#bundles of hair for cheap

[jinxbabys]

cw: sub-bottom vi. fem-top reader. mild age gap (vi is older than you). strap-on referred to as cock.

synopsis: you can’t stay away from your best friend’s older sister.

you tell yourself that it’s just a fleeting crush, one that will fade with time, but it never does—not when vi tousles your hair in passing, when she drapes one of her strong arms around your shoulders, when she teases you in that low, knowing voice that makes heat coil in your belly. each gesture is small, yet tectonic. each moment a slow erosion of your resolve.

then, the line you swore you’d never cross fades into obscurity, because vi is lying beneath you in her childhood bed, keening every time your strap-on stabs into her cervix. she’s whining high in her throat, pussy squelching wetly, and the pink hair on her mound is damp from her own juices.

god, her cunt smells ripe, it’s glistening with arousal—she’s your very own forbidden fruit.

”baby,” vi breathes, wrecked, reverent. “fuuuck, fuck—please!”

she’s so cute, so sweet for you. you feel the sudden urge to trail soft kisses down her neck; a stark contrast to the way you’re fucking her like a whore.

of course, guilt lingers in the back of your mind, takes a shadowy shape in the corner of the room, but you can’t bring yourself to care right now. powder will be pissed when she finds out—rightfully so—but how can she expect you to stay away from her sister when vi spreads her legs so eagerly for you? when her little hole is so needy for your cock? this was inevitable, like a bruise rising beneath skin.

“hnnghh! ohhh, shit—haaah!” she pants as you rock your hips.

vi’s bedroom is a capsule of the past—neglected ever since she moved out. dusty corners, sun-faded posters, decade-old sheets that cling uncomfortably to damp skin. although, you hardly notice it; all you can focus on is vi—her rosy cheeks, her blown pupils, her trembling muscles. violet, violet, violet.

surely this must be a dream, because there’s no way you’re actually fucking your best friend’s big, bad older sister—turning her into a mewling kitten on your cock. but it’s real; you can feel it when her calloused fingers bite into your skin like anchors, trying to keep herself tethered, as if she needs comfort with the way you’re bullying her pussy.

winding your hips back, you groan at the way vi’s pussy is clinging onto your strap. it’s rather adorable that she has such a desperate little cunt. who would’ve guessed that vi, all sharp edges and snarled confidence, would melt into such a docile sweetheart when she has her hole filled? when the right button is pressed against deep inside her gummy walls?  

her cheap, rickety twin-bed slams against the wall with each thrust, loud and jarring like the bang of a gunshot. “unghh! not so rough, fuck—“ vi gasps.

jeez, vi is ridiculous, acting as if you don’t know exactly what she needs. you have her memorized. if anything, she needs it rougher; you’re being far too tender. still, it’s cute and mildly humorous when vi acts like her pussy isn’t desperate for you, like you don’t know how to fuck her correctly, as if you don’t know her body better than she does. it’s evident that you’re the only one able to fill her cunt just right—scratching the itch that she, herself, can’t even reach.

“shhh,” you whisper placably, palm clasping over her mouth. “you don’t want your sister to hear us, right?”

she stiffens beneath you, almost imperceptibly, as though some buried instinct is still trying to protest. her eyes flash with something fractured—shame, arousal, both—and her nose crinkles beneath your palm.

“don’t—unghh, fuck—don’t talk about her,” vi says, muffled and raspy. then she keens when the pad of your thumbs finds her clit, pressing down with perfect, punishing precision.

snickering, you rub her bundle of nerves quicker—clever and cruel.

“relax, vi. just feel me. you’re doing so good,” you coo, low and coaxing. vi whimpers like a stray dog—big, blue puppy eyes and all.

still, despite how wrong this all is, a dark thrill coils in your chest as you watch vi’s internal struggle—how she tries so hard to resist your temptations, clings to the idea of being a good big sister—but vi’s body always betrays her in the end, and her pussy abruptly paints your abdomen in her saccharine squirt.

taglist: @2ftall @jinxedbambi @mxchi-mxxn @maddiluvsu @just4jinx @rhian88

[neeeooon]

when you’re on your period ;

blue lock x afab!reader

isagi yoichi

-> #panicking

-> that one boy in class who skipped the period video cause the word “blood” made him pass out, so now he knows next to nothing about periods

-> lived a peaceful life of fake-it-til-you-make-it until he started dating you

-> “hey, isagi? do you mind picking some pads up on your way back from practice?” “… like make-up pads?” “uh, period pads?” “period pads?” “… for blood?” “bl—“ and he sees stars

-> you have to sit him down and give him “the talk”

itoshi sae

-> feigns disinterest but is a total secret sweetheart

-> he’d drag his feet a bit when you ask him to grab ice cream for you, but will buy four pints of every flavor you ever mentioned liking

-> when sae returns with bags of ice cream, you cry

-> he freaks out a little, though he knew it was likely due to your hormones. “did i get the wrong kind..?” “YOURE SO CUTE I CANNOT STAND YOU.” “should i leave—“ “PLS HUG ME RN.”

itoshi rin

-> like isagi, he is clueless

-> you don’t have to have “the talk” but you do tell him that he’s going to be annoying to you no matter what he does for the next few days

-> he’s lowk offended but tries not to take it to heart. even when he grabbed a little too much of the blanket you were sharing and fell off the couch when you snatched it back

-> rin doesn’t fear many things. he has issues, yes, but none that count as a “fear”. he quickly realized he is very afraid of you on your period

-> he’d be hiding in the bedroom when you throw the door open and tackle him. “honey! let’s watch grey’s anatomy reruns!” “NOOOOO” as you drag him to the couch

bachira meguru

-> he grew up with a single mother. he knows what to do

-> knows before your period starts that it’s coming and stocks up on supplies: products, teas, snacks, towels, etc.

-> you get super depressed on your period, so bachira acts as a ray of sunshine, bringing light everywhere he goes. it doesn’t always make you feel 100%, but you never have the heart to turn him away

-> bundles you in blankets like a cocoon and wraps his arms around your middle. “does it hurt?” “mm, not as much anymore <3”

kunigami rensuke

-> kunigami knows it’s just a part of life, and though periods really freak him out, he’s never let you know that

-> “hey, babe? can you please grab a tampon from my bag? the second pocket!” “tampon… tampon…” he finds your emergency stash and just hand everything to you since you had a few separate brands and he can’t tell which is better

-> you find his cute cluelessness endearing and thank him with a cheek kiss before going to clean yourself up

-> he does lots of research after that and will gladly let you drag him around the house to help you with things or listen while you rant/cry/beg for snuggles

chigiri hyoma

-> he has experience helping his big sister out when they were younger (not by choice) so this stuff doesn’t sway him

-> chigiri has such a chill presence that you don’t find him annoying, which surprises you because you tend to hate everyone on your period

-> though he hates it, he’ll entertain you and your antics. “i’m dying.” “you’re not dying.” “i’m dying and the only way i’ll survive is with a kiss. and an extra large cheese pizza. and a churro.” “*sighs*”

-> he’ll help you with your skin care when you’re too tired and play with your hair when you ask

yukimiya kenyu

-> omg such a gentleman

-> somehow he knows more about your period than you do?? when you tell him your side hurts, he rubs a spot you didn’t even point at, and all your pain vanishes

-> “are you a wizard?” “what was that, sweetheart?” “you’re a magical period vanquishing wizard, aren’t you?” “uh, sure!”

-> would love to take you to dinner to relax but knows you wouldn’t be caught dead out of the house, so he cooks for you instead

karasu tabito

-> you aren’t entirely sure why, but he is great when it comes to that time of the month

-> he claims he’s an “empath” and at first you thought it was a cheap flirting tactic, but your mind changed when he was able to pick up on your moods without even looking at you

-> somehow never gets on your nerves. it’s like he knows exactly where the line is and knows to stay very far away from it

-> karasu absolutely spoils you during this particular time of the month. let’s you pick everything without complaint, even when you’d usually decide on where to eat or what to watch together

-> “how much longer do you think we can live on sushi and chocolate cake before we die?” “how many days are left in your period?” “about two.” “then about two.”

otoya eita

-> bro cannot be serious

-> hops on twitter and starts spamming how awful period cramps are, how the world would be a better place if the menstrual cycle didn’t exist, etc.

-> everything he does ticks you off, and he knows it. he finds it very attractive when he gets under your skin, even when you threaten to behead him

-> “i might shave my head bald.” “fine !” “and then paint my head pink.” “go for it !” “and tattoo ‘i <3 y/n on my face.” “NO.”

[innerfare]

Shanks Relationship Headcanons 

Summary: A random collection of Shanks relationship headcanons

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

Shanks can’t stand you at first. You get under his skin without even trying. Worse still, you don’t take his bait- you don’t bicker with him, you don’t argue, but you also don’t laugh at his jokes, and it drives him absolutely insane. He’s never met anyone he couldn’t drag down to his level and he doesn’t know what to do about that. 

You also rebuff his advances initially, and he panics because nobody rebuffs his advances. He could bed Akainu if he wanted to, he’s certain of it, so why can’t he bed you? He becomes consumed by his desire to have you, not just in his bed but in his company more generally, eating at his table and sharing a drink and some gossip with him. 

He never shuts up about you, constantly complaining to Beckman, who realizes what is going on almost immediately. Beckman doesn’t bother trying to illuminate Shanks as to the annoying predicament that is love, just laughs to himself.  

Starts writing down and rehearsing his absolute best material before he sees you. When you don’t laugh, he becomes convinced you’re withholding your laughter just to be mean to him. He almost blows a gasket when Lucky Roux tells him, “you know, Captain, maybe your sense of humor just isn’t for everyone.” 

This eventually culminates in him blowing up and kissing you one night. To his utter surprise, you kiss him back. From that point forward, the two of you are going steady, which is uncharted territory for Shanks. 

When he does finally identify your sense of humor, it’s one of his proudest moments. He’s merciless from that point forward, drawing as many laughs from your lips as possible. He'll even resort to tickling you just to hear that musical sound.

To his surprise, you relationship quickly becomes his temple. You’re the person he’s actually serious with, the person with whom he shares his fears and ambitions, with whom he is raw and vulnerable. When he has nightmares, you’ll be the one to comfort him, and when he has doubts, you’ll be the one to reassure him. 

There’s much more to him than meets the eye. He isn’t just a drunken layabout or a prankster, but a complex man with great ambition, and the foundation of your relationship is your ability to unravel these complexities. 

That being said, if he does eventually make you a little less mature, a little more petty, a little more childish, he’ll view it as one of his greatest victories. 

So dramatic. Tells you things like, “I would cease to exist if we were parted,” and, “you fill in the cracks in my soul,” and he means them 100%. Naturally you don’t realize he means them 100% until you find yourself in a life-threatening situation and he drops literally everything to rescue you, apologizing profusely for allowing a hair on your head to be harmed. It’s in that moment you realize the gravity of receiving the affection of an Emperor. 

Brings you flowers, usually a bundle of cheap supermarket flowers with a lot of different colors (he can't actually identify any of the flowers but thought they were pretty). He’s the sort to throw rocks at your window and serenade you with a guitar (he’ll sing but he’s bad at it), but only after you’re in a relationship so it makes you laugh more than it makes you swoon. 

Will order Beckman to reroute the crew’s course so far out of their way it’s comical because he wants you to try a restaurant on an island he visited a decade ago because they served your favorite food in a unique and delicious way; naturally when you get there the restaurant has closed. Shanks makes it up to you with a bowl of ramen, though. 

Got you a massive stuffed strawberry from a carnival (he lost the game but stole the prize anyway when the carnie wasn’t looking, delinquent ass boyfriend), gets very upset if he walks into your room and it’s not on your bed. Now likes to call you strawberry. Other nicknames include red panda or just panda and even my sake cup. Also refers to you in conversation as the crown jewels. 

Tipsy walks down the beach at night, your fingers intertwined, that end with him chasing you through the shallows, catching you in his arms, and spinning you around. He loves a good came of chase, or even hide and seek. Also, strip poker. 

Would never admit it, but he’s often the little spoon. He’ll collapse on top of you after a night of drinking with the boys. Also, he can’t fall asleep without a fistful of something, and since the two of you became an item, that something is usually your hair or shirt (at least to keep it SFW 😉). 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[toxicanonymity]

This is a bit weird but hear me out. Truck driver Joel. Having to sleep in cheap motels and inside his truck. Picks up sweet, pretty hitchhiker reader, who ends up travelling the country with him and fucking in his truck, those cheap old motels, and in the middle of nowhere.

Giving joel handjobs and blowjobs while driving and joel fingering her while driving...

🫠🫠🫠

Trucker Joel. . . I love it. Sexy and fun.

A/N: Feel free to add HCs or write him. @tashibum sent the middle pic one time and I love the vibe. 💛

Fics - tag me if you write one and I'll add here

Overloaded by @katiexpunk

HCs

On the first day, you're riding in silence, and he keeps looking over, checking you out. To make conversation, you ask him about his load. His neck gets pink, and he clears his throat. "my, uh--" before telling you what's in the trailer.

You get a kick out of him being flustered so later you ask him what he's gonna do with his load. When he's flustered, he adjusts his net hat (his curls stick out under it).

He's proud of his truck. It's humble but he takes good care of it. He's made the cab cozy, but you can tell he did it himself, there isn't much of an eye for design. There's definitely only one bed.

You're fixing the fitted sheet on the bed in his cab and there's a bottle of lube under the corner of the mattress.

He has a TV screen set up near the bed and offers you can stream something but it accidentally opens to porn.

The first time you stop at a motel, he takes a shower, slicks back his hair, and puts on a nice t shirt and belt, and even foregoes the hat. He takes you to eat at a diner.

He doesn't like belts though. Before the motel room door is even shut behind you, he takes his belt off with one hand in one swift motion. He does a double take at your face and can't help but smile to himself at the effect it has on you.

When you're sucking him off and he's about to cum too early, he's like "whoa, back it up now, darlin'."

Maybe he calls you bambi cause he almost hit you like a deer before picking you up.

You might have to cockwarm him in the driver's seat sometime.

He gives you back-to-back cream pies, admires the mess, and says "damn near got you bundled out" (loaded to max capacity).

feel free to add or write

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley, Reader

Summary: The birth of his first child changes everything for the rough around the edges military man. A small glimpse into his life now as a father.

Word Count: 3 k

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of being pregnant, just sweetness.

Heavy eyes blinking, trying to adjust to the darkness flooding the room, Simon drifted back into consciousness. Intaking a full, deep breath, he filled lungs with the calm air around the bedroom as he came back into his body from out of sleep. Turning his head towards the nightstand besides the bed, sight searching he finally found his target. Bright red numbers glared back at him from the cheap alarm clock sitting on the top as they cut through the night to tell him the time: it was still the middle of the night.

He was no stranger to insomnia and had made peace with it long ago. It was just a part of his routine now, though these days it seemed to benefit him more than hinder as his life was changing. Another deep breath he inhaled as he rubbed his bare chest with his hand, itching a place between his pectorals; he was completely awake now. 

Turning back over, a muted smile spread across his lips as he caught your form laying next to him in the bed under the covers. Your body was faced towards him, head buried in your pillow with the covers pulled up to your chest, your hair laying haphazardly around your face like a veil. Gentle eyes watched your shoulders move ever so slightly up and down with the slow, steady pattern of your breathing. He always looked on you as if you were the only reason he knew what love was.

Because you were.

A rushing swell of emotion filled his heart as he looked upon the best fucking thing that ever had happened to him resting so peacefully. It made the hardened military man happy to know that he could create an environment where you felt safe enough to sleep so deeply, not a worry on your mind because you knew he would be there if anything happened. With careful fingers, Simon reached across the minuscule distance to tenderly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and out of your eyes.

You did not even stir as he grazed those rough fingertips across your delicate cheek; the past couple of weeks had been a whirlwind of excitement and chaos and even though he knew you wouldn’t change a second of it, it still left you exhausted. Even more careful, he leaned his face in and gave your temple a quick peck, letting his lips linger against your silky skin a moment to breath in your scent before rolling back over to get out of bed. 

Each step was strategic to be certain that you didn’t wake; you needed to rest and he wasn’t about to disrupt that. He had just made it out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind him when he heard a rustling and the beginnings of a small cry coming from the other room. Quickly and silently he moved through the hall of your mid-sized flat, over to the other bedroom where the door stood slightly ajar.

“Shhh… hey now,” Simon whispered quiet words of comfort as he moved into the room and towards the crib that was situated against the far wall where a tiny bundle that lay inside was just stirring from sleep. Again his heartstrings were plucked as he peered over the railing to what lay inside, his gaze falling upon a little girl- his little girl.

Scooping the infant up into his protective arms, his skin still nice and warm from sleep, he brought her up and cradled her snugly against his bare chest. “Let’s let your mum sleep, yeah?” he smiled down at his daughter. “You’ve taken a lot out of her the past several days, luv, but don’t worry, dad’s gotcha.”

Soon it’d be time to feed the little one and Simon would have to bring her to you, but right now all he wanted was to sit with the only other being in his life that had a permanent place in his heart. Grabbing her a blanket, they both moved over towards the rocking chair where he gingerly took a seat while making sure he had her secure in his embrace. There he sat, the tiny babe curled up on his bare chest under her blanket as he rocked them both back and forth.

One large hand on her back while the other cradled under her bottom for support, Simon delicately stroked his sweet girl’s back to sooth her sad whimpers. Slow, even caresses helped her to relax in his arms and a low hum that vibrated through his chest from some tune soothed her the rest of the way down. It wasn’t long before the motion of the chair and his tender touch lulled her back into a calm and he leaned down to place a kiss to the top of that small head as she let out a quiet coo like a dove. 

“See? I told ya; dad has ya, princess,” he murmured against the few strands of hair that covered her head. 

His touch was so gentle with her, so painstakingly careful as if he were afraid that one wrong move and he would break her. Those hands had touched so much death, dealt so much too, and he worried that he could never hold something so precious within their grasp without destroying it or tainting it in some way. And each touch of his hand had to be with a heart full of love for the little girl; that was the only way.

Anxious thoughts secretly kept him up at night for months before she was born, worries that somehow he would turn out to be just like his father, that he would somehow look at this tiny thing and transform into a monster. But the minute he heard that cry as she took her first breath in this world, all those fears seemed to evaporate into thin air; he was completely smitten with her and knew he would do anything to protect her. She would want for nothing, not as long as he was around.

Moving the baby off his chest and into his hands, he cradled her so that he could look into her face. So much of himself he saw in her tiny features it nearly brought him to tears: she had his nose, a halo of wispy blonde hair, his amber eyes. As he looked down at his little girl, so small and fragile, his could feel his heart nearly burst at the seams with all the love her had for her; his heart was so full of her that he could hardly call it his own anymore. It was like someone had taken the best parts of him and the best parts of you and made a perfect doll that he would get to cherish for her whole life.

How could something as pure as this come from a part of him? It was like magic, that somehow out of all the chaos and loss and struggle he had endured over his entire life she came, like a being made out of starlight that would always help him find his way out of the darkness. She was his miracle that came without warning, that he never knew he needed until he had her.

“I can’t believe you’re mine, princess,” he whispered lovingly to her calm, sleeping face as she snuggled into his hands. “Even when your mum told me she was pregnant with ya, I couldn’ believe I played a part in making something so damn wonderful. I mean, me with a kid? It seemed such a crazy thing. No one would have believed it, especially me, but now that you’re here I wouldn’t change a damn thing. Ya deserve everythin’ in this world, luv, and I promise I will work my whole life to give it to ya.”

Wherever life took him, whatever he had to do, there would be nothing that would stop him from giving everything he had to this little slice of heaven he created here with you. This was the only thing he could ever want now and it all started when a girl with a smile that could rival the sun took a chance on a man that felt like he had died long ago. You brought him back from the brink and now he had an abundance of reasons to keep on living. 

In the middle of his chaos were you and his child and that was enough.

Picking up his daughter, her little legs scrunching up against her tummy, he brought her face to his lips and kissed her chubby cheeks before he rested her back over his heart. “I love ya, my little princess,” he said, “and I always will.”

***Over a year later***

A little chubby-cheeked girl sat on the floor of the living room playing with her toys, her wispy blonde hair tied up into mini pigtails on top of her head. It was getting late, but she couldn’t go to bed just yet…there was one more thing that waited for her to end the day. Joyfully she babbled away to herself in her own little world as she went about stacking and destroying a set of blocks until the sound of the front door opening caught her attention.

Immediately those autumn-colored eyes shot straight up as her sparcely-toothed smile lit up her entire face and spread from ear to ear for the person who had just walked in came into her view. 

“Dada, dada,” she babbled excitedly as she struggled to her roly-poly short legs to toddle towards the sound. Her tiny arms reached up towards the figure, hands clasping together open and close repeatedly as a nonverbal request for the tall, hulking man currently setting down his things before crossing the floor to come and pick her up.

“ ‘ello sweetpea,” Simon’s gruff voice greeted her while a smile to match her own hit his lips the moment he caught sight of her. Quickly he bent down and scooped the child up into his arms, holding her in his full embrace. Instantly she wrapped her own short limbs around his neck and held him with all her tiny might as if transferring all her love into him.

“Tiss, dada, tiss,” she bounced up and down in his embrace and he was more than ready to oblige, kissing those rosy, flushed cheeks over and over to make her squeal excitedly with laughter. That didn’t take much since her favorite person in the entire world was home and that made her so giddy she couldn’t stand still.  

“How’s my princess today, hmmm? Did ya run mum ragged?”

Oh boy did she have a lot to tell her father about the goings on of her day, rambling on in her limited vocabulary as Simon listened attentively, nodding along as she spoke animatedly about how she saw a dah-ug (dog) today when she went with you in the tawr (car) to the staur (store); from the moment she said her first word, which could have been nothing else than ‘dada’, she had to share her entire day with him and he was more than thrilled to hear it all every single time. 

God, the way that little girl looked at him like he set the stars made all the stressors of even the most miserable day instantly melt away. He was her whole world in more ways than one. Who knew something so small and fragile could have the most significant impact on his life? Who could have ever know that when she came that he would get such a wonderful gift to cherish?

As she finished up her tirade, his eyeline was drawn over to you as you slowly and carefully moved up off your place on the floor and onto your feet to come stand beside him and your daughter. One of those big, strong arms meant for you latched around your waist and pulled you towards him where his lips were waiting to place a kiss to your own; both of his girls safe in his protective grasp. 

This, this was home.

“Was she good today?” he asked as your mouths parted. 

There was mischief in your eyes, your mouth tightening to not give you away by spreading into a smile. “Oh she was an absolutely…terror,” you picked, laughing as you watched that pronounced scowl furrow his brow and instantly cloud his features as his eyes narrowed. No one was to talk bad about his little girl and how dare you even try to suggest that she was anything other than perfect. 

Turning back to his daughter, he situated her better upon his hip. “Mums lyin’ on ya, ain’t she?” he asked, ignoring your smirk and eye roll as he gave her another slew of kisses across her face that sent her squealing again. “I know my sweet Anna would neva be anythin’ other than a perfect princess.”

“Pincess,” Anna repeated through her giggles as she patted her chest. “Dada pincess.”

A phrase she heard so often from him throughout her short year and some change on this earth that she already recited it perfectly and Simon’s heart nearly burst at the seams every time she uttered it because she was and would always be his sweet princess, the one who came to save him, the one he would move heaven and hell for without a single qualm. 

“That’s right, ya are dad’s princess,” he smiled as he had to swallow back the lump of emotion in his throat. 

The way she could always immediately and consistently break down those walls that he had kept up for so many years was a thing of magic. There was no possible way for her to know the amount of struggling it took for him to become this gentle after all he had endured, how he had to burn himself nearly whole and rise anew from the ashes, but by God he would do it all again just for her and for you. 

Silently you watched the two of them interact, the love pouring out of Simon like a fountain, and your breath hitched as you realized how lucky you all were. He held on to that little girl the same as he always had: as if she were the most sacred thing in the whole entire world and to him in his world she was just that. Breaking you out of your thoughts, he pulled you back in for another quick kiss; there were things to get done as it was already getting late. 

“You ready for a bath?” he asked Anna and she happily nodded back.

“Baff, baff,” she repeated. 

She was probably the only kid in the world that looked forward to bath time and bed because that was the time she got to spend with the person she was always missing the most. There was only a few more days till the weekend when Simon could spend more time with her, but for now these little moments were just enough to get them both through.

The sounds of splashing and laughter wafted from the bathroom as you took a tired seat on the sofa: Simon’s low gravely, subdued chuckling being accentuated with Anna’s light, higher pitched squeals of glee. There was no better sound in the whole world than the two of them together and you prayed that no matter how old you got or how your memories faded, that the music of them would remain something locked up tight that you would always be able to recall.  

“ ‘ere she comes,” Simon called out to you as a naked baby wrapped in just a towel toddled her way over to you and jumped into your arms to tell you ‘noo nie mum’ (goodnight mum) before that burly man came after her, scooping her up and whisking her away to get dressed so that she could start to get sleepy.

Picking out a pair of pink footie pajamas with little flowers on them, he grabbed her blanket and a picture book off the shelf, making sure the lights were low before making his way with Anna in his arms to the rocking chair in the corner of her room. 

Back and forth, back and forth, he slowly moved them as he read aloud about a very very hungry caterpillar, letting her chubby fingers glide over the pages as he laid out the story just as he had done countless nights before until her little head began to bob and her eyes flutter. 

Setting the book down he held her against his chest, letting the rhythmic beating of his heart along with the rocking of their bodies in the chair to lull her into deep sleep. It seemed like only yesterday she was able to hold her in just his hands and now she was big enough to lay across almost the entirety of his chest. 

"You're growin' up so fast princess," he whispered so softly it was barely audible. "I wish I could just stop time for a bit."

It stung his heart how sad it was that time seemed to be slipping through his fingers like sand through a sieve, but in the same breath he had to remark on how wonderful and breathtaking it was to see all the best of him and you reflected in the amazing little girl she was growing in to. 

As he laid her down into her bed, he gently moved the fine strands of hair off her warm forehead to place a delicate kiss to her temple. “Sweet dreams, my sweet princess,” he whispered against her skin as her chest rose and fell at a slow pace while she drifted off into dreamland. “Remember, dad’s always here to keep ya safe.”

With quiet, easy steps he walked out of her bedroom and closed the door, another day that made it all worth waking up for. Sauntering back into the living room after having changed his clothes, he took his place beside you on the couch, pulling you into his arms and against his chest; he could always shower later, time spent with you both was far more important than all that.  

“I think I’m gettin’ the hang of this,” Simon smiled against your lips, letting them linger over the soft flesh a moment more. “We did pretty fuckin’ good with our little girl, didn’t we luv?” 

 You turned your head and held his soft gaze. "We sure did," you agreed. 

Taking his hand and placing it to the back of your head, he brought your face to his to rest your forehead against one another. "It was all because of ya that I have all this fuckin' happiness," he said with eyes closed as he breathed you in. "Ya both gave me a life I never thought I deserved."

"You deserve it all, Simon. Every once of it."

Leaning in the miniscule distance between your mouths, you met his lips with your own and he embraced them back as if to say 'thank you'. 

“Think we can do it again?” you asked, breaking the kiss gently.

Simon lowered his gaze and moved his hand to your abdomen, cupping over the small swell of your belly and giving it a loving rub. You had just barely started to show as this second little surprise still had some time in the making, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t excited to see what this next chapter would bring. Was it a little sooner than expected? Sure, but Simon knew now that there was nothing the two of you couldn’t face together or that he would do for the ones he loved. 

“Aye, I think we’ll manage just fine, luv.”

[bullet-prooflove]

Pears: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @wabi-sabi1090 @lostinwonderland314 @turtle-cant-communicate @fallout-girl219

Prequel to:

Bubble

Crazy, Stupid, Fucked Up World (NSFW)

Ironically the hellhole that’s stealing Carmen’s fucking soul is the place he falls in love with you. He’s been trying to source cheap organic produce for The Beef ever since he came back to Chicago and he’d found this eco-friendly little urban farm not too far away from the restaurant that’s willing to sell him their seasonal overflow for  next to nothing. It’s a win win because you deplore wastage and he needs the discount.

When you arrive at the back door with his order he has no fucking clue why you’re here because it’s late Christmas Eve and everyone else in the world is sending time with their families. Instead you’re standing in front of him, bundled up in a navy blue hat with a pompom with a matching scarf over your white quilted jacket.

“Christ, get in here.” He says tugging you inside because it’s minus who the fuck knows outside and he’s terrified you’ll freeze to death. “Why the fuck are you out in this? You should be tucked up somewhere warm with your family.”

“Because you asked me to asshole.” You reply, tugging off your hat so that your hair falls loose across your rosy features. “You called me up at stupid o'clock because you wanted pears for some seasonal shit you were trying out.”

“Shit.” He says, taking the box from you, because honestly he thought he dreamt that but now he realises he had another dissociative episode. They’ve starting to happen more and more recently since Mikey’s death. He wakes up and he finds himself doing weird shit, cooking plastic, re-organising the tins in his cupboard so they all face backwards, sorting his recycling into colours.

“Now we’ve ascertained why I’m here.” You say, stripping the gloves from your hands and tucking them into the pockets of your coat. “What are you doing here?”

“Christmas isn’t…” He hesitates because he’s thrown back into that last event, the one where Mikey was still alive, clutching that fork and his mother drove a car through the house. He doesn’t know how to explain something like that to you, someone who’s family isn’t as fucked up and dysfunctional as his is.

“I get it.” You say, your hand coming to rest on his arm and he finds himself staring down at it as your thumb traces lightly over the tattoo that’s etched onto his skin. “Christmas isn’t a great time for me either.”

He can’t remember the last time that someone touched him like this, with such care, such gentleness. Richie’s always clapping a hand on his shoulder, shifting him out of the way but it never feels like this. It doesn’t ignite something in his veins the way that yours does, it doesn’t sent a rush of heat flooding through his system.

“You wanna stay?” He asks you, tilting his head up to meet your gaze. “I’m about to make hot pear cider.”

You have such beautiful eyes, he’s never really noticed until now despite the fact he’s been in your company a handful of times. It’s a brilliant, rich hue that leaves him completely captivated as the edges of your mouth tip up into a smile. His heart palpitates in this chest because that smile, it makes something blossom inside of him, something that Carmen has never felt before in his entire life.

“That depends.” You say, your thumb trailing over the scar that resides alongside his tattoo. “Are you going to feed me too?”

“I’d cook you anything you damn well want.” He finds himself telling you before he captures himself, his cheeks flushing at the boldness of his words.

“Surprise me.” You say and he surprises you both by leaning and kissing you instead.

Your lips feel soft underneath his mouth, he can taste the strawberry lip balm, feel the press of your body against his as your fingers thread through his hair drawing him closer. He moans at the sensation because it’s been such a long time since he’s touched another human being like this and you, you make it feel like his entire body is on fire, like he’s burning from the inside out.

“Fuck, I’m sorry…” He says as he tries to pull away because he shouldn’t have done that, he knows he shouldn’t.

Your hands grip the fabric of his chef’s jacket, pulling him back towards you and he complies because this sensation he has, he wants to chase it, he wants to see where it goes, to hurtle head first into it.

“Don’t be.” You murmur, your fingertips ghosting along his cheek with a tenderness he doesn’t deserve. “We should do it again Carmy.”

Love Carmy? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[sugardollcurse]

𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

꒰ pairing ꒱ john lennon x reader

꒰ contains ꒱ guy being a little nuisance

꒰ summary ꒱ john wakes you at 4 a.m. to eat something, but it’s not really about the food.

The knocking started before the dream had even finished fading. You weren’t sure what time it was, but the room was dark and tasted of radiator heat and stale cotton mouth. Something—knuckles?—rapping soft against the doorframe, then louder, like whoever it was thought they could charm their way in just by tapping polite. It worked.

You squinted at the faint shape behind the glass pane on the top half of the door—silhouette of a mop-haired ghoul—and groaned, rolling onto your side. Your legs tangled deeper in the itchy hotel blankets.

“Jesus Christ…” you croaked, voice a gravel pit. “What time is it.”

The knob turned with no shame. Of course it did.

“Only quarter past four,” John said like it was an invitation to tea.

You couldn’t see much but the way his shoulders filled the doorway and the gleam of his grin. The hallway light hit his teeth like mischief incarnate. He had a dish towel in one hand and something wrapped in it—food, you guessed. You groaned again, louder this time.

“John.”

“Mm?” He stepped inside like a stray cat you’d left the door cracked for. “Didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No. M’just always awake at this hour. Best part of the day, isn't it?” You rolled your face into the pillow and mumbled, “If you murder me, I swear to God, you better at least turn off the radiator before you hide the body.”

“D’you want a peach?” he asked, offering the bundle.

You cracked an eye open. “A peach.”

“Yeah.”

“…You broke into my hotel room at four in the morning to offer me fruit.”

“It’s a nice peach.”

You stay silent.

“I washed it n’ everything,” he said with a grin audible in his voice, crouching at the edge of your bed like a schoolboy caught sneaking sweets. “Didn’t even nick it off the room service cart. It was just there, on the table in our room. Lonely. Beggin’ to be eaten, like.”

You sighed so hard it rattled the wall. “Are the others awake?”

“No, they’re normal. M’not.”

“No argument here.”

But you sat up anyway, even though your eyes burned and your hair was a matted halo around your head. You knew he wouldn’t leave until he got what he came for. He was wearing a too-big button-up with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, boxers peeking out from under it, legs pale and meaty and shameless. His hair was a mess. You were sure yours looked worse.

You held your hand out wordlessly, fingers open.

He brightened, plopped the peach into your palm like he’d gifted you the crown jewels. “Knew you’d come ‘round.”

“I didn’t. I’m just too tired to fight.”

“You love me.”

“Not at this hour.”

“But at other hours?”

You paused, the fruit heavy in your hand, his eyes glued to your mouth. He was sitting real close now, and the air smelled like soap and faint tobacco and cheap hotel starch. You looked at the peach. You looked at him. You blinked.

“...I’m not even hungry.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said with a shrug. “I just wanted someone t’ eat it with.”

There was something in the way he said it. Not rushed or jokey. Not his usual poking-the-bear rhythm. Just soft. Plainspoken. Like he meant it.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Why?”

He hesitated, looking at your face like it was a lyric he wasn’t quite ready to write down.

Then: “I just wanted a reason to be with you, is all.”

Your stomach fell through your knees. Your fingers tightened around the peach.

He wasn’t grinning now. Just watching you, calm and naked in that way only sleep-deprived people get. Honest. Dreamy. Blinking slow. You knew he liked you. Everyone knew. The lads teased him about it, George worse than any, but John never confirmed or denied. Just dodged. Deflected. Teased you more, like a schoolboy yanking braids.

But now he was sitting at the foot of your bed, bare-legged, barefoot, pale skin freckled from old sun, and saying things like that. Saying them like they didn’t matter. Like they wouldn’t keep you up the rest of the night.

“I should throw this peach at your head,” you muttered.

“Wouldn’t blame you.”

You turned it over in your hand. It was perfectly ripe. “Is there another one?”

He nodded. “Stashed it. I’ll get it, hang on.”

He disappeared and came back seconds later with another towel-wrapped sphere, flopping into the armchair near the heater, legs sprawling wide open, the fabric of his shirt riding up his thigh. You looked away. He bit into the fruit with a squelch.

“Oh, that’s good,” he said with his mouth full, eyes rolling back like he was about to ascend.

You took a slow bite. Juice slid down your wrist, sticky-sweet. You licked it, then wiped it on your sleeve. “God, we’re disgusting.”

“Speak for yourself, love. I’m dead sexy.”

You snorted. “Says who?”

“Ask the papers.”

“You wrote the papers.”

He grinned, then went quiet, chewing. The radiator ticked. Somewhere down the hall, a pipe hissed like a warning. You looked at each other across the thin hotel air, heat blushing your face from more than the peach.

He licked a dribble from his thumb and didn’t look away.

You nodded. “I’d like to go back to sleep now.”

“Alright.” But he didn’t move.

You looked at him.

“John.”

“Mhm.”

“That means get out.”

“Right.” He stood, stretched, shirt riding up to show a sliver of his stomach. He caught you looking, didn’t comment. His smile just curled crooked. “Ta for the company.”

“Ta for the peach.”

He left, slow, dragging his feet like some melodramatic teenage poet kicked out of his own room, humming something tuneless under his breath like the whole thing hadn’t just been an ambush on your nervous system. The door didn’t click shut behind him. Didn’t even try. It swung half-closed with a lazy creak and stayed there, cracked open like a smirk.

You blinked at it.

Waited.

Stared at the slit of light slicing across the floor like a knife made of irritation.

You sat up. “John.”

Nothing. Just footsteps padding away on ugly hallway carpet. His silhouette vanished, and the light stayed, obnoxious as his voice.

“John!”

Still nothing.

“JOHN CLOSE THE DOOR!”

The hallway remained silent. The door didn’t budge.

You made a noise that wasn’t quite human—something between a sigh and a strangled scream—and grabbed what was left of your peach, cold and chewed and dripping from where you’d bitten off half the world. You lobbed it with all the grace of a pissed-off ghost. It hit the edge of the door with a damp splock and bounced pitifully onto the carpet, leaving a glistening smear of peach guts behind like a wounded soldier.

The door didn’t close.

You collapsed back onto the mattress, groaning so loud the radiator winced.

"Bastard."

[attapullman]

The Perfect Pink | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: While bartending for Rolling Acres Retirement's Valentine's Party, you encounter a pink-cheeked man and his cherry-loving cousins.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: all fluff with alcohol mentions

A Note From Mo: Here is my Pink Lady fic for @thedroneranger's Pick Your Poison event to go with this gorg moodboard! As a part-time mixologist and full-time Bob Floyd lover, this was such a fun concept to play around with and has inspired me to come up with more pink drinks. I've never been a Valentine's girly, but I fully believe this pink-cheeked WSO could convince me otherwise. To everyone who reads this, I love you bunches and bunches, all 365 days in the year!

It’s so pink. Horrendously. Abysmally. Pepto-bismally. PINK.

When you agreed to tend the bar in a pinch, a few bundles of carnations and candy pink paper hearts were your guess for the evening’s decorations. But when you showed up to Rolling Acres Retirement's Valentine’s Party holding a crate of soda water and a handful of shakers, your senses flatlined with the amount of pink covering every surface.

Petal pink tablecloths straightened over round tables; a small bouquet of magenta carnations attached to each folding chair and incensing the recreation hall of the retirement home. Heart-covered paper plates and folded napkins set up at each place setting, glittering confetti sprinkled around the tableware. The ceiling isn’t even a reprieve, a rainbow of fuchsia and rose and flamingo and blush balloons filling up every available inch of space.

Suzette on the front desk had complimented your dusky pink sweater - an appropriate choice for the holiday - but set against this backdrop you feel like another decoration. An oversized bauble that also makes cocktails and pours cheap wine.

And now, standing behind this makeshift card-table-turned-bar covered in bubblegum crepe paper, your brain might explode in a cloud of hot pink smoke. Counting out pours and trying not to slice yourself making garnishes is a struggle keeping up with all these orders. While the average age of the party goer may be eighty, they drink more than the 21st birthday bash you bartended last weekend. You’ve been here all of an hour and Mrs. Moscovitz has already downed three fuschia cosmopolitans.

While disappointed you don’t have more romantic Valentine’s Day plans - though, when have you ever had a date on this too pink day? - it’s fun to see who’s turned up to celebrate. White-haired couples are swaying on the makeshift dance floor, every shade of pink and red in their attire. Bridge groups and knitting circles are excitedly chatting at their respective tables, gossiping over who is in attendance and with whom. Even the staff have wide grins splitting their faces, enjoying the festivities that break up the bleak winter. It’s the least you can do to spend the holiday providing beverages for this crowd.

The best part is the families. While romantic love is thick in the air, so is platonic love. Family members of all ages have come out to spend the holiday with the residents. Mr. Gordon’s daughter and her family have driven hours to catch up over pot roast and sparkling cider while his grandson plays trucks over a pile of chocolates he snuck from Suzette.

Orders have slowed down and your eyes keep glancing over to Ms. Floyd’s table. The entire clan has showed up for dinner, dancing, and to take home a batch of her homemade snickerdoodles. Multiple relatives are taking up two entire heart-sprinkled tables. Your focus is mainly on the second table for too far from you, where the grandkids have been relegated to play cards and swap candy hearts to pass the time.

“Why don’t you go ask the pink lady for more cherries.” God, he’s cute. The only guy in this place near your age and his attention is stolen by a pair of toddler girls obsessed with the cherries in their Shirley temples. 

You divert your eyes quickly when you realize he’s talking about you and your pink sweater. The girls giggle shyly, the high pitched squeals of glee as they convince him to go up instead. Fiddling with shakers, wiping down the counter, you try to stay busy as you physically feel him approach the converted bar and your trembling hands.

“Hi!” His smile is thin and nervous and his cheeks are pink, blushing from his little cousins and their antics. Also because you’re much prettier up close and he’s wearing a shirt he’d never normally be caught in if his grandma hadn’t picked it out. 

He’s much cuter at this distance as well. Sandy hair combed neatly, one small strand slipping out behind his ear. Friendly cerulean eyes framed by golden wire spectacles, similar to the ones several of the ex-military men at Rolling Acres are sporting. His thin lips falter slightly as he takes in how well the pink of your sweater compliments your skin. God, he wishes he wasn’t wearing this shirt.

You spring into service mode and grab a fresh cocktail shaker. “What can I do you for?”

“I’m technically up here for some cherries.” You dutifully nod, hoping to hide the fact you’ve been watching him converse with the toddler girls in their matching baby pink dresses most of the night. You make a small dish of cherries up and push it toward him, shaking your head when he attempts to pay. “The thirty-eight cents of cherries is a small expense for a night those two will talk about for weeks. They’re on the house.”

He grabs the dish with a smile, but realizes he now has no excuse to stay by the bar. And while he loves his cousins, he’s on leave for a few more weeks and you’re really pretty. A few extra minutes wouldn’t hurt. He extends his hand with a timid smile. “I’m Bob.”

You reach out and shake his hand back as you introduce yourself, hoping the condensation coating your fingers isn’t too noticeable. He immediately commits your name to memory, happy to replace “The Pink Lady” with a name as fitting to you as yours.

He moves out of the way as a woman in a magenta scarf orders a round for her bingo group. Bob watches as you whir into action, pouring liquors and counting off ounces. The delicate way you garnish each drink so the owner feels special. Your gracious smile when a tip is stuffed into the heart-shaped velvet box provided to you for tips.

When the line at the bar dies down, he sidles back up to your makeshift station. Bob notices the way you eye the decorations warily, still adjusting to the deafening pink of it all. He drums lightly on the blushing pink tablecloth, catching your wide-eyed attention. “Everything all right?”

“Uh, this place is too…pink?” you laugh, gesturing to the overabundance of rosy hues surrounding you. For possibly the first time all night, Bob realizes that while you were the only pink thing that had his attention, it is suffocating in the recreation hall. 

“Yes, yes it is,” he chuckles right back, eyes soaking in the offending decorations. There’s a comfortable air between the two of you, and he decides to push his luck for more time with The Pink Lady.

Bob clears his throat, pulse thrumming through his body. Tonight is his one and only chance to land a date with the pretty bartender.

“So, to go with the theme, what is the pinkest drink you can make me?” He wiggles his eyebrows, his best attempt at flirting. A hint of a giggle escapes as you purse your lips, contemplating his challenge. 

“I can make you a pink lady.” 

He narrows his eyes. “Is that a real drink, or have you named it after yourself?”

“It’s real, I promise.” You’re all smiles at his attention as you combine the gin, applejack, and grenadine with a splash of lemon juice. He really could watch you work for hours.

As you reach for the last ingredient, his eyes bug out. “Is that an egg?” He’s a Navy man, his normal bar only has cocktails with two ingredients. Since when did eggs go in cocktails?

“When you dry shake an egg white it creates this nice foam, adds to the drink.” While he wants to come across as open-minded and cultured, he’s hesitant. “If you don’t like it, I’ll make you something else.”

He’s bewitched as you pour the perfectly pink drink into a plastic coup, the creamy white foam rising to top it off. A cherry balances the rim, one that won’t be stolen by his mischievous cousins. As he looks between the freshly poured drink and you, he swears your cheeks are the same happy pink.

You push the drink toward him, excited to share something new with a customer. Always a gamble as a bartender, but worth it when you expand someone’s palate. He gives you a tentative smile, unsure if he’s going to like it, but he really wants to impress you. In return, you give him an encouraging nod, completely unsure of how this will go. He takes a sip, the frothy mixture coating his tongue.

As far as he’s concerned, the drink is named after you. Not too sweet, not too tart, a divinely balanced combination of flavors in a perfect pink concoction. Bob is convinced you would taste just as good, especially with a cherry. The thought makes his brain blank.

“Do you like it?” Your hopeful eyes are endearing. He wants to brush the strand of hair from your cheek and assure you that he likes it, that he’d like anything you made him because you made it. But you’re practically strangers so he stumbles over his words as he promises it’s delicious. 

The bowl of cherries for his cousins still in his hand, Bob stands to the side of the bar and sips his tartly sweet drink, casually keeping up conversation with you as you serve other patrons. You’re glad for the company, enjoying the way he asks about your technique and mutters out the few things he knows about wine from conversations with his aunt. Despite the fact you’re working, it’s the best Valentine’s Day you’ve had in years with this bespectacled man watching you tend bar.

He’s just so cute, blushing his own special pink hue when your eyes connect while you shake up a few martinis.

“Uncle Bob!” There is no mistaking who is calling him over. Two identical heads pouting as they motion him over. His time with you is up. He gives you a sweet smile, trying to memorize every inch of your face, before motioning his hand filled with cherries in their direction. You bittersweetly grin right back, smile lingering as you start on Mr. Nickerson’s two merlots as you watch his broad shoulders walk away.

Oh, how you wish he would come back.

Because it’s a retirement home and not a frat house, by ten the party is wrapping up. You’ve exchanged shy glances with Bob a handful of times, but his family has taken up most of his attention with Navy questions and inquiring when he’s going to visit next. He barely registers the event is over before he’s rummaging through his mom’s handbag with his last attempt at salvaging the night.

You’re cleaning up your supplies when the Floyd clan walks past, all waving good night to you and the staff, thanking you all for a great Valentine’s night. The girls thank you for their cherries, a stem hanging from one’s lip. 

Staggering at the end of the crowd is Bob, his cheeks flushed and palms tingling. He stands in front of your table, rocking on his heels, working up his courage. You give him a warm smile, thanking him for his company, and he completely melts. As he holds up his occupied hand, he hopes this works.

“Forgot to slip this in earlier.” His smile is tense as he jams a few dollars through the absurdly small hole in your improvised tip box. You thank him before both blurting out awkward goodbyes. As he catches up with his family, a pang rings through your chest. Disappointed he’s gone, never to be seen again. 

Bob Floyd, a Valentine’s mirage you will remember fondly.

Once all your things are packed, you square things up with Suzette with your pay for the event and a promise to stop by to visit the residents later in the month. You schlep everything to the car, a mixture of emotions painting your face in the rearview mirror as you make your way back home. The weight of defeat keeping you from bringing anything inside except for that damn tip box you’re hoping will cover groceries for the week.

You pry open the velvet lid and are met with the best surprise.

There, at the bottom of your substitute tip jar, underneath all the singles the elderly stiffed you with, was a scrap of cheap rosy pink napkin. You unfurl it to see neat chicken scratch handwriting, the pen poking through the fabric in spots as he worked to write out his message with a phone number beneath.

I’m here until the 27th. Drinks on me? - Bob

Now that you think about it, maybe you do like pink.

taglist: @berryvanille @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @cosmoeticss @creatchie8 @drxgxnslxyer @hangmanapologist @hiireadstuff @jessicab1991 @just-in-case-iloveyou @kmc1989 @maryelizabeth13 @petersunderoos96 @rhettsluvr @roosterforme @seitmai @sweetwhispersofchaos @topherwrites @xoxabs88xox @yuckosworld

join the taglist

[mercurycft]

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 — 𝐋𝐁

## lucy bronze x reader !!

Hello everyone! Thank you all so much for the love on part one of this — Without further ado, here’s the final part.. I hope you enjoy.. especially the surprise at the end ;) oh i just love a cliff hanger moment! ENJOY! love always - RG x

part 1 here part 2: 1,445 words - this is dirty, be warned!

MATURE CONTENT & LANGUAGE 18+

The night had been a blur up until this point, a whirlwind of double shots and cheap drinks. The dancing, singing and laughter seemed to drift into the back of your mind as you found yourself here. Pinned below your right-back, legs spread with only a few layers of fabric shielding her skin from yours. Your nerve endings felt like they were on fire, electricity souring through your veins - embedded under your skin and fueling your desire.

The pads of her fingertips sat behind the barrier of your underwear, teasing with tight and precise circles around your clit. You couldn't find it within yourself to look at her, eyebrows furrowed tightly together and hips thrusting up off the sheets - head thrown back with your mouth agape, silently begging for more friction. She was quiet for a moment, admiring you like this. Spread out for her. Desperate for her.

Lucy's ability to read you was unlike anything you had ever known. She noticed how your knees began to wobble and your chest lifted and fell faster. "Look at me." She announced, applying more pressure onto the bundle of nerves that throbbed between your legs. Though you gave no response. You could barely function, the thrill of it all catching up to you just as relief was starting to creep up on you, so the chances of you mustering the strength to look at her were slim. That was until you felt a tender hand clasp around your jaw, roughly pulling your head down to make eye contact with her. "I said, look at me."

Both staring at each other, you were sure you could pass out from how hot it was. This was Lucy's favourite part, watching you squirm under her - mouth parted and cheeks flushed a deep red. You had never been very vocal during sex. Or submissive. You didn't know if it was the alcohol, but something deep inside you loved this. Loved watching the older woman have her way with you. “Fuck Luce, please..”

“Please what, darlin'?” Lucy smirked, feigning innocence as she watched you stumble on your words - practically losing the ability to form a coherent sentence for her. She knew you were close, amused by the desperate look on your face "Are you gonna cum for me? Gonna show me how good you are, love?"

You nodded quickly, mouth opening to let out a gasping moan - as Lucy suddenly tore her hand away, allowing you to teeter on the edge of your orgasm. Smirking wickedly when you fell back into the sheets, whining at the loss of contact. "That isn't fair, Lu-" You couldn't finish your sentence, her lips attaching to yours with her hands now in your hair - gripping it roughly.

"Not fair? Don't you want me to fuck you, baby?" She mumbled against your lips seductively, pulling you away by your hair and raising her eyebrows - giving you the chance to object. Instead, you nodded meekly, a gentle blush carefully creeping across the apples of your cheeks at the filth that so effortlessly left her mouth. "Don't you want my fingers? Hm? You wanna feel my tongue?" Rhetorical. She knew you did - very aware of you now rubbing your thighs together - desperately searching for any form of release.

You were almost salivating as she made her way down your neck, nipping and soothing the soft skin. She lingered over your chest again, bra still bunched and pulled down - nipples on full display for her and her mouth. Lucy placed kisses on each of them, sucking gently and then moving down. Lips grazing the skin of your stomach, her breaths sharp and deep.

When she was finally parallel to your underwear, she hesitated. Looking up at you and studying your features for any doubt. When she couldn't find it, she continued. This time placing firm kisses right over the cloth, pressing her lips directly over your clit - enjoying the small noises you let out from above her. She wasted no time in actually removing your pants, instead lacing her fingers beneath the fabric and pulling them over - salivating when you were finally revealed to her "Jesus Christ, Y/L/N. You're fuckin' soaked." She chuckled lowly, licking her lips and edging closer to you.

It wasn't long before her lips puckered around the bundle of nerves, pressing tender kisses. Allowing her tongue to pass through your folds and savour your sweetness. Her breathing quickened against you, feeling you grind down onto her tongue. Her hands gripped your thighs, pulling you flush up to her face - her deep eyes locked on you above her - one arm crossed over your face to muffle your sultry moans and the other laid over the back of her head, guiding her.

You shuddered when she released your thigh from her right hand, using it to spread your legs further while she propped herself up slightly - hoping for a better view.

She had you exactly how she wanted you, shaking and messy. Lucy’s tongue moved smoothly, flicking over your clit as her fingers caressed between your folds, coating them generously. You finally looked down at her, core throbbing at the sight you were met with. Bloodshot, hungry eyes staring straight back up at you. "Please Luce, need you to fuck me." You whimpered. Lucy didn't reply with words, instead, she gently slips in two fingers. Pulling away to watch you as she pressed up against your tightening walls, leaving her thumb to toy with your clit. Your legs stiffen at the feeling, a delicious heat spreading through your body and a hand lifting to smack across your lips as you cry out. She stilled for a moment, feeling you constrict and pulsate around her fingers. When she felt the tension ease, she started to move. Thrusting her fingers in deep and hard strokes, curling them perfectly into your G-spot.

Your legs were shaking now, mind blank and consciousness clouded by your unwavering desire to cum. The feeling of her pressing against you and working you up had you seeing stars behind your eyelids. You could feel your orgasm building, a fire now raging in the depths of your stomach as Lucy places precise and gentle kisses along your hips, savouring the sound and feel of her fingers inside you.

Her muscles tensed when she felt you throb around her, now chasing the stolen orgasm of earlier. You were in a cloud of bliss, your skin on fire when she started talking to you again. Taunting you with her words as she sped up, "Are you going to cum for me, darlin'?" You couldn't respond, instead bucking your hips and moaning out a string of swear words jumbled with her name.

"Fuck, Luce I'm so close, please don't stop!" The sight of you begging was a mental image she was never going to forget, your heart ringing in your ears as your hips thrashed against the mattress.

Your orgasm ripped through you like a freight train. Legs shaking and lips quivering as she had you cumming around her fingers, still thrusting them and using her tongue to carry you through it - chanting her name as you came. When her fingers finally stilled, you took a deep breath - still clenching around her.

"Jesus christ," You whispered, watching as she slowly removed her fingers and brought them up to her own lips - tongue darting out to clean up the mess. Your mess. You watched as she skillfully licked them clean and moved so your lips could meet once more, the intoxicating mixture of her mouth and you was something you wanted to experience every day.

After a minute of sloppy kisses, tongues exploring each other's mouths, you tried to move towards her but she lifted a hand to stop you. Whispering gently, "You stay here, love." pressing a warm kiss to your forehead then rising off the bed and out your bedroom door.

_________

You lay there for a minute or two, eyes fighting sleep before she appeared in the room again. This time with a towel in hand, helping you clean up before discarding the towel and moving to lay beside you tangled in the sheets - pulling you closer and making sure you were wrapped up comfortably.

You sat in silence for a while, indulging in the atmosphere and trying not to be stolen into the land of sleep before you looked up at her - eyes wide and glossy. "Shall I return the favour?" You asked sweetly, tracing shapes across her stomach.

"Oh darlin' There will be plenty of opportunities for that.."

_________

surprise! part three on its way!

[sai-int]

HOW TO DISAPPEAR | Two Fingers - 3

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mlist . series mlist . ao3

SEVEN YEARS AGO

The roar of the helo blades finally faded, giving way to the raw energy of Pierpoint Ave. Snowflakes tumble lazily, clinging to your hair and disappearing in the warmth of your skin, but the night was anything but still. The sharp bite of the winter air mixed with the faint tang of motor oil and sea-foam from the docks just a few blocks away. Around you, the street is alive—a messy, vibrant blur of voices and movement.

People spill in and out of crowded bars, bundled in coats, their laughter cutting through the cold. A group of friends lean against a brick wall under a flickering neon beer sign, their chatter punctuated by the clink of bottles. Music pours out of open doorways, each beat blending with the next in a chaotic rhythm that makes the street hum. The wet pavement shimmers under the streetlights, catching the kaleidoscope of flashing signs advertising cheap shots, happy hours, and live music.

You sidestep a stumbling couple, their arms around each other as they hail a cab, and catch the smell of Halal food from a vendor, wafting through the sea breeze. This was Pierpoint after dark—a rowdy stretch of bars, neon, and noise that somehow made the February cold bearable. It’s a world away from the places you’d been, but it feels real, familiar, and grounding in its own chaotic way.

“Oi, did ye lot see th' look on tha' bastard's face when I dropped through th' skylight? Shittin' his briefs, I tell ye!” Johnny's voice rings out, his laughter loud and unabashed as he claps Kyle on the shoulder. Anybody who didn't know him might've thought he was already drunk.. 

You step over a broken curb as you walk alongside the group, the crunch of gravel and leftover snow from last week’s storm crackling under your boots. The air around you still carries a tang of gunpowder, mingling with the fading buzz of adrenaline.

“The bastard you nearly squashed?” Kyle shoots back, his smirk almost audible even before you turn your head. “Could’ve sworn I saw your life flash before your eyes, mate.”

“Flash o' brilliance, more like,” Johnny counters, undeterred, his grin illuminated in the passing orange glow of a neon sign.

“Flash of stupidity, more like,” Simon deadpans through the chatter from behind the group. You chuckle and glance over your shoulder, only his dark eyes visible under his hood and balaclava. They briefly catch yours before looking elsewhere.

“Aw, come off it, L.T. Ye were impressed, admit it!” Johnny’s grin stretches wider, brimming with mischief as he sluings an arm around Simon's shoulders. The reaction was immediate—a subtle stiffening in Simon's posture, like a cat bristling at a belly rub. But after a second he relents, his shoulders loosening just enough to let the Scot hang off him.

The sign emerges through the swirling snow, its weathered letters illuminated by flickering neon, painting uneven pools of red across the street. Tether and Tide. Second home of the Task Force and the de facto welcome wagon each time you all came home from an Op alive. The familiar scent of stale beer, fried food, and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke reached you. The near erotic twang of an electric guitar filtered out each time the door swung open and shut, carried by the laughter of drunken strangers coming and going. 

“Oi, enough chatter,” Price speaks over his shoulder, his voice like distant thunder—low, calm, and steady. The way it carries makes you straighten unconsciously, demanding your attention even off duty. “First round’s on me—so long as I don’t hear about that damn skylight again.”

With a chuckle and a shake of your head, you step ahead of the group, your boots scuffing against the uneven pavement, and approach the door. The chill of the metal handle bites into your palm, a stark contrast to the warmth that spills out as you tug the door open. The honey-golden glow of the interior stretches toward you like a warm blanket.

Simon steps through first, his broad shoulders brushing the frame as he moves with quiet confidence. Johnny and Kyle follow close behind, their banter carrying on, though their voices dipping briefly as they disappear into the bar.

You linger at the threshold, waiting for Price to follow the others. His hand brushes lightly against your mid-back—a subtle, fleeting touch that stops you. “Go on,” he hums, his voice quieter, carrying an unexpected gentleness. He holds the door open for you, his steady gaze locking with yours for just a moment longer than appropriate. There was a calm assurance in his blue eyes, but beneath it lingers something that makes your chest tighten and your breath catch.

“Thanks, Sir,” you say, the words slip out softer than you mean, almost a whisper. A brief smile pulls at the corner of his lips, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he gazes at you. Without another word, you step through the door and he follows close behind, letting it swing shut behind him with a quiet creak.

The familiarity of Tether and Tide is accompanied by the buzz of conversation and sticky floors, a jukebox in the corner crackles a bluesy tune that sounds like it’s been playing since the place opened decades ago.

You scan the small joint, Simon, Johnny, and Kyle already claimed the usual spot—the worn booth in the back corner with its clear view of the room and an easy path to the exit. Price steps beside you and nods toward it, the faint scent of a Montecristo he'd smoked on the flight back home wafting to your nose.

You slide into the booth first, the familiar, worn leather creaks softly as you sink into the corner, the seat feeling like it was molded to you. The faint scent of cigars and leather comes from the seats, a comforting reminder of all the times you’d spent here before. Price slides in beside you, the space tight but still comfortable. His broad shoulders brush against yours, It stirs something warm in your chest, a flutter you quickly push aside. Johnny’s already brightening up the corner of the dingy bar.

“Alright, alright. Tae makeup fer my blabbin', first round’s on me. Save th' Captain some cash,” Johnny announces, puffing his chest dramatically as he shrugs off his coat, the fabric damp from the flurry outside, droplets glistening under the dim light as he drapes it over the back of the booth chair.

“Just make sure you don’t blow the tab on one of your fancy cocktails,” Kyle mumbles, brushing flakes of snow from his own jacket as he drapes it alongside Johnny’s.

Johnny turns, clutching his chest like he’s been stabbed. “Fancy?? Pint o' lager, plain an' simple. Dinnae be cheeky-”

“You? Plain and simple?” you interrupt, shooting him a teasing, pointed look. The corner of your mouth twitches in a half-smile, and the warmth of the bar begins to seep into your limbs, chasing away the chill.

Your usual waiter, Jared, came and went. Soon enough, he came back with a tray of drinks and distributed them across the table. With the first sips, the tension of the mission evaporated. Johnny was—once again—gesturing wildly as he described some escapade from his training days. In your tipsy haze, you kept egging him on, while Simon offered the occasional deadpan quip. 

John was always quieter than the rest, his presence felt more than heard. His arm is draped casually behind you, fingers resting just over the back of the booth as if he’s staking his claim in the space. His beanie sits low on his head, casting his face in shadow as he sips his two-fingers of Red Label with a quiet ease, the amber liquid catching the light.

The waiter comes back, setting down rounds two and three with a practiced ease. Johnny, as usual, knocks back pints like it’s second nature. Your drink crawls down your throat with a slow burn, and by the time you finished your second, you were feeling it—a little light-headed and looser than before.

You glance over at Price, who hadn’t said much since you all sat down. But the soft smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth and the occasional laugh that slipped out at one of Simon’s jokes tells you he’s starting to settle in too. He seems lighter, like the weight of the world was a little less heavy here.

You could feel his gaze on you now and then, a subtle burn against your skin. Each time you turned to meet it, though, he’d casually look away, his expression neutral but definitely guarded

You see it in the way his jaw clenches as he takes a slow sip from his glass—the wince as the whiskey burns down his throat. You see it in the way his throat clears after the fact, the way his posture shifts, or how the grip on his glass tightens. 

The others begin drifting off, the night winds down as the laughter and conversation starts to lose their momentum to inebriation. Simon was the first to take leave. With a slight nod and a quiet murmur of farewell, he stood, gave you and John a glance, and disappeared into the night without another word. 

It was only another half hour before Kyle was up, rubbing his face with a groan. He slaps Johnny on the back as he yaps something incomprehensibly Scottish. Kyle throws a look in John’s direction.

“I’ll take him home,” Kyle sighs, trying to get Johnny up.

“A'm perfectly braw! straecht! nae blootert at a', see! Juist yin mair pint….” Johnny mumbles, his words slurring together in a mess of just... Scottish.

“Johnny, what the fuck did you just say?,” You squint, trying to untangle the sounds. For a moment, you think you have it, but with a huff and a drink, you give up. It might as well have been a different language.

“Ah, c'moan!” he protests, gesturing wildly with a half empty pint in hand. “A'm no’ that hard tae unnerstaun’, aye?”

“Come on, man, you’re right pissed,” Kyle says as he hooks an arm under Johnny’s shoulder to steady him. He sways dramatically, grinning like a fool, but doesn’t argue.

Kyle casts a glance back at you and Price, his expression is somewhere between amused and exasperated. “You two good here?” he questions, tilting his head toward the door.

Your eyes dart between him and Kyle, John snorts. “We’ll be fine. Get him home before he starts singing.”

You chuckle, looking at Johnny. “Too late for that.”

He hums something unintelligible, already halfway to bursting into song as Kyle hauls him out of the bar. With one last look, Kyle nods his farewell before leaving the bar, the sound of Johnny's voice fades as the door swings shut behind them.

With the last of the team gone, the table feels hollow. It’s just you and Price as the bar settles into the background. You take a measured sip of your drink, the warmth spreading through your chest, whilst Price drains the last of his whiskey in a single, practiced motion. He catches the waiter’s attention with a subtle lift of his hand, signaling for another. His movements are unhurried.

For a bit, neither of you speak. He shifts in the booth and relaxes further, but the space between you still feels unsteady, like winds ruffling sails before a storm.

“Good mission,” he says as Jared the Waiter wordlessly brings Price's second round.

You nod, toying with the rim of your glass. “Good team.”

His gaze shifts and lingers on you for a moment, “They look up to you, you know.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Captain,” you jest, shaking your head.

“John," he starts, "call me John when it's just us, love.” his eyes flicking to you over the rim of his glass. Everything about him presses against your chest like a weight. The air changed in that moment, a subtle shift that made everything feel a little sharper. He sent his glass down, leaving yet another ring of condensation. “You keep them steady.”

His gaze pins you in place. There was no humor in his eyes, no armor—just him. Pure genuinity of which you've never seen from him—not often fortunate enough to be on the receiving end of such rare praise. It hits you like a blow to the liver, breathless. You can’t handle the weight of his stare, so you deflect, turning away with a smile curling at the corner of your lips and a Gallic shrug. “That’s your job, John.”

He smirks, feeling sparks in his heart just listening to the way the syllables of his name twist and mould and fall from your lips. He tilts his head, watching you as you try to pull away. The drinks have gotten to his head, but there was no stopping John Price when he set his sights on something. “And… You make it damn easy,” he replies, his voice soft but steady, like he means it.

The easy camaraderie between boss and subordinate quickly gives way to something heavier. He shifts to face you completely, his forearm rests on the table, his posture open yet purposeful. His gaze lingers, studying you like he’s trying to decipher a code only you hold.

“You know,” he squints like he’s peeling back layers, his voice lowering with a playful edge, “you clean up nice for someone who just stormed a compound not eight hours ago.”

You turn back to him with a raised eyebrow, fighting the smile that threatens to break through. “Are you sweet-talking me?”

His lips twitch into a dopey, lopsided grin. “Is it working?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

Something flickers in his eyes, soft, unguarded, like he was letting you see a part of him he usually kept hidden. Maybe it was the whiskey, or maybe it was the way the night had slowed around you, but you caught yourself wondering what it might feel like to let his warmth draw you in, to stop pretending the line wasn’t rapidly greying.

You didn’t realize you were staring until his voice cut through the quiet, low and teasing, with a hint of unmistakable confidence that’s been catching you off-guard in record numbers.

“Careful,” he warns, his gaze steady on yours, the faintest smirk plays at the corners of his lips. “Keep looking at me like that, and I might start wondering if you’re after more than just drinks.”

You lean closer to him, deciding to toe the line. If he wants to play dirty, you’re ready to take a foul. “And if I am?”

His smile widened, the challenge in his eyes unmistakable. "Guess we’ll see."

He took a sip of his drink as you did yours, the cool, bitter liquid offering a brief reprieve from the tension. His hand inches over from where it rests on the booth to brush your shoulder. The gentle circles he traces with the pads of his fingers are light, almost absentminded, but they send a shiver down your spine. “You’re a tough one to read,” he cocks his head, “always have been. Thought a few drinks might loosen you up.”

You roll your eyes, but your tone carries the faintest hint of a smile, betraying the amusement you try to hide. “A few drinks won’t have me spilling any secrets, John.”

His fingers travel to the back of your neck like he’s just waiting for the order to pull you into him, circling and kneading. His eyes drop to your lips for a second before he adjusts, his blue eyes heavy on you. “That right?” he hums, mischief threading his tone. “Been known to keep a few myself.”

Your heart thrums in your ears. There’s an edge to his words, but you know one thing for certain: John Price had a way of weaseling into your mind and turning it into mush.

“Keeping secrets?” you repeat, a small, teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Sounds risky.”

He shrugs, his fingers grazing the edge of his glass, his smirk curls up like he knows exactly what it’s doing to you. “Everything is risky.”

It does do something to you, something you hate, but can’t fight. You feel the heat build, the temptation to close the space between you and swallow it whole. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, fighting the pull, the urge to let it happen.

“Are you always this forward?” you ask, your voice low and full of curiosity. You lean in slightly, giving into him. A part of you wonders just how far he'll push this—if he wants it as bad as you did.

John’s eyes glint. “Only with the ones who can keep up,” he says, the words thick with meaning, He treads closer, lowering his voice, as if daring you to take the bait. “I know you can, can’t you, doll?”

That was the line, wasn’t it? “I'll have to prove it, won’t I?”

John doesn’t respond at first, he just looks at you like he’s savoring the moment. You can feel the weight of it, the quiet way he lets you know that, in this space, you have him just as much as he has you.

You hesitate for just a second, the weight of the decision grips you like a vice. But then, he inches, meeting you halfway—a silent offer, an unspoken agreement. His gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips, and you sucked in a breath, not expecting the scent of him to fill your lungs.

"I'm sure," you nodded.

And then, before you can second-guess yourself, before hesitation has a chance to creep in, his hand drifts to the nape of your neck. His fingers weave gently through the soft strands of your hair, his touch deliberate yet unhurried. A shiver courses through you, and you exhale, a quiet sigh escaping before you can stop it.

His gaze drops to your lips, his eyes darkening with something unspoken. The warmth of his breath brushes against your skin, the space between you impossibly small. He lets out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, the sound carrying a weight that makes your heart skip a beat.

John inches until his mustache tickles yours like a spark threatening to catch fire. His breath mingles with yours, hot and uneven, a tantalizing promise of more. A thing neither of you dare to admit aloud, yet it pulses there, ready to explode if you let it.

You press your lips to his, a low groan escaping him as he savored the feel of you, the taste of you, something sweet, like something he’d been craving for far too long. He immediately pulls you in, flashes of heat lasting long enough to leave you gasping, your heart thundering in your chest. 

It ends too soon. He pulls away, but the rush lingers, a whirl of desire that neither of you were prepared for. He can still taste you on his tongue, and fuck, no amount of whiskey could wash that away. It clings to him, marking him, and he can't decide if that made him want more or to pull away entirely.

His lips remain just a breath away from yours, his gaze dark and knowing. His voice drops. “Maybe we shouldn’t,” he murmured, his thumb gliding over your cheek, deliberately slow. “But I know you’ve been wanting this. You think I don’t notice the way you watch me?”

Your eyes flick to his, voice sharp with need. “You think I didn't notice how you couldn't keep your eyes off me earlier?”

His lips brush against yours, just barely, and he smirks. “Don't lie 'n say you don't get off on it, dove.”

He might as well have thrown the line on top of a pinless grenade. Your hand found its way into his cropped hair, tugging him closer as he leans in, pushing you so far back in the booth that your back hits the wall with a jolt. 

The kiss deepens, all teeth and tongue, spit dribbling with the taste of liquor mingling on each other's tongue. His fingers dig into you, pulling you closer, like he can’t get enough. His rough beard scrapes your cheeks, the burn of it only adding to the heat surging through you. John’s grip is brutally tight, his paws on your hips and thighs, your neck and tits—everything about him claims you. 

He’s anchored on you, holding you, searing his touch into your skin and leaving you breathless, ruined for anyone else. Nothing else existed—just you and him, pressed against the wall of a worn-down booth in the corner of Tether and Tide, snowflakes fluttering against the window pane. Every inch of him is branded into you so you’ll never be able to forget the feel of him. 

And you wouldn’t

[epiphainie]

Fuck it Friday

tagged by @firehose118 (tyyy 💛💛💛)

have a little moment of longing from engine purr pt 2 which i hope to finish by january 1st (6th at the latest!)

Buck couldn’t relate. He wanted all the time. He longed and yearned and felt hungry in the deep pit of his stomach for what felt like since the day he was born. He felt selfish for it, and he felt stupid, but he couldn’t help it. He looked at the man in front of him, and he wanted to be in his garage, silently watch him as he worked. He wanted to be bundled in his bed, with one bare foot kicked out of the blankets, so Tommy could wake him up by running his fingertips over his sole. He wanted Tommy’s cramped bathroom, and he wanted the cheap frozen waffles. He wanted Tommy’s hand twisting the root of his hair so hard that it stung, and he wanted to see him strip. In Buck’s dreams, Tommy always wore a tank top. He was unrestricted in that free, empty corner of the world to be everything Buck wanted from him. Tommy right now was layered in winter fabric. A warm jacket over his cherry sweater, looking soft-edged, a faded quality of age that made him seem so out of reach for Buck.  Whatever aching in Buck, cracked open at the thought.

tags (np, sorry if you already posted for today) @cliophilyra @weewookinard @newtkelly @bidisasterevankinard @rcmclachlan

[ruggiesbiologicalfather]

it's cold, it's december, so here it is:

Snow Day At NRC

No classes - a rare sight - but that doesn't stop you from being awake far too early for your taste. A loud pounding on the door sends Grim into a yowling fit and brings you grumbling to the front door of Ramshackle. But it's hard to stay sour at the sight of Ace, Deuce, and Epel standing there bundled up head-to-toe, holding cheap plastic sleds, and grinning from ear to ear. Apparently Ramshackle has the best hills for sledding and you would definitely fit on Epel's sled if you want and it would be awful for the snow to go to waste and what else are you even going to do with your day? You barely have enough time to grab your coat and boots before you and Grim are being dragged out the door.

As much as you grumble as you trudge through the shin-deep snow, you can't deny that the hills surrounding your dorm are the perfect height and slope for sledding. It doesn't take more than five seconds for Epel to go barreling down penguin-style, hollering at the top of his lungs the entire way. You can't help but laugh at Deuce trying to fold his long legs criss-cross-applesauce style within the circular sheet of plastic that serves as his poor excuse for a sled. His middle finger is the last thing you see before Ace kicks the back of his sled and sends him down. You can barely get a word of warning out before Deuce's body slams full-force into Epel as he's dragging his sled back up the hill and immediately folds him like a ragdoll. Epel unleashes a storm of foul language that sends Ace into a fit of hysterical laughter.

This situation is apparently so funny that he can't possibly take a turn on his sled and he hands it to you. It's one of the long, plastic ones with a neon yellow string attached to one end. You decide to sit with your legs facing the string and do your best to coax Grim aboard without resorting to bribery. At first, he refuses, even going to far to demand that you return him home. But then he decides it's much cozier to be settled in your lap than left behind in the snow. And so with one hand on the string and the other arm around Grim, you're off.

The wind whips brutally against your cheeks and blows the hood of your coat clean off your head. Grim's claws cement themselves into your sleeve and your mouth is bombarded with his fur. But as the sled slows to a stop, your chest aches from laughter.

The trek back up the hill feels less daunting than before - even with Grim tucked under your arm - because it comes with the promise of another trip down. The boys have created the perfect rhythm of coming and going with only three sleds so no one has to wait too long for their turn. However, it doesn't take long for polite turn-taking transforms into quiet scheming.

As Ace mounts his sled for another journey down the hill, Deuce seizes him by the hood of his coat and yanks him backwards. He lets out a loud yelp as he begins to scrap with his attacker, trying - and failing - to avoid getting pinned down in the snow. Once Deuce manages to flip Ace onto his back and sit on his stomach, Epel releases the onslaught of snowballs he's been stockpiling directly into Ace's face.

"That's fer sendin' him into me!" Epel shouts. "That shit hurt!"

"This is excessive!" Ace screeches in response between snowballs. Deuce wheezes with laughter before rolling off of Ace's body, allowing him to finally get up. His cheeks glow scarlet as his hair as he wipes the snow from his face. His first action as a newly free man is to hastily make a large snowball and hurl it down at Deuce who is still rolling with laughter on the ground.

"Dick!" Ace shouts.

"Why me!?" Deuce scrambles to his feet as Ace prepares another snowball.

"Because I know it was your idea, asshole!" Ace's second snowball misses but that doesn't stop Deuce from taking off running down the hill. "Get back here, coward!"

"Run, Deuce!" You yell as Ace pursues Deuce downwards. Epel's roaring laugh echoes around you as he quickly joins the fray.

"Idiots." You jump at the sudden grumbling voice behind you but then relax when you turn and see it's only Jack. He's clearly fresh off his morning workout, dressed in track pants and a zip-up hoodie. He shakes his head at the raucous boys chasing each other around in circles.

"Aren't you cold?" You inquire. Jack only shrugs.

"Snows a lot in the Shaftlands."

"Right. So you're used to the cold."

"Yeah. That and while you're exercising, your body-" Jack is promptly cut off by a perhaps rogue though perhaps perfectly targeted snowball that nails him directly between the eyes. You suck in a cold breath in preparation for his reaction. First his tail twitches. Then an ear. Then he's barreling down the hill, stooping as he goes to form a projectile of his own. You have only a moment or two to laugh before Grim launches himself out of your arms and you're hit with a snowball in the center of your chest.

"I was aiming for Grim!" But that excuse doesn't stop Deuce from becoming your prime target in the oncoming war. Tragically, he has the good sense to use his sled as a shield against your attacks. But your charming demeanor and winning smile means you have an ally in this battle. A big, wolfy ally. Deuce can't hide for long.

You can't tell of the fight lasts ten minutes or ten hours. All you know is that by the end of it, all six of you - including Grim - are lying on your backs, panting heavily, watching fresh snowflakes drift down from the gray sky. Your hands and your nose are numb from the cold. Some hot chocolate would be heavenly but you're certain the Mostro Lounge has hiked up their prices today. But Scarabia has a wonderful open-door policy, especially when the weather is so cold. You wonder what Kalim is up to.

[innerfare]

Flowers

Summary: what sort of flowers (or alternatives) they give you

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid, Usopp, Robin, Nami

Genre: fluff

——— 

Luffy: Not one to buy you flowers. Instead, he picks them. Sometimes they’re weeds he thought looked pretty, other times, he presents you with a lush bundle of pink carnations you think he must have picked from a commercial flower field (this man has no concept of private property). He’s always very proud to present them because he worked hard to secure them; you'd better give him a kiss for his effort. Has, on occasion, accidentally brought you some that are poisonous. Also once brought you a bundle of radishes because he thought you would like the color. Receiving flowers from Luffy can be a bit like receiving a lizard from your pet cat.

Zoro: He won’t really think to buy you flowers until one day you mention that camellias are pretty. He takes that to mean you like camellias, specifically, and not that you’d like to receive flowers in general, so he always buys you camellias, and you think it’s so sweet that you never correct him. He’s not actually a proponent of apology flowers because he thinks a ‘bribe’ cheapens it, but he will bring you flowers when he knows you’re having a hard day. He might also buy you a small bamboo plant that you two end up treating a bit like a pet, giving it a name and everything. 

Sanji: Classic red roses, at least a dozen at a time. He’ll buy you roses in shades of white and pink, as well as the occasional yellow, but a dozen red roses is his go to. He also makes very good use of the petals. Doesn’t need a special occasion to present you with a bouquet. In fact, he always makes sure you have fresh flowers on your nightstand. Additionally, he’s learned to cook a few dishes with edible flowers in them for you, presenting you with all manner of chamomile, chive blossom, and pansy dishes. 

Usopp: Will buy you cheap supermarket flowers on his way to come visit you and will regale you with a long, fanciful tale of crossing oceans and deserts to secure them from the only spot in the world those particular flowers grow, a tale filled with sweet and funny anecdotes that makes you giggle as you trim the stems and place them in a vase of water. He’ll tell you that the flowers have special powers and properties, such as bringing you luck or living forever so long as you smile every day. 

Robin: Is an expert on hanakotoba, the language of flowers; she read a book on it once and thought it was so sweet and beautiful that she read it cover to cover several more times. She always buys you flowers with a specific meaning and then happily explains that meaning to you. Giving you flowers brightens her day as much as it brightens yours. White anemones (sincerity), daffodils (respect), and forget-me-nots (true love) are some of her favorites to give you. 

Nami: Not a traditional kind of girl. She won’t hesitate to buy you roses if you like them, but she gravitates more toward violets, daisies, and the like, smaller flowers that speak to both of you. She’s also a proponent of buying you a single flower that you can put in your hair, and she has bought you a selection of floral hair accessories so you always have flowers for your hair on hand; her favorite is the primrose crown she bought you. 

Ace: He’ll bring you bouquets with a lot of variety that the nice lady at the flower shop helped him put together. He usually builds these bouquets around sunflowers or orange lilies, and he gets very smug when his flowers brighten your day. He’ll also pick flowers for you, but he’s very conscious to only pick the ones that are not weeds. If he finds a field of sunflowers, you will be getting as many as he can carry. Never, ever visits you empty-handed, always brings at least a bouquet of flowers with him. Treats securing flowers for you like hunting for dinner and is always so proud of his bounty.

Law: Gravitates toward orchids, especially in darker shades of pink, purple, and blue; they feel a little moodier and less kitschy than the red roses Bepo tells him he’s supposed to buy to woo you (side note: imagine Law getting relationship advice from Bepo). One night folded an origami flower for you, and you liked it so much that he spent the rest of the night folding an entire bouquet, though he pretends it only took him five minutes. He doesn’t actually give the origami bouquet to you so much as he just sets it on your nightstand one day and mutters something about how the flowers won’t need water. He gets kind of annoyed if you make a big deal out of it. 

Sabo: He’s gone for very long periods of time, so when he returns, he’ll bring you a bundle of peonies or calla lilies, but he also bought you a cherry blossom bonsai tree so you can have flowers even when he’s away. The bonsai tree ends up becoming his baby, and when he is home, he spends quite a bit of time tending to it, to the point you get a little jealous. But it brings you lots of comfort when he’s away, a symbol of your love that’s firmly rooted and eternal. Side note, he will most definitely use flowers to seduce you. 

Kid: If it’s at the point where he’s buying flowers, this man is so far beyond pride he won’t flinch at purchasing a bundle of pink tulips, even if they clash with his outfit/aesthetic. He also presents you one night with a bouquet of metal flowers he made himself. He spent ages on it, but he really didn’t mean to. He intended to make one but got absorbed in his work and made an entire bundle of dainty little metal flowers. He’s oddly proud of himself for making something so delicate and would be crushed if you ever got rid of them. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[cowpokeomens]

Blood Born

Hi hello! Sorry I disappeared, life has just been happening lately no matter how much I tell it not to. Anyways, below the cut you'll find Noah Sebastian with a mysterious secret doin the nasty bc I'm nothing if not a monster fucker.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, mentions of weapons, dirty nasty p-in-v smut, Noah's monster cock (canon), praise kink, there's some biting too. I think that's everything but I'm really tired so if I missed something, let me know! Enjoy!

________________________________________________________

New Orleans had always been one of Noah’s favorite cities.

He’d been partial to the French, anyway. Liked the way they baked absurd little confections, the way they fucked without remorse- the way they’d put each other’s head on a pike just to get a leg up in court. He’d been fortunate enough to be endowed with a pretty face, and there were few things the French liked more than that. 

Which is where he found himself now, walking through the French Quarter, looking for dinner. There were approximately a million restaurants with old signs beckoning him inside, but Noah had lost a taste for that kind of food long before he stepped foot in this city. 

He smelled you before he saw you. 

It was the off season, if such a thing existed for a city like this. You were bundled up in a jacket, hurrying through the streets. It was chilly, even for this time of year, the wind making its way through your hair to whip in every direction. That must have been what blew your scent his way, the intoxicating scent of jasmine and an uninterrupted heart beat almost making him stiffen up where he stood, across the street from you. He mourned your scent as you ducked into a building, trying to escape the chill. You didn’t reek of alcohol the way most people in this area did- if he had to guess, he’d say you probably hadn’t had anything stronger than a glass of wine tonight. The thought of how that would taste had him darting across the nearly empty street to follow you into the building quickly.

He didn’t get a good meal often. The drunken strangers he usually managed to entice sated him in the way a pint of blueberries would satisfy a black bear. It was hard to find a sober person who would let you bite them, and the ones who did come along were, well, strange to say the least. As if he had any moral high ground. 

The inside of the building was warm, dimly lit. He spotted you immediately, in a far corner by the bar, alone. 

Blessed be to the old gods and the new. He thought to himself. He wouldn’t even have to lure you away from a group. He could easily seduce an individual, but multiples were hard when he was hungry. 

He made his way over to where you sat, sitting around the corner so he could face you, but not be in your personal space. “Whiskey neat, please.” The bartender nodded once, pouring something foul and cheap-smelling into a glass with an ice cube. Noah fought back a grimace at the stench. 

“Oh, come on, Remy, don’t give him the fucking Jack Daniel’s.” A voice called next to him. “If you want to cheap out, do Crown. Who the hell voluntarily drinks Jack?”

Noah slowly turned his head to where you sat, frowning at the bartender, who was rolling his eyes in return. He did remake Noah’s drink though, with something decidedly more palatable. 

As he sat the drink down and walked to another patron, Noah turned to you. “Thank you. I was having a difficult time coping with the thought of that on my palate.”

You flashed him a grin. Briefly, he wondered what it would feel like to breathe again. 

“No worries. Remy likes to give the tourists the bottom shelf shit, but you seem like the sort of guy who knows his whiskey.” You took a small sip of your wine, something deeply red that made Noah shift in his seat ever so slightly. 

He inhaled once. “Grenache?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You know your wines, too. How could you tell?”

He shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “Lucky guess.”

You cocked your head to the side curiously. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I’ve never been here before.” Noah responded, emotionless.

“January is an odd time to visit for someone who’s never been here before.” You prodded further.

Noah couldn’t fight the smirk on his face. “Must you always play with your food?” Jolly had sighed once. “Maybe if I had a better tour guide, I would know that.”

He turns to look at you know, registers every emotion that crosses your face. Your pupils widen noticeably, your back going a little straighter. You were making this too easy for him. 

“You’re in luck, I happen to know a gal.” You’re beaming at him- a sweet, lopsided grin as you take a gulp of your wine and introduce yourself. Noah watches the movement of your throat as you do so, responding with his own name. He takes a moment to drink you in. 

Your jacket is gone now, but you’re still wearing a sweatshirt for a school he’s never heard of (Which, to be fair, is most of them.) Dark jeans cling to your legs where they sway idly from the barstool, your feet not touching the ground. Your hair has been pulled away from your face, but a few wisps escape and kiss the sides of your cheeks. He realizes, almost startled, that you’re beautiful. 

A dignified kind of beautiful, not the otherworldliness that his kind manages. He knows he’s attractive, but it’s the same kind of beauty that humans see in tigers, snakes-  A warning sign, a mark of predation. The kind of beauty you admire from the other side of bullet proof glass. 

You, though- you’re so warm. He can feel your warmth, even from over here. It transcends physicality; Warmth that is visceral, in your eyes and your lips and the scrunch of your nose reacting to the cold. 

“Hey, you okay?” Your soft voice shakes him out of his thoughts. “You looked sad.”

His eyes lock with yours, finding such human concern that if he could have wept, he would. You looked like you cared for people. He had not been cared for in a very long time. 

“Yes, sorry. Zoned out for a second there.” He quickly finished off his drink. “I would love to take you up on that offer, though. It would be nice to see the city from a local’s perspective.”

He was a dirty liar. He knew the earth of this place before the French could even see it from their ships. It was wild then, and wild now- though in different ways. He could see the old wild in the eyes of workers practicing their vaudou and the shadows that lingered at the edge of the swamps surrounding the city. It beckoned, a siren’s call out to the murky depths of the region. Colonizers said they “settled” the territory, but everyone old enough to remember knows that lands like that don’t settle. 

He supposed he was, in some ways, a marriage of those wilds. He remembered the things that lurked in the shadows… and now he was the thing lurking in that same darkness, however many lifetimes later.

“You know,” You interrupted his thoughts again, grabbing your coat in the process, “You get this really old-and-wise look on your face when you zone out. Are you thinking about war crimes, or mac ‘n cheese?”

He smiled despite himself. “Mac ‘n cheese.” 

You blinded him briefly with a smile in return. He knew instantly that he would regret this, but followed you out the bar nonetheless, throwing a bill onto the counter without looking back. 

You walked alongside each other in companionable silence until you spoke up. 

“So, what brings you to the city alone?”

Noah smirked at the ground. You didn’t even try to disguise your inquiries. It was refreshing.

“I was supposed to be visiting friends, but they’re not here anymore.” It wasn’t a lie- not the truth, but certainly not a lie. 

You frowned. “You didn’t think to check that your friends lived here still before you came?” 

Noah shook his head. “I was actually just passing through- decided to stay a few days.”

You nodded, as if his non-answers made any sense. It reminded him of how he would nod at the eloquent words of his elders when he was a child, like pretending he was wiser than he was would somehow allow the wisdom to materialize out of sheer will. A thought occurred to him. “How old are you?”

“Oh, I’m 25.” You responded, turning to cast a glance up at him. “You?”

He found he didn’t want to lie to you. “Older than you.” Was the answer he settled on. 

You snorted, surprising him. He raised an eyebrow in question. 

“Come on man, that’s like, the most ‘Guy Older Than 27’ thing to say.” You rolled your eyes at him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone rolled their eyes at him. 

He grinned anyway, not looking at you. “Fair enough. I am older than 27.”

You gave him a sidelong glance. “Why so cryptic? Scared I’ll send you back to the nursing home you escaped from-”

You were cut off as he crowded you up against a wall, staring down his nose at you, arms on either side of your head. “You’re kind of mouthy, you know that?”

“Then shut me up.” Your words were rushed, like they escaped before you could think them over properly. He hesitated for only a second, then leaned in to kiss you. 

You bloomed like a flower in spring for him, lips parting in a gasp, chest heaving as color rushed to your cheeks. He felt drunk as his tongue traced your lip, hands coming down to grasp your hips. You parted after only a few moments, breath ragged. 

“I live about a block from here.” Your intentions were not lost on him. 

He took a step back, gesturing for you to lead the way. You finished your nighttime stroll soon after, quickly pulling out your keys to unlock your front door.

Noah pauses at the door. Some of the superstitions were all too true. You turn around to face him, framed by the light of your entryway. 

“Well, come in then. It’s cold.” You urge him, holding the door open. He lets out a breath he didn’t need.

He follows you inside to the warm interior. He’s taking in your interior decoration choices when you pounce, pulling him to your mouth. He happily obliges, deepening the kiss and wrapping an arm around your back. He felt your hands come up to his chest, pushing him away. 

“Did you want to stop-” He began, until you interrupted him. 

“No, but thanks. I’m just trying to get us to a flat surface that isn’t my hardwood floors.” You gave him a sly smile, taking him by the hand and tugging him through the house. 

His eyes could see in pitch black, but he was still thoroughly impressed by how you could navigate in the dim light. You must have lived here for a while.

You flung open a door with ease, still pulling him behind you. He could see the bed as you shoved him onto it, crawling on top of him. He was grinning as you leaned in to kiss him again-

Then you stopped. 

He suddenly realized, not reacting quickly enough as you scrambled off him and flipped on the lights.

“Your teeth-” You began, then froze as you took in the sight of him. He already knew what you were seeing. Blood vessels protruding around his eyes. His irises, sclera- blown pitch black. Cold skin even paler than usual. He could feel them now, behind his lips-

Fangs. 

“What the fuck is going on?” You were too calm, given the circumstances, given your words. 

Noah could only imagine the look on his face; Shame, embarrassment, regret. “I’ll go-”

“No no no, nuh-uh. You’re going to stay right there and explain what’s going on or I’ll scream bloody murder and Mr. Joe will come over with his 42 and we’ll have real problems.”

Noah stilled, though probably not for the reason you were wanting. “I’m sorry, did you just threaten to shoot me? I grew teeth, I’m a big scary monster, you can’t just shoot-”

“Yes I can! And I will! I’m crazy! I’m not scared of sexy scary monsters, I’m from backwoods Louisiana, pal! I’ve been hunting! I-”

“You think I’m sexy?” Noah could feel his eyes returning to normal as he grinned at you.

“Shut up.” Your voice cracked, betraying you.

Noah stood up, cocking his head to the side. His fangs were retracting now, disappearing from view. He gave you a long look. 

You looked pissed, which was new. He was more accustomed to fear, knew how to respond to it, soothe it. You had a glint in your eye that looked different from just anger, almost like-

Betrayal. The earth whispered to him. 

He took a deep breath. He could still smell arousal on you. “I’m sorry, this wasn’t… how I wanted this to go.”

“Then how did you want it to go?” You threw back at him. 

“I- I don’t know! I thought we could hook up and then I’d leave when you fell asleep and I’d find some rando on the way home and-” He stopped short, unsure of how to continue.

“And what?” You prodded, sounding fearful for the first time that evening. Good. You should be scared. He was a monster- an old one. For all you knew he ate virgins and burned down villages. 

He looked down, unable to meet your eyes. “And… drink their blood.”

You exhaled, long. “You kill people to eat?”

His neck snapped up at you. “No, no! Oh my god, no. Just a nibble and I’m on my way-” He stopped at the giggle you let out. “Excuse me?”

“It’s just,” You straightened your face. “You eat people and refer to it as a ‘nibble?’”

“I don’t eat people.” He deadpanned, giving you a look. 

“You just drink their blood.”

“Right.”

You both stared at each other for a long moment. 

“So why-” You began.

Noah motioned for you to continue. 

You blinked. “Why the fangs, then? If you weren’t going to… y’know.” You averted your gaze.

A movement Noah quickly mirrored. “Oh, um. It’s like- an arousal thing. Pretty girl kisses me, fangs pop out.”

You were looking at him again. “You think I’m pretty?”

He met your eyes. “Yeah. Prettiest thing I’ve seen so far, and I’ve been around for a while.”

You took a slow step towards him. “How often do you eat?”

“Um, once a week, if it’s good. Maybe twice if it’s not.” He responded automatically, trying not to think about how bizarre this conversation was.

Your head tilted slightly. Another step. “How long has it been? Since you’ve… fed?”

He was watching you carefully now. Then, very quietly, he said “Two weeks.”

Something like concern flooded your eyes, and you almost winced at him. “That’s a long time to be hungry.”

He could see your jugular on your neck, pulsating with life. He said nothing in response. 

You took another step. “Would it help if you… fed on me?”

He looked at you sharply, processing your words in seconds. “No.”

“Why not?” You countered, cocking a brow.

Why not? The earth whispered at him again, voice a caress in his ear. He could smell you- Alive, fresh and-

Fertile. The familiar voice supplied. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. I’m not going to tell her she smells fertile, he retorted. 

“You can’t think of a good reason.” You assumed, staring almost directly into his silence. 

“I could hurt you.” He supplied helplessly.

“And that’s worse than hurting someone else?” 

He tried again. “No- it’s not, but-” A deep breath, “I can’t stand the thought of hurting you.”

You placed a hand on his arm, too warm and too close. “Then I’ll just hurt you back.” You were so close to him, when did you get this close- “You look awfully hungry, Noah.” You murmured, looking up at him through your lashes.

It was impossible for him to misread your body language as his hands came up to grip your hips, tugging you closer to him. He could feel your nipples hardening where your bodies met. 

“You can tell me to stop, okay? Whenever you want, just say the word and we’ll stop.” He was panting now, salivating in anticipation as his canines slid back out. 

You nodded. “I’ll let you know if anything changes.” Then you kissed him again, sliding your tongue over his fangs in a move that made him outright moan into your mouth. He scooped you up in what was obviously a feat of superhuman strength, chucking you onto the bed. 

He made quick work of your clothes, pulling your shirt over your head in a swift movement that had him pausing to stare. “Blessed be to the old gods and the new.” He breathed, taking in your pert nipples, breasts swaying at his hasty movements. He leaned in, running his tongue from your sternum, up through your breasts, stopping only at your neck. “Do you taste as good as you look, love?”

Your cheeks reddened. “Let’s hope so.” 

He grinned, a wicked, awful thing, tugging on your pants until they slid off, leaving you in just your underwear. “Wanna see a trick?” 

You did not want to see a trick, you decided as your body betrayed you and nodded anyway. 

He came down to eye-level with your mound, slowly and carefully hooking a single fang on the fabric, sliding it directly through your panties until they were completely torn open. 

You gaped, unable to form words. 

“Sorry, those were cute. I’ll make it up to you.” Noah promised as he spread your legs open for him. 

You felt exposed, vulnerable. Your entire body went red as he watched you. He ran a finger up your slit, making your entire body shudder. “Oh? Baby likes that?”

You nodded, blinking rapidly. Noah swatted your inner thigh, not enough to hurt, but enough to get your attention. “Use your words.”

Your cheeks grew even pinker. “Y-yes, I liked it.”

He leaned down, caging you in. “Want me to fuck you?” 

“Please.” You whispered. His eyes went pitch black again. 

“Good girl, already knows to beg.” He backed off of you, tugging off his turtleneck sweater, revealing a fully tattooed torso. Your mouth went dry at the sight. “Again.” He demanded.

“Please.” You obeyed, still barely above a whisper. 

“Prettier.” He demanded again, unbuckling his pants.

“P-please, Noah, please-”

“Almost there.” His pants hit the floor, revealing a pair of equally as inked legs.

“Please, I’ll be so good, Noah, please, let me be good-”

“That’s a good girl, good job. C’mere.” He sat back down on the bed, the outline of his cock clearly visible in his briefs. You wanted to feel, to taste.

You obliged his command, crawling over to straddle his lap. 

“Here’s how this is gonna go, pretty thing.” He began, sliding a finger inside of you as he did so. You gasped, latching onto his shoulder for support. “I’m going to get you nice and loose, then you’re going to ride me, like this. Understand?”

“Yes sir.” You stammered as he added another finger. 

“Ooh, nice manners.” He praised, dropped a kiss to your jaw. You shivered at his touch. “When you feel like you’re close, you’re going to tell me, and then I’m going to bite right-” he rubbed a small line on the side of your neck- “Here. Does that sound okay?”

You nodded, then remembered to say “Yes, yes, sounds wonderful, sounds amazing, Noah fuck me please-”

He chuckled quietly, lifting you up ever so slightly to align himself where he had pulled down is briefs. “You ready?”

“Noah I swear to whatever gods, old and new- fuck.” Your rampage broke off into a moan as he slid himself into you. His thrusts were short at first, letting you adjust, until you finally sank all the way down. 

You were panting when you finally bottomed out. “Big- ‘S so big.” You whined, clenching and unclenching on him involuntarily.

Noah’s breaths were equally as ragged. His hands had come to rest on your hips, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on them. “Whenever you’re ready.” He placed another kiss on your forehead. 

You waited another few seconds, then pulled up experimentally. The drag of him inside you had a long moan escaping your throat. You dropped down, gasping, rising up again. You repeated this until you were riding him in earnest, moans and gasps escaping you both. 

You didn’t know how Noah was managing to hit that bundle of nerves inside of you every time you sank down, but he was. You draped your arms on his shoulders, leaning in to kiss him deeply, fangs tugging on your lip ever so slightly. “You look so good riding my cock baby, look so good with a big cock in you, like you were made for this-” Noah’s profane train of thought continued on until it was white noise in your ears. You registered that your thighs were shaking from the effort, but you couldn’t stop, not when you were so close-

“Close.” You panted. “Fuck, Noah, I’m so close, so close-”

He pulled your hair to the side quickly, teeth lining up with your throat.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum-” 

The world went white as Noah sank his fangs into your throat and you came, release squirting all over the both of you as your body shook. 

You panted as he sucked at your throat, eyes fluttering shut. One of his hands was rubbing at your back, the other snaked around your waist. You stayed like that for a few minutes more, until you almost felt light-headed and he released you with a soft “pop.” 

You blinked at him sleepily as he laid you down against your pillow. He stood up, tugging up his boxers and turning to walk away. “Are you leaving?” You slurred, sounding sad even to yourself.

You could hear his little laugh. “No, I’m getting you a snack and some water. I know I’m dreamy, but I can’t have the ladies passing out on me.”

You rolled your eyes as he disappeared, faint clattering alerting you of when he found the kitchen. 

When he returned, you were more alert, taking the water and gulping it down. You took a second to look at him. 

He was beautiful before, but now- wow.

His hair was silky, skin still pale but not so lifeless. His eyes were richly dark, amusement seeming to dance in them. “Y’know,” You began, “You’re really pretty when you’re not starving to death.”

If he could have blushed, he might have. “Back at you.” Was his response, handing you crackers.

You nibbled on them while he went about dressing himself. “You’re not staying?” You did your best to not sound disappointed. 

Noah shot you a smile. “Sadly, no. I have to get back to my hiding hole before the sun comes up.”

You nodded, looking down. “Will I get to see you again?”

“I have a feeling you’ll be seeing entirely too much of me.” Noah responded, sounding amused. 

“What makes you say that?” You questioned, confusion written on your face. 

“Because you broke the cardinal sin of running around with a vampire.” Noah grinned, looking devious. “You invited me in.”

[haikyu-mp4]

Newlywed chaos

“Did you hear about Akagi? He married his co-worker! But you didn't hear that from me!” – @peachyroro for my Gossip Event.

word count; 314 – f!reader

On the first day back to work after your honeymoon, Michinari’s ties were still messily bundled into his drawer and your three most used pairs of pants were still in the hamper. You were hit with hurricane get-ready-for-work.

It was pure chaos, you trying to find a clean pair of pants and running around in just your panties and a blouse, while Michinari stood in the bathroom with your hair straightener to try and iron his tie, totally ignoring the fact that his hair looked like it could double as a bird’s nest.

At some point, about eight minutes later than planned, the two of you hurried out the door, only to run back because a) you walked out in your house slippers and b) Michinari forgot to put a jacket on. Maybe you had honeymooned a bit too hard.

As you separated at the school entrance, he headed up the stairs to the third-year wing while you took the short walk to the first-year wing, and the refreshing smell of sweat and cheap perfume welcomed you back to work.

The first day was tough. You were so used to relaxing and seeing your husband all the time now that you forgot the tough life of teaching high school students. The new first-years were especially rowdy, and you taught one of the classes that were typically expected to get lower grades, so the number of groans in math class wasn’t exactly encouraging.

But a small motivation came in the shape of your husband, who just happened to pass by as you headed to the break room and smiled brightly. “Mrs. Akagi,” he greeted you, making numerous students stop and whisper to each other.

“Mr. Akagi,” you responded, tipping your head politely and giving him a subtle wink. You’d sort out your everyday lives eventually, but right now you’d enjoy the thrill of being newlyweds.

masterlist

/thank you to @cottonlemonade because I could not have worked this one out without her and it was pretty much all her amazing idea<3 this was the last request from my gossip event, thank you all so much for sending in requests and/or reading my fics!!

[jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka]

Lovely Lady May

Happy Sunday everyone! Shout out to the anon who asked for this, sorry it took me so long I am terrible at writing endings… Hope you enjoy!

Pairings: Danny Wagner X fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ only!! Minors you don’t even want to look this direction. Breeding kink, unprotected p in v sex, fingering, oral (fem rec), lotsa dirty talk, food play, some persuasion if you see it that way, some plot, little editing

Word count: 6k

Danny Wagner. You’d had your eye on him for quite some time. He was perfect; thick head of hair, broad and sturdy frame, good facial bone structure. Yeah, he would do. Once you had decided it was him all that was left was to figure out how to approach him, win over his favor, get him to agree to what you wanted.

You knew Danny Wagner, had known him for years much like everyone knew everybody in this tiny Midwest town you’d all grown up in. He was a funny kid in high school, you never paid him much attention though admittedly you often had too much preoccupying your time back then.

In present time much of that distraction was gone. The youth did tend to leave this town while they could, leaving behind only those who had nowhere else to go and nothing else to do but stay home and find work. That’s exactly what you had done, in the years after high school you had opened a bakery in the tiny square downtown where all the wandering tourists from the next town over stopped for some gas along the way or found a cheaper place to stay.

Rent in town was cheap, that’s how you’d managed to secure your loft just above the bakery. It was small, quaint, but you had spent the last six years happily alone here making it your home. Happily that was until about a year ago when you decided that all you had in life just wasn’t enough anymore.

It started with seeing old friends finally coming back to visit family after settling down. Most of them had gotten married, and more than a few were already having kids.

It was the holiday season and you were up to your elbows in flour and sugar, scrambling to get all your orders done while also keeping the bakery itself stocked for the walk-in customers. Your high school best friend was in town, you’d almost forgotten until she walked through the door of the shop, one arm pushing the heavy glass door open while the other cradled a small bundle.

She had a baby, not even six weeks old yet, still wrinkly and warm and smelling like the sweet treats you made day in and day out. You spent the next three days visiting with her while she was in town, each time immediately plucking the babe from where it slept and placing it right in your arms. That’s when the baby fever started.

You thought it would go away, wanting a baby wasn’t exactly in the cards for you right now considering your last relationship ended the summer after senior year. As the months passed on though, you found yourself staring longingly at each little child that walked into your shop, eyes round and wide with excitement as they peered through the display cases of cookies and cakes.

It had only been a couple of months since you actually decided on going through with your plan. In fact you nearly considered forgetting it all together until you found the right person for the job.

Danny Wagner. He never left town either, opting to stay home and help his family with their business. An apple orchard right at the edge of the city limits.

You knew the place well since opening your shop, preferring to purchase local, organic, ingredients whenever you could.

At this time of year, weekly with the orders you placed from the orchard, your crates of freshly picked apples in their vibrant green, shades of red and orange, and yellows came delivered by Danny.

“A slice of apple pie today?” You called from over your shoulder as you transferred the dozen of honeycrips from their wooden crate to the large stainless sink in the back of the bakery to be washed and prepped later.

“If you’re offering” Danny replied with a smile on his face, a smile you’d grown quite accustomed to seeing when you started giving out a slice of apple pie after every delivery. It only seemed fair he got a piece considering it was his apples you used, and they really did make a difference.

With the crate cleared you pulled the wash towel from your apron and gave your hands a good drying before untying the cotton cloth from around your waist and setting it aside. “Do you have a minute?”

“Umm sure” Danny set the extra boxes of things you’d ordered on the counter next to your apron, curious about what you had in mind.

“I’m actually tweaking the recipe a little bit. Was wondering if you wanted to come upstairs and try it out for me?” You voice sounded calm and resolved, but you hoped Danny couldn’t see the slight tremble in your hands as you waved him over to the unassuming stairs that lead directly up to your loft.

Danny followed quietly, he had obviously never been up here before so he was busy taking in the surroundings when you reached the top. It gave you a bit of relief that he wasn’t paying too much attention to how you anxiously fluttered around the small kitchenette.

“I never realized you lived up here” Danny mentioned as his eyes scanned the open space, the only privacy it offered was a door to your bedroom and a door to the bathroom, everything else was right in sight from where he sat.

“What? You thought I could afford a business and my own place all on my own?” You joked. That was the normal atmosphere between you two, a lot of joking, a little flirting maybe if you squinted, but mostly just kindness.

“Well I’d say you’re doing pretty well for yourself regardless” Danny replied, finally turning his attention to you alone when he heard the sound of a knife cutting against a porcelain pie dish.

“Thanks”. You set the plate down in front of him, letting your hand brush across the top of his shoulders as you went back for the fork, waiting patiently as he took the first bite.

“Wow, if I didn’t already think you made the best damn apple pies I’ve ever had in my life, I sure do now”. He tried another larger taste, turning the fork sideways to slide through the flakey crust and scoop some of the filling into the perfect bite. A look of pure satisfaction washed over his face as he chewed. No matter how often he had your pies he did always seem to really enjoy them and it always made your day.

“So Danny…” you trailed off, trying to maintain your resolve to your goal as he continued on eating. “You would say we’re friends right?”

“Of course” he quickly replied after swallowing.

“So I can ask you something in confidence? Well, it’s a favor really”.

The corner of his mouth pulled up into a charming half smile, one that made you swoon just a little if you were completely honest with yourself. That was besides the point though, you had him here right where you wanted him and now you needed to focus. “Have you ever thought about having kids?”

Danny’s smile faded, though he didn’t seem upset, just curious again about where exactly this was going. “Sure, I have a little” he answered truthfully, adding more after a bit of consideration “I do want some, yeah”.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently” you admit, leaning against the counter so your still unsteady hands would have something to grip onto. You knew this was a big ask and it could go over very badly, but you had to try. “I want one, sooner rather than later. Problem is I’ve looked into IVF, it’s hella expensive and I don’t know if you know but owning a business doesn’t come with very good health insurance”.

It had all made sense in your head when you planned it out, finding a man to ask to be willing to make a baby with you, but when you tried to explain your thoughts out loud they started to sound less and less rational. Still, you pursued since you seemed to have kept his attention for this long. “I’ve been saving up for almost a year, and I have a friend that’s going to give her used baby stuff to me. All I need is someone willing to help me out…”

Danny was quiet again, his eyes falling to the crumbs on his plate for a moment as he thought. “Are you saying you want me to get you pregnant?”

You pressed your thighs together as you clenched around nothing. It wasn’t besides either of you exactly how that would have to come about, but even though the sex would be purely transactional it didn’t help that you’d come to find Danny extremely attractive and the way he spoke was already doing things to you that you weren’t prepared for.

“Yes, that is what I’m asking”. It was getting harder and harder to sound confident, your nerves finally taking completely over as you scrambled to plead your case. “I wouldn’t expect anything from you obviously. I’ll have plenty of support from my family and I’m looking at getting a bigger place soon. No one will ever have to know you’re the biological father”.

Danny stood slowly and your heart sank, expecting he was preparing to leave because your idea was actually crazy. Instead he only stood there, his height exceeding yours by a few inches but the way he awkwardly slouched a little and rubbed at his bare upper arms made him seem less intimidating and more approachable.

You took the step forward, reaching out for one of his hands to cradle in your own, a simple touch you hoped would show him how grateful you were for his consideration. “You don’t have to give me an answer now, but would you think about it? For me?”

With the closer distance between you two now you could see the way Danny’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out. His eyes fell down your body for a moment as a shuddering breath escaped him. “When,” he began, shaking his head softly and bringing his gaze back up to meet yours dead on, “when do you want to try this?”

Your heart felt like it stopped, was he seriously agreeing? Danny was always a nice guy, a people pleaser, a hard worker, and an all around joy, but even then a part of you still expected him to at least politely decline.

“I’m ovulating right now actually” you blurted out. Yeah, that was a real mood setter.

Danny chuckled, the sweet sound jumpstarting your drive. “Right now?” His dark brows raised in playful question, his hand in yours turning over to sneak up your arm and pull you closer. “Are there any rules in this agreement?”

“Rules?” You mumbled, the feeling of his fingers gripping into your waist making your knees already feel weak.

“I mean is this just a one time thing and if it works it works, if it doesn’t it doesn’t? I’m not going to stand here and lie to you by saying I haven’t thought about being with you like this”. Danny seemed a little shy to admit his secret, but it only ignited a fire in the pit of your stomach. “I mean maybe not exactly like this, but you know what I mean”.

“Really?” You breathed, allowing your hands now to come up and rest on his shoulders, playing with the torn up hem of his cut off sleeves. “I never knew”.

“Well now you do” he smiled again, dipping his head down so that the very tip of his nose brushed against your cheekbone. Your eyes fluttered closed, preparing for the kiss you expected, but Danny only moved to whisper into your ear. “So I ask again, are there any rules?”

You thought about it for a moment, coming up with something on the spot since, surprisingly, you’d seemed to have thought of everything else but this. “For now this stays between us, we act perfectly casual around each other”. Danny nodded, finally pressing a warm plush lipped kiss to the spot behind your ear. You tilted your head back, giving him more access to roam across your neck. “While we’re doing this, no one else”.

“There is no one else” Danny mumbled against your pulse point, his other hand coming up to thread his fingers through your hair.

“Good. And most importantly, no pulling out”.

In one swift blurry motion, Danny grabbed you by the hips and lifted you up, walking back to the counter where he plopped you back down and immediately connected his lips to yours. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer as you kissed him back hungrily and desperately.

“Did you wear this for me then?” Danny asked as he slipped a hand between your bodies, sliding his palm up your inner thigh and underneath the hem of your floral dress. You nodded, biting your bottom lip as you leaned back to watch him explore.

“Easy access” he grinned as the tips of his fingers found the lace trim of your panties, and you gasped when he suddenly pressed his thumb to your heat, smirking at how wet you already were.

“Danny” you whined at how delicious the friction was even with the thin layer of cotton still in the way. “Are you going to play with me or are you going to give me what I want?”

“Oh I’m going to play with you” he chuckled again, his fingers pulling your panties aside to gather up your slick. “If we’re going to do this it might as well be fun right?”

Your brows furrowed, on one hand you wanted him to take this seriously. Having a baby was all you wanted right now and you were clearly prepared to do whatever it took. On the other hand, you thought he was right. You were sure you had read somewhere that the better the quality of the sex was, the higher the chances of conception were. So what was the harm?

With Danny still smirking at you as he circled his fingers around everywhere but where you really wanted him, you grabbed a fist full of his shirt and pulled him back into a searing kiss. Danny groaned against your mouth and finally plunged two of his fingers inside, making your mouth fall open with a moan at the unexpected stretch.

“Yeah? That feel good?” Danny questioned in a faintly demeaning tone that made your brain go fuzzy for a few seconds.

You held onto his bicep tightly, the shiny polish coincidentally named ‘apple red’ on your nails contrasting with the way his skin turned pearly white under your grip. “Fuck, yeah that does feel good” you agreed with the breath in your lungs slipping away with each thrust of his fingers deeper into you. “But I bet you’d feel even better”.

“Patience sweetheart” Danny smiled, slowing his movements to give you room to breathe. “In time. But first…” he glanced around the counter you were still spread out on, his eyes zeroing in on a bowl covered in plastic wrap right within reach.

One hand with his fingers still buried deep inside you, Danny pulled the bowl closer to look at what was inside. “Is this the new recipe?” He questioned, seeing the thick caramel colored filling.

It was ridiculous he was concerned with that at this moment, but you played along anyway, taking the break to regain your composure so that you could continue to rival his attitude. “It is, did you like it? Though I have to admit it was mostly part of the plot to get you up here”

“Figured” Danny chuckled, shaking his head again. “I did, but do you mind if I ruin this batch?”

“What?” You were confused, not following his train of thought at all. “No, I don’t mind?”

Without another word he retreated his fingers only to lift the plastic off the bowl and dip inside. The look of pure shock you had on your face when he licked his fingers clean of both the pie filling and your juices mixed together had to be entertaining, because he chuckled even harder and leaned in to give you a taste.

While he kissed you, tongue lapping into your mouth, Danny found the buttons to the front of your dress and slowly undid them one by one, allowing the flowy fabric to slip open and expose your chest. “No bra? You’re making this too easy”.

“You prefer a challenge?” You giggled in return.

“No, this is good”. Danny leaned back, admiring your tits from a little distance before sticking his fingers back into the bowl beside you and smearing some of the filling onto your left nipple.

When his mouth connected with your chest you grabbed at his hair. Before you had always wondered how soft it would be, and now with your fingers weaving tightly through dense curls you were glad to say it was indeed very soft and smelled woodsy-sweet.

Once he had you nice and clean, your nipple now perky and covered in a sheen of saliva, Danny lathered up the right side with enough filling this time that it was dripping down your breast and onto your stomach. Danny held eye contact with you as he lowered himself, his tongue coming out to lick up the mess he’d made and then latched onto your nipple again, humming in satisfaction as it hardened up just as the other had.

Content with getting you cleaned off again, Danny lowered himself even further until he was on his knees before you, his hands diving back up your dress to find the waistband of your panties so that he could pull them off this time.

You braced yourself on your hands against the countertop and lifted your hips slightly to help, but before you could fully sit back down Danny wrapped his hand around your hip and pulled you right to the very edge. For extra support he let your legs come to rest on his shoulders, his face disappearing between your thighs as his mouth met your center.

Your back arched and your head met the cabinets with a dull thud as you held your moan in this time. Just like with his fingers, Danny didn’t waste any time in letting his tongue enter you, it’s pointed tip reaching as far as it could go. His nose pressed against the hood of your clit and you couldn’t help the groan that did come out when he started to shake his head side to side.

“Danny you’re gonna make me cum like that” you whined, sure that he could feel the way your legs started to shake and threatened to clamp shut around him.

Danny spoke quickly so that he wasn’t parted from you long enough to lose how close you were to your high. “Give it to me. I want to taste how sweet you are before I fill you up”.

“Ah fuck!” you cried out just as the band that had been tightening in the pit of your stomach snapped. You were unsure what had ultimately done it, the way he worked harder to get you there, or the salacious words spilled so freely from his dirty mouth. Either way your mind was still spinning with the after effects of your orgasm when he stood up and started unbuttoning his pants.

“Are you ready for me then?” He asked as you watched him through hooded eyes while he pulled himself from his boxers, stroking his hardened length a few times to smear his precum- not that he needed the extra lubricant, you were dripping at this point.

“Get over here and give it to me already”.

Danny clicked his tongue, but he moved back between your legs anyways, using the grip on his shaft to run the tip of his cock through your slick folds. “Still impatient. I’ll put a baby in you sweetheart don’t you worry”.

Before you could say anything else to counter his cheeky remark, Danny thrust his hips up into you until his base met your entrance. You thought you might have cum again just then by how wet you were around him, but you knew it was only because he turned you on more than you’d ever been before.

“God! Right there!” You threw one arm around his shoulders, your legs hooking back around his waist as his hips snapped back and forth knocking you against the cabinets. It was a good thing you’d flipped the sign in the window downstairs from ‘open’ to ‘closed’ when Danny arrived today, otherwise you were sure any customers who had stumbled in at this time would’ve heard you getting your world rocked above them.

“It’s gonna feel so good to cum in you” Danny groaned. You were unsure if he was still speaking to you, or if he was just rambling on to himself now by the way his voice came out breathy and strained. He had hands on your thighs, using his grip as leverage to keep his upwards thrusts just hard enough that you were seeing stars as you closed your eyes and let your head fall back.

Before long you were feeling like you were going to let go again, and he could feel the way your walls fluttered and clenched around him. Danny came first, slamming into you once more and then you felt the flood of warmth, the wild twitching of his length buried deep inside as he unloaded in you just like you’d asked.

“Hold on, let me look at you”. Danny hooked his thumbs under your dress and bunched it up at your waist then leaned back as he slowly began to slide out, still hard and throbbing. He watched in awe as his release started to dribble down, a sight he’d never had the pleasure of seeing before.

“Danny” you whimpered, still wound up from being so close to cumming yourself again.

He knew exactly what you wanted, and he could have teased you about it, but he wanted to make sure you were taken care of. Pushing in again, he fucked his cum back into you a few times until you were shaking as your second orgasm rocked through you.

“How are you doing?” The kindness in Danny’s voice returned and he helped tuck your tousled hair behind your ears as he kissed gently at your cheeks.

“Good…” you sighed, your body starting to relax again, “I’m doing good, thanks”.

“So do you think it’s gonna work?”

You thought maybe you could hear a bit of hopefulness, but you shook it off as your own will manifesting. “I guess we will find out in a couple of weeks”.

“You’ll let me know?” He was genuine when he asked, almost like he was afraid you’d choose to go through this alone even though you’d assured him you’d have plenty help.

“Sure” you nod your head and he helped you off the counter before retrieving your underwear from the floor. You didn’t even bother putting them back on, a shower was definitely within order before getting back to work.

“Well, see you around then?” He lingered by the door to the stairs, glancing around your apartment a few more times.

“Yeah Danny, I’ll see you around”. You held the door open for him, confident he could make his way back down to the large kitchen at the back of the bakery and out the way he always came in. “Again, thank you”.

He offered one last smile that warmed your heart to the core, “don’t mention it”.

Three days passed and you went about your life like normal. Of course you wanted to believe that it had worked, that you were cooking up your own little bun in the oven as you loaded trays of cookies into the ones at the shop.

Danny was always around, he made deliveries in town nearly everyday, usually always about noon, but today it was nearly six in the evening when the bell to the front door rang. You turned around, your face lighting up when you saw it was Danny paying you a visit.

“Closing soon?” He asked as he watched you cleaning up, broom in hand and a damp rag around your shoulder with glass cleaner stuffed in your pocket.

“In a little while. What can I do for you?” You set the broom aside, but finished buffing off the tiny fingerprints on the display case, smiling at the memory of the little boy who had excitedly picked out a chocolate muffin. If you had a boy would he like chocolate as much as this little one had? Or maybe a girl who liked strawberry.

“My dad said you hadn’t placed an order for next week yet. He wanted to know if he needed to set anything aside for you”.

“Oh, right”. A part of you had wished Danny was stopping by specifically to check in on you, but even if he was just here on business it was nice to see him. “Sorry, I’ve had a lot on my mind recently. Let me go check in the back, I’m sure I can make a list right quick”.

Danny had shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling a little out of place in your shop now even though he’d been here half a million times over the last few years.

You sensed his trepidation and exhaled through your nose. “Hey, I made some lemonade this morning. Want some?”

A bit of his awkwardness subsided, his charmful half smile returning as he followed you into the bakery kitchen. You finished off the picture of lemonade with two glasses, one for you and one for him, and started the search through your cabinets. Honestly you really already knew what you needed to order, same as usual a dozen of honeycrisps, a dozen granny smith, a dozen gala, two pounds of walnuts, peaches and blackberries were about to be done for the season so you’d get whatever you could, and it was about to be that time of year to start harvesting some beautiful pumpkin for bread and pie and even roasted seeds. Even so you fiddled around just to keep Danny here for a bit longer, at least so he could enjoy his refreshment.

“How have things been up there at the orchard?” You asked, trying to make polite conversation as you took out a pen and paper and scribbled your order.

“Busy as always, weathers been beautiful this week though so I can’t complain much”. He took another sip of his lemonade. Looked like maybe he was trying to make it last as well.

We’re talking about the weather… you shook your head and he raised a questioning brow. “Actually,” Danny moved closer to where you stood, glancing at your paper like he hadn’t delivered that order to you plenty of times and had it practically memorized. “I wanted to ask if maybe you wanted to come over for dinner?”

“Dinner at the orchard? Like with your parents or something” you scoffed a little. You ask a man to creampie you one time and he wants to take you home to mom and dad.

“I mean we can invite them if you want” he chuckled himself, “but umm, no I was thinking it would just be us. I live in a townhouse not far away. Then maybe afterwards I can give you a little tour of the place”.

Danny’s hand boldly graced your lower back as he leaned in closer, his chest nearly making context with your shoulders. “To tell you the truth, I’ve been thinking about you nonstop”.

“Thinking about me? Or about our last visit?” You countered, arching your back so that your ass pressed up against his front.

“Both” he sucked in a breath, his hand coming around to grip your hip, but he didn’t pull you any closer, just dug his fingers into the waistband of your skirt. How convenient you’d planned on wearing it today without even knowing he’d be stopping by.

“Well, I’ve got another half an hour before closing. I suppose I can meet you there”. Danny had agreed to your favor, the least you could do was accept a dinner invitation.

Danny lowered his head and placed a kiss at the nape of your neck before taking a step back and composing himself. “I don’t mind waiting”.

“Suit yourself” you shrugged, tearing the page you had written on out of your notebook and folding it in half a few times. You turned around and approached him yourself and he looked excitedly expecting as you came chest to chest with him. “You’re going to help me close up then”.

Reaching around you stuffed the list into his back pocket then placed a chaste kiss to his cheek before returning to cleaning up.

With your belly full of dinner you stepped out of Danny’s truck, the kitten heel of your shoe coming into contact with gravel that broke way to lush grass as far as the eye could see becoming covered in a layer of leaves with the beginnings of the changing season. The air smelled crisp out here, earthy and sweet just like Danny’s beautiful curls.

You tried not to think of that now as he delightedly took your hand, guiding you off into the rows of apple trees that the property had earned its namesake for.

Danny whisked you around the place he’d called home his entire life, explaining to you exactly how growing apple trees worked, the science behind it, and even shared a few stories that had you giggling and taking his hand for more.

“Thanks for coming” he finished his tour with a walk through the barn that held all their order packing supplies. Crates that were easily recognizable as the ones Danny carried over his shoulder from his truck bed to your shop door, and piles of straw to stuff them with to keep the apples from bruising. A large table next to boxes stacked on boxes of mason jars ready to be filled and sent off to their eager recipients.

“Thanks for inviting me” you replied, moving to rest against the table. It was still early in the night, but you’d been up since six baking away before the shop opened, and you’d definitely worn the wrong shoes for this excursion. “Can I tell you something?”

“Always” Danny replied, keeping his distance for now, but staring longingly at you from across the open room.

“I’ve been thinking about you too. I quite enjoyed the last time I saw you”. The lights that were strung up in the pillars reflected in his eyes and you could’ve sworn you saw blush pinken his cheeks.

“That so?” He smirked, pushing off the pillar he had chosen to lean on.

“Was it not obvious?” You added, smiling as he made his way over to you again. “I mean I wasn’t sure what I was expecting when I asked you for that, but you definitely delivered”.

“So,” He was right in front of you now, his eyes scanning over the length of your body as you tried to take some weight off your feet, “I know it’s only been a few days, but do you feel any different?”

You giggled, finding it cute that he wanted to know already. He seemed even more restless than you were to know if the fruits of your labor had produced. “No, nothing yet”.

“Well, maybe, if you want I mean, we could try again? For good measure?”

“Yeah?” You raised your brows and bit your lip, looking around to see if there was anything you should be weary of in the quiet barn. “Right now?” You matched the state of surprise he had when you’d asked him the same thing up in your apartment a few days ago.

“Everyone’s gone home for the night. The only thing left to worry about is how I’m going to focus at work when I remember fucking you on this table”.

“You’ll have to fuck me on this table first for that to happen Danny”.

He breached the last gap between you, cupping your face as your lips smashed together. Both of your hands went to work riding each other of as much clothing as possible, breaking the kiss only for your shirts to be peeled off and tossed somewhere to be retrieved later. Danny pulled you from your lounging position, hooking his thumbs into your skirt and panties together and pulling them down for you to step out of before lifting you back onto the table and connecting your mouths again.

You groaned as he worked to unbutton his pants, already aching to feel him inside you again. Danny parted from you to get his pants off, and when he returned he gripped your breasts, actually covered with a thin lacy bra this time, and pushed you back to lay against the polished wood.

“You’re going to be beautiful pregnant” Danny mused as he pressed kisses to your clavicle and chest.

“Danny please” you whined, reaching around to grab at his bottom, digging your blunt nails into the round of his asscheek.

“You want me to cum in you again?” He muttered against your neck, making his way up to tickle your ear with his nose and nip at your jaw. “Make sure you have my baby, hmm?”

You pulled him down, connecting your lips to his shoulder and then biting down to encourage him to hurry up already. When he entered you again the moan that ripped through you was muffled into his skin, but his voice echoed through the rafters as he quickly set a rough pace.

Danny pried your arms from him so that he could straighten up and get a good look at you from the way your tits bounced in time with his thrusts, to the way he disappeared so easily completely inside you. “Look at this pretty pussy, crying so sweetly for me”.

Your words were beside you, lost in a jumble in your head as the pleasure took over, but you held eye contact with him and nodded vigorously. Danny slowed for just a moment, spitting into his hand and easily finding your swollen sensitive clit with his fingers.

Your back arched off the table and you couldn’t hold back your cries anymore as Danny continued pounding into you and working his fingers at the same time. So close already, but it felt like long enough since the last time you’d had him.

With a newfound burst of energy, you gripped your chest, pinching your hardened nipples through the lace of your bra as your eyes fell shut and you felt your impending release building tight in your stomach. “Fuck Danny, I want to cum together. Please, I need to feel it!”

“Here it is sweetheart, just for you. Take it” he grunted as his hips staggered, and you whined his name one more time as your legs held him in place until both your orgsams were over.

“It definitely worked that time, had to” Danny chuckled as he helped you clean up as best he could.

“Danny?” You turned to him, your chest still feeling tight despite the rest of your body being weakened and wobbly as you stood from the table. “Do you think I’ll be a good mom?”

Danny looked surprised by your question, not that you had asked him of all people, but because there was still any doubt within you. He swallowed hard, trying to decide if what he wanted to say would be taking things too far, but ultimately deciding you guys had been so intimate already, what was a little feelings being added to the mix? “I think I wouldn’t want anyone else to mother one of my children”.

You blushed hard, moving to give him another grateful kiss. “You know, I think you’d make a great Dad too”.

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