#pls pay attention to me i spent way too long on this

[yunhoszn]

horses are still overrated

pairing jeong yunho x f!reader word count 2k genres fluff﹒smut warnings 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, established relationship, mentions of voyeurism, dirty talk, marking-ish, mutual masturbation, kissing, slight cum eating shhhhh don’t say anything, pet names: baby, babe, princess

summary new relationships always have room for experimenting, and well, you and yunho are no exception.

more ok so i tried doing these in ask format but i didn’t like it so we’re back to our regularly scheduled programming with a little update :P anyway,, this was for this request! it’s meant to be an extension of save a horse, ride a cowboy but can totally be read as a standalone! i kinda strayed from the initial req, but i hope this is still good… it’s still yunho day so <3 ALSO @bro-atz thank u for betaing my love i appreciate u so big!! pls reblog if u enjoyed!

@atzhouse

The few weeks that have passed since you and Yunho have confessed to each other have been nothing short of blissful. 

He makes you feel like you’re soaring, ensuring that your happiness is the top priority. He embraces you in a way that’s not only physical, but emotional too. Like his feelings for you are their own special hug of warmth that envelopes you when you need it most. You could never get tired of him, could never return to your life back home like this summer never happened. 

Because in all honesty, this summer was the best thing that could’ve ever happened to you. 

You have a small smile on your face as you reminisce about the wonderful time you’ve spent here so far, leaning back into the bench on the farmhouse porch. Initially, you were sitting here to openly gawk after Yunho as he rounded up the cattle, but now you were too giddy to pay attention to that. You don’t notice him walking towards you directly, Yeoreum tailing behind him. 

“What’s got you so cheesy today?” 

You blink at his question, feeling a bit bashful. You’ll never get used to this view. “I was just thinking about us, and how happy you make me.”

“That’s cute,” he mirrors your expression, one hand on the back of the bench to hold his weight and the other coming up to cup your jaw, lips pecking yours gently. “Ready for dinner?”

“I have a confession to make,” you start as you’re washing the dishes after dinner. 

“What’s up?” Yunho asks you from the other side of the kitchen, putting away the leftovers. He shuts the refrigerator and leans against it, arms crossed over his chest. You swallow thickly. 

“I’ve just had this on my chest for so long and I need to get it off before I explode,” you ramble, avoiding his eyes as you scrub a plate. “Promise you won’t judge?”

“I promise,” he chuckles, and you can hear his footsteps as he gets closer. “I won’t judge you.”

Your sigh comes out as more of a shudder, Yunho’s arms wrapping around your middle and his chin resting on your shoulder. The new proximity makes you ten times more nervous to say your piece, your heart beating erratically behind your rib cage. This is fine. This is great actually. (No it’s not!)

“Do— um— do you remember the day before Seojun and I broke up?” Your hands are trembling slightly. 

“When you gave Yeoreum a bath, right?” He nods, the movement bothering you slightly because it has his chin digging into your shoulder uncomfortably. “What about it?”

”So…” You have to pause the dishes, your hands clamming up so much that you think the handle of your sponge will fly out of your grasp. “That night, when my lightbulb went out, I actually went out to go grab you. But— uh— I saw something… else… instead…”

Your eyes squeeze shut, entirely too mortified to even think about what his reaction could be. It’s been a minute since the ordeal played out, so really you didn’t have to say anything. Part of you felt like you couldn’t continue this relationship in good conscience without being totally honest, though. 

Strong hands wrap gently around your wrists, turning you around to face him. He tsks, “Open your eyes, princess.”

His eyes are soft, no hint of disappointment or disgust on his features as he stares back at you. His lips curl into a smug smile after a couple seconds, cupping your jaw and caressing your cheek with his thumb. You blink at him, a little confused by the shift in atmosphere, but not complaining. 

“You’re not—?” 

“You watched me fuck my fist, is that right?” Yunho asks so bluntly, so vulgarly. “Tell me, what did you do after that?”

It’s easy to divert your gaze again, focusing on how interesting the material of his button up suddenly is. It’s one thing to admit that you stood there and watched for a bit, it’s another to admit you stuffed yourself with your own fingers not even fifteen minutes later. But you think he already knows that, based on your behavior and some good ol’ context clues. 

“I… I touched myself,” you whimper, ashamed of how you’re getting turned on. The worst part is the fact that he’s enjoying this. He’s enjoying the way he has you folding for him so quickly. “To the thought of you…”

Yunho’s grip on your chin tightens and his eyes flutter shut with a groan. “Fuck, baby, that’s so hot…”

You weren’t sure how this would go, and a piece of you genuinely thought he might even end things with you. Any other person would think you were sick and perverted, but not him. It makes you feel a lot better and a lot more secure in your relationship. 

Your tongue pokes out of the corner of your mouth, grazing the pad of his thumb. He hisses, cursing under his breath, letting you wrap your lips around and suck the finger. Yunho stares with not a single coherent thought behind his eyes. He’s losing his composure, pressing his thumb down on your tongue. 

“Do you think you can tell me? How exactly did you touch yourself?” He purses his lips, his free hand slipping into the opening of your overalls, dragging his finger along the exposed skin of your waist. You shake your head with a whine.

”Yun… That’s embarrassing…” 

He pulls his hand out of your overalls, hooking the digit into your belt loop and yanking you closer. His mouth is dangerously near your own, lips brushing yours when he speaks. “I wanna know. Need to picture my pretty princess fucking herself desperately ‘cause her fingers aren’t enough to get her off.”

Your legs feel like jelly, your cunt clenching around nothing just by his words alone. Yunho had always done such a good job at being the sweet and doting partner everyone wanted. He was attentive, praised you like you were a living, breathing goddess. But this dirty side of him is different. And you like it a lot more than you should.

“O-Okay…” You swallow thickly, and suddenly he’s spinning you so his chest is to your back. He urges you towards the bedroom, attaching his lips to your neck and sucking the supple skin gently, tenderly.

”Go on,” he says between kisses, still pushing you until you’re standing in the middle of his room. Your eyes already feel heavy and you haven’t done anything yet. “Tell me.”

”I— um— I thought about your hands and how big they are,” your tone is shaky, and you hope you don’t sound stupid. “Thought about how good it would feel to have them all over me. I pictured that it was your fingers inside of me. Imagined your cock, and how big it is.”

“Is that so? I’m just not getting the visual, babe. I think I need you to show me.” He hums, a hint of amusement in his voice. As if this couldn’t get more embarrassing, now he wants you to finger yourself in front of him? You’re about to protest, but he’s pressing your lower back to the mattress and talking against the corner of your mouth again, teasing you because he knows he can. “If you’re good for me, I’ll fuck you so well, you won’t be able to forget the shape of my cock.”

You nod with a whimper, hopping onto the bed and scooting all the way up to the pillows. Your hands are wobbly as you undress yourself, unbuckling your overalls and kicking them off your feet. Of course you chose the worst day to dress the part. Yunho sits at the edge, watching you with an unreadable expression. 

When you’re in nothing but your top and panties, he clears his throat, leaning back onto his palms. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Move your underwear to the side for me, princess. Let me see your pretty pussy.”

It’s almost impossible to hold back a moan, following his instructions. You glide your middle finger through your folds, showcasing how you’re practically dripping for him in the amount of time it’s taken you to get from the kitchen to here. He exhales through his nose, legs spreading to give you a glimpse of an uncomfortable looking bulge in his pants. 

You sigh deeply at the sight, circling your finger around your clit slowly. The thought of being the cause behind it, of getting Yunho so hot and bothered, drives you crazy and has you curling your toes. 

“Just like that,” he encourages, tossing his denim button up to the floor. He palms over his erection, tilting his head slightly. “Can you do some more for me?”

“Mhm,” is all you can manage to force out, doing what he asked. You shove your ring and middle fingers inside of yourself, finally releasing a moan at the intrusion. You keep pressure on your clit with the heel of your palm. There’s silence between you save for the occasional whine.

Yunho shivers, shimmying out of his pants so he can stroke himself freely. You gawk at him with bated breath, biting your lip as your fingers pick up their pace. There’s a knot that settles in the pit of your stomach, tightening and tightening in preparation for that special moment. 

The view of him spread out in front of you, fucking up into his hand with hooded eyes trained on your own playing with your cunt, is too much. He’s wearing that same godforsaken white tank top as he was the night you saw him, the muscles in his forearm and bicep flexing with each twist of his wrist, each pump of his cock. 

You feel like you’re drooling, ogling at him like he was a piece of meat. But you couldn’t help it. Yunho was the most attractive man you’d ever laid eyes on. The longer you stare, the further you fall. That’s a conclusion you’ve come to a little too late. 

“‘M close, Yun,” you moan, arching your back off of the pillows, head almost clunking against the headboard. “Wanna cum with you.”

“I’m almost there, too, baby,” he grunts, teeth gritted as he runs his thumb over his slit. That has a loud whine spilling from your lips, your feet digging into the mattress. You don’t know how much longer you can last. 

Your fingers try to reach that spongy, sensitive spot deep in your cunt, but you can’t. It seems that only Yunho’s long, thick fingers could accomplish that feat. No wonder you were so obsessed with his hands.

You opt for using the fingers of your free hand to swipe quickly at your clit while the others curl and thrust into you, inching you toward that steep cliff that has stars decorating your vision. Judging by the volume of his sounds getting higher and higher, you can tell Yunho’s right there with you. 

One particular absentminded curse from him has your brain short circuiting, that promise of release washing over you almost violently. Your body aches and quivers, orgasming harder than you ever had just with your own hand. (You’d like to think the presence of a certain cowboy had everything to do with it.)

He groans and follows behind shortly after, painting his hand in milky white. The two of you try to catch your breaths, laying there for a couple moments to recuperate. After a while, Yunho leans over to kiss you gently, squeezing your cheeks with his cum covered hand. You scrunch your nose. 

“You’re getting it on my face!”

“That was the goal,” he laughs, pressing another sweet kiss to your lips. You roll your eyes, licking away whatever was near your mouth. He groans again. “Fuck, are you trying to kill me? Purposely?”

“Maybe,” you shrug. “I remember being told you’d fuck me if I did good for you. Where’s my reward?”

“Trust me, I didn’t forget.”

© yunhoszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

#atzhouse #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez jeong yunho #ateez yunho #ateez yunho x reader #ateez yunho smut #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho smut #yunho x reader #yunho smut #yunhoszn #📮 — reqs

[coryosbaby]

Pls write more Hoffman stuff T-T I’ve been reading it repeatedly for the past couple of days along with your Adam stuff. I’m gnawing at the iron bars of my enclosure. I love your writing <3

𝒞𝑜𝒸𝓀𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝑀𝒶𝓇𝓀 + 𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒽𝓂 ♡

Cw: nsfw . Slight dubcon towards the end, cockwarming, p n v, exhibitionism, daddy kink, age gap, threeway, creampie

A/N: u ask u shall receive 🙏🏻 this is Hoffman & strahm + maybe a lil hint of Daniel Rigg but I’ll be writing more of just Hoffman soon if that’s what u prefer 🩷

The days spent in Mark’s office can either be incredibly boring and painful, or incredibly fun and painful.

And on this day, as his hard cock slides itself inside of you, you decide it’s going to be a fun but painful day— quivering, you let out a small whine as he fills you up in his desk chair. His cock, thick and long, is causing an ache and burn in your core. But how could you care when you’ve been wet for him all day?

Mark is barely paying mind to you; being a detective means having a lot of paperwork, and that he must finish today. But that doesn’t mean he can’t squeeze in a little time for you, right?

“Daddy..” you mumble, adjusting the ends of your skirt. He had just slid right in, with absolutely no warning at all! He was so mean sometimes. Batting your eyelashes, trying to get him to look at you, you add, “Cmon, why do you just fuck me?”

“Quiet.” He grunts. He’s flipping through a page from a case file. Although it’s confidential, he never minds letting you see the cases he works on. You’ve kept worser secrets for him, after all. “Keep yourself occupied, why don’t you?”

Oh, that’s rich coming from the man holding you down on his dick. You pout, crossing your arms across your chest. You purposely squirm on his lap, then. He exhales sharply, as you clench your walls on him.

And just then, a knock sounds.

Your face becomes bright red, and you’re quick to try and get off of Mark’s lap. But he tsks, holding you down with both hands and keeping you in place. Your eyes widen in fear.

“Come in,” Mark states.

And of course, the person who opens the door is Peter Strahm— someone you’ve grown to dislike since you heard him whisper something about the “young piece of ass” Hoffman had laying around in his office every day. You were quite offended by that statement, even though Peter has grown to be— in your opinion— too nice to you.

“Hoffman,” he says, trying to avert his gaze from your flushed face. You pray that he can’t see Mark’s unbuttoned pants and your pussy wrapped around him. “I need to talk to you… alone.”

Mark rolls his eyes, pushing his hips up. Letting out a tiny gasp, you can feel his cock sliding against your walls— and with shame, you try not to pay attention to the way your cunt gets slicker at the thought of Peter catching you being such a whore.

“You can say it here, Strahm.” He pats your hip, ruffling your skirt. “I can assure you, her pretty little head is empty right now.”

You should be offended, but really, you can’t think. Peter’s sleeves are rolled up today, his arms and hands exposed and— fuck, why do you want them to touch you?

“It’s about the Jigsaw case,” Strahm presses. His eyes land on yours again, and he watches the expanse of your legs. Your face flushes furiously, and you feel a drop of slick begin to run down your inner thigh.

Shit.

“And?” Mark teases. “It doesn’t matter to her. What is it?”

“It’s..”

Peter’s eyes are on your tits, your thighs quivering. You bite your lower lip, and you can’t help but let a fuzzy feeling take over you as he watches you.

“Cat got your tongue, Strahm?”

Mark smirks, and when he grabs your hips and pushes you further down on him, you can’t help it— you let out a moan, a desperate and sex crazed moan.

Peter doesn’t even know what to do or say— just stands there, his mouth open and a tent forming in his jeans. Mark continues to bounce you up and down on him.

“No—“ you whimper. “Mark! Peter, ‘m so sorry—“

“Fuck..” Peter whispers.

“You want a piece of her?” Mark chuckles, lifting up your skirt. Your cunt is exposed, all creamy and wet, little clit throbbing. You begin to rock your hips back onto your boyfriends hard length. “She wants you to fuck her. Don’t you, angel?”

You can’t help but nod, watching as Peters hand goes down to palm his crotch. He looks at you with a hungry stare.

Mark lifts you up with his strong arms, getting out of the chair and dragging you to the front of his desk. He slips out of you, pushing your body down onto the hardwood. Your cheek presses against a stack of papers as Mark spreads your legs with one of his feet. He lifts up your skirt, revealing your aching cunt for Peter to see.

“Cmon, Strahm,” Mark urges. “Don’t you wanna fuck her pussy? She’s so tight, so warm…”

And fuck, as wrong as it is Strahm is practically hypnotized by the sight of your gaping hole clenching around nothing. It needs something to fill it so bad, he thinks.

Fuck it. He stalks over, gives Mark a little shove to get out of his way. He unbuckles his belt. Mark begins stroking his cock at the sight of your doe eyes looking up at him. Peter pulls his throbbing length out of his pants, and rubs it up against you. You feel like heaven— and when he pushes into your hole, presses his balls firm against your ass, his eyes almost roll back into his head. It’s been a while since he’s fucked such a young, tight pussy.

“Oh—“

You whine as he pulls out and pushes right back in, incredibly hard. His skin smacks against yours as he begins to pound you against the desk.

Mark, chuckling, pats your cheek with his palm.

“That’s my girl.”

He’s stroking his cock over your face now, and Peter groans and spreads your asscheeks apart to get a better view of you.

“Been keepin’ this sweet thing from me all this time, Hoffman?”

His differences with the other man seemed to be forgotten because of your warm, wet cunt.

“Would’ve let you fuck her sooner if you weren’t such a prick.” Mark replies, and grunts when the tip of his cock hits your lips. “Don’t cum inside her. That’s something only I can do.”

Strahm huffs, displeased, but doesn’t say anything. He listens to your whimpers and moans. His mouth begins running, spewing harsh words to you as his cock moves in and out of your slick folds.

“Such a slutty little girl.”

“God, baby, are all the men you fuck always twice your age?”

“Knew you were a filthy whore the moment I saw you walk into big man’s office. Shit, yeah, clench like that again, bitch.”

Although Mark should be angry at these remarks, he knows it’s just a way to break you down on Strahm’s cock. He knows that you love being degraded and used.

It’s not long before Mark’s length fills your mouth, and as you swallow him down your throat Peter begins to rub your clit in harsh circles. Choking on Mark’s cock and squeezing your walls around Peter, your orgasm washes over you in harsh waves. You spasm against the both of them, your release dripping onto Peter’s thighs.

Peter is close, too, and he can feel it. Pulling himself out of you is probably the hardest thing he’s ever forced himself to do— and this even includes when he had to stick a metal straw in his neck because he almost drowned to death. He rubs himself against your lower back, letting out a small, “fuck yes, baby, such a good whore for daddy,” As he spills thick ropes all over the tramp stamp adorning your skin. He relaxes against you for a moment, then pulls away and tucks himself back into his pants. He nods at mark, then murmurs a small, “thanks, honey.” To you as he approaches the door and makes his way out. Mark pulls himself out of your mouth and makes his way over to your quivering form.

“Okay?” He murmurs softly.

You nod, head empty and hole clenching as Mark lines himself up. Much thicker than Strahm, he adds a harsh sting to the mix of your overstimulated cunt once again. He thrusts in and out of you at a harsh pace, his cock practically ripping you in half as it pummels your guts. You can feel that neediness coming back, that urge to cream all over a cock again.

“Yes, daddy,” you mewl. “Please. Please, I need it..”

“Yeah?” He says harshly. His fingers dip into your hips, watching the puddle of cum forming at the base of your lower back. “What if I called the whole office in here, huh? Two cocks not enough for this greedy cunt? Maybe you need to be smothered by another detectives pussy. Maybe you need another fat cock to split you in half…”

And Jesus, Mark’s filthy fucking mouth has you squirming and aching for another orgasm. He grabs your throat with one of his strong hands, bending your body back towards him. Strahm’s spend leaks down in between your ass cheeks and smears all over Mark’s lower stomach, leaving white strings stuck between your body and his, but he doesn’t care. Chasing his release, the mess adds to the amount of pleasure coursing through him.

Your fingers move up to hold onto his hand, as a way to loosen his grip. But you know he won’t let up— once Mark is set on a brutal pace with you, he always has to have his hands around your neck. His cock is bruising, kissing your cervix in just the right way and —

Oh.

Your eyes now, have averted to the office window. A breath of air leaves you as you realize that the blinds, ever always closed, are now open.

You try to get Mark’s attention— try to find a way to get him to let up so the window can be covered again. Thankfully, no one has walked by. It’s an empty hallway. But anyone could be willing…

“Mark,” you wheeze. His eyes flit to where you’re eyes are focused. To your surprise, the man doesn’t stop fucking you— in fact, his thrusts only seem to increase. His smell evades your senses, all cologne and herbal soap and laundry detergent, and you feel fucking dizzy.

And then, a shadow crosses that hallway. A familiar figure, with a stack of papers in his hands.

Daniel Rigg.

There, walking right across the office window. Noticing movement out of the corner of his eye, his body freezes midway, and he turns to look at the both of you.

Eyes filling with tears , you can’t do anything but take Mark’s cock and watch the man. And slowly, you recounted that you hadn’t seen Strahm when he had left the room— hadn’t seen him pull on the string of the blinds. Hadn’t seen Mark’s small smirk when he saw them being opened.

“Looks like we have an audience.” Mark teases.

You notice the tent forming in Detective Rigg’s pants, and your eyes flit down. He begins to stutter on his movements, and the papers in his hand drop to the ground. He shuffles, quickly picking them back up. And, with embarrassment and an urge to stroke his now hard cock, he begins to walk, fast, away from the scene.

Those motherfuckers.

© 2023 bratty-lxndry444 🤏🏻 all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, repost, or claim as yours !!!

#mark hoffman #Peter strahm #mark hoffman x reader #Peter strahm x reader #mark hoffman x fem! reader #Peter strahm x fem! reader #mark hoffman x reader x peter strahm #mark hoffman smut #Peter strahm smut #costas mandylor #saw #saw 2004 #saw franchise #saw x #saw fanfic #mark saw #Peter saw

[junicult]

So... don't know if you have this in the works after your last post, but what would it be like with the bachelors going down on reader for the first time? If you're comfortable with it, that is. 👀

!! the bachelors going down on you for the first time

contains ; soooo much smut. i got so carried away mb y’all LOL. nsfw (minors pls dni.) fem!farmer. oral (f!receiving). praise. established & unestablished relationships. fwb!shane. sexual guiding. inexperienced!sebastian. implied height difference in alex’s.

harvey.

- haha.

- i love this man.

- he is so (i cannot stress this enough) so affectionate.

- absolutely infatuated with you and everything you do.

- as a doctor, he has a lot of people he spends time thinking about: but you are somehow always the main thing on his mind.

- like, tell this man that you did something so minor like stubbed your toe, and he’s carrying you around, forcing you bedridden so he can take care of you.

- well, maybe not to that extent but you get it. you’re the most important thing to him.

- so it’s no surprise that translates to sex as well.

- he only cares about your pleasure, and how you’re feeling.

- before you had sex, he was a nervous mess.

- he wanted it to be perfect :,)

- he didn’t wanna plan it ahead, just kinda hoped it’d all come naturally but surprise he spent the entirety of the day thinking about it.

- it was just supposed to be a fancy dinner date, yet he managed to find you underneath him in his neatly made bed, lips already swollen from his doing.

- “have i told you you’re the most gorgeous woman i’ve ever seen?” it’s corny, cheesy, but oh-so true.

- his fingertips feeling your thighs up your dress, burning into your skin.

- like i said, he’s been thinking about how this night would play out for days. he wants it to be perfect.

- what other way for it to be perfect then him going down on you?

- i’m just saying, harvey on his knees, wide, soft eyes looking up and you while his lips press against your thighs and his cheek rests against your knee.

- his fingers reaching up to slide underneath the waistband of your underwear, doing nothing but tug slightly.

- 😇

- “may i? please?” he nearly whispers.

- and the moment you nod, his lips turn into a soft smile like he’s been waiting forever for that simple gesture.

- he wants you to watch him comfortably, so he props a couple pillows against the headboard so you can look at him.

- loves when you get flustered and tries to hide your face.

- he pays so much attention to your clit. knows how stimulating it is, and especially when he sucks it just right and your hips twitch a little.

- deffffffinitely moans into your pussy 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

- & ruts against the bed lollllll

- uses his fingers too. he’s so slow, and careful, all the while his movements still make your head spin.

- “please don’t stop, ‘m so close,” you whine, eyebrows pinching, and you hardly even realize your fingers that ravel and tug on his soft brown hair.

- he’s shaking his head, as in a silent way to tell you “fuck, i’ll never stop,” as long as he can hear you moan like that longer.

- he’s SOOO EAGER.

- wraps one of his hands around yours while the other lightly presses into your stomach to keep you still.

- doesn’t even care that u nearly suffocate him when your thighs wrap around his head—if anything, he’s in heaven.

- can’t take his eyes off of u. he might just die from the sight of you alone.

- he has to catch his breath when you finally collapse, head lulling to the side.

- he’s literally so hard it hurts.

- pressing into your thigh when he comes up to kiss you make out with you.

- “y’taste so good, don’t you think? so sweet, can’t get enough.” “you’ll let me get some more, right? please? want you, need you so bad.”

sam.

- he’s blunt.

- just straight up.

- he’ll nonchalantly tell you if you have something in your teeth, and then pick it out for you.

- he’s the type to give you genuine input if you tried on a new outfit.

- like, “that looks amazing on you. turn around?” or “hm, it’d look better if it didn’t bunch up like that in the front.”

- zero shame. you know he’s not doing it to be rude, that’s just how he is.

- so, if he’s just lounging around at your house while you work, occasionally popping up to help you with easier tasks, expect him to be his same old self.

- and maybe even take you by surprise.

- you walk in during the evening, ready to change from your clothes and bathe after a long day.

- “hi baby,” he’s already smiling, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek and his hands wrapping around your waist.

- he doesn’t know what it is, maybe it’s the way your eyes were slightly lowered from tiredness, or the subtle earthy scent wafting off your body—but it made him much more excited to have you in his arms.

- “you always look so pretty when you finish work.” he sighs, his kisses pressing down the other side of your neck.

- “i do? please,” you snort, shaking your head to dismiss him like you always do.

- but this time, he wanted you to know for a fact just how gorgeous you are.

- “why do you never believe me when i compliment you?” he pouts, leaning to bury his face in your neck.

- it’s the way his soft gaze has your heart thumping a little quicker, and the slight tilt to his head makes your throat threaten to close.

- his lips wrap around yours before you can protest his comment, leaning into you to slightly dip your back over your bed until he’s dropping you both along the mattress carefully.

- “can i show you just how pretty you are? will you let me?”

- he can spend hours kissing you all over. if you have freckles or moles all around your skin, i can assure you he’s kissed every single one.

- i’d like to think that, despite him not being super experienced, he’s still a very loving guy.

- he doesn’t overthink, he’s very carefree, so if he wants to eat you out, he’s going to. obviously with your consent ofc.

- he may not be the best at it, but he does know a lot about you, and since he spends a lot of time with you, it’s easy to see what you like and what you don’t.

- he thinks ur cunt is so pretty. probably embarrasses you on accident by just staring at it LMFAOO

- he’s so gentle when he starts. pressing his hands into your inner thighs to keep them spread, and his tongue is the first to touch you.

- fingers your clit so he can really delve between your folds.

- “taste s’good,” he’ll moan into your cunt.

- btw he’s moaning just as much as you are, he can’t get enough.

- tell him what to do. he likes when you whisper, “just…keep doing that for a second,” or “wait move your hand ba—fuck, right there.”

- it makes him feel so good when he’s doing it right.

- another man who’ll rut against the bed, and may i be so bold as to say he might even cum just from eating you out?

- yes. yes i may.

- he’s so obedient too. i don’t think he has it in him to ever edge you, because he finds that he just can’t stop.

- will overstimulate you more then anything.

- when you cum, he’ll probably be panting just as much as you are. his breath against ur dripping cunt, making to shudder while you catch your own.

- cups your cheek to kiss you again, completely ignoring the fact that your slick is all over his lips.

- he’s in love.

- “thank you for being my girlfriend.” GNNNNN.

shane.

- tbh, y’all probably had sex before u even started dating.

- more then once, at that.

- some of which you were both tipsy after a friday night, coming back to your farm to fuck him in every room of your house.

- you guys were definitely fuckbuddies at first.

- he went down on you a few times during these stages.

- but, as a guy who was a little drunk, horny, and honestly just wanted to get his dick wet—it wasn’t the best he could do. just enough to warm you up.

- he was completely fine with your situation, until he started to realize he was actually falling for you.

- that he wanted to see you outside of just hooking up. he liked when you’d stop by on his way to work, talk to him for a minute. he’d actually look forward to it.

- so when he ended up on your couch again, arms laced and kiss marks already littering your neck, he knew he was going to make this time different.

- your dress rode up just under your bra, his lips sucking your skin down your stomach while you propped yourself against the armrest of the couch.

- he was quick to loop his fingers underneath your panties, tugging them down your legs.

- “someone’s eager,” you tease, having no clue that you’re absolutely right.

- he’s almost desperate. like he has to show you he’s better then what he’s done in the past.

- his arms latch onto your hips, teeth gently biting down on your inner thigh to hear you let out a brief squeal.

- “stay still f’me, okay?” he asks, his breath hitting against your cunt that makes your stomach flutter.

- it’s the way he delves between your thighs that has you stuttering a gasp, instantly ignoring his one request so he has to use minimal strength to force your hips still and thighs apart.

- his lips sucking onto your puffy clit, causing your stomach to clench and immediately squirm under his hold.

- you’re looking down at him like you’re baffled behind pinched eyebrows and jaw wide—which is exactly what he wanted.

- so much so, he can’t even hide his smirk as his tongue slides between your folds to taste you properly.

- “o-oh, fuck me,” you breathe, head hanging back.

- you’re squirming so much, and he’s not having it.

- “can’t you listen to me?” he almost groans, hardly pulling away for his words to become intelligible so the vibration against your clit has you arching your back.

- he’s so messy, uncaring about the slick that’s staining his cheeks and chin.

- loves when you hide your face, mainly because it makes his confidence boost, but he’ll fs call u out.

- “nuh-uh baby, eyes on me.”

- he’ll gently nip at your clit if you look away.

- and he’s teasing you so much, you can feel tears prickle in the corners of your eyes.

- he’ll edge you just so he can start all over, and then overstimulate you so you’ll never forget it.

- will literally leave you breathless, collapsed on your bed after cumming for what felt like hours.

- and he has the AUDACITY to ask, “what? that’s all you got? c’mon, you can give me one more…right?”

sebastian.

- spreading the inexperienced sebastian agenda one post at a time.

- he’s never gone down on anyone before. so genuinely, he has no idea what he’s doing.

- well, okay that’s a lie. he’s not an idiot.

- he knows how stimulating a woman’s clit is, and he knows where it is more importantly.

- but he’s never exactly had one directly in front of his face.

- he’s only ever seen pussy eating in porn, and that’s not the most reliable source. so he’s kind of just depending on you to help him out.

- don’t be shy, either. he wants to learn. he wants to make you feel good.

- his goal: to make you pass out, tbh.

- but baby steps first.

- you’ve already had sex many times before he even proposed the idea of going down on you.

- he’s fingered you before, but even then that’s still new.

- needless to say, you were taken off guard when he asks, “can i go down on you?” after a lazy evening.

- you’re both doing your own thing, with him on his computer and you cleaning some freshly harvested vegetables in the sink.

- “excuse me?” you laugh.

- until you realize he’s not kidding.

- “i wanna learn.” is all he says, before you’re grabbing his hand and guiding him to your bedroom.

- he’s gotten good at knowing how to kiss you, that enough has you warmed up pretty well. you didn’t even have to tell him to kiss his way down your neck, to your stomach before he’s spreading your thighs in front of him.

- he wants to start by fingering you, because he knows how to do that, plus he kinda wants to approach it confidently.

- like i once said. long, thin fingers. he also plays the keyboard…he’s skilled w his hands.

- rests his cheek on your thigh, watching the way his fingers disappear in and out of your wet cunt, and the occasional gasp you let out.

- “what do you want me to do?” almost breathless when he asks.

- when he feels bold enough, he subtly flicks the tip of his tongue against your clit, keeping his fingers moving inside of you while his eyes glance up.

- just the way your stomach clenched from that one simple action has him eager.

- wraps his lips around your clit and sucks.

- “s-shit, yeah, like that,” you weakly praise behind multiple stutters and pants.

- he can’t get enough of how your cunt squeezes around his fingers the more he does something your body appropriately reacts to.

- which he loves. it’s like you’re subconsciously telling him he’s doing so well.

- he never realized how much he loves when you tug on his hair until now, mainly because you unknowingly press him against your cunt so he has nothing better then to just lick.

- he doesn’t take his fingers out of you, but he does move them a little so he can finally get a taste of the entirety of you.

- whines.

- he’s practically drunk.

- wishes he wasn’t so nervous to do this beforehand, because fuck you feel so good on his tongue.

- “the prettiest pussy, tastes so fucking good,” he mumbles.

- you probably didn’t even hear him bc he made no effort to pull away.

- stuffs his fingers inside of you, curls them right when you’re about to cum.

- and when you do, he feels on top of the world.

- he’s never seen your body shake like that.

- and now he doesn’t wanna stop.

alex.

- omfffffg.

- he’s a sweetheart, through and through.

- so doting and adoring the longer you get to know him and be with him.

- it’s rare you’ll wake up to make breakfast, or make dinner without his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin resting on your head.

- and he’s a little clingy, but that’s just because he loves you so much.

- ur first time having sex w him was early in ur relationship. probably the same day you made it official i’m ngl.

- but he likely didn’t go down on you until a few times after.

- not because he didn’t want to, but lowkey giving or receiving head isn’t his favorite part of sex. as a man w a lot of stamina, he’s fucking you to fuck you. not just eat you out.

- which is why you were a little shocked when you felt his kisses move down your torso, his hands gliding against the sides of your waist as he moves down.

- he also wraps his arms around your thighs to hold you still,

- mainly to show off his muscles.

- oh yeah, he’s not wearing a shirt btw. he never does.

- kinda laughs when you express your nervousness about him going down on you.

- “relax, pretty. just trust me. i’ll stop if you want me to.”

- kisses your thighs, and once he finally takes off ur underwear he’s suchhh a tease.

- like, to the point where you’re dripping, impatiently rocking your hips into him.

- “what happened, baby? not scared anymore? what’s the matter, hmm?” “all needy and i haven’t even done anything, hah.”

- i hate him (affectionately.)

- once he finally touches you where you need him, he’s so fucking slow.

- eyes on you the whole time, his little snarky smirk on his face watching you nibble onto the back of your hand to muffle your moans.

- he waits a minute before he fingers you while licking your clit.

- he feels so fucking good when you give up on staying quiet, letting your back arch and nearly scream out a moan.

- he’s so quick with it, his nice, thick fingers knowing just where to curl inside of you.

- “cum for me, c’mon, know you can do it.” he pulls away to speak.

- he needs to watch you entirely when you cum, so he replaces his lips with his thumb while he rubs your clit and fingers you until you’re sobbing.

- “i know baby, i know. just let it out.”

- he doesn’t stop just yet, but he’ll slow down until you nearly force him away from overstimulation.

- makes u lick his fingers loooolllllll.

- and he’ll make out with you so hard while you’re still trying to catch your breath.

- side note, i feel like he enjoys putting you in lots of different positions. if you weren’t flexible before alex, then u sure as hell are now.

- …probably ate u out once with u sitting on his shoulders against the wall. i’m sayin.

elliot.

- alright now.

- do i even have to say it?

- HE’S A MUNCH!!!!!!!!!!!

- if u don’t think he’s eating u out the very first time u have sex then ur just lying to urself. there’s no way he’d miss this step.

- if you don’t want him to, that’s a different story. he wouldn’t even dream of pressuring you.

- but if you do…u better believe.

- he’s so gentle and sweet, first of all.

- holding your cheek, cupping your jaw while your lips move so graciously against one another’s.

- he’s absolutely kissing his way down, but he’s taking his time, letting you squirm underneath him.

- “you’re just so perfect darling, look so beautiful.”

- kisses ur clit <3

- he’s so slow and gentle, licking you softly and listening to your quiet gasps.

- he swoons when he can hear your breath hitch the moment he starts to pick up his movements.

- he’ll position your thighs on his shoulders and laces your fingers together.

- he’s super responsive. loves when you praise him / tell him you like what he’s doing.

- especially when you feel so good you can’t really speak, so you end up roping your fingers through his hair and tugging it into a loose bun.

- that’s enough to drive him crazy.

- “nngh, c-can’t, s’too much,” you whine, back arches and eyes squeezed shut.

- but your words mean nothing in contrast to the way your hands press against the back of his head, keeping his close.

- he doesn’t even need to use his fingers to make you cum. his tongue is so skilled.

- sucking ur clit like a pacifier 🫡

- he’s also very vocal. he usually coaxes you through sex using his words, but since he can’t while he’s eating u out, he’s just left to moaning uncontrollably.

- and he can’t get over the vibrations making your body shudder every time.

- he gets so excited when you’re close to cumming.

- how you just kind of go silent, jaw locked in aisle nt scream with an occasional whimper pushing through.

- and how you immediately exhale the moment you finish, body nearly collapsing.

- he’s not stopping lol.

- wants you literally shaking, your overstimulation short circuiting your brain so you just fall weak.

- “i’m so proud of you, my love. did so good for me, tastes so good. think you can do it again?”

#ੈ✩‧₊˚ headcanons #stardew valley #sdv bachelors #hi so thank you so much for 100 followers??? what??? #literally so grateful i wanna kiss all of u #stardew valley hcs #sdv harvey x farmer #sdv harvey x reader #harvey x farmer #sdv sam x farmer #sdv sam x reader #sam x farmer #sdv shane x farmer #sdv shane x reader #shane x farmer #sdv sebastian x farmer #sdv sebastian x reader #sebastian x farmer #sdv alex x farmer #sdv alex x reader #alex x farmer #sdv elliot x farmer #sdv elliot x reader #elliot x farmer #sdv harvey #sdv sam #sdv sebastian #sdv shane #sdv alex #sdv elliot

[silencesscreams]

thin ice

hockey!james potte. x ice skater!reader

summary: you and james go to the same training rink and always see each other. you eventually start talking and flirting, but what you didn’t know, was that you’d see him at your best friend’s birthday party and get absolutely hooked.

warnings: fluffly fluff, petnames, f!reader, use of y/n a few times, she/her pronouns referring to r, drinking

pls tell me about any grammar mistakes, english isn’t my first language!!

he sure had a nerve.

first he bumps into you in the hallway and doesn’t even apologize,

and then he asks you to get him some water? what does he think you’re doing there?

“sorry, i don’t work here.” you said, looking at him with your brows furrowed.

“oh, i just thought that you worked here because of the matching uniforms, you know?” you were about to laugh at him but then you noticed the red on his cheeks. was this man blushing?

“i’m sorry, how many times did you ask girls from the skating team for water?” you giggled, and suddenly his face is even redder.

“lets just say i gotta apologize to a lot of girls. i’m james by the way. james potter.” he dropped his gloves as he went to shake your hand. as he bent down to pick them up, you read the name on his jersey. ‘prongs’. you didn’t know what it meant, but it was kind of cute.

“prongs? what does that mean?” you ask, curious about him.

“its my hockey name”

“hockey name? like an artist name?”

“sort of, its nicer to call for prongs than to call for james.” he explained.

“really? cause i like james better.” you said, grabbing your bag from the bench you were sat on. “well, gotta go. but i’ll see you later, prongs.”

“i didn’t quite catch your name!” he shouted as you walked away.

“guess you’ll just have to find out!” you said, smirking at him from afar.

james potter sure was interesting.

as time passed, he eventually figured out your name, but he didn’t really use it. you found out he loved petnames, and you eventually started liking them too.

sure, you weren’t close, but you really liked the ‘hey ,hun, how are you?’s until you got something better than that.

“hey, love, how are you?” james asked as he filled his water bottle.

“hi, james, i’m good” you smiled

“so, i was thinking” your stomach started twisting itself into a knot. “could i maybe get your number?”

“yeah, of course.” your cheeks were getting hotter by the second.

“great, just type in” he smirked, giving you his phone. “i’ll text you later?”

“for sure.” you smiled.

once you got to practice, it was obvious something happened, specially because of the smile you couldn’t get rid of.

“what’s up, y/n?” pandora asked, as you sat down next to her.

“james. he asked me for my number.” you kept on smiling.

“you mean prongs? okay, score” marlene joked.

“please! we’re friends.” you insisted.

“like you don’t have the biggest crush on him.” pandora laughed and you shoved your face in your hands, blushing.

once james got to practice, it was obvious something had happened to him too. specially because he couldn’t stop smiling.

“spill it, prongs.” sirius said, without even looking at him for two full seconds.

“what?!” james got defensive and sirius glared at him. “i asked y/n for her number.”

“what’d she say?” peter asked, remus was clearly paying attention too.

“she just gave it to me, can you believe that?” he smiled.

“i actually can’t.” sirius joked.

“shut up!” james scoffed.

“we’re going to lily’s birthday thing, i’m sure she’ll be there too. if you wanna shoot your shot.” remus smirked at him.

“really?” james asked, a glimmer in his eyes.

james had never felt so excited about any girl before, he couldn’t actually describe it. there was just something about you.

you spent the whole week talking to james, texting, getting coffee after practice,

he took about two hours to get ready for lily’s birthday, he was so nervous when he got there he felt like he could faint. it also didn’t help sirius was laughing at him for a very long time, but when you got there? that was probably it for him.

he could’ve just fainted because of the dress you were wearing, red was definitely your color. and with that he couldnt stop picturing you in his team’s uniform.

as you said hi to your friends, mary pointed him out and you could’ve actually passed out. your stomach went into swirls and you waved at him from afar, when he smiled at you, that was probably the nail onto your coffin, because james potter was going to be the only thing on your mind for a long time.

he came over to you after about 15 minutes of overthinking all the things he said to you through text.

“hey, hun” he said, giving you a quick hug.

“hi, james, fancy seeing you here!” you joke, taking a sip from your coke and rum.

“well, what can i say? im a pretty unpredictable guy.” he joked, sitting next to you and playing with the straw on your cup.

“you want some?” you suggested because by the way he was looking at your cup, it seemed like he was craving it.

“nah, i’m driving tonight.” he said, a sad puppy look on his face.

“hey, y/n, weren’t you needing that drive home?” pandora asked, kicking your feet.

“oh, if you want to, i can take you home.” the dark haired boy suggested, smiling at you, again, and how could you say no?

“i’d actually love that, thanks” you couldn’t help but smile back.

“you can just drop me off here” you said as he stopped in front of the driveway. “thanks for the ride, jamie”

as you looked over to him, he was already looking at you. his eyes were focused on your mouth, and he knew that if he didn’t ask you now he probably wouldn’t.

“hey, i was thinking, my team’s playing next Saturday and i’d reallt like it if you’d come by and watch… if you’re free and want to, of course.” he was staring at the steering wheel. “it’s this casual thing, don’t worry, i actually think some of your friends are going and-“

“i’ll be there.” you assure him, james’ head quickly turns, hes facing you again.

now you both are just staring at each other, lingering. his hand went over to you and put back a strand of your hair, and so you heart was pounding in your chest very rapidly and you didn’t quite know what he’d do next.

“i really wanna kiss you now.” he whispered like it was the biggest secret he ever told anyone.

“okay.” you answered, quickly nodding, very nervous to say anything else.

“but i cant though, not yet, ‘cause i know you had a lot to drink.” you felt like he was mostly saying that to himself.

“good night, james, thanks again for the ride.” you felt kind of let down, but still gave him a kiss on the cheek before you opened the car door.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU COULDNT KISS HER? WHAT THE HELL JAMES??” sirius shouted out at the locker room.

“SHE HAD A LOT TO DRINK!” he was trying so hard to defend himself, peter shook his head in disbelief.

“shes out there, i think. i’ll kiss her as soon as we finish this, i swear.” james promised, putting on his gloves.

“its not us you gotta swear to, mate.” remus said, and james knew that.

“wait so he didnt kiss you because you had some drinks?” lily asked, confused. “THAT WAS A FOUL, COME ON REF!” she shouted out before you answered.

“i actually think its kind of sweet.” pandora commented.

“i feel the same, but i really wanted a kiss, and i didn’t even drink that much! did i?” you ask, nervously.

“i dont think so.” lily was up and clapping now, she was the most excited about the game of all people there, mary was just giggling at her girlfriend enthusiasm.

you waved at james during the intermission, he blushed and waved back and you were incredibly happy. you were cheering when he scores, and eventually started shouting the same things as lily (because you knew nothing about the rules).

when they won the game, you cheered like a proud mother, it felt good to be there for him. as he stepped out of the rink, he was calling you over, as you ran to him, he was taking his helmet off and turned around to get the mouthguard and you thought that was the cutest thing.

“hi” you smiled at him.

“hi” he answered, pulling you in and immediately kissing you, his lips were soft and he smelled like strawberry two in one shampoo.

“is this okay?” he asked once he pulled back, you couldn’t bare to answer, so you nodded, and just pulled him in again.

“hm, could you maybe get me some water?” he joked, pulling back again

“you’re an idiot, james potter.”

later that same evening, as you watched him dip french fries in a milkshake, you realized that you were walking on thin ice, specially because you might be falling in love.

#lila writes #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter fic #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter oneshot #james potter fanfiction #james potter is my bf #i love him so much #MY BF HOCKEY PLAYER!!! #hockey!au #silencesscreams #hockey!james potter

[sushiwriterhere]

new rules

summary: "Don’t pick up the phone, he’s only calling because he’s drunk and alone. Don’t let him in, you’ll have to kick him out again. Don’t be his friend, you know he’s going to wake up in your bed in the morning. If you’re under him, you’re sure as hell not getting over him."  rating: explicit (18+ mdni) pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x f!reader word count: 8.5k (this got away from me sorry y'all) warnings: angst (lack of communication!), idiots pining, PiV (unprotected), oral (f receiving), hangman x phoenix (blink and u will miss it), no use of y/n.  notes: thank you to @waklman for letting me bounce ideas off you! im very nervous abt this one, i feel like its dif from my other stuff so pls pls let me know what u think! my other works are here

Friends with benefits is maybe an inaccurate way to describe what’s going on between you and Bradley. Friends? Sure, since he asked you if you were using that bench at the beach and then he’d introduced himself. With benefits? You’re not sure if they really could be classified that way.

Bradley’s almost always a perfect gentleman. 

He doesn’t ignore you in the daylight, but the two of you never talk about the way he finds himself in your bed most nights rather than not, drunk or sober. 

It had started one night when you’d turned down an invitation to go to the Hard Deck, instead choosing to do a night of self care. You’d spent too long doing your eyebrows and managed to get a sheet mask to fully cover your face for once. You lost count of how much time you spent in the shower as an indulgence, and threw on the comfiest clothing you owned. Then, you sat yourself down in front of your TV to numb your mind with some perfectly trashy reality television.

Around 11:30, your phone had rang. Picking it up and squinting at the brightness, you saw Bradley’s face grinning back at you, the picture from one of your many beach days since you’d met. 

Despite your best instincts you’d picked up. What if he was stranded? What if something had happened? You’d steeled yourself for the worst. 

Instead, Bradley had just opened with a simple, “Hey.”

“Bradley? Is everything okay?” You could hear the noise of the Hard Deck in the background, but it had been yelling and there weren’t any sirens. 

“Yeah,” His sigh had come over extra loud through the speakers, “Just uh, was just thinking about you.”

“Okay,” What the hell? You remember mouthing the words to yourself as someone on screen had thrown a drink in someone else’s face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He hadn’t responded to your question, instead he’d just said, “Are you at your apartment?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Bradley is everything–”

“I’ll see you soon.” And with that, he’d hung up with a definitive click. 

You’d stared at the dimming screen of your phone for probably almost five minutes. Surely he couldn’t have been that drunk–god, was he planning on driving? Calling him during that was probably a bad idea.

Great, leave it to Bradley to stress you the fuck out on a Friday evening when you’d been aiming for peace. You’d tried to refocus on your show, but you weren’t even paying attention to the words. 

No more than five minutes later, there had been a knock at your door. You’d stood slowly, not sure that this was actually happening. 

You’d opened the door to a Bradley with flushed cheeks and a glint in his eye, leaning against the railing outside your apartment. It was only after a moment of silence that you realized you were wearing an old Navy shirt of his, loaned to you at the beach a few weeks ago. You could feel the way his eyes started at your legs and dragged up your frame, taking everything in.

“Bradley?”

He’d pushed off the railing and backed you into your apartment, letting the door swing shut behind the two of you. You’d backed into the living room til your back hit a wall, your heart in your throat. You couldn’t look away from him, not with the way he’d been crowding into your space, leaning into you.

“Hi, sweetheart.” His voice was a tone he’d never used on you before, and you remember the way your heart had hammered in your chest. 

He’d been so warm and so close, setting all of your nerve endings on fire. It wasn’t that you hadn’t realized that Bradley was attractive–the man’s whole job was to stay in shape and be clean cut. He was beautiful. But you’d kept that to yourself, afraid of crossing that line, afraid that you’d ruin something that was turning out to be one of the strongest friendships you’d had in years. 

You still feel that fear, despite all the lines that have been crossed since that moment.

The way he’d kissed you had wiped every thought from your head. His hands had slid up your thighs to grip at your waist under his shirt hanging loosely on you. His mouth had moved smoothly against yours, making you sigh and wrap your arms around his shoulders. 

By the time the two of you had made your way into your bedroom, he’d lost every piece of clothing but his briefs and his dog tags. They’d dug into your sternum as you’d pressed yourself against him, the cool metal warming quickly between the two of you. 

The way your blood had been rushing in your ears from adrenaline had drowned out the way he’d murmured to himself as he’d kissed down your body. He never did pull his shirt off you. He’d simply maintained his grip on your hips, lifting your thighs over his shoulders as he’d pulled your panties down and licked desperately into you.

Your hands had gone to his hair out of reflex. He had been rocking you steadily and you think you’ll always remember how you felt when you’d realized it was because he was grinding his hips against the bedframe, so turned on from getting his mouth on you. 

He’d eaten you out like a man starved, his nose bumping into your clit as his tongue fucked you. It had been messy and loud but you hadn’t cared about the neighbors or your dignity, not with the way his fingers had finally curled into you. 

“Bradley,” You’d gasped when you finally came, back arching and fingers tightening in his hair to the point where your knuckles ached.

He’d held you through it, had let you rock your hips against his face and not complained at all. In fact, he’d seemed delighted by the way you’d let yourself just feel, pleasure wracking your body and consuming your mind in a haze.

Kissing his way up your body, he’d slid his hands under the shirt and groped you gently. You remember the way your mind had stayed cloudy and you’d floated, tethered only to the real world by the way his thumbs flicked gently at your nipples.

“I’m here, I’m here,” He’d panted into your mouth as you whined when he’d sat back slightly to kick off his briefs and hitch your thighs over his waist, “I’ve got you.”

The first time Bradley had ever slid his cock into you, you knew you’d never be the same, that you’d never be able to go back. Not when he’d kept himself hovering over you just barely, propped up on his elbow, with his lips still brushing yours and his dog tags catching in the sheen of sweat along your sternum. Not when he rocked into you inch by inch, making the world around you blur into nothingness. 

You’d let yourself fall apart under him, let yourself sink into the mattress and just take whatever he was willing to give you. He’d fucked you deeper and more gently than anyone before–to this day, you’re not even sure you can classify it as ‘fucking’, that always felt too vulgar for the way he’d brushed his lips over your cheekbones and murmured sweet nothings. 

But saying Bradley had, and still does, made love to you means trying to find something from nothing, means discerning some sort of level of connection he’s never made clear. You’re not trying to break your own heart more than you already are.

In spite of that, you can’t forget the way he’d held you like you were precious, like you were everything to him. He’d cum inside you with a guttural moan, a punched out gasp at the way you’d clenched around him. It had made you realize that was all you’d ever wanted, Bradley warm around you and inside you, him making you feel complete in a way you hadn’t known you weren’t whole before. 

He’d been a perfect gentleman when you’d both come down, easing out of you so he could clean up. He’d massaged your thighs and hips where you were sure you would’ve been aching the next morning if he hadn’t, had apologized under his breath at the fingerprints now dotying your hips. He’d thumbed at the collar of the Navy shirt where it had stayed on your frame the entire time, looking pensive but never saying anything.

You’d woken up alone the next morning, a sticky note on the bedside table reading–Had to run for work. Thanks for having me over. A messy heart and a hastily scrawled Bradley closing off the message. 

And so it went. So it goes. 

During the day, you and Bradley are the paragon of good friendship–he’ll send you memes when he gets access to his phone in between flights and lessons, you’ll pick him up after work to go to the beach. The two of you don’t talk about it–because what is there to talk about? 

No words are ever exchanged about the way that Bradley clears out a drawer for you at his place, you just find a few of the things you’d left at his place in there one day. You never give back his Navy shirt, not when you find yourself wearing it more often than not. Nothing is said about how you start picking up his favorite flavors of ice cream and his preferred brand of coffee creamer, you just make a habit of throwing them into your cart when you go to the store.

And everything is fine. It really is. You disregard the side glances from Phoenix and Bob as they see you leave with Bradley on Friday and Saturday nights, you ignore the way Hangman wiggles his eyebrows at you when Bradley insists on paying for your drinks. Just friends, is all. Just friends.

They can make their assumptions, whisper while you’re out of ear shot, but they don’t see the quiet, comfortable domesticity that you and Bradley engage in when the two of you are alone. You go back to his after beach afternoons since it’s closer to your favorite spot, and the two of you will shower (separately) and make dinner together. Sometimes you’ll sleep over if you’re working remote the next day, sometimes you’ll go home.

On weekends, Bradley picks you up in the morning, trunk holding a cooler full of drinks and snacks, and you two will go to the beach again or go on a hike. Sometimes Phoenix or Bob or the whole crew will come along, sometimes they won’t. 

Just friends. And it’s fine.

Until everything isn’t fine. 

Bradley and you have been at this for a few months now, and you can feel yourself cracking. You’re reaching out to kiss him when you do wake up together, before your brain is awake enough to stop you, reminding you that that’s not what you two do. On an outing to a boardwalk teeming with life and populated by those games you can win stuffed animals at, you resist the urge to press him against the railing of the pier and lick the taste of your shared gelato cone out of his mouth. 

When the dam finally breaks, it begins like any other night. You have a margarita and a half in you, some concoction that Phoenix insisted you try that’s actually good. Bradley’s already done a rendition of My Way at Penny’s request, but for now the jukebox is blaring some 80s hit Hangman picked out.

You can feel yourself swaying to the beat, just letting the warmth of the moment sink in as you’re surrounded by your friends, the people you love. 

“Hi,” Bradley breathes into your ear as he sidles up next to you, his arms coming to settle around your waist. You can feel his warmth through the flimsy fabric of the dress you’ve got on.

“Hi Brad,” He hates it when people call him that–lets you get away with it though. “What’cha doin’?”

“Waitin’ for you.” He leans his entire body weight against you, making you slump against the table you’re standing next to.

“Ah! Bradley, stop it.” You try to stand, but the way he’s laughing makes it hard to shake yourself from his grip, “What do you mean you’re waiting for me? I’m waiting for you.”

The grin he shoots you is electric, and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, right here in the middle of the Hard Deck, with all your friends around and in Penny and Mav’s line of sight. That thought makes your heart skip a beat.

“Come home with me?” He whispers, just barely letting his voice rise above the background noise, and when you don’t respond immediately, “Or let me take you home?”

That’s all it takes, really, for you to agree. The way he’s so willing, so malleable, for you. You’re leading him out by the hand without responding to his questions, making your way to the Bronco that’s parked in the back corner of the lot. 

Bradley keeps the foolish grin on his face the entire time he drives back to your apartment. The warmth radiating from him doesn’t abate when he licks into your mouth once the two of you are inside. One of his palms rests against your heart, the other working its way up your thigh and inside your panties that are already damp. 

“You’re so good to me,” He murmurs, dipping his fingers below your waistband and brushing through your curls, feeling just how slick you are. 

All you can do is whine as he picks you up and makes his way to your bedroom. For once, he doesn’t trip or stub his toe on anything, and it somehow heightens the intensity. Normally, you and Bradley seek comedic relief of some sort, something to cut the tension and keep it from making your chest tighten in a way that feels like a warning. This time, you aren’t granted any such reprieve.

He undresses you slowly and deliberately, letting his fingertips drag lightly up your sides and over your shoulders. He shrugs his Hawaiian shirt off easily, and lets you yank his wife beater over his head without complaint. 

Then, the two of you are just staring at each other, both panting lightly. You’re propped up on your elbows, staring up at him only in your panties. Bradley’s got one hand about to pop the button of his jeans, but he’s frozen. You feel like you can’t move but also like something might be changing. 

You don’t want it to change, you don’t want to lose Bradley in more ways than one. If this is what he’s willing to give you, you don’t want this to change. 

He nearly falls over when his foot gets stuck in his jeans, and even that doesn’t break the tension. Once he’s climbing over you, enveloping you, kissing up your stomach and neck, you forget all about decorum and keeping up appearances.

The whine that echoes around the room is pathetic and high pitched, but it’s the only way you think to communicate to Bradley how bad you need him in that moment. His hips are rocking gently against yours and you want the layers gone, you need to feel him. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” And his hands are around your hips, dragging your underwear off you unceremoniously. 

Although he makes a good attempt at going down on you, you don’t let him. You dig your fingers into his shoulder and yank at his hair to keep his face level with yours and kiss him desperately.

“I want to eat you out, please?” The depth of his voice sends a shiver through you.

Normally he wouldn’t even have to ask, but you don’t want that right now. You just want to feel him inside you. 

“Need you in me, please,” You take a heaving breath before the pleading spills out of you, “Pleasepleasepleaseplease–”

He shushes you as you scrunch your face up, not knowing how else to convey your desires in that moment, “Okay. I’ve got you, it’s okay.”

You almost wail in protest when his fingers slide into you. You can’t figure out why you feel like you’re burning up from the inside out, why you feel so fucking needy. 

“Sweetheart you gotta let me prep you somehow, just–” 

You feel like the embarrassment might kill you when you keen at the feeling of his fingers inside you. The way you’re trying to be good, you really are, because he does have a point. Plus, you have to be fair to Bradley, this isn’t just about you. 

So you hold still, let him work his fingers in and out of you as you pant and clutch at his shoulders like a lifeline. His mouth presses against yours, works its way over your cheeks and down your throat. He sucks a mark gently into your collarbone, and you ignore the way your brain reminds you about having to cover that up for work. 

He doesn’t shut up the entire time, just keeps telling you how good you’re doing for him, how good you feel, how he’s been thinking about this all night. The world seems to go right-side up again when he pushes into you. 

You whimper at the way he rocks his hips ever so gently before pulling out. He kisses you again and again, only letting his lips leave yours so he can kiss your forehead or cheeks. The motion of his hips is a steady tempo, he keeps time with your breaths that turn into moans when you start feeling that telltale coil in your stomach. 

He runs his tongue along your teeth and you’re done for. You clench down on him and dig your nails into his skin, bucking your hips up as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. 

Bradley fucks you through it like every other time, yes, but this time there’s something about the way he stutters out a moan and his hips match the faltering rhythm as he finishes right after you. The shallow rocking of his hips continues and you try to ignore the prickling of tears at the corners of your eyes. 

Something tells you that this time, you shouldn’t have let Bradley take you home. When he pulls his face back from yours and he rolls the two of you onto your sides without pulling out, he’s got this look on his face that screams unspoken words. He cups your face and strokes your cheekbone with his thumb without saying anything. 

The two of you are quiet as he cleans you up, as you dress yourself in another one of his shirts.

When you wake up the next morning, Bradley isn’t there. It doesn’t shock you necessarily, sometimes he stays, sometimes he has to leave to be on time for work.

What does send a terrible feeling trickling down your throat and into your stomach is the post-it, all four square inches covered in sloppy hearts. Bradley had signed his name in the bottom left corner, characteristic chicken scratch labeling it as him even if the name wasn’t enough.

This has to end.

Don’t pick up the phone, he’s only calling because he’s drunk and alone.

You last about three rings before you cave in, waiting for the sound of his voice to echo around the apartment. You’re holding your breath.

“I knocked.” Is all he says before you’re on your feet, making your way to the door.

There he is, and although you know he isn’t really drunk, you know he’s got a beer or two in him from the way he doesn’t try to hide how he looks at you. You hate the way you’re weak for him.

You’ve been caving to him more than once a week since that first night, since Bradley had knocked your world off kilter. Though you’re in bed together almost every night, whether at his place or yours, you don’t have sex nearly every time. Part of you thinks that might make it worse. It really had been fine at first, but the first morning you’d cried at the sight of that sticky note covered in hearts, you’d known you had to try and put an end to this.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” He tries, a crooked grin splitting his face as he walks toward you, but you know he doesn’t mean his words at all. 

“Bradshaw, have you been drinking?” You want to not want this, want to not want the way his gaze pins you down, the way the length of his body against yours just feel so right.

Let him being drunk and you being sober be the excuse, you beg silently. You can’t manage to force out that maybe he should go home, sleep this off in his own bed. You can’t find it in yourself to tell him to leave, to reject his advances. Watching as if outside your own body, he shuts the door behind him and walks up to you. 

Your chest aches with unconfessed feelings when he takes your face in his hands and lets his forehead rest against yours. His lips are soft and warm against yours, his mustache tickling you lightly when it brushes against your face. The whine you let out matches his soft groan, and the two of you stand there making out for a few minutes, almost as if you’re both content to just drink each other in without further motives. 

“I’ve got you sweetheart, I’ve got you,” And he’s picking you up.

You yelp at the way you’re suddenly lifted from the ground and you bury your face in his neck. You hate heights, your feet off the ground anything more than a few inches sends you spiraling in short order. But it’s Bradley who’s holding you, and some part of you knows he’d never let you fall, never let you crash into the ground. 

The way you two fall into your bed is too natural, it makes your stomach churn. His fingers find their place on your hips, around your thighs. It’s all too easy. You wish it would be a bit more awkward, that the chemistry could be imagined or false–instead you’re confronted by the way your bodies flow with one another’s all too easily. 

Again, somehow, you’re in nothing but his Navy shirt. 

Maybe I should give it back, the thought flits through your mind and you feel guilty immediately. Bradley always seems to take a special sort of pleasure from fucking you in his shirt, and you selfishly want to keep that bargaining chip, to have something that tethers him to you. If he won’t come back to press you into your sheets, then maybe he’ll come back one last time to get his shirt when this inevitably unravels. 

“Sweetheart,” He groans softly when his fingers reach the way you’re embarrassingly wet between your legs. 

It takes everything in you not to jerk back from his touch–you still don’t know how to confront the way you’re so responsive to his touch. His mere presence.

“I missed you.”

It slips out before you can stop yourself, your lips part and you breathe the words before you can do anything about it. He chooses that exact moment to dip a fingertip into your fluttering, but empty, hole, and you arch your back and moan. Instead of responding, he kisses you hungrily, all pretense gone. 

This isn’t something entirely tender, not anymore. He’s searching for something, a certain reaction, with the way he adds and then curls his fingers inside of you. He finds it when you jerk underneath him at the way he pets at that spot inside you you can never seem to reach on your own. 

He mumbles against your lips, “There you go,” As you squirm under him, the press of his fingers inside you relentless.

He works his fingers in and out of you, not taking anything in return. It’s all you can do to hold on to him and whine pitifully. Every sensation feels amplified, feels electric because it’s him. 

The two of you settle into a familiar rhythm for as long as it takes for Bradley to make you cum the first time. You’re rocking against him through the aftershocks and you can feel the way he’s hard against you through his clothes.

He’s still dressed. The realization sends a bolt of shame through you, but it doesn’t linger long. 

He’s shoving his jeans down his legs, not bothering with wiping his hand clean and you shiver at the thought that he’ll have to put them on again, you streaked across them. He makes quick work of his boxers too, and it occurs to you that he must’ve lost his shirt somewhere along the way when he presses his bare chest against your still clothed one.

“Bradley, Bradley,” You chant, “Take off my shirt.”

It’s the most demanding you’ve probably ever been with him, but he laughs at you anyways. There’s a glint in his eye as he sits up, his hard cock bobbing between his thighs. The sight of his naked form between your spread legs makes you swallow hard and your mouth water. 

“I like you in my shirt.” There’s something unsaid there, something about claims and ownership that isn’t truly possession, but a reminder of who belongs to whom regardless.

You pull it off your head in protest, and grab his wrist to drag him back down to you. You let yourself indulge in trailing a hand down the firm planes of his body down to where he’s smearing precum against your thigh. He’s heavy and pulsing in your hand and a light hiss rushes through his clenched teeth when you grip him tightly and twist with your wrist. 

“Fuck, fuck, not gonna last if you–” Bradley cuts himself off with a groan as you swipe your thumb over his head. 

It’s your turn to laugh, “You just got here.”

“Well, have you ever had sex with yourself? It’s tough out here–give a guy a break.”

The both of you dissolve into giggles at that, as you try to imagine how you would look sprawled under yourself. You can’t picture it, but the image of Bradley under or over you makes you think you might understand. 

He lines his hips up with yours once you’re both done making fools of yourself at the thought of you having sex with yourself (it reminds you of a drunk hypothetical you’d spent thirty minutes on with Hangman once–would you have sex with a clone of yourself?). 

The first push of him inside you cuts through the lighthearted mood immediately. It always shocks you how perfectly he fits inside you despite his size, how incredibly full you feel when his hips meet yours. The gentle friction of the neat curls at the base of his cock against your clit always provides a stimulation that makes your brain go fuzzy. 

The snap of his hips against yours is more intense this time, a sort of rhythm that makes you briefly think about the way the headboard might start knocking against the wall. But all thoughts, really, fly out of your head when Bradley brings a hand up to your nipples, the steady stroke of his fingers over the swell of your breasts as practiced and knowing as everything else he’s doing to you. 

All you can do is run your hands down his back, scratch your nails against his skin ever so often when he brushes against something so sweet and perfect inside you. You clench around him just to see the reaction it’ll get, and you’re rewarded with a broken groan.

“You’re not fighting fair,” He gasps, and he hitches one of your thighs up so he can press more insistently into you. 

You have a clever comeback somewhere in you–something about how you weren’t aware that the two of you were fighting, but it’s swallowed as he presses his lips into yours again. He seems absolutely intent on showing you exactly how you make him feel because the sensations of pleasure become overwhelming. 

“Fuck sweetheart, you feel perfect, god you’re so wet for me,” He’s rambling mindlessly, but you let it happen, clinging to any expression of emotion, any sliver of dedication in his tone that you can hold on to til the next time you find yourself in this position. 

You know he’s close when his grip on your thigh tightens forcefully and the strokes go from long and deep to slightly shorter and stunted. He’s grunting and gasping, but it’s all the best thing you’ve ever heard. 

“Come for me Bradley, I want to feel you,” And at that, he follows your orders, listens to you for once in his life. 

Everything is hazy as he keeps himself hovering over you and continues to rock his hips. You start to try and tell him he can pull out before his fingers find your clit and he dives back in to kiss you passionately. 

Bradley is a perfectionist at heart, an overachiever. You suppose it isn’t entirely ridiculous that that extends to his performance in the bedroom–he’s insistent you finish every time, and always more than him. Feeling the way he’s still warm and heavy inside you, his lips firm against yours, brings you over the edge more quickly than you’d like to admit. 

Still, you heave a shuddering gasp and let the pleasure wash over you. It’s overwhelming and all consuming, but he’s there through all of it til you feel yourself come back into your own body. 

You think he might be writing something on your skin, the way his finger loops and dips softly over your hip bone as he kisses you gently. He’s softening inside you and you can feel the mess the two of you made under your hips, except he isn’t moving, not yet at least, to rectify that situation. 

For once, you don’t push him to go clean up or scold him for another set of ruined sheets, you just let yourself bask in the moment as you imagine a world where the two of you will talk about this in the morning. You think of a timeline where this is where you end up because it’s where you’re meant to be, not because it’s something you’re choosing despite how it hurts you every time. You think of a place where Bradley is yours and you are his, wholly and completely.

Don’t let him in, you’ll have to kick him out again. 

“Didn’t you have a date tonight?” You breathe into his mouth.

Bradley just hums in response, brushing his lips over yours, down your jawline and your throat. His breath comes in warm puffs over your collarbones before he pulls back.

Hands pinned above your head, you squirm under his gaze. There’s something so intense about the way he’s looking at you, but you can’t bring yourself to squeeze your eyes shut to avoid it. Both of you lost your clothes somewhere on your way to the bedroom, and you’re thinking about how to persuade him to be the one to pick it all up when this is inevitably over. 

He smells like expensive cologne, and he’s got some product in his hair that made it difficult for you to brush your hands through it earlier. Plus, Phoenix had been dropping unsubtle hints earlier in the week (Hangman had affectionately called her out, a little sigh following— “You’re being such a shit stirrer.”)

“Bradley,” You try again, this time with a slight whine.

Did he seriously ditch some girl that’s probably been waiting on their date all week for this?

He responds by whispering your name back to you, the same tone undercutting the way he says it, “That doesn’t matter, I’m here now.”

The urge to keep complaining rises in you but he preempts your worries by licking into your mouth when you open it. 

He presses you into the mattress, weighing you down as he kisses you languidly, as if he’s trying to taste every part of you, as if he’s trying to memorize the sounds that escape you when he does. The warmth of his body makes your mind fog, and for the time being, everything else but this goes quiet. 

Distantly, you know that in the morning, he’ll have to leave. At the very least, he’ll have to go back to his to grab his stuff for the beach, a change of clothes. It isn’t kicking him out, but watching him leave again and again has started to build this pit at the bottom of your stomach. 

It would be different, you think, if the two of you were together. Because then, him leaving wouldn’t mean much where there would be an implicit promise and understanding that he was going to come back. Every time he closed the door behind him, you swallowed the fear that that would be your final memory of him. 

You’re selfish though. And you want to focus on the feeling of his touch instead of thinking about how you may never get to have this again. 

He makes it easy. Bradley pulls his shirt off and his dog tags make a gentle clinking sound as they hit each other and then finally come to rest on his chest. He looks like a god, backlit by the setting sun coming through your windows. 

This is how you want to remember him. Smiling down at you as he dives back in to kiss you breathless, twitching when you skim your fingertips up his sides because he’s ticklish. 

He makes short work of your shirt and sleep shorts, then his jeans are discarded. He stops briefly when his fingers reach the waistband of your underwear, a silent question that you answer by lifting your hips and letting him pull them off you. 

Every time he’s between your legs, he has this reverent look on his face, and it makes your chest twist at the fact that this time is no different. He holds your thighs open gently but firmly, and he presses his face into your pussy. Then, his tongue is darting out and licking up your core, flat and wide. 

You’d asked him once, if he likes going down on you. With a gleam in his eye, Bradley had said it was second only to being inside of you. You think of that as he eats you out enthusiastically, as you bury your hands in his hair and pull. 

He slides his tongue in and out of you, curls it around your clit and sucks in a way that makes your back arch and your thighs clenched around his head. Then, he’s slipping a finger inside and fucking you slowly with it. It makes you shiver as you realize how close you are. 

“Sweetheart, fuck, you taste incredible,” He murmurs, more to himself than anything else, pulling back briefly to make eye contact and you feel the way your breath quickens at the intensity of his gaze.

It only takes a few more minutes of him licking into you, tonguing at your clit, and adding another finger before you feel that familiar swooping in your stomach, before you’re choking out his name. Your back arches so much it aches, but it’s all you can do as the pleasure is all consuming. Bradley works you through it like every other time, holding you and letting you take what you need from him.

Then, he’s on you in an instant, kissing you furiously and sliding his hardness up and down you, covering himself in your slick. It’s filthy and sloppy but neither of you seem to mind. He lets himself rut against you til you’re hooking your legs around him and digging one of your heels into his back.

“Alright, alright,” He’s trying to sound nonchalant, but you know he’s more affected than his light tone lets on. 

The first push into you is always the most intense, but you suck in a deep breath that you force out through your teeth.

“I know, I know,” He croons, pressing little kisses all over your face as you adjust to him.

Bradley inches into you slowly, inch by inch. The initial stretch subsides til it’s replaced by the sweetest feeling of fullness, the way you can feel all of him. 

If there’s one thing the Navy’s good for, it’s the sheer strength Bradley possesses and has to maintain. You feel it in the way he fucks you, his back muscles rippling as you hold on for dear life. You feel it in the way his hips press into yours, shunting you slightly up the mattress.

For a while, the only sounds in the room are his hips meeting yours and the slick between the two of you. Momentarily, he pulls away from kissing you to look down to where he’s disappearing inside of you, that ring of you collecting at the base of his cock. His groan is guttural and broken. 

“Fuck, Bradley, it feels so good.”

He leans down again to kiss you sloppily, and the simple action of him burying a hand in your hair and twisting his wrist makes your heart skip a beat. He always knows exactly what you need when you need it. 

“C’mon, come for me, sweetheart, let me feel you.”

And because you’ve never been able to deny him anything, there you are, hurtling over the edge again. He’s everywhere around you, inside you, and his tongue in your mouth is the last thing you need to feel that wave crest inside of you. Bradley’s moan is deep as he feels you bare down on him and he follows you shortly after.

The moments after, when the glow is still settling and your mind is still hazy, are your favorite. Your mind is too foggy to focus on the fact that you know he’ll be leaving, but present enough to feel the way he doesn’t stop pressing kisses to your lips. You’re cognizant of how he cleans you up tenderly and presses his fingers into the skin of your thighs and hips just to watch it dimple. 

In those precious few minutes, that’s all that exists to you.

Don’t be his friend, you know he’s going to wake up in your bed in the morning. If you’re under him, you’re sure as hell not getting over him. 

You’re trying to ignore him, you really are. You start going to the beach an hour earlier than you usually do, hoping that he’s maintaining his schedule. Every tall brunette jogging across the sand sends your heart into overdrive. 

You still see Bradley when you go to the Hard Deck for a drink, but you keep a respectable distance between the two of you. If Phoenix mentions a round of pool, you jump at the chance, while asking Bob and Payback if they’d like to be the opposing team. You ignore the way your heart jumps into your throat when you can feel his eyes on you. 

Every note of Great Big Balls of Fire feels like a stab in the chest, and you hold back tears of frustration when you see some girl wrap her arms around his neck and rock along with him as he belts out the lyrics. You’re a fool. 

You’ve been ignoring his calls about Saturday morning beach runs and the memes he sends during the day go unanswered except for the little reactions iPhones let you send. You suppose it’s only fair that he gets to ignore you a little bit too.

Your little charade doesn’t last long, not truly in the grand scheme of things. Bradley doesn’t put up with you skirting his advances for long–he knows what he wants and he’ll be relentless til he gets it. And right now, he’s trying to corner you. 

And you’re weak for him. You should’ve known from the start that you wouldn’t be able to resist him. You can’t even now, even when you’re only getting him in pieces.

It’s not exactly your bravest moment to be hiding slightly behind Phoenix so he can’t see you (if you can’t see him, he can’t see you, right?) while she stares at you with an endlessly amused expression in her eyes. She doesn’t move to expose you, though.

“What’cha doin’?” Her tone is light, but you can tell she means business. 

The two of you are friends yes, but she’s known Bradley for a million times longer. There’s some girl-girl solidarity, but if you were in her shoes, you might have a few bones to pick about potentially throwing Bradley to the wolves on this one. You wonder for a moment if he’s been talking to her about all this, but again, is there even anything to talk about?

“Just uh, trying to see where Hangman’s at?” You sound like you’re asking her a question, and she quirks an eyebrow. 

She stretches the syllables of her next word out, letting it hang in the air, “Right. Even I don’t look at Hangman with that sort of intensity.”

That’s not entirely true, but you don’t really feel like getting into a competition with Phoenix of all people, over who’s looking at whom how. 

“Sweetheart? Can we talk?” 

You’d let Phoenix distract you for just a split second, and there he is, in all his glory. Bradley is beautiful, yes, but he looks tired. His sunny’s are hanging haphazardly from a floral button down that looks like it’s maybe seen better days, and he’s got dark circles marring the perfect tone of his tanned skin. 

This time, Phoenix just side-steps you and lets Bradley into your space. 

His presence is just as affecting there, in the middle of the Hard Deck, as it was the first time you saw him on the beach. Even with how tired he looks, he’s still glowing just slightly in the evening sun.

“Hi, Bradley,” You breathe, not daring to speak louder, as if that would make the moment real. 

You can feel Phoenix’s eyes on you, the way that Bob and Payback are starting to let their attention drift to from the game of pool. This, you don’t want anyone else to be witness to. This is something between just the two of you. You don’t really need the whole world to witness your imminent heartbreak. 

“I don’t want to do this here, is my place okay?” He looks so nervous, as if you’re going to push him away. It’s funny really, what you know is about to happen, and yet he still looks like this is about to break him entirely. 

Nodding, you let him lead you out of the bar. It feels like deja vu, how however many weeks ago you were tracing these exact steps but making your way towards a very different fate. 

The two of you are silent in the Bronco, and Bradley doesn’t bother turning the radio up to belt along to the 80s classic on the radio. Everything feels like you’re underwater, like the world is out of focus. You think you might start crying, but you try and swallow it down, be an adult. 

Pulling into the driveway, it’s silent in the car when he turns the engine off. Neither of you go to get out, but you know you can’t sit here forever. This had to happen at some point, had to come to a close. That doesn’t make getting out of the car and waiting for Bradley to unlock the door any easier, though. 

You toe off your shoes and let him get you a glass of water. Then, you’re standing on opposite sides of his kitchen, the pristine shine of the countertops and appliances making him feel a thousand miles away. You two are usually tumbling in, mouths locked together, or walking in with groceries, prepared to spend a comfortable evening cooking and watching a movie. This is everything coming apart at the seams. 

“Bradley,” You start, not really knowing where you’re going, but just wanting to break the silence.

He looks distraught and your stomach drops with guilt. 

This is your fault. 

He says your name once as he settles back against a countertop, and it hangs in the air between the two of you, til he starts speaking again, “I’ve been trying to figure out where I went wrong, what lines I crossed, and I guess at some point I realized it was all of them. I shouldn't have pushed you, I shouldn’t have–”

“I thought that that was all I could have of you, so I was selfish and I took it.” You say, the words tumbling out of you before you can stop yourself from interrupting him, but still unable to tear your eyes away from him, “But I was hurting you. I still am, and god, Bradley, I’ll make it up to you somehow, I’m so sorry.”

It’s almost funny, really, the way you’ll look back on this moment a year from now and laugh at the way the two of you are talking past each other, unwilling to acknowledge that your deepest desires could be attainable. But for now, all you can feel is the guilt in your veins, your heartbeat pounding your chest. 

“What?” He’d looked at the floor for a moment, but when you finish speaking he’s looking at you intently. “What did you say?”

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and start from the beginning, “I thought that you coming to me, like that, was the only way I could have you. And, and maybe it was me taking advantage because you were sometimes not super sober, but I would never–”

“I was always sober. Every time. I would never do that to you. What do you mean that was the only way you thought you could have me?” Bradley’s standing fully now, not leaning. 

“I thought you drank before, to, y’know, make it tolerable.” You regret the words as soon as you say them, “Sorry, that’s–you’re not that kind of person.”

He smiles ruefully, “I’m still focused on the part about that being the only way you could have me.”

Here it is. 

“I love you, Bradley. And not just as a friend, but more. But I didn’t want to push that on you, and so I thought–”

“You love me?”

A beat.

“Yes.”

Then, he’s laughing in that hysterical way when people are so overcome, the only way it’ll escape them is if they double over in giggles. But he’s trying to compose himself as quickly as he started. 

“I tried to tell you so many times how I felt, I left you all those post-it notes, god, I thought you were seeing them and just didn’t feel the same.”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“The hearts. That’s how I,” He heaves a shuddering breath, his voice thick with unshed tears, “That’s how I told my parents I loved them before I could really write. I was saying it to you every time I left.”

“You love me?” You’re crying now, and he squeezes his eyes shut til tears run down his cheeks too. 

His laugh is bitter but you know that’s not directed at you, “Was the sticky note covered in hearts not clear enough?”

You feel the way your cheeks warm and your stomach churns as you try and defend yourself, “You were thanking me for letting you sleep over?”

At that, he laughs, genuine this time, breaking the sadness that has been building in the air. Finally, he makes his way across the room to you and crowds into your space, wrapping you in his arms and pressing his forehead to yours. His eyes are closed. 

“Sweetheart.” It’s a warning, a plea, and a prayer all in one. “I meant every heart, every I love you, from the very first one I left.”

“I kept them all. In my bedside table.”

Then his lips are on yours. The kiss is salty, reminding you of all the emotion that’s been building for the past few months, every moment you didn’t confess, every moment you assumed the worst, it’s all there. But you don’t want to dwell on that now, now that you’ve heard him say something plucked from your wildest dreams.

“Say it again,” You whisper when his lips leave yours ever so briefly as the two of you are stumbling to the bedroom.

And he does. As he’s undressing you, he says it. He mumbles it against your lips and into your mouth. 

He says it against your bare skin as he presses you into his bed, the sheets smelling like him before he puts on cologne. It’s muffled momentarily by the way he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, but you feel the way his jaw works anyways as you cup his face. You let your legs fall open around him and feel the way he slides his fingers into you.

When he’s pressing into you, he’s saying it. I love you, I love you, I love you.

In those moments between start and finish, when the world falls away and all you know is the warmth of his body against yours, the slight slick of sweat on your skin, that’s when you think you realize that he means it. The motion of his hips is deep and insistent, as if to try and leave a permanent reminder that he was there. 

You’re crying, you realize. And he’s kissing the tears away like it’s the most natural thing in the world, pressing his forehead to yours as his lips keep forming the words. At some point, you’ve started saying them back to him too, choking them out despite everything so that you know that he knows that you love him.

When you finish, it feels like a supernova exploding inside of you. It starts in the center of your body and pushes its way to your fingertips til you’re gasping for air and he fucks you through it. Bradley cums moments later, filling you with his warmth in a way that’s both familiar and still thrilling. 

He rolls gently off you, and you hiss as he slips out. That’ll be a mess to clean up. 

But he’s looking at you, brushing your sweaty hair from your face, and his eyes are shining so brightly that it feels like looking at the sun. You want to look away, but you think that losing your vision in return for staring at the way his eyes crinkle in genuine happiness is well worth the price. 

I love you, he mouths. And you believe him. 

You whisper it back.

tagging: @sebsxphia @roosterbruiser @bradshawburner @gretagerwigsmuse @sometimesanalice @joaquinwhorres @roosterbruiser @roosterforme @bradshawsbitch @seresinsweetie @notroosterbradshaw @genius2050 @peachystenbrough @rhettabbotts @theharddeck @wkndwlff - tagging ppl either by request or whom i feel like are horny for bradley soooo pls let me know if you'd like to be added/removed

#bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #top gun: maverick fanfic #top gun: maverick fanfiction #top gun: maverick #top gun: maverick fic #rooster fanfic #rooster x reader #no use of y/n

[jawspinner96]

Arthur morgan x fem reader smut

This is very lazily written, I was struck with inspiration and wrote this in one night, so no nitpicking!!! Pls ignore any typos or sentences that sound a little off. This is also my first time posing smut so !!!

*******

You had an easy job, it wasn't fun but the money was pretty good. All you had to do was offer "Deluxe baths" to strangers. It wasn't the career you drempt of as a child, but a couple months ago you were desperate for work and the hotel owner was nice enough to give you this job, not only is it good pay but you also got a free room out of it.

You've encountered your fair share of creeps during your time here, but the hotel owner proved to be good backup.

"Just hollar if you need my help ma'am,"

And he was always there to save you if need be. However, it wasn't often people accepted so a lot of your job was spent lazing about or cleaning.

This day was like any other, business was slow and you were sat in the lobby of the hotel, reading. The door swung open and the bell rung out which caught your attention. You looked up from your book and fixed your eyes on a tall, rugged man, around six foot-ish. His features were hidden behind a weathered had and short untidy beard.

"Ma'am." The man nodded your way and walked up to the front desk.

"Sir." You nodded back and Continued reading, peaking over the pages to look at the man's figure from behind. His unbuttoned shirt paired with a leather vest accentuated his waist and drew your eyes to his large arms. You felt your face grow warmer the longer you stared.

"Let me get a bath, and a room for the night." His voice was deep and husky, yet it flowed smoothly and sounded like music to your ears.

"Alright sir, I've got someone heating the bath up for you right now. That'll be a dollar fifty"

You watched the man make his way upstairs towards the bathroom before closing your book and heading to your own room to prepare. You applied lipstick, cleaned up your eyeliner and sorted your hair.

"Want some company mister ?" You knocked lightly on the door and waited for his response. You weren't expecting him to accept your proposal so you were shocked to hear him accept. You became rather nervous and unsure as to why you were suddenly so scared. You had done this many times before but something about this man was intimidating.

Slowly, you opened the door and made your way in. A faint smell of lavender filled the humid room and hot steam, highlighted by the rays of sun peeking through the foggy window, danced freely throughout the air.

He had his arms resting on each side of the tub, and his eyes closed, which made you feel slightly more at ease. You sat on a stool next to the bath, by his head and began to talk.

"You look like you've had a long day," you purposely kept your voice hushed and soft.

"You have no idea." He smiled contently as you wet your hands and began to scrub his scalp tenderly.

"Well... nothin a hot bath can't fix." His hair was rough in your palms and you could feel the weeks of dirt clinging to each strand. Despite this, the man didn't smell at all, Infact a rather pleasant, musky aroma emitted from his body.

You began to let your hands wander, settling on his shoulders. You palmed his skin attempting to soothe the spots you thought might be most sore. He leaned his head back, letting out a long, pleased sigh. You could feel him becoming less tense from your touch and smiled a little to yourself, proud of your work.

"Damn, that feels good," He muttered under his breath as you began to massage his arms. You marvled at the feeling of his large biceps under your fingers. "I don't remember the last time I was this relaxed."

"If you don't mind me asking, what is it that you do out there?"

He opened and eye and looked right at you. For a moment you were nervous, did you ask something offensive? However, you were far too flustered by his heavy eye contact to care.

"That's something I prefer to keep to myself ma'am." You apologised and Continued to wash the stranger.

Sweat trickled down your forehead as you reached further into the water to scrub his abdomen, then his legs. You looked up from the water for a second, you almost had a heart attack as your eyes met with his. He watched intently, as you massaged his calves and rinsed the bubbles from his leg. Both of your faces were flushed from the heat, and the tension that filled the air.

"I reckon that's clean enough ma'am," He lightly grabbed your hand and held it in between his own, "Thank you very much."

His eyes stared right through your own and you felt your cheeks burning up, though you couldnt really read his expression.

"You're very welcome Mr...."

"Morgan, Arthur morgan."

You beamed a smile "Well, you're very welcome Mr Morgan."

Swiftly, you exited the room with your heart thumping in your chest and butterflies swirling in your stomach.

As you headed back to your room you couldn't shake the image of his face from your mind. His tired, squinting eyes, soft lips. His brows were bushy and unkempt along with his beard, however the scruffy and tired appearance only added to his charm. You weren't sure you'd ever seen someone so handsome before. His nose was crooked but fit so harmoniously on his face along with all his other features.

You recalled what his skin felt like against yours as you sat on your window sil and day dreamed of his muscular frame and chestnut hair.

*******

"Can I interest you in some tea?" Another part of your job was to ensure the happiness of paying customers and to provide the best service you could.

This meant going round and offering tea to those who were staying the night, sometimes you provided them with dinner if you were feeling generous enough to cook a big batch of food that day.

"Sure, come in." Instantly, you recognised the voice coming from the other side of the door. You heart picked up it's pace as you fumbled with the door knob, all while keeping an eye on your tray of tea.

You entered the room to see Arthur sat on the bed, the setting sun resting perfectly on his face. His hat from before was no where to be seen allowing you to see all his features. Messy strands of hair lay perfectly on his face, framing his eyes and Chisled jaw. You couldn't help but admire the sight, a slight blush forming on your cheeks.

"Here ya'are Mr Morgan," You placed a cup of tea on the side table and put the now empty tray under your arm.

"Call me Arthur." He smiled at you as he took a sip of the hot beverage, "I was hopin I'd see you again ma'am."

"Is that right?" A smirk creeped upon your face and you felt those Butterflies from before beginning to awake in your stomach. You playfully responded, "Well i'm glad you enjoyed My services so much Mr Mo- Arthur."

A laugh escaped his nose and he looked down to take another sip of tea.

"Well, I'll be on my way now. Hollar at me if you need anythin'." Nervously, You turned on your heel and made your way to the door before Arthur spoke up again.

"Wait," you stopped in your tracks and turned to face Arthur who was now making his way towards you. The speed of your heart rate picked you thought it'd jump out of your chest and ran away if it could.

Arthur stopped, just meer centimetres away. He towered over you causing a confusing mixture of emotions, your head was spinning.

His eyes scanned your face, your quivering lips and eyes, which darted frantically around the room, avoiding any sort of eye contact. You swallowed as his eyes wandered to your lips. His mouth parted slightly and his breath grew heavier before he began to speak again.

"Am i scaring you, miss?" His voice seemed sweet, filled with concern though you couldn't help but notice sinister undertone in the way he spoke.

You plucked up the courage to look him in his eye before responding, "No.."

You were unsure of your own answer amd he could tell. He smiled slightly at that, hesitantly rasing a hand to your chin, "Would you mind if I.."

His lips parted further as they searched for your own, your eyes fluttering shut as you both made contact. His free hand snaked around your waist as you reached up around his neck, causing you to drop the tea tray on the floor.

He pulled away for a second, gazing into your eyes as his hand held the side of your cheek. Your heart pounded, and you longed to kiss him again. How was this stranger making you feel this way?

You brought him back in for another kiss, this time you were hungry for it and he was too. You moved together rhythmically and passionately. Your bodies backed up aggressively against the bedroom door, slamming it shut.

A gasp left your mouth, as he removed your hands from his neck and pinned them both at either side of your head against the door. The sudden movement made you knees grow weeker and you felt yourself buckling underneath him.

He was strong, you couldn't escape his grip if you tried, not that you wanted to. He raised both your arms above your head and held your wrists in place with one hand.

His free hand began to explore your body, cupping a breast through your blouse. You could feel the smirk on his lips as a slight moan left your mouth.

His hand travelled further down, to your skirt, and he began to lift up the fabric to reach your thigh from underneath.

You could already feel yourself becoming increasingly wetter, and the sensation of his rough palms groping your skin made you only more aroused. His fingers moved further up to your panties and he began to tease your clit through your soaked underwear, forcing a pathetic whine from your lips.

"Damn girl," He laughed a husky laugh mockingly "I've bearly touched you."

Your cunt ached as you squeezed your legs together while he continued to play with your clit, using his thumb to rub painfully slow circles around it.

"F-fuck..." You found yourself unable to say anything in response only growing weaker to his touch.

His fingers hooked against your underwear and slowly he began to pull them down your legs, while he brought your mouth to his for another kiss, his tongue intertwining with yours.

His hand palmed your pussy while the other continued to hold you in place. You squirmed as he slid two fingers into your cunt and began to slowly pump them in and out of you.

Lewd noises filled the room as he fucked you relentlessly with his fingers. Eventually, he let go of your wrists, causing you to collapse against his chest while he continued to play with your cunt. He rested his free hand On the small of your back, keeping you close to him.

You moans grew louder as you found yourself closer to climax. He stopped moving abruptly, which made you cry out a little. He chuckled slightly as you began to grind against his fingers, desperately needing to cum.

"Easy girl..." You buried your head in his chest as he once again began to move his fingers in that same rhythm that had brought you so close to orgasm before.

You eyes rolled back and you squeezed your hands into fists against his body, unsure of what to do with yourself as he continued to pump in and out of you mercilessly.

Eventually the coil in your stomach snapped and you found yourself spasming around his fingers. Your legs shook as you came into the palm of his hand, your vision went white and all comprehansive thoughts in your head had vanished. You moaned his name, loudly, sqeezing your eyes shut as he guided you through your orgasm. He removed his hand from under you skirt and let go of you, causing you you to collapse on the ground.

"Damn, your pathetic," He laughed at your feeble position and you had never felt so vulnerable, humiliated or turned on. "Don't worry girl, we ain't finished."

You panted on the floor as he stood over you. You couldn't believe what had just happened. Arthur had seemed so sweet before, but now it seemed he was getting off on your neediness.

You looked up and watched as he began to unzip his pants and pull out his cock. The size made you a little nervous but you could already feel yourself getting wetter by the second. You rose on your knees and looked up at Arthur. With both hands you grabbed the base of his dick and parted your lips. Your tongue swirled around the tip and you could already taste the precum dripping from him.

"Atta girl," arthur praised your eagerness as you began to move your hands rhythmically up and down his shaft, your tongue focusing on the most sensitive areas.

A satisfied groan left Arthur's mouth as you took him deeper into your mouth. You could feel the veins that ran along his length as your tongue glided along his skin.

You looked up at his face, watching it contort in pleasure. You watched as his mouth hung open, heavy breaths and cuss words escaping from his lips. His brows furrowed when he grew impatient and his hands found their way to the back of your head, gripping strands of hair and shoving his cock deeper down your throat, making you gag.

Quickly, and uncaring of how you felt, Arthur continued to use your throat as a his personal fuck toy. His dick twitched as you choked on his size and struggled to cope with his harsh thrusts.

"Fuck.." Arthur let a low growl as thrusted himself deeply in your mouth one last time. Thick spurts of semen dripped down your throat and from the corners of your mouth. He removed his cock from your mouth, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip. With one hand he wiped the cum from your lips and with the other he pulled back you head, forcing you to look at him. "How'd that taste girl?"

You found yourself unable to respond, you weren't to sure what you were even supposed to say. Arthur zipped up his trousers and crouched to your level, taking your chin in-between his index and thumb. You marvled at his reddend cheeks and the sweat that glistend on his forehead, unable to think clearly.

Your lips remained parted as you stared at him. Your cunt ached for him, begging to be filled.

"You look so desperate," he teased. You swallowed your shame and averted your gaze from his.

You could feel yourself becoming wetter just from his words and began leaning in closer, a desperate attempt to beg for more all while your lips were sealed.

"Guess that's too bad," He let go of you abruptly and stood up leading you to awkwardly do the same.

"W-wait.." all you could muster up was a weak stutter. You were honestly offended but weren't sure if you could be. You didnt know this man and he didnt know you. Something that should be intimate wasn't intimate at all. Sure, you'd given him a bath but that was paid for and professional. This? This was no where near the same thing. "I-is that it?"

Arthur laughed. "What? You ain't had enough yet?"

The disappointment was more that noticable on your face. Arthur didn't say anything else, just laughed. He leaned close and reached behind you, opening the door to the hallway.

"Sorry girl, don't wanna overstay your welcome."

And as quickly as you entered, you had been shooed out. Without your tea tray. Your mind was running and you couldn't think, all you could do was make your way back to your room in a daze.

Your hair was a mess and your skin was reddened; still glistening with sweat. you lay on your bed, frustrated. Why didn't you go back and demand him to get the fuck out? Or at least ask for your tray back? Why did you even let him use your body like that in the first place?

Shame washed over you, you were unable to sleep that night. You couldn't help but wonder if he had gone all the way with you, you wouldn't be as pissed off as you were. A small part of you wanted to see him again.

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #smut #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption arthur #writing

[lolasimms]

hcs about your married life with abby pls 🙇🏽‍♀️

wife abby headcanons pt.1

part 2 part 3

౨ৎ she’s an early bird and is almost always up at 6 am.

౨ৎ starts her morning off with cuddling you and then she’s off to the gym.

౨ৎ you wake up to an empty bed most mornings which usually you rant to her about.

౨ৎ your breakfast is usually simple, overnight oats and fruit, which she bullies you for.

౨ৎ she on the other hand insists on eating a high protein breakfast, for “gains”.

౨ৎ she’s a certified gym rat, which you find super hot.

౨ৎ when you’re really horny she takes pre-workout to make sure her stamina is up for you.

౨ৎ this usually leaves you saddle sore and aching for the next two days

౨ৎ she gets off on your overly domestic nature, especially when you take care of her.

౨ৎ if she’s got a cold or a throat infection you always pamper her and insist on feeding her soups and tea.

౨ৎ most weekends are spent lounging around the house as she’s not a very social person, neither are you.

౨ৎ some weekends are also spent at her father, Jerry’s place.

౨ৎ the three of you make dinners, play board games and he loves breaking out the photo album to embarrass her.

౨ৎ she earns a lot (she’s a doctor) so she’s always spoiling you.

౨ৎ loves to wine and dine you, especially when you both have time off work.

౨ৎ she can only cook staple meals, so she’s always impressed by the food you make for her.

౨ৎ she tends to overwork herself and usually comes back home tired.

౨ৎ despite the fact that she comes home exhausted she still insists on pleasing you.

୨୧

“Abs we shouldn’t, you just got off a 12 hour shift, you need to rest.” You press your wife but she’s ignoring you and pulling you into her.

“Doesn’t matter baby, I’m perfectly fine. Need to please my wife, you know what they say.” Both her hands are griping your thighs and pulling you towards the end of the bed.

“What do they say?” You question, accepting defeat, and allowing her to manhandle you.

“Happy wife, happy life.” In one quick motion, she’s tugged your pyjama shorts, along with your underwear off.

“What if you fall asleep mid eating pussy and I crush you to death?”

“Trust me baby, death by your pussy would probably be the best way for me to die.”

You tried scooching up toward the pillows , but Abby’s hands had a tight grip on your thighs. She wasn't going to let you get away. You were all the way at the end of bed now with her head in between your legs. She was tasting every bit of you, nibbling and marking you up. Your hands made their way to her hair, grabbing handfuls as her tongue swiped over your clit. All feelings of exhaustion from her taxing 12 hour shift were thrown out the window once she got to taste you, and you were fucking enjoying it.

You gasped. "Mmm...Abs..." Abby was loving every minute as she lapped you up. She pulled you closer, practically burying her face in your pussy. Your moans only added fuel to the fire burning inside of her. She was sucking your clit now and you could hear how wet you were for her. As she worked your cunt, two of her fingers were deep inside of you, fucking you for all you were worth and drawing a whimper from your throat. She was so fucking enthusiastic about eating your pussy and damn good at it too.

"Fuck, you taste so sweet." She panted, her breath like fire against your skin. "Gonna make you cum for me."

୨୧

౨ৎ The two of you love watching tv shows together, though she has a habit of not paying attention.

౨ৎ You’ll be well into a show and she’ll be wondering where a certain character went, when they got killed off like 5 episodes ago.

౨ৎ Falls asleep in your lap while you’re watching movies and shows because the poor thing works so hard.

౨ৎ Your name in her phone is ‘wifey’

౨ৎ Once again, she loves to spoil you, against your will of-course.

౨ৎ Buys you things if you look at them for even a second too long.

౨ৎ Her anniversary presents are always the best.

౨ৎ She insists that you don’t buy her stuff simply because you being her wife is enough.

౨ৎ On your 5 year wedding anniversary you open a box that has a pregnancy test in it, as you’d been discussing having children.

#female reader x abby anderson #abby anderson fluff #wife abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson #abby anderson fic #reader x abby anderson

[mandoalorian]

tolerate it [javi peña x gn!reader]

“I made you my temple, my mural, my sky…” 

Warnings: this is not nice, I'm sorry. This is pure, unadulterated angst. Based on the song tolerate it and You’re Losing Me by Miss Swift herself.  Word count: 2000approx. Author’s note: one thing about me is I come back every 6 months, drop a one-shot, and then leave again. Was feeling a bit of seasonal depression today. I don’t enjoy fall as much as the rest of the world, it seems, but here is an autumnal fic to get your spirits going. Masterlist Ko-fi

Fall.

Two take-out cups of piping hot Colombian ground coffee warming up your bare hands, because you thought it was too early for gloves, and the trees standing naked and tall with crusty red leaves blanketing the damp ground beneath your chunky boots. Holding the newspaper in the crook of your elbow, you sigh as you feel rain begin to fall from the grey clouds above. You pick up the pace, striding through the swarms of busy people doing their seasonal shopping, just wanting to get back home dry.

Your wishes weren’t commanded and you stumbled through the front door of your townhouse sopping wet, hair stuck to your face and mascara now three inches down your cheeks. You put the coffee cups on the dining room table along with the newspaper and took off your coat. At some point, Javier came in and sat down at the table. His fingers pinched at the corners of the paper. The pages were ripped and wet and the ink was bleeding into an incoherent smudge on the front page. Javier opened the lid of his coffee and took a sip before immediately scrunching up his face and putting it back on the table. You turned to face your partner, only to be met with his lips curled into a frown and his brows furrowed together in disdain. You looked at him, helpless and apologetic.

“What’s wrong now?” You huffed, searching for answers in his empty brown eyes. You were tired of asking the question.

“It’s cold,” He muttered, his eyes not leaving yours as he awaited an explanation like he was owed it. His words are blunt and sharp but you have no choice other than to take his indiscretions on your shoulder.

But instead, you offered him nothing short of a scoff as you emptied the pools of water from your boots.  The storm outside was loud and persisted with long wails and cries. In silence, you sat next to Javier at the table, and in spite, drank your cold coffee.

After a few moments, you smiled to yourself, wanting to lighten the mood and remembering something that you had seen on television a few days ago. “You know, in California, iced coffee is a thing? Yeah, that’s how they prefer to drink it over there.”

Javier grunted in acknowledgement, leaning back on his chair and folding his arms over his chest.

Your eyes flicked between the oak wood dining table, and the way you had set it so beautifully with your fancy China and centrepiece. The empty vase waiting for a fresh bunch of flowers stood tall and was gleaming after you’d spent a good chunk of your day cleaning and polishing it. A single, pumpkin-scented candle flickered in between you and Javier, your gaze fixated on the dancing ember. Finally, you looked back at Javier, who was taking shallow breaths as he awaited you to pay him attention.

When you fail to do so, it causes a problem. “I have to get to the office,” he announced after a few minutes of silence. 

“But it’s a Saturday,” you replied. Ever since Javier got his big promotion, it meant he could do fewer hours and stop working weekends. He hadn’t gone to the office on a Saturday in nearly two years. Javier stood up and put on his leather jacket, the same one he’d kept from the 70s. He still rocked it, of course, but in this climate, it just wasn’t smart. “You’re going to need something warmer than that jacket, you’ll freeze to death.”

You stood up, your chair scraping against the floor, and went to walk to the bedroom, finding a coat for Javier to wear. You picked one out that you knew he hated. It was long and plaid and not his style at all, too ‘modern’, he called it, but it was the only thing that would stop him from catching a cold. You grabbed a pair of gloves and a scarf and walked back out, following him into the hallway. He waited for you and stood leaning against the door frame, looking at the outside world ahead of him.

Sure enough, the storm had cleared up in a matter of minutes and golden rays of sunlight peeked through the now white clouds. Your heart fell, deflated when Javier refused to wear the coat and the scarf you’d picked out for him. 

“The gloves, at least,” you begged him, your eyes wide and glazed with unshed tears that you didn’t realise you were holding back. The air was thick with flaws and indecisions. Javier felt a pang of guilt in his heart when he read your expression and took the gloves from you, shoving them in his jacket pocket, a silent promise that he might just put them on later if he remembered.

“Will you be home for dinner?” You asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” you nodded. Javier placed a chaste kiss atop your head. “I love you.” You promised him, but the words were lost on him.

“See you later,” he replied, before pulling away and walking over to his truck. 

You’d normally watch him get in and drive away but this time, you shut the door before he even stepped off the patio and sauntered into the living room where you slouched onto the couch, hung your head low and closed your eyes. Darkness. You wondered how long you could keep fighting this. You were so tired of giving your all, only to be met with so little appreciation back. What was once the richest of love had turned cold and empty. You gave him endless empathy and he was killing you. 

Javier pulled up outside of Luna Azul, his favourite bar. He hated this. He didn’t like lying to you, but he just needed to get away. He pulled out a cigarette and rested it between his lips, pushing the front door open and immediately taking a seat at the bar. Lighting the cigarette, he took a deep inhale of the nicotine, letting it sting his throat before exhaling. He loved you, he really did. He didn’t remember a point in time when things shifted, he didn’t understand why things had changed so much. You were still his person, his soulmate, he knew he’d never find anyone else like you, but there was just something missing.

“Hey Javi, why the sad face?” Elza, the barmaid asked, already pouring him a whiskey on the rocks, his usual order. “Did someone die?”

Javier feigned a smile before downing his drink. “Rough day.”

“Ah,” Elza said softly. “Trouble in paradise?”

The words made Javier wince. He gestured for another drink, of which Elza promptly poured him. “I guess.”

“I’m sorry to hear that Javi,” Elza frowned. “You deserve better.”

Javi’s frown deepened. He swirled the whiskey as he processed Elza’s words. He really didn’t believe that he deserved better, Hell,  he barely believed that he deserved you, and you were more than good enough. You were perfect. 

And suddenly, for Javier, it all made sense. He was damaged goods. All those years in the DEA, fighting in a war… that’s what had changed Javier. The years of trauma that he’d never confronted… never got help for. He had hidden his feelings, fought his nightmares and pretended like they didn’t bother him. He’d come this far, he wasn’t scared… he couldn’t be scared, he wasn’t allowed to be scared. He had to be strong, brave, get over it. Javier downed his second whiskey, his skin getting white hot as realization gushed over him. Elza filled his glass up with a third, watching the agent intently.

You weren’t the one who changed, he was, and it took him this long to realise. It was all becoming so clear now, how hard you had been trying and how he hadn’t even said ‘I love you’ in six months. Javier’s stomach was in knots, he didn’t know how or why you’d stayed this long when he had given you nothing in return for your efforts. Impulsively, Javier downed the third whiskey. 

Something had to change. He had to change—get better. He knew now that was the only thing that would fix the relationship he’d been taking for granted. He had to go home and apologise. He had to make things right before it was too late. Javier stubbed out the butt of the cigarette and stood up abruptly, only to be met with ruby-red lips crashing down on his hard. Teeth biting down on Javier’s lower lip, Javier let out a small groan. He hadn’t been kissed in so long. But these weren’t your soft, sweet lips. Javier pulled away, eyes widening when he saw Elza standing in front of him with a smirk.

Javier rubbed at his lips in an attempt to wipe away any traces of infidelity. This is not what he wanted or needed right now. He had to get home and fast. Without sparing a single word to Elza, Javier dived out the door and jumped into his pickup truck.

Grey clouds gathered outside as Javier jogged up the driveway, an indication of another storm. You were cooking when Javier arrived home. You were so surprised to hear the front door open as he’d only been gone for half an hour or so. You’d been thinking hard and decided that if tonight wasn’t any different than previous nights then that would be it. You'd be out the door.  The thought of it was soul-crushing because you wanted to marry this man. But you couldn’t take it anymore. Fighting with all your strength and might only to be ignored.

“Hermosa,” Javier greeted, exasperated and breathless. If your eyes weren’t immediately drawn to the remnants of red lipstick on his lips, you might have noticed his tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes. He’d been crying all the way home, crying for being so stupid and reckless for all these months, for not taking care of himself, but most importantly, not taking care of you.

Your heart plummeted in your chest and you dropped the wooden spoon that was in your hands. It clattered on the floor, the noise making Javier jump, but you stood there, still and unwavering. Silent tears began to stream down your cheeks and you couldn’t strain your gaze away from your boyfriend who was smelling thick of alcohol and had another woman’s lipstick on his face. That was it.

He had dealt his final blow.

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

its been years since I've redone my masterlist so im starting again from scratch. if you see this and want to be added, let me know.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #javier peña #javi peña #javier peña x reader #narcos #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

[sarahs-secrets2]

Tread Carefully (Phillip Graves x Reader) 18+ ࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

Am I switching to my gif era omg (I literally don't know what I'm doing how does this work)

I genuinely am so tired, like its so bad, I wanted to put something out tonight for yall tho so enjoy this, the long-awaited pt 2 will be out tomorrow (pls don't hate me I can't even type properly I am so tired, writing this was a battle loll), the sleep delusions wrote this so bare with me, pls lmk if there are typos

Based on Tread Carefully by SZA

gn! (no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 620

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, sexual tension, swearing, slight NSFW, adult themes, pet names (if I forgot something pls lmk)

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

Falling for Phillip Graves was a slippery slope, one second he shoots you a wink, and the next you end up tangled in his sheets asking yourself how you got here. The early morning crept through his room as you attempted to hide from the streaks of sun bouncing off the walls. Lightly pulling the blanket off you were about to sneak out of bed. Before you got a chance a strong arm reached around your waist pulling you back in. 

“Too early doll, stay here with me”, Phillip whispered as he placed a small kiss on your neck. 

“I have things to do today, I can't be here all day,” you protested, however, you reluctantly let the commander continue to shower you with kisses.

“Shhh, go back to sleep”, he muttered in between kisses, his eyes remaining closed. It was hard to say no to the handsome man next to you as you laid back down, thinking of how you ended up here. 

It had become customary to go out to the bar with the Shadows after a mission, a way to unwind. Graves rarely joined, as much as he loved his liquor, he spent most of his time preparing for the next mission. This time he finally decided to join the company out at the shitty dive bar. Maybe it was just a coincidence but in the weeks prior you and the commander had been sharing more looks and flirtatious jabs than usual, and now here he was paying for your drink. 

Something about Phillip had always pulled you in, he was quite charming or cocky, whatever it was, it was attractive. He oozed confidence and it made it all the easier to fall for him. 

“You did good today, you deserve it”, Graves handed you the drink he had just paid for, as he smiled.

“Couldn't have done it without you though” you smiled back as you slightly raised your glass to “cheers” with his. He stepped towards you, closing the small space between the both of you. Having Phillip Graves this close wasn't something you were used to, his hand crept down to stroke your arm as he went on about the day's events. His voice was muffled in your ears as you were too focused on the fiery touch on your arm. 

“Hello? Ya there?” he waved his drink in front of your face trying to get your attention back to the conversation at hand. 

Your voice now caught in your throat, letting out a small cough in an attempt to gain your composure, “Yeah, sorry, just distracted”,

“Bout what?” he inquired, “Music too loud in here? Too crowded? What is it?” as he went on his hand moved from your arm to your waist pulling you closer so you could hear him clearly. 

“You, you’re distracting me” looking up at him finally

“Me?” he smirked “Whaddya mean darlin’”

“I think you’re well aware of what you're doing here Phillip,” you slightly nodded at him as you took a sip of your drink

“And what would be wrong with that?” he tested the waters to see where you were at, “I think we both know what we want here” 

“Tread carefully Commander” 

“You first sweetheart” he chuckled as he shot a wink your way. 

Your idea of “treading carefully” has resulted in ending up somehow making out in the back of a cab, which then led to being in Phillip’s room. A sense of urgency rose between the two of you fighting for dominance, neither of you willing to be the first to give it up. Graves finally relinquished his power allowing you to tread carefully until you were on top of him.

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

It's 4am when I'm posting this and I'm going to sleep till noon, see you all then

#Spotify #phillip graves #phillip graves cod #phillip graves x reader #philip graves x reader #warren kole #cod mw2

[thursdayygrrrl]

hairstyles and revelations

⌦ .｡.:*♡

characters: cassie howard x gn!reader (they have hair long enough to style)

genre: very very very slight angst if you squint, mostly fluff, kinda idiots in love, first kiss

summary/excerpt: Maddy, Kat, and BB were supposed to be there but they all ditched. Maddy said she was going to be with Nate (which you thought was a lie since you all knew they weren’t on speaking terms at the moment, but you just let her go anyway because you didn’t want to put up with a fight). Kat said she had “things to do” and didn’t elaborate further while BB just ghosted. Leaving you and Cassie alone.

word count: 2,011

a/n: idk how to feel abt this ole draft but i thought it wouldn’t hurt to post since someone might wanna read it. also, the title sucks, it’s a bit self-indulgent, and it isn’t proofread (english isn't really my first language pls bear with me) so... don’t expect too much but happy reading anyways!

You and Cassie were in your room and you were nervous out of your mind. You had a small crush on her when you first met, but you were sure it was a superficial attraction solely based on looks. Once you spent more time with these girls, you weren’t quite sure if your crush on the blonde was still superficial. You could tell by your heartbeat and the million thoughts that were flooding your head.

One does not get this nervous when hanging out with a friend. Or at least a friend who you were pretty sure you were good at faking your feelings in front of.

Maddy, Kat, and BB were supposed to be there but they all ditched. Maddy said she was going to be with Nate (which you thought was a lie since you all knew they weren’t on speaking terms at the moment, but you just let her go anyway because you didn’t want to put up with a fight). Kat said she had “things to do” and didn’t elaborate further while BB just ghosted. Leaving you and Cassie alone.

When you hung out with her, it was always in a group setting. You thought she had discovered your crush on her and didn’t want to be around you alone because it made her uncomfortable.

You got the memo. It’s happened before, with your former “friends”.

You let that thought pass while scrolling through Netflix, trying to choose a movie to watch. She took in your room through her eyes. You didn’t know it, but she was trying to capture every tiny detail of you. Every poster up on your walls, every trinket on your bedside table, every book on your shelves. She wanted to know more than just the surface, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask you. Instead, she settled with silently admiring you from afar.

You position yourself and the laptop on your bed and finally clicked play on something.

When she hears it start playing, she makes her way over and sits next to you. You hand her a pillow while she asks you a question.

“What are we watching, Y/N?” 

“Bodies Bodies Bodies.” 

“Cool.” 

She nods. Both of you are unsure what to do now, so you let the movie fill the awkward silence that took over. You decide to calm down. Or at least try your best to do so. With that, you let yourself pay full attention to the movie despite having already seen it before. 

You don’t notice Cassie catching glimpses of you. She takes in your eyes, the curve of your cheek, the pinkness of your lips, and your silky hair. Specifically, the way it lays and flows, how you unconsciously play with it, and how you never seem to do anything with it. The most “done-up” your hair had ever been, at least to her, was during the winter formal. It was curled, made to frame your face. Simple, understated, and perfect. She couldn’t look away from you that night, and neither can she now.

When the movie hits a lull, you finally look at Cassie, only to catch her staring right at you.

“Woah, why are we… Do I have something on my face?” 

“Um, no, I was just—just looking at you.” 

She sounds flustered as she looks away, averting her gaze from you to your sheets

“Okay. May I ask why?” 

“It’s just, I think your hair looks good like all the time.” 

“Oh. Tha—” 

You didn’t know she paid that much attention to you. 

She cuts you off. A habit of hers you’ve grown fond of.

“Not saying that you should always be styling it or whatever. You should do what makes you comfortable and all but,” She hesitates. “I can’t help but think of braiding it.” 

“Huh?” 

“You know those braids we have during pep rallies and games? I do those and I wanna see what they look like on you.” 

You knew, you even saw her do Maddy’s hair before these events. Some of those braids looked intricate. You vividly remember thinking that Cassie was good with her hands. 

God, you need to get your mind out of the gutter. 

The thought of her hands running through your hair always seemed enticing. You’ll admit you fantasized about it sometimes. Maybe this would be a good way to grow closer to her. And, let’s be honest, you couldn’t say no to her.

“Sure, let me get a comb and some elastics.” 

You got up to find these items and sat in the middle of your bed once you had them. You rested your hands between your thighs, unsure of what to do with them now that you placed the supplies beside you. The mattress dipped as Cassie positioned herself behind you, on her knees to get a better view of the top of your head. She combed your hair to get rid of any tangles and parted it down the middle with gentle fingers. Then she got to work, setting aside the left portion of your hair to work with the right one first. You began to speak, letting the dialogue of the movie serve as background noise.

“I like hanging out with you, Cassie.” 

“Me too, Y/N. Thanks for having me over even without the others.” 

You waved her off to indicate that she didn’t have to thank you. 

“Are you liking the movie?” 

In truth, Cassie was only paying attention to you.

“I am! I love Alice.” 

“She’s so funny, I love her!” 

Another silence, save for the movie. You decide to speak up again.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Why is it that we—um, we never hang out? Like just the two of us?” 

She doesn’t respond.

Shit. Fuck, shit, motherfucking shit. 

Sometimes, you really should think harder before speaking.

“Sorry. I don’t know why I asked you that. I—fuck, um.” 

You swore under your breath. It was all you could think to say. She snaps you out of yourself.

“Hey, no. It’s okay.” 

She pauses, takes a breath, and continues.

“You never asked before. And I thought you didn’t like me so I didn’t wanna force myself on you.” 

The thought of Cassie thinking you didn’t like her made you want to vomit. Because the truth was that you liked her so much, it made you want to scream. To fall off a balcony. To hit something with a baseball bat. To do stupid, cheesy, romantic things that she always wanted from whatever guy she was seeing. Stuff like posting each other on your Instagram stories, wearing matching outfits, calling each other “honeybunch” or some other cringe-worthy pet name.

“What?” 

You asked exaggeratedly, dragging out the last syllable like a sitcom character caught in a lie, in a vain attempt to disguise the nervousness in your voice. 

“Remember when we first met? I asked you what your name was and it took you. like, a full minute to respond. And the last time we were all together at Kat’s house, you didn’t wanna sit beside me even if it was the only spot left. And it’s not like we talk outside of the group all that much.” 

You were grateful that you weren’t face-to-face with her at that moment because your eyes were freakishly wide. You didn’t realize that she noticed how you avoided her and how awkward you were around her. Regaining some composure, you mumbled.

“Thought you wouldn’t notice that.” 

“Well, I did.” 

Against all better judgment, you decided to just tell her and get it over with. People take risks all the time. You convince yourself that another one wouldn’t hurt. You unconsciously brace yourself for whatever’s about to happen.

“I like you, Cassie.” 

“Yeah, I know. You already said that, Y/N.” 

She says. You can hear the slight smirk in her voice, which will always be one of your favorite sounds. 

“No, I said I like hanging out with you. What I mean now is that—is I like like you. As in I have a crush on you.” 

Cassie’s fingers stop moving. You thought your question was bad? Now you think you’ve gone too far, that you were too blunt, that you fucked up yet another friendship all because you caught feelings. She could rip your hair off your scalp and you wouldn’t blame her.

The silence from her was unbearable. You tried to pivot, moving to face her, but she held you still. Her grip on your hair remained firm, not allowing you to turn around.

“Wait, don’t move. I don’t wanna have to redo this.” 

“But—” 

She interrupts you again. Using your words, she confesses. The words come out in a whisper.

“I like like you too, Y/N.” 

Now, it’s your turn to fall silent. You blink dumbfoundedly as it sinks in. 

“Wait. You—you’re lying.” 

She finishes up, securing your hair neatly with an elastic. You could feel the slight pressure on your scalp. Cassie moves her hands to the other side. 

How is she still so calm about this? 

"I’m not! I really do like you. And that’s why I respected your decision to not be with me outside of the group.” 

“The only reason I didn’t make moves to talk or hang out with just you is because I thought you already knew I had a thing for you and you got weirded out or something!” 

She couldn’t help but laugh at the incredulity of your shared predicament, especially at all the awkwardness the two of you could have avoided if only one of you were brave enough to have confessed earlier. You joined her in this laughter.

“What?” She asks, puzzled and in between giggles. “There’s no way I’d ever get weirded out by you, Y/N. I thought you would be the one weirded out by me. The dumb blonde cheerleader…” She trails off.

“Oh, god, no! There’s no way I ever thought that about you, Cassie. I mean, you’re—you’re thoughtful, attentive, smart, funny…”

She tried to stop herself from smiling so wide while she fussed with your hair. You trail off.

What was that word again? 

“You’re ethereal,” you whispered.

Found it.

She had heard all sorts of words from guys before, but it never felt real. It was as if they were reading from a script. But hearing it from you was the only way it felt genuine. She could tell you were speaking from the heart. You made her feel seen.

The absence of her fingers was your cue to turn around. Once you do, the both of you bashfully avoid each other’s eye contact. 

The air felt charged, You knew you had to do something, anything, so you begin to tilt your face to see her. But she cuts you off. Her lips crash into yours in a messy but passionate kiss.

This must be a dream.

Your right hand rests on her thigh as the other one pinches your own. The sensation serves to prove that this is, in fact, not a dream.

She keeps going, the desperation in her movements almost like a plea to explore you. You allow her to take the lead. She loosely wraps her arms around your neck while yours are now around her waist. She pulls away, both of you breathing heavily and warm all over. She whispers.

“I’ve wanted to do that for the longest time, Y/N.”

You look into her eyes, pleadingly, for a sign that this is real.

You look and all you can see is the love she has for you. It’s practically pouring out of her. You hope she sees the same from you because, by god, you feel it bursting through you. She continues.

“I’m so glad we’re friends but I’d be lying if I told you that I want us to stay like that. Just friends.”

This time, you beat her to it.

“If you’re asking me to be with you, Cass, then my answer is yes. It will always be yes.”

#ky writes! #oneshot #fanfic #euphoria #euphoria oneshot #euphoria fanfic #cassie howard #cassie howard x reader #cassie x reader #cassie x you

[pokemenlovingmen]

I've come on my hands and knees begging for some reader loving on some autistic submas, just a reader that loves these boys with all the quirks and hyper fixations included. A reader who understands the need to shake of that excess energy with some good hand flapping and loves to listen to hour long rants about the boys special interests (especially Ingo, that man WILL go on for hours if you let him, bb pls breath)

- 🐗 anon

PLEASE??? I need more positivity loving autism for autism, the good, the bad and the ugly. Sorry if these are a little short, I feel like a lot of headcanons here can overlap so I tried to find the specifics that I could.

Submas with male reader who loves their autistic traits!

Emmet

⚪ - He's happy you never force him to talk! Emmet goes nonverbal pretty frequently, not to say he doesn't want to talk. He wishes he was as verbose as his brother, because he does have a lot to say, but oh well. You always make him feel heard even if he isn't actually making any noise!

⚪ - If you live with him, things might be a little disorganized. He's more of a tactile stimmer and he'll do it with anything. If it isn't nailed down, he'll probably pick it up and start fiddling with it. Don't leave tools out. Usually he'll put those things down himself, though, shaking his head and saying "I am Emmet. And you need to keep this hammer away from me."

⚪ - You're all ears on the rare occasion he does talk a lot, which in a way only excites him more. He talks more and more the progressively more excited he gets and only gets more excited when he glances your way and sees you actually paying attention to him!

⚪ - If you are also an autistic or just generally stimmy person, you'll stim together! If he sees you stimming he'll start too. You're excited, why shouldn't he be, too?

⚪ - The number one most sympathetic person if you also go nv on him. He affords you every ounce of the kindness and respect you give him.

⚪ - He also just appreciates that you like him. Fact of the matter is, you really have to look a certain way, have certain interests, to be an autistic person afforded any respect and kindness. Emmet, and his brother too, neither of them are what people consider "cute" autistic people. He's a white-haired grown man in an elaborate costume with a cheshire smile and bizarre speech patterns. He expects not to be liked, expects not to be taken seriously, but you treat him as an equal and that matters. A lot.

⚪ - You never infantilize him and he's so grateful. Sometimes you need to slow things down in certain areas for him, or ask him to slow down in other spots, and you're always polite about it. You never speak for him, always ask first, and most importantly to Emmet, you never assume he doesn't understand things. He couldn't be happier with a man like you.

Ingo

⚫- You listen to him? You listen to him!! He talks so much, people often check out. But you listen! He's over the moon when you ask him questions about the subways or his favorite Pokemon he's been talking about, because that not only means you're listening, but that you're interested! Questions are his love language, strange as it is, but those tell him what he's saying to you matters.

⚫- He's more prone to external meltdowns than his brother. And you have his constant gratitude for never being embarrassed about him, you swiftly escort him out of places of high stress and are there as he decompresses.

⚫- Ingo is really thankful you don't have any expectations on him to react or even just emote certain ways. Pretty much all of the autistic flat effect got heaped on him and he's spent a lot of time, and I mean a lot of time, stressing about reacting the right way or feeling self conscious about how he's always frowning and people can't tell what he's thinking. But you know Ingo enough to know when he's happy even if his face doesn't say it.

⚫- I think generally he worries he embarrasses you, maybe with his behavior, or his looks, or the way he talks. That being said he always lights up when you reassure him of the contrary. Especially for someone who interacts with so many people on a day-to-day basis, he gets anxious that he looks unapproachable or even a bit ugly, so it means the world to him when you tell him you love his quirky little catlike frown, or the ways his eyes just shine when he's excited even if not much else changes facially.

⚫- Between him and his brother, I think Ingo concerned himself a lot more with masking. Both of them did it, of course, but Emmet is both more confident and he also has the image of "the happy one", so Ingo feels particularly self conscious about his stims. He doesn't do it often, even if you encourage him to relax a bit and not stress himself out about masking. He's masked for so long and so often he's almost ironed out stims from his life completely. That being said he does still stim occasionally, usually hand flapping, and he's glad you don't make a big deal out of it or draw attention to it. Ingo isn't sure he'll ever feel comfortable stimming like his brother can, but around you, it feels normal. And it's nice to feel normal.

⚫- He prefers it if you let him initiate touch, but also appreciates it when you lean into it and reciprocate. He just prefers to initiate, which he's glad you respect, because his touch-positive and touch-averse days come and go sort of at random.

⚫- Even better connections with him will form if some of your special interests overlap! He can indulge and rant for hours and hours and hours if you are there to enjoy his interests with him.

#submas #submas x reader #ingo x reader #emmet x reader #pokemon imagines #pokemon x reader

[vvictuss]

Silence's Song

Intro for a work-in-progress fanfic inspired by a single line (included at end of post) in The Buried Dagger by my favorite WH40k author @jmswallow.

Setting is on Barbarus before Mortarion is found by the Emperor. Took some liberties with Silence's description and Barbaras’s worldbuilding, as in adding a single tree, I guess. I'm still new when it comes to lore too so apologies for any conflicting points. (also I know my writing isn't perfect, pls forgive the odd mistake and lmk so I can fix it lol)

======

A glint of pale light bounced from her cold metal as Silence sang. 

She was beautiful as ever, polished in blood. Well cared for, the instrument cut through Barbarus’s pestilent sky with harmonious joy, like a spring bird delighting in the sun. Ichor pooled at the edges of her steeled blade at the conclusion of fading translucent streaks, then dripped from the toe’s end with a quiet pattering, like a distant drum beat to accompany her tune. 

So much more than a tool, Silence brought a crescent omen of end, whose handle was grasped firmly by her hooded maestro. The young man wielded his instrument with the reverent steadfast and command of a conductor readied at the podium. Delicate, yet sharp, precise, dictatorial. Silence’s snath curved out like a crane’s neck captured in elegant Barbarusian willow wood. Shoestring strips of paled leather wrapped her grip and stem, darkened and indented where his hands had laid day after day -- worn, sculpted by time and strength. Silence fed on the crops gleaned by the Reaper of Men with grace and obedience -- in return, he respected her service through harvesting what evil had been sown before them. 

Together, they danced. There were times Mortarion entertained the thought of humming along as his deadly companion serenaded their damned enemy. Ever since he heard that beautiful noise from the villagers on Barbarus the first night spent free from Necare’s prison, no sound met his ears without being composed into song. Everything was music, when he finally learned of its existence. Wind blasting through the valley as a deep horn’s bellow, noxious fog plucking its wheat strings, percussive cracks and pops of the village’s nightly fires. 

Most of all, though, he heard it with the swing of his scythe. 

She was an orchestra. She was an ensemble. She was a choir to rival that of mighty cathedrals. Named Silence, yet she trilled when her chine’s blade split skin and bone as effortlessly as a knife through paper, like the smoothness of breath pushed under a woodwind’s reed. 

(Quote from The Buried Dagger and more below)

The inspiration:

"'Silence' was still moving, coming around, and the Death Guard heard the air sing as the blade cut again before the guardian could register that it had already been killed."

I loved the imagery of this whole scene, so vivid and fantastical yet grounded. Easy to follow, exciting, and James Swallow's technical writing skills push me to improve. I've tried to pay attention to the way he keeps the flow going while still taking the time to set the scene and immerse the reader.

It's been less than a year since I let myself pick up writing again and I'm proud of the direction I'm headed. Obviously I have a long way to go, if anyone has critiques, please comment or shoot me a DM/ask! I'd appreciate feedback very much.

#my writing tag #my art tag #warhammer 40k #wh40k #writing #warhammer 30k #warhammer 40000 #mortarion #daemon primarch #warhammer primarch #the horus heresy #horus heresy #warhammer fanfic #wh40k novels #james swallow #the buried dagger #death guard #fanfiction #nurgle #prose #flowery bs #games workshop #the black library #black library #horus heresy series

[dopenightmaretyphoon]

I'm sorry sweetheart

Authors Note: okay so this isn't a second part to happy birthday hon, but it is in the works! Please pay attention to the triggers. If you ever need to talk to anyone feel free to message me

Trigger warnings: self harm! Bad family, self-doubt

You walked through the doors of Abbott elementary and smiled. Today was it, your fresh start. You were going to be a teaching aid for the kindergarden teacher, Barbara Howard. You had the older women a couple of times before the term started and you couldn't get her off your mind.

"Right come on sweetheart we have a lot to sort"

You didn't even know when Barbara had arrived but you nodded and followed her.

Your first day went amazingly you and Barb had worked together great and got everything you wanted to do done. The only problem was you definitely had a crush on the older women now, the way she smiles at a student when they get the answer right, the way she flots around the classroom like she owns it, you guessed she kinda did own it. Everything about the women had you weak at the knees, the only problem? She was married and definitely not interested in women or so you thought.

Barbara and Melissa walked to their cars together as normal and all Barbara could speak about was her new aid, Melissa stopped infront of the brunette

"Barb, I'm glad your aid is amazing and all but you sound like a high schooler with a crush"

Barbara looked at her best friend with a blank face and thought for longer than someone who is married with two children should

"I do not have a crush Melissa and I don't appreciate you even suggesting it"

Melissa tried to hide her smirk and nods

"Whatever you say"

When Barbara got home, she sat in the living room looking at a picture of her and Gerald on their wedding day. The smiles, the laughs, all caught on photos, yet now they barely talk to each other. He had taken more night shifts, and she spent as long as possible at the school. She decided enough was enough, barb was done hiding and was done not being who she wanted to be. Gerald had the night off and walked into the living room confused, he hadn't seen his wife look at their wedding photos in years.

Gerald had taken the night off to tell Barbara that he couldn't do it anymore, that he was in love with someone else but seeing her there lookin at their photos with a smile made him re-think everything

"You okay there B?"

Barbara practically broke her neck looking at him and tried to hide the tears. It was too late, Gerald had seen them and was next to her

"Whats wrong? Has someone said something?"

Barbara shook her head and took a deep breath, tonight had to be the night. They both knew that but neither wanted to end what had being going for so long even if they weren't in love with each other anymore

"I think we should get a divorce"

If you asked them who said it first none of them would have been able to tell you but they both agreed it was the end. They spent the night talking about who would have what and how to tell their children.

The next few months were torture for Barbara, she was finally single and free to make a move on you. The one problem? She didn't even know if you liked women, that was until one day in the staff room Jacob came running in

"Pride is here in two weeks who is coming?"

Everyone apart from you, Barbara and Melissa, were quick to agree. All three of you for the same reason, you weren't out to anyone, well Barb and Mel were to eachother but not a soul knew about your hidden feelings. Everyone looked between the three of you, Melissa nodded

"Alright, I'm come"

You looked at your food then shook your head, you grabbed your stuff and left. Barbara quickly agreed and followed after you. When she made it to your shared classroom she found something she never thought she would, you have scissors against your wrist and was just about the push them down when Barbara ran in and grabbed them, wrapping her arms around you as you broke down crying

"Sweetheart, please don't, I've got you"

Barbara held you for a few more minutes before you calmed down

"I'm sorry, I- I don't know, I'm sorry"

The older woman stroked your hair and shook her head

"There is no reason to apologise Y/N, I'm glad you're okay, though. Would you like to talk about it?"

You sat yourself on one of the small tables and sighed

"I'm lesbian, I have been since I was like 15, but I've always been scared to come out as I worry what people with think, so I keep it to myself. I never told my family and got married to a dead beat man. It didn't end way, so I moved to Philly. I do that to cope with everything that I can't say. Otherwise, it gets all caught up in my head, and I overload. Jacob mentioned pride, and I went into a meltdown, I'm sorry that happened"

Barbara took in your words and took a couple of minutes to process what you said, which made you overthink

"I'm sorry you went through all that, sweetheart. It isn't fair. I've learnt that the only person opinion of you that matters is your own, im so grateful you could come out to me and feel comfortable enough telling me that"

Giving her a watery smile you hugged her tightly and wiped your eyes

"Right, let's get ready for the students, and next time you see Jacob tell him I'll come to pride"

#barbara howard x reader #abbott elementary #barbara howard

[a-boca-do-inferno]

eyes never lie (tom hagen x reader)

summary: A little party never killed nobody, right? 

warnings: cheating, swearing, smut, angst-ish

words: 2.8k

notes: the amount of time i spent on this is embarrassing lmao. this is 100% self-indulged btw and also only fiction pls do not cheat on your significant other (only with cute little mafia men <3). enjoy!

A long sigh escaped your lips for the thousandth time as you only kept nodding at whatever Connie was saying. You just couldn’t pay attention to the conversation anymore; your boredom was far greater than any other feeling you had now. Business meetings felt like a slap in the face and these type of “family fraternizations” were always a hard pass for you, as you very much preferred a simple afternoon coffee with your mother-in-law, no shady men in fancy suits whispering to each other. Still, you were compelled to accompany your husband every now and then. You had a reputation to maintain even within family, after all. 

“C’mon, (y/n), I’m sure you’re gonna love it!”, it’s Connie’s voice once more, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

You shake your head slightly. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Connie. Michael won’t like not seeing me here.” 

“Oh, please, it’s not like we’re gonna miss anything”, she waves her hand in a sneering gesture, pointing with her chin in the direction of your husband’s office. “Besides, they’re working now. Michael’s mind is clearly elsewhere, he won’t even notice you’re gone.” 

You couldn’t help but sigh this time. Connie was just too persistent for her own good. You take a look at the wooden door to your side and nod briefly, giving up. “Fine. But we’ll be back before eleven, you hear me?!” 

She only smiled triumphally, already making her way out the mansion while you followed her suit. A rush of excitement rushed through your body as you got in her car, driving off to God knows where. You liked Connie because she was fearless, reckless, even a little bit crazy at times. She was truly a breath of fresh air from all the tension surrounding your family, you even considered her one of your best friends. So, despite not knowing exactly what she had in mind, you trusted her. Besides, maybe what you needed was really just a quick get-away.  

A little party never killed nobody, right? 

Before marrying Michael, you had already been a friend of the Corleone family for many years. When Vito died, you became much closer with Carmela; they both always treated you like a daughter, after all, long afore you got engaged to their son. The boys and Connie even used to joke about you being the “female Tom Hagen”, especially Tom Hagen himself, while flashing you a warm smile whenever you were around their house. You always thought he was the kindest Corleone man — as ironic as that may sound, since he was adopted —, so you found pleasant being referred to as such, although the joke was now but a good memory from the past.  

As time went on, it only made sense you’d end up marrying one of their sons one day. Don Corleone was never really subtle about wanting you to “birth him some grandchildren”, as he liked to say. Michael eventually proposed to you when he got back from Sicily, not really taking anyone by surprise, what with everyone’s revelation that his endearment to you had been no secret from the start. It was such a beautiful ceremony, you still remember Vito’s happiness to this day... But ever since he passed away, things started to change. Mostly with Michael, of course, as he was now the head of the family business.  

You have no quarrel with his line of work, never had; however, you would be lying if you said it sometimes didn’t take a toll in your marriage. Most notably in the past few months, where you’d both often find yourselves in a pointless argument about the stupidest things. You liked to think it had little to do with your relationship per se, and rather his stressful job, but at times it felt as though you weren’t happy as a couple anymore. He became more possessive by the day, even going as far as ordering you around like one of his henchmen. And although you did not like that, not one bit — especially because you were raised to have dignity, something his own father had taught you on many occasions —, as his wife, you had to oblige and understand your position. And you did, heaven knows.  

But God, was it tiring. 

“We’re here!”, Connie announces happily, parking in front of a modest building. She glances at you briefly before getting out of the vehicle. “Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve come here. I found this place right after I left Carlo. C’mon, let’s party!” 

You chuckled at her almost cartoonish excitement, accompanying her up the three steps that lead toward the door. You didn’t know that neighbourhood, and to be honest it didn’t feel very safe, but Connie seemed to be familiar with the surroundings, so it couldn’t be that bad. You trusted her, after all.  

The door slowly opened and caught your attention. You were greeted by a woman in her fifties, probably, and she offered a warm, even motherly smile to Connie. They both hugged tightly and you raised a brow, still lost as to who that was and where you actually were. The lady then measured you up and down before clapping her hands in a pleased gesture, coming to give you a hug as well.  

“Mrs. Corleone, what a pleasure! Welcome, welcome!”, she patted your back in enthusiasm, looking at you with content eyes. “Come on in, make yourselves at home.” 

You blinked once, still taken aback by her display of affection to you when you had never seen that woman in your life, but she didn’t seem to notice or mind it. You watched as she made way for you to come inside and Connie readily grabbed your wrist, pulling you to follow her around. The door closed behind you and you were in what it seemed to be a living room of sorts. You exchanged a look with Connie and she nodded happily, unable to hold back her delight. It only got you more curious.  

The smell in the air was nicotine, incense and alcohol. There were two red couches next to each other, just in the beginning of the corridor, and both looked ancient. The walls were a dark, almost faded shade of brown, and the infiltration was blatant on all of them. You all walked past the living room, towards the hallway. As you got to what it looked like an office of some kind, a chatter coming from upstairs only got louder. There were laughing and singing, so you took it the “party” your sister-in-law talked about earlier was certainly taking place up there.  

“Connie, what...”  

You’re cut off by the woman stopping in her tracks, urging you both to do the same. She is still grinning while staring at you. “Would you like separate rooms?” 

“Yes!”, Connie says, turning to you. “You’ll be fine by yourself, (y/n), won’t you? You’re a grown-up", she has a mischievous look on her face. 

You frown, bothered by all of that suspense. “Connie, what is this place?” 

“The finest brothel in town, my dear!”, the woman chimes in. 

Your eyes widen in panic. “The finest what?”, you gasp and Connie only chuckles at your disbelief, waving her hand. “Connie, you said it was a party.” 

“Well, it is!”, she shrugs, then glances back at the lady. “We’ll take two separate rooms next to each other. Apparently Mrs. Corleone here has been married for so long, she forgot how to jolly up.” 

“I am absolutely not...” 

“You don’t have to have sex with anyone, silly”, Connie cuts you off. “It’s just for the laughs!”, she then giggles like a child, which only makes the situation more obnoxious in your head. Still holding your arm, she adds, “c’mon, Dorothy will show us the way.” 

You couldn’t believe what was happening, but you couldn’t stop your legs from following them upstairs either. There was a sting of sordid curiosity in your chest, and with it being wrapped up in that same rush of excitement of doing something different for a change, your brain just wouldn’t order your body to turn around and go back to your husband. You tried to remind yourself it was merely for the laughs, at last. No one would ever find out anyways, especially not Michael; so, you were safe.  

You arrived at the second floor only to be met with a couple of women standing there. Each one of them had some cheap, dirty dress, contrasting with their beauty. All eyes fell upon you and you felt your cheeks heat up. You avoided their gaze to look back at Connie and she bore the same amusement as she pointed to the last door in the corridor, encouraging you with a nod. You scoffed, shaking your head. This was such a stupid thing, rich and respectable women posing as prostitutes only for the jokes, but you still couldn’t deny that you liked the little feeling of adventure growing inside you.  

“Have fun!”, Connie says as you walk away from her, causing you to roll your eyes in a mix of irritation and mirth. 

You opened the door and everything was dark inside. You supposed there wasn’t any “client” yet, so you simply made your way to the empty bed, sitting on the edge. It was surprisingly inviting and soft for a brothel’s furniture, making you lean in on the pillows and sit more comfortably. For a moment you closed your eyes and pretended you were back at home, in your own bed, waiting for Michael to come out of the bathroom and take you as passionately as he used to, before your relationship started to struggle. You couldn’t even remember the last time you made love with him that felt really good, and not just something to get you both off for the night. He was a busy man, you knew that, but having to constantly share him with his work frustrated you to no end as of lately.  

The doorknob made a sound and you jumped in your spot, sitting back on the edge of the mattress in a swift movement. Anticipation ran through your whole body when you saw a silhouette approaching in the darkness, closing the door as it was swallowed fully by the blackness inside the room. The man’s footsteps were like drums in your ears, following the same rhythm as the rapid beating of your heart.  

You cleared your throat while he stopped by the bedside lamp, right in front of you, and your breath hitched as he turned on the light. You stared at each other with a rather comical shock at first, a stretching silence around you. Tom’s mouth still hung open when you got up and stood face to face with him, so close you could take in every single note of his strong cologne. It made you feel almost dizzy.  

“It’s not what you think”, you are the first one to speak, widened eyes as you blink nervously at him. “But please, don’t tell anyone”, you add, and the desperation in your voice sounds too pathetic to your own ears. 

Tom merely nods. “I wasn’t gonna.”  

And just like that, all your worries seem to disappear into thin air. Suddenly his hot, heavy breath against your lips is the only thing there is in your senses, similar to liquor warming every inch of your body as it streams down your throat. Your hands automatically land on his chest and his reaction is instant, pulling you into an urgent kiss without another word. Initially, you’re unable to think of anything else other than the pressure his tongue puts on yours, sweeping your mouth at an agonizingly slow pace. But as soon as you need to part ways looking for air, reality comes crashing down on you. This is your brother-in-law, for Christ’s sake. 

What are you doing? 

“This is wrong”, you choke, shaking your head quickly as you back away from him. Tom himself doesn’t look the least distressed, but then again, you can’t remember ever seeing him out of his usual collected demeanour for any reason; even in moments of pain and panic, as they are so common in the family business. You hug your body protectively, avoiding his piercing gaze that right now is just too calm for your liking. “I’m only here because Connie brought me”, you begin, not wanting to blame it all on Connie, but it was technically the truth. “I wasn’t going to... Nothing was going to happen. It was just for the laughs”, you can’t help but let out a miserable chuckle, your last words but a whisper as if even your brain couldn’t believe them anymore. 

“I’m not accusing you of anything, (y/n)”, his voice is soft as a lullaby, ironically causing your insides to turn. Tom then takes an experimental step towards you and you hold your breath involuntarily, the maddening feel of his lips still lingering on yours. He laughs lightly, probably amused by your poor control over your emotions. “I already told you I’m not going to say anything, I would never do that to you.” 

“I believe you”, you sigh in defeat, finally giving up. Your shoulders slump and Tom takes the signal as an invitation, taking another step closer to you. His face is against the light now, but it somehow highlights the design of his jaw. It’s breath-taking. “Tom...” 

“You kissed me back”, he points out matter-of-factly, and you feel your cheeks burn. His fingertips touch your face and now it’s impossible to escape his dark eyes. “Why?”, comes the unexpected murmur, making you frown slightly. 

“You know why, Tom”, you offer him a small smile, trying to find any lingering doubt in his orbs. You don’t. “The eyes never lie, do they?” 

He shrugs, gripping your waist again as he pulls you close. “Let’s find out now.” 

Then it comes again, that wave of anticipation drowning you before you can even get to the surface for air. The kiss is as desperate as the first, hard, and his weight presses you against the bedroom door with a loud thud. It hurts a little, but you’re more focused on the way your whole body tingles when his hands roam your bust, squeezing and caressing every inch of skin they find in their path. His mouth tastes like cigarettes and alcohol on yours, yet his movements are as sober as it gets. Cold, long fingers grip at your sides and you put your legs around his hips in a tight hold, reflexively.  

Your dress is violently pushed up and your underwear is swiftly put to the side, exposing your core to the coldness of the room. A moan escapes your lips as Tom enters you with no delicacy and he finds your swollen mouth for another deep, wet kiss. You both wanted this, there wasn’t really need for any ceremonies. And the eyes in fact did not lie; not with his sweaty body trapping yours in such an urgent pounding, not with the way his breath mixed in with yours from time to time, making you share the same hot air. He let out a quiet groan when your walls tightened around him and you smiled briefly, not being able to hold back the loud sounds leaving your own mouth when his tongue went towards the spot between your breasts, painting it glossy with his saliva.  

“Fuck, fuck!”, you blurted out, digging your nails on his shoulders.  

His hips were crushing you against the wooden door now and you were sure the thud was blaring enough to be heard outside in the hallway, but you couldn’t care less. He thrust one, two, three times more and a third wave of anticipation hit your body, while you trembled in his arms before going absolutely limp. Tom came right after, splashing the inside of your thighs in white colour. You stayed with your legs straddling him for a few seconds, trying to catch your breath.  

The silence between you was somewhat pleasant and you let yourself forget everything, for that moment: Michael, your marriage, the family business... All that mattered now was how tender Tom’s hands were caressing your hips under the dress mindlessly, while his face was buried in your neck. His mouth was still pressed to your skin, but it did nothing there. No kiss, it just lingered on your pores. You felt a shiver up your spine as your eyes met his again, only to find there not a single drop of regret or shame.  

Tom then left a quick peck on your collarbone, seeming to be entertained by how your chest rose up and down. “Are you okay?”, he speaks softly, waiting for your answer with no rush in his bearing. This was nice, you reckoned, how so much different he was from your husband. Michael’s calmness was calculating, cold, intense; Tom’s was soothing. You appreciated that right now.  

“I am”, you murmur, with heated cheeks as you remember the position you’re both still in. “Are you?” 

Tom looks away for a moment, seeming to think of his reply. Then a faint smile paints his lips, and you just know. But he asks, anyway, “can’t you see it in my eyes?” 

#the godfather x reader #the godfather imagine #tom hagen x reader #tom hagen imagine #the godfather #tom hagen

[covenofwives]

Warm Hearts and Hot Soup

Dream is a little under the weather when XD comes to visit.

I had to get this out fast! Leaving soon! Sorry it's so short! No time for proper proof reading! The prompt was sickness/illness! PLS ENJOY!

---

Dream was the kind of guy to push through an illness or injury. So that meant when he was out from sickness, the man was really sick.

He refused every visitor and offer of help. The blonde runner locked himself in his own house (which he totally had) and bundled up warm in layers of blankets and warm clothes. But that still wasn’t enough to stave off the chill. Even buried in all warmth, he shook and shivered. It felt like his very bones were cold.

Dream tried to sleep off most of the infliction but he was too restless and then with the sound of a familiar pop, he knew he wasn’t sleeping.

“Dream?” The growling double voice called out.

Of course DreamXD was one of the few to know where Dream actually stayed.

“I’m sick…” Dream’s pathetic voice whimpered out. It was no where near a shout. It was barely above a whisper.

“George told me.” XD almost sounded amused. Dream could hear the loud thump of their footsteps suddenly approaching.

Dream was in no mood for company. He buried his head under the blankets. “Go away…” He muffled.

“I came with gifts.” XD offered cheerfully. “Things to help.”

Despite longing to stay in his foul mood, curiosity got the better of him. Dream peeked out from his tent of blankets. XD was in the room now, having to duck down to fit in, and holding something in his lower hands.

From what Dream could make out it was shaped like a plastic bowl with a thin lid on it. When XD noticed Dream’s interest he grinned, lowering the bowl onto the table by the bed and opening it up. The smell of chicken soup immediately hit his nose.

Dream sat himself up as quickly as he could, making XD chuckle. “A little hungry?” The tall God teased.

Dream’s cheeks flushed pink, but calmed as XD’s teasing chuckle turned into a warm smile. He plucked a spoon from thin air and pulled up a chair, sitting by the bed.

“D-Did you make this?” Dream shivered and pulled the blanket tight around him. He looked over the soup curiously.

“George helped.” XD admitted. He helped out the spoon and took it away as Dream reached for it. “Don’t want me to feed you?”

“Wh-What? No!”

“You sure? Will be hard to eat while wrapped up.”

Dream huffed and shuffled out of his blankets. The cold hit him instantly but he suppressed a shiver and opened his hand for the bowl. The warmth of soup was the best thing Dream had ever felt. When he took his first sip he felt the warm soup spread down his throat and warmed him inside. He had to stop himself from downing the soup too fast and instead took his time.

XD filled the silence as Dream ate, which he was silently grateful for. The God filled him in on what George was up to today, and updates on any of the people XD passed on the way here. Nothing exciting. When Dream was finished, XD took back the bowl and spoon, and the objects disappeared with a quick snap of their fingers.

“Thank you.” Dream shivered and quickly curled up in his blankets again. Even though he could still taste the soup on his tongue, the warmth left him quickly and he retreated back to his bundle.

“Are you still cold?” XD asked thoughtfully.

Dream nodded as his eyes drifted closed. He tried to focus all his energy into remembering the soup and warming up again. He didn’t pay attention to the sound of XD’s shuffling, so he didn’t see the cloak thrown over him until he felt the weight land on him.

It surprised him more than actually knocking the wind out of him. Dream pulled himself up out of the blankets, looking to the cloak laying over him.

“I thought you might like your security blanket.” XD grinned. Seeing him without his cloak was always weird, even for Dream who had spent all his life with XD. With the cloak on he seemed larger than life, almost like a creature. Without it and seeing the (almost) human form under it made him seem less scary.

“I’m n-not a child! I don’t need-” Dream huffed but it was hard to keep that tone with the shiver through him, and when his hand touched onto the cloak all the fight left him.

The green cloak was soft, softer than Dream remembered it being, and it was warm. So very warm.

“Well I’ll take it away, if you don’t want…” XD reached out, slowly, to the cloak and couldn’t hide his grin when Dream tightened his hold.

“N-No! No! I want it!”

Dream felt like a child, but he didn’t care. He held the cloak in closer to himself, awkwardly shuffling out of the blanket so the cloak was the only thing wrapped around him. It felt warmer than any of the blankets he had, and it pressed over him like a comfortable weight.

“Feeling better?” XD asked softly.

Despite how much he wanted to stay in the comfortable darkness, Dream peeked open his eyes. “Uh-huh…” He mumbled with a little nod.

“This reminds me of when you were a child.” XD voice went soft. Softer than usual. The doubling growl almost seemed to fade. “Sometimes you’d get sick and I’d let you sleep on my chest while you were wrapped in my cloak. Do you remember that?”

Dream tried to remember. His mind felt foggy with the heat but he could still think clearly, albeit slower. “Not so much…” Dream admitted. It was hard to remember times when he was small. He had fragments of it, little pieces to slot together. “I think…did-did we used to live on a ship?”

“Yes.” XD smiled. He was excited, like an almost grin but much softer. “An airship. We had a ship we stayed in, and then I had a nest in an obsidian tower.”

“I think I remember the nest. It was really warm.” Dream turned his head as XD ran his fingers through the blonde hair. The claws softly scratched along his scalp, melting him further into the cloak’s warmth.

XD slowly traced their claws down, brushing along the nape of Dream’s neck and watching their brother curl up with giggles. XD traced over the spot again, their nails dancing along the skin just under Dream’s hairline and watched the giggles bubble up. Dream’s shoulder shook and he nuzzled himself into the cloak. But he didn’t move away or hide the spot.

“Dreeeeam~” XD’s voice carried on his voice like a song, drawing up a giggle from his little brother. “Is your neck tickly?”

“N-Nohoho…”

“Oh?”

XD made his nails slowly walk down the back of Dream’s neck, coming to the top of his spine and then dragging down to the side of his neck. XD skittered his nails up to just under Dream’s ear.

“Ehehehex Dehehehe!”

“I think someone’s neck is tickly~” XD cooed. “Someone has a tickly neck~”

“N-Nohoho! Ihi dohohon’t!”

XD sat on the edge of the bed, crowding around Dream who was curling into the cloak as much as he could. His ears had adorable red tips, which no doubt matched his face burrowed in to the green fabric. Yet even as Dream curled, he did nothing to protect his neck, which lay very open and vulnerable.

XD skittered their nails up and down the side of Dream’s neck. His giggling jumped up into squeaky when they tickled at the bottom, where his neck met his shoulders. It made his shoulders shake, almost matching his giggling.

“Naaawwww, what a tickly neck you have. So cute!”

“N-Nohohot cuhuhute…” Dream tittered but surprising XD by bringing his head up from the cloak. His cheeks were pink and bunched up with his loopy smile. His eyes were dazed and unfocused but little giggles still spilled from his lips even when the tickling had stopped.

XD’s heart swelled with affection, his smile turned soft as he raised his hand and scratched under Dream’s ear. The blonde hunched his shoulders and couldn’t seem to decide whether he wanted to hide in the cloak or stretch out more for his neck for tickles.

“You sleepy Dreamie?”

Dream nodded slowly and XD knew their little brother was not in his right mind. Dream would always kick up a fuss over the cute nickname. XD lessened his scratching to soft touches. “You want to sleep?”

Dream nodded again and could vaguely feel himself be moved. The blanket of green was still around him, its soft fabric grasped in his hands like a lifeline. He slowly opened his eyes to see he was no longer laying over the bed, but he’d been moved to lay over XD’s chest.

He could feel the want to protest growing in his chest, but it faded fast. He did feel like a child again but that wasn’t a bad thing. XD felt as warm as the sun, and the cold that had been clinging onto his bones melted away. He was left with only soft thoughts and gentle mumbling words of XD’s words above him. Dream had no idea what was being said, but he didn’t need to. He just slipped into the most comfortable sleep he’d ever had in a long time.

#llamas lee dream month #dsmp tickle #mcyt tickle #ler!dreamxd #lee!dream #if anyone knows the reference to the title you get a one single cookie crumb

[desertfangs]

I know it's said in one of the later books that neither Daniel or Armand enjoy spending too much time in court and would rather go back to Trinity Gate but the thought of having Daniel there just being his ridiculous self a la QoTD is delightful. This is the same guy who was doing his own version of holding back laughter during a genocide and yes, part of it was because he'd recently been turned and was still in awe of everything but IMHO that's also part of who he is and how he responds to crisis situations. So picturing him being there during important meetings and witnessing the ins and outs of dealing with Lestat's court is hilarious. I imagine him having to excuse himself at times just to go to another room to let out the giggle he'd been holding back for hours because the whole thing IS kinda funny when you think about it.

LOL yes. I mean, Daniel was so overwhelmed when the Akasha thing went down. He'd almost died of alcoholism which absolutely means he spent the last days of his mortal life in this weird fog of confusion because of all of the ammonia in his brain since his kidneys were failing. Then he was turned into a vampire and overwhelmed by the strength and enormity of vampire senses and one of the first things he does is go to Lestat's concert, which had to feel surreal AF. Like, Daniel has been thinking of Lestat as this sort of almost mythical figure for over a decade and now on his like pretty much first night as a vampire, he's with Armand at Lestat's rock show? Tell me you wouldn't be laughing your ass off at the irony of that alone.

It's not that I think Daniel can't take things seriously, but I agree that he's definitely one of those people who's reaction to really dark and terrible things is to laugh and make jokes. Gallow's Humor is his friend. But IIRC he's pretty level-headed during the whole chaos in PL, so I think he can absolutely hold it in when he needs to, especially now that the colors of the wallpaper aren't distracting him and he knows how to manage his vampire senses better.

That said, I'm sure Court is ridiculous in a lot of ways. The part I think Daniel finds the funniest is that like... Marius, Lestat, and Louis are people he knows. Like he spent a decade with Louis and Lestat in the back of his mind as these people from Louis' story, and even Louis probably stopped feeling entirely real and then bam, they were just at his house for some long stretch of time. At this point, they're just people in his life.

But then at Court they're the Prince and the Prince Consort (whatever the fuck that means.... don't tell him, he knows what it means, he's just being an ass), and the Prime Minister, and things are probably often set up in a formal way in order to demonstrate to the younger set and the other immortals that this is a real, functioning vampire government (for now). And Daniel is just like... okay, sure, Lestat is the Prince or whatever, but that guy also keeps tagging me and Armand in instagram videos of people doing Blender Unboxings.

I'm sure he absolutely sometimes loses it when they're spending an hour debating some inane thing or whether to go stop some rogue vampire who is leaving a trail in some small country village or whatever their business entails. And it's worse if Lestat gets bored with it, because then the two of them start texting or having some kind of discussion with the Mind Gift and aren't paying attention, which frustrates whoever's leading the meeting (probably Marius). Maybe Lestat starts sending him suggestive mind images or who even knows. Or Armand starts giving him looks that means he's also thinking of which closet they abscond to when the meeting is over, and finally after some or all of this, Daniel has to stand up and exit the meeting so he doesn't burst out laughing in the middle of it.

I also think Daniel is very pragmatic and he as a pretty optimistic view of the world and vampirekind. So like sometimes while watching things go down, he's probably just standing in the background listening to some of the ancient vampires debate some archaic thing and finding it absurd. I would like Daniel Molloy's impressions of vampire court, because I'm sure he has some hilarious observations about the way they do things. So yeah, in those cases, too, he's probably sneaking off to go let out those giggles so he doesn't get yelled out again for not taking it seriously. And he does, but sometimes it's so absurd you can't help but laugh.

There's a lot of hilarity to be had in this scenario and a lot of potential for silly fic or fanart about it, because sometimes it is just kind of ridiculous, and Daniel absolutely understands that better than any of them. (Although I'm sure Armand does, too, and Lestat is in on the joke sometimes as well. But damn, he looks good in a crown!)

#thank you for the ask #sorry i rambled so much wow i have thoughts this morning #i haven't even had coffee yet. that's probably part of the problem tbh #answers in the desert #daniel molloy #vampire court #lestat de lioncourt #vc meta #vc humor #armand #anonymous #queen of the damned #prince lestat #post-canon shenanigans #vampire court shenanigans