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cntloup · 2 days

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one-night stand Simon can't help the inevitable

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

‘What are you doing to me?’ you think to yourself as you reach and grab your phone from the counter for the hundredth time, grappling with the thought of calling him or not.

You stare at the screen for a few minutes and decide to finally dial his number.

“Hey.” his deep voice reaches your ear after four rings, “Hey, Simon!” you say a bit too excited, then mentally slap yourself for sounding too eager.

“Sorry to bother you. Just wanted to ask... if you... umm... would want to go out for dinner... together... on Saturday?” you ramble and shake your head and let out a quiet sigh, ‘Why the fuck am I being so weird?’ you think.

“ ‘s no bother at all. Yeah, I'd like that.” he responds and you sigh in relief, a wide grin forming on your lips.

“Great. See you then!”, “See you, dove.”

You almost melt on the spot when you hear the nickname.

-----

He arrives at your place and the moment he walks inside, you’re all over each other, dinner long forgotten.

Your hands roam around his body, exploring the expanse of his scarred skin, evoking soft moans, almost whimpers from his parted lips while he sloppily, desperately kisses your eager lips.

The feeling of your skin softly, yet passionately caressing his, your warmth surrounding him and seeping through his soul invokes the emerging of a foreign, obscure sensation from deep within his heart, a feeling he only now realizes he’s always longed for.

He can barely contain himself anymore as the warm tingling feeling in his core only increases by the second.

You both quickly and desperately get rid of the confines of each other’s clothes and throw them somewhere on the ground.

His arms wrap around your waist and lift you up only to place you down on the bed before he climbs on top of you.

A rough hand seeks the plush of your hips until it finds shelter on the soft flesh, extending his palm over your skin and grasping tightly while the other rests beside your head to support his weight above you.

His eyes are fixated on yours, burning with the seething flames of desire and it is as though time stops, his rough and rugged, scar-adorned features portrayed in the faint, soft moonlight, the pale light delicately caressing his skin.

“You’re beautiful, Si!” you confess in all honesty, your heart nearly bursting out of your ribcage at his sight.

His cheeks heat up and his breath hitches in his throat, “Don’t be mistaken, dove. You are the beauty... and I'm the beast.” he states in his deep, gravelly voice, making the ever-increasing heat in your core abruptly rise up to the point of being almost unbearable.

You're completely trapped under his bulky weight and fully exposed before him and you happily surrender to him in that moment.

“Take me now, Simon!” you breathe out while pulling him in to kiss his lips with the fervent passion roaring in your heart.

And he accommodates your wishes without hesitation, eagerly ravishing your body as you devour him ravenously in return.

He's fully concentrated, observing your body’s reactions to him, utterly determined on your satisfaction, his body entirely dedicated to you as he gives in to your insatiable desire for him.

He sets a steady pace, providing deep thrusts of his broad hips onto yours, fueling the already raging fire inside you as moans of his name erupt from your throat, overlapping with his deep growls of sheer pleasure.

You squirm and writhe beneath him while massaging your breasts, his hand traveling the distance between your chest and throbbing heat, calloused fingers rubbing your swollen clit, stimulating your sensitive body even further.

You both chant harmonious songs of pleasure, lost in a distorted haze as he brings you to the edge and you’re both surmounted by the euphoric floods of your orgasms.

You lay there in each other’s arms for a while as his mind wanders around the unfamiliar notion of this newfound feeling that you have given rise to.

Your soft snores rattle him out of his thoughts and he slowly shuffles out of your embrace.

He gathers his clothes and puts them on, looks at your sleeping form one last time before taking his inevitable leave... he knew from the start this would never work out.

It nearly rips his heart out of his chest, but he has to... he can’t stay... for your own sake.

He reflects on all the emotions you have invoked inside him, but he notices the deeply ingrained solitude inside him... it would never work out between you.

He walks back home, trying to detach himself from you, your touch, your kiss, your warmth, yet unable to detangle the strings of your souls that have been woven together... he can’t help his heart that was once unreachable, but is now in your inescapable captivity.

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killerlookz · 13 hours

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Hello my fellow Criminal Minds fan! 😊

May I please request headcanons for Spencer falling for a female agent who’s cynical about love and relationships due to being hurt in the past?

a/n: thank you sm for the request! i'd be happy to write this for you! :-)

Falling in Love Again | Spencer Reid Headcannons

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader

content: mentions of reader having been cheated on in the past, uhhhh that's really it haha

word count: 1,478 (sorry she's so long)

Spencer Reid had always been excited about falling in love, the thought of being so close to another person- to share so much with someone was such a wonderful thing to him.

Especially after watching his mom and dad growing up, and the way his father treated her-Spencer was dead set on never becoming anything like him, he looked forward to treating a woman right and spending the rest of his life with her.

But, for as excited as he was he was probably 20 times more nervous about the whole falling in love thing.

So when you came around, and he started to experience that warm, creeping feeling in his chest- he felt a little bit like his world was going to end.

Spencer had never made a move on anyone before, sure he did make out with Lila Archer that one time but he didn't exactly initiate it.

Spencer decided just to channel all of his romantic interest in becoming friends with you, at least he got to spend time with you, that's what really mattered to him. Maybe one day it would turn into something more.

Well.. he hoped until he couldn't help but overhear...

"I went on my first date in months last night, and all this guy did was talk about himself the entire time- didn't let me get a word out, I mean, can you believe it?" Emily says, exasperated

You look up at her as she stands in front of your desk, "Oh, trust me Emily, I can believe it." You shake your head

"I mean," She throws her hands up, "What is it with men? What's wrong with them."

"Everything," You smirk, "They're men. I can't remember I had a good experience with one of them- never maybe?" You laugh. "I've given up on dating."

Your words sunk into Spencer's brain, leaving him with a heavy feeling all around he felt awful- not just about the fact that his chances with you seemed to reduce to zero right there in that moment, but because of how upset you seemed under your sarcastic exterior, he could tell you'd really been hurt before.

A few weeks later you're out for drinks with Emily, Penelope, Morgan, Spencer, and JJ. Amidst the loud, drunken conversations and music at the bar- you can hear the faint chiming sounds of your ring tone, Who would be calling this late?

As you take your phone from your pocket, your stomach drops when you see the number flashing on the screen. The mere sight of those 10 digits making you want to throw your phone to the ground and stomp on it until nothing remains.

"Ooooh, who's that calling." Morgan smirks

You look him dead in the eyes and respond flatly, "My ex."

Morgan's smile doesn't fade instead his smirk seems to deepen, "You two got a little thang goin on?"

"No," You shove your phone back in your pocket, "More like he's trying to get back in my pants after cheating on me- twice."

"Ooh!" Morgan responds, wincing, "So he's a dog."

"A pig is more like it." You scoff, "Who does he think he is. I can't even imagine giving my time to another man again, and even if I could- what makes him so confident I'd give him the time of day."

That familiar heavy pain hits Spencer again.

He's staring at you, and it's like the rest of the bar doesn't even exist. Only you, as you bite your lip, trying to hide any emotion in your face.

Spencer has become good at reading your emotions, maybe it's because he spends so much time with you- maybe it's because of how often he finds himself staring at your face. As much as you try to seem nonchalant, he could tell how upset you are.

Spencer would spend more time than he wanted to admit fantasizing about treating you well, about giving you the love you never seemed to have.

Every time you made a snarky comment about love, or how men had treated you in the past Spencer would want so desperately bad to just tell you about how well he would treat you, how he would never ever hurt you, how he would spend his entire life taking care of you.

The words were practically scratching up his throat, begging to be let out. But still, he would just swallow them down, and give you a sympathetic look, he couldn't muster up being able to do anything more.

At the very least, Spencer's plan of becoming friends with you was working.

The two of you would become very good friends.

Spencer would learn everything he could about you, he would want to know as much as possible.

Not in a weird creepy way- but in a he just thinks you're so amazing he can't get enough of you sort of way.

Every time you and Spencer hung out he wouldn't be able to ignore that nagging feeling, the thought of putting an arm around you and pulling you close, of holding your hand in his, or placing a delicate kiss on your cheek.

The thoughts would eat away at Spencer, and he would only fall more, and more in love with you.

Still, he would lose more hope every time you divulged information about your prior encounters with love. He couldn't blame you for feeling so cynical it, not after what you'd been through.

Spencer would think about his mom, about all the wives Rossi had been through, about Hotch and Hailey, about you- he would wonder why love had to be so painful for some people. He was sure he would never hurt somebody he loved.

One day you're over Spencer's apartment, watching a rom-com, and you make a snide remark, "Oh, real love isn't like that." You scoff and roll your eyes.

Spencer doesn't know what it is, but something in him makes him respond, "It could be." He says meekly

You look up at him, caught off guard at his disagreement, "Hm?" you hum

Spencer wasn't able to take it any more, he hated hearing your cynical nature. He would need you to know how you deserved the entire world.

"Love- It can be like the movies." He affirms his stance.

"Not in my experience."

"I would give you love like that." Spencer would tremble as he makes his confession, so unsure of what would happen next.

He would be terrified of your reaction, scared he was about to mess everything up, ruin any future the two of you had together, and even worse, lose your friendship.

"W-what do you mean, Spence."

"I mean, you always talk about how you've been hurt before, and it just-" He takes a deep breath in, contemplating what he's going to say next, "I love you, y/n," He looks down at his lap, then back up at you, "I would never hurt you."

Despite the obvious passion in Spencer's voice, you were still hesitant about it, but everything inside of you told you to give Spencer a chance.

Spencer would insist on taking things slow, you were his first real relationship and he wouldn't want to rush things, for both his and yours sake. He wouldn't pressure you to put a label on things, or even say you're "dating"- those would come on your own time.

Spencer was determined to make you believe in love again, and he would do everything in his power to make sure you knew without a doubt how he felt about you.

Spencer would often get to work before you to surprise you with coffee and a breakfast sandwich, or a donut on your desk in the mornings.

He would insist on having a date night at least once a week, even if the two of you were on a case, ordering room service or finding a local pizza restaurant way late at night was sufficient, as long as the two of you got to spend time together.

Spencer would be hesitant about PDA or really moving too quickly into being too affectionate, still, he would frequently hold your hand, squeezing it tight when he could tell you were stressed or upset- either by a case or by life in general, he just wanted to give you that extra reassurance that he was there for you.

Spencer would really put the work in, he'd exert more effort than you had ever seen from any past relationship into even the tiniest things.

Spencer wouldn't mind though, anything he could do to reassure you that he loves and cares about you, he would do it.

Every little act of love and gratitude would be worth it to him.

He would savor and cherish every hug, every shared glance, every peck on the forehead, on the cheek, on the lips.

It was all worth it to him, every second of it- all he wanted to do was make you smile, to make you fall in love again.

#spencer reid #spencer reid headcannons #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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eggyrocks · 2 days

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bruised part five -> my person

m.list

♪ now playing: remember by alex g ♪

Iwaizumi's certain he's being punished. Some kind of penance for a transgression in a past life.

Her arms are wrapped loosely around his neck, and his arms are hooked under her knees as he carries her towards their apartment on his back. And he can feel too much of her: her cheek resting against his shoulder, her fingers absentmindedly tapping against his chest, and the warmth of her breath on the skin of his neck.

It makes it harder to focus. It makes him want to forget about how it was Bokuto's shoulder she was resting on when he arrived to bring her home. And that's something he won't let himself forget.

And as if she can hear this thoughts and decides she wants to torment him, she squirms, nuzzling in closer to him, and whispering softly, "Haji," in his ear.

He swallows before he answers. She's the only one who calls him that. "What's up?" he asks, trying not to let his rising heartbeat or twisting nerves seep into his voice.

"This is like," she starts, and then pauses, blowing out a hot stream of air that lands right on Iwaizumi's neck and goes straight down to his gut, "fucking, the millionth time you've picked me up drunk."

"Yeah," he agrees with a chuckle. "Well, you're a sloppy drunk."

She offers up a hum in agreement. "You must really fucking love me to put up with me this much."

Iwaizumi thinks that his heart leaps up into his throat, for just a second. "Of course I do," he confirms. "You're my best friend, dumbass."

There's nothing she has to say in response. She turns her head to bury her face in the fabric of his shirt. The rest of their walk back is silent.

It's only a few more minutes before they arrive home. Iwaizumi doesn't let her down once they cross through their front door and he kicks off his shoes. He ignores the smug sort of look that (the somehow still awake) Kyotani tosses in his direction and brings her directly to her room.

He thinks that she's asleep by the time he deposits her on the edge of her bed, and he's ready to throw a blanket over her and slink back into his own room. But the second he places her down, a hand goes tight around his shirt, and she yanks Iwaizumi down to lie beside her. "Stay with me tonight," she says, not once opening her eyes as she lays her head down on his chest and wraps an arm around his middle. "Like when we were kids."

It's not anything like when they were kids. When they had sleepovers and she managed to convince them both that there were ghosts and demons lurking, and they needed to stay together for protection. Or when her parents would fight and she would sneak through his window, staying the night with him just so she wouldn't be alone.

It's not anything like that, Iwaizumi thinks, as he hesitantly settles back against her pillows, and places his arm over her shoulders. "At least take your shoes off," he mumbles.

Through the darkness of her room, he can almost see the way her legs shuffle and struggle to kick off her still tied shoes. But she does so without ever lifting her head away from his chest, flicking her ankles so her shoes soar across the room, landing in a spot they're almost certainly not supposed to be.

She sighs, content, and wiggles in place, like she's trying to settle in deeper to him. "Did you know," she starts, voice heavy with sleep and intoxication, "that you've always been my person?"

Iwaizumi looks up at the ceiling. Shadows from the light outside her window shift and reshape. "Whaddya mean?" he asks, barely a whisper. He wonders if she can hear his heart beat.

"I dunno," she mumbles. "You're just my person. Like, our lives are so intertwined. I dunno who I'd be without you. Like, if you disappeared from my life tomorrow, I dunno how much of me would be left. I'd be like, a new person, y'know?"

And there's no one she'd pick over you.

Iwaizumi breathes evenly and deliberately. There would've been a time in his life, and maybe it was pretty recently, that those words would've made his chest swell up with pride. Because of course he's her person. She's always been his. That's how it's always been. It's always been them.

But now, the words twist in his chest like a knife.

I don't think she'd have room for a romantic partner that's not you.

"Don't worry about that kind of thing," he says, turning on his side, facing her and pulling her into a tighter embrace. "I got you."

Her voice is muffled, so he almost doesn't hear it when she says, "I know."

Tonight, he can be selfish. Tonight, it can be just them. He can hold her in his arms and he can't pretend that things don't have to change. Tomorrow, he will make room. But tonight, it's just them.

an: enjoy this written part :) i loved to write it. also im still working on the 500 follower requests dont worry

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @publicbathroompanic @bedeater @rottingt1tz @rintarawr @deluluforcarlos55 @ahseyy @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @baskin-robinhoods @polish-cereal @iheartamora @ferntv @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @pinkiscool @hikikaimar @makkir0ll @cr4yolaas @k8nicole @cannibalsrider @bookworm-center @causenessus @frootloopscos @0moonii @ekeio @milkwithspicyicecubes @michivrse (please complete this form to be added, it is the only way to be added)

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yelenasdiary · 2 days

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Drabble for braiding yelenas hair?

Drabble || The Little Things

Pairing: Yelena Belova x GN! Reader

Summary: Yelena gets a call and has to go on a mission, but not before you've helped her get ready.

Fluff

Warnings: None. This is not proof-read or corrected! | 0.4K

Translations: detka (baby)

AC: Oh to be able to run my fingers through my little spicy Russian's hair 😍, thank you for sending this! I hope you enjoy! x

Yelena walked into the living room to see you already set up and ready for her. She had just gotten off the phone and was coming to tell you that she would be away for a few days. You always knew that if Yelena ever had to take a call out of the room it was most likely a job for her to do.

"Come sit" you smiled, "I've got everything ready" you added as Yelena walked towards you and sat on the floor with her back resting against the sofa. You grabbed the hair brush and began to softly brush through her short blonde locks.

"I'll only be gone a week" Yelena said, closing her eyes to relax as you ran the brush through her hair. This is one of her favourite things, having you braid her hair. She loved how soft and gentle you were, it gave her a peace of mind before we would have to go off and do what she'd been trained to do.

"It'll go by quickly" you assured her, "before you know it, you'll be back here just in time for our weekly face masks" you added with a chuckle.

"If anybody knew that you pampered me up like that, I'd be the core of every joke" Yelena replied, shaking her head.

"Keep your head still or you'll become the laughing stock of a different joke" you said, laughing. You grabbed the spray bottle and began to part the Russian's hair, "now, do you want it up or down?" you asked.

"Up please detka" Yelena replied, allowing herself to relax even more, throwing her head back a little more for you. You couldn't help but smile to yourself when you saw that her eyes were closed and she was at peace for the time being.

You began to part her hair and do sections at a time, twirling and twisting bit by bit, pining here and there all while Yelena enjoyed the little downtime she had left. She would chuckle every time you would apologise for 'hurting' her, you never hurt her but she thought it was adorable that you thought you did.

"Almost done my love" you said, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Already?" Yelena asked, a little disappointed that she would soon have to gather her other things.

"Oh crap!" you rolled your eyes, "I stuff up a little, looks like you'll have to sit still for a little longer baby, sorry!" you added with a playful wink when Yelena opened her eyes.

"That's a shame, I thought you were the perfectionist at this" Yelena chuckled.

If you want to be on the taglist for my work, please click HERE.

#yelenasdiary asks #ilovewandanat #fanfiction #yelena belova #marvel #Yelena Belova x reader

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tzthrowbacks · 6 hours

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Damn Z is right art is the biggest snake, its not solely b/c of that one scene but the way he uses his submissivness and his "niceness" his dullness to take advantage of those around him all so they can service his needs. Nah this man is mass manipulator, like how he uses his sick grandmother to convince patrick to throw the final ( obviously that changes when tashi comes into the picture) and then in atlanta we find out that tashi is engaged and wearing arts grandmas ring implying subtely that the he used his grandmothers death as a way to rush into an engagement with tashi. Nah art is a loser truly the worst. I dont think its simply that tashi can easily control art but that he uses submissiveness to his advantage to get what he wants. Patrick and tashi maybe more brash and in your face about things but art also knows how to play the same game of ruthlessness as tashi and patrick.

he was absolutely manipulative and to some extent a snake yeah, but the more i think about it, the less im convinced he was THE worst out of the three

i'd love to hear z thought process in details behind her VISCERAL hate toward art, more than the other two somehow😭 her reaction in that one interview cracked me up lmao

my opinions about them keep getting more nuanced as i'm reading other people's opinions, and i think it definitely depend on what you consider "worst" -from betrayal and adultery to manipulation and weaponized submissiveness (? pretty sure that's not even a concept but you get what i mean).-..but for now i'm just on team everybody is wrong in their own way, no one is better than the other

#spoilers

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thegnomelord · 1 day

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I already know what I wanna have tattooed and I'm hoping it doesn't go near any of my scars because I have sensitive skin especially in the scarred areas. It's supposed to be a tattoo dedicated to my father

Yeah I figured, it's just my asks tend to get kinda long because I vomit words where they don't belong (in someone's ask box instead of the many drafts I'm supposed to be posting)

Oh yeah that makes sense. I just remembered you mentioning how Hound was often put in a sort of ring to fight others and if he lost the winners got to do whatever they wanted to him, so I imagined like maybe someone SA'd Hound or whatnot and Makarov saw and thought it was a good idea (sorry if that was too like...unhinged ig?) cuz it would be a power imbalance thing.

Anyways, I'd like to join the cult but I think I'll stay out of the tank, I don't like water

- 🪒

Ooh that's cool! I always love it when ppl have like sentimental tattoos because all of mine will probably end up being bc I felt like it lol.

Lol do I know the feeling about that :D word vomit in my inbox is fine dude!

Nah like, SA definitely did happen to Hound, especially at the start when it was about breaking down his spirit and because he was so weak he couldn't fight back properly. I was just hesitant to say it out right bc I was still trying to figure out if I wanted to explore that topic in my writing and a bit worried if I could write it in a way that didn't sexualize or glorify rape.

After Hound broke was when the sexual aspect of their power dynamic began, before that Makarov didn't touch him mainly because he considered Hound so below him that it was disgusting for him.

Funny enough Hound getting thrown into the fight ring as Hound is worse than when it happened when he was a sergeant, bc Makarov has conditioned him to only crave his touch and anyone else touching him feels like acid on his skin. So atop the ache of displeasing Makarov enough to throw him into the pit, he's (in hound's mind) further disobeying Makarov by being so weak that others can touch him.

Also please don't join the cult, they're trying to awaken Cthulhu my fucking ex and I'd rather not see the fucker again

#gnome's tea break #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #good dog fic #hound-reader #🪒anon

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aspecpplarebeautiful · 2 days

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Hello! If you don't mind, this is half a vent and half an ask both to you and to your followers who have had some experience?

I feel like I want certain aspects of a romantic relationship, the idea of having someone "special" is very appealing. Especially since I find myself falling in the trap of romance tropes, and I really do feel that I want to find that one person who I'd feel safe being physically close with, and not just because I turn my brain off to suffer through it but to actually enjoy it.

I know that I'm rather attracted to men, in theory at least, but whenever there's even remotely a thought in my brain that a polite conversation may turn into something more I get nervous, kinda in a bad way. I feel like I want to put a barrier in and I'm afraid they'll be reading into my behaviour too much. It makes me feel as if I like to play pretend in my head but I'm too much of a coward when real life gets involved.

I've been identifying as ace for years now, and I just turned 24. No experience in the dating department, I've been slowly making my way to accepting being at least arospec as well, possibly just aro, but for some reason it's been so much harder for me. Asexuality just clicked. This I think I may be fighting because the idea of a relationship seems too nice to give up and I've already had a bad experience with an extremely undernegotiated QPR (ended quickly but left a bitter taste nevertheless).

I just wish I could not think about it? But I also feel like the societal expectations of romantic attraction are much more pressing than sexual one. I don't want to lead anyone on, and I don't want to feel this little bit of dread whenever I have a conversation with a guy who I know doesn't have a girlfriend. That's another sign of being aro, right? Being able to be comfortable only when the possibility of the other party wanting you romantically is non-existent.

Sorry for this being so long. Thank you for listening, either way.

Romance definitely has a hard to explain quality to it, and I think that can make it questioning if you're aro especially tricky. It is possible that anxiety you're feeling when a situation could turn romantic is a form of repulsion. It's not uncommon for romance repulsion to feel more like anxiety or nervousness, and for people feel like wanting to go and hide. Alloromantic people can be nervous too sometimes, but it usually comes with a feeling of anticipation and still being drawn to the other person. Or they will usually have either trouble with anxiety in other areas, or issues with romance (romance related trauma for example). Sometimes it can be tricky to know exactly what it is, but if the stuff below doesn't sound like you at all, than repulsion is a likely explanation.

The other thing I would point is that fully alloromantic people often have people in real life they are experience a romantic pull towards, who they really want to be in a romantic relationship with. And if you're not experiencing that, that could also be a strong sign of being aromantic.

Being aromantic, and even romance repulsed, if you are, does not mean you can't have a very important person in your life. I know you mentioned a QPR that didn't go well, and it's up to you if that's something you ever want to try again, but even if you don't. remember that deep bonds can come in all forms of relationships. All types of relationships, including friendships, familial relationships, etc. have the potential to be very special of very deep if you end up connecting to someone in the right way. So whatever path you choose to take, don't feel like this isn't possible.

I'll throw this out followers too if anyone wants to share their own thoughts or advice.

All the best, Anon! Good luck!

#vent post

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winniemaywebber · 2 days

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It's Been A Long, Long Time • Part 2

💕 Jean 💕

warnings: 18+, oral (f receiving), mention of sexual intercourse.

taglist: @sagesolsticewrites @ginabaker1666 @agir1ukn0w @precious-little-scoundrel

Putting the finishing touches to your famous cherry pie, you remove your apron and walk into the living room, trying your best to swipe flour off your dress as you enter.

“Pie is done, Binger,” you say quietly so as not to wake the baby in his arms. Yours and Harry's son had taken to mixing up his days and nights. Not a wink of sleep from midnight - what Bing liked to call his witching hour - until at least 5am. It had started to take its toll on the pair of you, the both of you sleeping in shifts for the most of a fortnight. You missed your husband dearly, despite being back in the same house. There was just something about savoring his arms around you, his nose snuffling into your neck as he slept, the comfort you'd been craving for years. You knew it was hard for him too: waking alone from a horrific nightmare, your soft hands not there to soothe him back to sleep and reassure him he's home and safe.

Placing the baby in his bassinet, Harry gets up from the couch and stretches, yawning heavily before walking into the kitchen.

“It looks wonderful, my love. He'll love it.”

“Are you sure?” you question, eyebrow raised a little. “You're sure he said that was his favorite?”

“Yes, Mrs Crosby,” he laughs, kissing your forehead. “I like to think I'd remember these little things about my friends. Don't worry yourself so.” He pulls you into his arms and strokes your back, his nose falling into the crook of your neck. You feel yourself purr into him at the sensation of him tickling and kissing your neck, gasping a little.

“He's asleep,” your husband murmurs. “Come to bed with me, darling.”

“But Rosie will be here any moment and…ahhh–” You can barely piece the rest of your thought together because of Harry putting his mouth on yours, his tongue entering soon after.

“Fine, we won't go to bed,” he murmurs, pushing you against the counter. “Here is more than fine.” With that, his strong, pretty hands are lifting up the skirt of your dress and gripping your legs, lifting you slightly to get you to sit on the counter.

“Harry…” you groan as you watch him kneel down in front of you, pulling your underwear to the side.

“What, my little wife? Do you want me to stop?” he questions, those brown, puppy dog eyes looking up at you as he begins to plant soft kisses on your the inside of your thighs, getting closer to your core with each one.

“N-no,” you finally stutter out. “It-its just…oh, my gosh.” You're cut off by your husband's tongue taking you apart in seconds. He pulls away, gently pushing a finger inside you.

"It's just what, darling? Tell me. Tell your Bing just what it is.”

You can't seem to formulate words due to the pleasure fogging your brain, so you just shake your head, breath ragged.

“That's what I thought,” he murmurs, returning his face to in between your legs, throwing your leg over his shoulder. “Now, let me make my wife feel good.”

You're a mess, moments later, Bing mumbling filthy praise as you writhe in front of him. “Wow…you needed that, huh?” He stands up, wiping his mouth and kissing you, you moaning at the taste of yourself on his tongue.

“Mhm,” you reply, your mouth still on his. “I always need you.”

“Good,” he grins. He plants a sweet kiss on your nose, winking at you. “We'd better go clean up.”

---

It's just as Harry's spitting toothpaste into the sink that you hear the doorbell ring. You both look at each other, wincing and waiting for the inevitable screech that strangely, doesn't come. You take a final look at yourself in the bathroom mirror before running to the door, Harry following close behind you, his hands squeezing your butt as you turn away.

“Hey!” you squeal, playfully swatting at him. He chuckles, pulling you towards him again for a quick kiss.

The doorbell rings again, and Harry goes to open the door. “Here he is!” he shouts, pulling his friend into a hug. “Robbie Rosenthal!”

“Croz, how are ya?” he responds, slapping him on the back. He makes eye contact with you stood behind the pair of them, giving them time to greet one another after so long.

“Jeez, Croz,” He pulls away, smiling at you. “Wonderful to see ya. And this must be the Mrs Jean Crosby.”

“Hi, Rosie. A pleasure, finally!” You go to shake his hand, but he pulls you into a huge bear hug.

“So, so, good to finally meet you.”

He follows you and Harry into the house, placing his bag by the door.

“How was your journey, bud?” Harry asks, placing a cold beer in front of him.

“Ah, not so bad,” he responds, taking a sip. “Jo says she's sorry she couldn't be here.” With that, he glances over at you, and you share a sad glance.

“Oh, my sweet Jo,” you respond wistfully. Jo had been part of the team of ladies keeping you upright in many ways during the time Harry was away. She was always there with a listening ear, a kind heart and a shoulder to cry on when things got especially tough. Because of that, she is now one of your most treasured friends, and holds such a special place in your heart. “I miss her terribly. How is she? Of course, we write weekly but it's not the same as being around her.”

“I know, Jean. She's doing great, beautiful as ever. We've been fixing up a little house to move into after we're married. You guys are gonna come, right?”

“You think we'd miss that, Rose? Come on, man, you know me better than that!” The men laugh, clinking beer bottles as you're pulling vanilla ice cream from the freezer to serve with the pie when a soft cry pours through from the living room into the kitchen. You nod apologetically towards the men and go retrieve the baby.

“Hi, sunshine,” you murmur, picking him up. “That was a good nap, huh? Good boy, I'm sure you feel much better now. Guess who's here?” You lay him down on the changing mat to change his diaper, cooing all the while. “That's right, my boy! Uncle Rosie. Uncle Rosie's here to see you!”

You feel the presence of someone in the doorway, and look up to see Harry, his arms crossed, smiling at you and the baby.

“What, darling?” You say, buttoning the baby's romper.

“That never gets old, sweetheart. You and him, me being here to see it. I love it.” He walks over and takes the baby from you, kissing his chubby cheeks before kissing yours. “I love you, Mrs Crosby.”

“I love you more, Bing.”

Rosie gasps as Croz brings the baby into the kitchen, his eyes lighting up and softening at the same time. He stands up, the chair squeaking on the kitchen floor as he reaches his hands out, holding the baby to his body.

“Hi, buddy!” He chirps, smiling down at him. “How's it goin’? Huh? You running mom and dad ragged? Yeah? That's what I thought, little guy. Good job!” He carries on like this, rambling in a voice that's several octaves higher than you just heard, the baby gurgling in response.

“Oh, you guys,” he says, back to his normal husky tone, his eyes shining. “He's beautiful.”

---

The rest of the day passes quickly, both men rushing around you and switching the baby between them, so you can sit down and rest. Thankful for the extra pair of hands, you take the opportunity to take a long, hot bath and relax, your Bing coming in for just a moment to sit on the edge of the tub, telling you a story from their time in England that he'd just remembered thanks to Rosie and that he just had to tell you immediately, all while rubbing lavender soap into your legs.

While you're getting ready for bed, you reread Jo's latest letter, which you plan to reply to in the morning.

Darling Jean,

How are you? Good, I hope. I'm so sorry to read that the little guy isn't sleeping well. I imagine that can be so exhausting.

I'm glad Robbie will be there in a few days. That extra pair of hands around so you can relax will be welcome, I'm sure. I'm just so sorry I cannot be there too, to be with you while the boys share their anecdotes. While our men may have lost so much in the years they were away from us, I'm glad it gave us something: each other. You are one of my dearest friends and I am forever glad and grateful that your Harry and my Robert became friends, thus putting us together. I wouldn't know how to live without you now.

Back to not being able to join Robbie on this trip: tell him to hurry up and marry me so I'm able to come see you and the baby. Start dropping hints now, lady! I'm dying to see you and my beloved nephew.

Goodbye for now, my dear. All my love, always.

Your friend,

You smile, placing the letter back on your nightstand, sniffling a little. She is right; the men losing so much, yet you both gaining this friendship is bittersweet. Her being there for you when Harry came home on leave, your nerves wrecked after not seeing your husband for years. She was one of the first people you told when you found out you were pregnant, both of you weeping with joy and hugging. Wiping your present tears away, you run downstairs to take the baby so that Bing can take the first sleep shift.

“Harry, darling,” you coo. “You'd better sleep if you want to take Rosie golfing tomorrow morning!”

“Oh, thanks, honey,” he says, clumsily standing from the couch so as not to disturb the dozing baby in his arms. “Here ya go, buddy,” he says, placing the baby in your waiting arms. “Go to mama. Goodnight, my son.” He kisses him on the head, then it's your turn, placing a deep kiss on your mouth.

“Hold on, you guys,” Rosie starts, placing his whiskey glass on the table in front of him. “You aren't going to bed together?”

“We can't right now, Rosie,” you say, sadly. “Little guy here wakes at all hours, so we take it in turns right now.”

“I'm not having that!” he says, shocked. “Go to bed together, I'm here for a reason. Uncle Rosie and his new best buddy can have a few hours to get to know one another a bit better. You've got jazz, a record player and I've got arms that aren't exhausted to be able to hold him all hours.”

“Are you sure, bud?” Harry says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“Yes, Croz. Go curl up with your wife. I'll be here.”

“Thanks, doll,” you say, a grateful smile on your face. “Come wake us if there's any trouble, okay?” You place the dozing baby in his bassinet next to the armchair Rosie is sitting in, and gently pat his shoulder in thanks.

“I wouldn't dream of it. Goodnight, you two!”

---

You and Harry ascend the stairs together, breathing a sigh of grateful relief. Pulling his shirt off, your Bing walks towards you, his hands finding their way up your night dress. “How's about we pick up where we left off earlier?” he winks, his hands getting further up your bare skin.

“Hmm, yes please.”

“Good,” he murmurs, kissing you deeply. “Just be quiet, Mrs Crosby. We don't want the cops called on us.”

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fic #mota fic #croz x jean #croz x rosie #it's been a long long time #mota smut #winnie writes

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