#I always do a little fist pump when I get em just right

[doodle17]

I am enamored with drawing this goofy ass man

[pasukiyo]

RIDE EM', COWGIRL

tyler owens x f!reader word count: 1,168 warnings: SMUT! tornado sex?, riding, masturbation (both m & f), very sloppy writing, i was just horny after watching twisters okay lol synopsis: it's like he always says, you don't face your fears, you ride em' cowgirl...

 “You take it so fuckin’ well, fuck!”

 Rain pounds against the windows of the truck along with quarter to ping pong sized hail but she rides Tyler faster, his cock pounding faster against her cervix than the little balls of ice that strike the steel of the truck. Her fingernails etch hooks into his shoulders, reminiscent of the hook echo in the supercell on the radar behind her. His palms knead at her hips, guiding her up and down his length, her walls clenching around him. 

 “It’s headin’ east!” Boone’s voice emits from the comms and her hips slow, but Tyler’s hands tighten around them, heaving her up and down his cock himself. Her eyes roll and her head lolls, a string of curses tumbling past her lips. 

 “Come on, baby, almost fuckin’ there,” he mutters beneath his breath like it’s sacred prayer, canting his hips towards hers, bringing her within inches of her end. 

 “Tyler, shit!” She gasps, sinking her nails further into his skin, deep enough to draw blood. “Slow down! I can’t… I can’t fucking take it…”

 He shakes his head, a low rumble thundering deep in his chest like a crack of lightning. “Yes you can, come on,” he groans. “You do so well, takin' my cock so damn good.”

 “Tyler, the hell you doing? We got a vortex on the ground at your six, so are we ridin’ this thing or not?” Boone’s voice sounds from the comms again and Tyler hisses, pressing the pads of his fingers down into the flesh of her waist, hips angrily thrusting up into her. 

 A sob wracks her body and she slumps against him when his hips finally still, his cock sitting dormant inside of her. Every muscle aches in her body and her core practically screams for more, feeling the blisteringly white hot bliss she felt mere moments ago begin to slip away. Perspiration drips in beads down the slides of her face onto his sweat-slicked skin and she lets her lids flutter closed, feeling Tyler’s chest heave up and down beneath her cheek. 

 Tyler huffs and reaches for the transceiver, bringing it up to his lips. “Yeah, we’re ridin’.”

 Her eyelids snap open as Tyler practically shoves her into the passenger seat and she hisses when the back of her head meets the window. “Tyler!” She exclaims as he buckles himself into his harness, gesturing for her to do the same. 

 “Harness on, baby,” he snickers. “This ain’t your first rodeo.”

 As her orgasm slips further away, she scrambles to sit upright in her seat, buckling herself into her harness as Tyler shifts the truck into drive. She hardly has time to get herself properly fastened before she’s being jostled about, slippery palm struggling to find its grip on the handle above her head. 

 The truck bobs up and down against the unsteady ground it drives on, her thighs instinctively closing together at the friction against her core. Tyler glances over when she does, feeling his dick twitch until it’s unbearable— he can’t not take it into his fist. 

 She turns her head almost as soon as he does, feeling her stomach do a somersault as he pumps himself in one hand, steering the truck with the other. 

 “Tyler, we’re driving straight into a fuckin’ tornado right now and you’re jerking yourself off?” She asks with a dent between her brow and he turns, grinning as he does it. 

 “‘If you feel it, chase it,’ amirite?” He says with a wink and she’d admit— it makes her clit throb. He side-eyes her sore, puffy clit before turning back to the mass of churning wind in front of them. “You should really take care of your situation down there. It’s good for the nerves.”

 Blood bites her cheeks as he steers them closer to the tornado and all she can do is stare as he pumps himself, her own hand itching to be between her legs. Tyler drives them into the twister and she can’t fight it anymore, one hand sliding over her clit, the other tightening around the handle above her head. 

 Tyler’s laugh thunders the small interior of the truck, even as rain and wind and hail pound against the top of the vehicle. He anchors the truck into the ground and fires off the rockets, tightening his fist around his cock, tugging angrily, damn near ferally. 

 Tyler’s a fucking animal, anyone could see that. But he’s a whole new breed when they’re alone, absolutely primal. 

 The pads of her fingers race back and forth over her nub, her legs shaking as she brings herself back towards that edge Tyler nearly pushed her over moments before. His name stumbles past her lips in a whimper and she feels his hand snake around her head, bringing her closer. 

 “Fuck, come here,” he growls against her lips before enveloping them with his, his tongue like a bull she struggles to stay atop. There’s a knot building at the pit of her belly that’s on the precipice of rupturing, closer and closer with every flick of her fingers against her clit. 

 “Gettin’ close?” He asks against her mouth and she mewls, nodding. He grins against her lips, “do it.”

 The wind pounds against the steel of the truck and the vehicle rocks as the vortex twirls around them. She used to think this was crazy, absolutely utterly insane and it is— but she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t equally exhilarating. She thinks risk is what she’s been missing all her life— and then she met Tyler. It seems risk has been her new normal ever since they started dating. 

 But this?

 This was unlike anything she’s ever done before. 

 When she finally felt herself tip over the edge and her orgasm wreaks havoc through her body, like a cyclone meeting the ground, carving a path into the earth in its wake. A loud string of curses tumble past Tyler’s lips as he, too, meets his end and they’re two identical supercells, spinning into one another until they become one. His mouth is a seal over hers, warm and wet when they meet. Her mind is numb with sex and all she can think to say is his name, chanting it over and over like it’s holy word. 

 The tornado dissipates around them and she can hear the crew cheer through the radios when Tyler finally pulls away, a thread of saliva a bridge between their lips. She falls limp against the back of her seat, the aftershocks of her release rattling her bones. 

 “You’re fuckin’ crazy, you know that, Owens?” She finally says once she’s come to and Tyler laughs beside her, caressing the side of her face with his knuckles. 

 “I always say, ‘you don’t face your fears, you ride em’, cowgirl,” He adds with a wink. Her eyes roll and she reaches for her panties he’d thrown in the backseat, pulling them up her legs. 

 “Jesus, you can’t get any cornier, can you?”

a/n; outing myself as an oklahoman (yes, i do in fact live in the sooner state unfortunately but maybe fortunately in this context lmfao) because the inner storm enthusiast inside of me is SCREAMING after watching twisters. please don't mind my sloppy ass writing here, i was just incredibly horny after watching it LMFAOOOOOO (this is also not proofread!)

🌪️ if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! it means the world to me 🫶

[playedcrowd5610]

Take Flight - Transformers x Danny Phantom

Summary: Danny takes Starscream for a flight to help blow off some steam. And maybe there is more to Danny than meets the eye.

---

Notes

Set in a series where Danny finds Starscream one day and decides to start haunting the Decepticons. That's basically all the context you need but if you want more here is the rest of the series:

Haunting the Nemesis

Part 1: Chasing Stars

Part 2: Burning Rubber

Part 3: Adventures of the Decepticons' Pet Ghost Or Tumblr Master List

---

Danny was sitting on a shelf in Starscream’s room which had been repurposed over the last couple weeks to function as Danny’s personal space. It took up a small corner of the Con’s quarters and was out of the way enough that Starscream didn’t almost trip over Danny every time he paced his little circles around the room.

Danny’s eyes tracked the seeker as he went back and forth, clinking on the metal flooring with every step. Tension seemed to cling to Starscream’s frame, almost enough that Danny could sense it through his repressed EM field. His wings twitching in irritation, he muttered to himself as he reviewed reports. 

Danny sighed and pushed himself out of the old ratty beanbag he was sitting in – one of the only items to his name at this moment – and walked over to the edge of the shelf, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You know, for someone who likes to rant about how he should be in charge, you don’t look like you’re enjoying the whole ‘second-in-command’ thing.”

Starscream paused mid-step, his optics narrowing as he glanced over at Danny. "It's none of your concern. And I have far more important things to worry about than engaging in idle chatter," He waved his servo dismisivly in Danny’s direction. “Do you not have your own data pads to read over? Or better yet, a place to go, down on Earth, where you can leave me to do my job in peace?”  

Danny rolled his eyes and straightened up. "Yeah, I get it, you're the big, bad Decepticon who doesn't need a break, right?" He waved his hand dismissively . "But seriously, Screamy, you’ve been pacing like a caged tiger for hours. What’s the deal?"

Starscream bristled at first but after a moment his wings drooped, his frame tense but less defensive.

"Let’s just say… the weight of leadership can be taxing."

Danny swayed back and forth on his feet. "Right. ‘Taxing .’ You mean exhausting." He paused. "Look, how about you blow off some steam? Let’s go for a flight – it can do wonders to clear your head." That was when Danny felt most relaxed anyway. He was sure it was similar for Starscream since he knew how much the mech loved to fly, especially with how antsy and stressed he was when his wings had been crushed and he couldn’t get out of the medbay for days.

Starscream blinked, clearly surprised by the suggestion. “A flight? With you?"

Danny shrugged, grinning. "Why not? You get some air, I get some fun. Everybody wins. C’mon, when’s the last time you did something just to enjoy it?"

Starscream’s optics flitted between his datapad and then Danny and back again. After a long pause, the Seeker sighed.

“ Very well, but only for a little while. Soundwave will have my helm on a platter if I don’t finish these before the next solar cycle." 

Danny laughed and pumped a fist in the air. “I've always wanted to fly in a jet.” 

Starscream picked him up and tossed him haphazardly into his subspace before heading towards the door. “Don’t think this will be a regular thing. You are lucky I need to stretch my wings often or I’ll lock up.” The voice reverberated around Danny, who just smiled to himself in response.

-

The human lounged in Starscream's cockpit, arms crossed behind his head like he was sunbathing on a beach, not soaring thousands of feet in the air. Danny looked up at the bright blue mid-day sky and the white stretches of cloud that floated by. As much as Starscream hated to admit that the human was right, he could feel the tension leaving his frame every moment they were in the sky. This was his element. 

Danny laughed to himself and Starscream redirected his attention back to him. “You know, for a Decepticon who brags about being aerodynamic, I expected the ride to be smoother.” Danny taunted.

Starscream's engines rumbled in protest as if offended by the jab. “If you're so concerned about turbulence, perhaps you'd prefer to walk next time," he responded.

Danny grinned, glancing down towards Starscream’s instruments, “You know, I thought you would be faster than this.” The human then yawned! Yawned ! Starscream felt slightly foolish taking the very much obvious bait. But who was he to deny the human his true speed? 

Danny must have sensed his field shift at the rising challenge because the human smirked to himself right before Starscream dived out of the clouds. Danny jumped at the sudden drop, likely expecting Starscream to fly forward rather than down. The human’s eyes widened as he fully sat up.

Starscream smirked to himself at being able to surprise the human for one of the first times since they met. Once they were only a little ways above crashing into a mountain, Starscream changed trajectory and shot back up to the sky, spinning as he did so. He went up as high as his sensors said he could safely go without damage and dived back down before evening out. “How’s that for flying?” Starscream asked, voice full of pride.

The human laughed and smiled brightly at the excitement, “That was great!” He tapped the side of Starscream’s canopy. “How about I show you some of my own tricks?” Starscream didn’t get the chance to voice his confusion before the human suddenly flickered out of the visible spectrum and fell through his seat, out through the bottom of the cockpit. 

Starscream’s systems froze. He knew the human could phase (how else could he have gotten them out of that rubble all those weeks ago?) but he had to be a moron to just fall out into the open sky! He was going to die! Did the human want Starscream to catch him? Starscream scanned the area and was about to dive straight down when suddenly, laughter met his audials from next to him.

Danny suddenly floated up next to Starscream’s wing, fits of giggles escaping the human's mouth, completely unconcerned by the spark attack Starscream was just given thinking the human had just killed himself for no reason. How was he supposed to know the kid could fly?

“I’m okay Screamy, don’t panic.” The kid flew out in front of him and knocked on his windshield. Starscream was still moving, albeit not as fast, but Danny was able to keep up with him while flying backwards . The human tilted his head to the side with a smile.

“I didn’t panic. I was simply looking for where you went.” Starscream said indignantly, he then paused. “I didn’t know you could fly.”

Danny smiled lightly. “Sorry, there are a lot of things I don’t tell a lot of people. Most people can’t do the things I do, and if they find out about it I can be in danger.” Danny sighed and flew back slightly to sit on the edge of Starscream’s wing, kicking his feet in the wind, arms supporting him as he leaned back, closing his eyes. 

The human should be flung off into the open sky being out there. And Starscream should also definitely be feeling dragged enough to throw him off course, but he didn’t feel anything . Strangely enough, he could also hear the human clearly, even with the wind. 

“What kind of danger?” Starscream found himself asking. The human didn’t seem to be afraid of anything on the Nemesis, whether that be looking into the barrel of a blaster or egging Knockout on to try and cut his head off with a buzz saw. This was the strangest human Starscream had ever come across. But what could put him in danger, Starscream needed to know. Not because he cared or anything, but because he needed to discover what was scarier to this human than the Decepticons. 

Danny laughed dryly. “You may be able to tell that I’m not very normal.” He then stood up and started walking along Starscream’s wingspan like a balance beam. Starscream bristled as the boots stepped across a spot he knew he couldn’t reach to clean if the human got dirt there. But he decided not to comment, as he was curious enough to disregard this infraction for the time being.

“Yes, very much. Your lack of self-preservation is astounding,” Starscream muttered, and he would have rolled his optics if he could. 

Danny laughed again as he held his arms out to keep balance. “Lots of humans don’t like things that aren’t normal. They want everything to be like them. And when they come across someone who isn’t... Well, it doesn’t end well.”

Starscream was puzzled. Why wouldn't the human just come out with it already? It was like he was dancing around the subject and Starscream needed to get answers. “What do you mean?”

The kid sighed and ran a hand through his white hair. “I can get hurt or experimented on, Starscream. Other humans will hunt me down for what I am. Even though I… Used to be one just like them.” Starscream could sense the kid's EM field getting more bitter and upset. “They don’t care though. They think I’m a danger to them and should be extinguished along with anyone else like me – which is why I made it my mission to help protect others like me and get them somewhere safe before they get hunted down.” 

The human walked up Starscream’s dorsal strut and laid down flat on him, the back of his head leaning on the glass of his cockpit. Starscream stayed silent for a long moment. And Danny didn’t speak up again, staring at the sky. “Why did you show me your abilities then? Back in the cave-in, and now, as far as I know, you have only ever shown them to me and no one else on the Nemesis.” Starscream questioned.

“Because I trust you, Starscream.” Danny pat his hand against the metal plating under him. Starscream’s processor stalled, and he would have dropped out of the sky if his coding hadn’t kept him in flight. In all of the Con’s life, even before the war started, he had never been told he was trustworthy. His classmates back at the academy disliked him immensely and stayed away from him, and even his trine believed him to be untruthful at times… Which he was. Back on the Nemesis, everyone treated everyone with distrust and disdain. But this human trusts him? 

“You know…” Danny started, grabbing Starscream’s attention again. “I think I can fly faster than you.” 

Starscream made an affronted noise. “ Please , I’m the lead air commander of the Decepticon army and the fastest mech you will find on the Nemesis. You wouldn’t be able to beat me.” 

Starscream felt a flicker of amusement cross Danny’s field. “Let's race then, come on! The last one to cross that tree line past that river over there wins.” 

“You're on.”

---

Art

Haunting the Nemesis

[cloudlessly-light]

Prompt! Hotch and Emily make a film of themselves and watch it together

Title: We got it wrong but it’s alright   Summary: They made a tape thinking no one would ever see it. They were wrong, so so wrong. Stands alone but is connected to the Hotchniss getting caught series Let it be all night   Word Count: 2,3k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, oral, dirty talk, squirting, rough, oral sex

“I don’t know about this sweetheart.” Aaron’s eyes drift to the camera that’s not on yet at the end of their bed. “Isn’t it weird?”  

Emily chuckles lightly at her husband’s apprehensiveness. He’s sitting in dark blue boxers on the edge of the bed, looking like something out of a dream and she can’t believe he doesn’t see how fucking delicious he is. 

“If you don’t want to do this, that’s okay.” She still assures him, cause she’s not going to make him do anything he isn’t comfortable with.  

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” He gently caresses her soft skin as she comes to stand in front of him, the lingerie she’s wearing is already causing a stirring inside of him. “But, what if someone finds it?”  

“No one’s going to find it honey.” She angles his face up and kisses him. “It’ll be our dirty little secret, something for us. Just imagine looking back at this when we’re old and grey.” 

“I’ll still bend you over your walker when we’re old and grey.” He jokes and she laughs and it’s one of his favorite sounds in the world. “So, we’re doing this then?” His hands become a little more insistent as he grabs at her a little tighter. He catches her smirk right before he pulls her down for another kiss. 

“Just let me turn the camera on.” She pulls away and presses the button, the red light quickly turning green and she smiles at him. “And action.”  

It surprises Aaron how quickly he forgets about the camera at the end of the bed. That his mind is utterly and completely on his wife the moment she straddles his lap and pushes him down on the bed. She kisses him with fervor, her tongue quickly finding his and a little sigh falls against him and suddenly everything he can think about is her.  

His hands move over her body, feels the goosebumps on her thighs and the heat of her skin against him. When she grinds against his hardening shaft he groans and Emily does it again. 

“You’re already so hard.” She mumbles somewhere near his jaw as she presses hot open-mouthed kisses against his skin. “It feels so good baby.” 

“Em.” Is all he gets out as she continues to kiss down his body. He jerks when she bites his nipple playfully, then sooths the sting with her tongue and his fingers tangle in her hair, wordlessly urging her to continue down towards his tented boxers.  

She gets them off with a little help from him and she licks her bottom lip from the sight of him, hard and hot to the touch, a bead of precum glistening on his tip. She watches the way his abs tense when she wraps her hand around him and gives him a lazy pump. 

“What do you want?” She asks through her own soft breathing and his hips jerk into her touch. 

“Suck me off baby, let me feel what that pretty mouth can do.”  

The filthy smirk is poorly hidden before she takes him in her mouth and swirls her tongue around the tip. She continues to pump his base as she slowly takes more and more of him, bopping her head in time with her twisting hand. Aaron groans at the feel of her wet tongue and hot mouth, the fist not gripping her hair, grips the sheets instead in a vain attempt to keep grounded. 

“Jesus Christ Em.” He gets out through clenched teeth. “Fuck yeah, just like that.”  

Emily loves to watch him, he’s always so responsive to her touch, and this time is no different. She’s positioned so she can’t see the camera, but she’s pretty sure the way her underwear is soaked through will be visible on screen from the way she’s arching her back as she continues to work him over. She lets the flat of her tongue lick from his base to his tip, her eyes fastened on the way he’s swallowing repeatedly, how his pulse beats in his neck, the sweat that’s starting to cover his body.  

Aaron’s eyes opens and he catches the somewhat smug look on her face, and he knows that if he lets her continue this will be over before it really began. He knows he catches her off guard when he suddenly sits up and pulls her towards him. The surprised yelp that escapes her makes him chuckle as he pins her against the bed. 

“Why did you do that?” She pants, her tongue peeking out to taste him on her lips. 

“Because I wanted to.” He says before kissing her, effectively shutting her up and keeping her distracted enough not to notice the way his hand creeps down her body. The sound of him ripping her panties of her hips makes her gasp and her nails dig into the side of his neck. 

“I could have taken them off for you.” She teases and he smirks as he nuzzles her nose with his. 

“I know.” He looks just as smug as she did when his fingers are met by her wetness. He slowly pushes them through her folds, teasing her for only a moment before slowly pushing two fingers inside of her. “You’re going to come on my fingers, showing the camera just how wet you get for me as you do.” He mutters against her ear as his finger’s curls and twists inside of her, earning a string of whimpers and moans from her. Any reservations he might have had was gone, all he felt was want, all he could think about was the way Emily would moan as she gave herself to him. 

“Fuck, Aaron.” She gasped as he pushed his fingers up while his palm pressed against her clit, causing her pussy to clench around him. She knew what he wanted, what he was doing and she could feel her thighs trembling as he moved his hand hard enough for the muscles in his arm to tense.  

His grin was feral, his eyes close to wild as he heard the way her pussy got wetter, the sound filthy as it mixed with Emily’s breathless moans. 

“Don’t stop… do not fucking stop.” She gripped the hair in his neck tightly as the pressure build inside of her. “I’m so close.” She breathed and Aaron nodded against her neck where he was pressing kisses and licking over her pulse. 

“Do it, soak my hand, come for me.” He whispered and Emily whined, the sound low and desperate as Aaron ripped her orgasm through her body.  

Her back arched and her thighs trembled as she squirted, her wetness drenching his hand and the sheets as he muttered words of encouragement against her ear that she was barely able to hear over the ringing in her ears. She was gasping for air, her body spasming even as his hand slowed down and only a faint press of the heel of his hand against her clit was all she felt. 

“Good girl.” He stamped a kiss to her lips and wiped his hand on the bed before getting to his knees and then dragged her body up so she was sitting. He made quick work of removing her bra and then told her to get on her hands and knees. “Face the camera.” He mumbled and Emily was quick to get into position, her eyes flitting towards the lens at the end of the bed.  

She felt a rush of arousal and how her cheeks heated when she thought about them watching this tape later and her back arched. She felt Aaron behind her, the heat of his body against hers and then his hand landing on her ass with a quick slap that made her skin tingle and a moan to fall from her lips.  

Aaron draped himself over her back for a moment, speaking against her ear as his eyes found the camera. 

“Don’t look away.” He told her before pressing inside of her. He groaned as his cock stretched her tight center while Emily moaned and her face fell forward.  

“Oh god…” She whimpered when his fingers tangled in her hair and pulled her head back up. Her jaw went slack as he started to move behind her, his pants shaky against her ear. “Baby, faster.” She pleaded and she felt him smile against her shoulder before he straightened behind her. 

The sound his hips slapping against her was loud when he pushed as deep inside of her as he could before pulling back just as quickly. Aaron groaned at the feeling of her moving back to meet his trusts with equal fervor. He looked down to see where he disappeared inside of her and it only made him fuck her harder. 

“You feel so good.” He growled and let go of her hair only to grip her hips in a tight hold. He pulled her plaint body back against him, his hips snapping roughly against her and when Emily whimpered his name he knew she was getting close again. 

She had fallen to her elbows to brace herself from the force of him, her moans were muffled against the bed as she bit down on the sheets to keep from screaming too loudly. The pleasure was building, spreading through her so quickly she felt like she couldn’t breathe.  

Aaron continued until she was buckling wildly against him, her body straining as she got closer to her release. When she cried out his name he bit the inside of his cheek to keep his own orgasm off as Emily clenched around him. He didn’t stop even when she was squirming away, instead he pushed her down on the bed until she was laying down on it and he was straddling the back of her thighs. 

“Aaron-” She whimpered and she felt his mouth back at her ear. 

“Again.” He told her simply before straightening again and kept her pinned to the bed by pressing down at the small of her back.  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” She whined as he pressed right into her spot, forcing the pleasure to build back up inside of her again.  

“That’s my good girl.” He praised her through his own labored breaths. Sweat was dripping down his forehead, his own release getting closer by each push of his hips. The sounds that fell from Emily only got him closer and when she was starting to tighten around him for a third time his head fell back in bliss.  

“Come with me.” She mumbled, her voice raspy and shaking and she felt his fingers dig into her skin in response. His groans and moans were turning louder too, his release just as close as hers. 

“Let go.” Was all he got out before his orgasm washed over him without warning. He grunted as his vision went fuzzy and all he could feel was pleasure. Emily was trembling underneath him, the heat of his release enough to push her over the edge for a third time. 

They panted and moaned together and it wasn’t until Emily had stopped shaking that Aaron fell down beside her, hugging her close. 

* 

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that they had the time to watch the tape they made. At first it had felt slightly awkward but as Aaron watched the way Emily lost control and Emily saw the pure want on his face the awkwardness shifted to tension.  

By the time Emily was coming for the second time in the video, she was in his lap, riding him with her back against his chest as they continued to watch. When they watched themselves come at the end of the video, Aaron spurted inside of her with a loud groan. 

It became clear to the both of them, that watching themselves was something they clearly enjoyed. 

* 

“God I’m so full.” JJ grunted as she leaned back on the couch, her hand rubbing over her stomach. “But it was so good, thank you for dinner Hotch.”

“Hey, how do you know I didn’t help cooking?” Emily argued but was quickly met by knowing looks from her friends seated around their living room.

“It’s okay sweetheart.” Aaron mumbled before kissing her temple as Dave chuckled at the exasperated look on Emily’s face.

“I can cook!” She replied with a scoff just as Derek and Penelope came back from the kitchen to join them.

“Oh come on Princess,” Derek laughed as he headed towards the couch to sit down next to JJ. “If there’s one thing I’m certain of in this world, it’s the fact that you can not cook.” He sat down on the couch while still laughing at his friend’s expense.

“Don’t look away.”

“Oh god…”

The entire room got silent as the video appeared on the TV, clearly showing Aaron and Emily, naked and sweaty as they face the camera.

“What the…” Spencer started while Emily jolted towards the TV and stood in front of it, trying to hide the screen but barely able to cover half of it. Her face was beet red as she looked around the room while Aaron was looking for the remote.

“Is that a-”

“It’s nothing!” Aaron interrupted Penelope who stared with wide eyes.

“Turn the fucking TV off!” Emily barked when Aaron failed to find the remote as the video kept playing behind her and the rest of the team started to move around too.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“That’s my good girl.”

Finally Derek saw the remote that had been wedged between the cushions when he sat down and he quickly turned the TV off, leaving the room in silence.

Emily looked at her husband, her embarrassment clear and she could see the same look of mortification on him. “Well,” JJ was the first to speak as she sat back down on the couch. “It’s nothing we all haven’t seen before.”

[ur-dad-satan]

Hi

I want to write but, I have like no motivation to do so. So have a bit of an unnamed OC book about a non-binary college student named Emerald who becomes a supervillain with the goal of getting revenge on everyone who wronged them and their friends starting with the person who started it all. It's just part of the first chapter and the whole plot isn't fleshed out yet. I don't even know if I'm going to finish this book, but maybe if enough people actually like it, I'll post the whole chapter.

(TW for deadnaming, bigotry, etc. You don't have to read, but please at least look at the picrews of the characters at the bottom. I worked hard on them please)

Later that day, I had finally made it back to mine and Felix's apartment. Felix seemed to have just gotten home too because they were rummaging through the fridge and still wearing one of my sweaters.

"Hello my favorite queer!" I greeted in a sing-song voice. I could tell that Felix was rolling his eyes with a goofy smile spreading across his face.

"Hey, fruit!" Felix greeted back. We always called each other silly names like that. It was fun and we never got mad because we respected each other's boundaries. "How were your boring classes?"

"Boring, just like you said. And yours?"

"I didn't fall asleep during Mr. Thompson's class today so that's a plus. And we did a lab during Mrs. Graham's class!" Felix said excitedly and started to ramble on about some drama between these two random people in their math class. 

Felix was one of the most important people in my life. I loved them to death, from their bright red dyed hair, their fern green eyes, and their bright, crooked, and contagious smile, they were my best friend. I always had their back and I know that they would have mine too. An hour or two later, there was a knock on the door. Felix and I were both sitting on the couch and quickly did a game of 'rock, paper, scissors' to see which one of us would open the door, which I lost. When I opened the door, Alex and Ryder were stood there with small bags and wide smiles. 

"Hey guys!" I greeted.

"Hi Em!" Ryder said pulling me into a hug and placed a small platonic kiss on my forehead. He was taller than me and wouldn't let me forget it; I didn't mind though. Even though he was anti-confrontational, he would still protect us if anything happened. A true gentle giant if I do say so myself.

"Hey babes." Alex smiled and also gave me a tight hug. Alex was the gremlin of the group. She was always down for anything whether it would be fighting, telling a waiter/waitress that they got our food wrong, or anything in between. They were unpredictable, but we loved them regardless. After exchanging pleasantries, we turned on some music and all started to get ready to go to dinner.

*.*.*.*.*.

I didn't think that day - this one singular dinner - would put me on my current path, but here we are.

After dinner, we decided that we weren't done having fun yet. It's Friday night and we're young adults! Why shouldn't we be able to have fun with a little alcohol!? So, we four decided to walk downtown and enjoy the scenery. We decided to go to a little bar not far from Fe and I's apartment so we could all just crash back there afterwards. We stayed in the bar for a little while and noticed that the bartenders had changed two people with dyed hair, nose piercings, and pins on their clothes, to a bored looking couple.

"Let's get more drinks!" Alex suggested happily over the music.

"Okay, but not too much! Some of us have to work tomorrow, right?" Felix reminded which Ryder nodded in agreement to. He worked at a library, and no one wants to get help from a grumpy librarian. Alex fist pumped in excitement before pulling us toward the bar to order.

"Hey, I'm Lindsey and I'll be your bartender for tonight. What can I get you?" The femme presenting bartender greeted us with a fake smile. I didn't know why at first, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I had seen her before. 

"Hi! I want a Mojito, please!" Alex ordered. He was having the time of his life and already a little bit tipsy. After that, Felix ordered a Tequila Sunrise, Ryder got a "Dark and Stormy", and I got a simple Whisky Sour. Lindsey nodded and turned away to start making our drinks. To lessen the load, she told a guy to do some to help her and our drinks were done in like five minutes.

"Okay! One Tequila Sunrise for the red head." She started and handed Felix their drink. " A Mojito for the hyper girl," She gave Alex his drink causing his smile to fall a bit. He had a big "he/him" pin on his top loud and proud. "A Dark and Stormy for the tall one, and a whisky sour for the brown-haired girl." Lindsey ended and gave Ryder and I our drinks as well. I was going to say thank you and let go of the misgendering because not everyone knows what the non-binary flag looks like, but I noticed that Alex looked upset. I couldn't just not say anything.

"Thank you, but actually you got some of our pronouns wrong." I said politely. Lindsey looked at me with a blank expression and didn't move to say anything for a moment.

"Oh. That's crazy. Sucks I guess." She said with a small laugh. I looked around at my friends and noticed Ryder giving Lindsey the most criminal side eye.

"First of all, that's basic respect. You don't have to do anything but say sorry and correct yourself. Second, you... wait- I remember you. Lindsey Smith? From Thermopolis, Wyoming?" I asked and silently hoped that I was wrong.

"Yeah? Do I know you?" She asked. I looked down at the drink in front of me and let out a rough sigh. My chest started to burn in vexation and when I looked up, I made eye contact with Felix.

"You know what? You do." I started. "Have I ever said what made my parents put me in Rightside Camp? You guys remember Rightside, yeah? Alex? Ryder? Do you remember the "treatments" that they put us through before the age of 17?" I asked making sure Lindsey could hear. All three of my friends looked up at me; Ryder's eyes got wide, and Alex sunk in his seat and stirred his drink slowly before taking a small sip as the venom filled words dripped from my lips.

"You haven't told me yet, Em." Felix said. I laughed humorlessly and began my lament.

"When I was a freshman in high school, I figured out that I was non-binary. I wanted to tell my best friend who knew everything about me because I thought I could trust her. I went up to her one morning at school and I said 'Hey Linds,'" I looked up at Lindsey to see her looking confused and a bit annoyed. "'I have something really important to tell you, but I'm still figuring it out, so you can't tell anyone. Okay?' And she said 'okay.' I told her 'I think I'm non-binary. I don't feel like a girl and I'm definitely not a boy.' And she said that she wouldn't tell anyone. By second period, the whole grade knew. By lunch, the entire student body knew. By last period, every teacher in our conservative school was looking at me like I had a disease. When I got home, my parents were waiting for me at the door. Do you know what they did Fe?" I asked Felix but kept looking at Lindsey.

"What happened?" I could hear the worry in their voice. 

"They sent me to Rightside, a conversion camp, at the ripe old age of 15 years old. They took so much from me all because one little girl decided to gossip, and say shit against her friend's back. All because one little girl craved attention or whatever so much that she would completely betray and out her own best friend. So yes, Lindsey Smith, you do know me. And even if you don't remember me, I remember you. You ruined my life." Lindsey looked at me like I had said the most outrageous thing she had ever heard.

"Eliza Johnson?" she asked incredulously.

"That hasn't been my name in years. It's Emerald now." I was silently seething at this point, and I couldn't tell whether I wanted to either leave, or drown in my whisky.

"Well, whatever your name is, I'm sorry you feel this way, but it's not my problem. It's been like 10 years since then, and I'm working. Maybe you should have been more careful with telling people your secrets." The brunette said in a disgustingly condescending tone.

"Okay, I don't know who you think you're talking to but-" I started to become loud as the hurricane of anger, hatred, disgust, and so much more started to bubble over and spill onto the fire that was that memory, before Ryder and Felix could pull me away from the counter in an attempt to defuse the situation.

"Okay! That's enough! Em, honey! It's okay. Calm down. That bigot isn't worth your breath." Ryder turned me away to make me focus on him and calm down. Felix also held onto me to make sure I couldn't go back to argue with her. I'm not religious, but I thank God for the friends that I have. Wait, friends!

"Alex! Where is he?!" I turned around and saw Alex looking extremely angry while talking to Lindsey and the guy who helped her make our drinks.

Bonus: I made Picrews of the characters so these are my favorites of each. In order, meet Alex Gonzales, Emerald Johnson, Felix Hall, and Ryder Hassan. Picrew creators are in the pictures.

[hqmillioncorn]

True love will NOT bloom on the battlefield

“Bull’s eye!” Oleo pumped a fist into the air and let out another holler.  Another dot had pierced their dartboard and even though Oleo had far less points than Butter at the moment he was still glad to celebrate every little victory that he got. “Do you think Momoka would believe me if I told her I hit a bull’s eye?” Oleo asked his best friend Butter.  “I think she’d believe you!” That was just like Butter to say, ever the optimist.  “Ha! Knew it!” Oleo smiled and watched as Butter got ready to take his turn. “Yeah! Get em’ Butter!” Truthfully Oleo had no idea why there was a drawing of B’ig Nunh on Butter’s dartboard but if that’s how Butter wanted to play then who was he to say no to it.  Maybe it would explain how good Butter was doing this game as opposed to the rest but who could really know?

ffxiv write day 19: taken with @windupnamazu 's lunya and @windupiceheart 's vertical and (sorry) b'ig nunh

babycorn practices her reading in what perhaps is the worst way possible

“LUnyaaaaaaaaaaAAAAA!!!!”

The sound of someone knocking about a million times per second was enough to knock Lunya out of her weaving. “Babycorn.” There were only two people in the mansion that ever knocked on her door like that. One of them was Coco and the other was Babycorn. 

And since there was no more than ten seconds of uncontrollable wailing on the other side of the door–the more likely it was that it was Babycorn. 

Lunya stabbed her sewing needle in its cushion and hid it away just outside of Babycorn’s view. “Coming!” She yelled back, hoping that would get Babycorn to stop hitting her door so hard. It did not. 

“Lunya! Lunya! Lunya!” 

Babycorn was knocking and saying Lunya’s name in a rhythm now. It was almost impressive how long she was able to keep it up. 

The knocking finally came to a stop when Lunya grabbed her doorknob, swinging her door open not long after that. As Lunya had correctly guessed, it was Babycorn on the other side of the door all along. “Hi Lunya!” Babycorn innocently waved at her. Almost like she hadn’t been knocking on Lunya’s door like a maniac. “I have a question!!” 

Lunya watched as Babycorn wiggled her raised hand around all over the place. “Hi to you too Babycorn!” 

“Lunya I read a book!” Babycorn smiled. 

Of course Babycorn had forgotten about her earlier question. Lunya figured she would ask again when she remembered. As always. “Oh! Congrats!” Lunya knew Babycorn was slowly learning to read and had even started to practice her writing too. 

She was making progress according to the writing Lunya had seen on the walls earlier that week. “You’re not writing on the walls anymore right Babycorn?” 

“Nope!” Babycorn shook her head. “I’m writing on the ground now!”

“You what?” 

Before Lunya could ask Babycorn to elaborate more on what she had just admitted, Babycorn remembered what she had come to Lunya’s room to do in the first place. “Oh! That’s right Lunya! I wanted to ask you something super duper important!!” 

Things that were super duper important to Babycorn often ranged from either the most mundane thing ever to asking Lunya what she was supposed to do when the kitchen was on fire.

While Lunya tried to smell the air for any sign of smoke let Babycorn know she could ask whatever question she had burning in her mind. Which hopefully was the only thing burning. 

“Lunya! Am I dating B’ig Nunh?”

Suddenly Lunya started to wish there was smoke in the air instead. “...C-Can you repeat that?” By now there weren’t too many things Babycorn did that would surprise or shock Lunya, having known the girl for years now. But every now and then something would happen that reminded Lunya she could never keep her guard down.

Surely she hadn’t heard Babycorn right. Right?

“Am I dating B’ig Nunh?!” Once she asked the second time, Babycorn pulled up the book she had been holding under her arm the entire time. “This book said I went on a date with him!” The book she held up had a picture of B’ig Nunh on the cover along with the very concerning words of Go and date and with. Not in that order. 

The aforementioned catboy was mysteriously shirtless and posing on a beach looking straight at the person looking at the cover. There was a sticker on the cover that gave Lunya all the answers to the newly born confusion in her head.

“Y slash N…” Lunya stroked her chin. She didn’t want to look at the cover any longer than she had to and pushed the book down and out of sight, Babycorn didn’t seem to mind, she thought it was fun. 

“Babycorn what did I say about reading books with B’ig Nunh on the cover?”

“Not to…” Babycorn held the book up, trying to use it as a shield between her and Lunya. “But I didn’t read it! Someone else read it for me!” 

Lunya thought she also made sure to tell everyone she could to not read any books with B’ig Nunh on the cover to Babycorn. The mystery of how Babycorn could have read the books wouldn’t stay unsolved for long. 

A sprinkle of green cookie magic started to come down from the ceiling. Until it all came to a head when Airy landed on Babycorn’s head without a care in the world. “Hey.” Airy greeted Lunya in her own callous way. By acting as if Lunya wasn’t even there. 

Of course. “No Babycorn. You are not dating B’ig Nunh.” Lunya didn’t even want to imagine a world where that even had the slightest chance of happening. 

“Are you sure??” Babycorn sniffled. 

“Yes. Very sure!” 

“Really sure????”

Lunya knew where this was going. “I’m. Sure.” No matter how many times Lunya would tell her the opposite of what Babycorn was afraid of, she wouldn’t take her for her word. Even if Babycorn lived by the singular life rule that Lunya knew everything. No matter the topic. “Alright you know what-” 

Lunya grabbed Babycorn’s hand and spun her around towards the outside. She was sure that B’ig Nunh was home and if even she couldn’t convince Babycorn of the obvious, then surely hearing it from the mouth of B’ig Nunh himself would. 

If not then, Lunya would just have to kill him. 

“Woah where are we going Lunya?” Babycorn smiled, her worries of her dating B’ig Nunh had probably blown out of her head by now. 

“We’re going to go find B’ig and talk to him!” Lunya hummed. She of course was just a very normal lalafell and there was absolutely no danger involved in B’ig Nunh talking with Lunya Lanya about this. 

“And you-!” 

Lunya grabbed one of Airy’s wings and tugged on it. “OW?! Watch the wings!” Airy tried to shake herself out of Lunya’s grasp but her struggle was in vain. 

“You’re grounded.

“You’re not even my MOM?!?!”

Regardless, Airy flew all the way back to Babycorn’s room and spent the rest of the day there. Something about Lunya Lanya specifically scared her out of her wits. 

Outside of the mansion B’ig Nunh and Vertical Height were playing fetch with Cherrypit. Throwing cans at him to watch him catch them and eat them. It was enriching for the tiny little normal baby lalafell and also entertaining to watch. 

“okay cherry catch.” Vertical threw a can way up in the air and watched as Cherrypit caught it, biting down on it. “cool.” Cherrypit crunched the can with his very sharp teeth like it was a soft sugar cookie. 

“Again! Again!” Cherrypit cheered. This was way funner to do than whatever b’oring book his sister was reading. 

B’ig Nunh picked up another can from the pile and threw it in his hands. “Alright I’m gonna put all my strength into this one! Get ready!!” Cherrypit showed him how ready he was by running around in a circle very excitedly. 

“Go!” The can flew upwards! Just as B’ig Nunh had warned, it went really high up!

Just as Cherrypit got ready to leap after it, he heard something. It sounded like a door opening. He turned to see the front door of the mansion opening. Out from the inside of the house came Lunya followed by Babycorn, who was practically being dragged outside. “Bebe! Lulu!” Cherrypit cheered and ran over to hug them both.

Which was entirely possible with the way his arms worked. 

Cherrypit extended his arms out wide and grabbed both girls in a great big hug. “Hi Cherry!” Lunya managed to squeeze her arm out and give Cherrypit a little pat on his arm. “Are you having fun with B’ig and Verty?” 

“Yeah yeah!” 

“How much fun?” Babycorn rested her head on Cherrypit’s arm to ask. Cherrypit nodded and stretched out his arms wiiiiide open, dropping both Lunya and Babycorn to the ground. While one of them gently floated to the ground the other fell flat on her face and no I won’t say who did what,  it should be so obvious by now. 

“hey lunya hey babycorn.” Vertical raised her hand to greet her good friends, while still looking up at the sky. 

B’ig Nunh also got ready to say hi to his friends but happened to be stopped right in his tracks by Babycorn running up to him, crying her eyes out. 

If that wasn’t bad enough the next words out of her mouth were almost shocking enough to kill him.

“B’iggy are we dating?” 

Babycorn was sobbing, snot coming out of her nose.It was very dire. 

B’ig Nunh froze like a statue. “What? What? What? What????” His situation was also very dire. “NO???!!! NO WE’RE NOT???”  What kind of question was that?! Where did it come from!? Why was Babycorn asking him this?! 

B’ig resisted the urge to run away and hide because if he did that he couldn’t explain to Babycorn how wrong she was. Then that would lead to her to actually think what she said was true. Which it obviously wasn’t!!

All of this was hitting B’ig Nunh at once like a…like a…

“like a can from the sky?” 

“Well actually I was going to say like a ton of bric-”

Then a can from the sky bumped B’ig Nunh on his lovely moogle cap, right before tumbling to the ground, free for Cherrypit to bite and run off with. His current plan was to bury it in the backyard for later. 

Lunya let B’ig Nunh gather his bearings before talking to him. “See Babycorn? If B’ig Nunh says you’re not dating, then you’re not dating.” There was a very threatening aura around Lunya,  “End of story! 🤗” 

Babycorn looked down at her book. She didn’t understand a single word on the cover or on the back. All she knew was that her good friend B’iggy Nunh was on the cover and he would never lie to her. “But my book said…”

“If a book told you to walk off a bridge would you?” Lunya asked.

“...Well…”

“Babycorn Corn!” 

“No! I wouldn’t!” She was scared of heights! 

Vertical looked down at the book Babycorn was holding in her shivering hands. There was something about it that she recognized. “is that the book that told you you were dating b’ig nunh?” 

Babycorn nodded, tearfully. 

Now Vertical remembered. “i saw b’ig carrying a pile of those books. he said they were advanced copies made to sell later.” Vertical also remembered seeing B’ig Nunh reading one of them from the time she went to bed to when she woke up early the next morning.  

“They’re part of the B’ig Nunh self shipping collection…sniffle…” B’ig Nunh cried, sobbed, whined, all of the above. There were currently around ten books in the collection. They were best sellers for some reason. 

(the reason was that babycorn always bought half the stock. Something nobody but tataru knew yet) 

“Yeah. I figured.” Lunya huffed. “No more reading those kinds of books. Okay Babycorn?” Otherwise they would have to have this conversation more than once and once was already enough for Lunya. 

“Okay…” Babycorn sighed, “Do I also have to not read the other thing too?” 

Everyone was afraid to ask. Especially B’ig Nunh who was basically already dead. 

“what other thing…” Vertical finally decided to ask. 

Babycorn opened the B’ig Nunh takes you to the B’each book and pulled something out, it somehow looked larger than the book itself. “This!” She turned it around and showed her friends the Sexy B’ig Nunh Calendar for the current year she had. It was a costume edition, featuring B’ig Nunh in all sorts of different costumes for the different months!

“woah.” Vertical said while she also noticed B’ig Nunh dissolving into dust and blowing away in the wind. 

Without even taking a second to ask why she had that, Lunya grabbed both the book and the calendar from Babycorn. “NO! You cannot read either!!” She also made sure to grab Babycorn and carried her back to her room with Cherrypit following right behind her. 

“Aww…” Babycorn sadly sighed. 

“Don’t worry Verty! I’ll get the broom and you can sweep up B’ig when I get back!”

“thanks.” Vertical gave a thumbs-up.

[poppy-metal]

POPPY! phone sex with modern eddie 🥺

discord video call late at night, maybe 3-4 am. he always misses you this time of night, thinking about snuggling his cock up against your warm ass and his arms wrapped around your rib cage and he’s just holding you close, trying to make you feel safe.

but you can’t do that tonight :( so you’re resorting to sitting in front of your pc, pulling your pants off and rubbing your clit over his favorite panties while you’re wearing his shirt. and him? whew. he is palming himself in a pair of those pajama pants we wanna see him in so badly, he has his head thrown back blowing out smoke from the blunt in his other hand, moving his head back to watch you, “take em off baby.” you can hear the neediness in his voice. he’s missing your body so badly, all he wants right now is to stuff you full of his cock and breaded you over and over until your legs feel like they’re gonna fall off. you stand up and turn around so your ass is in the camera completely, you can hear him lightly moan at the sight. you bend over slowly and pull them down, then put your hands next to your pussy to pull back so he can see how badly your pretty little hole is needing him, “holy fuck baby”

all eddie ever does is play guitar and think about how he can make you feel good over and over again. he likes to make you cum atleast one more time than the last time you guys had sex, he’s slowly trying to make you into his little fuck machine and you’re completely here for it. you decide to pull out your cute pink little diamond butt plug and lube it up so he can watch you slowly stick it in your ass while bent over your chair, “ahh- fuck. that’s my good girl” and he’s always so proud of you too 🥺🥺🥺 so in love with his dumb little baby’s holes. you sit back down and play with your clit while letting him watch, and he can see your tight little princess cunt trying to grasp around nothing and it’s so :(( you don’t even really notice, all you know is that you’re moaning so loud and hoping you don’t wake your parents, throwing your head back and rolling your eyes, and you’re both reaching your climax soon.

after cum seeped down in between your asshole and onto your chair, your honey hole is fluttering and eddie is just mesmerized by how sexy your body is, he can’t believe he managed to get you to date him. he’s so in love with you and cannot wait to get his hands on you again

(this started off strong then i got tired… sorry i hope it isn’t as bad as i think it is)

no stop because the thought of bending over and holding your asscheeks apart for him so he can see your hole clench and flutter and pucker and you jusr hear the sound of his wet hand moving over his cock. the slick 'shluck, shluck, shluck' of his fist pumping himself hard that you're so familiar with even if you're turned around.

its just so degrading, keeping your hole open on display so your boyfriend can jerk off to it. you make it worse by clenching your hole, so it tightens and opens again and again and when you hear him moan a choked out "oh fuck, baby. love your fucking hole." you feel your cunt weep.

eddie says, "put a pillow under your cunt, want you to rub against it while you keep that ass open for me. wanna see you cum just from spreading your ass." his words are always so dirty, but you love it so much. you do as he says, adjusting the camera on your laptop so he can see, putting a pillow under your needy little pussy so you can hump against it as you reach back around to spread your cheeks.

"god, you're so dirty." he chokes, sounding like hes on the verge of tears with how turned on he is. the wet sound of his hand over his cock is faster and louder now, you think you can hear his balls slapping against his own thighs with how hard hes fucking his fist. just from the sight of your puckered rim and needy pussy. "dirty fuckin girl. I'm gonna fuck you so hard when i see you, gonna put my tongue so deep in your hole, baby- ugh, fuck im gonna cum. oh fuck-"

[cowteapot]

Dad?

Stranger things boys as dads HC

Argyle, Billy Hargrove, Eddie Munsons, Jonathan Byers & Steve Harrington x AFAB!Reader

Summary: super honest headcanons on the boys as dads

Warnings: cursing, substance use, I’m naming the kids so suck it

———————————————————————

-Argyle-

When he found out you were pregnant he was ecstatic, poking your belly and telling it he was the dad

He would eat your weird pregnancy cravings with you

Gets pregnancy pains with you

You two got your own little loft above some really nice old people but usually spend your time at the wheeler house

At the first ultrasound he pointed at his baby and said “that’s my little homie right there!” And then tried to fist pump your belly but you slapped his hands away

When your son was born he held him up to his friends like he was in the lion king and exclaimed “Baby Everest has been birthed!”

You made him give the baby back after that

He loves your little after birth diaper, thinks it’s so cute and so funny as you waddle around the house in it

Likes taking Everest on hikes and shit

Definitely football carries him

You don’t have a nursery but you do have a crib next to your bed but whenever Everest starts screaming Argyle lays him down in between the two of you and lets him sleep there

If you give Everest snacks Argyle is definitely going to be asking where his are

“Here baby. Cookie” “y/n I want one, y/n hey. I want a cookie, gimmie”

Everest sleeps in your bed for five years but argyle wouldn’t have it any other way

Literally cried more than Everest did when he moved on to his own bed

Loves to wrap Everest in a little blanket sling strapped to his chest or back and run around the house listening to his little giggles

Thinks he’s got the funniest kid ever. You came home one day to see them both sitting on the couch reading a book just giggling away as Everest mumbled out some toddler words you didn’t really understand but it got argyle belly laughing

Talks to Everest like he’s an adult even if he doesn’t understand what he’s saying

Likes to have in depth intellectual conversations with your son after he smokes

Is always loosing shit “where’s his shoes?” “Shiiiiiit. Left em at the park!”

He’s always getting getting his hair tugged on and ripped out by Everest

Literally does pizza runs with the baby strapped to his chest or with the car seat in the passenger seat

By two Everest was answering the phones at Surfer Boys

Chillest dad ever, your kid wants to wear a dress? Who cares Argyle wants one too

He tires not to smoke around Everest so he’ll walk down the street to smoke and walk home before dumping cologne on his body and coming inside

You breast fed (if you can) for a long time and every time argyle gets super excited to see ya boobies

At first he didn’t know you were supposed to strap in the car seat so when he turned a corner and Everest went flying he learned quickly

-Billy-

He’s a deadbeat dad and you can’t even lie to yourself

He’s always wanted kids but when he finally gets them he regrets everything

Teen pregnancy for sure

He tried to run when you told him you were pregnant but he knew his did would just drag him back to your house and make him apologize and then kick his ass right there on the doorstep

Not really there throughout your pregnancy, like if you ask for snacks at two am he’ll roll over in bed away from you and then mumble out “go to the store then.”

When you went into Labor he almost shit himself, he was sitting in Chem when the principle pull him up to the office and explained you had gone into a labor and he was needed at the hospital. Billy stopped at the gas station and got himself snacks before going in.

The nurses asked if he wanted to cut the umbilical cord but he simply shook his head and said “nah.” You rightfully so were pissed.

They handed him his son and he nearly passed out, all of the shit he put you threw during your pregnancy suddenly flew away from him because seeing the little boy with eyes like his before him made all of this real. He was a dad.

He will not wake up with the baby. Don’t even try to make him. He’ll even have the audacity in the morning to say “I slept like shit last night” even if you’re sitting at the dining table with messy hair, bags under your eyes, tear stained cheeks, baby puke and shit all over your clothes with the culprit attached to your boob

Definitely leaves the kid in the car kinda dad. Like he’s stopping at the gas station and he’ll turn around to make sure little Nick is asleep before he gets out and goes in to grab a six pack and some cigarettes. Then he’ll get home and you’ll ask “where’s the formula?” And this asshole will go “in your boob”

As your son gets older billy will start to be a slightly better dad. Sometimes going and playing monster trucks on the living room floor but obviously you’ll have to pick them up and put them away after

Bug juice dad. Stops at the gas station to get a pack of smokes and let’s Nick grab a bug juice that will stain his teeth and clothes

I imagine you coming home after work one day to billy sprawled out on the sofa watching a football game as you walk around the small trailer looking for your son before giving up and asking “Bill. Where’s Nick?” He up in a flash, grabbing his keys and running out the door with a “shit!” This isn’t the first or last time he’s forgotten to pick him up from school

Flirts with all of the PTA moms

Type of dad to teach his kids to swim by saying “you either sink or swim” and then chucking Nick into the water as you scream at him to grab him. He’ll pull him up right before he passes out, give him a breather and then throw him again. Parents will start to gather around with worried expressions as you beg your boyfriend to stop. Nick wouldn’t talk to him for a whole day.

Offers Nick beer by the ripe age or 10

I see billy getting a fast pass to the retirement home

-Eddie-

He’s scared shitless when you tell him you’re pregnant

Throws away all of the beer, cigarettes and completely stops selling drugs

Makes extra room in Wayne’s trailer for you and the baby

Boy will get a steady job and save up for your own trailer which you guys get around your eighth month of pregnancy

You come home one day to see Eddie with his hair pulled up in a messy ponytail, no shirt and a pair of jean cutoffs with paint all over his hands and face as he instructs you to close your eyes. He’ll guide you into the make shift nursery that is now painted a beautiful lavender color with a little black crib pressed against the wall with a mobile above it displaying the planets. He decorated the walls with little paper bats and shelves lined with books and toys along with photos of the two of you and the multiple ultrasound photos

The day your daughter is born is the best day of his life, he holds her while sobbing. He cries even harder when she grasps onto the tips of his hair. He whispered against her smooth skin about how he would always be there for her and he would keep her safe

Unlike Billy he is up with the baby all night in a heartbeat, you’ll walk in in the morning to find his lanky limbs thrown over the sides of the crib with Ramona on his chest. To say he’s sore is an understatement

Boy will throw on one of those baby harnesses in a second and will walk around with that girl strapped to his chest all day

The first diaper change he couldn’t stop gagging, the two of you laughing so hard as he tried to wipe the little girls butt but every time he got close he would gag so loud. By the end of it he had tears in his eyes along with a red sweaty face

Tried to force her first words to be daddy or dada but it’s “bug” after she saw a spider on the floor. He still celebrated

First steps are on film and he watches them over and over when he’s sad

The first day of school is so hard for him, he packs her bag and checks it three times over. He makes sure her outfit is comfy and that she has a list of the home phone number, uncle Wayne’s number, the neighbors number, uncle Steve’s number, mommy’s work number and daddy’s work number. He has her bag packed with all her school supplies and her favorite teddy along with bandaids

If she rips her favorite teddy he will stay up all night looking through sewing manuals trying to stitch the limb back on

When she learns to tie her shoes he’s taking her out to ice cream and having her tie his shoes

He’s so bad at discipline. Ramona colored all over the walls and you decided that she would have to wipe them down but when you came in to check on her Eddie was wiping them down as she sat on the floor playing with dolls

He’s not religious but for the living nativity scene that the church does he’ll sign up your beautiful baby girl just to see all those prissy moms faces when the freak Eddie Munson pulls up with his beautiful little baby Jesus because it also means eddie gets to play Joseph

-Jonathan-

“I’m pregnant”

He sat completely still in the bed for almost two minutes before yelling out “in this economy?!”

Tells argyle before Joyce or Will

Joyce was pissed but didn’t last ver long when she got excited to be a grandma

You two move into the Byers house

Will is extremely helpful during your pregnancy, offering to make you lunch and get you snacks

Jonathan likes to cuddle with your belly, whispering things to the baby inside

Unlike Eddie he doesn’t give up smoking weed but he will try to reduce his use

Argyle is basically a second dad to this kid

Joyce had to drive you two to the hospital because Jonathan was high and you obviously were in pain

Labor was FOREVER and Jonathan took a few photos and took a nap but woke up for the actual birth

Let’s be honest he’s a king so when you inevitably shit yourself so much during labor he didn’t say a word, just held your hand and told you how amazing you were

Joyce and Will stayed in the hospital with you guys

You welcomed your baby girl Ruth who Jonathan fell so deeply in love with

He took photo after photo of her and you, he told you how wonderful you did and you beautiful you looked

He played guitar to her when she couldn’t sleep and took wonderful care of the both of you

You guys sing Danny’s Song by Loggins and Messina as a lullaby

Joyce and Will are the best helpers ever, they both will wake up in the night if she’s up screaming her head off and you both are just way to tired to even hear it

You will never have to worry about finding a baby sitter

Ruth was holding her own camera by two and he loves developing the photos, just the idea of seeing life through his toddlers eyes almost made him cry

Hates strollers, would rather carry her around. The idea of trying to open this thing and click it’s wheels into spot and getting her in and trying to clip it just made him angry

If Ruth gets hurt and starts screaming he definitely is the type of dad to start screaming too. “Y/N! She’s bleeding, HELP” you have to calm them both

You two brought her in late on the first day of school, you slept in and then tried to feed her breakfast but found out the milk was bad and there was nothing else to make so you left with a piece of white bread. She had two different shoes on and her outfit didn’t match but hey you were two young tired parents

He’s a fun dad. Likes to take her to the beach and look for rocks, collect bugs and dig in the sand. Runs around the house playing make believe and will get so into character, they’re always jumping on the couches and screaming even after Joyce screamed at them to stop

He makes holidays extra special, everything is over the top. He’s definitely one of those parents that throws and entire birthday party for Ruth’s first birthday and you tried so hard to tell him that she won’t remember it but he doesn’t care

- Steve-

We all know he wants a damn herd of children

When he finds out you’re pregnant this man is over the moon! You’re up in his arms as he dances around screaming about how he’s gonna be a dad

The nursery is up and running in a matter of no time, he’s got a mural going, the walls are painted, fun carpets and decor. He’s so excited

Every time he goes to the store he’s picking out some article of clothing for your unborn child and he always justifies it

He cried to hard while you were in labor and cried even harder when the nurse handed him his son. Mans was ugly crying and mumbling about how cute he was

He almost passed out when they handed him another little boy saying you had twins

You will not have to move a muscle because he’s got it all. Kids screaming? Dads up and running. He’s got toys, tummy time,diaper changing but when it’s time for food he’s bringing the babies to you going “boobie time!”

You have to tell him to stop staring while you’re breast feeding

By three months he’s already asking for another

Your sons have Steve wrapped around their little fingers

He’s a sports dad, this man is loading up the car with equipment and taking them to every game

Minivan.

There has been more baseballs and rocks through the windows of the house than he’d like to admit

Cried more than the kids on the first day of school

He’s also a fun dad but in the sense that his kids will never be wrong. Ever.

“Zack threw a rock at Matthews head!”

“Well what did Matt do?”

He will never admit to being overwhelmed even when Steve “the hair” Harringtons hair is frizzy and covered in a hat with two toddlers hanging off of each arm screaming in the middle of the grocery store

Steve will also never admit that you have terror twins

I am genuinely so sorry but their backpack leash kids

“Oh fuck off!” Steve will groan at the parents who glare and shake their heads at the man with two leashes in his hand as the children connected drag him along screaming and growling

He smiles at you when you come home to find him tied up to a chair with two toddlers beating the shit outta him with foam noodles

“What’s this?”

“we captured dad!”

If he admits that having two kids is difficult that means he can’t convince you to have more

The two of you have sat in the bathroom eating candy just hiding from the kids

At the end of a long day filled with chasing toddlers around, catching objects flying through the air, apologizing to everyone who you come in contact with for your feral children, stoping fights and wiping tears from a breakdown that may have been you two or the children you both will flop down on the sofa and stare off into existence

“You have food in your hair” “leave it.”

[dragondemoness]

Hi! Can you do kyoko kirigiri, mukuro ikusaba and hiyoko saionji confessiing their love to male reserve course s/o who is their childhood friend

Hello! Yes, I absolutely can :3

Kyoko, Mukuro and Hiyoko Confessing Their Love to Male Childhood Friend Reader

Kyoko Kirigiri 

If you're Kyoko's childhood friend, you know everything

Her family, her secrets, who she was before she was trained to hide her emotions

She was much more emotional and energetic back then

You always played together and hung out together

But when her father left, everything changed

She was so hurt, so alone

You were there, hugging her and offering words of comfort

And she clung onto you and cried into your shoulder

You were the only one she trusted, even then

Even if her grandfather taught her to hide her emotions, she still trusted you with them

Whenever she needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to vent to, she always came to you, no hesitation

She was so happy when you were accepted into Hope's Peak together

Who cares if you don't have a talent? 

You've been with her since day one, and that's all that matters

And after a while, she begins developing warm feelings towards you

She tries to push them down at first

You're her best friend, she's not supposed to feel that way towards you

These emotions are so complicated, she starts avoiding you

Once you confront her, she finally spills her feelings to you

It catches you off guard, but you accept her confession regardless

She smiles and takes your hand in her gloved one

She looks forward to starting a future with you

Mukuro Ikusaba 

Once again, you know everything

Particularly her and her sister

You were actually friends with the both of them, but you and Mukuro had a special bond

You defended her from anything and anyone, even her sister

You did have some problems with Junko, but you tried not to make it obvious

The three of you were separated for a long while, but you and Mukuro kept in touch

She was so freaking happy when you reunited at Hope's Peak

She also doesn't care if you're in the Reserve Course, you're still her friend, and that's what's important

Even in a non-despair situation, Junko still liked to mess with her

But at the very least, it was more playful than when you were kids

The three of you still hung out, but Mukuro always seemed distant

One day, you were at a coffee shop together, when Mukuro suddenly had to leave for an after school activity

Junko leaned in close to you with a smirk on her face and said, "You know she likes you, right?"

You just blinked at her

"What?"

She scoffed at you

"Oh, please! It's so obvious! He was never good at keeping secrets, even when we were kids!"

And you were just like "oh shit"

Junko noticed this and grabbed your shoulders

"C'mon, go confess! You like her too, right?"

You nodded

"Then go get 'em! You can do it!"

You gulped nervously and left the coffee shop to find Mukuro

There she was, practicing archery outside

You noticed Junko hiding behind a tree, and she grinned widely and gave you a thumbs up

Taking a breath in, you prepared your confession

Mukuro was caught off guard, but overjoyed regardless

She hugs you and then you share a kiss

After pulling away, you smile at each other

Junko is watching from behind the tree, squealing and fist-pumping the air

Hiyoko Saionji 

You were there for her through the tough times

Her family put constant pressures on her, her family being threatened, and even more so, suffering threats and cruel pranks

She had a very hard time during her childhood, and she always came to you when she needed you

The only other person who treated her nicely was her father, who you got along with really well

You loved to watch her dance, and you were her number one fan besides her father

But then she was taken away from her grandmother, and you two were separated for a while

But when you reunited at Hope's Peak, she was overjoyed

She did tease you a little about being in the Reserve Course, but she wasn't mean about it

It didn't take long for her feelings to surface

She acts like a big tsundere about it

But once you corner her, she spills everything

And once you accept her confession, she happily leaps into your arms, and you pick her up and spin her around a little 

Her happy giggles warm your heart

[duskholland]

under the desk || prof!tom smut

professor holland has a special assignment for you...

wc ↠ 3k. warnings ↠ nsfw 18+ content. bj under the table, (unseen) exhibitionism, dom!tom/sub!reader, sir/good girl kink, a lot of praise, fingering, slight degradation, pinching, minor pain kink. messy rough against-the-table unprotected sex (please practice safe sex!!!). I don’t condone this form of relationship irl! be safe. a/n ↠ you know i had to do it to ‘em. thanks @darlingspidey​ for coming into my askbox and choosing violence. minors dni or you will be blocked!!!!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“You want me to what?”

The smirk on Professor Holland’s face is unmoving as he folds his arms across his chest. The tight sleeves of his suit bulge to accommodate the curves of his biceps, and you find yourself biting your lower lip despite his shocking proposition.

“I want you to get on your knees and suck my cock for the entire lesson, darling. I don’t understand why this is so difficult for you to understand. Thought you were my smart girl, eh?” He brings two slender fingers to your cheek, running calloused fingertips down to your chin. As Tom angles your face to look at him, his eyes hold nothing but dominance.

“But… What if someone sees?”

Tom is still caressing your face, and you feel yourself ease as he pushes his thumb into your mouth. He steps closer, caging you in until the backs of your thighs press into the hard line of his desk. As his warm breath fans out across your face, you shiver.

“No one will see,” he tells you, accent thick. His South London twang always comes out more prominently in times like these. “We’re too far at the front.” He brings his other hand to your waist, squeezing your flesh with a rough touch that makes you moan around his thumb. “Promise I’ll make it up to you, love,” he adds, voice a blend of sultry tones. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

When he swaps out his thumb for his index and middle fingers, you instinctively lap around the pads of his fingertips. Tom just smirks, knowing he has you right in the palm of his hand. You’ve done risky things with your professor before, but to hide beneath his desk and suck him off for an hour..? It sounds like torture. Yet, with the way his eyes twinkle so seductively, you find yourself leaning into it. You’ve always been a bit of a sadist, anyway, and it’d be hard to disagree with him when he looks like this—brown hair slicked back, face glowing with health, deep eyes like pools of honey.

Tom pulls his fingers from your mouth, but before you can complain about their absence, he brings them down between your legs. You’re already bare beneath the skirt—he’d spent a memorable five minutes ghosting his mouth over the front of your panties before ripping them off and devouring your aching slit with his tongue. You’re still wet now, your cunt cooled by the mix of his saliva and your arousal that slicks your thighs. Tom coos as he presses his fingers into your hole.

“Sir,” you whimper, reaching back to grab at the desk. You’re running hot, skin prickling with need. Your nipples press against the front of your shirt, aching and straining, moving with each heavy heave of your chest. As Tom curves his fingers and quickly finds your g-spot, your breath hitches in the back of your throat.

“You’re so wet, darling,” he murmurs thickly. Tom steps closer, thin lips biting at your neck as you whimper. He doesn’t need to be careful about leaving marks—both of you know the only person who will see you for the next hour will be him. “You want it, don’t you? You want to do this for me. You want to have my cock down your throat as everyone else sits up there, completely unaware of what you’re doing.”

You toss your head back, inching closer to a high that he’s only been denying you. “Yes,” you gasp out, knowing he’s right, knowing you can already feel the ache in your knees from the lecture hall’s carpet. “I want it.”

“Good girl.” Tom kisses your cheek before stepping back, his hand disappearing from between your legs. He ignores your whine of disappointment as he flops down into his desk chair, his thighs parting as he lazily unpicks his belt. He raises a brow towards you until you slowly sink to your knees, crawling between his legs and sitting at his feet obediently. The humiliation burns into lust as he strokes a hand over your cheek, eyes full of adoring arousal. “Such a good little thing, aren’t you?”

Your eyes widen as you see him pull his cock free, his length full-mast and his tip weeping. Without thought, you find yourself licking your lips. You sit forward, eagerly looking up to him and shivering as you take in the lust swirling in his eyes.

“Please, Professor,” you ask, voice hoarse. “Can I suck you off now?”

He melts like a candle to a flame, cooing as he nods softly and brings both hands to hold the back of your head. “Yeah, baby,” he murmurs. “Don’t make me cum. You can touch yourself if you really can’t control yourself, but you better not even think about cumming.”

Once he’s finished outlining his demands, you nod. Tom scoots closer, the chair all the way beneath the desk now and obscuring his face. It’s dark down here, but you can make out enough—his watch-clad wrist, laying back on his thigh, the outline of his cock. With the hand still on your cheek, Tom coaxes you forward, a throaty groan leaving his mouth as you finally part your lips and take him.

The stretch of your mouth is familiar and needed, and you find yourself moaning a little as your lips part to take him. Tom’s heavy on your tongue, and you tease your tip over his slit to gather the white beads of precum. As his taste seeps over you, you whine, and the sound thickens when Tom roughly pushes you further down.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, lazy voice drifting down from above the desk. “Just like that. Keep that going. Mouth feels like fuckin’ heaven, darling. Such a good girl. So obedient.”

You hum in response, and slowly start to bob your head. You have an hour to kill, so you don’t go too fast, setting the speed gradually as he flexes the fingers on his thigh into a fist and holds your face with harsh fingers. The bite of the pain against your skin as he presses his index and middle fingers together just makes your arousal worse.

“People are about to come in,” he adds, voice low. “If you want to stop, just squeeze my hand, yeah?” When you moan in agreement, Tom hums. “Good girl.”

The noise in the lecture hall is quick to build as the clock approaches the hour. You stay beneath the table, your knees starting to hurt from the bend, but you like it. As Tom starts to present his lecture, you settle into a rhythm beneath him. You rest one hand on his knee for balance and keep the other between your legs, slowly playing with your sensitive bud as your mouth stays on his cock. You alternate between kitten-licking his messy tip and deep-throating him, concentrating immensely when you loosen your throat every time you press in closer.

Each time you push particularly deep, your nose ends up buried in the curly spring of hair above his pubic bone. Whenever that happens, Tom ends up losing his train of thought, stammering over his words as he pinches your cheek a little tighter. You keep it rare, only occasionally disrupting his flow, knowing better than to try and embarrass him in front of so many people. That’s not your objective, anyway.

Time loses meaning after a while, with everything fading that isn’t Tom. Tom—with his hand on your cheek, his legs warm against your front, his cock in your mouth. There’s a thick trail of saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth and your eyes sting with tears. Small wet noises occasionally rise from your mouth as your lips pull away from his cock, and they mix with the noises of your fingers between your legs. You alternate between fucking yourself and teasing your clit, only toying, knowing nothing will come of your actions until he’s finished his class. You shift slightly from leg to leg, and the jostling makes you strike your g-spot just right.

Your teeth sink into your lower lip as your mouth falls away from him, your eyelids fluttering shut as you feel the edge approach. You don’t want to cum, but it feels too good to stop. As you wrestle with the desire to give in and add another finger to your clit, Tom clears his throat.

“—Let me just grab something from my bag,” Professor Holland speaks, voice eloquent and clear. He bends over, his hands leaving you as he pretends to rummage your bag.

Tom looks at you, raising a brow in question as his eyes meet with yours. He doesn’t say a thing, still with a microphone clipped to the front of his suit, but his piercing dark eyes say it all:

I didn’t say you could stop.

He continues to look at you as you hasten to sit forward, tender knees digging further into the carpet as you take his cock back between your lips. You moan softly to show your appreciation, feeling more spit fall down your wet chin as you take him deeply. Tom’s lips soften, an expression of enjoyment briefly fluttering across his face before he reaches out to pat your cheek softly. He pulls up a moment later, procuring a blank piece of paper from his bag at the last moment.

You wonder if he’ll give you a second one-on-one lesson to catch you up on all the content that you’ve missed.

For the last part of the class, you focus primarily on him. Professor Holland weaves his hand into your hair and guides you, calling the shots as he pulls you deeper whenever he desires. You end up adding in your hand, using your fingers to pump the top of his length and paying attention to his thick girth as you pump him. Tom gets tetchy, his hips softly rising up to meet your movements every time you work him deeper. You can almost hear the relief in his voice as he utters, finally,

“That’s it, everyone. Thanks for your time. I’ll see you all next week. If anybody has any questions, my office hours can be found online.”

Tom strokes his fingers through your hair as you listen to the babble of noise rise again. There’s the sounds of laptops closing, bags zipping, people trudging down the stairs of the theatre. You take him all the way, his tip brushing up against the back of your throat. Your lips ache, and your tongue feels numb as your nose brushes up against his warm skin. He makes you wait a very long time, your mind running wild, mouth salivating as you stay still and hold him on your tongue, shivering in anticipation. The slick between your legs is just as persistent as it was an hour ago, and you can feel your needy hole clenching around nothing as your fingers slowly stroke your clit.

“Fucking finally,” Tom mutters. A moment later, he grabs you by the hair and quickly pulls you off, your lips releasing his cock with a pop. He scoots the chair back and jerks you forward, a few tears falling down your cheeks as your eyes struggle to readjust to the bright lighting of the room. “Oh, darling... You’re all messy.”

He easily hauls you up to your feet, but you don’t need to linger on your wobbly legs for too long before he’s pushing you up and onto his desk. Tom drops down, briefly bending over to kiss both of your knees before giving you his full, undivided attention. His hands go to your face, nimble fingers taking care of the tear tracks and the mess of drool and precum sticking to your chin. Your cheeks feel hot as he tuts his tongue and inspects you, his cock pressing up against your lower body as he steps closer.

“You did such a good job,” he adds, soothingly. His lips come down over your forehead. “Sucked my cock so well, sweetheart. Felt so good.”

You smirk softly, parting your legs and leaning back. You dig your elbows into the cool wood of his desk, looking up at his face and enjoying Tom’s gaze on your figure. His hands go down to your skirt, and he flips it up, fingers gravitating to your slit.

“Please, sir,” you manage, voice slightly hoarse, words slurring. “Please fuck me? I need you.”

Tom chuckles. He wraps his hand around his length and guides it to your slit, the hard pressure of his cock making you whimper when he presses his tip to your clit. Anticipation swirls in the pit of your stomach, and you cry out as he nudges his bulbous head against your clit.

“Well… I did say I’d reward you, didn’t I?” he teases. Tom shifts his cock down to your entrance, and you buck your hips, trying desperately to entice him into your pulsing hole. “Patient, my darling. Tell me how badly you want me.”

His ego pushes forward, its presence heightened by the cocky eyebrow he raises at you. You clench your fingers into fists, too far gone to be above begging and both of you know it.

“Please, sir,” you whimper, tossing your head back as he continues to apply a teasing pressure to your weeping cunt. “Been so good for you, sir. Waited all lesson for you. Didn’t even cum.” Your voice is broken, weighing heavy with arousal. “Please fuck me. I need it. I need you—”

Before you can finish, Tom sinks into you, your flushed walls parting easily. You feel your cunt flutter as it envelopes his length completely, Professor Holland not waiting a second to start pounding into you. You cry out loudly, jaw slack and hanging open as pleasure sails across you, filling every part of you to the brim. Tom grabs at your thighs, pulling you nearer and using his grip on your soft flesh as leverage to keep you wrapped around him. Slapping sounds fill the air as he rocks into you, his crotch meeting your centre every time as you cry out.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, eyes fluttering shut. “Fits like a glove. So wet, darling. Such a tight fuckin’ pussy.”

You can’t speak, so you let out a breathless whine in response which earns you a tight chuckle from Tom.

“Mmm, too good to speak, isn’t it?” he teases. He drops a hand down to your clit and your back arches off the table as he starts to rub feverish circles to the bud. “God… Such a good girl. Taking me so well, like you were born to do this. That’s right, isn’t it? Snug pussy made just for me.”

He hits every spot exactly like you crave, cock filling you completely. You’ve been edged and teased for so long that the slightest touch would be enough to set you off, and it’s as if your body doesn’t know how to process such an onslaught of sudden sensations. With every rut of his hips against yours, you get closer, his member catching slickly against your walls in the most delicious ways. As Tom’s fingers continue to wrangle your clit, your vision blurs with tears of enjoyment.

“Gonna cum,” you manage, voice thick. You’re shaking, writhing on the table, and if he wasn’t gripping your thighs so firmly, you know you’d be trying to move away from such an intense source of pleasure. It’s overwhelming, but you crave it, and when Tom drops his head down to suck at your neck, you cry out.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he groans, voice hoarse against your ear. “Let go. Let me feel how snug this cunt gets for me, darling. Want you to make me cum.”

Your legs clamp around his back as you finally spin over the edge, your eyes rolling into your head as your back falls against the desk. Your climax sweeps over you, blending with your moans and Tom’s low grunts as he picks up his pace and thrusts faster. Your eyes find the point at which your bodies converge, and the sight of his cock pounding into you only extends your enjoyment.

He follows suit a few moments after you, spilling into you with a loud cry of your name. As his lips speak such a familiar word, the inflexion makes you clench, your pussy constricting around his cock and causing Tom to groan louder. He doesn’t stop railing you into the desk until both of you are spent, at which point he pulls away and leans up to connect your lips.

A smile spreads across your lips as Tom kisses you, his mouth infinitely more gentle than he’s been with his hands. You sit up to meet him, your legs shaking against the desk. As you loop your arms around his neck and sink into his lips, he continues to kiss you, breaking up his long snog into a series of lighter pecks.

“Did so good for me, my darling,” Tom mumbles against you. He’s stroking your back with a warm hand, his breathing ragged but slowly recovering. When he pulls back, he stays near, the tip of his nose pressing to yours. “Are you okay?”

You hum softly, shivering a little when Tom kisses the tip of your nose. “Perfect,” you reply. “Bit thirsty, though.”

He frowns, the expression darkening his face. Tom leans closer to kiss your sore cheek, lips lingering there for a few moments as he hums.

“Let’s go,” he suggests. “I’ll take you home. Run you a bath, make you some tea. I’ll look after my girl.”

You pout softly, your heart clenching. “Okay,” you reply. He helps you down from the desk, his hands quickly curling around your waist when your knees threaten to buckle. As he chuckles, you shoot him a glare. “Don’t laugh at me,” you whine. “It’s your fault I’m like this!”

Tom nuzzles his nose to yours as he plants a final kiss to your lips. “Mm, I know,” he growls. “I’ll repay the favour later.”

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Two Years and Counting

Pairings | Bucky Barnes x f!reader, Steve Rogers x f!reader, Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Warnings | swearing, dirty talk, smut, mm smut, anal fingering, anal sex, vaginal sex, oral (m and f receiving), slight degradation, kinda dub-con at one point but not really?, implied pregnancy, unprotected sex, sort of breeding kink I think,

Word count | 3.2k

Summary | Steve gets Bucky a present for their second wedding anniversary: you and a little something extra

A/n | so loads of people wanted more Stucky x reader...here you go

Masterlist

"So you want me to...sleep with you? Both of you?" You reiterated what Steve had just asked you, and the blonde man nodded.

"If you don't want to, please don't feel pressured to accept. It's just- we're very open, and Buck's been sayin' for a while how much he adores you." Steve admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. "And I more than agree with him." Steve added quickly after, a smile spreading over his perfect lips.

So that's how you ended up here, your back pressed you Steve's chest, his lips at your ear and a cerulean-eyed super soldier lapping relentlessly at your core.

"That's it, Buck, right there. I want your face to be shiny with her cum by the time you've finished." Steve cooed, voice thick and heavy with lust as his teeth nipped playfully at your earlobe.

You couldn't take your eyes away from the sight between your legs; the brunet super soldier's head buried between your thighs as he relentlessly lapped at your clit. A sharp gasp accompanied your fluttering eyelids when Bucky placed a finger at your entrance, slowly pushing it inside you.

"You like his tongue, hm? Those fingers feel real good, don't they?" Steve purred at your ear again, breath hot on your skin as your head dropped back into his shoulder.

Your legs were pulled painfully wide over his knees, hips aching from the stretch as his firm arms looped around you: one at your waist and the other over your chest, pinning you to him with the ghost of a choke around your neck.

"Wait 'til you see what his cock can do, sweetheart. You won't be walking tomorrow by the time we're done with you." Steve smirked, but you were so far gone by this point the words barely graced your senses.

"Fuck!" You squealed, Bucky's teeth giving a little nip to your clit as your back arched away from Steve's chest. The man chuckled, bringing his tongue down and tracing your slit before pushing in.

With his tongue stroking your walls and his nose bumping up against your clit, it didn't take long for Bucky to make you cum. Steve's large hand still rested against your throat as you came down from your high, his plump lips pressing wet kisses behind your ear.

"You good, doll?" Bucky bummed, hands resting heavily on your thighs, rubbing up and down soothingly. You nodded, a dopey smile crossing your lips as you were brought back to reality. Bucky chuckled again, low and melodic as Steve's voice filled your ears.

"Maybe we should give the dame a break...get on the bed, Buck. I want you naked and on your back." You never would be thought Steve to be so controlling in the bedroom. Sure, he barked orders all day long but you'd always assumed that he'd want to let go for a while. That and you'd always thought Bucky gave you raging Dom vibes.

Bucky was quick to comply, kneeling up and pressing a quick peck to your cheek and then Steve's lips before he was scrambling over to the bed, tearing his clothes off on the way.

Steve helped you up, setting you down on the bed beside Bucky and pressing and lingering kiss to your forehead. He offered you a quick, small smile before his attention was on Bucky.

Steve's lips spread wider when he saw the bottle of lube in Bucky's hand, the blonde's own hand moving up to brush the hair out of his husband's face.

"You're such good boy for me, baby. Now let's get you nice and open, hm?" Steve cooed, leaning down for a kiss. You expected it to be sweet, and it was anything but that. The kiss was almost nasty, with tongues mingling and teeth clashing.

Steve grabbed the bottle of lube from Bucky when he pulled away, slowly kissing down the man's body. Bucky whined - like actually whined - as Steve took his time, taking a moment to let his tongue smooth over one of Bucky's nipples before moving on.

When he reached his cock - which you hadn't let yourself look at until now - Steve took the swollen and leaking tip in his mouth, suckling lightly and causing Bucky's hips to jerk up.

"Please, Stevie! Just - just fuck me already!" Bucky whined, hips wriggling as Steve tried to hold him still. A whimper bled through Bucky's lips when Steve's hand came down on his thing in a small slap.

"Don't tell me what to do. You'll take what I give you." Steve's voice was suddenly stern; it was his Captain America voice. Bucky whined, but settled down, his head tilted up as he watched his husband with hooded eyes.

Steve hummed to himself, leaving a trail of wet kisses down the length of Bucky's cock until he reached the base. It was then that he pulled away, nimble fingers flipping the cap off the lube and squirting a generous amount onto the fingers of his other hand.

"Relax for me, Buck." Steve mumbled, his free hand coaxing Bucky's thighs a little wider until he could clearly see the man's tight rim. You watched without blinking as Steve's pink tongue ran over his lips, his eyes solely focused on the sight between the older man's legs.

He circled Bucky's tight hole with the tips of his fingers, a smirk gracing his lips when an breathy moan slipped through Bucky's slightly parted lips.

"That's it." Steve was pushing a finger in then, slow and controlled and the digit worked itself passed the resisting muscle. "Good boy." Steve's voice was a low purr, wrist rolling to make Bucky moan as his fingertip glided over his prostate.

Bucky could already see stars, and he'd barley begun. You watched intently, feeling yourself get even wetter as you watched the way Steve played Bucky's body like an instrument he'd mastered over years of practice. And, in a way, Steve had.

Two years into their marriage and both boys knew each other inside out, the ways their body's worked and responded committed to memory. Your bottom lip found itself tucked between your teeth, hands pushing you up so you could get a better view.

Bucky's head was thrown back now, eyes disappearing into his skull and Steve rolled his wrist a little faster. The sight was heavenly, hair falling into his face and mouth parted as Bucky attempted not to squirm, his hands fisted so tightly into the sheets they looked as if they may rip.

"Do you want to try?" It was Steve's voice again, real soft and tempting as he peered up at you through thick lashed. You swallowed thickly, blinking away the sight of Bucky as you directed your gaze to the blonde.

"Huh?" Your voice was probably timid, arguably sheepish as the sound of question formed on your tongue.

"Would you like a go? At fingering him?" Steve repeated, a gently charming look in his blue eyes. You gulped, but ultimately nodded as the words in your mouth seemed to dry up. Steve offered a wide smile, slowly slipping his finger from Bucky - the resulting whimper making Steve chuckle - before moving to the side to give you some room.

"I- I don't know what I'm doing." You admitted as you placed yourself between Bucky's legs, hands on your thighs as your eyes slid over the sight before you. Steve breathed something of a laugh, leaning in close and picking up your right hand with his.

"I'll tell you how." Steve murmured near your ear, his other hand quick to pick up the bottle of lube again before squirting a good amount onto your fingers. "You need 'em nice and wet, it feels much nicer when they can slide right in." Steve explained, rubbing the substance around your skin to make sure they were saturated enough.

"Then what?" You breathed, unable to tear your eyes from the beautiful sight before you. Steve smiled, guiding your fingers to Bucky's little hole. Once the tip of your middle finger was lined up, Steve urged you to being pushing in. It met a bit of resistance, but the muscle quickly gave way again and your finger slid in fairly smoothly after that. Bucky moaned, long and loud.

"That feel good, huh? Does she feel good?" Steve cooed at Bucky, who could only seem to muster a nod as you begin to roll your wrist, just as Steve had. "That's it, take it real slow. You can build up the speed a little more in a moment." Steve mumbled beside you, eyes alight with lust.

"Can I- can I add another finger?" You tentatively asked, giving Steve a nervous glance.

"Yes, I think he's ready. Are you ready, Buck?" Steve replied, looking up at his husband.

"Yes! Feels s' good, so so good!" Bucky moaned, attempting to squirm but Steve placed a firm hand on his hip and tutted.

"Ask nicely." Steve chided, that hint of harshness back to his tone. You couldn't help but think that having sex with Steve would give you whiplash with how quickly his tone could change.

"Please can I have another finger? It feels real good!" Bucky stuttered out through breathy moans and whimpers. Steve smiled coyly, nodding to you when you gave him a look in question.

You let Steve squirt some more lube onto your index finger before pushing it in along side your middle one, a pang of arousal clenching your gut and the completely debauched sound that it pulled from the writhing super soldier.

"Good girl." Steve murmured near your ear, his eyes glued to your fingers slowly pumping in and out of Bucky's tight hole. "Why don't you give his pretty little cock a kiss, huh? It looks a little needy." Steve purred, eyes sliding over the swollen tip of Bucky's cock.

You nodded, wetting your lips with your tongue as you leant forwards. Buck's back arched so high you thought you could fit a goddamn pillow under there when your lips brushed the head of his cock, precum smearing over them.

"That's it. You gettin' close now, baby?" Steve cooed and Bucky whined. You let your tongue lap at his skin, Bucky's musk coating your tastebuds as you felt the warmth of him against you.

Steve hovered over you, his hand now palming at his own dick through his jeans as he watched you pleasuring his husband.

"Curl your fingers a little, doll. You'll know when you find the spot." So you did, and you definitely hit the 'spot'. Your fingers pressed into Bucky's prostate, pulling an dirty moan from the man as his back arched even higher and the sheets actually ripped in his hands.

"S-should I keep going?" You mumbled nervously, pulling away from Bucky's cock and looking up at steve through fanned lashes. He gave you a nod, but stopped you before your lips could meet the shaft of Bucky's dick in a wet kiss.

You pulled back again, pumping your fingers even faster when you saw Steve lower his own lips to Bucky's cock. They spread over the tip, saliva dripping from them as Steve spat onto Bucky's skin. The brunet groaned, loud, as Steve bobbed down, his nose brushing the patch of curls at the base.

He clearly did this a lot.

The other thing that surprised you, but sent a tingle of need up for spine nonetheless, was when Steve reached up Bucky's body, his fingers pinching the older man's nipple before rolling the bud between them.

The sight made you let out your own small moan, your hips unintentionally winding down against the covers as you felt yourself growing hotter again.

But a loud whine pulled you from your haze, Steve's warm hand over your wrist as he pulled your touch away from Bucky. You felt bad, the man was squirming under your heavy gazes; denied of his release.

"Ah, ah. We don't whine. Now get up; I'm itching to see you buried in our girl." You shivered, like visibly shivered, the words echoing about your mind. Our girl.

Bucky crawling across the bed pulled you out of your trance yet again, his hands of your waist to guide you so your back was flush against the now-sweaty sheets a delicious contrast of cool and warm.

"Good boy, now make me proud." Steve murmured into Bucky's ear, perfect teeth nipping at the man's lobe before Steve gave Bucky's ass a quick spank and pulled away. Bucky squeaked, but pulled his lip between his teeth anyway.

"Please, Bucky," you croaked, voice nothing but a breathy whine, "Wan' to feel you inside me." You were growing impatient now, witnessing the lovers' little interactions making you slick with want.

Bucky couldn't deny you that, the doe eyes you were flashing him making the man's cock ache with need. Wrapping a firm hand around his throbbing cock, Bucky glided the tip between you puffy folds, Steve chuckling as you bucked up at Bucky, hips jumping.

"Fuck, doll." Bucky growled as he sheathed himself inside you in one, slow thrust. You sucked him in, the walls of your cunt pulsating around his thickness as you groaned, hair sticking to your face as your toes curled and hands cling to Bucky's broad shoulders.

"Bucky!" You cried out, soon joined by the super soldier himself as he felt Steve's tip judge his tight opening.

"Ready, baby?" Steve cooed, almost mockingly. The strained nod Bucky gave him seemed to be enough for Steve, the super soldier the tip of his slick cock breaching the barrier of Bucky's stretched ass. A smirk widely spread in his pink lips at the sinfully loud moan he pulled from his husband's lips.

"S'tight. Always so fuckin' tight for me, doll." Steve purred against Bucky's skin as he pushed in, only stopping once he'd bottomed out. Bucky's eyes were wide now, a dirty moan spilling through his lips at the feeling of Steve's thick head massaging his prostate. Your own moans accompanied Bucky's, a filthy harmony of pleasure ringing through the sex-scented room.

Steve begun a punishing rhythm, one that Bucky was quick to match on his own, thighs smacking against yours. Your eyes were threatening to disappear into your skull and your back was beginning to arch, breaking away from the bed, but the thin sheen of sweat caused the covers to lift with you.

Bucky's balls were slapping lewdly against your ass, still wet from Steve's saliva. Steve grasped Bucky's hips to ground himself, his grasp on his husband so tight that all three of them only knew there'd be pretty purple bruises decorating his beautiful skin tomorrow.

Bucky grabbed for something to hold onto, his flesh hand pulling at your wrists until he managed to pin them over your head, the metal appendage cupping your flushed-hot cheek in a cooling grip. He smashed his lips against yours - messy and desperate as his tongue sought yours.

"You like that, huh? You like shoving your tongue down our girl's throat?" Steve rasped from behind, a smirk evident in his derisive tone. There it was again: our girl. The words truly made you tingle, but also made you hope that the name would be permanent. Our girl.

Bucky's moan was strained as he attempted to nod, his pace picking up even more as his lost release came back in sight.

"Filthy fuckin' boy. Look like such fuckin' whores when you kiss like that." Steve chided, hand grasping and palming the flesh of Bucky's ass. "Remember your manners, baby. Make her cum before you whore out and fill 'er up." Steve gritted, teeth nipping at Bucky's neck until it tingled with that glorious pleasure-pain.

Bucky nodded again, just as strained as the last time as his metal hand shakily reached down to rub circles over your clit.

"G-gonna cum!" You screamed, and Bucky smirked this time, a proud glance crossing his cerulean eyes. "'M gonna cum!" You cried, walls fluttering, spasming, clenching, clawing at Bucky's cock.

When it hit you properly it was white-hot pleasure, blooming in your core and spread throughout your body. You shook, bones vibrating as you felt your vision clouding with the intensity.

A harsh, rippling smack from Steve to Bucky's ass sending him over the edge with you, the brunet collapsing forward to cover your body with his as he emptied himself inside you.

Steve stilled his hips, heavy pants washing over them as he let out a dirty string of moans and grunts. He filled Bucky's ass perfectly, the sticky, white substance leaking around his cock before Steve carefully pulled out.

It was only in that moment that you realised it, the wince that escaped you when Bucky pulled out more from the feeling of his cum seeping from your hole that anything else.

"Wha- I'm not in anything." You suddenly gasped, eyes wide. Steve smirked after he ushered Bucky out the room, his large form bending over your and he cupped your face in his hands.

"That's the point sweetheart. Did you really think my gift would just be you? You're having our baby, doll." Steve grinned. You should be discussed by his words. He tricked you. But if anything, you were overjoyed. You'd discussed surrogacy before with the super soldiers, but had eventually ruled out the idea because you couldn't comprehend giving up your baby - even if it wasn't really yours in the first place.

"You mean-?" You couldn't find your words, the syllables scattered around the room as your mouth opened and closed a few times. Steve nodded, tears glistening across his eyes and most likely yours.

"You're going to be a mother, y/n. You're going to be ours." Steve mumbled, nose bumping yours as he leant in for a sweet kiss.

"What?" Bucky's voice drawled from the door, a little damp rag clutched in his hand as he returned - cleaned up.

"Shit." Steve muttered in a hiss as he pulled away, eyes flickering to yours before he stood up. "Buck, I can-" Steve began to explain but the completely overjoyed look on Bucky's face stopped him.

"We're having a baby?" Bucky mumbled, eyes widened with hope.

"Yes." Steve smiled, his arms open as Bucky crashed into them, head buried against Steve's chest.

"Thank you. I love you, so much." Bucky squealed, pulling away enough to connect his lips with Steve's before he was looking to you over his husband's shoulder. "And thank you, too, doll. Really. I can't wait to have you as ours."

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[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

Missing You

A/N: This is just a little smutty one-shot. Thank you guys so much for all of the notes on my last fic! I really thought it was gonna get like 4 notes so that was a really amazing surprise. If you haven’t read it you can check it out here: I Would Do Anything You Asked Me To

Masterlist

Read the (sort of) part 2: Up In The Air

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N gets creative in her attempts to convince Spencer to get a phone from this century

Category: Pure smut baby

Warnings/Includes: smut, graphic descriptions of sex, dirty talk, phone sex, innocence kink, masturbation (both male and female), please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed

Word count: 2200 words

“I don’t need one Y/N” he says exasperated, neatly folding clothes to put into his go-bag. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation but Y/N continued to insist.

“I’m not saying you need one Spence, I’m saying that it would be nice if you had one. Your phone now just does the bare minimum, calls and texts, does that thing even get your emails?”

He rolls his eyes, “You know that’s exactly what I like about it, why would I want any other functions? Plus I like the tactility of the buttons. Humans have been conditioned to find stimulants like the feedback from pressing a button satisfying, it helps us feel like we’re solving problems, essentially.” He deflects.

She takes a step closer to him, placing a hand gently on his arm, “Do you know what could be more satisfying than that?” She questions him, and he shakes his head, eyebrows coming together in confusion, “If I could send you pictures while you were away? Or if we could video chat when I miss you at night?” She pulls him around to face her so he can see her expression, the way she’s looking up at him with half lidded eyes, hoping he doesn’t miss what she’s getting at.

He smirks, and lets out a laugh that’s just shy of scoffing, “You know we can do that with just audio?”

“Are you serious?” He just nods in response, “so you don’t think the visual component is necessary?”

“Necessary’s not the word I would use. It would be nice to have, but I’ve got enough visual aids stored away up here” he taps his temple as he speaks. She groans at him, her point failing to land.

“We can’t all have your memory! Sometimes I don’t just want to think about you getting off in a hotel room, I want to see it” she whines and he gives her a small laugh.

“Look, we can talk about this later but I have to go” he places a gentle kiss on her forehead before he zips up his bag and is out the door.

— — —

When he gets back to his hotel room that evening he collapses back onto the bed. He should have a shower but he’s not sure he even has the energy for that. He was reserving it for his phone call.

He and Y/N had an agreement. Whenever he was away he had to call her each night he was gone. It wasn’t a possessive thing, it was more of a safety thing. If she could just hear his voice for even 30 seconds she could sleep easy. Sometimes it would be just that, a quick ‘hello, love you, goodnight’ other times there’d be plenty to talk about, good and bad. Sometimes he needed the call more than she did. But they never had phone sex.

Spencer was confused why she’d seemed so adamant that it was something he should upgrade his phone for when it wasn’t something they typically even engaged in.

But he didn’t know what she had in store for him yet.

He got changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt and lay back into bed, propping himself up against the pillows. He dialed Y/N’s number.

“Hi there.” her voice was smooth like honey and he missed her already.

“Hi.” he breathed

“Did you find my present yet?” He had no idea what she was referring to. Sitting upright in his bed on instinct.

“No?”

“Shame, will you check that little inside pocket of your bag for me? The one with the zip?” he hops straight up to root for it, finding a small sealed envelope. He settles back into bed before he rips it open. It contains a small collection of Polaroids, all of them of Y/N.

She knew what he liked. He’d never say it in so many words but he had a thing for innocence, something about seeing her in white lingerie, or sometimes baby pink. He would always get a little more excited than usual, grabbing, and pulling, and ripping on occasion. But he didn’t recognize the set she was wearing in the Polaroids. It was white satin, with some ruffles, she had a suspender belt around her waist with thin white stockings attached as she stretched out on their shared bed.

His eyes poured over the images, in another it was just from her chest up, giving him a perfect view of her breasts, the expanse of her neck, the frame cutting off just above her lips which were delicately covered in lipgloss. He could see sheen of where the cameras flash had bounced off it.

“Fuck” was all he could think to say. All other words escaping him as he turned his attention towards the photo of her with her hands inside of her own panties, her back arched off the bed beneath her.

“So you found ‘em?” She spoke, her voice sultry and laden with tension.

“I, uh, yeah” he breathes down the line, feeling his cock twitch at the sound of her voice coupled with the images in front of him.

“Are those— the underwear, is it new?” He already knows the answer but he’s not sure what else to ask.

“Mmhmm” she hums, “I thought you’d like this set, I was saving it for a special occasion but I thought, what the hell.”

“I do, I like it a lot.” he reaches his hand inside the waistband of his sweatpants without really thinking about it.

“You know Spence, I really wish you were here right now” she toys with him playfully, “So you could see this set in person, I’m looking at myself in the mirror right now and those pictures really don’t do it justice.”

Spencer almost stops breathing, “You’re wearing— now?” He asks in disbelief.

“This is what I usually do when I miss you Love. I’ll get all dressed up in something I know you like, and I’ll fantasize about what you’d do to me if you were here.” her tone is soft but teasing, still standing to admire herself in the mirror.

She could see why he liked her in white, it made her look so sweet, and cute almost. Whenever she wore underwear like this she went all out. Applying a mascara she knew would run down her cheeks with even the slightest tear, lipstick or lipgloss that was sure to smear or leave stains all over the parts of Spencer that she’d kiss. He loved that, the juxtaposition of the before and after. The adorable angel that he got to ruin.

“What do you do when you fantasize?” He questions, letting his own mind drift as he wraps his hand around his now painfully hard cock.

“Well I’ll think about you, how you like to hold me down by my hips while you eat me out, or how much better your fingers feel” she moans, slipping her own fingers into her panties as she lays down in their bed, “mine just don’t fill me up like yours do.”

Spencer can imagine it perfectly, the way she’s probably splayed out on their bed right now. “God I wish I was there. I’d have my fingers so deep inside you, you’re always so wet for me” he groans into the receiver, “tell me how wet you are for me baby?”

She’s impressed that he’s getting the hang of this so quickly, obliging him right away. “Fuck Spence, I’ve been dripping wet since I heard your voice. I’ve been thinking about this all day. Do you want to hear?”  

She doesn’t wait for a response, she just brings the phone down towards her pussy, lining up the microphone next to it as she pumps her fingers in and out, so that he can hear the wet sounds that fill her bedroom. When she brings the phone back to her ear he’s breathing heavily.

“Fuck Y/N. I wish I was there so bad, I wish I could fuck you right this second” he’s almost whimpering, she can tell he’s touching himself already.

“If you were here with me in bed right now, how would you fuck me Spencer?” She takes a moment to root her vibrator from the drawer in her beside locker. If she concentrated, or stopped concentrating maybe, she could pretend it was him.

“I’d grab you by that fucking suspender belt, and flip you over. Have you face down on the bed for me, your perfect ass in the air.” His sentences are punctuated by harsh breaths, bordering on gasps. “For being such a tease I’d have to rip those tiny little panties off you, as if they were really covering anything in the first place.”

As he speaks she hooks her fingers in the sides of those panties and pulls them off her legs so she’s got better access now. Lining the head of her vibrator up at her entrance, pushing it in slow and steady, waiting until it’s completely sheathed inside her before turning it on.

“I’d grab you by your hips and pull your ass up so my cock is right there, so I can push the head up against your pussy, feeling how fucking wet you are for me”

She’s moaning now, and if he can hear the vibrations he doesn’t say anything.

“Then I’d push into you, your tight little cunt, I always have to go so slow for you to take all of me. I’d keep going, deep as I can so I can feel you squirm under me, feel you clench even tighter around me”

She had no idea he had a mouth this dirty but she was loving every second. “I fucking love it when you fuck me from behind” is all she can string together, writhing on top of their sheets.

“And that’s exactly what I’d do next baby, I’d start to fuck you. Slow, and deep at first, then fast, and rough. I love the sounds you make when I get rough. Those pathetic little whimpers and cries while I fuck you into the mattress. I can even hear them with your face buried in the pillows. It’s even better when you cry just a bit, mascara all over your little cheeks ‘cause you just can’t take it.”

He’s panting now, his boxers pushed down his hips so that he can properly work his cock, his fist pumping up and down faster and faster as he’s about release.

“Where would you cum Spence?” She says it but she almost doesn’t recognize her voice, it’s more of a strangled cry and it goes straight to his dick.

“You know I’d cum deep inside you, fill you up while you tighten around me, god I love those fucking noises you make. Cum for me” he demands, and she’s got no problem obliging.

With her back arching up off the bed, her hands fisting the sheets, and the vibrator still buried inside her, imagining it’s Spencer, she cries out. Moaning louder than she intended, her phone on loudspeaker beside her. She can hear him too. His hand working himself through his climax as it coats his stomach and fingers and little gasps and groans he lets out that sound an awful lot like her name.

Once they’re both spent they lie in silence in their respective beds for a moment before Spencer breaks the tension.

“That was a surprise”

She bursts out laughing. “Well that was the idea”

“But why?” He asks, deliriously happy but confused.

“I thought it might convince you to invest in a phone with a camera?” She says like he’s silly for even asking.

“Why would I want that? This just proved that we don’t need that” he explains, and he’s not wrong but he’s missed the point.

“Spencer, I’m gonna take some pictures of myself right now, and I’m gonna send them to your email. I want you to grab your laptop and open ‘em up for me okay?”

“Okay?” He agrees unsure, and she hangs up.

Several minutes later and he’s opening up an email with the subject heading:

“pros of dr. reid getting a new phone”

There’s no text, just a series of photos of Y/N. She’s staged them perfectly.

The first is a selfie, messy hair, smudged lipgloss, and mascara stained cheeks on show as she’s blowing him a kiss. Another is just her mouth, but she’s stuffed her discarded panties inside, leaving the wet stain obviously visible to him. There’s others of her, taken of herself in the mirror, fingers inside herself, in the next she’s got those same fingers in her mouth, lips closed tightly around them, cheeks hollowed out. Spencer has to stop scrolling or he’ll just get hard again.

He hears his phone ping with a text message.

You could’ve been looking at these the whole time, might’ve even gotten a video if you were lucky x

He rarely likes to admit defeat but in this case it might just be worth it to concede.

I’ll buy a new phone first thing tomorrow x

—

Masterlist

Read the (sort of) part 2: Up In The Air

[hanajjima]

STEALING HIS RIDE | SANO MANJIRO (MIKEY)

Warnings: slight degradation, sexual content

“I’m going alone.” 

“No, you’re not.” 

The tension in the air was thick enough to slice through with a knife. Silence rang amongst the Toman executives as they looked between their leader and his girlfriend, glaring daggers at each other. Mikey sat, elbows perched on his thighs, while she stood stubbornly on the other side of the room, hands balled into fists and eyes narrowed. 

His expression gave nothing away. Impassive as always, lips set in a firm line as he stared her down. He was getting real annoyed at her, bringing up their personal issues in public in front of Kisaki and all their subordinates. Really testing his patience.

He flexed his fingers.

She stood there, proud and defiant. Barging in while he’s working like his time meant nothing. Such boldness coming from his babygirl. He’d have to remind her who’s in charge. Put her over his knee in front of his men, bunch up her dress and -- 

“I told you, they won’t answer me truthfully if I show up with a bunch of gangsters on my ass.” 

“That’s your problem. Either take ‘em or you’re not going at all. Now leave. We’re in the middle of a meeting.” 

Hurt crashes over her features. Hands fall slack to her sides, lips parted in surprise as her cheeks and ears burn red. 

He’d admit what he said was harsh and not true at all. He cares and wants her research to go well. But she’s making a fucking scene. Mikey can’t let that go unchecked. She didn’t often come to Toman meetings because she was busy with school. So she rarely saw him like this: cold, mean, acting like he didn’t give a crap about anything. But she’d understand when they talk about it later. He’s willing to compromise, but right now he just needs her to leave.

He wants her to be safe and venturing into the red-light district to interview some sex workers in the dead of night was the complete opposite. Shady characters roamed the streets and the thought of some creep even looking at her made his blood simmer. 

But she kept insisting that she has to go alone or the girls won’t trust her. They won’t honestly share their experiences with a bunch of men who run the operation lurking around the corner.  

Mikey understood all that, and he’s grateful for her odd interest in his corrupt dog-eat-dog world where his days are filled with trading brain-damaging narcotics, running prostitution rings, and selling military grade weapons. He breathed blood and violence. It stalked him around every corner and despite her interest, he tried his best to keep her far away from it all. However, when they first met, he never bothered hiding who he was.

It was at a club run by Takuya Hiroshi. A greedy bastard who made his fortune trafficking drugs, women, girls, boys, anyone or anything he could get his hands on. In a crowd filled with lustful sweaty bodies rubbing up against each other on a dance floor, she instantly stood out as someone who didn’t belong.  

In terms of attire, she was fine. Dolled up in a mini black sleeveless dress with black pumps and gold chains around her neck and wrists. They complimented her warm brown skin. Others would say she’s wearing too much, but to Mikey she was downright gorgeous. What stuck out was her awkwardness. She stood off to the side, not even holding a drink, just watched the sea of grinding bodies, a wide-eyed look of disbelief. 

Mikey found her entertaining to watch, eyes timidly roaming, hands fumbling, unsure of what to do with them. In hindsight, it was a bad idea. Any girl he met, he knew she’d end up drowning in his darkness. But he was weak. He missed his friends. And in that moment, he approached her, introduced himself, and they got to talking. He found out she was a phd student in anthropology studying… organized crime.

That shocked him. He suspected she was from a different world, but academia was not what he was expecting. And researching crime of all things. It was a little suspicious, and he wondered if it was a cover story. Then he deduced that if it was, it’s their shittiest one yet. 

He told her how he barely finished high school before dedicating all his time to growing Toman into what it is today. Japan’s largest gang. When he shared his position as its leader, she didn’t even blink. Didn’t pull away. Didn’t run. 

Her reaction baffled him so much all he could do was dumbly nod when she offered to buy him a drink. He then realized what she asked and counter offered, made sure her drink wasn’t spiked as he carefully watched the bartender who’d been hungrily eyeing her.

She didn’t seem to notice, too absorbed by him, and continued asking questions like an excited child. Mikey tried to answer honestly, without giving away any life-threatening information. At the end of their conversation, they exchanged numbers. Another development he allowed with no resistance.  

Fast forward a year later and they’re somehow still together and she’s still alive. Mikey has every intention of keeping her that way. Safe and out of harm’s way, where his dangerous lifestyle won’t fuck her over. But her research aspirations are making his goal difficult to achieve.  

“Fine. I’ll see you at home then.” She steels herself, placing a hand on her cocked hip. “This is far from over, Manjiro.” 

“Whatever you say, babe.” He smirks.

She grimaces at the stupid nickname. 

Who does Mikey think he is, mocking her, telling her what she can and can’t do? The audacity, ordering her around, humiliating her in front of all these people. She’d show him just who he chose to be with. She’s aware of his fears for her. That someone will use her to get to him. It’s a valid concern and one she doesn’t take lightly.

But he’s being absurd. She isn’t a delicate flower, and it isn’t even that dangerous. She’ll be fine on her own. No one has it out for her and she has pepper spray and a taser if anyone messes with her. She’s prepared, and she’s going to show him she can handle herself. Give him a taste of his own medicine. Right now. 

She licks her lips and saunters over to him, hips swaying as he follows her movements like a man starved. Though not without a tinge of suspicion. His intelligent phd baby is up to something. 

He lets her cup his chin and tip his head up to meet her lips in a kiss that started out chaste but steadily deepened as she plopped herself onto his lap. She throws her leg over his waist as he tastes her smooth lips and skin, placing butterfly kisses along her jawline and neck. Mikey squeezes the flesh of her panty-clad ass and travels up to her waist then breasts, thumbing her nipples through the thin fabric and drawing out soft whines. She, for sure, isn’t wearing a padded bra. 

His pants tighten and he wants to fill her. Needs her warm gummy walls engulfing his cock. He didn’t know she could be so brazen, making out with him surrounded by the ravenous eyes of his men. He knows they’re eagerly watching the show. 

They can look but never touch, and the thought turned him on immensely. He guides her hips back and forth over him and he moves in kind, grinding up against her clothed mound. The friction sends delicious shivers down his spine.

What he doesn’t notice is her fishing the keys to his bike out of the pocket of his sweatpants. She makes sure he’s distracted, giving him one last searing kiss. All tongue, tasting the cavern of his mouth and nipping his bottom lip before pulling away. 

She stands with a breathless huff and smooths out her dress. Mikey’s panting like he’s run a marathon, pupils blown wide with a tinge of red on his pale cheeks and blonde tresses mussed up. The sight of him completely disheveled floods her with power. She’s the only one who can bring the ‘invincible Mikey’ to such a state.

“I-I’ll take the train back,” she murmurs with swollen lips, trying to remember how to form words. 

She catches the eye of Toman’s second leader sitting next to Mikey, Kisaki Tetta. He’s watching her like a hawk with those unnerving baby blue eyes, scanning her body up and down with distinct longing. 

She smiles and winks at him, catching him off guard. He blinks, like he didn’t realize what he was doing, and looks away with a frown. She’s never spoken to Kisaki before, but he’d be an interesting person to know. A patient, supremely smart man. The brains behind Toman’s business deals. While Mikey is more the face.

She gives a last wave to her boyfriend with the hand that doesn’t have his stolen keys.

 He nods wordlessly, working his jaw. 

When he gets home tonight, he’s going to ruin her. First, she leaves him blue balled and then she has the nerve to make eyes at Kisaki in front of him. If she wants to act like a slut, he’ll treat her like one. 

She does her best to leave at a pace that doesn’t give away the urgency bubbling in her chest. 

Mikey’s going to notice sooner or later if Kisaki or someone else didn’t already catch onto her plan. 

She hurries down the stairs, sandals slapping against the pavement. She spots Mikey’s bike and hoists herself onto the seat. Starting up the engine, she kicks up the kickstand as the bike whirs to life. A smooth deep purr which she hopes isn’t too loud. Pressing down on the accelerator, she takes off into the night, weaving in between cars while the wind rushes through her hair. 

She’s ridden Mikey’s bike before, but being the driver was different. It’s exhilarating and freeing and she thinks she understands how it helps him when he feels weighed down by all his responsibilities.  

/

Kisaki levels Mikey with a deadpan expression. “Are we ready to resume? Assuming there are no more… interruptions.”

“Actually, we’ll need to take a rain check,” Kokonoi said, coming back into the room from a much needed bathroom break. 

Mikey arches a brow. “Why?”

Kisaki turns to him. Everyone’s attention rests on Kokonoi as he struggles to figure out the best wording that won’t result in a bullet planted between his eyes. 

“Uh, I’m pretty sure your girlfriend stole your bike just now. It’s... not there. You’ll probably want the car to go after her?” He asked, uncertainly. He’d slipped out in the middle of their argument. But he could tell she had somewhere she wanted to go that the boss opposed.

Mikey’s hands immediately feel for his keys and realize they aren’t there. It dawns on him where she went… 

He shot up from his seat, reeling. 

That -- that sneaky little cheat! When he gets his hands on her, she’ll be crying, begging him to stop. He’ll screw her brains out, make her choke on his cock for daring to test his tolerance of her entitled behavior. She’s going to wish she never messed with him.

How dare she play him for a fool. He knew she was up to some shit, but she felt so damn good in his lap and he wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. Never making that mistake again. 

Beside him, Kisaki’s smile gleamed with amusement and Hanma, hovering by him, snickered. 

Mikey sent them both silencing glares. 

Kisaki rolled his eyes and signaled for Kokonoi to bring the car around to the front of the building.

He sighed. “Come back after you catch your pet. We have a proposal to go over.” 

Mikey frowned. Only he could get away with calling his girlfriend demeaning nicknames (in jest or seriousness). But he wasn’t in a position to call Kisaki out after the crap she pulled. 

“I’ll come by your place tomorrow. My pet needs attention.”

Reblogs appreciated!

[adoringmha]

CLEAN UP

pairing: bakugo x fem!reader

summary: bakugo comes home from work to find you doing the dishes and gets needy <3

warnings: oral (fem receiving) but only for a bit while doing the dishes, lowkey innocent reader but not really (that’s just the vibe i got when writing it), waste of water skshsj, a hint of degradation, also c*m-licking...

word count: 1.4k

notes: this came to me while i was doing the dishes tbh that’s it + i feel like this isn’t that good but i wanted to post something for his birthday <3

you were washing the dishes, almost half-way done when you heard the door open and close. you smiled to yourself, already feeling happier that bakugo was home. normally, you’d meet him at the door to greet him, but you were a little busy today cleaning up. 

bakugo walked in and frowned when you weren’t immediately there to jump in his arms and kiss him hello. he grumbled to himself and took his shoes off, setting his bag down in the entryway. he was wearing his sweats and a tank top, already changed out of his hero costume and wanted nothing more than to literally sink into you. 

he walked through your home, a usual scowl on his face, but it was quick to turn into a smirk when he noticed you in the kitchen, your comfy short shorts on and one of your lace bralettes, but most importantly a little pink apron tied at your waist. 

he licked his lips, “there you are teddy bear.” his voice was rough and immediately shot down to your core. 

you turned your head with a smile before turning back to the plate you were washing. “hi bub, how was your day?”

he took a moment to answer, too distracted, his eyes scanning up and down your body, resting generously on the curves of your ass he could see under your shorts. “same old shit,” he mumbled half-heartedly. after a few seconds he spoke again, “you know it’s not very nice of you to tease me like this, princess.”

your brows furrowed in confusion, “tease you? but i’m not doing anything.” 

“yes you are. standing here, looking like that. your perfect ass out. you’re always fuckin’ teasing me.”

you laughed to yourself and rolled your eyes. “so basically i exist and you’re personally offended––”

you could hear the smirk in his voice that was suddenly way closer than before. “i’m personally offended that you aren’t sitting on my face right now.” before you could respond, he slapped your ass hard with the help of his quirk to add an extra sting.

“katsu–!”

he pulled you into his chest by your waist, his fingertips digging into you nicely. “what, baby? it’s true.” he buried his face in your shoulder and you could feel him taking you in, the scent of your body soap, the softness of your skin. he kissed along your shoulder, and up your neck slowly, before trailing his lips up your jaw and licking along the shell of your ear. he bit your earlobe teasingly and you shuddered in his hands, making him chuckle. “what do you say, hm?” he kissed your cheek. “you gonna let me eat that pretty pussy? it is mine after all...”

you swallowed thickly and tried to stand straight, accidentally rubbing your ass into his hardening bulge, making him groan and press his fingers into you harder. “but the...the dishes––” 

he rolled his hips into you and groaned, barely hearing your words. he breathed out against your ear, “i’ll tell you what,” he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and your panties, silently waiting for you to object. when you didn’t, he pulled them off and threw them aside. 

“you keep doing the dishes, and i get my late night snack, okay?” 

you tried to turn around but he wouldn’t let you, his hands holding you still as he got down on his knees. “wait you’re gonna–”

“spread your legs and let me get my fill, teddy bear.” he squeezed both your ass cheeks in his hands, clearly enjoying himself and you could just about picture the smile on his face. “you gonna be my good girl, hm?” 

you nodded, spreading your legs and bending over the sink slightly, biting your lip in anticipation, already feeling the heat spreading through your body. before you could even respond, he spread your cheeks and buried his face in you, his tongue lapping through your folds to taste you eagerly. “mm yes katsu.” 

the plate that was in your hand almost slipped as your eyes ached to flutter shut immediately, bakugo’s touch knocking the sense out of you. the water was running over your hands carelessly and you swore you forgot what you were doing and where you were for a moment until bakugo spoke up again, the brief moment he separated from your lower half giving you time to think clearly.

“make sure you clean em well baby, i want them to be spotless.” he spit on your pussy and you moaned loudly, making him smirk against your lips. “don’t worry, i’ll clean you up real good when i’m done too.”

you nodded and whined pathetically, bucking back into him to get him to continue. he grinned almost sadistically, and dove back in at full force and speed, groaning and moaning into your heat like an animal.

his tongue was exploring all around your cunt expertly, licking, prodding and teasing all the spots to make you tick. his eyes were closed and he was fully immersed into you, hellbent on making you cum on his tongue—he wanted to taste you, and to make you fall apart so fucking bad.

you were rocking back into him, letting him tongue-fuck you, wasting the water running from the faucet, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. the water was turning cold and it was splashing off the plate, onto your chest and arms but the heat of the pleasure from bakugo’s tongue running through your veins overpowered that.

it wasn’t until he opened his eyes and realized that your arms weren’t moving that he pulled away, pulling a long high-pitched whine from your throat.

he smacked your ass hard and your body immediately jerked back into his touch, yearning for more, whatever he’d give you. “wash those fucking dishes, princess. what’d i tell you.”

“but baby—“ he growled your name in warning and you sighed and tried to catch your breath, letting out a small “okay” before you resumed washing the dishes, your hands shaky and uncoordinated, your mind still glitching from his mind-numbing touch.

he grunted, pleased, before licking a torturously long swipe from your clit to your opening that had you gasping for air. “taste like fucking candy, baby bear. fuck-“ you felt him take one hand away from you and heard a quiet spitting noise and you moaned out loud when you realize he’d taken his cock out and started stroking himself to your taste. but you quickly tried to rush through the rest of the dishes, fearing he’d stop. 

he chuckled, “yeah, you like that baby? the sound of me stroking my cock while i’m tongue-fucking you? such a slutty little thing––” he smacked your ass again and started stroking himself faster, just the taste of you and the sound of your moans enough to bring him close to the edge.  

though he could feel himself about to burst, he kept at it, shaking his head vigorously, moaning obscenely into your heat and it took a lot of effort, but you quickly finished washing the few things that were left and shut the water off immediately, bringing a wet hand back to grip his hair, making him groan into you. “fuck yes.” 

he swirled his tongue around your clit, one hand grabbing your ass as you grinded back into him, the other fisting his cock faster and faster. he wrapped his lips around your bundle of nerves and you let out a guttural moan, your legs trembling as you struggled to keep yourself upright, your hand tugging at his strands harshly, triggering his release. 

he stayed true to his word and lapped up all over your cunt, cleaning you up as he stroked himself slowly, milking himself dry all over his hand, panting against your wet folds. he left a few sloppy kisses on your pussy, trailing them to your ass before he bit it playfully, smiling against it when you yelped.

he stood up and turned you around with one hand, not wasting any time in pulling you flush against him and pressing his lips against yours, letting you taste yourself. “you drive me fucking crazy princess,” he mumbled against your lips, pulling away to smirk at you when you giggled. 

you grabbed his hand and without breaking eye contact, licked his fingers clean, bringing them in your mouth to suck on them sensually, rubbing your thighs together when you noticed him getting worked up again. he pumped his fingers in and out of your mouth, his own hanging open as he watched you. “that’s my good fucking girl. you clean up so well.”

[silksaddle]

The Traveler 2

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x f!reader Western AU

Chapter summary: 1907, Old West. Talk of the Statesman gang is slowly on the rise while Jack continues to distract you from your chores, taking you on another but entirely different night-time outing. 

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language, guns, mentions of alcohol and gangs, copious flirting, SMUT, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex/piv sex, outdoor sex, thigh spanking, please pardon me for the amount of smut content in this chapter, a crumb of plot development, Jack Daniels again...

Word count: 14k (leave me alone)

A/N: gif credit to @javier-pena once again! thank you my beloved astrid! and as always, much love to my amazing friends who sent me inspo posts and listened to my anxious ramblings about god-knows-what. you are all the best and you have my heart.

Read Chapter One ~ Series Masterlist

Chapter Two: Six Shooter

Jack is spreading his half-naked body over the mattress in a contented stretch when you return to the bedroom, flustered and hot-cheeked.

“You here to take my sheets, darlin’? I must insist I keep ‘em,” he chortles, turning his bright face over the soft pillow as you attempt stripping the sheets from under him, your lungs emptying in a huff when he catches your wrist and draws you to him instead. Your body lands perfectly on top of his with your weak protest, a poor match for his irresistibly gravel-like voice and his buzzing snugness.

“You’re making my job quite difficult,” you mumble into his neck, kissing the smooth skin there although your words are much more harsh. His chest rumbles, fingers running the length of your clothed back from when he’d hurriedly laced you back into your dress, lips skimming graceful but mindless lines on your temple.

“Mrs. Adler thinks you’re doing your chores.” Jack’s palms are now ghosting over your shoulders as you prop yourself up on your elbows, taking his gaze with you as you move, and you can tell your dilating pupils are betraying the falseness of your annoyed tone when you look at his expanding chest. He takes a deep breath in, the angle of morning light catching his eyes just right to melt them into golden flecks, his dishevelled hair incurable without a bath. 

You card your fingers through, and though it’s slightly tangled, the texture is silky enough to brush through the messy state and straighten it out, just a smidge. The touch causes his eyes to flutter closed, and shimmying up his body, he leans his head back to expose his neck further, the long lines and tone popping against each other. His breath hitches when he feels your own puffing across it, his chest immobile while he waits to feel something more from you, but you don’t kiss him, don’t nip him, don’t caress him there.

“I’ve only come to take your sheets to wash them— I should already be downstairs,” you insist and he mopes, your voice softly carrying throughout the bright bedroom, limbs absent-mindedly wrapping around his firm ones until he clings to you.

“Oh,” he hums, tipping his body until you roll under him onto the no-longer-fresh sheets, landing on your back with his hands cradling your head. His handsome smile makes you forget you ever needed to take his sheets in the first place, and when he kisses you deeply, moaning low when you open up for him and his bare skin slides over you, you don’t even remember where you are. “Thought you’d wanted some more of me…”

“Mmm, Jack— she’s already a little suspicious of me,” you giggle, wriggling underneath his heavy weight and it’s a futile effort beneath his affection, his lips laying warm insistent kisses all over your forehead, your cheeks, your jaw. He’s unstoppable, whether it’s the heaviness or the happiness that makes you lie there and take it with quiet laughter as the rough skin of his cheek touches gently to yours. 

Jack is as much the sunshine of the room as the real thing, chuckling sweetly along with you and growing more pleased the louder your squealing sounds become, your fingers pulling across the bare skin of his back— he likes it too much to let you off in a timely manner.

Mrs. Adler had only just believed your excuse of a poor sleep as you’d rushed out in a tizzy with your disheveled hair and clothes, and a terrible flourish of panic had bloomed in your chest at the thought of an unchecked mark lingering on your neck. But Jack had looked you over meticulously; deft fingers had worked at the laces of your layers. And even before making it to the kitchen, two dozen kisses wet on your thighs, you’d opened the door only to find the old woman pacing about on the landing of the stairs. Slamming it shut with your back on the wood, panting in the face of confrontation, Jack snickered and peeked out for you a minute later, confirming your chance to slip out undetected.

Now finished serving breakfast, Jack once again prevents you from carrying out your tasks.

“You’ve left me with a lastin’ impression,” he rasps, eyes crinkling as he slips a hand under your skirt and the touch tickles and inspires a giddy laugh from your throat as you swat him away, at last slipping out from under him. 

“Give me your sheets, you greedy man,” you order, lifting your chin and furrowing your brow with your arm extended. Jack purses his lips and thinks, sitting up to run a hand through his dark hair, your smile growing despite yourself when it sticks up in bulky curls to leave his contented face in view. 

“These sheets have got your smell on ‘em now,” he grins like it’s his most favoured fact in his whole life, leaning back into his palms and his cock is slowly hardening between his legs as he considers his next words, “your cum is on them.”

“Jack,” you chuckle, “you’re dirty.” Inching closer to him, his joyous face turns dark when you arrive in the middle of his strong thighs extending past the edge of the bed, “Get up, please, or I’ll have you explaining why I’m behind schedule for the second time today.”

He presses up onto his feet, his gentle scent covering you as if a fleeting spell, and before any more rational thoughts occur, your hand is reaching into his unbuttoned pants, wrapping around his hard length. His head tips back, the softest growl filling your ears and he pushes his hips forward, placing his hands on your cheeks, urging your lips to slide along his as he fucks into your tight fist. It’s a sweet kiss compared to his already desperate thrusts, his cum still streaking your thighs, inside of you, outside of you, from mere hours before.

“I told you I’d come back here tonight. We’ve plenty of time to ruin more sheets.” Your whisper earns a heavy sigh expelled onto your skin, his grip sliding down to your neck and as his mouth hangs open, you nip at his bottom lip and pull it into your mouth, a tender suckle on the plush softness. He hisses as you let it go, burying his nose into the curve of your neck, and stilling his movements with your hand, he lets you work him like that— your fingers tightly curled around his cock as you slide it in and out of your palm. 

“Fuck me,” he groans, “I better see you back here if you’re gonna touch me like this, darlin’.”

Smiling, you pump him quickly, whispering how you can still feel him as if he’s fucking you right now, how good he is, how thick, and he growls from his chest, shutting his eyes tight in concentration.

“Maybe you’ll let me touch you tonight, too, Jack, leave your ropes for another time…” Your free hand clamps around the back of his neck, twirling your fingers around the hair at the nape of it, before tugging him down for a slower kiss, capturing his striking whine in your mouth.

“Shit, darlin’... I’d do anything you say right about now… Christ,” Jack’s fingers trace the neckline of your bodice as his lips skate along your cheek, and his voice is so husky and rumbly, you almost consider a greater risk of trouble.

He makes no protest as you bend carefully, still pumping his thick cock while you yank the sheet away from the mattress, pulling back to fold it into your arms and finally leaving his hard length unattended. Jack’s eyes snap open in a crushing neediness, his displeased but wrecked voice calling after you in a bid to keep you here and he laughs incredulously, “You get back here right now.”

Backing up into the door, your lip caught in your teeth, you reach behind and find the cool handle, offering a cheeky grin before you slip away and murmur, “I’m busy.”

-

A mellow afternoon follows Jack’s disgruntled exit to the fractional post office, stealing a rushed kiss in the corner of the parlour for the mere seconds you were alone together, giddy glances spared through the window on his walk to work. You spend a small segment of your time concocting tea for Mrs. Adler who pours over the payment book, thanking you as she slides a list across the bar; it’s full of all things you know to do without the help of paper and pencil.

“How about that Mr. Daniels?”

Spluttering, you swivel on your heel, unsure of the intention of her question, your eyes mistakenly blowing wide with no answer to fill the subsequent silence. She must know, you worry, she must.

“What about him?” You query, looking down at your apron in no need of smoothing, yet your hands fiddle with the pockets, and her amused scoff scrapes through your uneasy stance.

“My, you’d better sleep well tonight... that man whipped those fools down in a second,” she laughs, flipping the page of the large notebook and scribbling something down with a spotted, shaky hand. 

“He did.” Wiping your face, you conceal a sliver of a smile under your hand when you think of him— ease and cockiness burned down to his big pleading eyes looking up at you for permission. “Thought you disliked him.”

“Well, I could admit we need someone like that around here more often,” she croaks as you pretend to look over the list of laundry, sweeping, cooking, cleaning. The sentiment lands somewhere uncomfortable in your chest— you no more than agree with her and you could never tell her why or how.

“Oh, and dear, the sheriff came by this morning,” she adds, relaying his spiel of reports.

Only the most notable happenings make it over from town to town, lawlessness rendering crime nothing more than irrelevant. It takes a mass robbery, or a mammoth fire, or an offense so deeply doused and coloured red in rage to make the rounds of neighbouring settlements, so when Mrs. Adler shares the spreading news of heightened gang exploits a little ways north, your heart sinks and adopts a painfully heavy sensation.

“He advises to be extra careful,” she finishes with a stern look, “they could be coming here for all we know. Those Statesman men are horrible…”

“Statesman?” you echo her words, scouring the back of your mind to place the familiarity of that name, but she smiles in return to soften your worried brow. Statesmen, a Statesman. You’d read it somewhere, embellished into leather or stitched into the label of a visitor’s coat while tidying.

“I wouldn’t worry too much. If anything, girl, that Daniels boy should be of use.”

A challenge not to snicker, she gives you, when she tells you not to fuss, as if you’ve got the liberty to enjoy the outdoors where a vigilant attitude is required— but Jack is the remedy, you think, eyeing the stray strands of her brittle grey hair twisted up, scrunching your nose.

“Alright, Mrs. Adler,” you agree, passing her through to the laundry closet.

The air is stuffy inside the small, shelved room, where pleasing, cooling, tiny splashes pepper your forearms as you pour the water bucket into one of the tubs, then grabbing the soap, you flump onto the short stool and drag the laundry basket to your side. The first sheet on the pile is the last one you’d taken— Jack’s— carrying his heady and wood-fiery scent now mingled with yours. With a vibration of anticipation up your spine, your thoughts twirl upon your admittedly cruel handling of his need— tonight, you’re surely in for it.

The usual, slowly passing and hot hours fill with inescapable reveries toeing the line of unrealistic: a cloudy day in bed, a sunny evening at the river, clothes discarded to the side. Shaking those heart string-stretching thoughts and trading for a better focus, you hang the wringed sheets on the line as the last blazes of the sun spread over the field, and take a moment to rest your elbows on the log fence at the back of the yard overlooking the vast, lush area. 

Something heavy, once more, tugs at your weary limbs, watching the calm breeze push along the beige blades of plant-life, and you think of Sylvie— her bright mane and soothing demeanor, the rush of riding with her and him. The thrill no longer chased, waiting for you still. There must be a few months worth left of him, two at the least, perhaps enough to soothe your aching heart in seeking more vibrant days. But before too long, you set back on your course of chores, trekking up to tidy the bathing rooms for those coming back from a dirty day.

Jack finds you there an hour later in the open door, kneeling on the floor by the bathing tub, scrubbing away at its already-shiny exterior, and he smiles under the sticky and sweaty clothes, watching the way your body jostles with movement.

“Hey, cruel woman.”

Halting, your head briefly hangs between your shoulders before you sit back on your heels and grin up at him, his weary feet leading him towards you, a set of clean clothes hanging off his arm. His shirt is sheer in some places more than others, namely his chest, damp with muscular effort. 

“Did you have a hard day, Jack?” You question, making big eyes at him from your low spot compared to his tall height, and his face grows slightly stern.

“Oh, darlin’, you know I did,” he kneels, takes your chin in his hand and you find yourself leaning up into his face, mere inches from his lips, entranced by their pouty curve. But he doesn’t kiss you. He pinches your chin harder, a deep pressure as he looks over you, taking in the way you indulgently advance until you’re on hands and knees, caged by his own, staring at him with none of the power you held this morning.

“You oughta continue what you started…” he whispers almost on your lips, never close enough to touch, your eyelids heavily drooping as you look down his torso, leading to his cock.

“Oh,” you sigh, slick pooling where he can’t see or feel it, “Jack, I can…” 

You crawl forward between his spread legs until your nose nudges the material of his pants, resting your weight back on your knees when you reach out for him, but his face is a sinister, knowing grin when steadily rises back up to stand, rocking into his heels.

“Not now, though,” he coos, swiping a damp thumb over your lip, “off you go, little lady.”

“Why—”

Whining involuntarily, you watch while he shrugs off his suspenders and closes his eyes, fluttering back open with a smirk at Mrs. Adler’s distant call for you to prepare dinner.

“That’s why.”

Your mouth hanging open, you roll your eyes, taking his calloused hand as he aids you upward from the hard floor, though he finally gives you a greeting of a peck on the cheek, “Later, angel, you can show me what you’ve been thinkin’ about all day.”

Nudging your body, he sends you off to your chores in a frazzled state and shuts the door with a wink, settling in to wash himself off from the dust and dirt.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so needy, it nearly feels stupid to still have the crushing weight of wanting Jack as you chop ingredients, peek into cupboards, fill plates. It’s even worse when he sits at the table, clean and fresh and irresistibly smooth, chatting in easy conversation with Mrs. Crockett who enjoys his company dearly as she tells him uninteresting stories of her husband. 

He watches your back as you turn about the steps, as you pass along plates to each person, and he brushes his fingers purposely along yours when you arrive at his spot, a gesture to offer his silent token of appreciation. Your breath catches, and his wink sets it free again through a quiet sigh, smiling sweetly for him. He tries not to laugh, you notice, and you stop yourself from touching his shoulder here in front of everyone— namely Mrs. Crockett, who has also made a poor reputation of gossip and a budding friendship with Mrs. Adler who is closest to her in age. The last thing you can manage is a rumour about your little life; by that point you’d be begging Jack to take you with him even before the post office is built, even with so much left to explore with him.

As the chitter-chatter diminishes down to an empty table with empty plates, and the visitors disperse into corners or run off to different buildings— they always come back for dinner to get their money’s worth— you sort out the dried laundry, slipping into the ladies’ rooms to aid with corsets, all with distant thoughts in a place where they shouldn’t be. They never ask about your day so much as they speak of theirs, whether time spent with their sweetheart, telling you how they prefer their things folded, or muttering how much they liked dinner. The last one you take lightly, thanking the ladies in whispers. Now, though, it doesn’t cause as much of an ache in your heart when you listen to their free and happy memories— you think of doing the same with Jack, of asking him and receiving his sweet smile in return, ready if you are.

When you finally sit at your simple vanity, it’s with a powerful sigh that you remove your boots, step out of your clothes, and trade them for your nightgown. You pull the threaded pink ribbon taut into a bow, and look over yourself in the mirror, giddy in your stomach for when the time comes to slip into Jack’s room. Judging by the clock, another half hour would do to be sure everyone has settled in so you can sneak in complete privacy, and it feels less daunting now than it ever did before.

Folding your petticoat to lay the soft cotton on the tabletop, you hear the handle click and turn and you gasp fiercely in response, rising from the chair as Jack all but barrels in, haphazardly shutting the door before swooping you into his arms.

“Oh, my—” you squeal, cut off by a rough kiss that you eagerly return, bombarded with the scent of his soap and shaving cream. You only urge him off with your hands sneaking between your bodies to press on his chest and ask a burning question, his lips not wanting to part from you. It’s a tiny struggle but he eventually gives way, fondly looking down at you as you speak. “Did anyone see you?”

“Hall was empty. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ of you… lost my damn patience,” he croons, plushy lips open on your neck, leaving kisses that bloom into pleasant flourishes of need like ink dipped into water. It’s a new spot that you allow him to explore, bringing your hands up his wide shoulders as you turn around the room together, stepping at random. “Had to keep from touchin’ myself and dreamin’ of you…”

You wrap your arms around his neck, reeling him in closer for a whisper against the shell of his ear.

“You don’t have to dream, Jack, I’m here.”

His breath stutters uncharacteristically and it must be your chance to keep him like this, his pleasure dependent on what you decide to do with him— so you pin your front to his and he grunts, giving a miniscule, testing rut back.

“No more teasin’?” he asks hopefully, sweet brown eyes glowing in the low light of your little lamp. “You weren’t so nice this morning…”

“Oh, Jack, I’m not so sure about that.”

In a mirror of the morning, you slip your hand lower to find his cock hard again, splaying your fingers over its thick length and rubbing over the fabric. He squeezes your waist, digging his thumbs in helplessly as he staves off a groan in a bid to keep what willpower is still left with him, then loses it all when you place a simple kiss to his collarbone, not open or rough or wet— just plain, pressed lips to his skin, and he asks you for more.

“Will you let me touch you this time?” you murmur, urging him backward onto the bed. He slumps over the mattress, eyes trained on your face as he places himself further up with his legs spread, palms sinking into the covers. He swallows thickly when he takes you in: standing over him in the sheer, light fabric of your nightgown, its lace edges bordering the slopes of your body.

“I want you in my mouth,” you continue, lowering yourself to your knees, hands over his own as he shuts his eyes and breathes deep, long breaths, grunting when he feels your fingers working at his buttons. “Think I’ve earned it.”

“You could ask me for anything you want, darlin’... shit—” His thighs tense under your ministrations as you reach in and pull his cock out, the tip of it shining in his own, generous arousal. He looks down from himself to your sparkling eyes, and cups your cheek in his large hand, its smoothness traveling down the curve of your face. “Anything you want.”

His lip twitches, mouth falling delicately open and his eyes shutting once more as you place your tongue flat at the base, licking upward, circling around the head while you watch his face strain and pull, his neck sticking out prominently. He’s gorgeous when you touch him like this, still so fresh and clean from the bath. The warm drips of precum glide slowly on your tongue as you hold it out, then wrap your lips around him, whining when he fists through your hair and cramps his fingers.

“That mouth is just about gonna kill me already,” he rasps, bucking his hips up a smidge to perch himself deeper in your mouth, your hand rising to cover his at the base of your neck. Its heat is dangerous yet satisfying in its revelation of just how affected he is, a tiny spot of sweat swiping from his palm onto your neck.

Blinking up at him, you pull off, wetly sliding over half the length of him before moving back down to take more, feeling it brush against the back of your throat. You keep him there as he squeezes you harder, his spine curling over you and the new sound he makes is just begging to be heard, but he smothers it with a bite of his own lip to quiet it.

“Like that…” he sighs, carefully canting his hips forward as you wrap your fingers around his base, enveloping him and spreading the wetness of your mouth over his entire length.

He glistens like that, shimmering in the low and golden light, fisting at the blanket and your hair, puffing focused breaths every time you take him deeper, longer, sucking him harder.

Up and down, you keep your lips wrapped snugly around his cock, its throbbing heft a pleasurable weight on your tongue, the satisfying hit of the head at your throat.

“Where have you fuckin’ been,” he nearly laughs in disbelief that you’re even here, much less on your knees, much less with your mouth around him.

Pulling off for a deep breath, you trace the edges of your nightgown, eyeing him and his debauched, handsome face as you bring the lacy straps off your arms, leading them from your wrists. “I’ve always been here.” 

The fabric gathers at your waist in a soft pool of cotton and ribbon, your chest bare and level with his cock.

“Do you like that, Jack?” you preen, settling closer to him this time over the hard and truthfully painful floor— you don’t notice it as much when you feel him hitting that spot all the way down your throat.

“You know I do,” he smiles breathlessly, crinkles and that little dimple creasing in his content face. He leans down for a kiss, its nature unlike the urgency of your own mouth wetting his cock— it’s always sweet like he is to you in every other way, lingering there before you lean into the space between his legs, eager.

“I wanted you all day,” you coo, running a thumb over his tip, a saturated kiss placed there before you put him in your mouth for a brief suck, managing to keep him inside for a few short seconds. “I should have felt so tired after what you did to me, but all I could think of was this.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, he then lets it go in a gravelly sigh as he holds your bobbing head in his hands, spanning the sides of your face. Your forehead brushes his soft stomach as you push down, hollowed cheeks hugging every inch of him and he jolts, driving himself the smallest bit further, moaning at the tight and wet sensation of you. You pump him, looking so falsely innocent between his legs, your chest and shoulders bare for him to admire, peeking out of the fine gown.

“Keep goin’ darlin’, I’m gonna fill that pretty mouth up... know you want it down your throat, bet you thought about havin’ my cum drippin’ from your mouth all day, too, hm?”

Licking the tip and rubbing him faster, you nod fervently, opening wide in a stretch to finish him off with firm squeezes and strokes, his breaths now raggedly rough from above you every time he hits that spot. Your mouth is hot on his skin and he warns you he’s going to cum soon, he’s going to fill your mouth up nice and good, and you shut your eyes tight in concentration, focused on the thick feel of him sliding in and out between your lips.

“Wanna see you when I fill you baby doll, c’mere n’ look at me.” Jack’s fingers brush the underside of your chin, and you strain to look upward before you slide your hand over his slick cock. He tenses up by another degree, his chest and forehead damp, throat straining as he swallows thickly. 

A final squeeze and he cums all over your extended tongue, the milky liquid sliding off and onto your chest as he moans through gritted teeth, dazed as you are as you both watch it drip all over your exposed half. You swallow what remains in your mouth, letting your jaw drop to show him your now clean slate.

Bending into you and still panting, he smiles, streaking his thumb down your chin to gather up what’s left, guiding it into your open mouth. Heart racing, you take it in, your enthusiastic glow causing his face to soften.

His gaze drifts south to linger on your glimmering chest, pressing his palm flat and firm into the slight pool of it. He paints you with it, spreading his cum all over each breast with a clear sheen from the separation, special attention granted to each nipple with a flick of his wet thumb. Its initial warmth has cooled and with it lingers a soothing cover over your front as you lay your cheek over his knee, toying with the worn laces of his boots.

“Now… how to thank my darlin’ girl and her perfect fuckin’ mouth…” Jack wonders aloud as he cups your cheeks in his hands and puts a contrasting, innocent kiss to your forehead.

Grinning up at him and placing your hands over his, you tell him that’s all you wanted to give him, all you needed was to finally feel him in your mouth.

“Well,” he whispers, “I wanna show you what I was thinkin’ about all day long.”

The spark in your eyes must be a blinding one, his hands gliding over the slope of your body as you work yourself back onto your feet, your knees throbbing and sore. Wincing, you balance yourself on his broad shoulders, glancing down to notice his eyes not relieved of their dark hunger.

“Jack, you’re…”

“Not done, angel,” he finishes for you, and that’s when you feel it, the slick dripping past your core to spread slightly down your squeezing thighs. He pushes his sleeves up as the corner of his lip tugs upward too, straight teeth glinting the same as his eyes.

“Your turn, then,” you murmur, parting his hair through your fingers. It falls back into place, his pillowy and gentle lips finding yours as he stands with you, always chasing you, waltzing you backward until your ass bumps against the thick windowsill.

“I was choppin’ wood, thinkin’ of settin’ you right here,” he confesses lowly, ensuring the curtains are drawn completely open with a quick swipe of his hands over the gauzy lengths previously covering the glass, “thinkin’ of fuckin’ you on my fingers like this.”

You situate yourself properly on the sill and he steps back, taking a comically focused once-over of your seated body, but the desire is still so thick it doesn’t even bring you to laugh when he hurriedly comes back to you. He spreads your thighs wide, his palms a fiery heat that couldn’t be further from where you want it.

Tugging at his collar, you reel him in to place an open kiss just under his ear. “Give it to me how you want.”

The glass cools the staggering temperature on your skin as he knocks you into it, your back sticking to its chilly surface in the midst of his swirling breaths, ghosting the edges of your shoulders before he hikes your thighs up higher to his waist.

“You ready for me?” he murmurs with a husky voice, and it’s a powerful shock from your head to your toes, seeing how easily he’s worked back up to needing you as he lowers a hand to your core. His fingers part you, a slick and effortless slip through your folds to your entrance. “Darlin’... you’re soakin’ my hand already. Did suckin’ my cock do all this to your sweet little cunt?”

A hushed, restrained sound tears from you and is quieted by his mouth covering yours when he rubs his calloused fingers over your clit, rasping those low words sweetly into you, nipping your bottom lip between his teeth as the digits travel lower. The arousal dripping from your cunt makes that first slide so easy, Jack bottoming out to his knuckles with a soft sigh. His stomach nearly touches your own still covered by the bunched nightgown and he pauses there, a reassuring squeeze to your side and then a smooth gracing of his free hand to hold your thigh tight to himself.

“This is where I’ve wanted to be,” he confesses, his nose drawing a line from your shoulder, delicately down to your chest as he bends and swipes his tongue broadly over your sensitive nipple. The signals from your brain to your muscles are jumbled now, feeling the heat of his wet tongue tasting the cum on your chest— it’s out of your control when you arch your back into him and whine, when your fingers tangle into his hair and tug.

He responds in a groan, licking across your skin to your unattended nipple which he suckles on gently, lapping at it. Jack curls his two thick fingers before straightening out to kiss you fleetingly on your lips; he parts and watches your eyes intently, a stray curl falling to hang between his brows.

“So full already, hm?” he teases, his thumb swiping slow patterns on your clit, and you lean further back into the glass with a pant, its surface no longer able to cool you down.

“Yes,” you manage to respond in a gasp as he grants a second, deeper hit, a slight slapping sound causing you both to hug each other tighter and chuckle.

“Tight, sweet thing,” he groans, extended curls and strokes stretching you wholly around his hand, “take my fingers just right. Is that it, darlin’, were you made for me to fill you?”

“Mm,” you suck in sharp breaths, “mhm, you fill me up, Jack, you fill me up so good.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, and his chin hooks onto your shoulder, digging into it hard as he holds you with one toned arm snaking around your waist. Like this, your damp chest brushes his, his fingers pump and work you open another smidge wider as he pushes in, grinds his palm against your clit, pulls his fingers out a fraction of the way. The motions of his hips against his own wrist are gentle, unhurried for now, having already cum into your slack mouth.

With the flat of his free palm caressing your back through soft strokes, he draws his lips back and forth over the curve of your neck.

“You know what I see?” he asks, urging his knuckles deeper in the hardest plunge he's given you tonight, an agonizingly fiery touch to your clit. “Men, walkin’ around all dumb— could see me fuckin’ you right here on my hand if they’d just look up— shit, they got no clue I’m feelin’ the wettest little pussy, huh?”

“Fuck, Jack,” your nails dig into the lean and muscular bulge of his biceps as he keeps you upright against the glass, your thighs squeezing him so close he can hardly fuck you anymore— he just rubs and grinds his hand against you while remaining far inside your aching pussy, soaking his already drenched fingers with more slick.

“And only I’m gonna watch you cum,” he adds in a grunt, working himself into you with every last drop of energy he’s saved, his soft moans and sharp teeth spurring you closer to coming all over his perfect fingers. You might have gone longer if not for the irreversible, desperate need for him that sucking his cock had instilled in you— had you nearly dripping onto the floor, your body left unimaginably sensitive that each time he brushes up against you now, you dig deeper into his skin. He likes it though, and it makes him move with a crazed edge, his moans transforming into snarls.

“Only you…” you echo, starting to grind with him yourself, rolling into and meeting his short, fast thrusts, every muscle tensing and straining and it’s so close, almost there—

“There you go, doll, can feel you squeezin’ me so tight… cum on my hand, fuckin’ soak me, c’mon…”

“Jack, Jack I’m gonna—” Urgently, you tap at his shoulder with wide eyes and worried brows as you feel it start to happen, knowing how close you are to crying— your nails dig into his shoulders so intensely when you cum, jaw dropped and eyes shut and he makes a wincing yet completely pleased noise into your mouth; it’s cruel. You manage not to make a peep at the cost of losing large breaths, and it makes your orgasm all the more intense: light headed, woozy, and tingling numbness reaching the length of your body.

“Sweeter than fuckin’ honey when you do that,” he smiles widely, until his mouth drops fully open at the way you hug his hand inside from coming so hard around him. Your slick gathers between your thighs and you still can’t breathe, his face buried into the spot under your jaw as he pulls them out of you, dragging the pads up to your clit while the rest of it spreads throughout your folds. He stares down at it, at the wetness dripping and glistening from your core, and he groans again, blinking slowly.

Placing his palms on the sill by either side of your trembling figure, he hums, your smile against his skin buzzing at his insatiable drive, how he’d fucked your mouth and your pussy with such short rest, feeling the damp hair at the back of his neck. He drops his head down as an offering and you take him in a gentle cradle, kissing his forehead as he’d done to you while he nestles. He looks up and back down, waiting for another, your fingers smoothing the unruly hair from his face.

“Hell, if I don’t wanna fuck that pretty pussy every night till I die,” he exhales, another glance at his wet fingers, dropping a kiss to your collarbone.

“Oh, Jack,” you laugh, your heels hitting the wall underneath you, “if only you were here for that long.” 

His face scrunches a little in confusion before his lips curve, “How many times do I have to remind you I ain’t leavin’ so soon?”

“As many times as it takes,” you whisper, fingers scratching down his arms, his own dipping into your cunt again without a warning, “fuck—”

“Yeah, baby doll,” he croons, “I got somethin’ to prove to you still?”

You nod with a greedy smirk and he retracts his fingers, taking them into his mouth after drawing a line between your breasts to taste your mingled releases, moaning in your ear. “Go n’ get on the bed. You’re gonna ride my face.”

A shiver chills your spine, mainly at the way his voice has dropped a miraculous third time, his hand landing a light swat on your ass when you pass him, shaky legs taking you toward the mattress. He follows to lay on his back, perpetually pleased with himself, arms outstretched and beckoning you forward. You crawl up to him and you can feel your own cum streaking your thighs as you move, soon beside his large body, and he raises his brows impatiently, “Well go on, sugar, I wanna taste some more of that.”

Stretching his neck every which way, his eyes crinkle as he grins between your thighs while you throw one over his shoulder and his arms fall behind him, fingers searching for yours until he laces them together, squeezing.

“You’re not tired yet, old cowboy?” you tease lightly, the force of it lost when he gives a broad swipe of his tongue and moans yet another time, indulgently, swallowing the remnants of your previous release.

“I ain’t ever gonna tire of this,” he replies, another lick from your entrance to your clit, such an easy slip of the muscle, your sensitivity dialed up too many extra notches. His brows knit together in effort, rough cheeks pleasantly scratching on your skin when he moves his head side to side, tongue hanging out of his mouth and edging with a perfect pressure all over your sensitive bud.

“I’d hope not,” you exhale, grinding your hips over his wet mouth until his grip moves to your thighs to prevent you from moving. His eyes look up at you keenly as he closes his lips around your clit and sucks, your head tipping in silent rapture as you take it all for him without the relief of motion. 

“We go real nice together,” he grumbles into your slick center. Tightening the hold of your thighs, he laves his tongue all over you in focused circles, faster, with just enough force for your legs to start shaking around his handsome face, for another gush of arousal to spread over his swollen lips. All that’s left for you to handle it is to scream it out, how good he makes you feel, how precious, but the house is so silent and only you can hear the slick sounds of his mouth on your clit— he won’t even let you rub yourself over him. You can only bite your lip and hold your breath, yet little puffs and moans sneak out when he does something unforeseen, like a single bite on your thigh or a gentle nip to challenge you— it’s all on purpose and easily noticed by his gratified face.

He tugs your clit a short, miniscule distance and lets it go, shaking his head when you mope over the loss of contact.

“Are you tryin’ for me, sugar?”

“You’re being tough on me,” you whine, shimmying further up his body to regain his lips that are brightly shining.

“If I ain’t tough then it ain’t right,” he whispers, “stay still and quiet for me and I’ll take you out again.”

He tips his head down and forward, swiping his prominent nose to spread you further open, but you don’t even consider the promise of a gift, your focus on the return of his soaked tongue to your throbbing core, biting hard on your lip to quell the need to cry.

“Is my darlin’ gonna come? You gonna cum all over my face? Gimme another one, dolly.” His mouth latches back onto your clit and you can’t think, much less form an answer in your blank head where all you see is white, or maybe blinding stars, or just plain nothingness as you let go, his moustache wet with you, his lips dripping.

By some miracle, the scream you fend off becomes so high pitched in your throat that nothing makes it out of you save for the helpless cry of, “Jack!” as you tremble around his cheeks.

“Yes,” he grunts, and thank goodness it’s muffled by your soaking core; your fingers finally escape his hold to grip at his hair with a fierce, unforgiving tug, and that softer sound fills the room again while your body freezes up and you cum harder this time, covering him, coating him. He grumbles something again, but it’s nothing you could hope to make out in the crushing wave of pleasure that hits you— the light sensation does not leave you, though the shaking eases off as Jack places a tender kiss to your clit, and you jolt at just that velvet brush, his eyes turning sympathetic. You breathe deep, slumping with great exhaustion and the dazed happiness of having him in your room now as you lift your thigh from his body and he leans his head up to grant a quick kiss while it slips away from him.

“Knew you could be quiet,” he smiles under the shine of your second release, resting his arms open over the blanket to welcome you into them.

“As if you don’t make it hard.” Huffing, it’s with a reciprocal smile that you crawl back to him, nearly toppling over on your way with the weakness of his own power against your body, and he chuckles at you, not shying away from his joyous teasing when you throw him a half-glare.

“Did I wear you out again?” he questions, guiding you into his side, turning his body over yours to swipe his tangy tongue over your bottom lip.

Whimpering, it turns into a cheerful giggle as he drops pecks over your nightgown, wrapping his finger around the tail of the ribbon. 

“You just keep going, don’t you, Jack?” you cup his face in your hands, and it’s now that he adopts a sheepish expression, turning his eyes away to tilt his neck and kiss your stomach once more.

“Until you ask me to stop, darlin’.” He lends two more kisses, one to each breast, and then gathers the straps of your nightgown from the pooling of fabric underneath your chest, tenderly helping your arms through the holes. You admire him quietly as you sit up to ease the gesture, letting his fingers guide the intricate lace edges back to your shoulders. He pats the cotton down to smooth it, your thumb stroking over his left eyebrow. His hands pry under you to wrap his arms around your middle, his cheek resting over your belly as you scratch through his dark hair. 

“I think you’re softer than you realize,” you whisper, twirling a lock around your finger and he peeks up, the apples of his cheeks rising in a twinkling smile.

“I can shoot a gun a million times but I sure don’t like it more than kissin’ you,” Jack coos, tickling up your sides and swatting away your protesting hands until you make an involuntary squeak and his eyes widen, hurriedly covering your mouth with his own. You titter over his smooth lips, his weight pinning you as he opens his mouth, taking more. “I’d think I’d have sold my soul to the devil to end up here with you if I didn’t know any better.”

You let the next bubbling ripple of affection take over you when he whispers that with his gleaming eyes, and you kiss him three more times, each slower than the last.

He rests there for some time, indulging in the carding of your fingers over his scalp, and he ensures you’ve drifted off before he rises in search of a cloth. He finds a green one folded by your petticoat, his fingers briefly dragging across its white lace before he dips the cloth in the small dish of water left beside it. He crawls back up beside you, lazily yet with careful attention guiding it under your slip and over your breasts, relieving you of the stickiness. You stir but don’t wake— his touch is too light, yet still unlike a feather— he cleans you off, sets the cloth back in its spot, and resumes his position, nestled up next to you.

-

Sneaking into Jack’s room— or him into yours— becomes a habitual routine after the goodnight click of Mrs. Adler’s door, though you often find yourself with an early visitor with eyes too bright and a needy little grin on his face. It follows his giddy lips on your neck hours before in scarce moments of isolation from other guests, or after he’s stared too long across the bar, and to ease the tension, he’ll ride to take Sylvie to stretch her legs, a sympathetic look on his face at the door knowing you can’t join.

And he wears you out. Nightly. A simmering threat to your timeliness in the morning that you can’t let go of. A single time, he’d taken the sheets with him in a rapid roll onto the floor as Mrs. Adler knocked and knocked outside, calling for you to rise, until she barged in and the thump had to be blamed on yourself, standing in your disheveled chemise. Her shifty eyes become less of a fear in your head and more of a laughing stock, though not as much as Jack was in his stupid course of action to thump on the floor behind the side of the mattress, taking the blankets, too.

His dignity is not lost, though, each time you press on him about it— his grip tightens over your thighs as you straddle his lap, feeling the impression of his leather settling into your skin.

A rare clump of clouds settles over town the following week, lingering long enough to darken this evening further and forcing an early lighting of the lamps inside, a cozy glow over the hectic and crazed state of the bar.

“Let’s not slack, dearie,” Mrs. Adler sings in her urgently high-pitched voice as you handle the treacherous beast of the card game hours, handling too many requests for the strongest liquor from the cabinet, working your wrists as you open new bottles and impatient sighs crumble out of overworked throats.

Jack glances at her, a rapid flick of his angry eyes as he sets his glass of whiskey down, furrowing his brows in obvious disagreement with her words.

“She’s doin’ fine,” you hear him grumble, and you don’t have it in you to turn and face him to offer your surely-silencing glare, and without it he continues, “think we could offer a little patience.”

Chest fluttering, you shut your eyes with a bothersome huff, setting your hands flat over the counter as you wait for Mrs. Adler’s response, and the other men waiting at the dining table chat over things well beyond you, another fleeting mention of the Statesmen— but Jack remains silent along with her, and you can already picture the way he must be maintaining a hard stare at the old woman to leave her increasingly frazzled.

“My girl does this every day,” she states primly, blocking his view of your back with her own body after an uncoordinated waddle, “you keep out of it.”

Jack scoffs, soft but pointed, the wood groaning under the slide of his glass as he moves it aside, “If you cared to notice, ma’am—”

Spinning on your boot, away from the assortment of glasses set over the counter in their stage of finishing touches, you raise a hand, his first name almost slipping out until you choke on the unspoken word, widened eyes earning a mirrored expression from Jack, “It’s alright, Mr. Daniels,” you soothe, and his smirk is much too telling in his amusement of your spluttering, that you’d called him the old, proper name.

Mrs. Adler huffs a victorious breath as she checks over the full and heavy tray, granting approval while you giggle at Jack’s silly face made behind her back, followed by a wink of his eye. 

He closes his eyes as Mrs. Adler finally limps off into her study— what she achieves in there he does not know— and watches you with affection and a warming dose of admiration in his stomach as you handle the tray, setting down shining crystal glasses on the table, a soft smile on your face as the youngest card player offers his thanks. They rarely ever do.

“You look real nice,” he drawls as you round the counter, his elbows sliding along the surface as he leans in, all sparkling eyes and teeth with his wide grin as he follows your steps. “I think I’d like to get my hands on—”

His words fall away to a whisper as you shake your head in feigned annoyance, the laughter stealing your breath as you lean opposite him, taking in the sly look on his face and the pull of his shirt across his shoulders. His hand reaches for yours, tentatively, and you’re powerless against the sweet touch on your fingers as he traces them out, pulling your palm into a bed of his two hands. 

You watch as his eyes set on the random patterns he draws, eyelashes curling against his face every time he blinks, your conscious mind soon oblivious to your placement in relation to the large group at the dining table— but it doesn’t matter. They’re as absorbed in their gambling as you are in his focused touch and feel, your heart an obnoxious flutter when he smiles up at you, a perfect mix of kind and sultry darkness. 

“I’d like to get my hands on you,” he murmurs, those repeated words spoken lower this time and with a twinkle, raising the back of your hand to his lips. A gentle press, your eyes locked together in a soft gaze to match, and he gives you back your hand as the spell of slowed-time is broken by a shocking round of cheering from the group behind you both.

With a subdued grin, you ease yourself away from the magnetic pull of your lips to his, “You’ve always got your hands on me.”

“And in,” he huffs, stifling a snicker at the fifth roll of your eyes today, watching the ends of your tied apron’s ribbon swing around over the length of your skirt. 

“You’d better find something to do in the meantime, or I’ll be asking Mrs. Adler to send you off herself.”

Jack shudders in a fake paddy of fear, the miniscule shakes of his body diminishing the sooner he realizes the severity of your words, and he merely chuckles. “Why’d you want to get rid of me?”

The pleading pull of his face and the wide and warm eyes he gives are somehow not enough to stop you from gesturing your head towards the pile of dirty dishes from dinner, waiting beside the basin. “You’re distracting.”

“Sweetpea, I’m ‘fraid that’s what you’ve got yourself caught up in,” Jack rests his chin in his palm, eyeing the clearing weather outside, “if you insist on woundin’ me, I think I’ve got a horse who needs to go for a ride, and a little lady who’ll have to join us next time…”

“I’ll see you later, Jack,” you whisper, rounding the edge of his ear with your fingers, easing his hair back into place and he adopts a light blush— softer things always more efficient in pausing his heartbeat than harsher things— and he grabs his hat left to the side of him, placing it over his head and bidding you a caring goodbye, “Miss me, darlin’.”

-

Once the room has cleared at last, leaving you in that familiar spot with soapy hands, sore feet, and a wandering mind, you arrange the wet dishes to dry, stacking each on top of the other with meticulous attention. You dry your hands on the fabric of your apron, rough cotton soaking up the water, your back leaning into the hard edge of the bar behind you. The strain in your neck grows sharper as you push your head back, groaning, willing away the next few hours until you can put your feet to rest upon Jack’s lap. 

And at the thought of him, a whistle from the exterior shoots your stream of mental pictures down as your head whips to look out the window, and there he is— Jack, thighs spread wide over Sylvie’s back as he urges her to stop, his eyes straining to find you through the window. Stomach twisting, you make a speedy trip to the stash of berries hidden away, and you pull a handful of them into your apron’s pocket before sparing the parlour a thorough peek and slipping out the front door.

It’s not loud enough for you to make out, but it must be Jack’s voice in a baby soft tone as he tells Sylvie what sounds like “there she is,” with a pat between her perky ears and a smile towards you. 

“Hello,” you grin, stepping to the edge of the porch where you meet the two of them, shamelessly devouring the way he sits tall upon her in the dying sunlight clear of clouds, dark clothes, dark hair, dark eyes, a bandana hugging his neck under his glistening throat. “Back so soon?”

“It was her idea,” Jack pokes, leaning back in the saddle as Sylvie adjusts her hooves into place over the dust and sparse blades of wheatgrass. “Suppose I had to lead her here, though…”

With a hand gliding along her wide neck, you watch his smile only grow in size as he watches you gather the berries from your pocket and throw a quizzical look his way, to which he nods enthusiastically, leaning forward again to watch and guide.

You call her name softly, approaching her from a better angle, and she makes an odd pattern with the movement of her head before she digs into your offered palm of treats, her wide mouth a great tickle on your skin that you try not to flinch at.

“Nice girls,” Jack whispers, swiping his hand over Sylvie’s shoulder, then turning his attention to you. “No more flak from the lady, I’m hopin’?”

“No, haven’t seen her since,” you giggle, “you know, Jack, that was kind what you did, but I am still fine.” 

Sylvie chomps down the rest of your stash of berries, licking the leftover juices off your palm as you gasp, retracting your arm, and Jack extends his hand far across to you in a warm beckoning. You give him the dry one and he laughs when he notices, “I ain’t afraid of no horse’s mouth,” steering you around to where he’s sat on the saddle.

“You’re not even afraid of Mrs. Adler,” you say bluntly, resting your laced hands over the meat of his thigh and then your chin on top, and Jack stares down at your widened eyes, his chest stuttering with a slightly choked breath.

“I came here to see you, darlin’, to tell you somethin’.” Running his thumb over your hand, he starts to lean his body down, your own straightening for his lips to meet your ear in a warm breath, sending ice down your spine and a melting heat between your thighs.

He waits for your prompt, his radiating need causing your posture to wither as you slant up and into him, “What is it?”

Whatever upward curve your lips adopted seconds before falls away as your eyes close, that heat between your thighs now wetter, your grip on his leg tight enough to pinch.

“I’m gonna take you out again tonight, gonna lay you in the grass and fuck you dumb, listenin’ to you whine loud as you can.”

He’s utterly pleased with the visible, hitching breath you can no longer take in, your chest pausing in its stunted passing, and he straightens up his back again to look down at you with his face shadowed under his hat. “Ain’t that somethin’ old girl, the little lady is speechless…” Jack coos to the horse and she puffs, followed by another pat of her hoof on the ground, and his grin is a mix of genuine and egotistical happiness.

“Jack,” you purr, all bothered and wobbly-knees, a helpless look in your eye as you tug the looped rope, and he prepares to ride back off. He doesn’t partake in your pleading this time, instead giving a squeeze of his legs over Sylvie’s back.

“Same place, darlin’,” he calls, “I expect you.” 

A backward glance and a tip of his hat as courtesy— or to make up for his foolish teasing— and his figure dies off in the gunpowder dust behind him and his girl, his jacket the same one you’d worn your first time away. 

-

It’s cool and dark the next time you step out onto the porch, carefully shutting the door behind you, locking it with your key. You rub your hands over the sides of your arms as you creep over the wood, peeking past the pillars before descending the three short steps. Same place, he’d said, so you set off in the direction of the stables, bathed in the soft light of the spaced lamp posts, the same exhilarating rush as the first time bubbling head to toe. 

“Ever heard of a sweet little maid ‘round here?” Jack’s happy rumbling sounds just behind you, turning into laughter at the yelp you let out, its sound squeaky and fearful until he catches you by the waist, pulling your back into his chest to sway your body around aimlessly. “Works for a Mrs. Adler, prettiest face you ever saw…”

An endeared giggle falls out of you, mouth covered immediately by your hand when he comes to place his chin on your shoulder, his fingers pressing tightly to your middle. His clothing feels rough by your neck, unlike anything else you’ve felt him wearing against you, but his cheek is soft and freshly shaven, his lips hungrily kissing behind your ear.

“Oh, I’m not so sure I have…” you murmur, allowing yourself to sink backward into his promising support, and his hum is sweet into your skin when you say so, arms squeezing you just enough for your feet to lift from the ground. 

“She’s got angel eyes,” he whispers, a finger coming to trail down your cheek as he lets you back down, until his hand cups your chin, turning your head sideways to capture your lips in a deep, swelling kiss. Your own hand rises to mirror his gesture, knees suddenly like water with their wobbly weakness, and the ball of your foot scrapes over the dust as he tugs you even closer, tasting your lips. 

“That might ring a bell,” you smile when you finally part, stroking your thumb over his jaw. He likes the way it feels, tilting himself further into your light grip of his face. The world surrounding you will never be the same level of interest when he stands before you— a daydream of an outing only seems as sweet if he’s there. A guidance, of sorts, a protector.

Roaming your eyes over him, a surprised gasp follows that welcoming kiss when you notice his top half covered in a navy blue poncho, its edges finished with white tassels and the wool adorned with white lines making intricate patterns over the length and width of it.

“Where have you been hiding this from me?” you simper, picking up the edge of it to feel the slightly scratchy material. He grins, weight shifting to one foot with a cocked hip, hands resting at the base of his suspenders underneath.

“Hidin’ it?”

“You’ve always got that jacket on,” you murmur, leaning upward, grabbing his face in an internal fit of fondness at seeing him covered in the blanket-like garment, giving him a harsher kiss that surprises him enough to nearly stumble backwards. He gains his balance, beaming against your mouth as he steadies the both of you, the world returning.

“You sure keep me on my toes, little lady,” he breathes, brows raised in bashfulness that you forget he has stored in that cocky brain. “Don’t you stop.”

Humming, your hand falling to rest on his chest as you recall more private contexts to his last words, you notice he wears a cross-body leather satchel underneath the poncho. “What have you got in there?”

“I can’t be full of surprises if you wanna make me spill ‘em all,” he teases, pushing his nose into yours, “come on, just you n’ me tonight.”

With your fingers laced together, Jack leads you through the familiar field to an unfamiliar spot at the top of a climbing hill, large rocks worsening the upward trek under the minimal light.

His hands find the backs of your thighs as he helps you over the last hump and your frustrated huff gets lost in your throat when you realize his hands are helping you up under your skirt instead of over.

“Jack,” you guffaw, using your biceps to push up and over the hard surface and he plays dumb behind you, a deep chortling following as you roll over to the flat space of dry grass above it. Looking ahead you notice a small gathering of wood placed in a circle around the center of the clearing in the trees while Jack rolls up next to you, much more gracefully with what must be years of practice.

He shares a sideways glance with you, “What?” 

His pouty lips drag downward in his falsely innocent question, your eyes rolling without annoyance but with affection. He grabs your hand again, tugging you near the woodpile and he reaches into the satchel, revealing a box of matches in his palm.

“Is this what you did earlier?” you ask, a bewildered softness easing over your shoulders, and he nods with a grin.

“Sylvie n’ I came here to get it ready.”

Sliding the box open, he strikes the match against the rough side of the cover sleeve and the spark ignites a smoking, small flame that he holds to a coil of waxed thread under the arranged sticks and wood. It catches on and flourishes upward, sprinkling tiny sparks that rise then fall by Jack as he recoils, standing back up to his feet.

“How’s that?” he looks at you, pulling you into his warm side, your fingers instinctively wrapping around a tassel. You raise your other hand to hover over the fire, its heat so pleasant and lively on your skin and you look back at him with the same fondness as always for his generous gifts, that might not even be considered a gift to anyone else but you.

“Thank you, Jack.” On your tiptoes, you place a kiss on his cheek filled with all the words you can’t think to say— it’s only a campfire, and to you, it holds all his care, burning there.

“There’s more,” he whispers, and his fingers rise to touch where your lips had just been, then he looks to them and you, smiling. “Said you wished you could run,” he starts, pointing to an old, battered tin can sitting atop a tree stump several feet away, “reckon there’s a few things you’ll need to learn first.”

From underneath the wool, he pulls out one of his revolvers and it shines in the flickering fire, freshly polished. He extends his hand, your own hesitantly touching it’s handle, cupping the barrel with the other as you slowly hold it on your own.

“Jack, I really don’t know about—”

“Careful,” he coos, circling back to stand behind you and placing his hands on your hips, he helps you adjust your grip with the beginning of his lesson whispered into your ear, his hands gentle as they cover yours. “Two hands.”

“I’m not sure I’m the gun slinging type,” you whisper nervously, your palms becoming clammy just handling the weapon, and you remember when its silver glint was pointed at Mr Porter, under its power.

“Always assume a gun’s loaded,” he continues, aiding you in extending your arms out, the aim at the can improving as you go. “Feet apart.”

With the toe of his boot on the inside of your ankle, he pushes your feet further apart until shoulder-width, and your shoe slides over the dry grass as you suck in a deep breath at the physical order. 

“Hold it tighter,” he whispers next, ensuring your fingers are hugging the grip tightly, your other hand cupping the trigger guard firmly. “Don’t leave your finger on the trigger unless you’re aimed and ready.” 

Jack is rasping now, a growing hardness on your ass from watching you handle his own weapon with determination and he pinches your hips, inciting a gasp as you try to keep your arms steady.

“The cylinder's full,” he adds, “you hit the can and I’ll make good on my promise.”

With the shot of arousal that comes after his words and the reminder of his promise to fuck you hard over the grass, it’s too easy to convince yourself that you’ll miss every shot.

“Won’t somebody hear it?” you question, turning your head as far as you can and he hums thoughtfully, pinching you softer.

“It’s luck if you hear a gunshot from a distance,” Jack soothes. And it hits you, that when Mr. Porter and Mr. Bryant started shooting blindly in the house, that those were the closest bullets had ever been to you— and here, you hold them in your palms.

“Go on, sugar, knock it over and I’ll fuck you right by this fire.”

A whine escapes you before you can aim it again, the grip even sweatier than before, the fire merely a glint now as you focus on the target tin.

Locking your grip around the handle, your pointers steadying the direction, you shut one eye, then the other to test the placement, and you pull back the hammer with a stretch of your thumb.

“I’m scared,” you breathe as your arms remain pointed forward, and Jack nods, applying pressure to your shoulders with his palms.

“I’ll keep you steady. S’okay if you miss.” Jack rubs some of the tension away, your arms growing tired from holding them up as you make one last adjustment. The jolt when you pull the trigger is more powerful than you’d expected, and Jack keeps you still as your body reacts to the sharp sound and the full shock of it. The bullet only just skims the side of the can, a tinkling sound following the jarring shot from the barrel.

“Fuck,” Jack breathes, his eyes wide and his smile too, when he looks from your near-shot to your frightened face turning into confidence. He throws his hat to the side, smoothing his hand through his hair before bending slightly behind you, “that was fuckin’ close, darlin’. Go again.”

His tone is pure excitement as you shake off the last lingering threads of apprehension, and you aim again, not a one inch difference from your first shot, pulling the hammer down a second time.

You place your pointer over the solid trigger and Jack’s breath hitches as he waits and watches intently, his hands still supporting your shoulders. This time, when your upper body jostles back from the force, the shot is farther off but still close, hitting the bark where a small explosion of wood chips scatter to the grass and you startle at the cracking noise, casting a worried look to Jack.

“Keep tryin’,” he soothes, cuddling his cheek to the side of your neck as he cozies up, and you’re certain it’s not the best condition for a shooting lesson, the middle of your thighs gathering slick and your palms more nervous sweat. With a deep breath, you stretch your arms out once more, muscles pulling up tight as you adjust your feet, your eyesight on the tin can reflecting the flames of the little campfire.

“That’s it,” Jack whispers as you touch your finger to the hammer, “focus.”

Scoffing, you settle your aim, determined to ignore the way he’s still pressing up against you.

“You’re doin’ great,” his voice scratches just before you pull against the trigger’s resistance and the bullet releases, harder it feels like, and pierces the tin with an incredibly loud metallic pang, sending it fast off the stump. Although you’re not too far from it, you don’t trust it yet; looking back down at the weapon in your hand and then to him, his smile already turns smug. It’s a surprise to hit it at the same time that it’s not— luck or natural talent, you don’t think you’ll ever find out. He shakes his head with pride dripping all over, crushing you into his side with a tense squeeze of his arm, your neck fitting in the bend of his elbow.

“That’s too quick,” you breathe in modesty that Jack tells you to shush away, as your disbelieving eyes fall back on the tree stump, tin can-less. “I wasn’t far away enough.”

“Come on, darlin’.” He disembarks, jogs to the stump, picks up the can behind it. A hole burns through the center on both sides. “Still shot it on the third try.”

When he arrives at your feet again, you peer down at the silver gun in your hold. Struggling to accept your own accuracy, you slowly hand it back to him.

“It'll be harder next time,” he purrs, sliding it back into its holster pocket, “but I think you’ll make the most charmin’ gunfighter in the whole damn world.”

“That’s your title,” you smile, brushing the dark hair from his forehead, curling your fist into the wool draped over him. “And the most handsome, too.”

Jack’s chest puffs out against yours as he preens at your softly-spoken compliment, the tone of his hum pitched in a questioning way to urge you on to continue.

“I’d rather like to learn more about that lasso,” you say instead, fingering where it’s attached to his hip, and he looks at you through his eyelashes, closing his hand around the one fisted in his poncho.

“Hell, if I taught you the ropes I doubt you’d let me out of your room for a whole week, darlin’. We’d better work up to that…”

“Oh well,” you tease, perching yourself up to level your lips with his ear, “you’re too soft on me to be my teacher anyway.”

“Too soft?” He raises his brows, eager to know, causing you to step back as he advances on you.

“Too easy. I ought to shoot that can three more times from ten more feet away just to be sure I’ve learned.”

Jack lays the thick blanket next to the crackling fire after pulling it out of the satchel, motioning for you to come.

“Sugar, I’ll show you rough,” he grumbles, dragging you down to the blanket with him, your chest thumping square on his when you land, a stunted breath into his mouth. His promise, listenin’ to you whine as loud as you can, returns to you now as he holds the back of your neck and opens his lips to brush yours, nipping your lower lip to earn the first wince.

“Don’t disappoint me,” you taunt, landing yourself rolled over and pinned under his heavy weight as he lifts the poncho from his head and drapes it over your bodies, hidden and warm together as you share the fiery heat of yourselves and the physical fire beside you.

“I’d hate nothin’ more than to disappoint you.” He keeps his eyes trained on your face as his fingers creep up your leg, a soft ghosting until he reaches the stark wetness compared to your dry skin everywhere but your core and he’s already groaning at just the sensation of your slick covering his fingers. “Think I could fill you right now, hm? Soakin’ me so fast…”

“I need you to fuck me as hard as you can,” you demand, your head tipping back against the ground underneath the blanket, heat accumulating in your own makeshift tent of the dark poncho. His fingers twitch over your clit as he watches your face twist in effort to get your last coherent thoughts out, “This is where I can cry.”

“Jesus,” his head falls into your shoulder and he rubs his cock on your thigh, covered by his trousers. He’s hard and thick, just as he was watching you shoot his gun, and he lifts your skirt higher, bunching the fabric at your waist. “You always get what you ask for from me.”

Blindly searching with your fingers, you find the buttons of his trousers and pull them open, carefully taking his cock out, the tip leaking generously onto your skin. You spread it for him though it runs out quickly, but your own burning arousal is enough for the two of you as he settles himself closer, his hair flopping out of place. His moustache brushes against your temple when he spreads your legs wider, a soothing slide of your skin over the blanket before you feel his cock running through your slick folds, and it’s enough to start whining. Even the little sounds you let out at the house are suppressed and quietened— here, there is no one but the two of you.

“Give it all to me, baby doll,” he rasps over your throat as he positions himself and pushes past your entrance, slowly stretching you open on his thick cock and your thighs fall open wider, too, your breath heavy and low for him to bask in. “Ain’t that sweet…”

Jack’s eyes carry the glint of the fire beside your bodies as he stays there for some moments, letting you squirm all you need before he flattens you to the ground with his chest, cooing encouraging gentleness to contrast with the untamed way he’s going to fuck you here, on the blanket, again. His cock pushes deeper with the added mass, your whimper not enough when he finally thrusts and hits his hips to your wide-spread thighs and works the wetness of you all over his cock.

“Ja— Jack—” you whine, and his hot hand soon comes to glide over the innermost part of your thigh, rubbing it firmly as if he’s about to—

He spanks your thigh and earns the high-pitch moan he’s been working for all along, drawing himself back to return with a harsh thrust as he keeps his hand on the stinging sensation, groaning out his nose.

“Fu-uuck, there we go, that’s what I wanted,” he grunts through stunted breaths as he sets a new, punishing pace, sliding with ease in and out, hitting deep inside to brush against that satisfying spot that when he slaps the same part of your leg, the pleasure from both makes you cry louder, moan louder.

He draws the wool tighter around his back as he lowers his lips to your mouth, emitting an animalistic groan over your face when you clench around his cock and pull him in closer for another open-mouthed kiss, true and full.

“Oh, god,” you groan, his hand caressing the underside of your thigh, until he draws it up to push your knee on your chest, fitting his hand in the bend of your leg.

“Gimme more, sugar,” he demands, landing a sharp swat to the side of your ass lifted off the ground that gives him your neediest, filthiest sound yet as you fist his hair, taking his brutal pace. 

“Jack, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Fuck,” he curses back harder, “I’m gonna steal you every god damn night for this.” Jack hisses through bared teeth on your collarbone, keening when you raise your hips to meet his. The fire rises beside you at the same time a wave of building pressure in your abdomen knocks through your lower half, and you place your hands on his face, sliding them up to meet his hair.

A shaky breath puffs out of you, the sting of his spankings spreading over your leg as you crane your neck and cry out while he buries himself and grinds against your clit, “You just get wetter n’ wetter for me,” he remarks hoarsely, “just can’t help but need me, hm?”

“I... Yes,” you sigh into his heated neck, your limbs softening in their hold of him as he fucks you hard over the blanket, his grip deathly on the side of your thigh.

“I want to hear it, darlin’, say it to me,” he scrapes, his voice at the bottom of his register, and when the words get stuck in your mind and jumbled out of order from the fullness of your core, he draws himself out and rolls you onto your stomach. Mindlessly, empty, you whine with an equal hoarseness to his own, the end of it pushed out prematurely when he flattens his chest over your back, lining his cock back up with your soaking entrance.

“I’ll pull every last pretty sound you got left in you if I have to.” 

The words are a terrible blow to your senses, sparking a rapid increase in the sound of rushing blood in your ears as he pushes your thigh up to the side and presses down on it with his palm.

“Please…” you breathe, “I’m so close— fuck me, please fuck me again—”

Shutting your eyes, hoping to feel him push himself back inside you, you instead are met with a final, cracking swat on your leg that sends you wailing as Jack waits for you to scream it, “Tell me, sugar!”

“I need you, Jack— I need you!” 

It doesn’t sound like your own voice. Never has it been clouded by so much desire and such a sinful edge to your witless begging, but it’s enough for him. A push forward, and he fills you; his own sounds have grown needier too, reaching far out. He plants a hand by your face and you grab onto his wrist as he shoves his cock repeatedly deeper and at this angle, you could consider the punishing stretch of him painful, but it’s everything you need, causing you to whine a step higher every time his hips hit your ass.

“You’re all I fuckin’ think about, darlin’,” Jack mouths at your earlobe, your bodies turning slick under the poncho and your clothes, “here you are, shootin’ my gun n’ lettin’ me fuck your tight little pussy, beggin’ for me— gonna make me fuckin’ cum.”

Your jaw drops and an involuntary squeal stumbles from your hanging lip, Jack snarling behind you as he plunges again, hooking his hands under your shoulders and splaying his fingers wide over the tops of them.

It’s a taut stretch of your chest when he pulls on you like that, the soft curl of his hair tickling your neck as he nestles his face to yours and muffles his grunts and groans. You pull up tighter around him, squeezing his cock, nearly driving him to collapse over your back when he feels it happen and what is easily his hardest, neediest and wrecked groan tears out and spreads over your limbs with the rumbling breath he takes after.

“Jaaack,” you whisper, his movements heavily weighing on you, your body resting just at the precipice of something overwhelming, “So… full..”

“I’m gonna fuck my cum into that sweet cunt.” Jack fists the blanket with his supporting hand and the next time he rams his hips forward, a full-bodied scream fills the air, and once more, you squeeze him tighter as you cum hard around his cock, your nails starting to dig into his wrist as he fucks you through it. 

“Baby doll, you’re too fuckin’ good to me— squeeze me so fuckin’ tight when you cum, keep it comin’—”

“Oh god, oh god, oh god— fuck!”  You can’t stop gushing around him as his thrusts lose rhythm, as he focuses more on the sounds you’re making and the grip you have on his cock and it just won’t end, tears beginning to form in your eyes while the movements never cease.

“That is just heavenly,” he says with a strained laugh, “shit, you really did need me, huh? You want my cum inside you too? Want to be spoiled?”

“Yes!” you cry, miraculously raising your ass just a little against his cock as the orgasm finally calms, a growl and a bite on your shoulder at your ceaseless will to beg.

“Take it.” One final, gorgeous moan from his throat and he buries himself, a wet warmth painting your walls, his chest deflating as he settles around your back and rubs your thigh in a soft contrast to what was his stinging swats minutes before. He blows and pants to recuperate, and as he brings himself out, you feel the warmth spreading and dripping down to your clit. For a moment, you share the breaths you’re both trying to catch, but the sensation of his cum sliding over your skin is yet another obstacle to returning to a manageable state of being.

“This…” he whispers, taking his hand back, leaning on his other elbow to support himself as he slides his fingers under your skirt to lead them to your swollen cunt, “is my favourite, darlin’.” He spreads his cum over your folds, milky liquid sliding wherever he traces, and you push back on your knees to raise yourself for him while he guides it back inside you, your throat tired but still whimpering as he pushes his fingers in.

“Keep me inside,” he murmurs on your temple, urging you to lay back down over the plushy blanket, and as you relax, mussed and twinkling by the fire, he drapes the poncho over your body, tucking the fabric under your sides. He strokes your cheek with the dry hand, lifting your head to his lap as he carefully sits by you, your eyes delicately fluttering closed. 

“Did I hurt you?” He asks, and without opening your eyes, you shake your head no. Jack makes a purring sound, considering the moans his actions pulled out of you, and he begins to stroke your face some more. “Hope I never do,” he adds softly, studying your peaceful expression under the firelight and stars, “you’re soft.”

The last two words make you blink and smile up at him, finally granting him a peek which he returns with curved lips, and you know that “soft” doesn’t mean “weak” when he says it.

“I got an idea of where to take you next, if you think you can handle it...”

-

tags for yeehonk idiot:

@filthybookworm @frannyzooey​ @javier-pena​ @javierpcna​ @astroboots​ @userdindja @pedros-mustache​ @princessxkenobi​ @trashcora​ @writerdee1701​ @thelemongeneration​ @libraryofrecs​ @fan-of-encouragement​ @herb-welch​ @writeforfandoms​ @queenofthecloudss​ @leannawithacapitala​ @the-feckless-wonder​ @kesskirata​ @fuck-goes-on​ @lawfulgranola​@apascalrascal @prismaticpizza​ @xemmaloveskillianx​ @littlemissoblivious​ @quica-quica-quica @spideysimpossiblegirl​ @little-big-mac2​ @recklesswit​ ​@frankie-catfish-morales

let me know whether you’d like to be added or removed! 

[fruitcoops]

hiii i've just spent the last 36-48 hours reading your works and oh dear do i lOVE your writing and this universe :') . i dont know if you are taking requests but i think it would be kinda interesting (and low key hilarious) if you would write the lions reacting/reading thirst tweets? idk if this is a dumb idea or not but just like some of them reacting to them and going "well i'm actually gay/married so.. no!.. but thank you!"

Part two of the six-month celebration, everyone! Thank you thank you THANK YOU to everyone who submitted comments--I had over 60 come in, and while I couldn’t include them all, reading them was a true joy. The Lion Pride channel was something I started writing on a whim; I never expected it to grow like this <3 Much love to all of you!

TW for alcohol mentions and thirst tweets (nothing explicit)

“Why do I always fear for my life around you?” Sirius asked as Marlene settled into a cushy chair to the side of their table.

She smiled, catlike, and crossed her legs primly. “Because only Finn appreciates me.”

“That’s just the Aries connection, Cap,” Finn said with a smug grin.

“We’re both Leos, Harzy.”

“Eh, close enough.”

Remus raised an eyebrow at her. “You should probably start asking questions before this devolves further, Marley. He’s gonna keep digging himself a hole and we won’t get anything done.”

Marlene’s smile returned with a vengeance. “That’s where you’re wrong, Loops! We’re not doing any questions at all today.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Read it and weep.” She tossed a small posterboard at him like a frisbee; he caught it, barely, though both Talker and Sirius had to duck out of the way. Marlene faced the camera and winked. “Welcome back to Lion Pride, everyone! Today I’m here with Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Thomas Walker, and our wonderful cubs to react to your comments on our videos!”

“Bet you thought we’d never see ‘em, huh?” James asked.

“The comments fall into four categories: thirsty, funny, mean, and sweet. I will be reading two of those groups, and my lovely fiancée will be reading the others because she is the human embodiment of sunshine.”

“If you make Dorcas read the mean ones, I’ll be sad,” Leo laughed.

Marlene gave him a look of disbelief. “You think I’m passing up a chance to roast you guys? Puh-lease. We’re starting off strong with some thirsty, thirsty comments! Loops, you’re up first.”

“This is going to be fun,” Sirius said, leaning back in his chair.

She cleared her throat, then turned a smoldering look on their table. “I didn’t know I had a freckle kink, but then Remus Lupin appeared and now here we are.”

“Oh, shit,” Remus muttered, covering his face with his hands as the others howled with laughter.

“Lupin has been looking sexy as hell on the bench for years now. I'm so glad people are simping over him like he deserves,” Marlene read. “And there’s a little heart emoji, just for you.”

“This is every one of my nightmares come to life,” Remus said, though his voice was muffled by his forearms.

James lifted his glasses to swipe away the tears of mirth that had gathered in his eyes. “Are you kidding? This is everything I have ever wanted.”

“Y’know, it is so good to see people drooling over this hot piece of ass at last,” Finn sighed, reaching over to ruffle Remus’ hair as his face turned bright red.

“One more, and it’s a good one,” Marlene warned. She licked her lips, then had to take a moment to laugh before speaking. “I feel like Remus Lupin is the type of guy to bake you muffins—”

“Accurate,” Leo said.

“—but is also a kinky motherfucker.”

Remus’ mouth dropped open as the table erupted into cheering. Logan pumped both fists in the air and Sirius was laughing so hard no sound came out; Talker sank so low in his chair that only his head and shoulders were visible as he applauded.

“Why do people comment these things?” Remus asked, barely above a whisper. “Holy fuck, I’m engaged!”

“Speaking of…” Marlene raised her eyebrows and Sirius smile drooped.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes. Buckle up, Cap!” She rolled her shoulders out. “Get someone who looks at you the way Sirius Black looks at a hockey puck.”

Remus snorted; James’ laugh was so short and sharp that it set everyone else off as well. “That sounds like I have a hockey puck fetish!” Sirius complained. “Which is so, so not true!”

Finn made an ‘ehh’ noise, and he leaned around Remus to smack the back of his head. “Hey!”

“Next one!” Marlene announced. “Sirius Black was my bi awakening.”

A beat of silence passed. “Is that it?” Sirius ventured, looking nervous.

“Yep.”

“Aw, man, that one’s lame,” Talker said, shaking his head. “Everyone thinks Cap is a little hot.”

Remus shot him a look. “A little?”

“Fair. Marley, I dare you to find one person who wouldn’t tap that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Me, though that dovetails nicely into the last one for our lovely captain. Ahem. I understand why Remus is with Sirius: he's hot as hell and rich, I'd hit that too.”

“Oh, fuck, you’re right,” Leo gasped. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Finn and Logan turned to him in unison with a mix of disbelief and offense written all over their faces. “Dude.”

“First of all, Leo, you found yourself two hot rich boys,” Remus interrupted. “Second, that comment is forgetting that he’s funny, and smart, and nice, and—”

Seconds after the initial cover, Sirius took his hand off Remus’ mouth as if he’d been burned. “Did you just lick me?”

“Moving on! This is in all caps, so be prepared.” Marlene shuffled through her posterboards and turned to Leo with an ominous smile. He glanced toward the camera in mild fear. “What does a person have to do to get some hockey player ass?! Like why is Leo Knut so fine?!”

“Amen!” Logan called as Leo blushed.

“According to six of the seven people at this table, the answer to that first question is to be a hockey player,” Talker laughed. “The world may never know the answer to the second, sadly.”

“Lily could play hockey,” James said, resting his chin on his hand. Every single one of the others rolled their eyes. “She could! She’d be so good at it, too.”

“We know,” Finn groaned. “You only mention it every other day.”

“Speaking of the lovely Mrs. Potter,” Marlene began with a sly look as she held up a new card. “Do James and Lily Potter need a third? Asking for me specifically.”

James paused, dumbstruck, while the others drummed their hands on the table. “…no?”

A general sigh of disappointment went up. “I was really hoping he’d say yes,” Leo said.

“Ask Lily next time,” Remus recommended.

James turned to him and blinked slowly. “What are you insinuating, Loops?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Don’t worry, James, you’ll like this one,” Marlene assured him. “James Potter is the ultimate dilf.”

“You’re damn right I am!” James whooped. “Vindication, bitches!”

“Marley, what have you done?” Talker whispered. “He’ll never shut up about that, now.”

“Oh, never,” James all but cackled. “I’m officially a dilf, you guys!”

“I hate you,” Sirius groaned.

“Tremzy, are you ready? We’ve got a couple very special ones for you,” Marlene said.

“Anything to get us out of this hell,” Logan begged.

“In that case: Logan Tremblay’s ass is better than Sidney Crosby’s. I said what I said.”

A pleased flush rose to his cheeks as Finn and Leo high-fived over his head. “Really? Thank you!”

“And they would be correct!” Finn announced. “Best ass in the league.”

“Come on,” Remus scoffed, though he was smiling.

Marlene cleared her throat to get their attention. “I don’t think I can legally read this on air without being censored or getting the video taken down, but…”

She turned the board around; all seven of them leaned forward to read it, then slowly looked at Logan, who turned vivid red. “Mon dieu. Is that—someone commented that on a video? Like, for people to see?”

“I feel like I need to bleach my eyes,” Sirius said just as Finn began shaking with silent laughter.

Leo’s face fell. “You wrote that, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Finn wheezed, scooting forward to fist-bump Marlene. “We wanted to see what you guys would say. Fuckin’ hell, your faces.”

“Alright, Talkie, are you ready?” Marlene asked around her laughter. “Seeing Thomas Walker with a baby makes me want to have his babies…please hit me up.”

He held up his index finger and took a second to laugh before responding. “If that’s Noelle, yes. If that’s anyone else, I’m flattered, but absolutely not.”

Logan made a face. “Ew.”

“We have two more,” Marlene warned. “For some very special people that aren’t here today, but I think you’ll like them anyway.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “I don’t trust the look on your face.”

“Daddy Dumo makes me swoon.”

A muddle of horrified noises echoed through the studio as all seven of them cringed. “Oh, my god, that’s my dad!” Logan yelped, covering his ears. Sirius looked vaguely ill and Remus’ shoulders crept toward his ears; James shuddered.

“The worst part is, we all know he can get it,” Finn said with a grimace. “God, I feel like I just heard someone talking about my parents having sex.”

“I’m sure he’ll love to hear that,” Marlene laughed. “Last one, from one of our truth or drinks.”

Remus went pale half a second too late. “N—”

“Hope Lupin is a milf.”

A broken noise escaped his mouth and he clamped his hand over it while Talker rubbed his back in sympathy. Sirius shook his head. “Somehow, that’s worse than Dumo’s.”

“Whoever sent that in, show some respect!” Leo said indignantly as Remus bonked his forehead against the table. “Hope Lupin is a lovely woman!”

“I think they noticed that particular fact,” Marlene pointed out, earning herself several scandalized shouts of her name and a whine from Remus. “That’s all we have for thirst comments! Are you ready for some funny ones?”

“Anything,” Remus pleaded. “I am begging you, anything else.”

Marlene shook her head as she stood, still smiling, and kissed Dorcas on the cheek when she entered the frame. “Go for it, love.”

“Dorcas!” they all cheered, lighting up immediately.

“Hey, guys, it’s been a while!” She curled up in Marlene’s vacant spot and took her own posterboards out from underneath the seat. “Alright, let’s rock and roll. Pascal Dumais is the team dad and nothing will change my mind, and Tremzy is the annoying youngest child.”

“That is so accurate,” Sirius laughed, leaning just out of range of Logan’s playful punch. “Whoever commented that has no idea how right they are.”

“We’ve got a whole sibling dynamic thing going on,” Talker agreed. “Tremzy’s the baby of the family, Cap is the quietly chaotic middle child, and Pots is the older brother that starts shit and inevitably gets blamed for however out-of-control it gets.”

Dorcas nodded. “You are one hundred percent correct. In a similar vein: Pots was the dad jokes friend before he was even a dad.”

“Painfully so,” Leo confirmed, shaking his head as they all groaned in agreement. James looked rather smug about the whole thing. “So many puns.”

“Oh, you’ll like this one,” Dorcas mused as she drew a new card. “If Tremzy looked directly into my eyes for even two seconds, all of my problems would be solved. I am sure of it.”

“Yes,” Finn and Leo said in unison.

“It’s something about the eyes, I think,” James added. “They just stand out so much that it’s a little startling straight-on.”

Logan looked to the camera and stared at it, unblinking; it zoomed in slightly on his face. “Everything will be fine,” he said with mock solemnity. “Your problems are solved.”

“Well, that was terrifying,” Sirius said drily. “Got any more for us, Ms. Meadowes?”

“Of course I do! We’ve got quite a few for Loops and Leo.” She took a sip of her water before getting comfortable again. “My favorite thing about these videos is that we can all see Loops get steadily buffer as the season goes on. Good for you, king!”

“Flex! Flex! Flex!” the six of them chanted; Remus rolled his eyes, but slid his sweater sleeve to his elbow and flexed his forearm, resulting in enough hoots and hollers that they could probably be heard a block away. Talker fake-swooned into Leo’s arms and Remus lightly whacked him on the shoulder.

“Remus Lupin looks like he has squishable cheeks,” Dorcas read aloud.

“He does!” James cooed, scooting over and reaching out.

Remus narrowed his eyes. “I swear to god I’ll bite you.”

Sirius cupped his face between his palms and kissed his nose, then pinched both his cheeks gently. “Ta-da!”

“How many of these do we have?” Remus asked, though his voice was a bit muffled by Sirius’ hands.

“Just one more for you, and it’s my personal favorite.” Dorcas assured him. “I love how the team probably had no impulse control until Loops joined.”

Sirius let go of his face and dissolved into laughter as Finn nearly fell on the floor. “Oh my—you think he has impulse control?” Talker slapped the edge of the table as he shook his head. “Absolutely not. Hell no, Loops is the first person to do stupid shit with us.”

“Yeah, I just don’t get caught,” Remus added around his own laughter. “Everyone thinks I’m such a hardass goody-two-shoes and it lets me get away with so much more than you delinquents.”

“Speaking of delinquents,” Dorcas continued. “This one is from our ‘Taste Testing Sexy Alcohol’ video: ah, yes, now I know how to do a body shot. 10/10, very educational video.”

“Do not take educational advice from us,” Finn blurted instantly. “I know this is a joke, but please exercise caution. That video was a ton of fun but a nightmare to recover from.”

Sirius winced at the memory. “I took two naps and then wished for death for a full day.”

“On a lighter note, who’s ready for some Knutty appreciation?” Dorcas smiled at her cards. “I've only had Leo Knut for a season and half, but if anything happened to him, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.”

“Big mood,” four of them said simultaneously.

Leo turned to the camera with a concerned look on his face. “That’s a meme reference, but are y’all okay?”

“No,” Dorcas answered. “Especially not this next person: Sometimes I do something productive and then I remember @LeoKnut is a 19 year old professional athlete who radiates happiness and with two of the hottest boyfriends the good lord has made, and then my bowl of packaged ramen seems less impressive.”

“I’m proud of your ramen,” Leo said, even as the corners of his mouth twitched in a smile. “And I appreciate the note about my boyfriends, because they are definitely the hottest people the good lord has made.”

Talker stuck his lip out in a pout. “Rude.”

“Sorry, Talkie, I’m biased.”

“Last one before Marlene comes back, so you’d better enjoy it!” Dorcas announced. “Did the Lions effectively utilize girl power when they wrecked toxic masculinity, yes or yes?”

“Can we utilize girl power?” Remus wondered, resting his shin on his hand. “Isn’t that exclusively for, y’know, women?”

“We can utilize himbo power,” Finn suggested.

James gave him an offended look. “Not all of us are himbos!”

“Okay, but you definitely are.”

“I am not!” James held up his fingers to count. “There are only, like, three qualifications, right? I might be strong, hot, and respectful, but I’m not dumb so it doesn’t count!”

“Pots,” Remus said quietly, hiding his smile for half a second. “Buddy, that was four things.”

James paused, then sighed in resignation. “Ah, fuck, I’m a himbo.”

“You really are.”

“At least we don’t promote toxic masculinity.”

They raised their waterbottles in a ‘cheers’ motion as Marlene and Dorcas switched spots; Marlene stretched her arms over her head and grabbed the new boards. “I’m back, beloved himbos. Talker, Leo, you are beloved by the people and have no mean comments. Cap, we’re starting with you.”

“Are they actually mean mean?” he asked.

“Sirius Black seems like a little bitch. Not in a bad way, necessarily. He just. Seems like he'd be a little bitch."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Oh, okay. That answers one question.”

“He’s not a little bitch,” Leo said. “Pouty on occasion, but not a little bitch.”

Remus gave him a long look, then shook his head. “Yeah, I mean, you teared up a little when Hattie got a splinter in her paw but didn’t even yell when you almost sliced your finger off while making dinner.”

“Duality of man,” Finn said sagely.

Marlene cocked an eyebrow. “Finn O’Hara’s hair kind of reminds me of Garfield the Cat.”

“Alright, that’s just rude.”

“It does not!” Logan gasped at the same time Leo made a noise of agreement.

Finn turned to him in utter betrayal. “Nutter Butter, I thought you liked my hair!”

“I do!” Leo defended. “But they’re not entirely wrong. It’s very orange in the sun.”

“I’m never going to forget that,” Finn muttered, staring at the floor.

“Ugh, it bothers me so much that Lupin just objectifies Black all the time!” Marlene read in a high-pitched, nasal voice. “No respect in that relationship!”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Pardon?”

Marlene stared at it for a moment, then shrugged. “Yeah, I have no idea what videos they were watching. Do you feel objectified in your relationship, Cap? I know the opinion of total strangers really bothers you a lot.”

“I’m really glad you picked up on that,” he said with false gravity. “Yeah, it’s such a bummer when my hot fiancé says I look nice. Such a blow to my self-esteem.”

“That was supposed to be a roast against me,” Remus said, looking amused. “Talk about backfiring.”

“Are you ready, Pots? This one’s pretty brutal,” Marlene warned. James nodded and Finn linked their hands for moral support. “James Potter is a swiftie and you cannot tell me otherwise.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “…yeah? That’s true? T Swift is a regular occurrence on the locker room playlist.”

“Also, James Potter looks like someone who would think black pepper was spicy.”

“Now that one is mean,” he complained as the others burst out laughing.  “It’s not my fault I have sensitive taste buds!”

“Oh, honey,” she said under her breath as she took a new card. “Get ready, Tremzy. This first one is short and sweet: Logan Tremblay looks like a lesbian.”

“That is not an insult,” Logan laughed. “Every lesbian I know is rad as fuck. I wish I looked that good in a leather jacket.”

“I just realized Logan doesn’t look short cause he’s next to bunch of hockey players, he’s short cause he’s 5’9.”

The smile slipped off his face in a millisecond as the others roared with laughter. “Quoi?”

“Oh, she got you good,” Sirius gasped, patting his shoulder clumsily. “Holy fuck, can I frame that?”

“That’s not what it says.” An edge of distress appeared in Logan’s voice. “Marley, that’s not what it says.”

James sat on the floor with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes. “You’re fucking—whoever sent that in, you are my new favorite person. Jesus.”

“Do you need a second to recover before we move on?” Dorcas asked as she draped her arms over the back of Marlene’s chair. “The next one is our biggest section by far.”

“It’s the sweet ones, yeah?” Leo asked.

“Right.”

“It might be a good idea to do those before Lo spontaneously combusts.”

“Agreed!” She swapped with Marlene and hauled a short stack of posterboards out from their hiding place with a smile. “A hug from Dumo can probably solve any issue.”

“Facts,” Logan said. “I could really use one right about now, too.”

“Has anyone noticed how blue Leo Knut’s eyes are?”

“Yes,” the six of them chorused.

Finn gave him a dreamy look. “Every single day.”

“When I first read this one, I thought I wrote it,” Dorcas said with a snort. “Someone give Marlene a raise. No reason why, I just love her.”

“Can we do that?” Sirius asked, looking toward the camera crew. “Can we lobby to give you guys raises? Because you definitely deserve it after all the bullshit you deal with to make these videos watchable, and Marlene, you’ve drawn the short end of the stick ninety percent of the time.”

“How?” she called off-screen.

“You have to actually talk to us and try to get answers.”

“Fair.”

Dorcas finished scribbling something down on her notepad. “Just making a note of this conversation for future reference. Moving on! Sirius Black and James Potter are a prime example of hockey husbands, and I adore them.”

“The ironic part of that is that we’re both in committed relationships, but we’re basically married,” James mused.

Remus shook his head. “You guys are so married. Lily wanted to get you matching rings for your birthday, Pots.”

“That would be so cool!” they said in perfect unison. Remus turned to the camera and spread his hands in a case in point motion.

Dorcas stifled her laughter before moving on. “This one is cute. Give Remus Lupin all the hugs! I feel like I could tell him he’s an inspiration and he’d be so nice about it—” She paused to glance up at them. “—this next bit is in parentheses: all the LGBT Lions give me that vibe, but Cap and Knutty are super intimidating so I wouldn’t have the guts.”

Leo’s face fell and Sirius’ eyebrows pitched. “I’m not intimidating!” Leo protested. “I thought we already went over that! Loops gives fantastic hugs, but I want some, too.”

“He definitely deserves all the hugs in the world, but I promise I’m nice,” Sirius said, a bit softer than usual. “Is it because we’re tall?”

Dorcas half-shrugged. “Probably. It’s a little startling at first. Oh, I could’ve written this one, too: The Venn diagram of men I trust and the Gryffindor Lions is a full circle.”

Talker beamed at the camera. “Thank you!”

“So many hockey guys are such douchebags,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “I’m really glad we don’t do that shit.”

“Me, too.” Dorcas slid her old card under her chair. “Sirius Black’s hair looks so soft and I just want to touch it so bad.”

“It is so soft,” Remus agreed immediately. “You have no idea.”

“Everyone wants to touch Cap’s hair,” Finn said, sighing. “It’s so majestic.”

“I need a haircut.”

“No, you don’t,” Remus said as he tugged a stray curl. Sirius hummed.

“This one is from the interview some you did with Jules and Katie: these hockey boys being so soft with kids is my aesthetic! Like, it’s just so adorable to see these big, intimidating dudes be so, so sweet! Love them all!” She turned the card for them to see. “And then they added a heart at the end.”

“It’s impossible to be around those kids and not be happy,” James said. “They’re just too cute and wonderful.”

“Yeah, I love kids.” Finn nodded. “Especially the Dumais and Jules. They’re a hoot.”

“Jules would die if he heard you say that,” Remus laughed. “The hero worship is still going strong with most of you.”

“This one made me laugh when I first read it, but it’s really sweet,” Dorcas informed them. “Anyone else feel like we were deceived these past five years into thinking Cap was this hard-ass man, when in reality he's a cuddle bug who definitely captures and releases spiders instead of squishing them?”

“You weren’t deceived, I was just closeted,” Sirius said. “Also, I absolutely squish spiders.”

Remus gave him a look. “No, you do not. That’s my job. I’m the catch and release person if I can get away with it.”

James shook his head. “The third week of practices you saw a spider and threw me at it.”

“You did what?” Finn asked.

“There was a spider in my stall,” Sirius sighed, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else. “And Pots and I were talking so I didn’t see it until I almost sat on it, and my brain decided the only logical thing to do would be to grab him and shove him toward the spider.”

“That was after you shrieked,” Talker added. “Like, literally shrieked. I’ve never heard anyone make a noise like that.”

“Alright, alright,” Sirius grumbled. “We get it, I don’t like spiders.”

Remus shrugged. “But you are a cuddle bug. They got that part right.”

“We’re in the final two!” Dorcas announced. “This one has some pictures to go with it, so it’s on my phone. Fuck Romeo and Juliet, I want what these bitches have.”

“It’s us!” Leo cooed as the phone made its way down the line. In the upper corner of the screen, the photo appeared—it had been taken in New York, and Logan’s whole face was alight with happiness as Leo and Finn each pressed a kiss to his cheek. The camera caught him mid-laugh, so his eyes were closed and his chin was tucked slightly into Finn’s Strand hoodie.

“That’s my screensaver,” Finn said with a grin, pulling his phone out and turning it toward the camera without moving away from Leo. “One of my favorites.”

“I forgot you took that one,” Logan murmured. He hooked his chin over Leo’s shoulder and kissed his cheek; the four others at the table gave soft are you seeing this? looks to the camera and Dorcas smiled.

“Pots, I think yours is next. I hate to break it to you, Talkie, but they didn’t get any of you and Noelle.”

“We don’t take a ton of pictures together,” Talker said as James took the phone. “I mean, we take a bunch of selfies, but we don’t live close enough to each other to actually post that often. What picture is it, J?”

James was staring down at the picture with an unbearably sweet expression. “It’s our wedding. That’s my favorite one, actually.”

Like Logan, they had been captured while laughing—Lily was bent slightly at the waist as James clapped, his glasses just as askew as the flower crown on her head. It was impossible to tell who had told the joke originally, but they were both radiant in the sunset.

“That’s a really good one,” Sirius said with an unreadable look on his face.

“Well, well, well, fancypants, you two got a video.” James wiggled his eyebrows and Remus leaned in to see.

“What kind of video? One of our tikt—oh. Oh, this is so cute.” He shifted his chair over as the short edit began to play. “D, who made this?”

“A fan.”

“It’s really impressive,” Sirius said without taking his eyes off the screen. The edit was a series of photos, both on and off the ice; Sirius knocking their helmets together, then Remus looking back over his shoulder, then both of them in the water playing chicken in the sun. It was a slideshow of their life and their love.

“Can you send that to me?” Remus asked when it was over. “Cause that’s super cool.”

“Sure thing. Are you guys ready for the last one?” When they all nodded, she drummed her fingers on the posterboard and cleared her throat. “Arthur appreciation hours. He deserves it after managing to control the team.”

A cheer went up—all seven stood and applauded, half-laughing and half-whooping. “Miracle worker!” Sirius called.

“Best coach in the league!” Finn added.

“Most tolerant man to ever walk the earth!” Remus raised his water in a toast and they tapped the plastic edges together, nearly spilling all over the table.

Dorcas’ eyes crinkled in a smile as she turned to the camera. “That’s it for today, Lions! Tune in next time for more content of our boys, and thank you for such wonderful comments!”