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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 8 days

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Safer to Kiss (part 2) - Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

read part 1 here!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 3236

Summary: the day after drunkenly kissing your best friend and coworker, Spencer Reid, the BAU catches a case. Lots of talking with other members of the team, general group dynamic chaos, and ✨Pining✨

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, normal Criminal Minds violence, maybe some mild cursing? Mostly just pining teehee

A/N: thank you so much to everyone who interacted with part 1! I am so pumped about this lil series, and part 3 is already started 🙈 I love love LOVE hearing from you guys, it makes me so happy and inspired to continue writing. 🥹 also not my gif, all credit to the owner bc LOOK AT HIS LIL FACE

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Spencer’s hands were on your hips. Spencer’s hands were on your hips. Suddenly the three glasses of wine and 2 glasses of champagne were null and void, because you felt completely sobered by the time your mouth pulled away from his. The reality of the situation hit you like a bus - you, in a drunken stupor, had stupidly, idiotically, irreversibly kissed your best friend. Right on the lips. There was no excusing it as a friendly peck on the cheek.

Your entire face felt hot as you pulled away, and as Spencer’s hands retracted to his own space. You felt wobbly - okay, maybe you hadn’t sobered up - and when you were once again leaning against the railing of the stairs on your apartment building’s stoop, you blinked a few times.

Spencer blinked a few times, too, as if to process what had just happened. He’d tasted like red wine, which you saw he’d only had one single glass of tonight, and spearmint gum. The combination reminded you of spring.

Your best friend tasted like spring.

Your eyes widened, buggy, as if they might pop out of your head, and you opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out.

Spencer spoke instead, with an earnest expression on his face. “Y/N-“

“Thanks for getting me home in one piece, okay, goodnight!” You rambled off, the words sliding off your tongue like they were on a luge, all blurring together into one, long megaword. You slid in behind the door and stumbled up to your unit before you could say another word.

You couldn’t believe yourself, replaying the moment on your stoop over and over as you locked the door, leaning against it and running your hand over your face. Spencer’s expression had been completely dumbfounded when you pulled away from the kiss. There was no doubt in your mind that he had been about to politely reject you, in that way that only he could do. I’m sorry, Y/N, but I think we’re better off as friends, he would say, simultaneously humiliating you and ripping your heart in half.

That’s why you’d cut him off, before he could say anything, before he could address the situation, before either of you had to acknowledge that it had actually happened.

You slept poorly that night, your anxiety getting the best of you. It was that look on Spencer’s face, how you just knew he was going to tell you in the kindest, most sensitive tone that he didn’t like that you kissed him. And your Nan’s voice ringing in your head - You’ll find someone someday, Button. You’ll be just as happy as your sister someday, Button.

You tossed and turned, and woke up with a violent hangover. All the coffee in the world was not enough to cure the aftershock of the night before.

Your stomach was in knots, a lethal combination of hangover ickies and irreversible mistake anxiety, and as you took a cab to work, you leaned your head against the seat behind you.

You flashed your badge to security and boarded the elevator to ride up to the sixth floor. The doors opened to reveal Penelope Garcia, clutching a stack of folders to her chest, waiting for you.

“Good morning, pumpkin,” Penelope flashed a smile, then grabbed you by the wrist, practically yanking you along behind her as she headed towards the conference room. Your head was pounding and while you loved Penelope with all your heart, in that moment, you wanted to throttle her. “You look horrible. We’ll discuss that later, and don’t even think about trying to internalize it and brush me off. I might not be a super magic genius psychic profiler, but I can tell when one of my love-bugs has had a wild night and I want details. Unfortunately for you, darling, you have a case. Hotch asked me to pull you directly into the conference room. Everyone’s waiting.”

Usually, when Penelope rambled on like that, you were able to keep up. In this weakened state, however, the words hit you like someone throwing putty against a wall, and it took a minute to process. You found yourself standing in front of the closed door of the conference room, with slackened posture and narrowed eyes. “Okay,” you managed to murmur before Penelope dragged you behind her, into the conference room.

You could feel the team’s eyes on you as you slumped into the empty seat. You avoided eye contact with everyone, especially Spencer, projecting to the room that you were not to be asked about your disheveled appearance and obvious headache. You spared a glance at Spencer. He looked perfect, as per freakin’ usual, with a purple button-up dress shirt and a dark tie over it. He sat up straight in his desk chair, as if last night hadn’t affected him in the slightest. You hated that.

Hotchner cleared his throat. “Let’s begin. Garcia?”

Penelope’s eyes lingered on you, fluttering from you to Spencer, and you watched as she seemed to resist the urge to say anything. “Ooookay,” she spoke, drawing the word out as she stood before the table. She used the TV remote to present the case’s info on the monitor. “We’ve got a local case today, my fine furry friends. Three men killed in three weeks,” you took a drink of the water in front of you as Penelope presented three driver’s license photos on the TV screen. “All bodies have been identified. Twenty-three-year-old Harvey Gibson, twenty-nine-year-old Kyle Moore, and twenty-eight-year-old Malcolm Greene. All three were found in alleys in downtown D.C, cause of death multiple stab wounds to the chest, stomach, and genitals.”

You choked on your water when you saw the last photo. Malcolm Greene, as in, Malcolm Greene, the guy you spoke to last night at the art gallery? You remembered spotting him from across the room, and thinking about how Spencer had said he’d gone on a date (albeit, an unsuccessful one) over the weekend, and you wanted to prove to yourself that you could be interested in other men. And then you’d gone over to Malcolm, spoke to him for an embarrassing two minutes and twelve seconds, and walked back to Spencer with a red face. And now he was dead?

Concerns about your relationship with your best friend aside, your eyes met Spencer’s across the conference table and the two of you seemed, for a moment, to fall back into your old dynamic, having a somewhat telepathic conversation with just your expressions.

That’s the guy…? Spencer seemed to say, his brows furrowed slightly.

A subtle bob of your head was how you responded. Yep, that’s him.

Spencer’s mouth formed a straight line, a mannerism that everyone around the table seemed to notice.

“Reid, Y/L/N, what’s going on?” Derek piped up, inclining his head to the side curiously. “Something you’d like to share with the class?”

Spencer’s mouth opened as if he were about to spill the beans, but he paused, seemingly deciding not to rattle off whatever he was going to say. Instead, he gestured to you.

“Spencer and I went to an art gallery after work last night,” you sighed, feeling your cheeks turn pink. “I may have… flirted, briefly, with Malcolm Greene.”

Derek let out a low whistle, and you saw Emily and JJ share an amused look. Rossi was even cracking a smirk.

Only Hotch remained as stoic as ever. “How long did you speak with him?” He asked.

“Two minutes, twelve seconds,” you and Spencer said simultaneously, and your eyes snapped to his across the table. You swallowed the lump in your throat and somehow felt your whole face turn even redder.

“Some smooth-talker you are,” Derek snickered, and you shot him a glare. Penelope, standing behind him, smacked his shoulder. “Did you get his digits that fast?”

“I don’t really see how that’s pertinent to the case,” you protested, sitting up straight and crossing your arms over your chest.

“It’s just like any other witness interview, Y/N,” Hotch reminded you calmly, shooting the rest of the team a warning glance. “Even the most minute detail could help.” He seemed to realize that you were humiliated, and that the rest of the team’s eyes on you were not helping the situation. “We can talk about it later,” he compromised.

“So, multiple stab wounds to the chest, stomach, and genitals, huh?” Rossi offered as a rough transition back to the topic at hand. Across the table, you heard Emily stifle a laugh.

“Yes, sir. All bodies were posed in a classic casket fashion, arms folded across their chests, eyes closed,” Penelope reported.

“Sign of remorse,” JJ noted, jotting it down on her pad of paper.

“Any cash missing from their wallets, or jewelry missing off their body?” Hotchner asked.

“No, sir, all wallets were found in the clothes of the victims, presumably where they had been kept untouched,” Penelope answered.

“So, not a robbery gone wrong,” Rossi concluded.

“The disposal of the bodies feels inconsistent with the cause of death,” Spencer pointed out, twirling his pen around his finger. His cadence was quick and pensive. “Multiple stab wounds to those particular areas of the body indicate intense rage at the time of the murder, disposing them in alleyways seems to be a choice of opportunity and convenience, but posing the bodies is a sign of remorse, like the UnSub suddenly realizes what he’s done and regrets it.”

“Do the victims have any friends or family in common?” You asked, crossing your ankles beneath the table.

“As far as my preliminary scans can tell, all three men were completely unrelated,” Penelope said. “The only common denominator is how they died and how their bodies were disposed of.”

“Not entirely,” Emily pointed out, standing up and using her pen as a pointer, gesturing to the three ID photos on the screen.

“Don’t these guys all look… strikingly similar?” Emily proposed. All men were white, with aquiline noses, dark hair, and dark eyes. “In fact, don’t they all look exactly like someone we know?”

You took in a sharp breath, just as Penelope let out a small gasp and Derek let out a soft chuckle. “They’re all pretty boys, like Pretty Boy,” Derek laughed.

“So our UnSub has a type,” JJ added.

Derek smirked. “The UnSub and Y/N both have a type.”

Your face turned bright red, and your jaw tensed. You felt Spencer’s eyes on you for a fleeting moment, and before you could say anything, Hotchner stepped in. “Let’s get going on this. Reid, JJ, and Morgan, I want you at the crime scene. Prentiss, Rossi, and Y/L/N, come with me to the local police precinct and interview family and friends. Garcia, too.”

There was an array of agreements murmured, and everyone began to disperse. You wanted to shake Derek by the shoulders for his little comment, especially after all the teasing you took when you realized the man you briefly spoke to last night was now dead.

You were on your way back to your desk when you felt a light touch on your elbow. When you saw it was Spencer, you bit the inside of your cheek. “Can we talk for a second?” He asked, and you shook your head.

Pointing pathetically to your desk, you responded, rather articulately, with, “The case…”

“Yeah, I know. The case. But, Y/N, we have to talk about last night,” Spencer said, looking down at you. Even though you were actually tall for a woman, Spencer still had at least four inches of height on you. Maybe five. “I mean, you just, like, escaped from me the first second that you could. Was it…?”

You furrowed your brows, confused as to what Spencer was trying to say. “Did you mean to kiss me?” He asked.

This was it. This was the out. He was giving it to you, whether he knew it or not. This was the opportunity to take it all back, to say it was a mistake. You could blame it on the wine, on your Nan’s phone call, on Malcolm - what was he gonna do, sell you out?

The chance to save your friendship with Spencer Reid was right there, and you stood there and you looked up at Spencer with your mouth open, words ready to spill out, when -

“Hey, Reid, you coming, man?”

Saved by the Morgan.

You saw Spencer’s jaw tighten, and he exhaled sharply. You were still frozen, unsure of what to say, of how to say it, so when Spencer simply frowned at you and then turned around to join Derek, you weren’t surprised.

You ran your hands over your face, still reeling, foggy from your hangover, thoroughly embarrassed from the entire situation.

“Y/N,” Rossi’s voice piped up, and you turned to see him with an arched brow. “C’mon, we gotta get going,” he gestured for you to follow him.

You sighed, your shoulders slumped, as you joined Rossi. You boarded the elevator with him, just the two of you, to head down to one of the Bureau’s black SUVs. “What’s going on with you?” Rossi asked, furrowing his brows.

In terms of group dynamics, David Rossi was like the team’s mother, in comparison to Hotchner, who was most certainly the patriarch of the BAU. You loved Rossi. He was kind, fairly level-headed, and he always stuck his neck out for the people he cared about. He also was pretty funny, and could make a killer lasagna. All those merits aside, you so did not want to talk about it.

“Not right now, Dave,” you shook your head, leaning against the wall of the elevator, running your palms down your thighs.

Rossi nodded understandingly, but you had an inkling he wasn’t about to just drop it. “I get it. Hungover, in a weird spot with Reid-“

“I’m not in a weird spot with Reid,” you corrected him, and Rossi smirked, knowing he had gotten you to crack. You shot him a (mostly) playful glare. “I had maybe a little too much to drink last night. And I maybe had, accidentally, perhaps…” you groaned, rolling your eyes at the idiocy of your actions the night before. “I kissed Spencer last night. It only lasted for, like, a minute, and right when it was over, I freaked out and went inside my apartment, and now things are just, like, weird between us. And I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, kiddo,” Rossi began, and you pursed your lips. He always hit you with a kiddo when he was about to tell you something you didn’t want to hear. “As a person who has been with many romantic partners-“

You feigned a gag.

Rossi just chuckled and continued. “I think you have to ask yourself - how do you want Spencer to react? Would you prefer to bury this and never speak of it again, or is this the catalyst you needed to finally tell him how you feel?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you mean, tell him how I feel?” You asked, playing dumb. Maybe Rossi was just grasping at straws.

“Oh, c’mon, kid, we’ve all seen how you look at each other. The only person who doesn’t know that you’re in love with Spencer is, well, Spencer.”

You felt your entire face flush. “You’re not serious,” you chuckled in disbelief.

Rossi looked at you and batted his eyelashes in a very feminine expression. The expression dropped and he said, “You make this lovestruck school girl expression at him at least once a day.”

“I do not!” You crossed your arms over your chest defensively, just as the elevator dinged, signaling your arrival to the Quantico lobby.

“Yeah, kid, you do. It’s pretty cute, actually. You’re like two lovesick puppies, chasing each other’s tails.”

“He does not think of me like that, Rossi,” you insisted indignantly, your voice taking a more hushed tone as the two of you walked at the same quick pace through the lobby, and outside towards the garage of Bureau vehicles.

The sun hit your face just as Rossi spoke again. “You’re such a good profiler, Y/N. How do you not see it?”

You decided not to dignify Rossi’s opinion with a response. Rather, you just shook your head and continued towards the garage to meet up with Prentiss and Garcia.

When you arrived at the police precinct, Garcia set up in the conference room, and you, Emily and Rossi each took turns interviewing the next of kin for the victims. You interviewed the mother of the first victim, Harvey Gibson.

An art student at Georgetown, steady boyfriend for three years he planned to propose to on Christmas, no criminal record, called his mother every other day. He was a good kid. Comforting his mother, walking her through all the questions the police had asked her three weeks ago — it was always a lot. But with your head already fuzzy and your mind on other Reid-related things, by the time you escorted Mrs. Gibson out of the police station and thanked her for her time, you felt heavy.

It didn’t help when the team reconvened about an hour later, sitting around a conference room at the local police station. You could tell Spencer’s eyes were floating to yours every so often, but you refused to meet them. You were working right now. You couldn’t let the revelation with Rossi distract you from your job.

Penelope took the lead, addressing the entire team. “So, our original thought of the three victims being unrelated actually has turned out to be incorrect,” she began. “Not only do all three of our victims look alike, but they all visited the same art gallery twenty-four hours prior to their murders.”

“Not the one we went to last night?” Spencer asked.

“No,” Penelope clarified. “From Emily’s discussion with Malcolm Greene’s brother, along with tracking the location of the other two victims’ cell phones prior to their deaths, we can determine that all three victims visited a different art gallery - The Restful Owl, just two blocks over from where you and Y/N went last night.”

“So, the victims all meet a certain physical description,” JJ recapped. “Brown hair, brown eyes, early-to-late twenties, and all visited The Restful Owl art gallery.”

“The gallery seems like a solid lead,” Hotch agreed. “All three victims were interested in art in some capacity - Harvey Gibson was studying art, Kyle Moore worked at an art museum, Malcolm Greene was a collector.”

“Perhaps the ruse the UnSub used was related to a particular piece or artist,” Spencer proposed, wrapping and unwrapping his fingers around his pen. “We should get the security tapes from each victim’s visit to the gallery, observe who they spoke to, how they reacted to specific pieces. Maybe the UnSub lured these men to the sites of their deaths by promising them a deal on a work, or something of the sort.”

“Good idea,” said Hotchner. “Prentiss, Morgan, follow up with the gallery. If there’s a specific person or piece all three victims stopped to interact with, I think our next step is pretty clear.”

“What’s that?” Penelope asked.

“We send in someone who just so happens to be exactly the UnSub’s type to the art gallery as bait,” Rossi concluded.

All eyes, including yours, moved across the table, landing on Spencer.

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert

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darling-i-read-it · 9 months

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Frat Party

Dalton Lambert x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: borderline smut, basically just tension and making out for the whole fic lol, Chris cockblocking them smh

Author’s Note: I wrote this so quickly something possessed me and it just poured out i need to make out with him immediately

Requested: by anon, abt y/n and dalton having ‘fun’- probably in the closet 🫢🫢 heavy make out and ykkk pleasure 😞🙏🏻 then someone open the broom closet 😟😟 such a cockblocker

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“Do you remember the last time I went to a frat party,” Dalton asked, head tilted up to look at Chris. She looked down at him, pursing her lips in annoyance.

“That was literally months ago and since then you haven’t seen a dead person once.”

“She has a point,” you offered. You were sitting on Dalton’s desk, trying to peer pressure him into going to a stupid party. He had been far too cautious since his incident and it was about time he started to go out more. Chris found a flier laying around and declared that the three of you were going to go even if she had to drag you guys there.

“You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am on your side,” you said. “This is your side. You just don’t know it yet.” He rolled his eyes and looked between the two of you. He had never been sure how he ended up friends with the two of you. Usually he was grateful for it, knowing he wasn’t alone out here. Moments like these he wondered how worth it was, even when he glanced at you and his eyes lingered a little longer than they should have. You met his gaze, trying not to blush under it. Chris pretended not to notice your acts of persuasion. “C’mon D,” you pleaded. You sat up all the way and leaned forward to him. He was looking up at you, something he could get used to.

“Fine.”

“Yes!” “Sweet!”

You hopped off the desk and offered him your hand to help him up. He took it without a second thought. The weight of his hand was relaxing and familiar. You briefly thought about how you wished you could remain holding his hand forever.

“I’ll come get you guys at 8 alright?” Chris asked. You nodded. She backed away to the door, bringing two fingers to her eyes and then flipped them back around towards you. “Be ready or I’ll leave without you.” “Please do,” Dalton pleaded.

“You’re stuck going,” she promised. She opened up the door, calling about something she had to do before you left. You turned to Dalton, a smile plastered on your face. It was a goofy one, half to taunt him, half to have a reason to smile at him.

“It’ll be fun,” you promised.

“If you say so.” -

It was loud before you even went in. Greek Row had a line of houses that all seemed too large to be real and too old to be nice. You could immediately tell which one was having a party from a distance. There were people hanging out on the curb, drinking beer, watching the stars, dancing in the grass and doing other weird things. Dalton scooted closer to you, trying not to show his disinterest.

You nudged him.

“Lighten up,” you said.

“I’m trying,” he promised. You approached the door, slipping through the people making out on the porch. Once you got inside it was like a whole other world had opened up. There were people everywhere, against walls, chugging drinks, dancing against each other. The music was so loud you could hardly see yourself think. Dalton put a hesitant hand to one ear, clearly trying to get used to the overstimulation.

“I’m gonna go upstairs and be nosy!” Chris called over the music. “Either of you want to come?”

“I want a drink!” you yelled. She nodded.

“Dalton?”

“I’ll go with her!” Even though you were practically screaming at each other, it was hard to hear. Chris saluted you both before snaking through the crowd to the stairs.

You didn’t recognize anyone around. It was kind of humbling, realizing how big the school actually was. Dalton was walking close behind you as you made it to a table with snacks. You grabbed a solo cup and poured yourself some of the red liquid, not entirely sure what was in it.

“You want some?!”

“You drink it first!” You rolled your eyes and took a sip. It was foul but not bad enough to make a face. You offered him a drink of yours, which he took. He made a disgusted face, shaking his head as he tried to rid himself of the flavor. You giggled, taking back your cup.

“Want one?!” He paused, swallowing hard. There were so many people that you were pressed against the table and practically against each other.

“Sure?!” You nodded once, a bright smile on your face. You poured him some and handed it over. You grabbed his arm and weaved him through the crowd so you wouldn’t lose him. You ran into people dancing, narrowly avoiding the people making out on the stairs.

Once you got further away from the living room you were able to hear yourself think a little bit more. Dalton was drinking quickly, despite his looks of distaste. You took a large swig to catch up to him.

“Wanna dance?!” you asked. His eyes went wide as he took a large swallow. The scrunched face of disgust went over his face and then it was even again. He looked towards the crowd of people dancing, men's hands on girls hips, bodies pressed together. Just the thought of it made him blush furiously. “D?!”

“Yeah!” He put down his cup, forgetting about it immediately. This time he grabbed your hand and led you back into the crowd. He didn’t like it but he forced himself to be in the middle so that less people paid attention to him. There was awful music playing but it had an aggressive base that was rocking the floors. You tossed your drink away far too early into a garbage can and started to dance to the music. Dalton wondered if he should put his hands on your sides as you started to move along to the music, looking too intoxicating for his already intoxicated mind.

“C’mon D!” you yelled. You put your hands on his sides, moving him back and forth. He tried not to gasp at your hands. Instead he just put his palms on your hips as well, evening out the playing field. His grip was fiery and incredibly distracting. You were moving him but you weren’t thinking about it anymore. You were thinking about him and you were pulling him closer to you and your chests were flush. You looked him in the eye, not breaking eye contact. It felt like you were playing a game of who would break first. Your breathing was becoming ragged. Was it smokey in here?

Your hands moved up towards his neck. You put your arms on his shoulders. His lips parted. Your torsos were fused together at this point and he was making every effort to hold you even closer to him. Everyone else seemed like a blur.

You lifted your hand up a bit and then placed it on his neck. He would’ve flushed if he wasn’t knee deep in the moment. Your fingers were cool against his bare skin.

“Dalton,” you said, voice too quiet for him to hear but he recognized the way your lips said his name.

“Yeah?”

You leaned forward, kissing him without thinking. His lips parted, breathing in the air you were giving him. He had never felt so euphoric. It briefly crossed his mind that this is what college was for. To make out with the girl he loved in the middle of a room after drinking something was probably too strong. Your hand went to his hair, tangling in his knots.

“C’mon,” you whispered and he only caught it because his face was now so close to yours. Your hand was in his. You had never been in this house before but you were determined now, body on fire. His other hand found your hip. You ran up the stairs. People were staggering around but your mind was now occupied. You tried a door but it was locked. Dalton put both of his hands on your sides behind you. You were a girl on a mission now.

You tried the next door. Locked.

You tried the next one. It opened with a gentle nudge. It was a bathroom, clearly someone’s private one. There was a door attached to it on the side, probably to a bedroom. You grabbed Dalton’s hand off your side and pulled him inside, slamming the door shut.

It was so tight that you were barely able to both get in there. A walk-in shower was shoved in the corner and a sink was beside it, a toilet on the other side. The sink was just barely jutting out of the wall yet you still managed to hoist yourself up to it. You grabbed Dalton, who was far too happy to oblige, and smashed his lips against yours.

All of the tension that had been living within the two of you seemed to fuel the moment. He parted your legs with his hand so he could stand between them. His boldness only turned you on more. You wrapped a leg around his, both of his hands on your sides, gently hiking up your shirt so he could touch your bare skin.

Your brain was muddled. There was nothing in the world anymore except Dalton and his lips and his hair and his body against yours, hot, flush, more toned than you would’ve thought. His lips left yours to trail down your neck. You moaned, which made him visibly react.

Dalton had never felt better, he was convinced. He could live in this bathroom with you forever and never grow unhappy. You put the back of your head against the mirror. Though your torso moved back he didn’t let it stop him from being pressed against you.

Right then, you would’ve done anything he asked. You were all too happy to melt down to your knees. In fact, you were thinking about it as his lips nipped your collar bone. You let out a sharp breath and was about to push him backwards so you could sink off the counter when the adjoining door flew open.

You both jumped, suddenly broken out of the moment. Even though he was startled, his hands didn’t leave your side, he just backed up a bit.

Chris stood in the doorway, her mouth open wide. Then she started to laugh. A hearty laughter, mixed with genuine surprise.

“Sorry to interrupt!” You grabbed a towel that was on the rack and threw it at her. She dodged it.

“We’re in the middle of something Chris,” Dalton said, voice dangerously low and borderline seductive. You glanced at him, chest still heaving.

“I can tell. Maybe next time you guys should lock the doors. Anyone could walk in.”

“Duly noted,” he said. You gestured for her to leave. She stayed put.

“This must be much better than what happened in the bathroom at the last party you went to Dalton.” He rolled his eyes, not even able to bring himself to care. It crossed your mind to just go back to the dorms so you wouldn’t have to deal with interruptions. It felt so far away. You had only been here 20 minutes but it now felt like 20 minutes too long.

Your hand was still lazily hanging off Dalton’s shoulder.

“This door doesn’t lock,” she said, twisting it.

“Alright,” you said.

“You wanna give someone a free show?” Your knees hurt. Hurt wasn’t exactly the right word. Your knees ached.

“Chris,” you said.

“I’m warning you. Anything anyone sees could be recorded.” You pushed yourself off the counter. Dalton stumbled back. You grabbed his hand.

“We’re going back to the dorms.”

“We just got here!” she exclaimed.

“Dorms,” you said. She laughed a bit, lips parted in pleasant surprise.

“Yes ma’am. I’ll see you guys back there.” You pushed past her.

“Knock when you get there!” Dalton called as you dragged him back down the stairs. Chris rolled her eyes. The things on the counter had been shoved to the ground, toothpaste in the sink, towel on the ground.

“Damn guys.”

#dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert x fem!reader #dalton lambert imagines #insidious imagines

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alastor-is-best-deer-boi · 3 months

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The Littlest Morningstar

Rating: Gen

Warnings: None

Tags: Pre-canon, fluff, domestic fluff, parenthood, canon compliant for the most part I think except maybe one headcanon

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Lucifer and Lilith Morningstar admire their newborn daughter, Charlotte.

Note: After episode five I just had to write this! I had it stuck in my head and needed to get it out. I know posting it right before new episodes tomorrow seems crazy, but better now than tomorrow I think. Hope you enjoy all the fluff! This is my first Hazbin Hotel fic, so I hope it's not ooc.

Also, I know the title is ironic considering Charlie grows up to be taller than her dad, but it fits in this context.

Additionally, we need more little Charlie gifs! I know it's not accurate to the fic, but it's the best I can do.

Also Read on AO3

Lucifer sat slightly curled up with his wife, Lilith, on their bed. The couple leaned against each other, taking in the quiet, peaceful moment with the newest addition to their family, their newborn daughter.

He watched how his wife doted on her sleeping daughter, bundled up comfortably in a soft blanket. Lilith whispered sweet words to the infant, a smile on her face. Lucifer felt like he’d fallen in love with his wife all over again, his heart full of love for his precious family.

“What’s on your mind, dear?” Lilith spoke, still keeping her tone soft to not wake up Charlotte.

Lucifer looked up at her, a small smile on his face. “Just thinking about how lucky I am to have both of you in my life… and, I don’t know, I guess I’m feeling a little overwhelmed with love right now.” He chuckled softly, wiping a tear from his eye.

Lilith beamed, taking his hand in hers for a moment, rubbing gentle circles with her thumb on his skin.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

She let out a small sigh, though still with a happy expression. “Tired… but overjoyed.”

“It was a lot to go through, but you, of course, handled it gracefully throughout the whole thing.” He kissed her hand.

“The whole thing? I feel like you may be exaggerating just a tad.” She joked.

“No, I mean it. How could I possibly lie about my beautiful, strong, and amazing wife, huh? It’s not something I’d do.” He grinned, meaning every word he said.

“Thank you, honey.” Lilith smiled and placed her hand on his cheek, leaning closer to kiss him.

Lucifer gladly accepted, closing his eyes and enjoying her presence. They eventually parted and rested their foreheads together; both smiling.

He pulled away when he heard the tiniest-sounding yawn he’d ever heard in his life; causing a wave of emotions in his heart. Lilith and he looked down at their tiny daughter. Her face had scrunched up, and with some effort, she opened her eyes.

“Oh, just look at her, Luce…” Lilith cooed, making sure her daughter was still settled comfortably in the blanket.

He could feel tears welling up again, quickly wiping them away and smiling. “She’s beautiful.”

“She looks like you, has your eyes.” She murmured, looking down at her with a small smile.

Lucifer felt a swell of pride seeing how similar his daughter’s eyes looked to his. Long ago, he struggled with some of the changes that had been done to him when he fell, the color of his eyes included. But seeing them in his daughter, they suited her wonderfully.

“Her eye shape is like yours, and she kinda has your nose,” he commented. “I think she’s a perfect mix of us, right?”

Lilith couldn’t help but smile again. “Absolutely perfect. Do you want to hold her?”

“Oh, really? You sure you’re ready to hand her over? Just look how small she is, practically the size of my hand! So fragile… I just… well, I…” He chuckled nervously, stammering.

“Honey, you won’t hurt her. It’ll be okay.” She cut off his anxious rambling, attempting to soothe him.

Lucifer looked up at her, slightly furrowing his brows and nodding, attempting to get his nervousness under control. “I’m sorry, you’re right… I guess I’m just…”

“Scared? I understand. You’re not alone in this.” She gave him an empathetic look. “We’ve been practicing for the whole nine months. You got this.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and nodded again. “Thank you, Lili. I’m ready.”

“Don’t forget to unbutton your shirt a bit. Skin-to-skin contact is important for newborns.” She explained.

“Oh, uh, right.” Lucifer muttered and worked on unbuttoning a few top buttons on his shirt. He was significantly dressed down for the whole experience, wearing a long-sleeved plain button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and slacks.

When he was done, he held his arms out, carefully taking the infant in a secure hold as his wife slowly passed her to him. Little Charlotte blinked a couple of times, looking around the room. She had managed to wriggle one of her tiny hands out of the swaddle, still having her little fingers in an instinctive fist.

Lucifer held her close to his heart, hoping she could feel all the overwhelming love coming from the people who loved her most. He smiled, listening to her soft breathing and quiet coos.

“We’re so glad you’re here with us, little one,” he spoke softly, noticing how curious she was, continuing to look around. “Yeah, it’s a big change… all these new sights and senses. But you’re safe here with us. I promise.”

Lilith rested her head against her husband’s shoulder, watching them both lovingly.

Lucifer gently touched her soft, chubby cheeks. His thumb carefully rubbed the adorable little red circles on her face. They were just like the ones on his face.

Charlotte made a little content coo, already heading for the process of babbling. Though it would be a long while to get to that point. She reached her tiny hand out, gripping Lucifer’s finger.

“Wow… she’s way stronger than she looks.” He chuckled softly. “I suppose she takes after her mother.”

Lilith placed her hand on theirs for a moment, not fighting the urge to smile again. “She takes after both of her parents.”

He nodded, feeling tears in his eyes start to well up again. “She’s perfect… thank you for giving me the opportunity to be a father, I mean it.” He looked at Lilith, feeling nothing but pure love.

She smiled and gave him a quick kiss. Next, she kissed her daughter’s head; causing the newborn’s face to scrunch up in surprise for a split second.

Lucifer chuckled at her adorably confused expression. “You okay, Char Char? I guess it’s another new thing to get used to.”

“Char Char?” Lilith repeated, an amused smile showing on her face. “She’s barely hours old and you’ve already come up with a nickname?”

“Ah, well, I guess I couldn’t help myself… she’s just so cute!” He blushed a little from embarrassment.

“Of course she is. Look who her father is.” Lilith teasingly flirted a little. She laughed shortly, seeing how red his face turned.

“Thank you, dear.” Lucifer smiled and looked away for a brief second before looking back down at his daughter, gaining his composure somewhat.

Even though she wasn’t at the age yet to know how to smile, the corner of Charlotte’s mouth pulled up a little, giving the appearance of a smile.

Lucifer rested his face against Lilith’s shoulder for a second. “I don’t know if I have the strength for this Lili.” His voice muffled slightly.

She picked up on why and chuckled quietly. “Why is that?”

“Just—look at her! My heart can’t take how cute she is,” he said in a hushed tone, turning to look at his daughter again.

“I guess you’ll have to get used to it.” She smiled.

“I have no choice.” He sighed, clearly smiling as well.

Charlotte cooed again, and he gently patted her head, feeling the soft golden curls of her hair.

“I can tell she’s getting sleepy again… or maybe hungry… or both.” He furrowed his brows. “I’m going to have to learn all the differences.”

“You’ll get them in time,” she replied.

“Do you want to take her again?” He asked. “I don’t want to hoard all the baby cuddles…”

“If you’re okay with it, and there’s no such thing as hoarding baby cuddles.”

Lucifer scoffed lightheartedly. “Yet.”

He kissed Charlotte’s little red cheeks before handing her back to her mother. He watched her settle back into her mother’s arms, yawning again.

“Oh, you were right about her being hungry… I’m guessing after this she’ll probably fall asleep again,” Lilith spoke, nursing her daughter.

“Sounds about right. That’s the life of a baby, especially one as new as her.”

Eventually, as they had predicted, Charlotte fell asleep. Lucifer listened to her calm breathing again, feeling at peace, which had been hard to come by in his life before.

“We’re parents now,” he stated. “This is our new life…”

“Still feeling glad about it?” Lilith asked.

“I’m overjoyed.” He spoke honestly. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

She nodded. “I’m sure after a bit we’ll settle into our new routine.”

Lucifer looked up at her and smiled, appreciating how wise she was being. What would he do without her?

“I know I sound like a broken record, but I’m so lucky to have you two… I love you both.” He managed to keep his voice steady.

Lilith kissed his cheek. “I feel the same.”

Lucifer hoped he’d be good at this whole father thing. He knew that realistically every parent made mistakes, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t give it his best. And it didn’t change the fact that no matter what, he would love his daughter with everything he had.

“I love you, Charlotte. More than anything.” He thought.

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juletheghoul · 7 months

Text

AN: The gif of this man as a sheriff, sent my ass into a SPIRAL and this is what happened. I originally wanted to post this for my birthday, but with Canadian Thanksgiving falling on the same weekend there was no way I would have been able to finish lol. I am still trying to post more often, please be patient with me, hopefully this makes up for the lack of posting for the last few weeks. Special thanks to @wheresarizona for betaing and just general wonderfulness, to @just-here-for-the-moment for screaming at me through comments and in whatsapp over this, and to @frannyzooey for screaming at me through discord lol (And for making me some super awesome edits that I will post after!) Hope you enjoy xox.

(PS, I have an idea for a part 2, let me know if you’d want to read it!)

Pairing; Sheriff Frankie Morales x f!reader (Blue / Bluebell as a nickname)

Warnings; sweet, lovestruck Frankie needs his own warning I think-piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, Frankie eats pussy like the champion he is, a non-consensual creampie, angst, longing, yearning, some violence (involving guns / war, accurate for the time period-I tried not to let it get too gory or graphic) brothel mentions - let me know if I missed anything.

Word count; 13k 😅

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

Dust swirled around him as he made his way into town from the train station, the sun beating down on his every step, and although he hadn’t been home in over a decade, he still knew the way just as well as if he’d never left. Difference was he’d left practically a boy, and now he’d come back a man.

People he both did and didn’t recognize passed him as he carried his suitcase down the sunny high street, some of them smiled, most of them ignored him. It made no difference to him. He would be their new sheriff just the same. Besides, there was only one person he cared to see again. There would be time enough for that later, though. First, he had to get settled.

The brothel was busy, a surefire sign of the town’s growth evident in the number of horses tied up in front.

“Well, hey there, sugar–” He tipped his hat and smiled at the young lady calling out to him, smiling as she leaned against one of the columns flanking the entrance, “-you coming to make a woman out of me?” She batted her big eyes at him.

“Don’t count on it.” His tone was polite, his smile in place. She tsked, giggling at his manners before being called away by someone inside.

Sweat was starting to collect on his brow with the effort of lugging his suitcase all the way from the train station, and he let out a relieved sigh when he finally stepped through the doors of the sheriff's office. It was somehow even hotter on the inside.

“Can I help you?” A kid no older than he’d been when he’d left greeted him from one of the two desks in the small room.

“I’m Francisco Morales, I’m here to see–”

“He’s here to see me, he’s my replacement.” A grizzled but familiar voice sounded from behind him, “You’re early.” The older man walked past him on his way to the second, bigger desk, where he put his cowboy hat down before turning to face him once more. “I was under the impression you’d be here by the end of this month. You in that much of a hurry to retire me, boy?”

He set the suitcase down before wiping at the back of his neck with his handkerchief.

“No sir, just wanted to get settled in, have some time to reacquaint myself.” He put the cloth away. “Fix up the house before starting. Thought I’d check in with you first, though.” He’d gotten in plenty of trouble growing up, and most of the time, this man had been the one to pull him by his ear and make him smarten up. It was a novelty to be in this office and not be in trouble.

“Well, you’ve checked. Go on and get settled. The desk and the badge will still be here in a week.” Sheriff Carson had always been one to speak plainly, and he did so now.

“Yes, sir.” Francisco picked the suitcase back up and braced himself for the glaring rays that would greet him just outside.

“Son,” He turned at the sound of the old man’s voice, “I was sorry to hear about your folks. They were good people.” He nodded back at the old man once and made his way back out the door.

—

“Try again.” You crossed your arms, “We both know I’m not paying that much.” You kept both your voice and expression as neutral as you could, keeping your real interest in the supplies he had close to your chest. Interest and necessity always cost more.

He narrowed his eyes, and you raised your eyebrows in return, holding your ground.

“Price is an even one hundred dollars; had to ride halfway around the world to get most of it-” You curled your lip in disgust.

“Bullshit, Dale! You rode to the nearest town, and that’s only a day's ride at the most. I’ll pay fifty, and that’s twice what it’s worth.”

“You tryna rob me, woman?” He crossed his arms, mirroring you, “I’ll go down to eighty, but that’s final.” He rose to his full height, his posture making him look like some giant, petulant child.

“Seventy-five. And I want some tobacco.”

“Goddamn, you drive a hard bargain. Fine.” He extended his hand, and you shook it with a satisfied smile.

“Good man. Pleasure doin’ business with you.”

“Yeah, yeah, robbin’ me more like.” He grumbled good-naturedly and unloaded the supplies while you counted out the money to pay him with. “Goin’ back in a couple weeks, make sure you let me know what you’ll be needin’ before I go.” He tucked the money away and left. The rest of the morning was spent restocking the various bottles and cabinets with your new stock.

It was therapeutic, sitting behind the big mahogany counter to take inventory of your shop. The shop that had taken you years to finally acquire. Every so often, you took stock of all the work you’d put into it and felt a significant amount of pride in what you’d accomplished. All of it done on your own.

The customers came and went throughout the day, buying tinctures and tonics, and you helped them all to the best of your ability until the end of the day eventually found you, and you locked up the shop. With a final sweep to ensure everything was in its right place before closing up for the night.

The sun was blessedly low as you made your way home, but the streets were busy. Ethel, the youngest and friendliest of the girls who worked in the brothel a few doors down from your shop, was smoking her pipe on the porch, waving and smiling as you passed.

“Hey Ethel, how you keeping?” You called out to her, “Fall in love again today?” She laughed, a plume of smoke wreathing around the halo of her hair.

“Of course, saw a tall drink of water today. Think I’m gonna marry him.” She winked, a devilish smile on her pretty face.

“Uh oh, sounds like he’s in trouble.” You laughed, waving as you passed by the house.

“He will be if he ever comes in here, bye Honey, see you later.”

The buildings thinned as you moved further and further away from the main street, giving you a clearer view of the surrounding ranches and houses scattered throughout the plains. Your own house came into view, and you smiled to see it. The view of it had the pride swelling again; it had been run down and ragged when you’d purchased it, but money wasn’t the only thing you’d invested. That house was the result of your blood, sweat, and tears. Hours and hours of elbow grease, blisters, and bruises, cuts, and had you not been very careful, it would have cost you a few broken bones as well.

There was another house on the way to yours though, one that wiped the smile right off your face as you passed it. It was a house that drew your eye no matter how many times you walked past, no matter how many times you tried to ignore it. It was empty now, but years ago, it had been full of life, full of love and mischief and happiness. It had been full of hope and promises. It was empty now, one of the windows broken, much like the promises had been.

You couldn’t help but watch it as you passed; something flashed in the window, but you ignored it. There hadn’t been anyone there for years.

Wish it would just burn down or sell. Wish the ground would open up and swallow it whole.

Your feet ache when you finally make it to your house, eager to unlace the boots imprisoning them. You did your best to hurry through all your chores and feed yourself, the promise of a hot bath and sweet-smelling soap carrying you through.

—

The house was so much worse than he’d thought it would be, and he’d thought it’d be bad. A couple of windows had broken, and half a town's worth of dirt and dust had blown in through them. He sighed at the state of it, knowing his mother would never have let it get this bad, and for once, he was grateful she wasn’t around to see it.

He set his suitcase down and made a mental list of what needed to be done. First thing first, he needed a few things.

With a wagon full of supplies and considerably less money in his pocket, he began the long process of making it habitable. With a stiff brush and an even stiffer broom, the dirt was returned to its rightful place outside the house. The windows that weren’t broken were opened to let in fresh air, and floors and counters were washed. Food and supplies were put away; the bed was made with new, expensive sheets and linens.

He worked his fingers to the bone throughout the day and most of the night until he’d done as much as he could. There was nothing to be done about the windows; the glass had been ordered, but it would be a few days, possibly even weeks, until he could fix those.

By the time he’d boiled water to bathe himself with, he could barely keep his eyes open, and once clean, he dropped into bed and into the sweet abyss of sleep.

It was strange for him to wake up in the same house he’d grown up in, even stranger for him to wake up in the bedroom his parents had owned. He’d been so dead tired that he’d forgotten to close the shutters, and the room was flooded with the golden light of dawn, chasing away any and all hope for a few extra hours of rest.

Those earlier years were vivid in his mind now that he was here, in this house. He could practically hear the younger, wilder version of himself climbing out his window to go find her. Could still taste the stolen kisses in his mouth, could still hear her delighted laugh when he’d wrap her up in his arms and declare his undying love.

He rose, trying and failing to leave the memories of her behind, and got ready for the day. The coffee he’d bought from the general store wasn’t half bad, and he drank the whole pot with gusto, making a mental note to make sure he picked up some more before he ran out.

The current sheriff didn’t want him underfoot while he settled his affairs, and he didn’t plan on making Carson’s life harder, but he did want to reacquaint himself with the town he’d soon be the law in. He figured the best way to do that would be to go into the businesses and talk to the people, and make his presence known.

You should be looking for her, give her an explanation–demand one in return.

He shook his head, ignoring the rational part of his brain. After all, he didn’t even know if she was still here. He thought about her as he left his house, imagining he could see the two of them as they’d been before. He, in his transition into manhood, her in the bloom of her youth, the two of them inseparable. The ghosts caught up to him though, and then he saw her–the real her, standing just outside the apothecary, waving someone away.

She saw him too, and his heart raced. She was even more beautiful to him than he remembered; it was as though for a brief moment, all of the years between them melted away.

A very brief moment.

The look of shock and hurt, and what he hoped had been love on her face was replaced with a look that, thankfully, could not hurt him. It was pure and unadulterated anger, no–fury.

His legs moved, bringing him towards her. This was definitely not how he wanted this meeting to go. He just hoped she’d listen, but judging by the way she stuck up her middle finger at him, it didn’t look good.

–

The nerve of him. The unmitigated gall!

“Wait–” His voice sounded as you turned to make your way back inside the shop.

“No!” You yelled back over your shoulder, not even bothering to face him, even as your heart raced to see him again.

“Goddamnit, woman, wait! Let me talk to you–” He was closer than you thought, barely managing to avoid you slamming the door in his face.

“Don’t you ‘woman’ me, Francisco Morales!” you yelled up into his handsome face, hating how gorgeous he looked, how his neck- one of your favourite parts of him- stared you in the face. “Do me a favour and take off for another fifteen years. Leave me be.”

“Come on, Bluebell, you gotta let me explain.” He managed to slip through the doors before you had a chance to lock them, but it didn’t matter, the pet name he called you stopped you in your tracks and rocketed the fury to new heights.

“Bluebell?” You couldn’t hide the edge of violence in your voice, “How dare you call me that? I am nothing but a stranger to you at this point. You lost any and all privileges to call me anything at all when you left.” He was taller than when he left, but his eyes still burned into yours the way they’d done when you were young and in love.

It would make you laugh if you weren’t still so hurt about how everything had gone down. The way he was standing in front of you, hands on his hips, frustrated frown in place. You didn’t give him an inch, but it hurt to admit just how badly you’d missed him. You shooed the swirl of feelings for him away, focusing on the one easiest to deal with: anger.

“Will you listen to me at least?”

“Why should I?” You turned from him, busying yourself with putting a few of your jars back in their place.

“Well, because I owe you an explanation–” You let out a bark of cruel laughter.

“That’s an understatement.”

“-I know, I always intended on coming back for you. You have to know that.”

“Do I? Do I just have to know that Francisco?” You all but slammed the jar into its slot on the big cabinet, taking up the whole wall behind the counter. “You know, you have some goddamn nerve–” the little bell above the door jingled when the Sheriff walked in, his bushy, white eyebrows raised into his hairline as the look on your face. It didn’t take an overly in-depth investigation to see that Francisco wasn’t exactly in your good books.

“You never could stay out of trouble, could you, son?” He moved past him to stand at the counter before you, “You want me to come back later, sweetheart?”

You sighed, doing your best to smile at the older man.

“Not at all. I have the tonic ready; give me just a moment to wrap it up for you.” You did your best to smile and ignore the big, aggravatingly effective puppy dog eyes shining at you from your peripheral. “Here you are, Sherriff, that’ll be thirty-five cents.” He dug into his pocket, counting out the right amount and handing it over before thanking you and turning to leave.

“You make sure you let me know if you need anything–” He gave Francisco a frown, “-and I mean anything.”

“Yes sir, thank you.” With another jingle, he was gone, but other customers made their way inside, and Francisco sighed.

“You can go ahead and leave. I am at my place of business.”

“I will come and find you later. Then we can actually talk.” He took a few steps back, his hand on the door handle.

“I won’t hold my breath.”

—

Much to his annoyance, the sheriff was waiting for him outside of the apothecary.

“Can I help you with something, sir?” He spoke the words through a tired sigh.

“Boy, I do believe that woman hates you.”

“No sir, that woman loves me. If she hated me, she would have shot me.” He moved away from the sheriff, ignoring the raucous laughter that followed his every step. He ignored it and set about doing what he needed to do, telling himself that he’d be able to deal with it later when she let him explain himself. It made no matter what he told himself, though, his mind wouldn’t let her go.

Instead of using the time productively, he found himself counting the hours until she closed up the shop, loitering around the door like some lovestruck teenager. He scoffed to himself, ignoring the cloying heat of the sun. Isn’t that all he was? Just some lovestruck fool? She couldn’t know that, though, not with the way things had gone down.

Any hope he had of her cooling down throughout the day died at the narrowing of her eyes, her expression now as she locked the apothecary door so different from the one that had kept him going throughout the years he’d spent away.

“Still here, shocking.” She waltzed past him, “Just leave me be.”

“I can’t do that., I need you to listen to me.” It took him a few long strides to catch up with her, “Can I please just explain?”

“Why? What does it matter at this point? I don’t want to hear you–” He stood in her way, blocking her path on the dusty sidewalk.

“Listen! Please!” He held onto her arms, keeping her still so he could look into her eyes. “I know you aren’t happy with me–” She scoffed, and he spoke over her, “I know, but you have to know that I missed you all this time. I didn’t want it to happen like this, but I can’t help that now.” She shrugged out of his grip, crossing her arms.

“You okay, Honey? This man botherin’ you?” An older woman shouted from the porch of the brothel, her hand on the gun at her hip.

“No, Ma’am, I’m fine. I know him–well, I knew him.” She turned towards the madam and smiled, “I got it under control.” She sighed and walked around him, turning to him after a few steps. “You have until I get home.”

He rushed behind her and kept the smile to himself.

“I see you’ve done really well for yourself. It makes me really happy to see how you’ve been–”

“This isn’t an explanation. You’re wasting your time with flattery I won’t respond to.”

“Right, I’m sorry.” He frowned, trying to keep pace with her. “I sent you letters–”

“You sent me a few letters, all of which I responded to.” She spoke loudly, cutting him off. “A few letters in almost fifteen years–”

“I sent you dozens of letters.” It was his turn to frown and her turn to slow down, “I wrote to you as often as I could, even after I stopped getting your responses.” He knew he wasn’t exactly the kind of man her parents had wanted her to end up with. He remembered the sour looks on their faces when he’d come calling.

“I got a few letters the first year and then nothing else.” Her expression was wary, her eyes narrowed. “Did you really write to me? Or are you saying that so I’ll forgive you?” She crossed her arms, stopping to gauge the truth in his words.

“I wrote to you for years, figured I would have to come and talk to you in person, but then I thought maybe you’d met someone else, or moved away, or worse. Then I told myself I’d come and find you, but life is the way it is, and things got in the way. When I heard they needed a new sheriff, I sent word to Carson to see if he’d consider hiring me–I was shocked when he responded yes.” She stared at him, eyes bright but mistrustful. “I swear on my mother's grave.” He took her hand, holding it to his heart. “I should have come sooner-” She pulled her hand away gently, fire still burning in her gaze, but now it was coloured with sadness as well as fury.

“Yes, yes, you should have.” She sighed and continued walking towards their homes, “I am so angry at you, Francisco. I am angry you left and angry you came back.” She looked away from him, her hands flying to her face momentarily before facing forward again.

“I know.” His house came into view, and he fought the urge to invite her in. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.” She didn’t respond, only kept her eyes forward. “What time do you leave in the morning?”

“What?” She frowned.

“What time do you usually leave? I’m not sure what time the Apothecary opens–”

“It opens at eight, but I like to get there early. Why?”

“May I accompany you? I would like to walk with you if I could.” He knew she wouldn’t forgive him so quickly. Her fiery temper was one of the things he’d always loved about her.

“You want to walk me? I am fully capable-”

“I never said you weren’t. I would still like to walk with you. I’ve missed talking to you, it would be a nice way to…reconnect.” He chanced a smile, hoping it would still have the effect it used to.

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t smile in return. Her house was closer now, his time with her coming to an end for the day.

“I suppose I cannot stop you.” It wasn’t a yes, but it definitely wasn’t a no.

“See you tomorrow then, goodnight Bluebell.” He stopped a few yards from her door, waiting until she was safely tucked inside before turning and going home.

The moon was high when you finally dug out the letters you’d hidden away deep in the chest at the end of your bed. The paper had yellowed, and you didn’t even bother getting up off the floor. With shaky hands, you untied the little bundle and spread them out in front of you, trying your hardest not to tear up at the little hearts and flowers he’d drawn in the curled-up corners.

My Dearest Bluebell,

I cannot even begin to tell you how much I miss you. Things here move so quickly, but I’m doing so much, making more money than I’ve ever seen! More than enough for us to start our lives together–

You pushed the letter away, finally letting go of the sob that had been squatting in your throat since seeing him earlier that morning. The love he’d had was so evident in his scratchy script, and the pain of his apparent silence reared its head in your soul to see it again after all of the years you’d survived without him. The last letter he’d sent held no clue as to why he’d ever stop writing, and now a nagging suspicion filled the corners of your mind.

Your mother had made it more than clear that Francisco wasn’t her first choice for you. She’d treated him less than kindly whenever he came calling, would turn up her nose at him whenever she’d seen the two of you together, and had smiled a big, cruel smile at the news that he’d be leaving. Would she have gone so far as to hide letters from him? Something in your heart said yes.

Suddenly, it was too much to see his words surrounding you, and you gathered them up hastily, tossing them back into the chest before surrendering to the exhaustion in your heart and in your bones and getting into bed. You tried to think about something else as you lay there, anything else–but he kept popping up, making you wonder–against your will–whether or not he’d actually be there in the morning.

He didn’t let you wonder.

His heavy knock made you practically jump out of your skin as you did your best to tie the laces of your corset. You chewed on your bottom lip, annoyed with how you rushed to throw on your dressing robe, sighing at the speed with which you made it to the door.

He smiled as you opened the door, testing every measure of self-control you’d built up in his absence with a single dimple.

“You’re here.”

“Yes, just like I said–I figured it would be best to be early.” His gaze raked over you in your half-dressed state, “You look lovely.”

“Sure I do.” You scoffed, “I need more time. I usually leave a little later.” He scratched at the back of his neck, unsure what to say, and you had to work extra hard to keep from laughing at him. “Come in then. You can wait in the kitchen while I finish getting dressed.” You turned and left then, leaving him to close the door.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You kept the door slightly ajar in your bedroom, your heart racing to know that after all this time–he was in the same house as you. You shook your head, shooing away the novelty of his presence to call up the anger and the fury that had kept you from falling apart in his absence.

“The house looks great!” He called from the kitchen, “You shoulda seen the state of mine when I got here.”

You bit your lip, relishing the deep tones of his voice as they filled the house.

“Still haven’t been able to fix the windows–had half a desert's worth of sand in the house. Took me forever to clean it.” He continued speaking as you finished dressing, completely unaware of the way you contemplated whether or not to use some of your very pricey, very precious perfume. You ignored the disappointed little voice in your head as you dabbed a few drops behind your ears and on the inside of your wrists.

“-hopefully, they'll come in by the end of the week-” He was still speaking when you made your way back into the kitchen where he sat at your little table, the long lines of him entirely too big and too wonderful for the tiny space.

“Have you eaten?” You cut off his speech, pulling down the cast iron pan from the rack above the woodfire stove.

“I, uh, I had some coffee.”

“So, no?” You shoved some kindling into the open door of the oven, striking a match to light it.

“Well, no–”

“Okay then.” There was enough time, and you got to work.

“Can I help?”

“No–actually, yes. You can go fetch some water from the well out back.” You shoved the big kettle into his hands and sent him on his way, where he went without comment.

Soon enough, you had biscuits baking and coffee brewing, and the house smelled better than any perfume you could buy. You once again ignored the little voice, the one that curiously sounded like your mother when you put out both the butter and the jam.

When they were out of the oven and steaming, you couldn’t help but smile at how well they'd turned out.

“It smells like heaven in here.” You could practically hear him drooling, and it was with a great sense of both satisfaction and pride that you watched him throw caution to the wind and eat one without waiting for it to cool down. He moaned at the first bite, making your heart soar and silencing the mean little voice.

“You like them?” You had to hear it, had to hear the words in his voice.

“Like them? Honey, I’d kill for them.” You narrowed your eyes at him but let the endearment go without comment. Already, you were softening up for him. “I could eat this whole goddamn plate.” He pulled another one open, no doubt burning the tips of his fingers but continuing on just the same, slathering it with both butter and jam before taking a huge, steam-filled bite.

You ate yours slower, unsure what you liked best, the biscuit or watching him eat.

He poured you a cup of coffee before pouring one for himself, and for a moment, your heart shattered at how right it felt to have him here. For the first time since he’d left, you let yourself feel just how lonely you’d been without him.

“I know you’re angry with me.” He put the remnants of his biscuit down, “I know you think I abandoned you, picked up and found a new life outside of this place, but you have to know–” He reached over, taking your hand in his, “I never stopped thinking about you.” The tears flowed without your permission, what felt like years worth of them dripping steadily onto the bodice of your dress. “I have loved you since I was a boy, and I should have come back the second I thought something was wrong. I’ll never forgive myself for letting you worry or letting you imagine for a single moment that you weren’t everything to me. I know it’ll take time for you to trust me again, but I’ll work as hard as I can.”

You wanted to rip your hand away, to scream in his face and tell him to give you peace, but you couldn’t. Instead, you let the tears fall, let him stand and tentatively pull you towards him, let him crush you in the first hug you’ve had in years. For a moment, it’s as though you cannot get close enough, your hands like claws digging into the fabric of his overcoat, knuckles cramping from the force of your grip, and he sighs into your hair. The relief of the painfully familiar smell of him is so great that it almost knocks you off your feet.

When you finally push him away, you know your eyes are puffy.

“I believe you–” He smiles through his own tears, “-but I am still angry. I cannot just let go of my hurt. Not so quickly.” It takes everything in you, but you untangle yourself from him softly. “I have been living in this for so long, I don’t even know how to stop feeling this way.” The handkerchief that usually lived in your pocket made itself useful now. “I don’t even know where to begin. I loved you so much–” His face contorted in pain, the use of the word in the past tense like a stab to his heart. “-I don’t think I ever stopped. It’s the reason it hurts so much.” He let out a shaky breath, smiling a watery smile.

“I know, I’ll work for it, I promise.”

“I know.”

–

He felt like he was flying. His steps were so light, surely he’d grown wings. He knew it was going to be a long road for them, but for the first time in years, he had hope.

He couldn’t keep the smile off his face throughout the day, the feel of her in his arms, the smell of her in his nose, all of it made him feel like any errant puff of wind would blow him away. He had a skip in his step as he made his way over to the Sheriff's office, uncaring whether the man wanted him there or not. He had to keep his time away from her occupied with something, and learning what it took to do his job effectively was the next best thing.

“I haven’t seen that look on your face in years, it meant trouble back then, and I doubt it’s changed.” Sheriff Carson frowned at him, “Your house all fixed up then?” He didn’t stop what he was doing, instead continuing as he spoke.

“As fixed as it can be, sir, until the replacement window panes come in.” He sat in the chair in front of Carson without invitation. The man only grunted in response.

“I want to start early, get a feel for what you do so I can do it properly.” At this, the older man looked up.

“I know I wasn’t the easiest kid–” The older man scoffed at that but let him continue. “-Yes, yes, I know. I was a helion. I’m a man now, and I’ve grown up. I just want to keep this town safe, want to do my job.” The older man's eyes narrowed, and Francisco frowned. “Why did you say yes when I applied?”

“Part curiosity, part hope, I guess.” He set the pen down, leaning back in his chair, his arms coming to rest crossed on his belly. “You’ve always been a smart kid, Frank, and if you really are as grown up as I think you are, I think you got the makings to be a great sheriff. Especially if you’re anything like your daddy.” It was probably the nicest thing Carson had ever said to him. He didn’t know how to respond.

“I just don’t want you to hurt that girl–” He raised his hands to forestall any response, “I know what you felt for her was real, but she was a shell when you left, and I don’t want to see her like that again. We clear?”

“Yes, sir. I’m here. I’m home for good.”

“Good, now let's get to work.”

Francisco was no stranger to hard work, but Carson seemed determined to make him jump through every single hoop in order to prove he could do this job. It didn’t deter him in the slightest, not with the promise of the life he’d always wanted so close on the horizon. Instead, he took notes, followed Carson, did everything he asked, and paid as much attention as he could, but secretly counted the hours until he would see her again.

He heard the gunshots as he organized the disaster that was Carson’s filing system.

“Suppose you oughta come with.” Carson slipped his holster on, handing a gun to him before leading the way toward the sound.

A half-naked man was rolling around on the ground just outside the brothel, clutching at a blood-soaked arm. His eyes were wild with pain and anger, and he only seemed to get more frantic at the sight of the two of them approaching.

“Sheriff! Arrest that woman!” He pointed with his good hand at the young woman on the porch. “Crazy bitch shot my damn arm-”

“You put your hands on me, and you lose your hand! Them’s my rules!” She was screaming mad, a painful-looking shiner blooming on her pale face.

“Enough!” Carson’s voice rang out loud enough to silence everyone within earshot, “Now–Who’s gonna tell me what happened? I can listen, or I can arrest the lot of you and be done with it.” He rested his weight on one leg, hand resting on the gun at his hip.

The madame stepped out from behind the younger woman, her face austere.

“I think it’s pretty obvious; he took a liberty, smacked my girl around, and he got bit.” She put her arm around the younger woman's shoulder. “Ethel is one of my best. Now she’s got this to deal with. He’s lucky she didn’t shoot his pecker off.” The man scoffed, pulling his shirt on as best he could before moving towards the women.

“I don’t think so, pal,” Francisco spoke directly to him, pulling his own gun and holding it at his side in warning.

“I got witnesses, Carson. Lock this fucker up, and let us get back to work.”

“I’ll need to come in and get some statements, Mabel. You know that as well as I do. Frank, take this moron over to get patched up.”

“So I’m just gonna lose my fuckin’ hand!?” He was incensed.

“Lucky you didn’t lose your life. Now get out of my sight. I’m gonna give you until sundown to be out of here; if not, you can spend an undetermined amount of time in my jailhouse.” Carson’s voice held no room for anything but complete obedience, and after a tense moment, all of the air went out of him, and he let Francisco lead him toward the town physician.

You tried not to be upset when he wasn’t waiting for you outside the apothecary at the end of the day; after all, he hadn’t said he would be. Instead, you locked up as usual and set about making your way home.

“Bluebell!” His voice rang out from behind you, making your head whip around. Your frown turned from annoyance to worry at the sight of dried blood on the white of his shirt. Your hands clutched at the collar of his shirt before you had a chance to catch yourself.

“What happened?” Any and all propriety went right out the window with how frantically you pulled at his layers to see where the blood had come from. “Did you get hurt?”

“No, no, I’m fine–it’s not mine.” there was something in his voice that brought you back to your senses, a tenderness that pierced the very heart of you. His hands held onto yours for a moment before you pulled them away slowly.

“Oh. I’m glad.”

“There was some trouble at the brothel. One of the girls shot some idiot who got handsy. I had to bring him to the physician.” The thought of him anywhere near the brothel made your hackles rise. You stamped the feeling away and continued your walk back home. He fell into step beside you. “What was that?” His smile was big now.

“What was what?”

“That look you just gave me.” He bumped his shoulder into yours, and you frowned.

“What are you talking about? I didn't give you any look.”

“You gave me a look, Blue, when I said the word brothel, a jealous look.” His smile was so wide you wanted to smack him.

“I did not. You are free to do as you please. We aren’t married.” You kept your eyes on the horizon and did your best to ignore the bark of laughter he let out beside you.

“Fine, I’ll drop it. I got no business in a brothel anyway. Even if I’m not married, yet.”

You sighed, ignoring just how right he was.

There was a man with a wagon waiting just outside his house as you passed it.

“Can I help you?” He called out to the man outside his house. You can’t help but notice how he put himself between you and the stranger.

“I have some window panes to deliver.” He walked around to the back of the wagon, uncovering it to show the cargo

“Oh! Yes, I’ll take those.” He jogged over to the man, helping to bring the glass inside. You followed him despite yourself, unable to keep the frown off your face at the state of his home. You were still looking around when everything had been brought inside, and the man had been sent away. “It still needs work, but at least the windows will be intact.” You could see how he surveyed his home, his eye just as critical if not more than yours.

You set down your things.

“Need to boil some water.” You hauled out the biggest pot you could find.

“What?” He came over and took the pot from you, putting it onto the stove for you.

“We need to boil water to clean these floors, and we should wash these windows too.”

“Yes, but I can do it–”

“Francisco. Go get water so we can boil it and get this place in order.” You raised your eyebrows at him and relished the way he watched you. He’d always liked it when you were assertive.

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled before heading out to his own well.

Once the water was boiled, you got to work with a stiff brush while he set about replacing the broken windows. It wasn’t easy work, getting down on your knees to scrub the years worth of dirt and dust out of every nook and cranny embedded in the floorboards. It was worth it, though, to look up every so often and see the hard lines of him working, both his jacket and waistcoat shed and thrown onto a chair; his shirtsleeves rolled up.

He’d always been beautiful to you, with his big brown eyes and his golden skin, the maddening dimple, even the curve in his nose. He was even more gorgeous now, with age and experience etched on his face, even hardened, he could still make you swoon.

You gasped at the sting, snatching your hand back cat-quick. Blood beaded on your finger and dripped down onto the freshly washed floor, an errant piece of broken glass sitting on the floor. It was a few seconds before he was gathering you up from off the floor and guiding you to one of the chairs.

“I’m okay, just a little cut.” He moved away for a moment, moving towards the back of the house. “Really, Frankie, I’m fine.” He came back with a few pieces of clean linen and a little jar of something clear; you can only imagine what it is.

“I know. I still want to clean and wrap it, though.” He set his things down, moving to the remaining boiled water on the stove to dampen one of the pieces of cloth, using it to clean the wound before opening the little jar. His eyes found yours then– ”You gonna be brave for me?” He held it over the cut, waiting for you to answer. “It’s going to hurt, but I know you’re gonna be good for me.” He winked and then splashed a little bit of the moonshine onto it. He may as well have stuck a hot poker into your hand. “There there, Blue, almost done.”

By the time the stinging abates, your finger is wrapped up, and any evidence of injury is gone.

“Thank you.” You held your hand close to your chest, ignoring the way it shook a bit.

“Of course, I think we’re done for today. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I would like for you to eat something.” He pulled out what looked like some crusty bread and some dry meat. “It’s not much, but it’s what I have for right now.” He set it down in front of you, giving you everything he had to offer, and for the first time in years, you smiled at him.

“Are you done with the windows?”

“Yes, I just need to get rid of these broken pieces.” He gestured to the pile on the counter.

“Okay, let's go back to my place. I can make us dinner.” You stood to move, and he followed you, protesting for a moment.

“But your hand–”

“My hand is fine. Let’s go.” You moved to pick up your things, but he stopped you, gently knocking your hand aside to carry them for you.

The stew came together as quickly as it could with the way your hand throbbed. The bread, too, and soon enough, you were both sitting at the table eating the steaming food quietly. He ate with gusto, and you wondered briefly if he’d been eating well in his time away. He looked strong, but then again, he’d always been broad.

He pushed his bowl away with a dreamy smile, his hands coming to rest on his belly.

“That was the best thing I’ve eaten since I left. Aside from the biscuits this morning, I mean.”

“I’m glad.” You finished eating as he sat there, enjoying his company far more than you’d ever admit. Once you were done, he grabbed your bowl and put it into the sink, pouring some of the leftover well water to begin cleaning up. “You don’t have to do that–”

“I know. You don’t have to feed me either. I’ll just clean these and then get out of your hair.” You sighed, knowing you wouldn’t convince him otherwise.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you, you’ve fed me better today than in the whole time I was gone.” You smiled to yourself, half exhilarated, half annoyed at just how much your anger at him had crumbled. “Okay-” He set the last plate on the drying rack before drying his hands, “-I desperately need a bath. I’ll get out of your way. See you tomorrow morning?”

“If you want.” You followed behind him, trying your hardest to keep the hope out of your voice.

“Of course, I want to see you tomorrow.” He moved in quickly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before you had time to protest. “Goodnight Blue.” With a smile and a wink, he’s gone.

Weeks passed, and it could not be said that Francisco Morales wasn’t a persistent man. No matter how hard you tried to hang onto that anger, he excelled in chipping away at it. He was true to his word about working on building back the trust that had been lost, spending any time away from his work with Carson split between you, and working on his house.

He’d become quite the handyman in his time away, and he showcased that in the work he did in both his house and yours. He’d noticed your laundry line had broken and fixed it aggravatingly quickly. He spotted a few leaky spots in your roof and had them fixed at no cost to you, making you wonder just how much money he’d made while away. Aside from the windows and the cleaning you’d both done at his place, he’d replaced the more rundown furniture, and while it was missing some of the personal touches of his mother–it was definitely comfortable and livable once again.

The intense loneliness and craving for intimacy had also hit you full force with his return. You found yourself thinking back to how things had been when you’d been young and wildly in love with each other. How his mouth had always found yours, how he seemed to need to be close to you, his arm often around your shoulder, his hand always finding a way to clasp yours.

It was worse at night when other memories floated out of the isthmus of your mind, filling it with the visions of him above you, his tongue in your mouth, and his cock deep inside. You’d been young but eager to explore one another, and he had been nothing if not resourceful in finding any and all opportunities to get you out of your clothing. Now, the days were filled with new tortures, and you found yourself feeling jealous of the beads of sweat that rolled down his back, envious of the way his shirts seemed to hold him so tightly.

The way his eyes tracked you didn’t help the situation; they were just as wild, just as beautiful, and just as open and honest as they’d always been. His desire for you shining out at you through their honeyed gaze.

He’d been busy that morning, well and truly the sheriff now, and with that came more time away, giving you, in turn, more time alone. Or so you’d thought. The knock was loud, solid, and instantly, you knew it was him. You groaned, staring at the perfectly steaming water of the tub surrounding you.

“Not now, Frankie!” You called out to him from the back of the house–hoping for a moment he’d let you enjoy the sweet steam surrounding you. His knock came again, and you huffed, stepping out of the oasis and wrapping yourself up in your dressing gown. “Frankie, I’m kind of in the middle of something–” You opened the door to him, and instantly, his gaze raked over you, no doubt seeing the way the damp fabric clung to your body, leaving nothing to the imagination. The dumbstruck look on his face filled you with such satisfaction that you let him look his fill before moving your eyes to bring his attention back up. “Can I help you with something?”

“Uh–” He stumbled for a moment, his eyes moving back down to where the gown split, to where your leg and most of your thigh peeked through. “Um–I uh…”

“...You…?”

“Um…Sorry. I brought you a gift.” He shook his head for a minute before decidedly looking you in the eye. “I remember I took your copy; brought you a new one.” He held the book out to you, and for a moment, you forgot to be alluring.

“Jane Eyre?” You grabbed the book, opening it up quickly.

“I remember you reading it to me; thought maybe I could read it to you sometime.” His dimple shined, and you couldn’t help but leap into his arms.

“Oh, Frankie, I love it! I have been looking for a copy forever!” You pressed your face into his neck and relished how tightly he held onto you in return, relished the feeling of his nose buried in the crook of your neck.

“God, Blue, you smell good enough to eat.” His words, his voice, they ran down your spine like a drop of ice on a hot day, hardening your nipples and making you ache for him. You pulled away, biting your lip as you stared at his mouth.

“You could come in… and read to me?” He smiled and closed the door. “I was just in the bath. I could get in and cover myself with a cloth. You could read to me while I bathe.” He nodded slowly, gulping before following you, making sure to grab a chair on his way.

“Give me one minute to get in.” You closed the door, heart thumping at how the colour had gone out of his eyes, leaving them blown black. Within a few tense moments, you were back in the tub with the hangover of the lining cloth covering you under the milky, soapy water. “Okay–come in.”

He looked almost pained as he pulled up the chair beside you, his eyes once again greedy in their quest to map whatever part of you he could see, which admittedly is more than you planned to show him with how transparent the lining is.

“Shall I start at the beginning?” He flipped open the book, but his eyes were still locked on you.

“Yes, please.”

“Very well.” He took a deep breath, and began, his deep, soothing voice the perfect accompaniment to the steaming water.

“Folds of scarlet drapery shut in my view to the right hand; to the left were the clear panes of glass, protecting, but not separating me from the drear November day–Oh, sorry, I already read that.” You smiled to yourself, enjoying the way he couldn’t seem to focus, the way he kept losing his place, and admittedly, it took everything in you not to pull him into the tub with you.

“That’s okay. Can you help me with this?” You offered him the soapy washcloth, “My back? It’s so hard to get it on my own.” You batted your eyes at him, smiling the smile he’d never been able to resist, hoping it still worked its magic on him.

“Let me rinse my hands first. I don’t want to muddy up this paradise.” He knocked the chair over in his haste to reach the washbasin you had on the counter. By the time he was finished and righting his seat, he had shed his topmost layers and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his biceps.

You leaned forward, giving him access to the skin of your back and sighing at the closeness of him when he pressed the soapy cloth to it.

“God, I missed you, Blue.” He rubbed at your shoulders slowly, his other hand slipping around to hold the top of your chest, just beneath the dip at the bottom of your throat. “Missed touching you, feeling you, kissing you.”

Your eyes closed, and you thought surely he must feel the way your heart raced just under your skin when his fingers curled softly around your neck.

“Been dying to kiss you for years.” You felt then how the cloth had been discarded, and his bare hand spanned the smooth skin of your back, massaging at your shoulders and the top of your spine. “You ever miss me like that?” His voice was a soft rasp now, lulling you up and back into his hand, letting the linen go and looking up into his eyes.

“Yes–I do, Frankie–all the time.” You bit your lip, staring at his mouth as he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?” He moved forward an inch, leaning in as his hands worked their spell against your skin.

“Yes-” You barely whispered the word before he pressed his mouth to yours softly. It was tender and oh so familiar, the way his lips moved against yours, his tongue seeking entrance and gaining it just like he’d done so many times before. Your kiss was a dance, the steps of which neither of you had ever forgotten. It ached, the way his mouth claimed yours, and you couldn’t help but lean into him, to reach up and hold onto him as he groaned into the kiss.

“I have been dreaming about this since I left–” He spoke between kisses, pressing them to your face, before licking into your mouth once more, “Can I touch you?”

You nodded, chasing his mouth again. His hand slipped down, slick with soap, and then he held onto your breast, kneading one and then the other, his thumb strumming against the sensitive buds while your cunt leaked for him. His eyes moved, watching himself touch you, his lip caught between his teeth,and all of a sudden, it was too much, and you move, pulling away and standing, naked as the day you were born.

“Take me to bed, Frankie.” He stared up at you from his place on the chair, and from the look on his face, you’d think he was looking at an angel. It didn’t last, though; within seconds, he was up and pulling you out of the tub, practically dragging you towards your bedroom.

Your breath came out in a huff when you landed on your back, smiling breathlessly at the look of pure hunger on his face. He chewed his lip as he pulled off his layers, going through them quick enough that you genuinely worried he’d rip them. The water that had clung to your skin from the bath, now seeped into the sheets underneath you as you watched him undress.

“I’m so fucking hard for you, Blue.” He kicked his denim off, tossing everything every which way, “So hard it hurts.” His cock bobbed as he finally crawled his way over to you, and it was then that you saw it, a significant scar on his side, like a starburst. Your hand reached out, and you pressed your fingers to it, looking into his eyes for an explanation.

He pulled your hand up and kissed the tips of your fingers, “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” He continued his pilgrimage across your body, stopping only to kiss your sternum, your hip, and the soft skin of your belly. “I missed seeing you like this so much-“ he opened your legs, groaning at the way your cunt glistened for him. “-I missed how fucking wet you get, how good you taste-“ he barely finished speaking before he dove in, his tongue parting you further, gliding over your clit with desperation.

“I missed you-oh-“ his hands clutched at your thighs, pulling you closer to his mouth, pulling the strings of your arousal to pool for his tongue. “That feels so fucking good, Frankie—“ Your hands found the short crop of his hair, unsure of whether you wanted to pull him up or grind against him. He huffed a cocky laugh into your skin, doubling his efforts and tightening his grip on your thighs, his fingers indented into the skin. The steady glide of his tongue against your clit, up and down, up and down, has you falling over the edge of the cliff and your thighs clamping around his head.

It didn't stop him; his tongue kept moving, slower as you rode out your high. He bit at the plump of your inner thigh as you relaxed, smiling and shiny with your arousal.

“I missed that too.” He moved, pressing his lips to your belly again, moving up and licking a hot stripe between your breasts before slotting his hips between your legs. His skin was so warm, so welcome, that you couldn’t help but sigh and pull him close, your fingers curling into his hair.

“I wanted you to come back so badly-“ You covered every inch of his face in kisses, “Wanted you to stay with me, love me like this.” You licked into his mouth, tasting yourself in the kiss.

“I’m here, Honey, I’ll never leave you again-“ You can feel just how hard his cock is as it pressed into your belly, the two of you clinging to one another in the dying light of the day.

“Promise me, promise me you won’t leave me.” You reached down and wrapped your hand around the sizable heft of him, stroking slowly while positioning him at your entrance.

“Fuck-I promise baby, I promise you-“ His sentence ended in a filthy moan as you pulled him in with your heels, pressing into the meat of his ass, finally having him inside you again after everything.

You moaned at the way he filled you.

The last fifteen years melted away, the long stretch of loneliness feeling more and more like a dream with every deep stroke of his cock.

There were no more words, only whimpers from you and deep groans from him. There was the rhythmic rocking of your bed and the slick sounds of him moving between your legs. His hips snapped faster and faster as he chased his release, burying his face into the crook of your neck to feed all the delicious sounds he made directly into your ear.

“I’m so close, touch yourself—“ his voice sounded wrecked, moving his hips like a piston, his cock kissing that one spot only he ever found. You obey and reach down to swirl your fingers around your clit, rocketing yourself closer to another, more intense orgasm.

He moved his face down, holding onto your breast to suck on your nipple, and then the dam broke, and you clenched around him, moaning his name as you reached your peak.

“Fuck, that’s it, that’s so good, oh god—I’m gonna come-“ his hips sped up, the wet sounds of his thrusts louder after your second climax. You opened your legs wide, giving him space to move, but he stayed put.

“Frankie-“ You started to speak, trying to guide him to spill on your belly; still, he didn’t move. Instead, he pushed in deep, groaning loudly, and it was with a sinking feeling in your stomach that you felt him twitch inside.

You were frozen in place, momentarily shocked into silence.

“God—I’ve been dreaming of that for years.” He sounded drunk, pulling out of you with a hiss to take a good look at his handiwork.

“Francisco, did you just do what I think you did?” Your tone was devoid of any sweetness. “Did you just spill inside me?”

“Yes—“ he frowned, confusion colouring his face along with the flush of his exertion, “—I thought you’d forgiven me? We’re together again-“

“And me forgiving you means risking a baby?” You pulled away, wiggling out from under him to grab a linen shift from your drawer.

“Wait, Blue, come back.” He moved to sit at the edge of the bed, “I’m sorry I didn’t think. It just felt right.”

“Of course it felt right to you. You have no regard for how I might feel.” Your anger burned through you, where once there had been passion, it was now replaced with fear. A deep fear that the next time he decided to up and leave, it might not just be you waiting for him.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart, that’s not true-“

“I’d like you to leave.” Hot tears flowed down your face at the thought of being pregnant with his child, and alone, waiting to see how long it took him to return the second time.

“Baby, please—don’t make me leave, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that—“

“Leave! I want to be alone. Please just–just go home.” You wiped at your eyes before crossing your arms, doing your absolute best to avoid his gaze. He sighed loudly, moving slowly to gather his things, stopping only to put on his pants and his shirt before tucking tail and heading home.

He’d fucking blown it.

By some miracle, he’d managed to get into her good books, his persistence and determination to show her just how madly in love with her he was–how in love with her he’d always been–weeks worth of it, and he’d messed up in a few minutes. A few glorious, amazing minutes.

He couldn’t help but groan in annoyance with himself every time he remembered it, the euphoria of being with her again, being inside her, of having her wet and needy and so eager for him only to get lost in it and risk a baby they hadn’t yet discussed. Hadn’t even really discussed getting married, not since he’d come back.

He didn’t even know why he’d thought it’d be okay. It had been purely instinctual but also irresponsible and disrespectful. It shamed him that he couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop craving it. He ignored it, though, continued on with showing her his reliability and hoped she understood that she was all he wanted.

Sleep eluded you for days, refusing to find you until the blood came. It wasn’t much better when it finally did, though. There was the initial relief, of course, there would be no child born out of wedlock, and you would not be treated like a pariah, but where did that leave you? He apologized for it, constantly. He groveled, he begged for your time and for your love and forgiveness, and it was his. It was there–ready for him, but the fear hid it away.

No matter how consistent he’d been in his time back, no matter how much he’d assured and explained that he wasn’t going to leave, it still felt like there was a clock ticking somewhere you couldn’t see, counting down the seconds until you’d be alone again.

You tried to focus on other things, filling your days with organizing your home, with clearing out things that no longer served you, things that you had brought over from when your mother died and had actively ignored or hidden away until genuinely forgotten. There were old, moth-eaten rags that had once been her clothes, a few books, and an old hairbrush. Amongst her things, though, was a bundle of paper, a fat wad of it.

Confused, you pulled it apart and very quickly realized that they were letters and they were addressed to you. It was jarring to see your name in Frankie’s script and harrowing to realize that you’d had them the whole time without knowing.

With shaking hands, you opened them one by one, and by the third, the tears obscured your vision.

My Dearest Bluebell,

I know you must be angry with me, things aren’t moving as quickly as they should, but this changes nothing–I’m still coming home to you–

He talked about his time in the war, about how differently they did things where he was, and about how much money he was saving, but between all that was the same promise of return. It was everywhere, that–and his pleas for a response from you.

Please sweetheart, I need to hear from you, please let me know you’re okay, and that you don’t hate me–

You sobbed into them. The words were like wounds, the pain of being alone for so long is even sharper now than it had been before. He had been true to his word, writing letter after letter without a single word from you, and despite the pain of knowing that fact, you read every single one. The dates were consistent, every week, almost like clockwork, except for once–when there were a few months between two letters.

Bluebell, my love,

I am okay–but I was hurt. I barely remember what happened, but one minute I’m in the middle of it, fighting, and the next minute I was screaming and then blackness, until I woke up in a hospital. Nurse says I’m lucky to be alive and that I’m going to be okay–

It was too much, all of it, and despite the fact that it was late and he was most certainly asleep, you had to see him.

The moon followed you on your walk towards his house, lighting the path and keeping you company. There was a soft glow shining out from one of his windows, and it inspired hope, making it easier to knock on the door despite the hour.

There was movement on the other side of the door, his heavy footsteps padding across the old floorboards.

“Who’s there?” Suspicion threaded thickly through his words, and you couldn’t blame him; this was no hour for anyone to come calling.

“I need to talk to you. Can I come in?” Your voice was shaky, the tears had abated while you made your way over, but the worried look on his face when he opened the door threatened to let them flow once more.

“What’s the matter? What happened?” He was shirtless, holding his pistol at his side while he looked beyond you to inspect the horizon. “Come in, come in—“ He closed the door behind you, setting the pistol down with a frown. “What’s the matter, Blue? Why are you out at this hour?”

“I—“ you choked on the word, clutching at his letters, “Frankie, I found them, my mother—“ you sobbed out words, choking on them before he sighed.

“Oh Honey, please don’t cry.” He gathered you up, pulling you into the strong cage of his arms, and it was like the floodgates cracked open wide. One palm held the back of your head, and the other was wrapped around your waist. “You didn’t know, it’s okay.”

“I, I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry,” your voice cracked with the agony of all of the lost years, “you wrote so many letters, and I never answered any of them, and you got hurt—oh god, you could have died!” It was hard to tell if you were screaming or sobbing anymore.

“Hey! Hey! Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” he rubbed your back, a soothing gesture, “Hey, stop, stop, take a deep breath, I’m fine. I survived. There was nothing you could have done. I know you would have written to me if you’d gotten my letters, if you knew.” He pressed his lips to your temple. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner. I shouldn’t have left without you.”

“I should have known she’d do something like this. I–” You pulled away to look up into his eyes, “I am so angry at her. She let you carry on, just hid them without a care–even though she knew I was heartbroken.” You brushed his hair back before hugging him again.

“She never did like me. It was pretty cruel of her to do that to both of us.” He was being much more gracious about it than he should have, a testament to his love for you that he didn’t want to bash your mother despite the damage she’d done.

“Miserable old bitch.” You had no qualms about calling her what she was.

“Forget about her. It’s okay now. Thankfully, we’re together again.” He grabbed his pistol and led you further into the house.

Your fingers drew the shapeless pattern onto the warm skin of his chest for what must have been the hundredth time since the both of you tumbled into his bed an hour ago. It was still pitch black outside, the only light being a candle on his bedside. The sun would creep in soon enough, though, and when it did, it would find the two of you clinging to one another.

“I hate that you went through this alone.” Your fingers migrated down to the starburst on the side of his lower stomach, tracing the edges of it softly.

“I’m lucky, I made a full recovery.” His voice was soft, “I saw others get much worse.”

“That doesn’t minimize this, Francisco, you could have died out there, and I never would have known.” You squeezed your eyes together for a moment, ignoring the implications, “Can you ever forgive me? For not writing?”

“Only if you can find it in you to forgive me for being away so long and for what happened.” He pulled your hand up, pressing your knuckles to his lips.

“You’re forgiven for everything.” You frowned, “We hadn’t discussed our future, everything was still so up in the air, and I was terrified to get pregnant. Not because I don’t want to have your children, I was just terrified you'd leave me again and then I'd be here, alone and with a baby.” His face fell, guilt swirling around his features. “That was before. I believe you when you say you won’t and that you’re here for good.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, then to his lips.

“I understand why that would have scared you. I shouldn’t have done it without permission, though. It was careless of me.” He pulled you closer, relishing in the contact just like he had in the early days. There was a beat, a comfortable silence, and it stretched on for a while, the two of you content to lay there until the stiffness of your dress pulled you away. He helped you take it off until you were in your simple shift, and then you took your place beside him once more.

“Francisco?” You murmured, wondering if he’d fallen asleep.

“Yes?”

“I never said, but I’m sorry about your parents.” He’d been gone for years when they passed.

“Me too.” He didn’t say more, and you didn’t press. “You should get some rest. Will you stay with me?”

“Yes, I don’t want to go.” He got up for a moment, pulling the rest of his layers off before blowing out the candle.

“Good, I didn’t want you to leave.” He slipped into the bed, pulling his sheet over the both of you before pulling you in close. “Goodnight, Honey.”

“Goodnight, Frankie.”

The sun shone bright enough to shoo the last vestiges of sleep away. It found you warm and comfortable under the comforting weight of his arm over your belly and his leg tangled with yours. He looked younger, asleep and you could almost see him just as he was when he’d left, fresh-faced and eager to see and do as much as he could. That fire for life and all it entailed, burning brightly in every expression.

Your thumb traced the line of his jaw first, sweeping up his chin to glide across his pursed lower lip. He twitched but didn’t wake, only tightened his grip on you. Your thumb slid up, following the curve of his nose, up to smooth across his brow.

He stirred again, humming softly before pressing closer still, burying his face into the crook of your neck and tickling you with his moustache.

“Is it morning already?” His voice was sleepy but laced with pure joy.

“Yes, it is. How did you sleep?” Your tone matched his, his joy was contagious, hope and happiness swirling in the air much like the dustmotes that danced in each shaft of light. Your hands had migrated down, fingers flitting across his broad back, relishing every inch, every errant freckle.

“Better than I have in years. How about you?” His lips made their own pilgrimage, from just below your ear, down the column of your neck, and down to your shoulder; each press of his lips widening the smile on yours.

“I slept really well. I forgot how warm you get when you sleep.” He laughed at this, good-hearted.

“Good, means you don’t need to wear this–” His hands slid under your shift, grabbing greedily at your thighs, then your backside.

“Very clever. Don’t you need to get up and go to work, Sheriff? Or am I under arrest?” There was no real bite behind your words.

“Hmm, I don’t know, are you? Are you here to confess to a crime? Aside from stealing my heart, that is.” You let out a bark of laughter, rising slightly to let him take the shift off of you despite the game.

“Is that what I’ve done? Stolen your heart?”

“Oh yes, years ago. First day you smiled at me, come to think of it.” He nodded sagely for a moment before pressing his lips to yours softly, making you both melt and drip for him.

“Well then, I guess I deserve my punishment.” You reached down, shimmying out of your underthings to bare yourself to him. He bit his lip before dipping low to lick at the stiff peak of your breast, soft as his kiss, before taking your nipple into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks. You moaned, watching him enraptured.

“I’ll be just and fair.” He smiled, after letting go with a pop, moving to the next one to give it the same treatment. Your fingers curled into his short crop while your thighs pressed together to alleviate the aching at your core. He sucked harder, frantically, and then there was the edge of pain when he bit softly, making you gasp for a second before he once again soothed with his tongue.

“God, woman, you make me crazy.” His eyes were wild for a moment before he claimed your mouth again, his tongue plundering without mercy.

“I want you, Frankie–give it to me.” You reached down to grasp him in hand, but he moved away, denying you.

“I want to make you feel good. Let me taste you again.” He moved down, his lips mapping a course down to where you wanted him most.

“I want you, though, Frankie, want you to make me sore. You can use your mouth later.” You held your arms out to him, and although he stared at your mound with hunger, he obeyed.

You spread your legs for him, and he slots his hips, pulling your legs high onto his thighs for a moment before sheathing himself in you with one brutal, delicious stroke.

“God, Frankie, you’re splitting me open.” You moaned the words into his ear, and his head dropped into your neck, groaning at your words.

You reach down to hold onto his ass, grabbing onto it as he thrusts.

“You want me like this? Or you want me on my knees like you used to like?” You whispered, and he moaned, his hips stuttering for a moment before pulling out. It was the only answer you needed before you moved to get into position, presenting yourself to him.

His thighs pressed against the backs of yours, his hand landing heavy on one ass cheek before he entered you from behind. He felt deeper this way, hitting something otherworldly with each press.

“That’s my girl, you gonna take my big dick Honey?” You moaned into your forearm, arousal burning bright as a coal in the pit of your belly from his words, from the slick sounds of your joining, from the way your nipples grazed against his bedding.

He bent forward, pulling at your arms to hold them behind your back, and once he did, his efforts doubled. He was a piston, ramming into you hard enough to make your breasts bounce, hard enough to make you scream for him.

He moved you again, pulling you up to meet the solid wall of his chest, his chin hooking over your shoulder, one hand holding onto your breast, the other sliding down to swirl around your clit, shoving you headlong into a blinding climax.

“That’s it, baby, God, I can feel you squeezing my cock. Where do you want me to come? Can I come on your ass?” His words sounded frantic, and you nodded, barely whispering the words.

“Yes, Frankie–” He let you go, and you pressed your face into the mattress once more, spreading your legs a little wider before you felt him pull out, feeling the way his hand grabbed and spread you open while the other one pumped between your legs. You felt the hot spurt of him on the cheeks of your ass and the small of your back just as you heard the filthy groan he let out.

You both caught your breath for a moment, riding the wave of release before he moved and within a few minutes, he passed a cool, wet cloth across your skin, cleaning his mess off before discarding it and falling into bed beside you.

There was sweat on his brow, there was sweat on yours, too, but it didn’t matter, the euphoria was rich and sweet as fresh cider.

“I missed you so much, Frankie.” You turned to face him fully, the two of you naked and comfortable.

“I missed you too, Honey.” He pulled you close, wrapping you up in his arms, where you belonged.

–

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie x reader #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #francisco x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #triple frontier #triple frontier au #tp au #frankie x f!reader

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cobragardens · 7 months

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Holy Kittens, Y'all: My Favorite Good Omens Moment Has Gotten EVEN MORE ROMANTIC

Okay so I wrote this post about my favorite moment in Good Omens, and the stuff people are pointing out in the reblogs and comments is blowing my freaking mind, and I HAVE to show you how beautifully this all fits together, like I am flailing at my desk about this.

@vidavalor points out this gif from @soft-ange-aziraphale [Source]:

Here it is in sequence (gifs 1-4 from Fuck Yeah Good Omens):

I can't stop laughing over Aziraphale's smile, which shows, as @quoththemaiden says, that he's "utterly delighted with himself" and knows perfectly well that he's minxing Crowley; and this tiny extension of the moment convinces me even more that Crowley is desperately fighting a smile himself here.

Actually there's a lot in @quoththemaiden's comment that's insightful and well-put:

Totes agree with all of this.

And then. AND THEN!

I knew Crowley was trying to communicate something with this Shakespeare line, but I didn't know what until @paperbunny and @musingsofmaisie put it out there: Crowley is complimenting Aziraphale here, telling him he's enjoying being in Aziraphale's company, telling him his humor worked.

Remember how I keep banging on about how much equivocation Crowley does? This is more equivocation. In 1601, Richard Burbage was 34 years old, so age hasn't had the chance to wither his infinite variety yet. The stupidity of demons and the ignorance of angels regarding the human aging process prevent surveillance from noticing the poor applicability of this line to Burbage, but since the first half of the line fits Aziraphale (who does not age at all) more than Burbage (who is merely not yet old) it stands a chance of indicating to Aziraphale that Crowley is speaking about him. And the underlying true meaning of this equivocal statement would be A DIRECT RESPONSE TO MY FAVORITE MOMENT: Even though I have known you so long, you still surprise and delight me.

(Crowley's Antony & Cleopatra line also accomplishes something else important: it gets William Shakespeare to go away so they can speak privately, because Shakespeare doesn't want them to see him writing it down.)

A Dip Into Speculation

I don't think the evidence for it is binding enough to say for sure, because the evidence is really just that it fits together so nicely and lines up so well with A&C's coded romantic messages in 1793; the (pretty overt, actually, I mean damn) romance in 1827; the size and nature of the fight in 1867; the yeah, really overt romance in 1941; and in 1967; and yes okay now that I'm thinking about it the whole series, but I have this View about how the rest of the 1601 scene goes.

And in fact there is Word of Gods that could be interpreted as evidence against this little pet headcanon I have, though it doesn't necessarily have to be:

Here's my assertion: Aziraphale volunteers to go to Edinburgh for Crowley. Crowley cheats the coin toss to accept Aziraphale's offer and to keep up appearances as a demon. Rather than making a deal with (or asking a favor of) an angel, he's 'cheating' him (without the angel's knowledge, but with his consent), which "moves the dials" of evil a bit and would also make Aziraphale appear less at fault if this instance of the Arrangement is ever discovered by Heaven.

This can coexist with Gaiman's statement, above, that it doesn't even occur to Aziraphale that Crowley cheats the toss. THEE ongoing leitmotif of Aziraphale's view of Crowley is that he thinks of Crowley as much more genuinely evil and much less in need of ways to create cover as evil than Crowley actually is.

(Which is interesting, given that he also clearly thinks that Crowley is not as evil as he pretends to be, that he is and wants to do good, and that he deserves to be an angel again. [There is a whoooole nother essay slowly curdling in the churn in my head about how Aziraphale is obliged to practice doublethink and how that stunts his personal development because that's what happens when people aren't free.])

Here's what I mean when I say Aziraphale volunteers.

Does Aziraphale ask in this tone because he is actually feeling suspicious and curt, or because he has to sound suspicious and curt? He could be perfectly willing to do Crowley a favor and would still need to sound the way he does. It's difficult for me to believe this guy--

--or this guy--

--are really all that bothered by the idea that Crowley might want something from him.

Crowley's response sounds like a(n unconvincing) protest of innocence. Maybe it is. But he doesn't disagree with the premise on which Aziraphale based his question, which means Aziraphale now has confirmation: Crowley called the meeting because he wants to ask Aziraphale to do him a favor.

Close your eyes and listen to Sheen's delivery of this line. The way he says it is so soft it's got no judgy angelic sting to it at all. Is this really a prissy answer to Crowley's semi-rhetorical question? Or is Aziraphale using the cover of a prissy answer to ask Crowley, Is what you want related to the no-good you're up to, i.e., demon work?

Either way, Crowley answers:

Is Crowley making a demonic jibe at Aziraphale in return to "You're up to no good," or is he telling Aziraphale, Yes, what I want from you is related to my work, and to your work, esp. what you've got on right now?

Aziraphale volunteers some information about his schedule and what it is he's got on right now.

--he says, and the velvety way Crowley says "Ohhh," tells us--and could tell Aziraphale--that Crowley already knows this. In this coded communication I'm suggesting, Crowley's tone on "Oh" confirms to Aziraphale that the thing he wants help with does indeed have to do with Aziraphale's trip to Edinburgh.

So Aziraphale gives Crowley his travel details: Yeah, I have a couple of blessings and a minor miracle to perform. It's going to suck; I have to ride a horse.

Crowley's like, yeah, riding horses does suck. You have my sympathies. (Phrasing it as an insult to God: "Major design flaw if you ask me.") And then he says, I have to go to Edinburgh too this week. Tempt a clan leader into stealing some cattle.

And here's where I think Aziraphale volunteers to do Crowley's Edinburgh job for him:

If, as I propose, Aziraphale understands already at this point that Crowley is asking him to take Crowley's Edinburgh temptation, then this response tells Crowley he's willing to do so.

And then they have a little bit of kayfabe theater and a little bit of miscommunication between themselves. Crowley suggests Aziraphale take Crowley's Edinburgh job. Aziraphale protests "You cannot actually be suggesting what I infer you're implying," even though, as Crowley immediately points, out, they've now done this dozens of times.

Now, obviously Aziraphale is pretending innocence here with "You cannot actually be suggesting," etc. But he's not pretending innocence to Crowley. He can't be: Crowley knows about the dozens of other times just like Aziraphale does. So the protest of innocence is for surveillance; it's the spirit, not the letter, of the protest itself that's genuine: I am reluctant about this.

And Crowley misses it.

He reads the surface layer of the equivocation, the Heavenly pearl-clutching; and the surface layer is where he argues. "We've done it before," he points out. "Dozens of times now. The Arrangement--"

But Aziraphale, visibly frightened and looking around, cuts him off. "Don't say that." Getting caught in an Arrangement would be much, much worse than getting caught in a one-off deal.

Why is this suddenly a problem? says Crowley. You know we've been getting away with this; you know they don't check up.

It's not pearl-clutching at all; Aziraphale is worried for Crowley's safety.

When Crowley says--

--is his tone half wheedling and half impatient because that's how he feels, or because it must sound like that? Is it soft only out of courtesy to the other people in the Globe?

There's no difference to the outcome of this scene or the story as a whole whether this romantic interpretation of the Edinburgh bickering is correct, because we've already got a solid base of evidence that the characters have romantic feelings for each other and show each other affection and care in this scene. In my opinion this interpretation fits the tone of the rest of the Globe scene better than only the face-value interpretation. What Gaiman and Mackinnon say about Crowley cheating the coin toss and Aziraphale not being aware of it can still easily apply.

While these three statements together aren't enough evidence to convict, so to speak, if my initial argument about the interpretation of "Buck up!" and Crowley's reaction is correct--and the cool stuff other people have found and pointed out suggests it is AND explains Crowley's Antony & Cleopatra line--this reading of the Edinburgh bickering is, if not ironclad, at least valid.

And holy shit, people, that makes this scene romantic af from beginning to end. I could not have asked for a better little gift from my fellow humans. 🤯I have such a better understanding of the entire 1601 scene because people from anywhere with an Internet connection sat down and spent their time sharing their ideas, and it just makes the lit-nerd lobe of my brain so happy. I love you all, you romantics and nerds and perverts.

#good omens #good omens 1601 #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #it turns out my favorite good omens moment keeps going for the rest of the scene #good omens equivocation #crowley equivocation #aziraphale equivocation #good omens meta

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yeollie-plz · 4 months

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Calling Birds

Day 4 of Pedromas! | Masterlist

Pedro Pascal x F! Reader

Synopsis: Pedro has been away for a while and you miss him, he has a bit of a solution to your problem.

Genre: smut

Warnings: phone sex, m! and f! masturbation, dirty talk, pet names, a touch of degrading, vivid descriptions of sex and oral sex

Gif credits to owners!

Pedro was currently away filming and you missed every part of him. Cuddles, walks hand in hand, the talks you had while laying in bed, watching movies together, everything. But in this current moment in time you missed his dick more than anything else.

And you told him exactly that. Word for word. That you missed his dick. At first he responded in a joking sort of way but that one simple 'I miss you' text, had morphed into an intense back and forth of sexting.

He had warned you not to start this while he was on set. He had warned you not to start something you couldn't finish, but in your clouded lust you just didn't care.

So here you were sending dirty texts to your boyfriend and getting ready to send him a tasteful nude or two. You hit the 'send' button and less then five seconds after it says read, your phone is ringing.

Your boyfriend's name lights up on your screen. After letting it ring for just a second, you hit answer. Although you were desperate for his attention, you didn't want to completely show it.

"What are you playing at, amor?" He says before you can even utter out a hello.

Of course you feign innocence, "I don't know what you are talking about."

He sighs into the phone, "You know exactly what I am talking about. You're being a brat, teasing me while I'm at work." Your cheeks flush at the pet name, warmth rushing between your thighs.

"What? Have nothing to say anymore?" He responds when there is no sounds coming from the other line.

"I just need you." You whimper out.

"My poor baby, so desperate for my cock, needy whore." Your blood burns, a shiver runs down your spine. It was almost insane how turned on the man could make you with just a few words.

"Please", is all you can manage to say while you are so desperately trying not to touch yourself without permission.

He chuckles, "Why don't you touch yourself for me, my love?"

That's all you need before quickly slipping your hand under your panties, teasing your core. You let your fingers tease your opening before reaching your clit. Finally touching the spot where you needed, causes you to whimper out.

"You like it that much, baby? You've barely touched yourself, naughty girl."

"I just need to feel you. I need your fingers on me, in me. I need, I need-" You trail off as you continue circling your clit, the pleasure dulling your senses.

"Imagine its my fingers or my tongue. Imagine its whatever you want." A grunt sounds from his end of the call.

"Are you touching yourself?" You question comes out as almost a whimper.

"Yes, I'm imagining your lips wrapping around my cock. Your pretty head bobbing up and down as you take all of me in your mouth. So pretty when you give me head." Groans come from him as he speaks.

"Tell me what you want to do to me." You practically beg.

"I want to be the one touching your clit. I want my tongue on you, teasing your pretty little cunt until your writhing underneath me."

His words make you even wetter, as you let two of your fingers slip inside you. The stretch is nice but not as nice as his fingers would feel. So much bigger, with callouses that felt so delicious against your core.

"My fingers are so much smaller than yours." You complain.

"Put one more in, fill yourself as much as you can. Pretend its my fingers, fucking you, bringing you close to your peak. Are you close?"

"Almost, you?" He lets out a grunt in response, you hear the sound of fabric moving faster. You hear a squelch with another moan, knowing he was getting close without him having to tell you.

He still answers, "Yes, now think about me thrusting my fingers in and out of you, my tongue on your clit. You like when my mouth is on you?"

You only moan in response, getting close to your release. With the stretch of your fingers, moving in and out of you at a perfect speed. The phone on speaker, laying on your chest, as you use your other hand to tease your clit. Both actions causing your head to spin in ecstasy.

As your peak begins to mount, your moans get louder and your fingers move faster. More sounds also come from Pedro's end of the phone.

"Cum for me baby." He says before he's moaning, knowing that he is cumming sends you also over the edge.

Your orgasm washes over you. Your walls clench around your fingers as you continue to work your clit through your high.

As you start to come down, your head returns to earth. Hearing his breathing beginning to settle on the other side of the phone. You laugh.

"What?" He questions, still a bit breathless.

"Nothing, just didn't imagine this happening today."

"All of that imagination and you didn't even picture you fingering yourself?"

Another laugh, "Not that, just I didn't think a phone call could get so hot."

Now he laughs, "What don't think I can't make a simple phone call hot?"

"No, babe, I know you can make everything hot."

<- Previous Day | Next Day ->

Taglist:

@britlord @kittenlittle24 @godlypresley

#fanfiction #fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal imagine #12 days of pedromas #pedromas #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal story

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extraordinari1y-ordinary-writer · 3 months

Text

Wedding Night

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Your wedding night with Wanda.

Content Warning: NSFW; lesbian relationship; unprotected sex; Wanda using magic for sexy times; vaginal fingering; oral; multiple orgasms; enchanted cum-filled strap on; whatever else I failed to mention

Word Count: 1,227

Note: Was this requested? No! It was voted. I hope you like it! I'll come back here and there to make some edits where it's necessary. Any gifs or pictures I use are not mine.

Gentle reminder that I am always open for feedback! 💕

NSFW (18+)

The wedding was beautiful. Everyone enjoyed themselves, none more than you and your wife, Wanda. The two of you had dated for only two years before you popped the question. You proposed on the night of your anniversary—cliché? Maybe—in your bedroom post-sex. The two of you cried when she accepted, which only led to the two of you fucking again and again. A night filled with soft moans and heavy orgasms.

And now, in the privacy of the wedding suite, you and Wanda undressed each other. Wanda's lips were latched on the curve of your neck, suckling on the soft skin as she pushed your dress off. You moan when Wanda nipped at the junction between your shoulder and neck. She gripped your hips, pushing your back flush against her chest—her exposed breasts. Her hands danced up to your mounds, fingers alternating between twisting your hardened nipples and groping the soft flesh of your chest. Her lips continue to assault your neck; your back arches, and you moan again.

One hand slid down. Wanda's fingers brushed against your stomach, the digits dancing above your panties before slipping between your legs. Wanda stroked your covered cunt, wetness gathering as she continued to tease you.

"Baby," you whimper, "please."

The redhead removed her lips from your neck and hummed. "Please what?" she whispered, breath fanning across your ear. Her fingers continued teasing you, and you whined. "Use your words," she ordered.

"Need you," you gasped. "Please—in me."

You felt Wanda smirk. Her hand slipped into your panties, fingers rubbing against your slit; your juices coating her deliciously. "So wet," Wanda moaned. One finger entered your heat; you moaned, your eyes closing. Wanda's finger thrusted and curled within you a few times before she added another and then a third. You were a mess, submitting completely to your wife as her fingers fucked you.

You moan, hips grinding against her hand. "Oh fuck—right there! Right—fuck—right there—"

Wanda's thumb worked your clit, rubbing tight circles against the bundle of nerves. You let out a high-pitched moan. When you began fluttering around her, Wanda's ministrations quickened.

"Yes, yes, yes—" you cried; you were practically bouncing on her hand. "'M cumming—Wanda, please! So close—"

"Cum for me," Wanda moaned. "My baby—I wanna feel you gush for me."

Your orgasm hit you hard. Your juices squirted out of you, wetting your wife's hand and the floor beneath you. You practically screamed, chanting Wanda's name. Her fingers continued thrusting in and out of you, her thumb still working your clit for all it's worth. After a moment, you gripped her wrist and stopped her movements.

"Sensitive," you mumbled. Wanda removed her hand, licking clean your arousal from her fingers.

"We're not done yet."

The redhead led you to the bed; your legs were trembling from your release. You lay on your back, legs dangling off the side, a dazed look in your eyes from your post-orgasmic haze. You saw Wanda's eyes glow red, her powers moving your legs entirely to the bed. She maneuvered onto the bed, so her legs sat on either side of your head. Your mouth watered when you saw Wanda's exposed cunt; arousal coated her inner thighs. Your hands gripped her thighs and pulled her down. You latched onto her weeping heat, tongue thrusting between her folds and moaning at Wanda's taste. Her scent and taste were overwhelming.

Wanda moaned, her hands groping her breasts as her head fell back. Every lick and thrust from your tongue sent waves of pleasure up the witch's spine. When you started suckling her clit, Wanda knew she was a goner. Her moans became higher, more frequent as her hips began to grind on your face. You moaned against her core, sending pleasurable vibrations up Wanda's spine.

"Fuck," Wanda cried. "Oh baby—oh God!—keep going; I'm gonna cum!"

Wanda's eyes started glowing, angling one of her hands so her powers could pleasure you. Red energy covered your core, enough force being used to rub your sensitive clit and thrust into you. You cried and moaned against Wanda. She let out a heavy moan. Heat pooled into Wanda's stomach; her energy quickened its pace until you finally came again. Wanda's release racked her body; you tried to make it last as long as possible. After a moment, Wanda pulled herself away from you. She collapsed beside you on the bed.

The two of you breathed heavily; dull aftershocks rippled through your bodies. You glanced over at Wanda; her cheeks and the top of her chest were flushed. A thin layer of sweat coated her skin, and her eyes glazed over from her release. Letting out a more even breath, you carefully sat up and kissed her. Her lips moved effortlessly against yours, a soft moan escaping her lips.

When you pulled back, you traced her bottom lip with your thumb before standing up on shaky legs.

"Where're you going?" Wanda's accent was coming out, thick from exhaustion and curiosity. You smirked at your wife before rummaging through your luggage. When you found it, you hid it behind your back before approaching Wanda. You pecked her lips before showing the strap-on. Her brows shot up, her bottom lip getting caught between her teeth.

"It's your…special one," you said. You put on the thick, red-colored member. "The one you always used on me."

Wanda's legs spread, and you climbed onto the bed. The toy was special, enchanted by the witch, so whoever used it would feel everything. Gripping the member, you pressed the tip against your wife's arousal. You moaned as you watched it disappear in her. Wanda threw her head back, whining at the sensation. It burned and stretched her in the best possible way. Your hands gripped your wife's waist, panting as you bottomed out in a single thrust.

You felt every clench of Wanda's walls. You felt how warm and wet she was. "Oh baby," you gasped. You began to rock into her, finding a steady rhythm. "Oh God, you feel so—fuck!—so good."

"Yes," Wanda moaned. "Right there." The phrase turned into a chant. You were left a moaning mess, drowning in the feeling of your wife. The sound of skin-on-skin mixing with the moans was euphoric. You move one of your hands to where you're joined. Two of your fingers began rubbing tight circles on your wife's bundle of nerves. Wanda moaned, her back arching as the pleasure continued to build in her. "Please," she gasped. "Put a baby in me."

The plea had your hips stuttering. "You want that?" you grunted. Wanda moaned again. Your orgasm was close to bursting. You could feel her fluttering around you. "Wanna be a mommy?" you taunted. She let out a high-pitched moan. You were so close. "Gonna put a baby in you! Fuck, gonna make you a mommy!"

Wanda cried as her release washed over her. She squirted around the toy, body arching from the intensity. Your body jerked as your release overcame you; ropes of hot cum filled your wife. Your hips rutted against hers, small moans escaping your lips. When your hips stilled, you took a moment to regain your bearings before pulling out of Wanda. You both whimpered at the sensation. Pressing a kiss to your wife's forehead, you tumbled onto your back, too exhausted to take off the toy.

(Stay tuned for Bucky's version)

Masterlist

Taglist: @staria9100 @radcollectivesoul @cuddlefishextrodinaire @ramielll @lelialynn @identity2212 @whiminiferous @gracescor3 @winterslove1917 @hailycheyenne @dp-marvel94 @queerponcho @mystrawberrynigt

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen #marvel x reader #marvel #avengers x reader #avengers #marvel cinematic universe x reader #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe fanfiction #request #fanfiction #smut

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thewalkingdilf2 · 4 months

Note

OMG I can’t believe I’m requesting this but I have to after seeing you wrote about it but can you write a Daryl x reader smut where she’s just super whiny and sensitive and he’s all mocking and kinda mean but some fluffy aftercare after? If you’re uncomfortable with this tho I totally understand!!!🫶

OMG i literally loveee the idea of daryl mocking reader for being super sensitive and falling apart at the slightest touch so don’t worry, i’m def not uncomfortable with it, LOL

a/n: apologies for cutting it a bit short and not adding aftercare, i didn’t want it to get tooooo long, but i did try to add some soft daryl in there in so it’s not just him being mean the entire time >.<

you’re gonna have to bear w me as i am very new getting back into this, i haven’t written anything in YEARS so i’m def rusty asf. apologies if my writing is redundant and overall just bad, i need to get back into the groove of things for sure.

gif creds: r66dus

Pairing: Daryl x Reader

warnings: nsfw 18+, poorly written smut, degrading, edging, a little bit of slapping, etc, etc, this is literally just porn without any plot whatsoever

not proofread!! sorry if there are any mistakes

word count: 2k

"Daryl, pleaseeee, please let me cum," you whined desperately. He was practically torturing you, teasing your swollen, puffy clit with his rough fingers while he plowed into you from behind with his thick cock, grabbing the small of your waist roughly with his other hand, helping to pull you back into his hips. Strands of hair stuck messily to his strained, bliss-filled face from the sweat dripping down his hairline as he stared down at you, watching the needy mess you were turning into beneath him.

"What'd I tell ya', slut? Gonna have ta' wait til I say..." Daryl grunted, "I promise if ya' cum without my permission, yer gonna regret it, pretty girl."

This had been going on for what felt like an eternity. Tears welled up in your doe eyes as he kept his quick pace, shoving his cock deep inside of you relentlessly. You were so close. You whimpered, feeling the coil in your stomach tighten as if it was going to snap and burst at any moment, filling your body with ecstasy. You were ready to let go and finally give in to the pleasure he had been denying you, sloppily rocking yourself back against him to meet with his thrusts, chasing your high, until suddenly all movement slowed and was put to a gradual halt. He held your hips in place, preventing you from continuing to throw yourself against him. "D-Daryl, w-what the fuck, why?" you cried out at the loss of pleasure. You despised him in this moment, but your soaked, aching cunt was telling him the opposite.

"Can't have ya' cumming yet, girl. How're ya' s'posed to be my lil fucktoy if ya' can't even handle my cock?" Daryl pulled out with ease and flipped you around to face him. He smirked lightly at you, noticing the hot, wet tears streaming from your tired eyes, down your flushed, fucked-out face, making their home on your pouting lips. "Tears already?" Daryl cooed, "Ya' poor fuckin' thing..." He paused to wipe a fresh tear from your eye with his rough, calloused thumb. "So fragile like a lil doll... Fucking pathetic baby," he spat out, "practically useless... Can't even fuck ya' proper without ya' whining like a little bitch. Tryna' cum so soon too," he tsked, "I just started."

His degrading words stung like venom, but they made your pussy ache that much more. He knew you loved it, and you wanted to satisfy him. You glanced up and met with his eyes, "I'll do better, promise. Wanna be your good girl."

Daryl grabbed you by the jaw firmly and forced your eyes toward his cold gaze, "That right, pretty thing? Wanna be good f' me?" he mocked. You blanked. His voice and condescending tone alone made your head spin a mile a minute; you felt more drunk off of his voice and touch than you had ever been from any amount of alcohol, and you had never needed him more in your life than you did at that moment. Before you could muster up a response, he flipped you back over on your hands and knees, pushing your legs apart, presenting your hot, dripping core to him. "So fuckin' wet and I've barely even started," he grumbled as he slid two fingers up and down your soaked slit, reveling in the image and collecting your slick on his digits, "Taste so fuckin' good." You couldn't see him while you were bent over facing the opposite direction, but with the obscene sounds of a slurp and a faint pop coming from behind you, you could only assume he was sucking your juices off of his fingers.

"How 'bout this," he started, speaking with an almost menacing tone while running his hands up the soft skin of your back, making you tremble beneath him, "you wanna be a good girl for me? Let me eat this delicious pussy of yours, and if ya' can be nice n' quiet fer me, maybe I'll consider letting ya' cum 'round my cock. Tha' sound good, baby?"

"God, yes," you moaned. Your clit was throbbing and your stomach was tied in knots; you needed him back inside of you more than anything, and you would do absolutely anything it took to get it.

Daryl smirked, "so fuckin' eager." With that, he leaned over and took his first long, slow lick up your wet slit from behind, the taste of your cunt being so sweet he had to let out a low moan in appreciation; you tasted so perfect he could eat you all day long with no complaints.

You trembled, struggling to hold yourself up after being teased and edged for so long. Your body eventually gave out and betrayed you, forcing you to slouch down, resting all of your weight on the bed. Finally having the chance to potentially cum made your head spin as he lapped up your juices with his skilled tongue, occasionally opting for little kitten licks or little suckles on your needy clit. Your head felt empty; nothing else occupied your thoughts other than Daryl, which is exactly what he aimed for when he fucked you like this. He wanted nothing more than to turn you into his dumb little toy, his ego swelling up like a balloon when he could affect you so much with his touch.

A firm slap to your ass jolted you back to the real world. "I'm talking to ya', slut. Told ya' to get back up and hold yerself there. Are ya' really that weak and sensitive? Can't even lift yer own ass off the ground?" His fingers reached for your clit, ensuring you still had stimulation while he scolded you. You felt dizzy, overwhelmed with the pleasure of his fingers rubbing your sensitive nub.

"S-S-Sor-" you stuttered, a desperate attempt to apologize so he wouldn't change his mind about letting you cum, your mind still spinning with overstimulation from all the pleasure you were feeling.

"S-S-S," Daryl mocked, "use your words and spit it out, doll, or I'll stop and ya' won't get shit. My tongue got ya' that preoccupied, can't even hear me and respond anymore? Hm? Such a stupid fuckin' whore."

"M' sorry!" you cried out. Maybe you wouldn't get to cum after all.

Daryl could read the look of disappointment on your face, knowing exactly what you were thinking. His cock twitched at how pathetic you looked. Knowing you were such a mess beneath him and so desperate to cum for him made him feel like he could conquer anything. He loved the way you writhed under his touch and silently begged for more. He wasn't actually going to keep you from cumming, not today anyway, especially after how long he's made your poor pussy wait for him.

"C'mere, doll, m' not done with ya." In one swift motion, Daryl hooked his arms around your soft thighs, grabbing you and pulling your pussy back toward his mouth, while simultaneously helping you hold the weight of your body up with his strong arms. He rubbed your thigh gently with one hand as he dove back into your heat hungrily, a small gesture to assure that you were still okay. Even when you two played like this, he always made an effort to read your body language and soothe you with gentle touches as a reminder that his rough, mean demeanor was all still pretend and fantasy.

You convulsed as he lapped at your cunt, picking up pace and dipping his tongue in and out of you. You desperately tried to hold in your lewd noises as he had asked, but it proved to be a near-impossible task as his lips latched onto your sensitive bud and sucked gently, bringing it into his mouth, swirling his tongue teasingly against the tiny bead. "F-fuck, Daryl!"

Daryl's movement slowed as he came back up for air, leaving an open-mouthed kiss against your slit, savoring your taste on his tongue as he pulled back, "Ah-ah, what did I say about staying quiet, doll?"

You held your breath, determined to obey his request. He typically loved hearing your desperate cries and needy whines, seeing how loud he could make you get, but he loved teasing you too much. Anything that would be a challenge for you, he got a sick kick out of watching you struggle with, so he was content with forcing you to stay quiet for him this once.

Quickly flipping you over onto your back, he delved back between your legs. Daryl trailed soft kisses up and down your inner thighs, nipping at the skin and sucking, leaving love bites that claimed you as his, and his only. He teased you at a dreadfully slow pace with his lips and tongue, trailing around your thighs and pussy, kissing around your folds, barely missing the spot that craved his touch so desperately. His facial hair tickled your thighs perfectly, leaving you shivering and silently begging your body to not betray you once more as he finally flattened his tongue to draw one long stripe up your core, it glistening in the light as his saliva mixed with your juices.

"Ya' taste so good," Daryl moaned out, the vibrations going straight through you, causing your breath to stutter and your legs to tremble under his touch as he held them open for you. "Can't believe yer this fuckin' wet fer me, doll. Such a fuckin' whore."

You covered your mouth with your hand as he flicked his tongue against your sensitive clit rapidly, devouring you like you were the last meal he'd ever eat. He slipped a finger inside of you with ease, pumping it in and out, curling it inside you. The astounding sensation made you break, forcefully arching your back off of the mattress and releasing a loud, muffled moan from your covered mouth. Daryl smiled against your aching core, glancing up at you with his piercing blue eyes, as he knew you were struggling to keep yourself from succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure.

"D-Daryl, I-I can't... I'm gonna cum," you breathed out, dropping your hand from your mouth, reaching for a pillow, a blanket, anything close to you to grab and brace yourself with.

"Didn't tell ya' you could," Daryl growled, still pumping his digit inside of you, "yer not doing anything until I say so, pretty girl."

"Daryl, please," you begged him, but to no avail, Daryl stood his ground. The squelching sounds of your pussy continued to fill the room as you clenched around his thick finger. Adding another into the mix, he curled them up into a spot that made you see stars. As the length of his fingers continued to disappear inside of you, the knot inside of your stomach built up faster than you could prepare for, and without hesitation, it snapped. With a gasp and a loud, shaky moan, Daryl knew that you had came; he hungrily watched your eyes roll back into your head while your wetness coated his digits. He continued pumping them in and out quickly as you rode out your orgasm.

"The fuck did I say about waiting, stupid bitch?" Daryl barked.

"M' sorry!" You barely sputtered out, still trying to come down from your high, "Told you I couldn't hold it, I won't do it again, promise!"

A sharp sting landed against your flushed cheek, and your eyes widened in shock; Daryl had just slapped you. Not enough to hurt in the moment, but definitely enough to shock you and cause heat to rush back to your core. You grabbed your cheek, surprised by the action, feeling the warmth radiating from where his hand had just landed.

"Ya' think it matters what the fuck ya' tell me? I gave you an order," he spat, "If ya wanna cum that bad, surely ya' can do it for me again, ain't that right, pretty girl? I think I can get a couple more outta ya'."

You shuddered at the thought of cumming again; there was absolutely no way you would be able to. "Daryl, I-I can't," you whined.

Daryl chuckled, "Course ya' can, baby... Don't worry, I'll help ya' out."

You were definitely in for it now.

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neptunes-sol-angel · 6 months

Text

Channeling from my inner cobra 🐍 to tell you guys something from your past that needs to shed. Pick the gif(s) that you feel drawn to the most, and then scroll for their corresponding message. Enjoy and STREAM COBRA!! 🐍

Paid Readings | Patreon | Tip Jar

Pile One 🐍

There's a situation with a failed outcome that you're still clinging on to, that makes you either not want to try anything new or see how just because something that made you flop, doesn't mean that you have to stay down. This failure could have brought you some embarrassment or put you in a mood to where you don't want to feel seen, but you need to shed this part of the past because making mistakes or falling short in something doesn't mean that it can take away your confidence or right to try again. We fail to see now what we can do different, whether it is to start anew, or find a way to elevate from where we are. All you have to do is put one foot out there make your first step, but it doesn't mean that you have to obtain immediate perfection, you can do it slow and take your time, the goal is however tempo that you're moving in, it's beneficial for you to go forward than backwards, even if you have to take some breaks. Practice saying affirmations like "I am safe to trust in myself and the process".

Pile Two 🐍

Something from your past that is affecting your present, is how you soothe yourself from emotional pain with superficial pleasures or things that make you fake your happiness. Surrounding yourself with depthless connections that aren't serving you anymore is only going to make your sadness worse when have those moments where you realize that certain things are just not providing you with what you need. To know what makes you feel authentic joy, you need to utilize duality by not holding back in feeling out your sadness. I also have this feeling that you guys could be in a phase where you're like a caterpillar in its cocoon. You're transforming, and this person that you see in the mirror is someone you can't recognize, and I know it scares you. Not only because of what you're growing into, but because deep down you know that eventually you have to let go of what and who you're outgrowing. See the value in acknowledging that being at your lowest point is how you'll get back to the top.

Pile Three 🐍

Trying to have your mind and body adjust to a peaceful environment can be frustrating when it doesn't know yet that you're somewhere safe. You don't have to put so much pressure on to yourself because it's what you were used to in the past, that person that always put you down as if you couldn't do anything right, is not there anymore. Those people that spiked your anxiety and had you in survival mode. They can't harm you anymore. But it's even those their presence is absent, there's this phantom that possesses your mind and makes you so harsh with yourself that it's hard to believe that they've really truly left. You need to give yourself your flowers for the challenges you've prevailed over and the leaps of faith you took despite the people that told you that you couldn't. Don't stop there, continue to take those chances in the things that you want to do for yourself and others. Recognize both your strength and your capacity to also be soft with yourself. Relax more, release the tension that makes you feel like you can't do anything other than be productive.

#divination #intuitive #psychic #pick a card #tarot #spirituality #pac #tarotblr #cobra #megan thee stallion #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick a card reading #tarot reader #the tarot community #tarot community #intuitive readings #intuition #spotify

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ronearoundblindly · 20 days

Note

E for Steve? More specifically hideout Steve???? 🥺🥺

For this ask game and for this touch-starved!Steve series.

MINORS DNI. Hooooooo, Nessie, this got me all bothered.

E - Extra Info

Mini-rant time:

I've come across a couple of comments describing Nomad in this story as "subby," which I have to say, I consider wildly untrue.

He's hyper-sensitive, that's for sure, and he's inexperienced, yes. Being starved for touch doesn't automatically make you submissive, though. In my opinion, that only makes Steve more responsive during intimacy and sex.

We know--or we should know--that real doms are getting pleasure and satisfaction from the pleasure of their partner while exercising the most control over the 'scene' between the two (or more) partners.

That and Hideout!Steve are the same picture to me. At least, I'm not saying he's a dom-Dom, like a practicing and negotiated dominant, but he ain't being submissive, folks, as far as I'm concerned. He's learning, he's exploring, and he's coming into his own. That's all.

Mini-rant over! (No one is wrong in their interpretation of him, by the way. I just wanted to explain the headspace I am writing him from.)

He likes skin-to-skin contact. He doesn't care if things get messy. He has no issue with bodily fluids or functions. If you tell him to do something or want to try something, he's game.

He loves to pamper you with soothing back and foot rubs, but he doesn't fetishize any part of that except your pleased (or aroused) facial expressions (and soft noises of contentment).

What else...

The breath play. Oh boy! Probably not as scandalous as you think it might be, but he smothers his sounds in the pillows and tries to be super quiet long enough that Steve is somewhat reliant on limited oxygen before he comes. Of course, he never articulates that, so you found out very slowly and almost by accident.

Since he's so sensitive already, there isn't enough time to distinguish that anything specific might work him up to climax more/faster, but as he gains endurance, he starts to bury his face in your skin (chest, shoulder, or cunt) and remain cut off from air until his end.

Once, when he's holding you up, no support of a wall or anything behind you, and really going at it, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms behind his neck, you're both so sweaty that you slip.

What happens is your one hand catches the back of his neck and the other just latches onto his throat because he is frantically thrusting up into you with his grip spreading your ass. Normally, he'd have one hand to stabilize your back, but instead, he groans something fierce, and all you can do is hold on.

That, my friends, is when you hear Steve Rogers growl 'fuck' loudly for the first time. You'd've apologized if he didn't kiss you so sloppily and sooooo greedily afterward. Let's just say that was a good hint that he might enjoy just a little choking...

🫠🫡

Hmm, and I suppose I should mention that the gif above was chosen because eventually when Steve can be more open with you, we find out he does have a bit of a thing for wearing the uniform during sex. Not all the time, but that holds a special meaning because for just a moment, his work-life and his private-life aren't partitioned away from each other.

Kinda. He's still a fugitive.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#ro answers #dirty asks #ask game #hideout series #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers x you #nomad steve

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chernozemm · 3 days

Note

heLLO!!! YOUR ART-!!!!!!!

how do you draw fat so beautifully???? i want to get better! your work makes me feral!!!!

hiii omg yes to getting better at art!!

uhMMMM God i always find any variation of this question super difficult to answer because there is no quick trick....its practice and studying references....

idk i guess ive simply been chubby ever since puberty hit so i am intimately aware of how a certain amount of fat sits on a body already? and honestly at some point i was like....okay i already stare at the mirror scrunching my nose at how my arm looks bigger and flabbier when i have it pressed against my body, might as fucking well learn something about it and use it in art.

its just a lot of observation and just really LOOKING at how fat folds work and not just assuming you know how they work. the other day i was mid-cuddle with my gf and i had an aha! moment about how breasts and those little chub bits at the apex of your armpit work together. my brain just does that in the bg i guess

but, for a concrete example. i wanted to draw aziraphale kind of tucking her chin to her chest. i know, from having looked at gifs and pictures, that this is what michael sheen's chin/neck does in that position:

do you see the V of his chin elongating up into the cheeks? and how there isnt really a visible jawline but fold of fat?

voila

its not a perfect replica, but my aziraphale isnt a perfect replica of michael sheen either, even if it is heavily based on him.

BOTTOM LINE (and a bit of a tangent): drawing fat is not easy a) bc a lot of reference material doesnt even cover it and b) because it is a personally loaded topic for some. but if there is ONE takeaway ive learned it's that: draw what you see. even if you think it looks cringe, even if you dont associate it with being attractive, even if you are insecure about it on your body. it gets easier.

look at that triple chin!!! by all accounts this is not a face we usually associate with erotica but ill be damned if this is not the face of someone really really into what they are doing right now. and thats attractive. so, draw the weird fat flaps and thrive <3

#myart #art tutorial #not really but ye

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imyourbratzdoll · 2 years

Text

𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔

week 5 - day 17 - kinktober - group sex, begging, voyeurism, degradation, praising, daddy kink, sir kink, semi-public sex, fingerfucking, facefucking, overstimulation, spanking, sharing kink, cum eating, breeding kink, dirty talk, oral sex, nipple play, spit kink, hair pulling, squirting, deep throating, cock and ball worship, cuckolding, aftercare, being recorded and teasing - daddies ari levinson, nomad steve rogers, curtis everett. their best friends bucky barnes and andy barber and reader's teacher jake jensen x little student reader.

warning - group sex, begging, voyeurism, degradation, praising, daddy kink, sir kink, semi-public sex, fingerfucking, facefucking, overstimulation, spanking, sharing kink, cum eating, breeding kink, dirty talk, oral sex, nipple play, spit kink, hair pulling, squirting, deep throating, cock and ball worship, cuckolding, aftercare, being recorded and teasing.

kinktober masterlist

18+ only please, the gifs and headers aren’t mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

“Class dismissed! Please make sure to have your work handed in by next Tuesday. It’s not that hard, people.” Jake groans, taking his glasses off as he runs his hand down his face dreading what he has to do next. He puts his glasses back on before standing and fixing his shirt. Jake walks over to where his very tiny and well-liked student stands, packing her school supplies in her small princess bag. “Miss L/n, may I have a word with you before you go?”

Y/n looks up, her face lightening as her favourite Professor stands before her. She blushes under his gaze, her thighs squeezing together, not so subtly, wishing that he’d touch her as her daddies do but will never mention that to them, not wanting to hurt their feelings or make them think that she doesn’t love them. Y/n jumps onto her desk, giving Professor Jensen a big grin “of course, Mr Jensen.”

Jake’s eyes dance down her body, taking in the form-fitting, tiny dark blue sundress. His pants tighten at the sight of her breasts nearly spilling out, and Jake clears his throat as his gaze darts back up to Y/n’s dumbed-out face. “I’ve noticed that you haven’t completed any assignments I’ve given you. My question is, Miss L/n. Why haven’t you been handing in your work?”

Y/n pouts, her brows furrowing as her breath hitches, “a–am I in trouble, Professor?” Her doe-like eyes widen, staring up at the tall man, lip beginning to wobble at the thought of disappointing the man.

Jake shakes his head, “no, no. I just need to know if there is a reason for the lack of work.”

Y/n’s mouth forms into an ‘o’ before a dreamy smile appears, “oh! I got a reason for it, Mister!” Jake nods and gestures for you to continue, “I was getting railed by my daddies!” Jake’s eyes widen at the confession, “I mean… They try to help me with my work 'cause I’m a dumb baby, but it usually ends with me underneath them.” A giggle escapes Y/n’s lips, eyes glazing over as she thinks about her daddies.

Many emotions go through Jake at that moment, shock, anger, jealousy and horniness. He shifts a bit as he feels his cock harden, rubbing against the denim of his jeans. Without meaning to, Jake lets his jealousy get the better of him. “That’s no excuse, Miss L/n, and it’s quite disappointing to know you’d rather be a whore than do your work.” Jake storms over to his desk, grabbing a stack of paper before walking back. Not noticing how Y/n’s bottom lip quivers or the tears filling her eyes, Jake practically slams the papers into her chest before continuing. “If you don’t have these completed by next week, then I will be going to head office and get you removed from either my class or this school.”

Y/n watches her Professor storm back to his desk through blurry eyes, quickly tightening her grip on the papers and her bag. She runs out of the room, holding back her sobs the best she can as she runs home. The moment the building comes into sight, the tears fall, and she runs faster, needing to be wrapped up in her daddies arms. Y/n slams through the door, bag and papers tossed to the side as she runs through to the kitchen, nearly tackling Steve when she runs into him and wraps her arms around his waist.

Steve gasped in shock, not expecting to be nearly taken out. “Hey baby girl, how was your day?” The smile on his face drops when the sound of Y/n’s sobs fills the room. Dropping the wooden spoon in his hand. Steve quickly turns and wraps his thick arms around his girl. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? What happened?” Y/n’s tears begin to soak the homemade apron she made him, “Ari! Curtis! I need you in here!” Steve continues to rub his hand up and down Y/n’s back, trying desperately to calm her down.

Two bulky men run into the room, faces hard, until their eyes land on their blubbering baby. All three men hold you, wrapping you tightly between them, letting you cry whatever upsets you out. Ari pulls out a chair, sits down and pulls you along with him, placing your small form on his lap. “Do you want to tell us what has you so upset, little baby?” Steve and Curtis come close, placing their hands on your body, comforting you in a way that slowly calms you down, causing you to nod at Ari’s question.

With three pairs of hands stroking your hair and any other part of you, Y/n takes a shaky breath before she begins. “M–Mr Jensen was mean,” a pout starts to form on her plump lips as she gulps, “he came up to me after class asking to talk, and I was so excited! I thought I was such a good girl, but t–then he asked why I haven’t completed any of the work that he gives out, and I told him the truth.” Her wide eyes stare at all three men who listen intensively, “cause daddies always told me to tell the truth, or I get punished but Mr Jensen, he got mad and” Y/n’s cheeks go a deep red when she thinks back to what he called her.

Curtis’s hand moves down to her chin before lifting her head, making her look back up. “What happened then, bunny? Hmm?” His dark blue eyes stare deep into hers, a brow raised as he waits for her to speak.

“H–he called me a whore and said that if I don’t finish the work by next week… That he’ll go to the head office and get me kicked out of either his class or the school.” Her doe-like eyes stare deep into Curtis’s, not daring to look away, or there will be consequences. The hands petting her stop short when the words slip from her lips. Y/n shuffles in Ari’s lap as she starts to feel the tensions rise. Steve notices that she begins to worry, hurriedly hides his emotions and picks her up.

“You want to help me make dinner, baby girl?” Y/n nods, covering his face with kisses, appreciating his distraction. Steve places the small woman down onto the ground, letting her feet touch the floor before she wanders off to where her apron hangs. Steve turns to the other two older men, their blue eyes hard as stone and jaws clenched. Looking at one another, they nod as an agreement is formed. Curtis joins Ari at the table, taking a seat as they wait for dinner, Steve turns back to his best girl, and a vast grin forms, and the sound of claps fills the room. “Well done, baby! I’m so proud of you.” Y/n beams, cheeks turning a rosy pink from the praise as she looks down and plays with the hem of her white cherry-covered apron.

“Thank you, daddy! Food now?” Steve nods.

Chats and laughter fill the kitchen as everyone is sat at the table, eating the massive feast that Steve cooked all day. The three men all take turns doting on the tiny female, wiping her face clean, praising her, hands settled on her thigh, back or stroking her hair.

When dinner ends, Ari cleans up with the help of Curtis as Steve carries Y/n to the bathroom. Setting her down on the toilet seat whilst he runs the bath, adding a vanilla-scented bubble bath, a smile forms on Steve’s face as Y/n’s giggles fill the room. He turns and prepares to help her strip but finds Y/n already naked and ready to wash the day away. The bathroom was filled with hums and laughter as Steve washed her and she played with her rubber ducks.

Steve picks his girl up, wrapping a fluffy pink towel around her and drying her; Steve unplugs the bath. He lathers Y/n in lotions and her skincare products before they head into the bedroom where Ari and Curtis are. Ari opens his arms up and smiles when Y/n runs into them and wraps herself around his warm body. Curtis hands Ari her pyjamas before they all strip off and change. Tiny hands grip Ari’s shoulders as she puts one leg in her pants at a time.

Y/n settles between her men, snuggling close to them, feeling safe and protected. The heat from their bodies warm her cold body; Curtis, Ari and Steve kiss Y/n goodnight, reminding her that she’s a good girl and that they love her and will always love her.

Steve, Ari and Curtis wake before Y/n does; they gently kiss any exposed flesh before getting up and deciding to start breakfast. Once in the kitchen, Curtis leans back against the wooden chair, sipping the freshly made black coffee as a stern glare settles on his face, “so what do you think?”

Ari turns slightly, and the bacon he’s cooking is sizzling, “About yesterday?” Ari chuckles, shaking his head and turning back to the pan. “There’s not much we do, and she’d hate us if we killed him. ‘Cause if you haven’t noticed, our little baby has a crush on her Professor.” Steve nods in agreement, scrambling the eggs in a separate pan as he begins to talk.

“It was wrong of him to hurt our girl like that, maybe….” Steve trails off before shaking his head and focusing on the eggs. Both men stare at him, waiting for him to continue, but after a few minutes of silence, they grow annoyed.

“Maybe what, Jackass?” Curtis growls, frustrated with the whole ordeal. He’s been on edge since you came home crying, so as you can see, he doesn’t have time for Steve to be a dumbass.

“Maybe… We should show him what a whore she really is,” Steve says, turning to face the other two. Ari and Curtis look at each other and shrug before turning back to Steve with dark smirks.

“Why not” Ari shrugs, “but we won’t mention it to her. Let’s leave it a surprise for both of them.” Ari grows hard at the thought, “we’ll need someone to hold him so he doesn’t try to leave, and I know full well that none of us will volunteer.”

“We could give Bucky and Andy a call. We are supposed to see them today, anyway.” Curtis shrugs, gulping down his coffee before they hear tiny feet hitting the ground and giggling. Y/n runs into the room, feeling refreshed and happier than yesterday, dressed in a pastel yellow sundress that is still too small around her chest.

“Good morning, baby girl/little baby/bunny.” All three men greet her at the same time. Y/n grins as she walks over to each of them and gives them their morning kiss. When she reaches Curtis and leans down to kiss him, his hand comes around and goes underneath the dress, squeezing the plump flesh before slapping her ass, causing her to squeal.

Y/n giggles, “naughty daddy.” She makes herself comfortable on his lap while Steve and Ari serve breakfast. The kitchen is again filled with chatter and plates scraping as everyone digs in.

After eating and chatting, Steve looks at the time and stands. “C’mon, baby girl. Time to go to school; you have a big day ahead.” Y/n nods, giving them more kisses and hugs before walking to her bag; she grabs it and heads straight to school.

Y/n dreads going into Professor Jensen’s class, knowing she’s disappointed him, but she’s a big girl who has to suck it up. That’s what daddies tell her anyway when they feed her mouth and princess parts with their lollipops and cream.

Y/n walks into his class with her head down, missing the way his eyes follow her with guilt, placing her things down as she takes a seat. The course begins, and for about twenty minutes, Jake talks about a subject that Y/n wasn’t paying attention to. Her mind was too focused on how last night, none of her daddies played with her and how incredibly horny she felt.

As Jake pushes his glasses up and goes to say something, the classroom door slams open; in storms, five incredibly hot, bulky and angry men. Y/n squeals, excited to see her daddies and their friends. Bucky and Andy send her a small smile before their gaze focuses on the shocked teacher, Y/n’s thighs together, and small whines leave her lips. Curtis turns toward the class and growls for everyone to get out. The rush of feet and people fleeing fills the room before seven people are left.

Y/n gets up and runs to her daddies, giving them a big smile but stops short at the sight of their angry faces. Bucky and Andy walk over to where Jake stands, grab hold of him and push him down into the teacher’s chair. “Bunny, get on the desk now.” She scrambles to the wooden desk, desperately trying to jump her tiny body up. A squeal leaves her lips as she’s suddenly lifted and placed lying on the desk.

Ari’s hands move up Y/n’s legs, dress lifting along the way and flashing everyone her bare cunt. Brows furrowed as Ari looked up at his little baby, “weren’t you wearing those cute little white knickers of yours, little baby? Where’d they go?” Y/n’s cheeks turn a rosy pink as she quickly looks away and hides her face, “and your all wet. Huh…” Ari’s head turns toward where Jake sits, sweat gathering around the poor man’s forehead. “I guess you were right. She is a little whore.” A dark smirk appears on his face.

Curtis walks around until he’s standing in front of Jake, leaning down to his level and giving him a wide twisted grin. He grips Jake’s chin, glaring into his terrified blue eyes. “You ever be a dick to our girl again, we will kill you, and she won’t be able to stop it. Got it?” Jake’s head rapidly nods up and down. Curtis’s eyes move up to Andy’s and nods, causing him to swap places with Steve and join Ari, ready to devour you.

A sharp moan fills the room as Ari dives between his girl’s legs, lapping at her glistening cunt, his thick fingers digging into her thighs as his tongue swirls around her swollen button. His hand slowly moves up her thigh and reaches her core. The tips of his fingers lightly brush her weeping entrance, causing a breathy moan to fall from her lips, their cocks straining to break out of their pants at her desperate whimpers.

Curtis’s gruff voice fills the air, causing chills to run down Y/n’s spine and her cunt to clench around nothing. “Remember, she’s OUR girl. You three are just getting a taste and nothing more, and if you try anything without our say-so. You will regret it, Andy.” The bearded lawyer slowly drags his gaze away from the withering woman's body, looking toward the rugged man. “You will listen to Ari, do as he instructs. He will show you what she likes and dislikes.” The man nods before looking back at Y/n. Curtis turns and looks at Bucky and Jake, “same goes for you two, Bucky. You will listen to Steve and you.” His glare set as he stares down Jake, “you will listen to me.”

Y/n’s hand tangles into Ari’s hair as his tongue swirls around her little clit, his fingers pushing their way through her weeping cunt. “D–Daddy, oh– too much.” She whines, her grip tightening on his hair as he picks up the pace, curling his fingers against her sweet spot whilst he harshly sucks on her clit. Y/n’s other hand comes up and grips Andy’s jean-clad thighs. Little squeals and moans fall from her plump lips as her daddy devours her princess parts, not once coming up for air as he laps up all the juices he can.

Andy and the men standing off to the side all have their eyes focused on her and cocks straining harder against their pants at her breathy moans.

Ari pulls away, causing a bratty whine to leave Y/n’s lips. She tries to push him back between her legs, but she yelps as Ari’s hand slaps against her ass. “Don’t be greedy, little baby. Now take this pretty little dress off and get on your stomach.” Y/n stares at him with wide eyes, no words going through to her, as her brain is fuzzy. Ari smirks, tilting his head as he licks her juices from his lips. “Did you hear me, little baby? Or have you gone stupid.” She continues to stare, her plump lips pouting. Ari looks up at Andy and nods, “well, go on, take her dress off and spin her. My dumb little baby is too stupid to do big girl things.”

Andy reaches over, grabbing hold of the flimsy material before tearing it off her. Y/n’s soft, plump breasts bounce freely before a squeal leaves her lips as she’s flipped. A hand comes down, slapping her ass. Moans and cries leave her as it continues ten more times, her cheeks red and her cunt dripping. “Sorry, little baby, but that’s what you get for being a whore.” Ari leans down and kisses her back before unzipping his pants and nodding for his friend to do the same.

Both men take out their bulging members, their tips angry looking and leaking. Ari turns as he hears a noise, noticing Curtis setting up a phone and putting it on record, “Look baby, you’re gonna be a star.” He smirks, grabbing hold of his swollen cock and rubbing it against her folds, placing it against her lips and tapping. “Open wide for Andy, little baby. He wants you to suck on his lollipop and give you all his cream.” Y/n’s greedy mouth opens, happily moaning around the fat cock. Ari slides deep inside her tight cunt in one quick thrust, causing Andy to throw his head back and let out a deep moan as Y/n vibrates around him.

The two men set a pace, Ari’s hands gripping Y/n’s hips as he roughly fucks deep into her cunt and Andy’s hand wrapped in her hair as he holds her head still for him to fuck harshly into her throat. Their actions were brutal, but the tiny woman between them was causing a puddle on the desk, “you like this, little baby? Being used by daddy’s friend? All these men are watching you, and yet your dripping like a goddamn whore.” Ari pounds harder into her, Y/n’s screams vibrating around Andy’s cock, making her gag when he thrusts deeper.

“Don’t listen to your daddy, honey. You’re not a whore. You’re a good girl. Aren’t you?” Y/n’s eyes lift and stare deep into Andy’s lustful ones, trying to nod in agreement, but the thick cock in her throat causes her trouble. Her eyes cross as Ari hits a particular spot, making drool seep out of the corners of her mouth, Andy’s cock thrusting easier as more saliva comes out.

Andy’s head lolls back, grunting as his end approaches and his thrusts become sloppy. His hands tighten in her hair as he goes faster until he feels his warm cum spurt out deep inside her throat. “Such a good girl, taking me so well.” His large hand strokes her head, “swallow it all, honey. Your daddies told me you like cream.” His cock twitches as she swallows his cum, licking and sucking his member to get all the yummy cream.

Once Andy steps away, tucking his cock back into his jeans. Ari pulls her body closer to him and pounds incredibly hard inside her, “you’ve been a bad girl, little baby. You know you are only supposed to listen to your daddies and not other men.” He throws his head back, gripping your hair as his hips snap deeper and faster. “Did you like his cream? Huh? You want more?” Ari pounds harder when you nod, “dirty little girl, you better thank Andy for giving you his cream.” His hand wraps around her hair, creating a ponytail and pulling until her head is up, and she’s looking at Andy through dazed eyes.

“T–thank you, sir.” Y/n moans out, her cunt clenching around Ari, squeezing the life out of his thick member.

Andy smirks. His hand comes up and strokes her cheek. “What are you thanking me for, honey? Hmm?” His thumb rubs her plump bottom lip, watching it instinctively fall open.

“Y–your – Oh Daddy! I’m going to –” A squeal leaves her lips as Andy slaps her cheek, raising his brow. “S–sorry, sir. Thank you for giving me your cream.” He leans forward and places a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Your welcome, honey.” Andy holds her hands as Ari continues to thrust. His groans can be heard as she squeezes his cock; her juices squirt out and cover Ari and the desk, cum drips down the side of the desk and onto the floor. Causing Ari to thrust deep and release his cum into her womb before stepping back and walking over to the rest of the men with Andy.

Y/n doesn’t get a chance to breathe as her daddy Steve comes over with Bucky; Steve grabs his little girl and flips her onto her back. Softly tickling her sides and smiling down at her when her cute giggles fill the room. “Hey, baby girl.” Steve runs his thumb softly up and down her cheek, a small smile on his face as she grins a brighter and dazed smile back at him.

“Hiya daddy, can… Can I have your balls, pretty please, daddy?” Y/n pouts, eyes growing wide as she stares deeply into his soft blue ones. He nods, continuing to stroke her cheek as his other hand comes down and unzips his jeans, pulling the monster-like cock out, his heavy balls following. Steve’s cock twitches as a needy whimper leave her lips, her gaze locked on the weighted sacks, mind leaving her as she thinks of all the ways to get his cream out of them.

“Open wide, baby girl.” Her mouth eagerly opens as Steve guides his balls toward her mouth, a sharp moan leaving his lips when she latches on and begins to suck. Her small hands come up and stroke his lollipop. Vibrations shoot through her and his balls when Bucky circles her overstimulated button. His thick metal fingers pinch the bud before entering them into her tight hole, pushing Ari’s and her cum back inside her.

“Fuck– she’s still so fucking tight.” Bucky’s eyes connect with Steve’s, “what do you want me to do, boss.” Steve glares at his best friend, annoyed for a split second by his sarcastic tone before a grunt falls from his plump pink lips.

“Finger her, fuck the cum back into the little whore.” A dark look takes over Steve’s features; looking down at his baby, who’s too focused on sucking as much of his balls into her mouth. He flicks her pebbled nipples, rubbing his thumbs over them and slapping them. “You want that, baby girl? You want Bucky to fuck your daddy’s cum back inside you? Wanna be full and pregnant? Yeah, you do, baby.” A thick glob of saliva lands on Y/n’s cheek, “you’re just our dumb baby, gonna carry all our kids. Keep you full and round all year.” Steve collects the spit that landed on your cheek and rubs it onto your nipples, causing your cunt to clench and Bucky to shove his metal fingers in quickly.

“Fucking hell.” Bucky slams his fingers in and out of her, his flesh hand coming up and slapping her swollen clit, causing the small woman’s body to jerk and moan around Steve’s heavy sack. A smirk falls upon Bucky’s face, turning to look at Jake, who sits desperate and hard in his chair, “I bet you can’t wait for your turn, buddy. That’s if Curtis over there lets you” his pace picks up, curling his fingers and hitting your sweet spot, making your toes curl.

Steve pulls his balls out of your mouth, a string of salvia connected. Your whines and moans fill the room, hands reaching out, wanting him back inside you. Y/n’s eyes roll to the back of her head when Bucky continues to curl into your sweet spot. Steve comes forward and taps his cockhead against your plump drooling lips, his precum leaking onto your lip and inside your mouth, causing Y/n’s eyes to shoot open and your pupils to blow out.

“Daddy, daddy, please! Want your cream! Please gimme your cream, please – oh.” Y/n’s tongue sticks out, “B–Bucky, Sir! Feels so good.” She squeals when he slaps his hand on her clit, juices squirting out for a second time. Y/n’s body begins to sag, feeling exhausted, but her half-lidded eyes are focused on her daddy’s cock and balls, not wanting to disappoint him by forgetting her manners. She quickly stutters out, “t–thank you, sir! Cream now?”

“Okay, baby girl. You did so well, so good. Relax your throat; daddy’s going to fill you up with his cream.” Hanging her head over the edge of the desk, mouth opening. Steve grabs the base of his cock, slowly sliding into his girl’s mouth and all down her throat, causing a bump to be seen. His cock twitches as he watches her eyes roll back, and she begins to suck hard; Steve’s hand comes down and wraps around her throat as he starts to thrust, groaning at the feeling of her throat constricting around his thick member. “That’s a good girl; fondle my balls, baby girl.”

Y/n’s shaky hands massage the massive sacks, happily sucking on her daddy as she feels he’s close to giving her his cream. Her tongue struggles to swirl around him, suckling on the mushroom tip, lapping at the pre-cum that leaks out. “Get ready, baby girl. Daddy’s going to cum.” Steve’s pace starts to pick up, feeling his cock twitch wildly before a large groan leaves his lips. Thick white cum spurted out and down his girl’s throat, her lips tightly wrapped around his tip as she sucked as much of his cream out. Practically eating it, Y/n’s eyes close as she hums happily, continuing to caress heavy sacks and milking her daddy’s cock from all his cream.

Steve slowly pulls out, and a drop of cum leaks from her mouth; he quickly catches it with his thumb and sticks the digit in her mouth, watching with happy eyes as she sucks the cum off, giving him a big smile. “Thank you, daddy.” Steve leans down and kisses her plump lips gently before he and Bucky walk over to the other men and swap with Curtis and Jake.

Curtis stares at Y/n with a twisted look in his eyes, strolling over and running a finger down her face. “Hey, bunny. You up for one more?” he whispers softly. Y/n whines and rolls over, babbling quietly about something, Curtis leans over and delivers a harsh smack on her ass, causing her to squeal and try to roll back around, but he holds her down. “What was that, bunny? Are you really being a naughty little slut after everything?” Growing annoyed at her whines, Curtis delivers four more slaps, her squeals slowly turning to moans.

“P–please, daddy, no more. S–so sensitive.” Her wide doe-like eyes stare up at him, tears brimming and her plump bottom lip quivers. His hand comes around and grips her chin, dark blue eyes staring dangerously into hers.

“D–daddy, no more. D–daddy, my teacher called me a whore. D–daddy, I’m such a whiny little brat.” His other hand comes down, delivering a harsher slap, and the grip on Y/n’s chin is so tight that it could cause a bruise. “Don’t you wanna please, daddy? Don’t you want to please your favourite teacher? From what I heard, bunny. You’ve been naughty by not doing your work. Were you going to bat your pretty little eyes, spread your slutty legs, and hope to get away with it?” Y/n rapidly shakes her head, tears falling as her lip trembles.

“N–no, daddy! I wanna please you!” Her head continues to shake, “wasn’t gonna! Was told not to!” Curtis grabs her head, stopping it from moving, gently stroking her cheeks and wiping the tears away.

“It’s okay, bunny. I believe you. Just open wide for daddy and Jake over there, and I promise you that you’ll get to relax afterwards.” His soothing words enter her, the darkness going over her head as she nods. Leaning forward to place a desperate kiss on his lips before lying on her back again, her legs falling open along with her mouth.

Curtis slowly takes out his cock, slapping the head on her cheeks before sliding deep into her throat, his head throwing back and a raspy growl falling from his lips. His head falls forward again, and he places his hands on either side of Y/n’s head whilst thrusting. Curtis’s eyes roam down her body and stop at her empty cunt, dark eyes snapping up and glaring down the shaking man. “She’s not gonna finger herself, trust me. We would know.” A grunt falls from his lips as he feels her tug on his balls.

Jake still hasn’t moved, his mind too focused on not doing the wrong thing because, to be honest, Curtis scares the living shit out of him. His eyes are glued to Y/n’s glistening cunt, never expecting to see it.

“Do you need me to fucking guide you or something? Are you dumb too? The fuck are you waiting for.” Curtis growls, his thrusts harsher as he wraps a hand around Y/n’s throat and squeezes. A gargled moan leaves her moan and vibrates her third daddy’s cock.

Jake’s hand moves toward Y/n’s dripping cunt, swirling a finger around her overstimulated button, causing her to jump and whine against the cock in her mouth. He slides a few fingers in before slowly thrusting them in and out, his thumb rubbing Y/n’s clit whilst curling his fingers. Her back arches, choking on Curtis’s cock and gripping the side of her teacher’s desk while he fucks his fingers into her. Jake’s hand comes around and holds her hip down, pushing his fingers faster and harder into her until she finally convulses, her cum squirting out of her and all over her teacher.

Y/n’s moans are cut off by Curtis’s cock, causing the vibrations to run through him and his cum to shoot out of him and down her throat. The thick and heavy member twitches as his balls tighten, and he grips her hair, thrusting his cream deeper into her mouth, watching her eyes roll to the back of her head as she swallows the delightful cream.

He slowly pulls out, petting her hair before looking between Jake and Bucky. The only two men who haven’t cum this whole time, his gaze returns to his baby’s. “Bunny, do you wanna be covered in cream?” Her dazed eyes shoot open, nodding. Curtis looks at both the men, “well, cover her.”

Bucky walks over to her side, slowly taking his throbbing member out as Jake does the same. The tired and used woman lies there, eyes focused on both of the men’s members as their hands move up and down the base, twisting their wrists and giving their attention to their tips as they take in Y/n’s body. Strokes pick up, feeling their heavy balls tighten and their cocks twitch. White streams of cream shoot out of the thick mushroom tips and cover Y/n. Her squeals of happiness and excitement fill the room as her fingers scoop up the mix of creams and suck on them. Hums of contempt leave her lips before she lies back and closes her eyes.

Both men tuck their softening cocks back into their pants as Steve grabs the tissues in Y/n’s bag, cleans her up and has help putting her cute little dress on. Ari picks her up bridal style before walking out with Steve. Curtis looks at the other three men, his gaze still hard.

Curtis gives them a nod, heading over to the still-recording phone, grabbing it before walking out and leaving the men to be confused and satisfied. He catches up with Steve and Ari, kissing his bunny's forehead gently before they head home. “Thank you, daddies. I love you.” Y/n’s sleepy voice can be heard, causing a soft smile to form all the men’s faces.

Once they get to their house, Ari picks Y/n up again whilst Steve rushes inside to start the bath, adding her vanilla-scented bubble bath and ensuring the temperature is set right. Curtis heads into their bedroom and grabs her pyjamas. The pants are a fluffy pink hello kitty and one of his jumpers, needing her to know he still loves her. When Curtis enters the bathroom, Y/n is submerged in the warm bath water, her eyes closed and head tilted back as Ari washes her hair and Steve washes her body.

Y/n’s eyes open slightly, seeing Curtis holding clothes in the doorway. Her hand reaches out, wanting him to be close as well, a happy and sleepy smile makes its way onto her face as he comes close and holds her hand, his thumb stroking the back of it, and soft giggles fill the room as all three men make her laugh. When the water gets a little cold, she’s picked up, dried and lotioned before clothes are placed on her petite form, and a cute little laugh leaves her lips as she’s picked up and taken to their bed, where a bunch of snacks and water sits.

She settles between her daddies, snuggling into the three beefy men and covering their faces in kisses when she notices a Disney movie is put on. Curtis places the water bottle against her lips, ensuring she has fluids in her system whilst Ari feeds her and Steve massages any part of her body that he can.

thank you for reading! this piece is dedicated to the amazing @junipermuses, wouldn't have been able to come up with it without her.

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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