a hilarious route for that would be your standard Amangela story, then that all gets sorted. And some time into the relationship, Angela has figured out Amanda's feelings (and her own) towards Courtney and Arasha. + that the flirting that keeps happening is mutual. And so we get:

Angela, loves Amanda (and courtrasha), has slowly realized that Amanda Does Not Realize Her Feelings: 'and you love them too, so-'

Amanda (was staunchly in denial, thought she was safe after figuring out her feelings towards Angela): I WHAT. what. oh shit. THATS what that is???

Or we could have Courtmanda and Arangela first. For max comedy we could have Courtney assuming that Amanda DOES know and so is unbothered by Amanda and Angela acting... well........ wellll...... 👀 and Amanda feels. maybe strange about watching Courtney and Arasha together, not bad but. Strange. (Esp because Amanda has also been looking at Arasha more but maybe she doesnt admit that.) She talks to Court and Courtney compares it to her and Ang and Amanda is okay with them all being- equal, right? (they mean dating but that is lost in the convo). Amanda (clueless) goes. oh like me and ang. of course. :)

And then eventually Angela kisses Amanda and Amanda freaks out and tells Courtney and they're like. .... Amanda did you not know. Amanda tell me you knew. Amanda how did you not realize.

it all works out though. :)

Arasha and Amanda first I'm still thinking about. Maybe a FWB sitch and then... hmm. i might have spent too long on this ask as it is lmfao. ANYWAY. fun ask. sorry if this isnt what you expected.. Unfortunately to me, a 4 person dynamic is not 1 dynamic. its 5-6 dynamics in a trenchcoat.

#my brain gets soo stuck on How the characters get there im so sorry lmfao #i love disaster amanda but i think a criticla thing is that like. for the Disaster™ to hit correctly you have to juxtapose it with like. #the norm. like the disaster behaviour has to have clear and understandable and consistent motivations for it to Hit Right #so for anything prolonged my brain gwts so caught up in like. whats the sunk cost fallacy looney tunes series of events to make this happeb #i AM kind of charmed by the courtmanda one tho... hmmm...... #smosh rpf #amanda lehan canto #angela giarratana #courtney miller #arasha lalani #look i DO love amarasha but i think amanda is probably closer/more familiar with court/ang. at least in my universe. so #any multi-relationship would have interesting development implications #when i say i treat rpf as a writing exercise. this is what i mean. sorry. #ask tag #smosh hcs #courtmangelrasha

[jackyfalahees]

Just so you all know. whenever I see something from Camelot. I want to post snippets from my unfinished fics. But I don’t want to torture y’all like that

#but….. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #amanda speaks #Amanda writes (kind of)

[tallmadgeandtea]

The Peace Testimony

“Lower thy sword, and release it from the throat of thy brethren.”

Chester County, Pennsylvania, 1777. The Battle of Brandywine brings war into the quiet countryside, as both armies fight for control around Philadelphia. Every night since, a young Quaker woman must watch her father try and do the unthinkable: convince soldiers to desert their line and support the Cause of pacifism, not Independence. Esther’s father never succeeds.

Until one night, he does.

—————

“Say good evening to our guest,” Father instructed.

Esther said nothing.

“Captain Daniel Ainsley of the 1st Dragoons,” the solider bowed, “your servant, miss.”

Oh, Good God, he let a horse soldier in? She looked past him, found his saber slung across the table, its sheathed blade hanging over the edge, and his leather helmet, black as night, its horsehair plume, white as snow, cascading above the floorboards. Soldiers with muskets were terrifying, but cavalrymen did the Devil’s work. They scouted routes, spied on neighbors, raided, and cut men down as they ran from their horses, their sabers were Death’s scythes.

“Thou art no servant of mine,” she said.

—————-

(Post script: A short historical fiction story by yours truly.)

#making this to motivate myself #I’m writing it for my creative writing class #have had it in my head for ages #if you guys wanna read it maybe I’ll post it? but where is the question #historical fiction #the Philadelphia campaign #american revolution #amanda writes (kind of) #none of these pictures are mine #the battle of brandywine

[grxmreaperx]

Can I ask for your thoughts on what Saw characters like in the bedroom, like kinks and stuff? :3

of course lovely!! <3

included: Mark, Peter, Amanda, Adam

(this is my first time writing anything with Adam, hopefully i did him some justice!!)

Warnings: 18+!!!

Mark Hoffman

i think y'all know how filthy i think this man would be

kinky as shit

bondage, choking, daddy kink, cockwarming, creampies, hair pulling, corruption kink

prefers to be rough, but will be sweeter if in a relationship/genuinely cares for his partner

i also feel like he'd really like marking (ha) his partner

hickies, handprints on your ass, anything to show people that you're his

king of dirty talk

Peter Strahm

such a soft dom

loves calling his partner pretty names and praising them

very sweet unless you ask him to be rougher

(i'm picturing the scenes of him in the interrogation with Jill👀)

man certainly knows how to be rough, just really likes being sweet with his partner

i don't think Peter is super kinky, but definitely has a couple

probably a daddy and/or sir kink, over-stimulation, praise (both giving and receiving)

king of aftercare

Amanda Young

such a switch

has to hold you close the entire time

so many kisses during sex

obsessed with going down on her partner and making them feel good

loves being praised

i think Amanda would definitely be one to need an emotional connection before having sex

when she's dominant, i could honestly see her being either a hard or soft dom (depending on her mood)

gets jealous very easily (leading to jealous/angry sex👀)

when she's a sub, she's very eager to please

Adam Stanheight

absolutely a sub

type of man that begs his partner to sit on his face (aka the best kind)

loves having music on during sex

loves calling his partner mommy/daddy

so handsy, cannot keep his hands off of you, like ever

wants to die by being suffocated by his partner's thighs

loves watching you ride him

very vocal in bed (moans, whimpers, groans)

every once in a while, gets very dominant

is literally always needy, cannot get enough of his partner

tag list: @bee-who-isnt-french, @enigmatic-blues, @kujofam, @aliengutzstuff, @mysunfishpeedinmyroom, @slut4hoffman, @schrodingersjigsaw, @hoffmansnightmare, @karmaswitch, @mrs-hotforhoffman, @returntodustsblog, @capan-deveraux2, @switchbabeeexo, @librababe99

#saw #saw franchise #mark hoffman x reader #headcanon #smut #amanda young #amanda young x reader #peter strahm x reader #peter strahm #mark hoffman #adam stanheight #adam stanheight x reader

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 8 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is having a hard time trying to convince himself that being with you is wrong, but he plans another date anyway. You're floating on cloud nine after Saturday night, but you're quickly brought back down to earth the next time you see him. Lucky for you, Bradley more than makes up for his indiscretion at the end of the night.

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley was completely stunned, sitting on his living room couch with his soft cock hanging out of his jeans. He heard you start your car, and he saw your tail lights shine through the window blinds as you backed out of his driveway and drove away. 

After nearly a year of being touched by nobody but himself, you got him off so good, he still couldn't move ten minutes later.

"Holy shit," he whispered to his silent living room. You had just given him the best blowjob of his life. His entire life. Bradley had been with his fair share of women, gotten more head than he could keep track of. But you were the best. Hands down, the fucking best he had ever had. 

Maybe it was because it had been so long since he'd been with someone, but he tended to believe it was just you. He was so attracted to you, he should have known you would absolutely blow his mind like that. He should have known you would show up Amanda and Grace and Talia and become the only one he was thinking about. 

Then Bradley cradled his face in both of his hands. You had caught him ready to jerk off with your sweatshirt, moaning your name. How fucking embarrassing. And then you'd agreed to do him a favor and get him off. Your words echoed through his mind, "I can help you with that. If you want."

But you were unattainable. Off limits. The babysitter. Noah was so attached to you. When Nat found out, she was going to lose her mind. And probably not in a good way. Because Bradley was a thirty six year old man with a ridiculous crush on a woman twelve years younger than him. 

He forgot to pay you before you left. Oh god, how was he supposed to pay you after you sucked his cock for him? He was starting to feel worse and worse now. 

Before he could change his mind, he grabbed his phone and messaged back the first random woman who was trying to chat with him in the app. He'd set up another date. He'd set up a million more dates if he needed to. If he didn't get you out of his mind, he'd have to find a different babysitter and break Noah's heart. And probably his own as well.

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

You were still giggly the next day. You couldn't stop thinking about Bradley. You'd given him a blowjob. He had been moaning your name! You wanted to do that again. Maybe he felt the same way about you that you did about him. Your heart was pounding. 

After several texts from Greyson, you decided to keep ignoring him. You had a lot of schoolwork to catch up on, and it didn't help that you knew how big Bradley's dick was and how he tasted. He was bigger and better than Greyson in every way. It wasn't making your day easier envisioning Bradley's eyes practically rolling into the back of his head while you sucked him off, but you indulged in the memories anyway.

The fact that you were masturbating to the thought of him cumming in your mouth when Bradley texted you on Sunday evening should have embarrassed you. But it did not. It made you feel even hotter for him. You really hoped this was him making the next move.

Any chance you're free to come over on Wednesday when you finish your classes?

You bit your lip and squealed, forcing yourself to wait more than five seconds before you texted him back. And when you did, it was with a giddy smile.

I can head over right after class, Daddy. See you on Wednesday.

He didn't end up writing back, but you knew he was busy. So you spent the week avoiding Greyson as much as you could. And when you saw Penny when you were out taking a walk, she waved you down.

"How are things working out with Bradley and Noah?" she asked you with a smile. 

Your mind returned to the velvet feel of his erection gliding over your tongue and the broken, raspy groans of his delicious orgasm.

"Oh, so far so good," you said before pressing your lips together. "Noah is the sweetest child in the world. And Bradley, well. He's actually kind of sweet too."

Penny just laughed and nodded her head. "He really is. When my bartenders found out he's dating again, they both lost their minds. I was thinking about trying to see if he was interested in going out with either of them."

Your heart suddenly felt like it was resting against your lungs, making it difficult to breathe. "Oh. Do they seem like his type?"

Penny laughed harder now. "Bradley's type is female."

Okay, that you did believe. Or rather, you believed any woman who was into guys would be into Bradley. As long as you were cool with Noah, the man was the total package. 

"He only has the most wonderful things to say about you, too," Penny added with a smile. "He said that even though you're so young, he knows he can trust you with Noah. And I don't think he would say that about very many people."

You couldn't decide if that was a compliment or a slight against your age. And when you drove to his house after your final class on Wednesday, you started to feel awkward. Neither of you had mentioned the fact that the last time you were here, you'd had his dick in your mouth. 

"Hi," you called out when you let yourself in, and Noah came running to greet you at the door. You scooped him up in a hug and started to carry him to the kitchen. "Where's your dad?"

Noah just kind of shrugged. "Getting dressed." When you set Noah down at the kitchen table, you immediately noticed a coffee cup sitting on the kitchen counter with Princess scrawled across it. 

You picked it up and took one sip of the French vanilla latte, and then you heard Bradley's voice. "Hey. Princess." You spun around with a bright smile on your face, but his expression had you immediately biting your lip and furrowing your brow. He looked confused and irritated and maybe a little sad. None of those expressions were right for his handsome face.

"Hi," you said softly, hoping you could make him smile. "What are your plans for tonight? Going to try to give me a sore throat again?"

His gaze dropped to the floor, and then you really took in what he was wearing. A nice shirt and chinos. He was going out. He hadn't invited you over to see you at all. 

"Um, actually," he muttered, but you cut him off.

"Actually, you're going on another date?" 

"Yeah." He nodded and briefly met your eyes. "Someone from the app."

He only needed to use you to get his rocks off so he could go out with someone else. God, you were so fucking stupid. He didn't want you at all. He probably thought of you as practically a child. And maybe he found you attractive enough to think filthy things about you, and allow you to suck his dick, but that was it. 

"Okay, have a great time," you said, setting the coffee cup down on the counter. You didn't want another sip. 

"Princess," he whispered, reaching out for you. But you managed to sidestep him as you sat down next to Noah and picked up a coloring book. 

"I hope she's as much fun for you as I was on Saturday night," you said, biting down hard on your lip to keep from screaming at him. 

You felt his presence behind you to the point you could almost feel the warmth of his body. But he didn't say anything, he just placed your coffee cup on the table in front of you, spinning it until the writing was facing you. 

"Thanks for the coffee. I hope you find what you're looking for tonight."

You heard him swallow hard, and then he kissed Noah's head, and then he was gone. And you were left to color some dinosaurs with the kid you wanted to spend all your time with. Too bad his dad was sending you so many mixed signals, you felt like crying. 

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

Bradley felt like an asshole the entire time he was with Gabby. She seemed really sweet, but he couldn't stop thinking about what you said to him. As if you weren't what he was looking for. 

In all actuality, you really were not what he was looking for. But you seemed to be exactly what he wanted. But wanting someone and having long term compatibility were two completely different things. 

"So...." Gabby said for the third time. Bradley could barely focus on her or his dinner. "Tell me more about yourself, Bradley."

He started rambling on about work or some shit. He wasn't even really sure. This conversation was painful compared to the way you and he were together. Or at least the way you and he were before he started to fuck everything up between the two of you. The drunk kissing was bad enough, but the blowjob was just the nail in the coffin of the flirting with you that had him absolutely smitten in the first place. 

Now Gabby was saying something about her job, and he couldn't handle it anymore. "Gabby? Sorry, but I think I'm just too distracted for this tonight."

She glared at him across the table. "Yeah, I noticed. I don't care how handsome you are if you're going to be rude. Pull your head out of your ass next time you ask someone out."

"I'm sorry," he muttered as she stood up to leave, and not a minute later, the waiter arrived with both meals. 

He looked at Bradley cautiously. "Can you pack both of those to go? Please?" Bradley asked. He was going to have to leave this guy a hefty tip, but that was fine. 

He had barely been gone for an hour and a half, and that included driving to the far end of the city. When he pulled into his driveway, he grabbed both meals, and made sure he called out from the front door. "I'm back."

You popped around the corner with Noah in your arms, and Bradley's heart leapt. "You're early," you said in surprise. "We're just about to get in bed." Bradley could tell how tired Noah looked, but he could barely take his eyes off you. 

"Do you want to sing with us, daddy?" Noah asked with a yawn, and Bradley was of course drawn to the two of you like his life depended on it. 

"Of course, bub." A minute later, Bradley was watching you tuck his son into bed while you sang a ridiculous song about dinosaurs that sounded made up. But Noah knew all the words too, and you were both laughing. 

"Night, kiddo," you whispered, brushing his hair back from his forehead. Then you slipped past Bradley without another look in his direction. When he gently reached for your hand, you yanked yourself free and kept walking.

Bradley quickly kissed Noah, and then he was following you into the kitchen where you were packing up Noah's art supplies without a word. There was an open bag of Skittles on the table next to some of your textbooks, and Bradley didn't want you packing those things up. They looked like they belonged there. 

He cleared his throat. "I brought dinner back for you. If you want it."

You laughed a little sarcastically. "I'm not eating another woman's leftovers, but thanks anyway, Bradley." You put your books into your tote bag, and Bradley took a step closer to you.

"Princess," he whispered, and your eyes fluttered closed for a beat. He wanted you, and at times like this, he felt like you wanted him, too. "It's not leftovers. My date bailed before the food came out."

Your stomach growled when he opened the takeout containers, and you rolled your eyes. "Fine. I'm starving." He let you pick between the two meals, and you chose the one he had ordered for himself. He didn't care, he'd eat his date's food. He could barely even remember what her name was at this point, because you were plating and microwaving the entrees like you lived here. 

"I'll just eat quickly, and then I'll be out of your hair," you told him, taking a bite of his filet mignon. Bradley settled down into the seat next to you. He wanted more than anything to talk with you, but he didn't know how. Not after what he let you do last time you were here. So he just took a few bites of food and watched you. 

"Your date bailed early? What did you do?" you asked between bites of steak. Bradley watched your eyes flash with mischief. "Does she know what you did to get those free coffees from the barista?"

Bradley chuckled and shook his head. 

"Oh my god, did you insult her after she told the waitress to hold the salad dressing?" you said, biting into your plush, glossy lip. Then your expression clouded a bit. "She didn't say something negative about Noah?"

Bradley scraped the last bite of his food onto his fork and finished eating. "No. Actually I didn't even get to mention Noah. And I have no idea if she ordered a salad. I can't even remember if I had a salad, Princess. I was so distracted all night."

"Why were you distracted?" you asked softly while Bradley took both plates to the sink. 

He reached into the refrigerator and opened a beer, drinking half of it while he decided what he wanted to say to you. You popped a red Skittle followed by two yellow ones into your mouth, and the movement of your jaw took him back to Saturday night. His cock hitting the back of your throat. His hands on your jaw and your face. Those pretty lips wrapped around his balls. 

"Princess," he groaned, and he watched you shove the last few Skittles into your mouth before jumping to your feet.

"Well, I'm going to head out," you said a bit breathlessly. "Oh, and thanks for dinner and for clarifying that these were not sloppy seconds."

Bradley set his beer on the counter and followed you out into his living room, your tote bag swaying along with your ass in your tiny shorts. "Fuck, Princess. Wait. Please?"

"What?" you asked, glancing back over your shoulder. 

Bradley reached out and ran his fingers along your cheek inhaling the scent of wildflowers. "My date bailed, because I was awful. I wasn't paying any attention to her. I can barely even remember what she looked like."

You turned to face him. "What was her name?"

He shook his head. "I can't fucking remember. All I can remember is you. Even when I'm not with you. That's why she hightailed it out of the restaurant."

You pressed your lips together, but you didn't back away when Bradley stepped into your personal space. "You've been thinking about me?" you asked in barely a whisper.

"Nonstop, Princess. And you wanna know about sloppy seconds? Anyone else ever gives me a blowjob, and I'll be thinking about you the entire time."

Your lips parted on a soft gasp. "Oh."

He nodded, stroking his thumb across your lips. "Best I ever had. I already couldn't stop thinking about you, and that just made it a hundred times worse."

"Bradley," you whispered, pressing yourself against him. He didn't move as you eased yourself up onto your toes and kissed him. You nibbled softly on his lips and sighed, then looked up at him like you felt the same way he did. 

It was so innocent, so fucking sweet. Or it would have been if Bradley wasn't wrapping both hands around your hips and licking the seam of your lips. You parted them immediately for him as your arms came up to wrap around his neck. Bradley tasted your tongue and grunted when he felt your fingers running through his hair.

He broke the kiss and let his hands slide down to palm your ass. "You taste like Skittles. I love Skittles."

You smiled up at him. "Sorry, I didn't save you any." Bradley planted his lips on the side of your neck and listened to you moan and dig your fingers in his hair. 

"I don't deserve any, remember?" he asked, rubbing his mustache below your ear. "I'm a peasant. You're the princess."

You made a soft sound that went right to Bradley's cock as you guided his lips back to yours. "Last time you kissed me, you were drunk," you whispered to him before mashing your lips against his. You were pushing him, walking him back toward the couch, and Bradley couldn't help but go where you wanted him to. 

He sat down a little hard against the cushions, his head tipped back to look up at you. "Yeah. I was kind of drunk. And that was a sin, because my memories are a little fuzzy. And you deserve to be remembered with crystal clarity, Princess."

"Do I?" you asked coyly, standing between his spread legs and clasping your hands in front of you. 

Bradley reached out with his right hand and ran his knuckles up and down your thigh. "Listen, Princess. Your lips wrapped around my cock will fuel my fantasies for years to come, but right now I want my mouth involved as much as possible."

You were instantly climbing into his lap, straddling his hips and pressing your mouth to his again. Bradley welcomed you back into his arms like you belonged there. You peppered some kisses to his lips and mustache before you pulled away from him a little bit with a smile. You were irresistible, and he was grinning right back at you. 

"Okay, go ahead," you told him, gripping his hair and tipping his head away from you. Bradley grunted as your little denim shorts rubbed against his pants creating some friction. "Try to kiss me better than you did after you were out drinking the other night. Because I thought it was pretty great, actually."

He let you tug his hair which was making him throb for you. "What do I get if I win?"

You moaned softly. "The satisfaction of a job well done?"

He shook his head. "Not good enough."

You laughed. "A pat on the back?"

"No," he said, stroking your cheek with his fingers and coaxing your lips closer to his. "I want a fifty percent share of all Skittles consumed in my house."

You gasped so theatrically, he laughed out loud. "That's scandalous. Twenty five percent, or I'm leaving," But you were inching closer and closer to him.

"Deal, Princess," he whispered against your lips, and now he found himself trying to outdo any kisses that came before you. It actually wasn't hard. You'd been his best the last time you were here. Now he wanted to be the best for you. He started off slow now, his fingers teasing along your cheeks and all over your neck. He knew his mustache was prickling along your lip, but you seemed to like it as you were grinding against him a little bit now.

Bradley made sure he was using just the right amount of pressure with his lips, always drawing you back to his kisses. The little sounds at the back of your throat were encouraging, as were your fingers which had dipped inside his shirt at the back of his neck.

He sucked gently on your bottom lip now as his hands found their way to your waist. He nibbled softly on your lip before releasing it, and he was so pleased to see he had kissed off all of your lipgloss. Now your lips just looked extra pouty, and your eyes were needy. 

"How am I doing so far?" he teased, kissing along your chin and your jaw, eventually letting his lips settle on the front of your neck. 

"You must really want those Skittles," you gasped, head tipped back as he worked his mouth against your soft skin. He sucked gently on you there, nearly thrusting against you as you rubbed yourself on him. "Oh!"

And then his hands were a little rougher, squeezing your hips and wrapping around the back of your neck. You leaned into him, clearly not afraid of what his body was demanding as he tasted your tongue and your teeth. He felt your hands on his chest and abs. He could feel your warmth against his cock as you rocked your body into his. He could feel your nipples, hard and rubbing his chest through too much fabric. 

"Princess?" he asked, his lips brushing against yours. 

"Yeah, okay," you said, gasping against his lips, kissing him between sentences. "You win. Twenty five percent of the Skittles. They are yours."

He kissed you, laughing against your lips. "That's really nice and all, baby. But I'd rather taste you right now?"

"Me?" you asked softly, putting a few inches between your mouth and his.

"I want to know if you taste sweet all over, Princess. Will you let me find out?" he asked, stroking his index finger along the zipper of your shorts. He was gauging your reaction to him as you bit your lip and tried to squeeze your thighs together. 

"You want to go down on me?" you whispered, hands gasping along his abs.  

He nodded. "Real fucking bad, Princess."

You licked your swollen lips and whimpered. "Okay, Daddy."

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

Bradley had been so sweet, his brown eyes like something from your dreams. His lips and his hands were all over you, turning you on and making you so wet. But now he wanted to taste you? Find out if you were sweet?

As soon as you called him Daddy again, he had the front of your shorts open, and you were lying on the couch on your back with his big body over yours. 

A moan escaped your lips as soon as he eased his hand inside the front of your underwear and over your clit, and then his mouth was on yours, devouring you. You were making little noises against his lips as he stroked you just the way you liked to touch yourself. It was like he knew how crazy this would make you. And when his other hand ended up inside your shirt, pulling down your bra and stroking your nipples, you groaned his name. 

"You're soaking wet," he said, rubbing his mustache along your jaw in time with his fingers as they worked their way down toward your opening. He teased you like that until you were begging him for more, your fingers tangling wildly in his hair. 

"Please, please," you gasped, and then Bradley was sitting back a bit, his hard dick on display for you through his pants. He yanked your jean shorts down your legs and tossed them to the floor, followed by your lacy, white underwear. 

"Oh, fuck me," he groaned as he looked at you, bare for him from the waist down, except for your socks and sneakers which he left on. 

Then without hesitation, Bradley stroked his hands up the backs of your thighs, spread them wide and brought his mouth down to your pussy. He placed the softest kiss against you there, his mustache making you bite down on your lip in response to the sensation. 

"Bradley," you gasped, feeling your lower back arch off the couch as he ran his tongue from your opening all the way up to your clit in one glorious swipe. 

You should have been embarrassed by the way you were reacting to him. But he just looked up at you with his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking gently before he released you. "You're so sensitive, Princess," he grunted. And then he was running his nose through your wetness and kissing you everywhere. "And you taste so good."

This didn't feel like you expected it to; it felt so much better than that. Bradley's lips and mustache and his fingers and tongue. Everything he did had you gasping, crying out for more. 

"I got you," he promised, spreading your legs wider every time you tried to squeeze them against his head. You were writhing against the couch now, simultaneously trying to pull yourself away from his mouth and also rub your clit against his nose for more. 

"Oh god!" you groaned, loud enough that you should be concerned about waking up Noah. But you couldn't stop! Bradley was licking up and down your slit with sure movements and then sucking on your clit until you were practically in tears. Over and over again. Then Bradley was shoving his fingers inside you and kissing your clit before circling it with his thumb.

"You're getting loud, Princess," he whispered, guiding his body over top of yours again. You wrapped your legs around his hips when he kissed you with his wet lips and face. You were licking yourself off his lips when he asked, "You like how you taste? You're so sweet."

You could only whine in agreement as he pushed your shirt up and buried his face against your lace covered breasts. He kissed his way back down your body, and soon you were grinding against his face while he held your thighs. 

"Oh, god, oh!" you gasped when he was licking and sucking again. You closed your eyes tight as your legs started to shake. And then Bradley pumped his fingers into you a little slower and sucked on your clit with a little more pressure, and you felt yourself clenching hard. You rode his fingers with your feet planted on his shoulders, and he looked up at you like he owned you. 

"Daddy!" you cried out, enjoying what was quite obviously the longest and best orgasm of your life. 

"Call me Daddy again," he demanded before sealing his pretty lips around your clit once more and sucking.

"Daddy!" you groaned, pulsing around his fingers. And then everything felt wet. Really wet. And Bradley's face turned to an expression of awe. And his face was wet, too. You sat up and looked down your body to where his fingers were still rammed inside your pussy. But the couch was wet. "What happened?" you asked, but his lips were on yours, and he was pushing you back down again. 

"Princess," he groaned, still moving his fingers gently inside you, and now you were finally coming down fully from the peak of pleasure he had brought to your body. "Christ Almighty, baby. You're the sweetest fucking thing, aren't you?" He kept praising you, his lips all over your face. And when he finally withdrew his fingers and brought them up to his mouth, you helped him lick them clean. 

And then he was gaping down at you, stroking his knuckles along your cheek. "What happened?" you asked softly. You didn't think your body would ever recover fully enough for you to speak louder than this, but you didn't care. Everything felt too good. 

"You squirted for me," he replied, those big brown eyes roaming all over your face before he kissed you. 

Oh. You still felt wet. You had made a mess on his couch. You could feel the warmth rising in your cheeks. "I didn't mean to," you whispered, suddenly feeling very shy.

"Was so hot," Bradley whispered next to your ear. "Princess." His lips on the shell of your ear and his hard cock pressing against your hip made you feel a little bolder. You tried to sit up, but he was huge on top of you.

"Do you want me to get you off?" you asked, reaching down toward him. But Bradley took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles. 

"No. You've done plenty. You're a Princess, made to be worshipped." You settled back against the couch cushions and let him kiss along your neck until he had his fill.

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

Bradley helped you get dressed. Then he walked you to your car. Then he kissed you goodnight. And then he paid you for watching Noah which made him feel physically sick. You tried to push the money away, but he insisted. Then he went back inside into the bathroom and came hard after stroking himself three times to the thought of your pussy soaking his face. 

He was a mess. A literal fucking mess now. He sat down on the bathroom floor. He had no idea what to do. But then he laughed out loud when he remembered how his night started. He had been on a date with some random faceless woman earlier, but his night had ended with his own face buried in your pussy. 

This was not a good idea. None of this was a good idea. He needed to figure this the fuck out. 

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

Nice work, Bradley. Amazing effort. Enjoy your babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 9

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