#I'm pretty sure you're supposed to age

[i-am-a-living-god]

Can someone please tell me why 03 April somehow gets younger as the show progresses????

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

i don't think my brain works well enough to write long fiction anymore 😭

[nightmaretour]

Sometimes I do wonder if I was ever like... fully "female". I didn't start puberty at all until I was about 14/15, and even then I didn't really develop any body type changes or more than a tiny bit of chest growth. I had to wear padded bras to look like I had any at all, really. I just got graced with the most agonising and heavy periods where all I could do was lay on the sofa and beg for it to stop, and body hair. Before the egg cracked I used to get so stressed out that I never looked or felt like the girls at school in any way, I tried so hard to fit in for a while (maybe so they had one less thing to bully me about, mostly, and probably misattributing my discomfort with my body.). I'm also told that my voice was already pretty deep (it almost immediately deepened to fucking baritone on a 5"7 guy when I started T). When I finally started T, they told me they didn't really have to give me much, because it was high already. I was read as male by all but a rare few within about a year on it.

Or that could just be completely average variation, idk. I don't think I'd feel right calling it anything anyway because it affected me for such a short amount of time. Besides bullying and self consciousness I didn't really have any experiences relating to it aside from being given birth control at 16/17 until I waited for my T. My mum never took me to the doctor about anything, much less this, so fortunately nobody tried to intervene or anything.

[fancysasquatch]

Have you ever wanted to make a crossover between two different pieces of media you like, but you also know there'd be nowhere you could share it because the two pieces of media are so different that the overlap between their two fan bases would have to be vanishingly small?

Anyway I spent the better part of an hour taking one of the main characters from Disco Elysium (an entirely dialogue-driven crpg made by Estonian communists) and recreating him in the style of Choices: Stories You Play (one of those visual novel apps that made those "divorce or pee in her mouth" ads that were inescapable a few years ago)

[sukunasweetheart]

Sukuna, a middle aged man jaded by the harsh realities of his life. He steps outside for a smoke nearby a convenience store, completely bored out of his mind.

A lady is handing out flyers nearby, although nobody is bothering to look her way, including sukuna himself.

You approach the man who's getting irritated by the lighter that refuses to work in his hand.

"Hello there, sir. Would you be interested in taking up classes for arts and craft?" You offer the cute flyer up.

Sukuna scoffs. Is she serious?

"No thanks."

"Are you sure? You look like you could use a bit more colour in your life."

He's too exhausted at this point to get angry at a random woman on the street.

"...You're not too far off, i suppose," sukuna mutters, still trying to get the spark to stay on his lighter. "Even so, I'm not interested in the likes of arts and craft. Do i look like a child to you?"

You withdraw your offer of your flyer, and inspect him for a moment.

"Arts and craft can be enjoyed by anyone, regardless of age. But moving past that... you seem a bit down. If you'd like to confide in a stranger for a night, I'm happy to listen."

What a strange, persistent woman. Sukuna gives up on his lighter, and takes out the unlit cigarette in his mouth to think back for a moment. One thing does come to mind.

"I'm not feeling down. But i remembered something, now that i think about it..." he confesses, feeling weirdly compelled to tell you about it.

"Today is supposed to be my birthday."

Birthdays have never been special to him. Nobody celebrated his birth as a child, and in turn, he's never paid attention to the birthdays of others.

"Oh, happy birthday. Are you doing anything special for yourself today?"

"No. I've never cared for birthdays. And I'm getting too old for that anyway."

"Well, that won't do... Hold on for a second."

Puzzled, sukuna looks back at you but you've already gone inside the convenience store. Whatever you're up to now, couldn't possibly be more enticing than getting in a proper smoke right now. Sukuna begins to zone out.

He only snaps out of it when something mildly cold grazes past his cheek, leaving a ticklish and moist sensation on his skin as it disappears upon impact.

Bubbles. Bubbles are flying past him, and floating away into the sky.

For a moment, he gets mesmerised by the swirl of colours that are harboured in each one. Even just from the light of this dingy street, they fly up while holding a multitude of different colours inside them. Time seems to slow for a split second, and he doesn't understand why.

His gaze follows the trail to identify it's source. And unsurprisingly, it's you, standing behind him. You blow a couple more out, and then grin at him childishly. He finally looks at your face properly for the first time.

"Birthday bubbles. For the birthday man," you chuckle sheepishly, knowing that you probably look a bit silly right now. You put the bubble wand back into the small bottle of the soapy mixture, and screw it tightly.

"Here, you can have it. Next time you're feeling a bit antsy, why don't you try blowing some yourself? They're pretty, aren't they?"

You also hand him a different small item.

"And i also threw in a little something else, while i was at it."

He looks down, and sees that it's a new lighter. He slowly pulls his hand out of his pocket to take both of them from your hands.

"I hope you get to do something more special next year. Birthdays are supposed to be joyful, after all," you comment.

"Thanks for putting up with my nosiness. Farewell."

And then you leave him after a quick wave.

Sukuna stares wordlessly as you walk off, wondering what to name this ticklish feeling rising in the pit of his stomach.

The small bottle in his palm reminds him of a moment in his childhood. Kids in the park bragging about their bubble wands that were gifted to them. the laughs that resounded as they all ran off to catch the fragile spheres as they blew away in the wind. The tiny feelings of envy in his heart.

The item he tucks away into his pocket is the lighter. And when nobody is watching, he blows a couple more bubbles into the night sky.

-

Every time he passes by that convenience store, the thought of you comes to his mind. A flashback of your smile in the back of his mind. Every so often, he comes to this particular store. Despite having closer options, he comes to this specific one.

At times, sukuna regrets not taking one of the flyers that you were handing out. He wouldn't have had to mope around a convenience store in hopes of running into you again.

Today is a rainy day, and this calls for a hot piping cup of instant ramen. He doesn't usually enjoy convenience store food, but he wants a reason to stay around inside for a bit longer.

He needs to wait five minutes for the noodles to soften. In this time, he stares out the glass frame of the store, and watches the various rows of people walking past with their umbrellas opened.

There appears to be one anomaly in the crowd, however. Running without shelter from the rain, clutching her bag as if it contains something important in there. Sukuna realises that it's you.

Forgetting about his instant ramen, sukuna grabs his umbrella and dashes out the door.

You're mildly panicking about being stuck behind the red light at the zebra crossing without anything to save you from the rain, but the sensation of the droplets hitting your body come to a stop all too suddenly.

You look up, and there's a black umbrella sheltering you, big and strong looking. You spin around and recognise the stranger with pink hair and sharp eyes. Seemingly out of breath.

He signals to the light that has now turned green behind you, and ushers you forward to cross the road before you can say anything to him.

Now safely on the other side of the road, you begin to converse with him.

"It's you! Hello. Thank you for sheltering me. How have you been?"

"... So-so. Nothing's changed since the last time we met."

"I see. You look better than last time, though." You get the feeling that his eyes have a little more light in them.

Sukuna doesn't really get what you mean, but he moves on.

"What’s in your bag that's so important for you to be protecting it like that?" He asks, effectively changing the topic.

"Oh, this? I literally just bought some brand new origami paper... i can't risk getting them wet and unusable. The children would be disappointed."

"Origami, huh? How original."

"Hey! That's not all... there's a lot of options i offer them. They voted on origami this time."

"You got a lot of people signed up?"

"Not really... but I'm sure it'll start picking up soon. Slowly, one at a time."

You smile up at him hopefully.

"...is the offer still open?"

You cock your head to the side slightly, confused. Sukuna grits his teeth, feeling a little bashful about having to ask more specifically.

"You know. Lessons for grown adults."

"Oh! Of course, anytime! Would you like to come sign up today?"

"Do you offer one-on-one sessions too?"

"Yes, I do."

"Alright. Let’s go."

Sukuna can't fathom the words that are coming out of his own mouth. But fuck it, what's the worst that could happen? You've somehow intriged him, and he can't think of a better way to approach you.

You chatter his ears off along the way, and he nods along while his shoulder gets wet from the way he leans his umbrella closer to your side.

[incognit0slut]

Hypothetically

Chronically single, you suggest a pact with your best friend to start a family together when you turn forty.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x bau fem reader

Category: fluff/comfort

Warnings: marriage and baby talk, reader is insecure because she feels left out

A/n: This is my entry for the kid fic challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins! This was like a breath of fresh air from all the smut I’ve been writing

"Do you want to have a baby with me?"

The scalding coffee burned his tongue as your question lingered in the air. Spencer cleared his throat awkwardly and patted his chest, his eyes drifting towards you. "Uh... what?"

"Hypothetically," you replied, the tap of your pen echoing against the round table between you. "It's like a pact. If we're both still single in the future, we get married to one another and, well, start a family together."

Spencer felt the clamminess of his palms as he set his mug down, trying to steady himself. He considered you as one of the closest people in his life, if not his best friend, and he was accustomed to your random questions, but this sudden topic of conversation seemed to strike a nerve.

"Where..." he began, wiping his palm along his pants. "...where is this coming from?"

You shrugged casually, the tapping of your pen momentarily ceasing. "Just a thought. I mean, we're both at that age where these things start to cross our minds, right?"

Spencer swallowed, trying to push down the unease rising in his chest. "Yeah, I guess so," he muttered, but as he studied you, he noticed the tension in your shoulders. "Are you okay?"

Your gaze flickered away for a moment before you sighed, slumping against your chair.

"I have a wedding coming up this weekend." Spencer frowned, not understanding what you were trying to say. You continued, "And another one next week, and guess what? Two of my cousins are getting married next month."

"What does that have to do with...?" His voice trailed off as realization dawned on him. "Ah, I see."

But you weren't finished. Somehow, the thoughts that had lingered in your mind for the past few days spilled out right then and there, in the middle of broad daylight when you were supposed to be focusing on the case you were working on.

"And a close friend I went to high school with just gave birth while another friend from college announced she's two months pregnant. And look at me," you exclaimed, your arms flying around. "No wedding. No pregnancy. Spencer, I don't even have a boyfriend, heck, I forgot what it's like to go out on a date!"

He watched as your brow furrowed into a frown, and although your demeanor was all over the place, he couldn't help but notice how you still managed to look pretty.

"Spence?" You asked, nudging his leg with your foot under the table. "Are you listening to me?"

He blinked, momentarily pulled from his thoughts by your voice. "Sorry," he replied. "I'm listening."

You gave him a skeptical look, but the tension in your shoulders seemed to ease slightly as you leaned back in your chair.

"I just... I don't know, I feel like I'm left behind." You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I mean, I'm happy for my friends and all, but sometimes it feels like everyone's moving forward but me. Like I'm stuck in this... this rut."

Spencer wasn't sure how to respond. On one hand, he knew how it felt to want something that seemed out of reach, but on the other hand, he felt like it wasn't his place to offer advice when he wasn't even sure what the future held for him.

"I get it," he finally said, trying to gather his thoughts. The least he could do was try to offer some comfort. "But just because you haven't reached those milestones yet doesn't mean you won't get there eventually."

"But what if it doesn't happen? What if I'm still all alone and nobody loves me when I'm gray and old?"

He frowned at you. "I'd still love you when you're gray and old."

"Platonically. You love me as much as you love JJ. Or Emily. Or Penny, or even Morgan." You leaned over the table. "I want to be loved passionately by someone who is head over heels for me, who can't imagine a life without me. I want to feel that kind of happiness."

His frown deepened. "I don't think you should find happiness in another person."

"You're missing the point," you groaned, crossing your arms. "I'm not saying I want to depend on someone else for my happiness. But is it too much to ask for someone to share it with? To feel like I'm someone's everything and not just another friend in the group?"

His expression softened as he listened, a sense of familiarity washing over him. He remembered feeling the same thing once, or maybe more than once; he wasn't sure. He had lost count of the times he felt his life was falling short.

But he realized the more he thought about the why—why was he so different? why couldn't he find love?—the more he felt worthless, and he hated that. So what was the best thing he did to ignore those thoughts?

Bury himself in work, because to him, pushing those feelings aside was easier than confronting them. But now, as he looked at you, it felt like he was seeing his own reflection and your words hit him harder than he expected.

"No," he quietly agreed. "It's not too much to ask for."

"I guess what I'm trying to say is... I'm tired of waiting for life to happen to me." Your gaze slowly met his. "So I came up with a plan."

His throat felt dry as he recalled how this conversation started in the first place. "The... baby plan?"

You nodded enthusiastically, sliding into the seat next to him.

"Think about it. If we're both still single when we're..." You paused, furrowing your brow as you did a quick calculation. "Forty? Yeah, let's say we're both still single when we're forty, with no partners, or like, no friends with benefits?"

You shook your head.

“Just... with no one in our lives—we get married. You and me."

He blinked, trying to process your proposal. It was unexpected, to say the least, but there was a strange logic to it that he couldn't quite shake. The idea of marrying his best friend as a backup plan was both absurd and oddly comforting.

"But what about... love?" he asked cautiously. "Wasn't that what you wanted?"

You paused, considering his question before responding. "I mean, I don't think it's impossible," you said, leaning back in your seat. "Haven't you ever heard of the saying, 'Marry your best friend'?"

His gaze lingered on you, his heart beating hard against his chest. "You're saying that we can fall in love?"

Your eyes met his, and a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Who knows?" you replied softly. "Stranger things have happened."

Spencer shouldn't entertain the possibility. After all, who knew what could happen in the future? It seemed like an absurd thought, but as he stared at you, it was hard not to imagine a life with you as his wife.

He imagined you in a white dress, walking down the aisle towards him with a radiant smile on your face. He pictured you both in the house you had just bought, dancing joyfully around the empty rooms as you unpacked boxes together.

Then thoughts of you being pregnant with his child—or maybe even children—filled his mind, and he envisioned a future where your kids would run around in the backyard with a pet dog trailing behind.

And then he considered the prospect of growing old with you, watching as your children eventually started families of their own while you found comfort in each other's company. All of these possibilities didn't seem so bad, because if anyone could understand him on a deep level, it was definitely you.

Maybe this crazy plan of yours wasn't so crazy after all.

"I... I guess it's not impossible," he finally admitted. Then, not wanting to seem too eager, he added, "Hypothetically speaking."

"Of course," you replied with a smile. "Hypothetically speaking."

Suddenly feeling flustered by your gaze, Spencer looked away and focused on his coffee, bringing the mug to his lips. Then you heard laughter and footsteps drawing closer, and soon Derek and Emily entered the room. Their eyes immediately landed on the two of you, sitting closely together at the table.

"What are you children whispering about?" Derek's voice interrupted, his eyebrows raised curiously as he glanced between you.

You didn't miss a beat. “Spencer and I are having a baby together."

Spencer choked on his coffee, his eyes widening in shock as he coughed and sputtered. You quickly moved to pat his back.

"Well, we're gonna get married first, right, Spence?" you added with a grin, glancing at him expectantly.

Spencer finally managed to regain his composure, clearing his throat awkwardly as he shot you a sideways glance. "Um, yeah, of course," he stammered, his cheeks still tinged with embarrassment. "Hypothetically."

Derek and Emily exchanged bemused glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Emily's curiosity seemed to win out as she lifted a hand, turning her attention back to you. "Care to explain?"

"We were discussing our backup plan."

"Backup plan?" Derek echoed. 

"Yeah," you replied with a nod. "In case neither of us finds the right person by the time we're, oh, I don't know, forty or so, we figured we'd marry each other and start a family."

Derek placed a hand over his chest, feigning hurt. "And you chose Pretty Boy over me?"

"I'm not going to compete with all your lady friends," you shot back, rising from your seat. "Come on, Spence, let's grab some lunch and brainstorm baby names."

He stood up, giving you a pointed look.

"Or do you want to discuss how we'd make those babies in the future?"

"Well, I was thinking of Amelia if it's a girl..."

You grinned, linking your arm through his before guiding him towards the door. Derek and Emily observed the natural closeness between you two, how you were practically clinging to him and how he seemed to be comfortable with it.

Derek turned to Emily as you disappeared down the hallway. "Do you think they'd actually get married when they hit forty?"

Emily shook her head. "Nope," she replied confidently. "I give it a year until he's already down on one knee."

He laughed, nodding in agreement. With the way Spencer's gaze lingered on you with unmistakable affection, it seemed like it was only a matter of time.

[terrestrialnoob]

Damian had never seen another person his age before.

“Wow, you're good at that.”

Damian froze in his practice and looked over at the boy. It was after his lesson, his instructor had other students to teach, and Damian had his own private training area. Well, it was supposed to be private. “Who are you?”

“Danny, what's your name?”

Damian glared at the boy. Who doesn't know who he is? “I am Damian Al-Ghoul, grandson of the Demon's Head, son of the Bat, heir to the League of Assassins.”

“Wow, that's a lot... Can I just call you Damian?”

“Servants call me Master. How did you get here?”

Danny shrugged, “I was just looking around.”

“Just looking around...”

“Yeah, my parents are in the science lab down in the bottom basement with the weird lake and I was helping them, but then I got board and Jazz said I wasn't allowed to leave the lab, but when I asked Dad, he said I could do what I want as long as I don't get in trouble.”

“Oh, the idiot scientists.” Damian remembered how his mother had described the new scientists hired to study the Lazarus Pools. A pair of geniuses when it came to the scientific study of magic but idiots in all other fields. Surely only idiots would bring their children to live with the League of Assassins.

“What do you mean? If you're a scientist you can't be an idiot?”

Damian huffed at the boy. “You can be smart at one thing and dumb at others. Like you could be good at reading but bad at numbers.”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense. But I'm pretty good at reading and numbers.” Danny then smiled brightly, “It looks like you're really good at swording though.”

“It's called swordplay. And yes, I am good at it. Better at it at my age than many who are older.”

“Can you show me how to do it?”

Damian contemplated for a moment, “As long as you don't get in the way of my practice, I don't see why not.”

Danny cheered as he ran up to where Damian was standing, but Damian pointed to the side of the training area, “There should be a spare sword over there you can use.”

Danny nodded and ran to get it then ran back.

Damian wasn't sure if he'd like showing Danny how to use a sword, but he liked how Danny followed all his instructions. It was different than how the servants followed his orders, but Damian couldn't place why. It became common place, for Danny to show up after Damian's lessons and Damian would show him what he'd learned. It actually made learning new things easier because Damian had to figure out how exactly something worked in order to show Danny how to do it. Not only that, but when they practiced the moves on each other, Danny would change them and make it harder to beat him. Damian did win every time, but Danny wasn't half bad.

[eudaimaniacs]

cherry (old! logan howlett x female reader)

character/universe: logan howlett/wolverine (x-men/marvel)

word count: 1.7k words

warning/s: full-on smut (minors, dni). loss of virginity and age gap

notes: i have a headache from swimming yesterday but still managed to finish this in a day (so it's not proofread). i have tons of requirements to do so i may do an occasional small imagine once in a while. anyways, enjoy!

You started dating Logan six months ago, and when the conversation about sex came up, you shamefully admitted that you're still a virgin. You didn't want to look like a little girl to the older man since you knew that he had dated and slept with numerous women in the past. When you let out those three words of truth, you expected him to break up with you. However, Logan smirked and remarked how he hadn't fucked a virgin for a long time.

So, it was a matter of waiting for you to lose your virginity to Logan.

You went to your close friends for sex advice. They weren't experienced with the topic but teased that you're going to fuck an old, attractive man. With a few good luck, you readied yourself for the day Logan will take your virginity. You didn't bother searching online since watching porn made you cringe. Additionally, the boys you dated were either clueless or too eager only fuck you. Logan wasn't like them; he cared and didn't date you because you were innocent and pretty.

One night, when you stayed at Logan's house, you decided to lose your virginity finally. You wore a white lace-trimmed tank top with black pajama shorts. You used the cherry lipgloss you bought for this occasion to make the night extra special. Logan donned the wifebeater tank top you loved. His salt-and-pepper hair and beard made him extra sexy, or maybe it was the age gap.

You two cuddled on the queen-sized bed you cleaned before this night. The softness of the pillows and the blankets didn't lessen your anxiety. With you touching his chest and Logan snaking his hand around your waist, you waited for the opportunity to bring up the conversation about sex again.

"Logan, honey? I have something to ask you," you whispered as you scratched his chin.

The older man hummed in agreement as he waited for your question.

Finding the right words, you blurted out, "Are you ready to have sex with me tonight?" With wide eyes and a beating heart, you hoped Logan wouldn't notice your nervousness.

He chuckled and kissed your cheek. Logan remarked, "I'm ready when you are, princess."

Your gaze softened as Logan agreed to have sex with you. However, it dawned on you that you didn't know how to start. Were you supposed to pleasure Logan first, or is he the one who should do it first? Should you take off your clothes when does it too? Who goes first? Who comes second? Your mind raced with the inexperience you didn't bother to fix.

"What's the matter, [Y/N]?" Logan noticed that you weren't taking action. You didn't want to admit you didn't know what to do. What if Logan wasn't attracted to your inexperience? What if he hated how awkward you are at initiating sex?

You took a deep breath before admitting to Logan, "I'm n-not too s-s-sure what to do, Logan. I tried to, you know, do my research about sex. S-so I'm sorry if I seem to be aw-"

Logan cut you off before finishing to tell him the truth. He sat up and rested on the headboard. The older man commanded you to take a seat on his lap. You quickly followed and rested your head on his chest. The beat of his heart assured you that Logan would be understanding about your anxiety about sex.

"It's okay, [Y/N]. You don't have to worry about having sex for the first time. I'm here to guide you. Remember when I told you how I hadn't fucked a virgin for a long time? I want your first time to be special, [Y/N]," Logan softly whispered as he caressed your back to relieve you.

You giggled and raised your head to kiss his neck gently. Logan chuckled at your sudden, playful attitude after assuring you everything would be okay. You pushed up your chest against his, and the older man seethed as he saw your breasts.

"Look at you now. You're now teasing me with your boobs. I thought you were nervous," Logan chuckled as he massaged your butt. You gave him a beck before replying, "Maybe you cast a spell on me, honey. I got a bit fired up with that sweet talk you did."

Logan lifted your chin and saw your glossy eyes accompanied by the cherry lipgloss. Your innocence, mixed with playfulness and the cute face and outfit you had, made Logan's heart race. He couldn't believe that you trusted him to be your first time. His rough, veiny hands caress your shoulder as he toys with the thin strap of your top. Your breath hitched up at the older man's soft and sensual action. You touched his chest to support yourself and felt your pussy wanting to be touched.

You slowly rubbed your clothed vagina on his black denim jeans as Logan went under your top to grope your breasts. You let out a shaky moan as you chased your high. Logan smirked as he saw your face contorting at the newfound pleasure.

"Let me do something, princess. Lay down for me," Logan grabbed your thighs, leading you to stop rubbing your pussy against his jeans. You were unsatisfied that he prevented you from chasing your climax. However, you were equally excited about what he would do next. You lay down on the bed as Logan told you and waited for his following action.

Logan kneeled at the end of the bed and asked, "May I take off your shorts, princess?" His rough hands caress the softness of your covered thighs. You slowly nodded, not wanting to keep Logan waiting for your response. He chuckled and reassured you that he would always be patient with you. You felt Logan sliding off your black pajama shorts, and you lifted your legs for him to take it off easier. The older man sucked his teeth as the sight of your lacy pink panties appeared.

Your heart was beating fast since you were one undergarment away from exposing your pussy. Logan pushed the fabric to the side and smelled your arousal. Sweet. He slowly circled your clit and licked your pussy to taste you. Logan moaned as he ate you; he wanted to do it fast as he had never tasted a virgin pussy before. However, knowing this was your first time, he took it slow. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation of Logan's tongue pleasuring you. You grabbed the bedsheets and screamed his name.

As you felt your stomach twisting, Logan stopped and wiped his lips coated with your arousal. You curved your eyebrows in disappointment as Logan continued teasing you. You whined about how he should stop it and remarked that you wanted to orgasm badly. Logan grabbed the hem of your tank top, telling you to take them off. He fondled your breasts and kissed you.

Logan shushed you and whispered, "I'm only prepping you, princess. I'm now going to give you the real thing." He stood up and unbuckled his belt for his massive penis to escape. You gasped at the length of it. How is it going to fit you? You were both hungry and scared of the enormous cock staring at you.

"Don't worry, [Y/N]. I'll take it slow, and you tell me if I need to take it out. Got it, princess?" Logan stared at your lust-filled eyes, waiting for your approval. You whispered a soft yes as you braced yourself for his length to push in. Logan grabbed your hips as he slowly entered inside of you. Your eyes suddenly opened at the foreign sensation penetrating you.

You let out a few tears but remained strong as you didn't want to embarrass yourself by tapping out. Logan saw it and whispered, "[Y/N], are you okay? Do I need to take it out?"

You shook your head and responded, "I'm okay, Lo. I need to adjust a bit to your length." Logan heartily chuckled as he rested his head beside your neck. You hugged his back and waited for the pain to subside. Taking a deep breath, you let out a small moan, signaling Logan to pick up the pace.

Logan started to thrust slowly and made sure that you weren't crying because of the pain. He lifted himself and pounded you. You grabbed his chest as you felt the shape of his dick molding your pussy. You screamed his name and told him how good it felt. Logan saw your bouncing tits and squeezed them.

"Lo-Logan, please kiss me. P-please, I need you to kiss me," you panted as you grasped the sheets. Logan leaned in to passionately kiss you. He tasted the sweetness of cherry lipgloss and let his tongue in. You scratch his back as you feel your high coming.

"I'm a-about to-fuck. I'm cumming, Logan!" You screamed as the older man quickened his pace to reach his high, too. You cried out pleasure as you felt his dick growing inside of you.

Logan hungrily kissed your neck and groaned at the sensation of your tightness. He went wild as he sensed his orgasm chasing him. You grabbed his hair to brace yourself from the immense pleasure coming.

"Let go, princess. Fuck, I'm close too. Come on, princess. Cum for me," Logan moaned as he quickly pounded for the two of you to release. You felt a wave of pleasure crashing over you as Logan did one effective thrust. You screamed out his name as your legs went numb at the pleasure.

Logan stayed inside of you as he released his cum inside of you. He pulled out to see the sheets stained with blood and your once-virgin pussy leaking with his cum. The older man kissed your forehead and grabbed a towel at your dresser to clean you up.

"How was it, princess? Was it good?" Logan asked as he gently wiped your thighs. You sat and rested your head on the board to look at him better.

You giggled and replied, "That was the best, Logan. I couldn't have asked for anything better." He softly grinned and leaned in to give you a soft, deep kiss. Logan savored the sweet taste of the cherry lipgloss. You hummed as he continued kissing you. And as the night became darker, the two of you slept soundly as the imprint of your gloss and virginity marked Logan and his warm cum filling you.

eudaimaniacs - 2024

[heartfullofleeches]

"You aren't my partner."

How did you figure it out so soon?

This was never meant to happen. Liu swore to themselves they'd never live another person's life for the sake of love. As horrible as sounds is, they only took your partner's face to drive a wedge in your relationship. It should have been quick. A one and done deal, but the day they arrived at your home- The love pouring from you as you brisked them through the front door.

They just couldn't resist.

Surely, you didn't know for certain. It's all speculation- It has to be. If they play their cards right, they can safely weasel their way out of this. Find another way into your heart. As long as they didn't let their mask slip, there was still another chance.

"What...uh... What makes you say that, Love?"

Inhaling forkfuls of the most mouth watering eggs you've ever had the privilege to stuff pass your lips, you pause momentarily to take a few swigs of the fruit juice your "partner" made for you that morning. Not too runny, not too dry. Just like the juice was a perfect blend between the sweetest of sugar and the fruit's natural flavors.

"For starters...mmm." You lick the crumbs of toast from the corners of your mouth, scrapping the last few bites of egg onto the remainder of the bread left on your plate. "My partner - Well, my ex, couldn't cook to save their life. That, and I'm pretty sure they've been cheating on me for the past month and a half. I was planning on confronting them the night you showed up - man, this is good - but then you made me dinner that was the best home cooked meal I had in ages and the thought slipped my mind."

Your...ex. "I know there's still a lot we need to discuss, but since you're single do you think we could-"

"If whoever you are underneath that disguise looks half as good as you can cook, we can get married this weekend for all I care."

Liu combs their hair over the sides of their face - their cheeks splitting from the stretch of their smile. "I suppose I should get myself ready for our first proper date then."

[ferritins]

PUTTIN’ ON THE RITZ | B. WAYNE

SUMMARY: You’re Bruce Wayne’s long suffering personal assistant. On a time crunch, you (re)teach him how to apply cologne.

NOTES: belligerent tension, Bruce is characterised more on the socialite side than Batman, though Batman is alluded to. Suggestive ending.

For all the years that you’ve been his PA, you’ve never quite understood the borderline hysteria surrounding Bruce Wayne.

The perils of having a pretty face and old money, you suppose; sex appeal sells, and the prestige of an established name and old money that lend him an air of modern-day Gilded Age aristocrat surely can’t hurt.

Not that it's of particular interest or importance to you; you're a member of the hoi polloi through and through.

The closest to celebrity you've ever come is being mistaken as Bruce’s latest paramour in some of your more extravagant efforts trying to prevent his sartorial and interpersonal disasters before they happen.

Speaking of which; as he goes to apply his cologne, you drop the lint roller you're passing over his broad shoulders and the elegant lines of his Kiton suit and grab his wrist before he can douse himself in the strong scent, aghast.

“You’re not putting cologne on like that, surely?”

Bruce quirks a dark eyebrow. "Unless you're expecting me to break the bottle over my head, sweetheart, there's not really another way to apply cologne."

“I am choosing to ignore that nickname, because unlike you, I am a consummate professional.” You inform Bruce, tone somewhere between haughty and resigned. “I know you know how to wear cologne. Mr. Pennyworth is the gentleman’s gentleman, there’s no way he didn’t teach you.”

“Oh, Alfred gets Mr. Pennyworth, but I get Bruce?”

“Mr. Pennyworth doesn’t tear loaned formal wear, disappear at inoppurtune moments, or make a tit of himself at networking events.” You huff. “You, however…”

Bruce chuckles, all baritenor delight at your insouciance towards him.

You roll your eyes.

Spray some on your wrists and dab them together, then come here and loosen your tie."

“Not that I'm not flattered, but I really don’t think we've got the time." He teases, daubing the cologne on his wrists, long fingers of his unoccupied hand working the Windsor knot of his tie loose.

Immune to his affected charm through long exposure, you sigh.

“Keep it in your trousers, Bruce. Tonight, you're learning how to wear cologne properly, again. Do you mind if I unbutton your collar?"

Bruce hums a permissive note, gaze hawkish as you step into his personal space.

“Right. So, as you already know, you want to put cologne at the pulse points on either side of your neck; your body heat will help the alcohol carrier agent evaporate faster. If you're using a lighter fragrance or a perfume oil, you'd put it behind your ears." You explain.

As you speak, you pluck the bottle of fragrance from his grasp with your unoccupied hand, and spritz his neck with it, swapping hands to hold his collar away and do the same the other side of his neck.

Finally, you spray the base of his neck; the mist of cologne gathers into a single small droplet that traces down into the hollow of his suprasternal notch.

“(All done.” You announce, stepping back.

Bruce buttons up his collar, works the silk of his tie back into a Windsor knot with infuriating ease.

“I still think it would have been less fuss to just spray it on over the fabric.”

“Lazy. Just be thankful you don't have to do your ankles." You say as you turn to put the bottle back on the dark oak of his dresser.

Heinously late, cognition kicks in, and the realisation of what you’ve just said strikes you like a thunderbolt. You close your eyes briefly, hoping against hope that Bruce’s more airheaded tendencies have kicked in, and the context has flown over his head.

When you finally steel yourself enough to turn back to face him, you find that the universe has not been so merciful; Bruce is staring at you, a wicked glee in his expression.

"Anyway! That’s specifically to perfume." You obfuscate. "The car is probably out front by now; if you're done, let's head out."

“No, no; you’re going to explain that delightful little tidbit before we go anywhere.”

Heat floods your face.

“You clearly know exactly what I meant. Let it go, it was a faux pas.”

Bruce says your name in a low rumble.

You parrot his name back at him in a faintly beseeching tone, begging him not to choose this moment to be a petty tyrant.

Bruce’s response is to raise an expectant eyebrow.

The standoff lasts as long as it takes you to check your watch, your resolve fracturing at the first hint of threat to your meticulously crafted schedule.

“Fine!” You snap, stepping close and dropping your voice to a murmur, to minimise the odds of anyone overhearing the frankly mortifying disclosure.

“You spray perfume on your ankles so that when you've got them over your partner's shoulders, they'll associate the perfume with you."

A faint flush floods the high planes of Bruce’s cheekbones, even as his smile turns gloating and distinctly carnivorous.

C Caught up in your own humiliation, you push past him, out of the dressing room, and quite miss the way his eyes trail down your legs to where the jut of your ankle bone is emphasised by your heels, and the considering smirk that his mouth pulls into as he follows you.

[uranometrias]

nobody ever loved me like you do, spencer reid

just a little prompt i couldn't get out of my head. this is majority fluff, it got kind of heavy towards the end, but no smut because i'm a coward, reader is a university student, there's an age gap between reader + spencer, unspecified, but reader is over 22. based off of 'pov' by ariana grande.

this absolutely got long as shit, i don't know how to be normal. (5.6k wrds)

"what's on your mind?" you hadn't realized you'd gone quiet until you feel the dip of the couch. it takes a moment to snap out of the little moment you've dug yourself into, but when you do you're pleasantly surprised to see your boyfriend on the couch next to you. he grabs hold of the book you'd haphazardly discarded, and flips it over. you imagine internally he's tsking at you, he was always reminding you to be careful of the spine of the books you read, but you're happy he doesn't make a move to scold you about it now. instead, he closes it, and places it in his lap, letting his eyes trace all over your pretty face.

"is everything okay?" he prods, and in truth, you were fine. you didn't really know why you'd gotten so lost in your head, it just happened sometimes. domesticity was still fairly new, and despite the fact that your relationship with spencer had gotten to the point where you both were comfortable staying at each other's places for long periods of time, you still kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. spencer was the first guy you'd been with that was older, already established, had a 'big boy job' as you so eloquently labeled it. he had security.

not that you were some lazy, unprepared individual letting your life slip by, but you were still figuring things out. you were in university, and you had big dreams and hopes for your future, it just felt like it was taking forever to get there. to your future. everyone was always telling you not to wish away your youth, but by law you were no longer a child, you hadn't been for a while. your twenties were meant to be for 'figuring things out', finding yourself all over again, or that's what you were always hearing. over time it felt easier said than done.

the point was when you were still uncertain about what you wanted to spend the rest of your life doing, it was hard to feel grown up. especially when you had a boyfriend like spencer who was always doing something to raise the bar for humanity. he was a genius, he worked for one of the most prestigious units in the fbi, he was in the fbi... that in itself was an accomplishment. he had phds, bachelor degrees, and an extensive knowledge of literature in numerous languages and texts. to top it all off, he really was a great boyfriend.

you supposed it was just you feeling a bit insecure. you didn't believe that he expected too much of you, but that didn't stop you from putting unnecessary pressure on yourself. "everything's fine." you promise, and you tack on a warm smile to really sell it. the action triggers an involuntary smile from spencer, and you feel a bit faint, just because he's so pretty. "i was just watching you read." you admit, and it was true, you had gotten a bit lost in how quickly spencer was speeding through his own book. it didn't trigger insecurity, it just left you in awe at how absurdly lucky you were to have bagged spencer.

"yeah?" and he's got this edge to his voice that he usually gets when he's tired, sleepy, content. it was comforting, knowing that he was comfortable being here, like this with you. "are you sure that you're alright?" and he's leaning forward, hand cupping your cheek as he rubs his thumb over your jaw, and you lean into him. "you know you can talk to me about anything." he adds, and he's perceptive. you're certain that part of this has to do with his job, and the other part has a lot to do with the fact that he knows you so well.

"i know." you answer instantly, and you bring your hand up to hold over top his. "trust me, i know. that's why i like you so much." you beam brightly, and you lean in and press a quick kiss to his lips. it's a peck, and it sounds like one with the way that your lips smack together. you note his disappointment when you pull away just as he moved to kiss you a bit more fiercely. you find yourself giggling a bit as he pouts at you, and you lean in to offer him another kiss.

"like?" he asks, and you know he's fishing, but for what you're not sure. his eyes never look as bright as they do when he's sitting across from you. it offers you a bit of an ego boost to know that someone as handsome as your spencer consistently looks so enamored and enraptured with you. "i thought that we were a little past like..." he says, and your nose scrunches up at his big doe-eyed stare. "am i wrong about that?" and he holds his breath.

"no, you're right." you promise, and he relaxes. "we're past that." spencer looks relieved, and you wonder sometimes what's going on in his mind. he doesn't say anything for a while, he just looks at you, his thumb continues to draw soothing circles on your face, and you think you might be convinced to fall asleep if he keeps it up. "i'm sorry." you offer, and spencer's immediately shaking his head at you.

"don't apologize." he presses, and he's peeling his hand away from your face. now it's your turn to be disappointed. "and if you don't feel like we're past the 'i like yous'... that's okay too." and he looks sad now. it's your least favorite expression on him, and you wonder if you've done something wrong. "i don't want you to feel like you're rushing yourself, okay? or like you're forcing yourself to feel anything that you don't." he says, and your eyebrows furrow inward, face contorting.

"i don't feel that way." you deny sternly. spencer's head tips to the side, curls following along, and the urge to run your hands through his hair almost chokes you out. "spencer, i don't feel that way." you reiterate, and you hate that his expression doesn't change. you hate that he looks like he doesn't believe you. "i have too many feelings for you." you admit, and you shake your head. "all of the feelings." you insist, and the problem is that you haven't managed to fully verbalize what that means. spencer's told you that he loves you, often.

you haven't managed to say it back, but not because you don't believe it. it's more so out of worry that once you tell him, things will get too real. you'll grow too comfortable, and by-proximity expose parts of yourself that spencer might not be ready for. things that'll make him run for the hills, and take his sweet i love yous with him. "that's a lot of feelings." spencer replies, and he sighs deep, chest moving with the action. you smile, mostly to ward off the tension.

he doesn't return it, and you suddenly feel anxious. "do you want-" he trails off, and he looks conflicted. "if you wanted to break up..." and your heart sinks. "you would tell me, wouldn't you?" he asks, and you immediately reach out for him, his hands curling into yours as you interlock your fingers. you want to slam your head into a wall, mostly for worrying him in this way. The last thing you'd been thinking about was a breakup, in fact, you'd finally resided yourself to the fact that you were in this relationship as long as spencer wanted you.

"do you think that's what this is about?"

"isn't it?" his quick retort makes you frown, and now you're facing one another with matching pouts. "i just want you to trust me with your feelings... all of them." he explains. "even the ones i might not enjoy the most." he treads lightly, and you find that there's nobody in the world who could matter more to you. "and i'm sorry if i haven't been doing enough to let you know that." and you huff in annoyance, but not with him. never with him. with yourself for overthinking.

"you've got it all wrong." you tell him, and you hope your words sound as definitive as they feel. "a breakup is the farthest thing from my mind." you shuffle a bit on the couch, mostly to invade the space he just took. you don't stop moving until he's back in your orbit, your knees brushing against his leg. "i've never met anyone like you before." and it feels cliche, but you suppose you've earned the right to quote the words, because they're true. "i think as far as expectations for boyfriends go, you managed to smash through them all."

spencer finds himself nervous under the onslaught of kind words. he can't look away from you though, because it's so rare when you let him into your head. despite all his profiling skills, you were still almost completely a mystery. he understood your physical cues, but the emotional ones were still hard to pinpoint. "i think sometimes i still keep waiting for you to realize how amazing you are..." and he has that annoying feeling of giddiness in his stomach. it feels childish, but he adores the rush loving you continues to give him.

"i think i'm a little aware." he says, and you laugh. your hands reach out, and now you're the one holding his face. he thinks it's a comfort thing of yours, the way you like to hold onto him when you're talking. his apprehension towards touch was no match for the way your hands on his face brought him a feeling of comfort like nothing else.

"and you still want to be with me?" you ask, and you don't sound bashful, more confused than anything else. spencer's confusion soon matches your own, his eyebrows furrowing as he recites your words over and over in his head. what sort of question was that? "i just mean that there's so many types of women out there... you work with so many." and your mind drifts to his closeness with the girls he worked with in the fbi. namely jennifer jareau.

you'd only met her a few times, you knew she was married with sons, but you couldn't shake the thought that if she wanted him she could have him. she was older, more confident, disastrously pretty. "i just don't understand why someone like you would want to be with someone like me." you express, and spencer is flabbergasted. he forces you to peel your hands from his face, instead choosing to hold your hands and squeeze them gingerly.

"someone like you?" and he wants you to get it all out, every last bit of it, mostly so that he can correct every incorrect notion about yourself that you expose.

"someone who's immature, naive, inexperienced, uncertain about almost every major decision... you know? someone like me." you divulge, and he winces. "you've got so much going for you, i just don't want you to feel like i'm holding you back." you admit. "so when i saw you reading... i don't know-" you trail off, and spencer's eyes shoot across the room to his own discarded book. "i guess i just remembered how incredible you are, and how severely inadequate i must be in comparison." and your voice gets quieter as you finish.

"you could never hold me back." he states firmly. "and even more than that... i don't think it's actually possible for someone to really hold you back." he admits, and you feel him beginning to start on a tangent, though you don't mind. they were far and few in between these days. "to me it always seemed more like an excuse people use to place blame on someone else for their shortcomings." spencer's let go of your hands, and you watch them as he gestures boisterously. "for everything i'm good at, there's so many areas where i fall short."

you don't think you've ever loved him more.

"and who says phd's and fast reading skills are what make a person better suited or fit for anything?" and he knows that you want to rebuttal, so he continues so you don't get the chance to. "my skills help me with the job that i do... we can agree that's true, right?" he asks, and you nod your head. "right. but, you don't want to have my job, do you?" he asks, and your nose curls up. you thought that what spencer did was admirable, you loved celebrating the victories with him, you knew it was important, but you don't think you had it in you.

"no, i guess not." you disagree.

"and you don't need to be called 'doctor' or hold a gun, or kick down doors, in order to be... a suitable life partner."

"you're not kicking down any doors, spencer." you crack a joke, and you like that he laughs, it's the kind that morphs into a toothy smile.

"maybe not, i just mean that out of the two of us, you're not the one who needs to worry about not being adequate... i don't think there's anything in existence that would make me not want to be with you." and you feel bashful, but know full well that you can't pull your eyes away from him. "you're a lot to lose." he exhales, and you blink. "and you don't need doctorates or much of anything for that to be the case." spencer beams a little bit, "you captivate people without even realizing it sometimes." spencer's hand moves to rest on your thigh.

"you think so?"

"sometimes i try and figure out how i got so lucky, and i hope that i keep doing whatever it takes to make you stay." he admits. "does that make sense?" he asks, and you feel your heart wanting to burst out of your chest.

"it makes a lot of sense." you agree. "and i can guarantee that as long as you want me, you'll have me." you promise.

"and if i want you forever?" he asks, and you smile despite yourself.

"then i guess you're stuck with me forever, doctor reid." and he likes the thought a lot more than he anticipated. he thinks that's why he can't ignore the urge to kiss you. he leans forward, lips overtaking yours like a magnet being pulled towards a kindred force. you almost pounce, finding yourself rooted on top of his lap, fingers finally finding solace in his hair, as his hands scope out your waist and the curve of your hips.

you hum when his lips peel away from yours, landing on your neck as he peppered the space with kisses and small bites. kissing spencer was a surefire way to get you both started down a path of insatiability. it was dangerous, but you supposed with the conversation context in mind, it made perfect sense for this to be the end result. still, it feels like there's more to say, and you suppose that it's why you tighten your hold on his hair just slightly, craning your neck to give him all the access he needs. "spence?" you gasp.

he doesn't verbally acknowledge you, instead his arms loop around you, bringing you closer as he proceeds to leave hickeys in areas that would be much too difficult to hide. "spence..." you try again.

"i'm listening." he promises before he's placing a kiss just behind your ear. it makes you squirm, suddenly feeling lightheaded as his grip on your waist tightens slightly.

"can you tell me again?" you ask, and you don't want to ruin the moment, especially after he just sweetly poured his heart out to you. "tell me how you feel about me..." you instruct a bit more impatiently. spencer's more interested in leaving more marks on your skin, but he also enjoys the vulnerability that comes with expressing himself to you. he pulls away from your neck with one last peck, before his lust-filled gaze is locked on yours. you've taken to raking your nails through his hair, gently dragging against his scalp.

"you still don't know?" he asks, and part of you thinks he's doing this on purpose. it's not until you register the slight upturn of his lips that you recognize that he's teasing you.

"is it so bad that i want to hear it again?" you press, and you're feeling a bit impatient, mostly because you're itching to finally spit the three word phrase out, but you want him to say it first.

"no." he denies, head shaking. "it's not bad at all, and i don't mind telling you, but, can you ask me the right way?" and you feel the shift, the way his fingers finally slip under your shirt. it makes you jump, the way his fingertips trace over the skin of your lower back. "what are you fishing for, pretty girl?" you don't have the courage to stare at him anymore, instead you find your head glued to his chest, eyes squeezed shut, as your arms looped around him.

"i'm not fishing." you deny, and spencer presses a swift kiss to the top of your head. despite the desire to 'get to the good part' that you know you both feel, you still enjoy this part. the clinginess, the way he showered you in attention and affection that you had never believed yourself worthy of. he loved you so openly, so easily. it never felt like a burden, it never felt like something he had to try too hard at. you liked that, you liked that he made falling in love so easy.

"no?" he doesn't sound convinced. "what are you hoping i'll say then? i know you have an idea." he says and his chin is resting on the top of your head as he adjusts you on his lap. the tension still rests in the air, but he's holding you like he's comforting you almost, arms looped around you in an almost-hug that feels warm and comfortable and familiar. it's the kind that you could get lost in, fall asleep in. maybe you will, just as soon as you get through this last little emotional hoop.

"you don't know everything."

"did i say that?" he corrects you lowly, he's not impatient with you, and you wonder how long it took him to garner enough stamina to keep up with your sass.

"no." you deny, and he hums in agreement. you've taken to running your hands up and down his back, palms closing and opening as you try and quiet your anxiety. "i want to hear you say that you love me again." you admit, and it feels like a lump is forming in your throat. "i know that you do." you add a second after. "but sometimes i like to hear it anyway..." you clear your throat. "it makes me feel-" and you trail off, because you haven't really gotten over this hurdle.

spencer's smiling, and you know that he is, because as much as he knows you, you think you know him a little bit too. "how does it make you feel?" he asks, and you shake your head, eliciting an amused sort of exhale. "you can tell me anything." he reminds you, and of course you know that. "or we could move on... if it's too much to say right now." he offers you an out like the gentleman he always has been. "do you want to go back to before?" and you definitely want to kiss him.

maybe do a bit more than kiss.

"yes." you agree, but when it seems like he's about to move, you hold him even tighter to you. "wait, no." you deny, and he's exhaling through his nose. you cringe, because you know that sometimes you can be indecisive, but you think about what he'd told you earlier. you remind yourself that he wanted you, and you calm down. "i want to kiss you again." you start, and he doesn't say anything, because he knows you're not finished. "but i want to finish our conversation first." you huff, and he's surprised, in a pleasant sort of way.

"we can do that." he promises, "what do you want to tell me?"

"i like when you tell me that you love me." you admit, and you think it's good that you're not looking at him. you also like that he's still lightly dragging his fingers along your waist, it makes you shy, but you welcome it. "it's not something that you just tell everyone, so i like that you tell me, even though i haven't said it back." you feel like you're losing your breath as you rush to get it out. "and i like how what you said earlier makes me feel."

"how's that?" and spencer is spencer. he likes to drag things like this out, he likes for you to elaborate, to explain yourself. you suppose he likes to hear you just as much as you like to hear him.

"i don't know how to express it really, but it feels nice. 'cause you always sound like you mean it when you say it." you freeze when his fingers stop their slow journey, but you don't have time to focus on that right now. "not like butterflies, but it's like stabilizing." you shrug your shoulders. "and it's not the sort of thing that feels like it comes with some sort of price. like i don't hear it, and think 'oh he's only saying this because he wants to sleep with me', it doesn't-" you inhale. "it doesn't make me anxious or anything."

spencer's disappointed that his memory mostly works for things he's seen rather than heard, because he wants to relive this conversation for the rest of his life. it's a bit unheard of, especially in his lifetime. he's seen people in love, he's witnessed incredible relationships, but nothing he's seen has ever compared to the way that you manage to make him feel. he's had girlfriends, one-night-stands, experimentations, and things in between that felt like they could be the real thing, eventually. being with you though feels easy.

even when things go wrong, when you're too stubborn to communicate, and he's too tired to fight for you to, it still feels easy. like the struggles that come with your relationship are struggles he's willing to deal with. you're someone he's willing to deal with.

"it makes me want to stay." you offer, and it's scary, mostly because you've got the world's worst habit of running away when things get too real. you packed your bags at the first inconvenience, it was who you were, who you had been before spencer. you didn't stick around to fight for your relationships, you didn't let anyone fight for you either. "like... like even if things go horribly wrong, it'll still be okay as long as you still sound like you mean it when you say i love you."

you don't think you'll cry, but you do think once you're all finished, you'll want to stay wrapped up in him like this.

"i've just never met anyone that makes life make so much sense." and your leg is slightly shaking, and you're burrowing even deeper into his chest, holding him just a bit tighter. "so please... can you tell me again?" you ask, and your hands have taken fistfuls of his shirt, curling just slightly as you try and will your heartbeat to slow.

"you all done?" he asks, and you nod your head, all done with talking for now. "i'm so proud of you." and your confusion is back, as well as your ability to talk.

"what for?" you inquire, and he unloops his arms from around you. you don't want to move, but you know where this is going. still, you decide you'll wait until he asks you.

"can you look at me, please?" he asks quietly, and you're immediately pulling back, hands in your lap as you take in all the emotions resting on your boyfriend's face.

"oh, spence!" and you hope he's not about to cry. you've never been privy to it, but you can imagine what it'll do to you in your emotionally high state. "i know that was a lot, i'm sorry." you apologize despite the fact that you've done nothing wrong, a bad habit.

"please don't ever apologize for something like that." he corrects you gently. "i'm proud, because i can imagine how hard that likely was, but you did it anyway, so thank you for sharing how you're feeling with me." you look away just for a second, the moment feeling too heavy for you to manage. you're looking back at him just a moment after, his stare something you've always been terrible at ignoring and avoiding. "would it be a let down if i told you that i feel the same way about you?" he asks, and you wonder if this phase ever ends.

you don't want to wake up one day and find that your smile no longer reaches your eyes when you look at him, or hear his voice.

"no." you answer quietly. "i like when you agree with me, especially about your feelings for me." and it's a small joke, one you partially mean. "but, you still haven't told me that you love me, yet." you remind him a bit more sternly than you have been.

"i know." he retorts, and he looks a bit smug. you want to say that you hate when he gets like this, but you know you're lying. "i'm waiting to see how long it'll take you to crack." he admits, and your nose curls. he beams at you, and you want to glare, just for the fun of it. "why are you determined not to say it first?" he asks, and you cross your arms over your chest, busted.

"you don't know what's in my head." you instead argue, and his eyes roll, but he still seems amused. "i can say it first if i very well wish." you add, and his eyebrows raise, a challenge. unlucky for you, because you had a problem with being challenged. you would always walk right into his trap like a fool.

"so then say it." he taunts, and you realize pride is one hell of a killer.

"fine, i will." you retort, voice laced in mock-aggravation. "i love you." you deadpan, you say it like it's a bother. "happy now?"

"not with that attitude. can you try again? say it like you mean it?" he presses, and you're weaker in the knees than you initially believed. all your bravado goes right out the window, and you're suddenly anxious again, with no bite to curb your words, you're certain he'll hear every ounce of emotion you feel towards him if you say it again.

"spence." you exclaim, and he's not moved. you think you hate him just a little. "it's not fair, you're being mean." you express, looking down at your lap, and you know that you're only behaving this way because you're overwhelmed.

"i'm not." he promises, and he ducks just a little so that you're looking directly at him again. "i wouldn't be, especially not about this." he adds. "i just want you to say it again for me, can you do that? please?" he asks, and you hate how absurdly handsome he is sitting across from you. he's got this way of looking innocent even when he's baiting you, and he's always got this intensity in his stare that's enough to knock the wind out of you. it's kryptonite, and precisely why you concede.

"spencer, i love you." he groans, quietly, but you hear him all the same. he's kissing you before you can react, and it's easy getting lost in moments like these. he always kisses you like he's trying to swallow you whole, too handsy for his own good. his kisses are desperate, tongue swiping out just slightly, likely to test the waters. you match his ferocity, and let your own tongue drag over his bottom lip before you press a bit more forcibly, hurriedly, desperately.

"i love you." you don't know why you're saying it again, but it's not as hard as the first time. you kiss him again, grumbling when he's quick to lean out of reach. you shoot him a sour glance, and he's not moved.

"hey, i love you too." he echoes you in the most love sick sort of way. it feels precisely as you had described it earlier, and that makes you happier. the fact that the feelings didn't change, didn't disappear all because you'd said the three words back. you hum contentedly, and then your head is back on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. "does it still sound like i mean it?" he asks, he questions you softly, like he's trying to preserve the moment.

"mhm." you answer quietly, and you strain to kiss his throat once, before your back to resting against him. "did it sound like i meant it?" you mimic his line of questioning, and you're happy when his arms are back around you. he's a lot more respectable this time around, but before long, his hands are finding their chosen place back under your shirt, exploring your waist and hips as you try not to squirm.

"yes." he replies, and you're glad to hear it. "can you say it again?" you suppose in the grand scheme, you do have lots to make up for. he'd probably want you to say it over and over again.

"i love you." it's instantaneous, as is the way spencer's hold on you grows more firm. you hadn't wanted to mention it, the way sitting here like this with him had you itching for more, but it seemed you weren't the only one in that headspace. "spence?" you question, and he's dragging his hand up and down your back, legs starting to bounce just slightly.

"yeah?"

"can we go back to before now?" you ask, and you expect him to be a tease. he could never just give you what you wanted, he always had to drag it out, and make you nervous.

"back to before?" he pries, and he's leading. you huff audibly, and you adjust yourself on his lap, trying to control the way the pit in your stomach seemed to grow warm, heating you up from the inside. "you'll have to be a bit more specific than that, love." he tsks, and you hate him.

"i just-" you frown, hating this part. "i want you." you deadpan. "and you know that, so i don't know why you're being like this." except you do, because it's amusing to spencer to watch you get all flustered and nervous. you don't know why, but it's how he is. you think that one day you'll try your hand at flustering him back, just to see what all the hype is about. "i want you to-" and you're not sure exactly what counts for too blunt with a boyfriend like spencer. "let's f-fuck, okay?" and spencer's got that stupid amused look on his face again.

god, you hate him.

"that wasn't too hard was it?" he questions, and you cut your eyes. you're certain he'll make you pay for the looks, and the smart mouth down the line, but you can't care right now.

"it was excruciating." you correct haughtily. "you should be ashamed of yourself for treating the girl that you love this way." you add, and spencer's got his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he takes you in. you gulp, shuffling just slightly as you realize precisely the predicament you've gotten yourself into.

"do you want me to make it up to you?" he asks, and he sounds breathier than before, which only serves to make you more of a hot-and-bothered mess.

"i-" you blink owlishly, unsure of his intentions.

"yes or no?" he presses, and you think either way this goes, your done for. "you've just got to say the word."

"yes." head nodding, eyes blown to hell, it's easy enough. "you should. you definitely should." you respond, and then he's kissing you again. he's much more intense this time, stealing all of the air out of your lungs as his nails scratch against your skin, you hands moving to cup his face, you hope to keep him anchored to you this way. when he breaks from the kiss again, you're ready to lay into him, only to squeak when he scoops you up, standing up from the chair.

your legs immediately lock around his hips, and you're panting already, he seemed to have that constant effect. all it took was a little kissing, and you were already a mess. "i love you." he says this like it's a reminder, and you are quick to chase his mouth with your own. you could say you were a bit obsessed with the act.

"i know." you reply, and his eyes roll at you, but he still looks as love sick as you feel.

"good. i'm going to need you to remember that, because when we get to the bed, i'm going to do a lot of things that might make you think the opposite." he says this like a definitive promise, and you gasp. "do you understand?" he asks, and you're shivering, the anticipation already managing to strike you down.

"yeah-yes!" you stutter. "i understand, it's okay." you add. spencer's already got this look of pride residing in his eyes, and you know that you're in for it, silly you for thinking love confessions would be enough to get you out of all the backtalk and clear attitude. "i'm ready!" you insist like the eager girl you are.

"we'll see." he retorts.

god, you love him.

[frogchiro]

Also I was thinking about something slightly...darker i guess?? I'm in a very weird headspace rn and this is my therapy

cw: legal age gap, creepy Simon and generaly unsettling behavior, obsessive and possessive Ghost, he's a pushy dick in this and very much a scumbag, he kinda gets off on seeing you helpless

How about reader who got recently kicked out by her shitty parents, 'she's now an adult and needs to start acting like that', except now she's barely in her 20's with little to nothing to her name except her clothes, the little money she managed to save over the years and a job as a waitress in a small café.

Putting together the saving she manages to rent out an apartment that was almost suspiciously cheap, not to mention the shady landlord who only contacted her through the phone but she couldn't just crash at her friend's place forever.

The moment you arrived at the destination you knew why was the place so ridiculously cheap; this build was...something. An old dilapitating apartment building, four stories high with old wooden-framed windows, some of them smashed. Empty beer bottles laid smashed next to the stairs mixing with cigarette butts, graffiti covered the ground floor walls and a very sad looking patch of grass that you think was supposed to be a garden were solemnly staring back at you as if taunting 'come on, try and run'.

Imagine sleazy neighbour Simon, dishonorably discharged from the army and now living in this shithole too, who takes a deep interest in the pretty young thing that moved in recently, almost growling when he first caught your scent; fresh and kinda sweet, feminine and clean. Definitely not the smells that he's accustomed to here: stale cigarettes, the stench of alcohol and wet dirt and fuck knows what else those creepy fuckers are concocting in their holes in here.

You're clearly new to...this. Simon can almost taste it; you were probably kicked out after pa and ma decided they're done with you...But who could throw out a pretty flower like you? Soft, trembling body, wide doe eyes almost brimming with tears of fright, fuck it does things to him.

Simon sure as hell wouldn't mind the company of a soft young woman like you, and he's pretty sure you wouldn't mind being protected and taken care of by a big, strong male like himself, right?

Even if you do, it's not like you have any say in that.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Day 2: Woods + Day 23: Witch for @steddie-spooktober

"Did you come to burn the witch?"

Steve just blinked at the weird man. He was probably a bit taller than him, with wild curls of hair and a mischievous smile. "Why should I?" he quipped back. "It's fucking hot, I came to the woods to cool down. The last thing I want is to get even warmer. Fire's warm."

The man just snorted. "Oh, I got a smart one today. Good for me." He hopped down from the tree he was sitting in and landed in front of Steve. "Such a pretty one too. They never send someone pretty to burn me."

"Once again, I'm not here to burn you."

The witch clutched his chest. "Ouch. And here I thought we had a spark."

Steve didn't dignify that with a response.

And the witch didn't let that deter him. "You know, a spark? As in...a spark that would start a fire? With, I don't know, a nice stake in the middle?"

Steve groaned and rubbed his temples. "If I agree to burn you, will you let me sweat in peace? I hear a spring nearby and I really need to cool down before I pass out from the heat."

The man shook his head. "You people. You cut down the trees for your villages and then wonder why you get a sunstroke." He glanced at Steve's red face, his sweaty hair, and for a second longer, his damp shirt. "Well, I'm a mean, evil witch, but I'm not that cruel. The spring's this way, come with me."

It only took a while for Steve to take of his shoes and dip his feet into the nearby spring, groaning in relief. The witch was crouched next to him, studying his face. "So really. How did you get here? I thought I was a cautionary tale for all the good children in the village, so they never let you go this way unless you need something."

Steve muttered something unintelligible.

"Huh? What's that?"

"...got lost."

The witch's face broke out in a wide grin. "Did you now? Such a big boy, not seeing the warning signs on the trees?"

Steve just grunted and leaned down to splash his face with water, then drink some. "I don't know, man. Must have been the heat. I was working in a field and fell asleep. Stupid, I know. When I woke up, I was so dizzy I thought it was a great idea to go to the woods. I could barely remember my name - that's Steve, by the way, if you need it for a hex or something. I was walking around for what seemed like ages. Then you asked me to burn you. And here I am."

"And here you are," repeated the witch. "Well, you obviously don't have any matches on you, so we're cool, I guess. Name's Eddie, although I rarely use it."

"Because you're a big bad witch?" snorted Steve.

Eddie shrugged. "Well, yeah. Because when others talk about me, they don't think I'm a person. I'm a boogeyman to them. Someone who kills their crops, trades remedies for firstborn children for dinner...the usual stuff."

"Do they taste good?"

That gave Eddie a pause. "What does?"

"The firstborn children."

Eddie stared at Steve. Steve stared back. Then they both burst into laughter at the same time. "Suppose I should invite you for dinner so you can answer that?" said Eddie after they had finally quieted down.

Steve smiled at him, and Eddie could swear he winked at him. "Suppose you should."

...

Steve stayed for dinner - no children were served, but lots of vegetables and delicious herbs - and Eddie made sure he was fully okay before letting him go. "Sunstroke's no joke, Steve, no sleeping in the field or I'll curse you! Stop giggling, I'll do it! I'll send my cat to eat your ears or something!"

With Steve's footsteps sounding more and more distant, Eddie's cottage grew quiet again. For the fist time in years, he hated it.

The quiet lasted until the next evening, when there was a knock on his door, and behind it, Steve. He was carrying some grapes and apples, a fresh loaf of bread, and it seemed he'd even combed his hair and wore a clean shirt. 

Eddie just stared at him. "You got lost again?" he asked incredulously. Because no one came back to him. Not unless they needed something.

Steve just shushed him and headed directly to the table, setting the plates as if it had been his home too. "You know what's great about all the warning signs on the trees? They will always lead me back to you."

Eddie's face was starting to hurt from all the smiling. "So you can burn me?" he asked with a snort, well, maybe a tiny sob too.

"Burning you would be a shame," said Steve as he lit a small candle on the table, "since I have much better ideas how to spend our evening."

Eddie popped a grape in his mouth. "Funny," he mumbled around it, "so do I."

[longagoitwastuesday]

I think Kline's Cyrano was often too funny in emotionally charged scenes, yes, but I adored how he was particularly vicious, rurthless and violent at times when crossed. The mix of being fun yet terrible worked so well. The way Cyrano says, smiling, the "Even if you possessed the words and wit / I'd never let you get away with it" line encompassed that perfectly.

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 19 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: With an uncertain future, Bradley gets ready to leave for Virginia. But he works on a plan to make sure you understand just how much he will be thinking about you.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, adult banter, desperate Bradley, 18+

Length: 5400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley felt sick to his stomach as soon as he saw the stationery set. At this point, the only thing on his mind was quitting his job so the two of you didn't have to be separated. The paper looked expensive; he would have loved to sit in his bunk and write line after line to you and your class, but he wouldn't be able to do that at all. 

"We can go back to being pen pals for a bit," you whispered, your hand coming to rest on his thigh, giving him a little squeeze. "I'll be refreshing my email inbox and waiting not so patiently for my mail to arrive. It'll be great. That's how I fell in love with you in the first place."

He felt guilty even though he had no control over the scenario. His heart hurt with loneliness already as he set the gift you gave him on the coffee table and buried his face in his hands. "Gorgeous. That's not gonna happen." He swallowed past the lump in his throat and turned to look at you out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm confused," you said, hand still on his leg. He covered your fingers with his rougher ones and pulled gently until you climbed onto his lap. 

"Oh, god," he groaned, giving you a kiss before linking his fingers with yours. "I love that set of note cards. I would have taken them with me everywhere during my free time, and I would have written to your class constantly. And you would have been the recipient of some rambling love notes to be sure." Your brow was still creased with concern as he said, "No outside communication. For seven weeks."

Your expression went slack as a single tear rolled down your cheek. "You're joking."

"I'm not."

Bradley held onto your fingers as you whispered, "This keeps getting worse," through more tears. Your broken voice made his chest ache as you leaned closer until your cheek was resting on his shoulder. "I could go ages without you in person, but if I can't talk to you at all... Bradley."

Nobody else ever loved him the way you did. He'd be miserable without your letters, emails, dirty pictures and pretty face over video calls, but he finally had someone who would miss him equally. 

"I know," he muttered, wrapping his arms around you. "It's seven weeks of nothing."

You were crying in earnest now as you clung to him. "Nothing," you sobbed. "I won't even know if I'm supposed to collect you in San Diego or Norfolk when your deployment ends. And I won't know where you're being stationed."

"Fuck," he gasped. "Gorgeous, when I tell you that nobody would have much cared where I ended up before I met you, I mean it." He kissed you as you snuggled tighter against him. "As soon as I find out what's going on, I'll let you know."

"Seriously," you murmured, voice shaky. "You better tell me as soon as possible if it's San Diego or Norfolk in my future."

Bradley didn't know what else to say besides, "I fucking love you." He smiled for the first time in what felt like weeks as he added, "Are you really going to fly out to Norfolk and collect me if they make me stay in Virginia?"

You pulled away from him, eyes puffy with a scandalized look on your face as you said, "Of course. What kind of girlfriend do you think I am?"

The kind he was going to upgrade to his wife.

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

When you finally stopped crying, you were on the verge of a migraine, but you felt a bit calmer. Bradley got up to gather together some Advil, a glass of water, and a small gift wrapped in hideous paper.

"Your early Christmas present," he said, handing it to you after you swallowed two pills for your headache. "Well, it's actually kind of another gift for me, when you really think about it." He dropped down onto the couch again with his arm slung around your shoulders, and unlike him, you tore into the paper. Inside was a leather journal with little hand painted airplanes all over it. "Will you write in it every day so I can read it when I see you again?"

When you opened it to the first page, he had written you a note.

Gorgeous, I miss you with my whole heart. I can't wait to read about all of your adventures when I get home to you. Love, Bradley

"Yes," you whispered, closing it again so you could wrap your arms around his waist. "It'll just be a bunch of pages of me telling you how I argued with Jayden about his sloppy handwriting and how I asked Nia a hundred times to return to her seat. But yes, I'll write in it every day for you."

"I will eat up every page."

After that, he kept you by his side for the rest of the night. Even when you tried to dig around in the refrigerator to see if there was any food left, he was grabbing for you and kissing you. "You have no food," you said with a laugh, turning to face him. "What are we eating for dinner?"

"Hadn't thought that far," he muttered against your lips. "Just want you."

You took his face in your hands and ran your thumb along his scars. "If you don't eat, you'll get cranky. And you've got aircraft carrier food in your future."

Bradley grimaced and muttered, "Cabbage rolls," as he reached for his phone. "Let's get pizza today. And then maybe I'll try to talk the hostess at Salvatore's into letting us get takeout tomorrow. Then Thai on Christmas."

"And then you'll be gone," you whispered, dreading it all over again. "It never gets any easier, does it?"

"You're stuck with me, Gorgeous," he said, voice tinged with the tiniest bit of apprehension.

"I am." You kissed him before you said, "Pizza sounds perfect. Then I can help you pack a little more."

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

The last thing Bradley wanted to do was finish packing his duffle, but every time you looked up at him, eyes full of emotion, he was struck by several things. One, you really were so good at folding up his uniform components, something he noticed a few days ago. Two, every minute or so, you wrapped your arms around him, which made leaving with uncertainty so much harder. And three, you were absolutely nothing like Vanessa. 

Last time when he packed to leave, he was treated to her incessant whining over the fact that he didn't want to take her out to dinner. She was always annoyed with him wanting a quiet night in. She was always annoyed by his job. It was so obvious that she never missed him or loved him the way you did as he watched you carefully fold one of his flight suits before tucking it in his bag. 

"Gorgeous," he murmured, and as soon as your gaze met his, you had your arms wrapped around him again.

"That's enough for the night," you whispered, voice thick with emotion as he kissed the top of your head. Your face was pressed against his chest, and he could hear you trying to keep yourself calm. And god, he hated doing this to both of you. 

"I agree," he replied, keeping you close while he tossed a few novels he'd been meaning to read in as well. He'd have plenty of time to read a whole stack.

You wiped your eyes on his shirt as you said, "Make sure you read at night and stay away from all the women."

Bradley tipped your chin up so you were looking at him again. "Surely you're not worried about that." You shook your head. "Good. But now that we're on the topic... be a good girl and don't talk to horny assholes."

You started laughing as you slipped out of his grasp, wiping at your tears as you said, "Never. Now let me add one more thing to your bag." As you disappeared from the bedroom, Bradley put his bag on the top of his dresser. If he had time, he would move some of his clothing around so you had room for your things when your lease was up. Otherwise you were going to have to fend for yourself in his house and just make decisions for him. If he just had more time with you, everything would be easier. The one promising thing would be returning in time for Valentine's Day and Career Day at your school. If he was allowed to come back to San Diego at all.

"Fuck," he groaned, hating this unsettled feeling that was expanding in his chest, but as soon as you walked back in, he started to feel better. Seven weeks without you was going to be painful when he had such a visceral reaction to your touch and your words.

"Just in case you feel like jotting down your own thoughts every day for me to read," you said before tucking the stationery kit in next to his uniforms. You slid a large envelope that looked like it was bursting at the seams inside as well and simply said, "Some more reading material for you," before pulling him toward the bed.

And that's when Bradley figured out just how to make you feel a little less alone when he was in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

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

When you opened your eyes on Christmas Eve, you were already smiling. Your body was warm and tucked up against Bradley's, his big, heavy arm draped over you as he snored softly. You wanted to stay here and not move a muscle, because right now, everything was perfect. You could pretend like his duffle bag wasn't sitting on his dresser, mostly packed and ready to go. You could melt into the sweet ache deep inside from the hour he spent loving your body last night. You could close your eyes and go back to sleep.

Bradley's phone vibrated on his nightstand, and he groaned next to your ear. "Baby," he murmured, lips grazing your neck. "Don't get up yet."

You couldn't help but smile. "Your phone is vibrating. Not mine."

"Shit," he grunted, rolling away from you. Once he looked at his phone screen he seemed to wake up. "Nat's on her way to pick you up for girls' day."

"What are you talking about?"

You definitely hadn't planned a girls' day. Why would you want to miss out on any time with Bradley right now? You could have a day with Nat next week or next month when he was gone!

He had a little smile on his face as he pulled you close again for a kiss. "You better get dressed."

"Bradley! I'm not going out with Nat. You're leaving in two days!"

Naked and spectacular, he climbed out of bed and stretched. "Just for a bit. She wants to take you to get coffee, and if she tries to get me a Christmas present, I need you to make sure it doesn't suck." 

"You planned this," you said, annoyed as he reached for you, pulling you away from the bed where you could pretend there was no scary uncertainty in your future.

"Just trust me," he whispered, holding you close. "Besides, I need some time to sweet talk someone at Salvatore's into letting me order dinner to-go."

You could handle an hour or two with his best friend while you counted down the time you had left before his flight out of San Diego. "Fine, but I'm wearing your sweatshirt, and I'll be thinking about you the whole time."

Bradley sent you down the walkway with a kiss, and he waved from the front door in just his underwear as you climbed into his best friend's car. "I won't keep you out too long," Natasha promised with a smirk. "I can already tell you want to get back to him."

"Why did he plan this?" you asked, wanting the answers he wouldn't give you while trying not to be rude. "No offense, because I would love to spend an entire girls' day with you, but why today?"

She simply turned up the Christmas songs on the radio and headed toward Starbucks with a smile on her face. "I was thinking after coffee we could hit up the mall for a few minutes? I need to find something truly awful to get for Bradley. I'm thinking some pink running shorts to match mine. High visibility colors are very important when you're out running, and I just don't think he fully appreciates that."

You laughed. "If you buy them, he'll probably just wear them to try to embarrass you."

"I don't embarrass easily," she said smoothly with a devilish grin. "And dare I say you might like to pick out a little something that you could wear as a going away treat?"

"Wear?" you asked before you quite knew what she meant.

"Sure. I mean, I don't want to know any specifics about what the two of you get up to, because gross, but deployments are long and lonely, and you're definitely going to miss each other."

While Bradley had seen all of your cutest underwear at this point, you'd never worn anything that you bought specifically with him in mind. Your cheeks grew warm as you thought about it. Truthfully you didn't even own anything terribly sexy. 

"What would he even like?" you asked softly as she pulled into the Starbucks parking lot.

"On you?" she asked with a laugh. "Anything. Don't worry, we'll find something good."

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

When Natasha texted to inform him that you were on your way back to his house, Bradley quickly hid everything that had been out on his coffee table while he juggled his phone. The woman he was talking to on speakerphone wasn't falling for his lines at all.

"Listen," he told her, making sure there was no visible evidence of what he'd done in his living room. "I just really want tonight to be special for my girlfriend and I before I leave for my next deployment. Just one order of spaghetti and meatballs? That's all I'm asking."

There was a deep sigh followed by, "Be here promptly at 5:00 to pick it up. I'll take your credit card over the phone."

"Perfect," he replied with a smile, digging for his wallet. "The name is Bradley Bradshaw."

You walked in with shopping bags in your arms, and rushed toward him as he finished giving his credit card security code, and he pulled you in for a hug as he reassured the hostess from Salvatore's that he would be there at 5:00.

"Hi," he said, kissing you after he ended the call. "Did you have fun with Nat?

"So much fun," you told him with a smile. "We're going to try out a wine bar next week up in Oceanside." The idea of you hanging out with his friend while he was away made him feel calm, especially since Nat knew how important you were to him. "Also," you said, pressing your lips together nervously, "I think I'd like to sleep here for the rest of my winter break." Your volume dropped to a whisper. "I'm not sure if it will make me miss you more or less, but I want to be here if that's okay with you."

"I love that, Gorgeous," he replied easily. Hanging out with Natasha and then returning to his house where you belonged anyway felt right to him. "Knowing you're sleeping in my bed might result in some dirty notes from me," he said with a laugh as you bit your lip.

"Please," you whispered. "Yes. Write me dirty notes to read when you get back." Just when he was about to kiss you, he watched you bend and rummage around in a bag. "Also, this is your gift from Natasha." You handed him some bright pink fabric that he turned around in his hands, trying to figure out what it was. "And she told me to hold up the gift receipt for you."

When he finally figured out that it was a pair of ladies running shorts, he grimaced. "She's so annoying," he groaned, reaching for the gift receipt, but you quickly chuckled and tore it up. "What are you doing?"

"You're not allowed to return them." You dropped the bits of paper, and he tossed the shorts onto the couch.

"Whose side are you on here?" he asked, peppering your face with kisses. "Don't think for a second I won't just put a jock strap on and run in those shorts."

"I tried to tell her you would," you laughed as he scooped you up. "I kind of want to see it."

"Play your cards right," he murmured, grabbing his keys and taking you out to his Bronco. "Let's pick up dinner."

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

Your belly was full of spaghetti and meatballs when you managed to sneak away to the tiny laundry room and quickly hand wash your new bra and thong set while Bradley loaded the dishwasher. Nat assured you that he would enjoy this tiny thing, and you were trusting her here. You set both items aside to dry before walking back out to the kitchen.

"You don't have a Christmas tree," you remarked, wishing you'd picked one up today from one of the many parking lots trying to unload them at the last minute.

"I told you I don't really celebrate holidays."

"You're doing a great job of celebrating this one."

He washed his hands and tossed the towel aside. It was barely seven o'clock, but he asked, "You feel like calling it an early night?" You agreed, ready to feel his warmth along your entire body as you fell asleep.

You got undressed and climbed in bed, and he did the same. Bradley's hands were everywhere, but his lips were gentle on your neck and shoulder as he whispered your name. "I love you. It's going to kill me inside when I can't talk to my favorite pen pal. Last time, you had my heart pounding every time you sent me a new email."

Tears stung your eyes in the darkness; you'd done a pretty good job of holding it together all day, but this was going to be your undoing. "I promise, every time you think about me, I'll already be thinking about you, too."

Bradley's arm tightened around you, his thumb stroking your skin, soothing you along with his sweet words as you fell asleep.

When you woke up on Christmas Day, his body was still right behind yours where he belonged, but when you rolled over to look at his handsome face, you knew the hours were going to go by too quickly. "Morning, Gorgeous," he murmured, voice raspy from sleep as he cracked his eyes open. "Let's go see what Santa brought."

You didn't have any other gifts for him, unless you counted your new lingerie which you were saving for later after dinner. And the printer you bought so he could have some photos of you without his phone on the aircraft carrier. But when you got out to the living room, there was an envelope on the coffee table.

"What is it?" you asked cautiously as you picked it up. But your heart melted immediately. It was a gift card for the wine bar in Oceanside.

"There's enough on there for you and Nat to take a few trips up if you like the place."

"The two of you have been plotting, I see," you remarked, taking a deep breath before snuggling up against his chest. "But nothing will beat the horribly expensive bottle of wine I accidentally made you buy on our second date."

Deep laughter rumbled through Bradley's chest as he said, "The look on your face just made me love you more." You groaned thinking about it. "Come on, we've only got one day left and then seven weeks of nothing. Let's make French toast and have sex on the couch and eat Thai food and watch movies."

You wore his sweatshirt around all day, licked maple syrup from his lip and rode him until he was whining for you. The Thai noodles went perfectly with Home Alone. Then you took a shower together and deep conditioned his hair, dragging your nails along his scalp until his eyes closed.

"I'm going to miss this," he whispered after every single thing you did. When you toweled his hair dry, he looked at you with so much emotion. "I'm going to call you as soon as I know what's going on with the Pacific versus Atlantic Fleet. And either way, I'll try to be as patient as I possibly can, but I can't live without you, Baby."

"Bradley."

"Shit. Even the way you say my name makes me ache."

"I want you here with me. I already hate this." A sob escaped your lips without warning. "I want you to come back for Career Day."

The words were barely out of your mouth before he said, "I will be here for Career Day no matter what. Disappointing you is bad enough, but I don't want the eighteen kiddos to miss out on spending the day with their favorite Naval officer."

You laughed. "You're not disappointing me, Bradley. This is just hard, because I love you so much."

If you couldn't see a future with him, this would have been easier. He set you down on the bathroom vanity, and you watched him carefully shave around his mustache, kissing you randomly so you had to wipe shaving cream from your nose, and then he started collecting his toiletries for his duffle bag. He was naked and perfect as you stayed huddled in your towel, wondering if you could even manage to pull off wearing the items that were surely dry now and draped over his laundry room sink.

"Where are you going?" he asked as you ducked past him toward the door.

"Meet me in bed."

You rushed down the hallway and threw your towel in the empty washing machine as you took a minute to touch the pretty lace fabric before sliding the thong up your legs. Next you hooked the bra in place, and it didn't matter if you didn't look perfect, because you felt good. And you wanted him to have this memory.

When you cautiously strolled into the bedroom, Bradley was still naked, laying on top of the bedding, looking at a small piece of paper. "I'm just double checking my packing list, and I..." His gaze shifted to your body, and you did a little turn for him. The paper drifted to the floor as he sat up, his hand coming to rest on his cock. "Come here."

Biting your lip, you did as you were told. Bradley's feet swung over the edge of the bed, coming to rest on the floor as his cock bobbed between his thick thighs. "Here I am," you whispered, standing between his knees with your hands on his shoulders. "Your going away gift."

One strong arm wrapped around you, and you squeaked as he pulled you flush against him. He kissed the rounded tops of your breasts above your new bra, one after the other before looking up at you. "What did I do to deserve this?" he rasped, his nose running along the lace as his fingers tangled in your thong.

Already so turned on, you tried to answer him twice before words came out. "I wanted to give you a proper send off. Something extra special." Then he kissed your furled nipples through the flimsy bra cups and you moaned, "Something to think about when you're lonely."

His fingers were digging into your butt as he grunted. His wide brown eyes were fixed on your face as he parted his lips and sucked on your breast, the black lace wet everywhere now. He was being a little rough, but it felt like he was worshipping you at the same time, and when his lip found your neck, he asked, "Is this little getup new?"

"I bought it yesterday," you gasped as his fingers slipped inside your thong, stroking your wet pussy. "Just for you."

Then you were on your back with your head on the pillow, Bradley's heavy cock resting against your thigh as he hovered over you. "Just for me, huh?" he grunted, biceps flexed as he fought to keep his breathing under control.

You nodded, running your toes up along his calf and thigh until your leg was hooked around his hip, ready to give him whatever he wanted. "Of course it's just for you. I'll wear it again when we meet back in the San Diego airport or in Norfolk. And I'll wear it when you're away and I'm touching myself."

"Fuck," he growled, pulling your panties to the side and running his cock through your wetness before pushing himself so deep inside you that it took your breath away. When you whimpered, his lips crashed against yours as his hands dug beneath you to unhook your bra. "Touch yourself right now." When the flimsy lace ended up on the floor while Bradley fucked you, he guided your right hand to his lips, kissing your fingertips before placing them on your breast. "I want to watch."

Bradley's pupils were wide, lips parted. When you looked down your body as his cock disappeared inside you over and over again, you felt even more turned on. When you ran your fingers along your nipple and up between your bouncing breasts, his eyes followed your every move. "Like this?" you asked, feeling bold as you added your left hand as well.

He gave you a harder thrust. "Exactly like that, Gorgeous. And what are you going to think about when you do?"

"My boyfriend," you managed before his mouth met yours in a deep kiss that only lasted a few seconds. "I'm going to think about my boyfriend. I'll miss you so much."

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

Bradley's hips slowed to a gentler pace as he listened to you gasping and panting beneath him. There was no way you'd miss him as much as he'd miss you. He closed his eyes and thought about returning home to your arms in seven weeks and heading back to work in the Pacific Fleet. He hoped you'd appreciate the little surprises he was leaving behind for you. More than anything he wanted you to think about tonight when you got yourself off.

His rough excitement at you in the new lingerie melted into something sweeter as he fucked you with long, languid strokes. Your lips were on his neck and collarbones as he whispered how much he loved you over and over. When you came, it escalated quickly, sudden and loud as he ran his thumb across your clip. He couldn't hold on after that, and he let your body hold him in place with soft squeezes as he caught his breath.

"I have one more thing for you to pack," you whispered, voice ragged as you ran your fingers through his hair.

"I really hope you fit in my duffle," he mused, and you laughed softly.

You kissed his ear and whispered, "I bought a small photo printer since you won't be able to use your phone." He shivered at your words. "You can print out a photo or two of us together... or maybe you want to take a new one right now to print out?"

"Jesus," he grunted, kissing your lips. "You're spoiling me." He reached for his phone on the nightstand and snapped a few pictures of your fucked out face and your body with his cock still buried deep. "I am very spoiled."

When you stood and plugged in the printer with lips puffy from his mustache in just your thong, he couldn't keep his hands off you. He had his photo gallery open on his phone and his arm around your waist as he selected the picture you sent him ages ago with the sun setting behind you. "This one is an absolute necessity. So is this one of us together. I don't think I should take any with me where you're naked, just to be safe," he mused, and you threw your arms around him.

"You'll just have to use your imagination," you told him as the photos printed.

"That'll be easy with this fresh in my mind," he murmured, looking down at your tits pressed to his chest. "I'll be thinking about you nonstop."

Bradley's hold on your body was unrelenting as he dropped the photos into his duffle and led you back to bed. It was getting late, and his flight to Virginia was early. You snuggled up on his chest with a soft smile on your lips. "I hope you do. I hope you think about me constantly and write me notes."

He kissed your forehead. "Not just you... your whole class. Have to keep them interested in aviation. But you're my favorite pen pal."

You laughed and buried your face against his neck, and he could feel your breathing grow a little more ragged as you whispered, "I love you so much. Just be safe. I don't really care if we have to figure out long distance or relocation as long as you're safe, Bradley."

That's how he fell asleep, wrapped up in your arms with your sweet sentiments in his ear. And the next morning, when his alarm went off, he welcomed your tears, because they made him feel like he was important to a woman for the first time in his life. You cried softly as you sat on his lap and went over his packing list with him one more time, and your cheeks were wet as you kissed him.

Bradley let you button up his khaki uniform shirt for him, your fingers shaking as you smoothed down the fabric along his chest. "Thank you, Gorgeous," he whispered, watching helplessly as your face crumbled into more tears.

When he drove the Bronco to the airport, your fingers were linked with his in the silence as the light from the rising sun hit the buildings downtown, promising to bring another perfect day to southern California. His hand tightened around yours, knowing he was going to be flying into so much uncertainty. His voice sounded strangled to his own ears as he parked at the curb under the signage for departing flights. "This is it. I'll text and call you as much as I can when I land before they lock me down, but this is it for seven weeks."

You crawled onto his lap, holding him tight as he kissed you, and now his tears mingled with yours. "I love you, Bradley," you promised, and he believed you as he held you in his arms and climbed down onto the pavement. He pulled his duffle from the backseat and dropped it to the curb as he held you against him, unwilling to leave before he told you a few more things.

"I'll keep myself safe, but you need to do the same. If you need something, you call Natasha right away, okay?" You nodded against him, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades. "My stuff is your stuff, so do whatever you want at the house and with my Bronco. And tell me you love me every day in the journal so I can read about it when I see you."

"I will," you sobbed as he finally set you down. "And I'll be waiting to hear you tell me if it's San Diego or Norfolk."

He swiped your tears away from your cheeks and kissed you one last time before he picked up his bag and headed for the door. When he turned back one last time, you were clutching his car keys and crying. "I love you, Gorgeous."

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

We'll see how they manage apart. I think she might do a bit better than Bradley will. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 20

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[joelscruff]

you know i don't mean it (joel miller x reader) 18+

welcome to my 300 follower celebration! \o/ i polled my followers on which character they'd most like to see in some new smut and joel won (not surprised). this was supposed to be a drabble but ended up getting a bit longer than i anticipated, hope you enjoy! summary: you and joel get off together. that's pretty much it. you also have some unresolved feelings for him and he's being closed off. rating: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: smut, age gap (reader is mid 20s, joel is mid 50s), praise kink (the term 'good girl' is used maybe 432534 times), dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics (but make it soft), mutual masturbation, come-play, come-eating, this is filthy word count: about 2.5k | ao3 link

"This is the last time," he mutters under his breath, belt buckle jangling as he lays down across from you, "We can't keep doin' this."

"Yeah, yeah," your hand is already buried in your panties, index finger lightly rotating against your clit, "That's what you said last week too."

He grunts and you watch as he slips his hand inside his jeans and palms himself, squaring his shoulders and trying to relax. He pretends he's doing this for your benefit, like its you who needs help getting off, as if he's not a middle aged man who hasn't been touched by a woman in years. And it's not like you haven't offered, you've genuinely tried to give yourself to him more than a few times, but it's simply a line he won't cross.

Other lines, however, are much easier to cross. It had started out relatively innocent, something that had happened completely by chance, or at least you both led yourselves to believe it was. You'd both had the same idea one night and had ended up getting off together in the same room, you in the chair beside the fireplace of the abandoned ski lodge you'd both been posted in, him on the couch.

"Are you -" he'd gasped into the darkness when he'd heard the wet sound of your fingers a few feet away, plunging in and out of yourself at a steady rhythm.

"Like you're not," you'd hissed back, "I'm not deaf."

"Thought you were sleepin'," he'd muttered, hand stilling on his cock where seconds ago he'd been stroking like his life depended on it.

"And that makes it less weird?"

He'd groaned, releasing himself and sitting up to squint at you in the darkness, "So what are you gonna do about it?"

You glared at him, not bothering to remove your hand from your underwear as you continued to finger yourself, breathing deeply, "I'm not gonna do anything about it, Joel. I'm gonna keep going. And you can stay here or you can go, doesn't matter to me."

After a few seconds of silence, he'd flopped himself back down on the couch and reached for himself again, fucking into his fist, "No talking," he said through his teeth, "Let's just do it and forget it even happened, deal?"

"Deal," you'd replied, and roughly added a third finger as you watched the dark silhouette of him jacking himself off barely six feet away from you.

One night turned into two, turned into five, and now ten. It wasn't every night, only when you were on patrol together. You'd privately asked Tommy to make sure that Joel was your patrol partner as often as possible, because you felt "safer" with him... you're not sure if he'd really believed you.

You're back in the ski lodge again tonight, both of you situated on the couch in your usual positions, on opposite ends and facing each other. It's ridiculous how quickly it's taken you both to get used to these sessions, the casual feeling of it making it even hotter somehow.

"How many fingers are you using this time?" Joel murmurs, eyeing you where you're touching yourself, unable to fully see what he'd like to.

"Up to you," you breathe, still prodding your clit, "How many do you want me to use?"

"Three," he replies, and you watch as he pulls his cock free from the confines of his jeans, jutting large and solid against his stomach, "Real slow, then real fast."

You nod, lifting your hips up to pull your panties free and expose yourself to him, legs wide.

"Stick to my rhythm," he tells you, watching as you trail your middle finger through your folds, "If I stop, you stop. If I tell you to stop-"

"I stop," you answer for him, throwing him a smug smile, "Same rules as always."

He stares at you without speaking, just waiting. You get the hint and begin to slide your finger inside slowly, making eye contact with him under your lashes and smiling languidly. He fists himself just as slow, looking down at your finger and licking his lips.

"Slow enough for you?" you whisper, adding a second and grinning when his eyes darken, "Should I go a bit faster?"

"Not yet," he whispers, thumbing the head of his cock and fucking into his hand at the same pace as your finger, "Keep it nice and slow for me 'til I say so."

You obey, fucking yourself with your middle and ring finger at the slowest pace you can muster. No matter how annoying his orders are you always do as you're told, not because you're afraid of any sort of consequence, but because you like seeing him enjoy himself, seeing him take control. You've only known him for about six months but you've known for a while that he's been lacking any sort of control in his life for a long time; you're glad to be the one who can give it to him.

"Add your third," he whispers and you oblige, slipping your index inside yourself alongside the others, "Good girl," he breathes, "Such a good girl for me, aren't you?"

You nod, your smugness immediately starting to fade. When he talks to you like this, praises you, it's impossible to keep your hard exterior up for much longer, feeling yourself submit to him. In any other circumstance you love to challenge him, to argue, but in these moments it's the last thing on your mind. You do as you're told, and that's the end of it. He needs control, you need submission.

"Tell me," he whispers.

"I'm your good girl," you breathe, shivering and continuing to shove your fingers in and out at his pace.

He smirks, "Yeah you are."

You continue to fuck yourself at his painfully slow pace, watching him fist his cock at the same speed. He likes to tease you, to build you up until you're begging for it. You thumb your clit and start to whimper, legs trembling.

"Okay, faster now," he tells you, voice low and sultry, "Not too fast, though. Watch me," he tugs at his cock at a bit quicker of a pace, still much too slow for you but you can't do much else but obey him, mirroring him with the thrust of your fingers, "That's it, like that."

After several more thrusts he suddenly stops stroking himself, stilling in his palm. You groan, halting your movements, following the rules.

"How is it that you follow orders so God damn well when you've got your panties around your ankles?" he asks, voice rough, "Yet when we're actually patrollin' you don't listen to a word I say?"

"I'm not your good girl when we're patrolling," you reply with a teasing smile, "But I could be, you know."

He rolls his eyes, "Enough, it's not happening," he nods to your hand, still motionless at your core, "Play with your clit for a second, give me a chance to breathe."

There it is, the line he won't cross. You've already told him that you're willing to give yourself completely over to him, be exactly who he needs, but no matter how many times you try he just won't budge. It's disappointing, truly, because you really do like him. Sure, he's a bit of an ass, plus he's about thirty years older than you, but you've seen the side of him he doesn't show to others. Maybe only hints, but you've seen it. And you care about him.

"I don't do this with anyone else, you know," you whisper, pressing your index finger against your clit and rubbing small circles into it, "You're the only one I'd let treat me the way you do."

He looks at you curiously, raising an eyebrow, "I treat you good, don't I?"

You nod, whimpering a bit as you rub yourself harder, "You do, but you're the only one I'd ever submit to like this, you know that, right?"

He hums, brushes the wide head of his cock with the tip of his thumb, "I know, baby. But it feels so good, doesn't it? You like being my good girl, don't you?"

You bite down on your lip, core aching as your fingers lay still against your folds, save for the index that continues to furiously stimulate your clit, "I do," you whisper, cheeks warming, "I fucking love it."

"There you go," he murmurs softly, then begins to move his fist again, "Use your fingers again, baby, get your pussy all full for me."

You don't need telling twice, your three fingers plunging deep inside yourself without any hesitation. You whimper when your fingertips brush against your favorite spot, so close yet so far. You eye Joel's cock and try to imagine what it would feel like for it to really be inside you, the fat tip of it pounding relentlessly against the deepest parts of your cunt, his girth stretching you out so much your whole body would be shaking. You feel your mouth drop open involuntarily, brow furrowing.

He follows your gaze and frowns at you, pumping himself a bit faster, "You can't have it," he whispers, like he can read your mind, "I know you want it, pretty girl, but you can't. I'm sorry."

"Why?" you mewl, sounding absolutely pathetic as you keep fucking yourself, "I want it so bad, Joel."

"I know you do," he closes his eyes and leans his head back, "Don't ask me why, you just can't."

You'd pout, tease him a little, but he's not looking at you anymore and it physically makes you ache, the way he avoids any allusion to actual sex, an actual relationship. You've asked him so many times and it's always the same answer, never a real reason. You wish you knew why, wish you knew if there was anything at all you could do to make him open up to you.

Instead you mirror his position, tilting your head back against the arm of the sofa and fucking up into yourself, listening to his labored breathing and the slap of skin whenever his fist hits his belly.

"Fast as you can now, baby," he mutters gruffly, close to the edge, "Need you to come for me, need you to be good."

"I'm always good for you, aren't I?" you whimper, opening your eyes to peer at him again, "I always listen, I never break your rules."

"That's right."

"So why can't you fuck me?" you sit up suddenly, yanking your fingers out of yourself and looking at him angrily. He sits up just as quickly, eyes narrowing as he releases his cock and stares at you, "I'm serious, Joel. I want an actual answer."

"You just broke a rule," he mutters and you sigh exasperatedly.

"I'm sorry for breaking the rules," you genuinely mean it; you know how important this control is for him, but you can't help it, "I'll submit again if you just tell me why you won't fuck me. Do you...do you not want me? Is that it? 'Cause I can accept that, I just want to hear you say it. I'm sick of not knowing."

He stares at you incredulously, hand coming up to squeeze the space between his brow and nose, "Jesus, of course I want you, but it's not that simple."

"Yes it-"

"It's not," he interrupts you, shaking his head, "I can't...this isn't..." he exhales deeply, "This isn't the time for this conversation, okay?" You hear raw emotion in his voice, buried deep but still present. Fuck, you didn't mean to make him feel bad.

"...Okay," you finally whisper, "I'm sorry."

"S'okay," he runs a hand through his hair, "Look, we can stop-"

"No," you lean back and open your legs wide again, putting yourself on display for him, "No, I wanna be your good girl again, please let me."

"We don't-"

"Joel," you whimper, slipping your fingers back inside, "Let me be your good girl."

His hard expression fades, eyes softening as he peers at you, watching you fuck himself for him.

"It's all yours, even if you won't touch me," you whisper, using your other hand to pull yourself open for him, showing him how full you are, feeling your orgasm start to build in your tummy, "It's yours," you repeat, whimpering.

He nods, stroking himself again hard and fast, brow furrowing in pleasure as he keeps his eyes trained on you, "That's right," he murmurs, "It's mine. You're mine."

You close your eyes tight, "I'm gonna come."

"Go ahead, pretty girl," you hear him groan, the snap of his wrist making you completely come undone, "Squeeze around those fingers, pretend they're mine, okay? You can do that, you can pretend."

You shudder at his words and feel your orgasm overtake you, the image of Joel's thick fingers pounding into you enough to send you over the edge. You moan loudly, crying out his name and tossing your head back as you come.

"Good girl," he groans, voice strangled, "Such a good fucking girl for me."

You close your eyes as you ride out the waves of your release, fingers still pumping gently inside of you until it's too much and you pull them out. Sighing contentedly, you open your eyes again and watch Joel relentlessly fuck into his fist, belt buckle still jangling against the couch as he gasps. You want nothing more than to reach forward and take him in your own hand, help him ride out his own release, but you don't. Because those are the rules.

Instead you just watch him, smile at him as he shuts his eyes tight and groans deeply, coming into his fist. You watch the thick white liquid cover the sides of his fingers and you involuntarily salivate, jaw going slack.

"Fuck," you breathe, "Wish I could taste you."

He groans again, hand stilling as he breathes heavily and starts to come down, eyes closed. You sit quietly, panties still hanging off one of your ankles. You'd usually already be putting your clothes back on at this point, but something tells you to stay still, don't move, he's gonna do something different.

He swallows and looks up at you, stares at you for a few moments. You're unsure whether the regular Joel is about to come back, tell you it's time to go back on patrol, grab your gun and be quiet. Or is this still your Joel, the one who tells you you're pretty and good, makes you feel less alone in this shitty world.

"Here," he says, shaking his head and bringing his come-coated fingers up to your mouth, "If you wanna taste, you have five seconds."

Your mouth pops open in surprise, hesitating only for a second before you lean forward and wrap your lips around his fingers, feeling the salty taste of him flood your mouth. Your cunt begins to throb again, your eyes closing as you suck and lick and take everything he's giving you. When you open your eyes again he's still looking at you, but his expression is soft, tender.

"Good girl," he murmurs.

this is now a series, and other parts can be found on my masterlist.