#i think why i love it so much. aside from the throwing it in a circle bit. is the SMUG happy face he makes
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deliciousnecks · 2 days ago
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I never shipped Nandermo, but this thing with the Guide???
Like why are the writers doing this?
You don't want to make Nandermo canon, ok fine.
But this doesn't make sense for the guide..
Idk, the show has always been a chaotic,fun show.
This season, I'm just watching to see how it ends. I'm beginning to think of last season as the actual finale
Trust the process.
Honestly, I'm not even worried about this. This whole Nandor & The Guide is not coming out of nowhere. I'm like 90% sure there's something cooking in the background, and it's not as obvious as Nandor and The Guide ending up together. Listen, I'm sure simms and all the writers are cackling as they watch people lose their heads over this.
i believe the writers are not that stupid as to throw all these years of a good show down the drain. plus, nothing is adding up. i'm sure that if they were serious about this, if they wanted to sell this to people, they would have added the guide to more episodes and for more time. but so far we have seen her for less than 2 minutes. they are honestly doing 0 shit to sell this "ship" just nandor being as hee always has been "in love" and rushing into things. also, can we take into consideration the guide? even if nandor was so in love with her, she's not? she said this herself.
there's something going on with nandor, and it happened on that hypnosis episode, and if not, something tells me that this "love" his feeling is gonna be something that moves the plot of this season, because this show has always been like that. they hide the little things things that are important for the plot among all the chaos that is happening and brush them aside like they are nothing, only for these bits to come up later in other episodes and be like SURPRISE!
as i said. the story is hiding something and is not as simple nor as obvious as Nandor and The Guide ending in happily ever after. As i said, the writers are not that stupid (or so i choose to believe). Rushing this relationship, magically make it appear out of nowhere, not only yes, would be a big "fuck you" to all those years they had the majority of their audience invested in the "will they or will they not" between nandor and guillermo (even if they were to become canon or not), but it will also make everyone hate this season so much because it would just feel so "?????", that i'm sure that's not what they want. especially this season focusing on nandor realizing how important guillermo is actually to him, but let's move on from that now.
can i be wrong? yes. can the writers also be this stupid? yes. but come on, we know that the writers even ship guillermo and nandor, i mean, the guys have been trying to get a kiss in there for who knows how long. so, honestly? i'm just not even gonna think too hard about this. i'm just gonna enjoy the show and see how things develop... and then maybe get annoyed after. not gonna lose my head over this right now.
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junos-jrabbles · 1 day ago
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How would baking with the mercs go?
Authors note sorry it's all short and possibly unreadable I might do some more of the fellas another time :) I'm am so cold and eepy
Pyro, Sniper, and Scout :)
Pyro
Spectacularly, believe me, it’d go so well, definitely no burning around here! No sir!
Jokes aside, it’d go pretty well!
You guys would bake some cupcakes, maybe some sugar cookies, as they’d probably love all things sweet in the kitchen, and you’d both be covered in flour, eggs, sugar, and god knows what in no time.
You’d get walked in on while jousting with rolling pins, and have to try and make it seem like you were being normal. Impossible.
Pyro would be sat, cross legged on the floor in front of the oven, watching the baked goods through the window.
Only some of the confectionaries would come out burnt, mostly due to you two getting distracted flipping through the recipe book and gawking at all the pretty treats.
You'd point like an excited ape at a towering cake, and Pyro would excitedly drum their hands on the paper and teeter on their heels, squeaking out muffled, joyous sounds under the mask as the cycle continued.
You guys would FEAST on your delicacies in Pyro's room, and have a little picnic/tea party with some old cartoons in the background :)
~~~
Sniper
It’d be a pretty peaceful activity, I’d imagine, an hour or so spent kneading, rolling and cutting pre bought cookie dough before you set it in the oven for as long as it says on the tin while you go spoon in his bed.
He probably wouldn’t have the ingredients for baking (or much fancy cooking) in the camper, and when you guys snuck into the base’s pantry, Lieutenant Bites was paws shoulders deep in the sugar, so.
The cookies would come out pretty perfectly, a little misshapen, (Sniper definitely tried to turn one into a heart, or an animal of some sort, and it came out as a funny blob) but really good!
He'd make sure you were both there ready the second they started turning a yummy golden brown around the edges.
He'd pull out the tray trying not to laugh, “Promise you won't laugh… the dog's gone blobby—” And almost drop everything.
You guys would cook up a batch, put half in a nice big baggy and eat the other half with him on the sofa with a board game in progress on the coffee table in front of you.
~~~
Scout
He's throwing the eggs between his hands like that one cooking mama mini game, and is NARROWLY avoiding splattering them absolutely fucking EVERYWHERE.
He'd absolutely go try and steal one from Archimedes if he dropped one
There's a crumpled sheet of paper with his ma's Boston cream pie recipe on the counter, and flour covering every single surface.
“Look, I don't know what’cha mean by ‘It won't work’— Are you sayin’ my ma ain't a world star chef? Nuh— Nuh-uh, I ain't listenin!”
He's asking you to make it tiered like a wedding cake, and he's adamant that not only is it possible, but that you definitely know how to do it.
He's got his fingers in his ears when you try telling him you don't think you can do that, and only starts listening again when you offer him the whisk to lick when you're done stirring the base cake mix.
The cake comes out okay, you manage to get just about everything put together, though, you guys definitely ate a bit too much of the cream while you were waiting, and only had a small layer to put in by the end.
It's yummy, at least! And when anyone comes into the kitchen wondering why it smells vaguely like burning and moreso like cake, you two link up like a defensive wall in front of it, looking around very inconspicuously, of course.
“What cake? Where? Someone's got cake?” Sloooowly hiding it behind your backs.
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brummiereader · 2 days ago
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@mischievouslittlecreature
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Sorry I'm late getting to this. I've had a busy past few days 😩.
Lucy, you're killing me with these comparisons you keep making between yourself and Lizzie. It's so hard to read when she slips into this mindset, because I think as the reader, you see all the qualities about her Tommy loves. As much as Tommy loves a beautiful woman like we have seen in canon (Lucy is gorgeous too!), i feel like he's really attracted to the things that make someone them. That and wit and intelligence. No offence to Lizzie, but even in the series, their conversations don't go very far. He needs somebody to match him on that level, and thats Lucy ❤️.
She remained at his side as they enacted the first part of the plan, schooling her features into an expression of distraught mourning while Tommy climbed into the ring and fired his revolver into the air. I love this scene! Not only does Lucy like to put on a dramatic show, but so does Tommy 🤭.
“You deserved every second of it.” ooh that evil witch 😬. I'd like to think those exact words played out in her head in the final scene to this chapter 😌.
With wrathful, echoing footsteps, Lizzie came storming in, throwing her coat aside as she stalked towards Tommy’s desk. God, will we ever get a break from Lizzie barging through Tommy's office 🙄. She's starting to get on my last nerve with her continued entitlement. I feel so sorry for Lucy everytime she turns up. She just puts a huge damper on every single scene, and it doesn't surprise me how Lucy continues to feel worthless when she's around. Lizzie constantly demands all the rooms attention every time she shows up. It's so bratty and immature. I say all this but, the small interaction between them at the end was a welcome relief. But I just know she'll F it all up again in later scene *slams head repeatedly against table 🤦🏼‍♀️😩.
“Which is why we can go together" yes to this! If they're gonna do this, they need to do it together. Every single interaction. Because if they don't, Lucy will start to doubt Tommy's love for her, something I feel he's caught on to now and hence, why he suggested this ❤️.
“Good to see you again, Lucy,” Luca beamed at her, white teeth barring like an animal poised to start ripping out throats. “How’s your back?” *pushes Arthur out the way so I can shoot him myself 😡. Urghh, he made my skin crawl during this scene. His remarks, his snake like mannerisms 😬. But what make me smile was this line, because I knew exactly what it meant 🤭...What’s the bag for?” She didn’t answer, just staring at him silently, teeth clenching tight against each other.
only to have the back of her coat seized, yanking her back like a kitten seized by the scruff of the neck by its mother.-"Don’t you dare,” Polly said in a voice that was almost motherly. Couldn't not mention this line before moving on to the next scene 😂. I love Lucy, she really is like an over eager kitten trying to get involved!
Ahhh yes ☺️. The sigh of relief I sighed when Audrey finally met her end. Once again you set the scene perfectly with her mulling about in her kitchen as Lucy waited in the dark 😈. It gave me shivers how Lucy toyed with her until the very end.
“Speaking of Luca, I have something of his for you. Would you like to see?” She reached for the bag, and before Audrey could protest or question what she meant, Winters stood, picking up the bag and yanking it open, turning it upside down to allow its contents to drop onto the kitchen table. Luca got the Lucy special 👌🏼. How creepy is it that he's seen the heads of his men one by one thrown at his feet. Did he never stop to think that his head would be served up like all the men before him?? This man has zero hindsight 🤦🏼‍♀️.
Not an inch of iron to be seen. 😳, seems Audrey got the same as Luca! This line was short but so gory, I loved it!
Incredible chapter once again Lily! I can't believe how close we are the end of this Act 😭. So excited for the next installment to this amazing series ❤️.
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Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir
Fandom: Peaky Blinders
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC
Summary: An incident at Bonnie's boxing match provides the family with an opportunity to end the war.
Word Count: 6,837
Notes: Warnings for depictions of insecurity, violence, blood, and references to past sexual assault and pregnancy.
Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter
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Chapter 27: Endless Shadows
“You look dead,” Alfie said to her in greeting as he entered the locker room, moving to sit on the bench across from them. 
“Oh good,” Lucy didn’t open her eyes from where she was still leaning with her head resting against Tommy’s shoulder. “Then I look how I feel.”
Tommy’s thumb rubbed up and down her shoulder soothingly.  
She cracked her eyes open a sliver while Alfie and Tommy talked, watching Alfie curiously. There was something odd in his eyes, and his words were almost…melancholic.
“Glad you’re back, kiddo,” he gave her a small pat on the upper arm as he stood and said his farewells. But that look did not cease, creasing at the edges of his eyes and the corners of his lips. 
“Thanks, Alfie,” she said, brow furrowing at the near apologetic way in which he said it. 
They watched him walk away, heads cocked and frowning. 
“Convenient of him to be moving to Margate now, of all times,” Tommy remarked once Alfie was gone. Lucy nodded. 
“You think that Luca scared him?”
Tommy’s lips pursed. “Alfie doesn’t strike me as the type to get scared off that easily.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she frowned, still eyeing the archway through which Alfie had disappeared. A roar of cheers emitted from the ring. “We better get going. Fight’s about to start.”
He put out his cigarette, standing and helping her to her feet. Linking her arms back through his, Lucy gave him a soft squeeze. 
“Alright?”
She nodded. “Just don’t let me get jostled around too much.”
He smoothed a hand over her hair, kissed her forehead, and led the way back towards the ring. 
It already smelled strongly of sweat, booze, and smoke, the men hollering and jeering, lurching and moving like a great wave of bodies as they watched Bonnie and Goliath circle each other. Tommy led the way to their seats next to Arthur, keeping a protective arm around her to shield her from the bulk of the crowd. After they took their seats, Arthur soon started fretting to Tommy about the men that had come with Goliath. Lucy followed his gaze to where they stood in their corner across the ring. The men didn’t look all that engaged with Goliath, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe Goliath preferred for his men to be more hands off. 
But Arthur continued to insist that something was wrong, despite Tommy’s attempts to soothe him. 
Her eyes darted to where Polly, Linda, and Lizzie all were seated across the ring from them, giggling and shouting encouragement to Bonnie while passing around a bottle of Tommy’s gin. As expected they were all dressed up lavishly for the occasion, in glittering, form fitting dresses, furs draped over their shoulders, and jewels dangling from their ears and throats. 
Lucy felt a sharp wave of self consciousness wash over her, quickly wrapping her arms around her middle, shoulders drawing in as if that would somehow achieve her new goal of becoming invisible. 
She watched Lizzie, so tall and elegant and beautiful as she laughed and chatted with Polly, and wished that the ground would swallow her whole. They could not have looked more different if they’d tried. Where Lizzie was tall and slender, Lucy was short and curvy. Lizzie could wear just about any of the dresses currently in fashion and look marvelous, but if Lucy tried to wear anything without some sort of defined waist, she’d wind up looking as though she was dressed in a potato sack. Some days she could hardly get her curls to cooperate, but Lizzie’s hair was almost always beautifully styled and tamed. Her eyes were actually in proportion with the rest of her face, rather than oversized almost to the point of absurdity like Lucy’s were. Where Lucy’s face was covered in freckles, Lizzie’s porcelain white skin was clear of any marks or blemishes, nor was her body marked with any cuts that would soon heal over into truly hideous scars that would never really fade away. 
God, Lucy couldn’t help but think, she had to look absolutely horrid compared to her. 
She glanced at Tommy out of the corner of her eye, taking in the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones. She was not even close to pretty enough to be with him. Lizzie would have looked right at his side. A perfect match–at least outwardly. Lucy could not help but assume that she and Tommy must look terribly mismatched together. 
He really probably ought to have his head examined. Even on her best days, no one in their right mind would choose her over Lizzie. 
Clearing her throat, she wiped at her face with her sleeve, hoping that anyone who noticed would assume that she was dabbing away sweat and not the tears building up against her lashes. 
Movement to her left snatched away her attention. Arthur had stood, disappearing into the crowd and ignoring Tommy’s shouts for him to come back. Instead he continued towards the hallway leading to the back, following right on the heels of one of Goliath’s men who had wandered off from the rest of the pack still gathered by the ring. 
“Fuck’s sake.” Tommy grumbled as he watched Arthur go. Lucy settled a hand on his shoulder. Around them, the crowd’s shouts rose to a fever pitch as the fight intensified. 
Minutes ticked by, and Arthur did not come back. 
Stretching up in her seat, Lucy craned her head around, trying to see if he was in the crowd somewhere and they’d just missed him. 
“Tommy,” she grabbed at his bicep in warning as another one of Goliath’s minders left his post, heading in the same direction that Arthur had gone. Seizing her hand, Tommy shot out of his seat, pulling her along with him to follow. His jaw was straining, eyes wide, and she wondered if he was thinking about how she’d stepped out just to run a few errands, and was almost snatched away from him forever. How the same exact thing might be happening with Arthur. 
They had just rounded a corner in the maze of backrooms when the unmistakable sound of a gunshot going off echoed somewhere within the halls and rooms up ahead. Tommy skidded to a stop, hand flying into his coat for his gun. Lucy mimicked his movements, flinching at the way that reaching into her coat pulled on her shoulder. 
“Stay behind me,” Tommy ordered. She opened her mouth to protest, then promptly closed it. It would be laughable to try to argue that she could actually be of much use right now in anything but a distanced firefight. And he didn’t have time to waste worrying about her getting hurt again. Following him closely at a rather painful jog, they rushed down a hallway bathed in baby blue light, turning into another room in which one of Goliath’s minders was standing over a crumpled Arthur, gun aimed at his head. 
Tommy’s shot struck him directly in the chest, and he went slouching to the floor.   
Tommy went racing to his brother, shouting his name and pulling him up into his arms. Lucy double checked to ensure that the man he’d shot was actually dead, then checked the corners of the room for any other enemies that may have been skulking about. There was no one. 
Rounding back to Tommy, she went to kneel at Arthur’s side. For a second, she thought that he was dead, his eyes were staring at nothing and there was blood on his hands and throat. Tommy curled over him, a hand cupping the side of his older brother’s face, thin rivers of his blood lacing across his hand. 
There was roaring from the crowd still gathered around the ring in the distance, the sound reaching such a volume that Lucy thought they very well might bring the roof down. The fight must be over. 
Arthur twitched and gasped in Tommy’s arms. Tommy let out a relieved wheeze, hugging him tightly, and Lucy breathed out gratefully, resting a hand on the back of Arthur’s head while his face tucked into Tommy’s shoulder.
“Are you alright?” Tommy drew back, grabbing him by either side of the face. Arthur nodded, still breathing harshly.
“Just nicked.”
Tommy nodded, and while she drew out a handkerchief for Arthur to dab at his neck, Lucy spotted something shift in Tommy’s eyes, immediately recognizing the telltale expression of an idea taking form as the circuits in his head began to whirl at warp speed. 
“Tommy?”
His eyes snapped to her. “I’ve got it figured out.”
“What?”
He grabbed at both of them. “I’ve got it figured out,” he repeated.
“Got what figured out, Tommy?”
His eyes glittered. “How to win.”
∗ ∗ ∗
She remained at his side as they enacted the first part of the plan, schooling her features into an expression of distraught mourning while Tommy climbed into the ring and fired his revolver into the air, creating plenty of noise and commotion, drawing all eyes to him so that Arthur could easily sneak away whilst Tommy announced the news of his ‘death’ to the world. 
It had been chaos after that; hours spent as their men searched and questioned everyone in attendance before allowing them to leave. And the family had swarmed Tommy with questions and reactions of shock and horror. The only other ones outside of Lucy and Tommy that knew that Arthur was still alive were Polly and Linda. It was the only way to be sure that everyone reacted believably during what was coming next. 
The boxing ring was empty and quiet, now. Everyone had finally been dismissed. The family had all gone back home to steep in their shock and grief and prepare for the funeral.
“I’m sorry.” Lucy said, playing with her fingers, keeping her voice quiet.
Tommy raised an eyebrow, fishing a cigarette from his case and swiping it across his lips. “Why?”
“I feel like I’m really fucking useless right now.”
His features creased, moving to stand directly in front of her. “Hey, no; none of that now. You’re hurt. It’s not your fault. Besides, you’ve already taken out plenty of Luca’s men throughout this vendetta.” He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. “You’ve more than done your part.”
She sighed, leaning her forehead into his chest. The day had been long, and she was exhausted. Her injuries, particularly her back and shoulders, were starting to hurt badly. 
“Let’s go home.” Tommy suggested, reaching for her hand. Lucy took it eagerly, letting him lead her from the building and out onto the streets. Tomorrow would be busy. They needed to get back to the house to start preparing for it.
“It was some of Alfie’s boys that attacked us,” Tommy mumbled, head bowed, the hand that wasn’t holding hers slipping into his pocket.
“I can’t believe that he betrayed us for Luca of all people.”
Tommy shrugged. “It’s what Alfie does.” But the hurt in his voice was obvious. “Maybe Luca threatened him.”
“When has Alfie ever backed down because of threats?”
A sigh of agreement left his lips. Lucy shifted uncomfortably, her own hurt at Alfie’s actions squeezing within her throat. 
“Do you think he knew that they took me?” Her voice was quiet, not bothering to try to hide the pain that the thought brought her. She’d known Alfie since they were teenagers. He’d gotten her medical attention that she likely would have died without it after Matthew and his friends assaulted her. And despite her working for and being wholly loyal to Tommy, they’d always maintained a friendly, warm relationship. That he would allow for her to be tortured…
She bit her lip, looking down at her shoes. Tommy squeezed her hand. 
“I don’t know, love. When I called him while you were missing to ask him to have some of his men search for you in London, he seemed genuinely worried. I don’t think…” he trailed off with another sigh. “I don’t think that he knew. But it’s hard to say for sure.”
“Yeah,” she offered him a wobbly half smile. “I’m assuming we’re gonna have to pay him a visit to Margate after things are cleaned up here.”
Tommy’s jaw twitched, eyes growing even more sorrowful than they’d been a moment ago. They both knew how any visit to Alfie was now likely to end. “Yes, I suppose so.”
“I guess we can ask him then.”
They continued to walk together in silence. There was something else that she wanted to discuss with him, but she was unsure how he would take it. She’d never made a suggestion quite like the one she was about to make. Mounting her courage, she forced her lips to part and her tongue to move.
“I think that you should send Michael away.”
Tommy did not react, head still dipped, staring at his shoes and the cobblestones while they walked. She’d just opened her mouth to say more when he finally spoke. 
“Yes, I think you’re right.”
“I don’t trust him anymore.”  
“Me neither.”
She sighed, both in relief at Tommy’s agreement to her suggestion and with disappointment towards the boy that had once shown so much promise. “Well…fuck.”
He hummed in agreement. “Not our best year.”
“No. No, it really hasn’t been.”
His fingers flexed against hers in a tender squeeze, head turning to kiss her forehead. She could see the house on the end of the block, her tired bones giving a quiet cry of relief at the thought of soon being able to rest. 
∗ ∗ ∗
The next few days were spent laying meticulous plans and taking careful actions. Michael was sent away to New York, and Lucy and Tommy spent a significant amount of time on the phone, locked in calculated negotiations. Arthur’s funeral was a quiet affair, a good amount of tears shed and sorrow exchanged between the family as the wagon went up in flames. 
The meeting that took place after with Audrey Changretta saw Lucy leaning against a wall. Luca had taken her rings, so her hands had begun to instead unconsciously pick at the skin of her fingers whenever she was nervous, leaving bloody scabs to add to her ever growing collection. She did not say a word during the whole exchange, keeping her eyes focused straight ahead, not even looking at Audrey for fear that if she did, she’d kill her. 
This woman. This cunt who John had spared. And how did she repay them? By setting her sadistic fucking son on all of them. Her husband had Tommy’s wife killed, and yet she dared to speak as if his death by their hands was unjustified. 
When the meeting was over, Audrey gathered up her things, and went to the door. Upon passing Lucy, she stopped, looking over her bruised face and the bandages peeking out from under her clothes. Lucy forced herself to meet the woman’s cold eyes, keeping all feeling off her face. Audrey leaned forward, so that Lucy could smell the sickly sweet scent of her perfume.
“You deserved every second of it.”
“That’s enough; get out,” Polly commanded, taking a step forward, probably at least in part so that she was placed between Audrey and Tommy. A dark storm cloud of rage had passed across his eyes at Audrey’s words, his icy gaze remaining locked on the back of her head as Polly ushered her out the door. He looked to be seconds away from throwing the whole carefully laid plan to the wayside and killing her then and there. 
Heaving herself away from the wall, Lucy went to him, resting both hands on his upper arms to get his attention and draw him away from his murderous thoughts. She rubbed her palms back and forth, feeling the heat and strength of his arms through the layers of his clothes. 
“She’ll get what’s coming to her,” she reminded him. No need to rush things. Besides, what they had planned for Audrey would be far more satisfying than a quick bullet to the back of the head. 
Tommy nodded, head angling down and wetting his lips. Lucy leaned closer to him.
“Almost done,” she whispered in quiet encouragement.
“Yes,” Tommy murmured, with the tone of someone who knew that the tribulations of life would never fully be finished with them. “Almost.” 
∗ ∗ ∗
She passed form after form to Polly and Tommy, helping to keep track of which ones still needed to be signed and by who. The scratch of pens against paper and the rustling of pages was the primary sound in the office, save for the occasional clearing of Tommy’s throat, or quiet mumbles from any of the three of them. 
When they were finally done, Tommy gathered all files into a folder, sighing and planting both hands on his desk while Polly leaned back in her chair, flexing the fingers of her writing hand. 
“Right, so now–” Lucy began, but was cut off by the door flying open. With wrathful, echoing footsteps, Lizzie came storming in, throwing her coat aside as she stalked towards Tommy’s desk. Lucy shrank away, quickly getting up from her chair so that she could retreat into the corner while Lizzie snarled questions as to why Tommy hadn’t been by her house yet to visit her. Tommy sighed, slumping back into his chair with a cigarette. Polly’s eyes darted shrewdly between the three of them. Lizzie dropped into the seat Lucy had been occupying, an expectant look on her face. 
Lucy frowned at the entitlement. Had she forgotten that they were still in the middle of a fucking war? That, as far as she knew, Tommy’s brother had just died? Did she really think now was a good time to start making demands of his time and energy?
She flinched at her bitter thoughts, looking shamefully down at her hands, aware that she probably wasn’t being fair.
Despite their talk before the kidnapping, she still couldn’t shake the feeling that Lizzie and the baby inside of her were hanging over her relationship with Tommy like the blade of a guillotine, poised and ready to drop at any moment to sever them from each other.
She glanced out the window, wrapping her arms around herself. As Tommy and Polly explained to Lizzie that Luca was coming for them all tomorrow, Lizzie’s face paled. She stared at Tommy, completely aghast at his apparent surrender. 
“You can’t just…you can’t just let him take everything…” she began to stammer.
“You want to live?” Tommy asked. Lizzie pressed her lips together, eyes wide. “This makes that possible.”
Lizzie looked around at all of them with her lips parted. “Wha–you all are alright with just giving up?”
“I thought that you wanted him to stop all of this sort of work anyway, Lizzie,” Lucy mumbled. Petty? Maybe. But her shoulders were starting to hurt again and she really was regretting letting Lizzie take her seat. Lizzie’s eyes widened, darting between Tommy and Lucy at the subtle revelation that he’d told her everything she’d said to him during their conversation when Lucy was taken. “And I don’t know about the rest of you,” she shifted uncomfortably, “but I’ve had enough of this war.”
Lizzie’s gaze dropped down to her lap. 
“We need to get going. There’s still things we need to do,” Tommy stood and grabbed his coat. “We’ll talk once this is all over, all right?” he told Lizzie in an attempt to placate her. She nodded, actually looking agreeable to the suggestion. Lucy picked up the folder of papers, moving to follow Tommy and Polly out, when Lizzie delicately touched her arm, triggering her to pause. 
“Lucy, I’m…” she worried at her bottom lip, then sighed. “I’m glad you’re alive.”
Lucy blinked. “You don’t have to lie.”
“I’m not. I know we’ve…I’ve had my problems with you, but I would never have wished what happened onto you.”
Lucy stared at her, wetting her lips, surprised at the genuinely in Lizzie’s voice. “Thank you.” She wasn’t sure what else to say. Jerking her head towards the door, she beckoned her to follow them out. “Come on.”
Lizzie gathered up her coat and trailed her to the door. “I didn’t mean to make such a fuss–”
“It’s fine,” Lucy lit a cigarette, pushing the door open to step out onto the street, moving to stand at Tommy’s side. Lizzie looked at them nervously, it not lost on Lucy how her eyes lingered on Tommy’s hand when it rested lightly on her shoulder. There seemed to be a battle going on inside her, the desire to lash out and rage at them for the gesture of affection, versus the need to keep the peace.
Lucy had to wonder if her current injuries had been what had earned her at least somewhat of a reprieve from both Polly and Lizzie’s hatred. That, and Tommy’s increased protectiveness. If either of them tried anything with him present right now, there was a strong possibility that he would rip their heads off. 
“You want a ride?” Polly offered to Lizzie, who nodded somewhat sheepishly, giving one last indication of goodbye to Lucy and Tommy before following Polly to her car. 
“Sorry about that,” Tommy huffed. Lucy shook her head. 
“It’s fine. You really should go visit her…”
A quiet groan left his lips, thumb rubbing at his eyes while his features scrunched as if in pain. “I know.” It sounded like it was the last thing on earth he’d like to do. Lucy squeezed his arm. 
“It actually is a nice house.”
“Fucking grand.”
“Tommy.”
Another groan. “We can go over there together sometime after this is done.”
“Maybe it would be better if you went on your own…”
He shot her a sharp look, behind which she swore she saw a stab of panic. “Absolutely not.”
“Tommy…I know you’re gonna have to spend time with her. It’s fine. I can be an adult about it.”
“Your behavior isn’t what I’m worried about. Besides,” he watched Polly and Lizzie’s car pull away from the curb and drove away with a little honk of the horn in farewell to them, “she’s already delusional enough about what may or may not happen between me and her. You really think me spending time alone with her is gonna help that?”
Lucy looked down at her shoes. “I just feel bad…”
“Which is why we can go together. Hey,” he took her by both shoulders, waiting until she was looking up into his eyes before speaking again. “Her feelings aren’t your responsibility.” 
“Feels like they are when I’m the cause of her misery.”
“You are no such thing. If anyone is, it’s me, not you.” He brushed his knuckles against her chin. “Even if you weren’t here, it would not change things between me and Lizzie. You’ve nothing to feel guilty for. You’re not keeping me from her. I promise.” His forehead bumped into hers. “I don’t love her. I don’t want to be with her. I want to be with you. Ey?”
A lump formed in her throat, nodding. His words helped, but only a little. It would only take a few days or so, and her insecurities would return as they always did. There was no escaping them. 
“Come on,” he kissed her, and took hold of her hand. “We’ve got more important things to worry about than Lizzie right now.”  
She let him guide her down the sidewalk, still holding onto him, despite the whispers of the guilt and self doubt that Lizzie’s pregnancy had awakened. Murmurs that told her over and over to let go and walk away.
∗ ∗ ∗
“Quick or slow?”
She stared over at the huge barrels that lined the wall of Tommy’s gin distillery, turning the question over in her mind, feeling Tommy’s eyes on her as he waited patiently for her response. 
“I don’t suppose I could ask for a bit of both.”
His head tilted curiously. “How do you mean?”
“I wouldn’t be opposed to him being roughened up a bit before we put a bullet in his face. But…” she sighed, head tilting up towards the rafters. She could no longer hear the flutter of starlings’ wings. “I just want him gone.” Maybe then, I’ll finally be able to sleep at night. It had worked, if only partially, with Matthew. No, it had not been enough to stop the nightmares, or the aching from her scars. But the peace of mind that it had brought her, knowing that he could no longer return to hurt her or anyone else ever again, could not be understated. “Quick,” she decided. “I want it to be quick.” It had been enough for her when they killed Vincente Changretta with a single speedy bullet to the head. It would be enough for her now with his son. 
“Okay.” 
She leaned into him, head nestling under his collarbone. “Thank you for giving me a choice.”
He stroked her back tenderly, kissing the crown of her head. “You don’t need to be here. You don’t have to see him again.”
“I want to be there,” she argued back. “Please, Tommy. I promise I’m not going to kill him prematurely, or anything like that. I just…” want him to know that he didn’t break me completely, she finished silently, looking down, lip caught between her teeth. When she raised her face back to Tommy, her gaze was pleading. “I have to see this.”
He searched her eyes for a very long moment. “I won’t let him touch you,” he promised, finally. “And if things get ugly, if there’s any sort of struggle or anything like that, I need you to swear you will stay out of it. I can’t have you getting hurt.”
She knew her agreement to that condition was the only way he’d allow her to be in the same room with Luca, so she conceded. Though not without a small grumble. 
And so she stood there, with Tommy, Polly, and Finn, as Luca’s men filed into the room.  
Her hands squeezed tightly around each other at the sight of Luca’s tall, imposing figure stepping forward. He grinned, that same damned smile he’d flashed her way dozens of times while carving into her flesh. It took all her willpower not to shrink down behind Tommy, her heart suddenly thundering in her ears, all instincts screaming at her to get as far away as possible from the man in front of them. 
“Good to see you again, Lucy,” Luca beamed at her, white teeth barring like an animal poised to start ripping out throats. “How’s your back?”
The deep, barely healed lashes he’d created in the skin of her back ached with memory. 
“Let’s get this over with,” Tommy said through gritted teeth, drawing Luca’s attention back to him. Luca strode forward, until he was close enough for Lucy to gag on the familiar scent of his cologne. He and Tommy stared each other down, and then Luca snapped his fingers, one of his men coming forward with a briefcase. 
What happened next was as expected: Luca monologued for a little while. At his order that they all be searched, slight panic washed over Lucy that he would try to touch her. But when he made a move towards her, Tommy shifted himself in between them with a growl. Luca’s eyes danced with mirth at the reaction, but he seemed to know not to push it, gesturing with a gloved hand for one of his men to come over and pat her down instead. 
“Careful of her bandages,” he said, a leering smile still aimed at her. “Wouldn’t want to rip open any stitches.”
Lucy glowered at him, hate shooting white-hot through her veins. That just seemed to amuse him more, before he turned his attention to Polly.
The Italian man peeked into her coat and patted at her pockets. She flinched at his hands pressing into her bruised ribs, but he followed his orders, being careful not to jostle her too much. He pulled from her boot her hunting knife, her gun from its holster in her jacket, and an empty burlap sack from her coat pocket. Luca chuckled, taking the items, examining them and then setting them on the table. 
“I’d expect nothing less.” He said to her, his tone carrying underneath its faux fondness an edge of something far darker. “What’s the bag for?” She didn’t answer, just staring at him silently, teeth clenching tight against each other. Her lack of answer only seemed to delight him more. “What say you that later we…” his eyes swept up and down her body leeringly, “pick back up where we left earlier, hm? Lucy?”
She felt bile rise in the back of her throat, nails digging into her skin where her hands were still clasped together, leaving little crescent moons in their wake.
“Luca,” Tommy’s voice rasped, tone dangerously low. “You’re here to deal with me. Not her.”
Luca’s gaze lingered on her for a moment more, then shifted back to Tommy. “Yes…” he murmured, a soft hiss drawing out the last letter. Those snake-like orbs gleamed as Tommy shifted a little closer to her, placing himself half between them. Luca raised a pen to Tommy, indicating the papers he’d scattered across the table. “So…sign.”
When Tommy didn’t immediately start signing the papers laid out before him, Luca had a little hissy fit, the display of which managed to cause Lucy a brief spark of amusement. This was all theater, after all. And Luca was about to be in for a very nasty surprise. The calmness in Tommy’s voice as he spoke helped too, reminding her that they were the ones in control of the situation–and all the men in the room. 
Seeing the glee slowly drain from Luca’s eyes while Tommy and Polly revealed to him what exactly they’d been busy doing since the events of the boxing match, was perhaps one of the most satisfying things Lucy had ever experienced. She could feel the beginnings of a smile twitching at her lips, and was aware that there was a sadistic sort of light beginning to dance in her eyes. 
It was not nearly enough for what he’d done to her, but it was still satisfying as all hell to observe. 
Luca made a move to grab his gun from his coat, and Tommy lashed out at him with a metal pipe on the floor, striking it out of his hand. Lucy’s muscles tensed–an action that really fucking hurt–with the reflex to jump in and help him as the pair began to struggle. She took half a step forward, only to have the back of her coat seized, yanking her back like a kitten seized by the scruff of the neck by its mother.
“Don’t you dare,” Polly said in a voice that was almost motherly. Tommy sent Luca crashing into a dozen or so gin bottles lined up on a table. “He’s fine.”
A tiny, distressed noise left Lucy’s throat, but she did as she was told. She’d promised, after all.
Tommy didn’t need her help, anyway. He was bringing Luca’s head down over and over again savagely against the table, steadily transforming his features into a bloody pulp. As he continued to beat Luca within an inch of his life, the side door opened, and Arthur stepped in with his gun already at the ready. 
At the sound of his footsteps, Tommy’s head turned in his brother’s direction, raising Luca up, he presented him to his older brother, and the bullet fired from Arthur’s gun made a quick home in Luca Changretta’s bloodied face. 
It blew straight through his head, out the back of his skull and ripping a hole into one of the gin barrels behind him, a steady stream of clear alcohol starting to rain down onto the floor, permeating the room with the scent of booze and juniper.  
Lucy did not hear any of the orders Tommy rattled off to the remainder of Luca’s men, nor the warning Arthur left them with. Her eyes remained fixed solely on Luca’s dead body. There was a rush of both cold and warmth going through her. Relief, that he was dead. Regret, because she did not get to be the one that made him that way.
He may be dead, but he would be with her forever. Always in her head, laughing as he whipped her and ripped at her flesh. The thought chilled her to her core, her breaths turning shaky. 
“Luce–” Tommy tried to reach out for her, but she shook his touch away, staggering forward and grabbing her sack and hunting knife that Luca had set on one of the tables. Pushing past him, she kneeled by Luca’s corpse. The hunting knife twirled once in her hands, and then she set to work with it. Behind her, she heard Polly let out a soft gasp, turning away as Lucy started to prepare the very final phase of their plan to end the vendetta once and for all. 
∗ ∗ ∗
Audrey Changretta held an expression of iron across her face. 
Even wandering through her own home, alone, putting the kettle on and bustling about to make herself a cup of tea, the look remained, held firmly by the muscles of her cheeks and jaw. 
It was the look that had emblazoned itself upon her face as she lay there on the ground, after Arthur and John took her Vincenzo away and left her laying there sobbing. Slowly, the tears had turned to quiet sniffles. Then, to silence. And her look of grief and sorrow had transformed, until nothing but unyielding steel remained in its wake. 
The fools should have killed her when they had the chance. 
She had grabbed onto the hate that had burned within her with both hands, not caring when it scorched her skin or withered away the gentle heart she’d once had. Even towards the troublesome little boys who had sat in her class. 
But they were no more those innocent, sweet little children than she was the kindhearted teacher she had once been. Her heart had died with Vincenzo. And much as Luca or his men may have liked to think otherwise, she was the real head of the family in his absence. And to be that, she had to be steel. There was no room for gentleness or compassion. She would stamp out each and every one of them. Not just the ones who carried the name Shelby. But any close to them. The old man who owned the scrapyard they so often liked to gather at. The gypsies who’d dared to join up with them. The whore who’d gotten herself knocked up with Thomas Shelby’s bastard. Not even John’s widow would be spared. It would take time to find her, of that Audrey had no doubt. But they would.
Then there was the matter of the little Red Demon, of course. She would be back in Luca’s grasp before too long, if she was not already. Then they could finish what they’d started with her. 
So foolish that he’d let her escape at all. But she supposed that it didn’t matter now. They had her, same as the rest of them. And by the time the sun rose, they’d all be dead.
Finishing preparing her tea, she cradled the delicate China teacup in her hands, and turned to go sit in the chair at her kitchen table next to the window. 
The seat was already taken. 
A harsh intake of breath rushed painfully into her lungs, hands tightening around the teacup in surprise. But despite being caught off guard, the look of iron across her face never waved, not even for a second. 
Her and the figure folded lazily into the chair just looked at each other for a long moment. Audrey’s eyes darted to the exit, considering if it would do better to try to make a run for it or to shout for the guards that Luca had posted outside.  
“Don’t bother,” Lucy Winters said. Even with the lights off and nothing but the silvery light of the moon peeking in through the window to illuminate her, Audrey could make out her distinctive, foxy features. The deep red hair, the shimmering green eyes, the freckles and slanting cheekbones. Despite half her face still a faded purple from the bruises Luca had gifted her, she managed to embody an untouchable, subtly unnerving beauty. Like a poisonous plant or a feral fox. Lovely to look at, but lethal. 
“How did you get in?” Audrey demanded.
“I’m a very talented person. Please, sit.”
Audrey eyed the seat that Winters kicked out for her warily, not moving. “The terms for peace have already been set. The meeting with Luca and Thomas has already taken place,” her eyes narrowed to slits as she leaned forward slightly. “So just what do you think you are doing here, girl?”
“Mr. Shelby had something that he wanted me to deliver to you in person,” she gestured to a bag on the table. Audrey huffed out a rather over exaggerated sigh.
“I have no interest in gifts.”
Winters smiled, and it was a truly terrible thing to behold. Her green eyes glittered madly, red hair framing her face like a fiery halo. 
Horns would be more fitting, Audrey thought bitterly to herself.
“I think you will with this one,” she shifted in her seat, and Audrey noticed the gingerness in her movements. The girl was still badly hurt. A flutter of pride flapped in her chest towards her son. Even if he was an idiot for not outright killing her when he had the chance. “I wanted to be the one to come see you,” Winters said, stretching out, sprawling in her chair. “You see, you and I should have met a long time ago. If only Tommy had sent me to take care of you and your husband instead of his idiot brothers, you’d have never made it out of Liverpool. We could have avoided this whole mess.”
“Luca still would have come after you to avenge us.”
“Maybe,” Winters agreed. “But he wouldn’t have had such deep insights into our organization, now would he? That was all from you.” A sneer curled her features. “Ungrateful cunt. John let you live, and you repaid him with a rain of bullets on his own fucking doorstep.”
“You dare talk to me like that? You’re an adulteress slut who’s only gotten as far as you have because Tommy Shelby likes to stuff his cock in you. You have no room to pass judgment on anyone after the things you’ve done. I ought to order the torture Luca had planned for you finished. It would be justice for all the pain you’ve caused.”
The Red Demon smiled, slow and easy, not at all perturbed by Audrey’s words. “Speaking of Luca, I have something of his for you. Would you like to see?” She reached for the bag, and before Audrey could protest or question what she meant, Winters stood, picking up the bag and yanking it open, turning it upside down to allow its contents to drop onto the kitchen table. 
Luca’s head, bloodied and beaten, hit the wood with a dull, wet thud. His green eyes were open, wide and staring lifelessly at her. The stump where his head had been severed from his neck oozed. 
Audrey’s mouth fell open, but no sound came out. The teacup tumbled from her hands to shatter on the floor. The room swayed, her hands flying out to try to brace herself on the counter. Her boy. Her sweet boy. He’d just been with her that morning, grinning and overjoyed as they celebrated their victory against the infernal Peaky Blinders. They had biscuits and drank tea. Any moment from now he was supposed to walk through her front door, and tell her how his final meeting with Thomas Shelby had gone.
They’d won. They’d fucking won. The vendetta was over. How…?
A low, wailing moan started to emit from her throat, collapsing to her knees, eyes unable to pull away from Luca’s lifeless face. 
No, no, my boys, they’re all gone. They’re all dead, my whole family…
She was not at all aware of Winters striding around her, nor of the cold press of a blade against her throat. Not until it sliced across her skin, and her blood flowed out of her to splatter across the kitchen tiles. When she fell lifeless to the floor, her expression was twisted into one of despair and grief, chillingly similar to the same one that had crossed her features as they ripped Vincenzo away from her, and she sobbed alone into the dirt. 
Not an inch of iron to be seen.
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acebytaemin · 8 months ago
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spot the difference game [LEVEL IMPOSSIBLE]
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scattered-winter · 4 months ago
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every day i kick a rock and bash my head into the wall because i'll never get to go on a big space adventure and become tightly close-knit with my new found family up there <//3
#re lrb..........#i mean realistically if i was in the voltron/quintenary stars universe chances are i would probably NOT be one of the people#going on the space adventure.#i'd be roped into the plot when the aliens invade and earth almost gets destroyed. spoilers for arc 2 btw sorry#but man. child soldierism aside i wish that were me so so so bad#sadly kicks a rock when will EYE have a deep and mystical connection with a giant ancient cat :(#its not even that i want to interact with the main cast bc i dont really i just. wanna be in their position man#i think one of the reasons why voltron grabbed me so hard (among MANY) is how badly i wanted to do what the main characters did#i remember when i was first watching it while it was coming out i would CONSISTENTLY daydream about being launched into space#with a handful of other people and having to fight a war and grow up far away from home and all the suffocating stuff that came with it#and then coming back years later already solidly knowing who i am and being confident in that#so i'd actually be brave enough to be unapologetic about it. and i'd be found family with the people i went to space with also#that parts important#idk man just. i dont like saying i was abused when i was younger because i really dont think it was like that and it isnt even close to#what how people who have really been abused have had to go through#but sometimes i really do wonder. like now that im (mostly) out and able to review everything with an outside perspective#not even getting into the cult survivorism stuff this is JUST family dynamics im talking about here#bc that shit is a whole other can of worms#i think my parents were genuinely doing the best they could with the cards they were dealt but. jesus christ.#i would have given ANYTHING to be able to run away from all that. and throw magic cats into the equation? brother im GONE#anyway this tags ramble has derailed in a MAJOR way. tldr i wanted to be a paladin sooooo fuckign bad bro#like it actually makes me SICK how much i want a lion. red you are my forever girl even if only in my heart <///3#i still do want to do all that out of principle but its not as desperate now i just really love space and really want a big kitty friend#winter speaks
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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 7 months ago
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Simon taking care of you when you accidentally injured yourself. Just fluff cuz I need fluff :D .
cw: pet names (princess, love etc.)
“Simon, I’m home!”
You opened the front door, only to see Simon sitting on the couch. Hearing your voice, he raised his head from the book he was infatuated with these days, and a low hum left him as a welcome.
“I’ll go shower first, the weather’s hot as hell, and I’m stink.”
You tossed the key onto the plate, nonchalantly passed your lover, but Simon could sense the difference in your movements.
“Stop.”
He stood up from the couch, and came straight towards you.
Oh no, you’re so fucked up.
“Hey, Si! I’m dirty! put me down!”
Simon ignored your yelling, scooping you up and over his shoulder.
“Don’t move.”
He demanded, and you swallowed hard when he grabbed your left ankle, and lifted the trouser legs.
“You’re hiding this from me?” His coffee-like brown eyes narrowed in disapproval, throwing you daggers while all you could do was let out a sigh.
“Sorry, Simon. Don’t want to concern you.”
Crooking his eyebrow, Simon darted his eyes back to observe the wound on your left calf. A long, deep cut went across half of your flesh, blood just managed to stop dripping, and fortunately didn’t stick your injury to the clothes.
“Where do you get this?”
“The parking lot of the market. Didn’t see a rock and stumble over it, and the pin sticking out of a wall dug into my leg when I tried to steady myself.” You shrugged.
You knew he was worried and hated to see you get hurt, that’s why you try to sneak to the bathroom and deal with it yourself. Simon’s eyes softened when he learned how you get yourself injured, but you had a feeling that he wouldn’t allow you to do things alone for at least a week.
“let’s go shower.” He picked you up swiftly as if you weighed nothing, and you just melted into his touch.
“You gonna help me?” Even though you knew the answer, you still asked when he strode to the bathroom.
“You think there’s other options?”
“... No.”
“Good Girl.” planting a kiss on your forehead, he kicked open the door.
“Close your eyes, don’t want to sting them, love.”
Your satisfied grumble when his hands attentively scratched your head made Simon chuckle. He put you in the warm bathtub, and the little chair looked comical under his bulky stature, but you didn’t laugh at him this time, instead focusing on his hands.
His hands, working magically through your hair, carefully not to tug your hair with too much strength. The hands that always protect you, the hands that are littered with scars, soaked with blood, but massage your shoulders when you are tired, shuffle your hair when you playfully argue with him, place on your belly when he hugs you from behind and whispered his affection to you.
He reserved all his tenderness to you, and you wondered why you were lucky enough to have this man as yours.
“Told you to close your eyes, love.”
You smiled when Simon finally discovered you had been staring at him from the start.
“Am I not allowed to watch my beautiful husband?”
“Don’t complain when the sud run into those pretty eyes then.” He huffed out a laugh.
When it came to you, he just couldn’t do anything but surrender to your adorable cheekiness. He thought when he couldn’t help but give your cheek a peck.
You sat on the edge of your bed now. Simon had dry your hair, and made you put on your underwear and his black shirt.
He was kneeling in front of you now, picking through the gauze and disinfectant. He seemed to find all the things he needed. Placing them aside, he took your ankle in his hand again.
“It’ll hurt a bit.”
He traced circles on your thigh to soothe the pain when he sprayed the antiseptic on your wound and waited for it to dry.
“You’re doing well, love. We’re almost finished.”
He cooed when he saw you blinked away a tear hanging on the corner of your eye.
Nodding, you watched him cover the wound with gauze and secure it.
“Thank you, Si.”
You chanted softly when his thumb caressed on the tape. Simon didn’t let go of your ankle when you thanked him, but landed a kiss beside the gauze.
“A spell for faster healing” The childish glints in his eyes were obvious when he lifted his head to meet your eyes.
“Don’t know you’re such a romantic person, baby.” You poke his cheek with a laugh.
“Guess there’s more of me yet for you to figure out.
He threw the bottles back into the medkit, and finally stood up after kneeling for ten minutes.
“Anything you want now, princess?”
“cuddle with me, Simon. The wound hurts.”
“Who’s the one trying to hide it thirty minutes ago?”
Lying on your back on the bed, his blonde hair shined under the light, but not brighter than the languid smirk he wore on his lips.
“Are you saying you don’t want to cuddle with me now?”
“Are there other options?”
“of course not, handsome.” You worm yourself into the comforter, and beckoned him to join you.
Slump down on the bed, he wiggled himself into his usual cuddling posture, arms snaked around your waist, and covered your belly with his palm.
“Anything for you, love.” You felt he kissed the shell of your ear when your eyes closed under the coziness.
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bi-writes · 3 months ago
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Hi, you mentioned MOB and Simon do movie nights. What kind of movies do you think they'd watch together? I can picture him stomaching a cheesy rom com because he knows how much she loves them but I can also kind of imagine her surprising him by choosing something like a horror movie. I'm probably way off base. Idk why and this might just be me but I find that certain horror movies put me in a bit of a cozy mood lol
mail-order bride
"simon, did you get the popcorn?"
you hear what sounds like a grunt in response. you keep rummaging through the cabinet on your toes, frowning, pushing aside the cartons of stock and bags of rice as you look for the box he supposedly picked up.
"simon--?"
you jump when you feel two big hands on your waist. you gasp when he drags you backwards, pressing your ass against his front, reaching up over you as he slides the corn starch aside to pick out the box you were looking for. he drops it into your hands, giving the side of your neck a warm kiss before pulling away.
"you put it up there on purpose," you giggle, turning around to face him. he makes a face, feigning ignorance, and he puts a hand over his chest.
"dunno wot y'r talkin' about, luv," he mutters, touching your chin gently. "did y'pick a film?"
you nod, and he takes the box from your hands.
"mmm. i'll get it ready for ya. you get it started on the telly," he nods his head behind him. you give his cheek a light kiss before making your way behind him. you curl up on the couch, throwing a blanket over your legs. you watch as the cat slinks into the room from the corner of your eye, padding into the kitchen where she smells the popcorn. when simon comes back into the room, she's following him closely, staring up at the bowl in his hands as he takes a seat next to you.
he glares down at the cat as she takes a seat in front of his legs. she hops up onto the coffee table, sitting on the edge, and she blinks as he snarls at her, putting a piece of popcorn in his mouth and crunching down on it rather obnoxiously as if to taunt her.
"wot are we watchin'?" simon asks finally as you click the remote. you lean your back against one side of him, settling the blanket over both of you as you reach into the bowl and take a few pieces of popcorn.
"terrifier."
"ya wanna watch somethin' scary?" he chuckles, raising a brow. "didn't think ya'd fancy somethin' so..."
"so what?" you smile up at him, turning your head. "gory? you should know, i happen to appreciate low budget, indie films that feature lots of blood. besides, i heard people literally got sick from the second one, so we have to catch up."
simon snorts, bopping your nose with his thumb.
"y'r bloody hilarious, baby," he mutters, nudging his nose against yours. you put a hand on his chest and push him backwards, giggling.
"oh, no," you warn him, shaking your head. "we're not doing this again."
"doin' wot?"
"we haven't finished a single film in the last few weeks because you can't keep yourself off," you laugh, turning back to the tv.
"don't know wot y'r talkin' about," he murmurs, his eyes honed in on your mouth. the curve of it, how you wet it with your tongue, the cherry gloss that's still lingering from when you put it on earlier.
you lean up a little, whispering against his lips, "i mean..." you kiss him softly, "like last night..."
he chases you when you pull away, his breaths heavy as he stares down at the low neckline of your shirt, the peek of the bra he nearly tore off of you just a few hours ago. he meets your eyes, humming.
"mmm..." simon licks his lips, "fuckin' hell..."
you smile, big eyes, all soft.
"i really, really wanna watch it, simon," you whisper. "can you do that for me? pretty please?"
simon sighs, scrunching his nose a little before nodding his head.
"woteva y'want, baby. can have woteva y'want."
you crunch on more popcorn as you turn your head around. simon throws his arm around you, pulling you closer, and he narrows his eyes as the cat jumps onto the couch beside him. he relents finally, picking off a small piece of popcorn and setting it down in front of her.
simon nearly throws the entire bowl when she merely sniffs it and walks away.
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luveline · 2 months ago
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hello might i ask for sassy badass reckless reader who is the #1 leading cause of aaron's gray hairs pls 🤞🏻 he is SO exasperated with her like he is TIRED™ but also tweaking bcs he's horrendously down bad for her he's gna throw up
Good morning. I hope you slept well, honey. Can you come to work early, say 6.10AM? I’d like to see you and talk about something in person. 
You squint at the text that’s just come through. Another follows as you’re finishing, lighting the dark of your room.
I love you. Sorry, I know you don’t like when I forget to tell you in the mornings. 
Your own response is sent without propriety. I love you too handsome. 6.10 is not gonna work.
Can you make an effort for me? he asks. 
You do your very best. 
“It’s almost seven,” Hotch says when you finally get there that morning, his frown audible and plain to see. 
You hold up the bag of sugar donuts you’d purchased from the truck on the square just outside of Quantico’s endless parking lots. “Necessary delay.” 
“Unnecessary. I asked you nicely to come early and you’re barely on time,” he grumbles. 
How adorable. You put the bag of donuts on the desk and ignore the paperwork laid out waiting for you in favour of his side of the desk. He smells like cedar, his suit sleeve starched under your hand. You lean back against the lip of his desk and pretend you hadn’t been thinking about climbing into his lap —he’s formidable and lovely and that’s the best combination for lounging about atop someone, especially when that someone is very good at pressing you backwards, and better at kissing your neck. 
He knows what you’re thinking. “You’ve woken up in a mood,” he murmurs. 
“A good one,” you promise. 
You take his coffee and steal a sip. Hotch, resigned, lays a hand on your thigh. “I have important things to talk about, you know? I thought I made that clear this morning.” 
“You made a couple of things clear.” 
“Don’t say it like that.” 
“Like what?” 
“Like I…” He tilts his head to the side. “Like I’ve been sending you dirty texts or photos.” 
“Is that an option? I don’t think I’ve subscribed to those emails.” 
“You make me out to be this salacious lark–”
“Aaron, I don’t do anything of the sort.” You can hardly hold back a laugh. “I’m sorry I implied you were sexting me, okay? I wish you had been.” He sighs a long-suffering sigh as you carry on. “But you were very formal. I’ll be sure to tell HR the same thing.” 
His hand slips between your thighs. Nowhere it shouldn’t be, just trapped between soft flesh. “Don’t tell HR anything.” 
His coffee is lukewarm and unsweetened on your tongue. Would it kill your uptight love to add just a dash of cream and sugar? Wrinkling your nose, you set aside the mug and press your mildly heated hand to his cheek. Just quickly, brushing a thumb up to the skin below his eye before you let it fall. “Tell me what you wanted me to come in early for. And, for the record, I’m sorry for not trying to get here before, just I didn’t sleep well, and my neck hurt too much to rush.” 
He looks like he wants to ignore your apology. He doesn’t ask you for much, and showing up when he’d wanted you to would’ve been the kinder thing to do —he can be annoyed as both boss or boyfriend. 
But he doesn’t have it in him. 
“Why didn’t you sleep?” he asks softly. 
“Thinking too much about my nice boyfriend.” 
“Really?” 
You slouch a little. Cover his hand where it rests between your legs. “I don’t know. It was really hot, and my mattress is getting old, probably.” 
He ushers you down for a sympathetic kiss. He’s always so sorry to hear about your minor ailments, he must like you too much. 
You attempt to crawl into his lap, curling an arm behind his head. He, disgruntled and yet far from reluctant, lets you take a seat. 
1K notes · View notes
bloodibambiidoll · 2 months ago
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Nasty Girl ⟡˖ Older!Rafe Cameron x Perv!Reader ⟡˖
✰ Rafe is an arrogant dick, over a decade older than you and your dad’s boss, you shouldn’t want anything to do with him. So why can’t you stay away? ✰
۶♡ৎ This is a request from my angel @babygorewhore I love you sm, this one’s for you pookie ۶♡ৎ
✰ Age gap (Rafe is early 40s reader is mid 20s), Obsessive behaviors, perverted acts involving panties, gagging, choking, spit kink, daddy kink, unprotected sex, pussy slapping, pillow humping, pussy eating, cum eating, size kink 18+MNDI ✰
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You can’t stand Rafe Cameron. And the fact that you’re so obsessed with him only makes you hate him more. No matter how much you hated the way he walked around like he owned the world, or the rotating door of women he brings around, you can’t shake this irresistible pull he has on you. You shouldn’t feel this way, not only is Rafe a huge dick he’s also over a decade older than you and your dad’s boss. It started off small, stealing glances at him every time you visited your dad at work, dressing in your most revealing dresses and skirts to his work events, making off handed comments and brushing past him when there was clearly room to go around. It wasn’t until you caught him in a bathroom with some lanky blonde bent over the counter while noises that resembled a crow left her body that you finally lost it.
You decided to leave the company charity event early, making sure to pass Rafe’s car and leave your tiny pink thong on his side-view mirror. He wouldn’t know they were yours, but he would know that they didn’t belong to the girl he was currently balls deep inside of because you saw her coral thong pushed to the side. After that it was like you couldn’t stop. You started leaving your panties anywhere you’d think Rafe would find them. In his office on his desk or the chair, his car became a favorite, you even managed to loop one around his drink while he wasn’t looking at the country club once. After the first few pairs you started leaving dirty photos of yourself along with them. Not showing your face, of course. Just shots of your ass and tits, always matching the underwear you planned to leave. You thought about maybe just texting or even emailing them to him but your dad gave him both of those things “in case of emergency”. So you decided to do it old school and take photos on your Polaroid. It was sexier that way, anyway.
But you haven’t done anything like what you’re about to do. You’re upstairs with the sound of loud voices all drowned together barely making it through the thick, high floors beneath you. It didn’t take you long to find Rafe’s room. A double door at the end of the long hall with gold ornate knobs was very clearly the master. You also weren’t surprised he had a keypad lock on his door, especially throwing a party like this. Your dad and his coworkers are everyday businessmen to the sivlian eye but behind closed doors they’re into some pretty deep criminal shit. Luckily you already managed to break into his laptop. It was almost too easy, he navigates technology like a grandpa even though he’s only forty. You had a passing thought about teaching him a more efficient way to organize his work laptop but you quickly shut it down. You’re supposed to hate him. Even if you him to fuck you until you can hardly breathe. He had a whole entire document of passwords and key combinations and you may have written all of them down. So you easily slipped inside after entering the numbers on the keypad.
You spent some time looking around and it was about what you expected. Sleek, expensive furniture, no decorations, the white walls bare aside from a random picture of a boat near the window. It's so clean it almost seems like no one lives here but you assume that’s probably due to the cleaners. You go through his drawers, nothing of interest really, unless you count all the clothes you could potentially steal. His bathroom is just as clean as his room and you can’t help but smirk when you notice a full skin care routine sitting on his counter. So vain. But, you can’t deny a man who is invested in his hygiene is extremely sexy. You smell his expensive colognes, his body wash, even his fucking shampoo. You inhale every single one like it’s your drug of choice. Though, you’re sure they smell a million times better on his skin, mixed with his musk.
After spending some time snooping, your focus turns back to the real reason you came in here. You walk into his large walk-in closet and flick on the light. There’s a glass jewelry case in the middle, filled with designer watches, rings, chains, and sunglasses. You approach it and try to pull open the top drawer when you’re met with resistance, you notice another combination lock. But a lightbulb goes off in your head, remembering the key code marked “jewelry case” before pulling out your phone, finding the numbers and unlocking the drawer with a click. The first drawer is, as expected, more jewelry that matches the items in the display case above. The second drawer though, that’s a different story. When you slide it open instead of expensive designer, it’s filled with lace and silk.
Every single pair of your panties you’ve left for him are in this drawer, along with the Polaroids stacked neatly. Upon closer inspection you notice that they’re covered not just in your cum, but his too. It has your pussy nearly dripping, you were already wet from the minute you saw him earlier tonight but now you can feel your slick dripping down your inner thighs, causing them to stick together under your micro dress. You have to practically drag yourself away from the sight of your underwear under lock and key, almost like they’re treasure, covered in a mixture of Rafe's cum and your own.
You look around the rest of the space and the entire span of the closet is lined with his clothes hanging on wracks. One side is clearly business attire and the other is more casual. Though there isn’t a huge difference, you’ve never seen Rafe in jeans and a t-shirt. You can’t decide if the thought is more sexy or comical. It’s hard to imagine him being well, relaxed. You grab a black button up before exiting the closet, undoing the buttons as you go. A thousand dirty fantasies run through your mind as your eyes roam over the king sized bed. But there’s one you can make a reality right now. The whole reason you came in here. You grab one of his silk pillows and wrap his shirt around it before placing it in the middle of the bed. You turn around to grab your Polaroid out of your bag and then crawl onto the mattress, mounting the pillow. You don’t bother taking your fuzzy platform heels off either, he can sleep on the grime from the bottom of your shoes along with the juices from your pussy for all you care.
You start off slow, running your hands along your body, groping your tits through the faux leather of your dress, imagining that they’re Rafe’s much larger hands. It doesn’t take you long to get worked up, your juices starting to make the cloth underneath you slick. You're so wet that when you start to jerk your hips back and forth on the pillow that you practically glide. The lace of your thong gets pulled tighter, adding extra pressure to your puffy clit. Your dress rides up your hips, revealing your ass and the plush of your thighs as your hips start to speed up. Once you start to really get into it you pull your panties to the side and yank the zipper that goes all the way down the front of your dress down your chest so your tits can spill out. You switch up the movement of your hips every few moments, rotating between using the pillow for leverage and running your hands down your body.
You start to get so lost in the throes of pleasure you almost forget where you are entirely until your white sock covered shin smacks against your pink polaroid camera. You smirk to yourself in remembrance as you pluck it from the bed and turn it on. You hold it above yourself while you press your tits together and spread your legs far enough to show your mound on top of his shirt and snap a photo. You take more than one this time, using almost the entire roll taking pictures of your body from various angles. You shove your fingers in your mouth. Take photos of your tiny thong string nestled between your ass. You even take one with his shirt held up between your teeth. That ends up being the last photo because the smell of his cologne hits your nostrils and it has you inhaling deeply while your hips start to subconsciously grind down again.
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Rafe practically felt like a madman as he tried for the fifth time in the last twenty minutes to get out of this conversation with your father and their business partner. Every single time he tried to slip away he was pulled back in somehow. But that didn’t stop his eyes from traveling to the tantalizing view on his phone screen every ten seconds. He felt like a cat who caught a mouse it’s been chasing for months. All without even trying. You lead yourself into a trap he didn’t even set and it couldn’t be more fucking perfect. The fact that you had no idea that his entire house was bugged with cameras that he could see directly in the palm of his hand made his cock twitch. Rafe checked his phone the minute he got the notification that someone was unlocking his bedroom door, ready to send security up there to grab a thief. But he was oh so pleasantly surprised when he saw it was you. You weren’t like any of the other girls he’s ever seen in all his time living on this island. Your platform shoes and dark make-up were utterly enticing to him and your bratty attitude made him want to bend you over his knee until you cried. He also knew you were a naughty girl, with a dirty little secret only he knew. Rafe’s obsession for you only grew by the day and now it was at an all time high.
He decided to let it play out for a bit. He watched as you surveyed his blank walls and rummaged through his drawers. Then you made your way into the bathroom and he watched as you greedily inhaled his colognes and body washes. You went into his closet and somehow unlocked his jewelry case. He’d have to figure out how you managed to learn his key codes later. His heartbeat sped up when you reached for the second drawer but the way you looked down at the trophies you had ever so graciously gifted him with elation only made his appetite for you nearly unbearable. What really sent him over the edge though was how you were currently strandling his pillow as you bucked your hips with his shirt held to your nose.
The entire scene had him losing his mind with lust and you just kept taking it further. He watched you pull your tits out, the way you took all those slutty pictures for him and he wished more than anything in the world he could turn his phone up to full volume so he could hear the pretty little moans leaving your lips. He could tell from the avid speed of your hips and the way your eyes are rolled back that you’re close to your end and he’ll be damned if he isn’t there to see it. He finally excuses himself under the guise of having to go to the bathroom and slips up the large staircase with ease.
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You're so close. The pace of your hips is so quick that the entire bed shakes underneath you as delicious euphoria is seconds away. You have the corner of Rafe’s shirt grasped tightly in your fist as you hold it up to your nose. The cloth is pulled taunt against your clit just right, drool drips down your chin onto the black material as you take in Rafe’s scent. Heat washes over you and you moan with reckless abandon, too lost in your tidal wave of an orgasm to care if anyone can hear you.
“I knew you were a dirty girl, but this is even better than anything my mind ever could’a dreamed up…” The sound of Rafe’s voice makes you practically scream and you clutch his shirt over your chest on instinct. Your entire body heats as you take in his large form leaning against the closed bedroom door. His arms are crossed and he has probably the most smug smirk you’ve ever seen in your life painted on his face as he looks over at you through hooded eyes.
“Rafe! I - aren’t you supposed to be hosting a party?” You scoff and roll your eyes, clearly trying to change the subject when you’re the one who broke into his room.
“Well… you see…” Rafe stalks over to you like a predator that caught his prey and stops at the end of the bed. He places his large hands on the mattress so he can lean down only inches from your face, his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip as his eyes travel down your body before connecting with your own. “This little unassuming mouse wandered into my den without even considering that I have eyes on every inch of this house.”
“How - how long have you been watching?” You clutch onto the shirt tighter, hiding your boobs and bare pussy even though he’s already seen both on multiple occasions. Something about him knowing it was you was making you suddenly nervous.
“Oh, sweetheart, I get a notification when someone opens that door… I saw everything. What do we have here?” His eyes are blue fire as they land on the Polaroids and he picks one up with delight before picking up another and another until he’s seen every single one. He sets them aside in a neat stack before abruptly gripping onto the shirt covering you and ripping it down your body with a growl. You gasp in surprise and use your arms to cover your nipples while slamming your legs shut. “Oh, no, none of that. Don’t get all shy on me now, I’ve already seen it all.” Rafe grabs the pillow and pulls it from underneath you causing you to fall backwards on the bed onto your ass. “Would you look at that…” He looks down at the pillow with hungry fascination as a low groan rumbles through his chest. You watch as he runs the pad of his finger through the creamy wetness before bringing it to his mouth and holding eye contact with you as he sucks it between his lips. His eyes immediately roll back when your taste hits his tongue. “Fuckin’ delicious. But I’m always tastin’ you secondhand.. I can’t wait to taste that sweet pussy directly from the source.”
You’re utterly stunned for a moment. You look up at him with your jaw hanging open while you do your best to cover your most intimate parts when all you want to do is throw your legs open and fully submit to him. You always told yourself if he ever caught you that you would make him work for it. But with the way he’s looking at you now? You can already feel yourself slipping and he hasn’t even touched you yet.
“Who - who said I was going to let you taste me? And what do you mean secondhand?” You tried to say it in a biting tone but your voice squeaks and betrays your facade immediately.
“Oh, little mouse… this little back and forth we’ve been playing has been fun and all. But now you’ve wandered right into my bed and I’m done playing games.” Rafe abruptly grabs onto your ankles, pulling you down to the edge of the bed until your feet are dangling off and you try to pull your knees together again but he grips onto them and pulls them back open. “Quit hiding from me.”
His hands grip tightly onto the meat of your thighs, the gold rings on his fingers pinching your skin in a way that has you holding back a moan. The look in Rafe’s eyes is nearly animalistic as he stares down at your puffy, wet pussy. Your little black thong pushed to the side, covered in creamy, white juices. His fingertips travel down your legs gripping hard enough to bruise with every inch. He brings his thumbs to the crevices of your thighs and presses his fingers hard on either side of your folds, pushing your pussy lips together. You can’t hold in the tiny mewl that leaves the back of your throat. He punches your slick cunt together roughly a few times before pulling you apart. Your pussy clicks for him from your wetness as he pulls you open.
“Been waiting for this moment, ya know?” Rafe runs his thumb along your slit, gathering your wetness before bringing his thumbs to rub along the sides of your lips, teasing you. “I knew it was you. I had my suspicions from the beginning. Ever since you walked in on me in the bathroom…”
“How?” Your voice is a broken whisper, any thoughts of fighting back slipping further and further from your mind. Embarrassingly enough, you feel like you could come from just this.
“Well, I was almost positive after that cute little cherry thong…” Rafe grazes over your clit for just a moment before going back to teasing you. “Earlier that day you were wearing these sexy little jeans and when you bent over I got a view of that same thong. Then, to my surprise, the very same pair ended up in my office later that day.” He presses hard on your clit, giving it a few strokes and you think his teasing has finally come to an end but as soon as it’s there, it’s gone. And he goes back to teasing your pussy tantalizingly. “But then, about a week later I saw you sneaking out of my office and I decided to let you get away with it.”
“You decided?” You push yourself up on your elbows and scoff with your eyebrow raised, your irritation with him returning. Rafe just smirks before shoving his thumb knuckle deep in your pussy and curving it against your walls. It makes your eyes roll back while you wriggle underneath him.
“Yes, princess, I decided.” His other thumb presses on your clit hard but doesn’t move. “Once I was positive it was you, I wasn’t ready for it to stop. Especially once you started leaving those little pictures for me. Who knew you were such a dirty slut.” He pulls his fingers from you before landing a harsh smack on your clit causing you to yelp.
“So you knew it was me and didn’t say anything? And then proceeded to keep them in a treasure box and jerk off all over them? Pervert.” Rafe slaps your pussy again, three times in succession.
“Stop being a fuckin’ brat. If I’m a pervert, what does that make you, huh?” He slaps your pussy even harder and then brings both of his hands down on your inner thighs with a loud smack. “Leaving me your panties, takin’ dirty photos for me, I saw you inhaling my cologne like it was a line of coke. And now I caught you in my bed, coming all over my pillow. You’re a nasty. Little. Girl.” He punctuates each word with a slap to your cunt and you can’t help but moan loudly for him.
“Yeah? Well you’re a nasty old man.” Your chest heaves but you still manage to paint a cheshire smirk on your face, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you use the last of your resolve against him.
“You know what? I’m sick of your bratty fuckin’ mouth.” Rafe grips onto the thin strings of your panties and pulls them down your legs before balling them up and shoving them in your mouth. The sudden intrusion makes you gag, but it’s not unwelcome. The act of dominance and the taste of yourself on your tongue has any and all attitude in you evaporating from your body. He grabs your chin and roughly shakes your head side to side. “That’s better. You gonna be a good girl and let me taste that perfect cunt now or do I need to beat the attitude out of you?”
You moan around the lace in your mouth and drop your knees to the sides, offering yourself to him. Rafe looks at you devilishly as he lays on his stomach on the mattress and throws your legs over his shoulders. He runs his nose along your inner thigh as he takes in your sweet scent before hovering over your pussy and inhaling deeply.
“Smell so fuckin’ sweet, bet you taste even sweeter.” The flat Rafe’s runs through your folds up to your clit before circling it a few times. He nips it with his teeth and shoves his tongue as far as it can go inside of you causing you to cry out and arch your back off the mattress.
“Quit wiggling.” Rafe growls into your pussy, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. His large hand splay on your hip, holding you down as he eats you like a man starved. He circles two fingers at your entrance before pressing them knuckle deep inside of you. He caresses your sweet spot while sucking your clit into his mouth and it has an explosion of pleasure washing over your body as your orgasm consumes you.
Rafe pulls off of you when you come down from your high and brings the fingers that were just inside you to his chin dripping with your juices. He smears it around before sucking his fingers clean, groaning like he just ate the best meal of his life. He leans forward and plucks the panties from your mouth before slamming his lips against yours. The kiss is dominating and he shoves his tongue deep into your mouth, swirling it around and coating your taste buds with your own cum. He leans back to admire you and he feels like his cock is going to burst. Your hair is a mess, your dark lipstick is smudged and slick, and the zipper on that tight little dress is barely hanging on. Your tits are on full display as you lay like a perverted little angel with your legs spread beneath him.
“God damn. I’ve gotta fuck that pussy, baby.” Rafe pulls the zipper of your dress the rest of the way down before leaning up on his knees and reaching for the buttons on his shirt. “Take that shit off. Leave the socks and shoes though.”
He licks his lips as he continues to unbutton his shirt while his eyes practically swallow you whole. You quickly rid yourself of your dress and push yourself up onto your knees to watch him undress. You have to stop yourself from jumping him when he gets his shirt all the way off, his perfectly toned body towering over you. When he gets his pants down enough to get his cock out you can’t even hold in your gasp. He’s huge. So thick you aren’t sure you could wrap a single hand around him and so long that you aren’t sure if you could take him all down your throat.
“Fuck. I don’t know if that’s going to fit…” Your eyes are the sizes of saucers as you stare at his cock with your jaw slack. Those words make Rafe feel like he’s going to go insane and his hand flies to your hair, grasping onto it at the nape of your neck and yanking your head back.
“Oh, it’ll fit.” His tongue slides over his teeth and he takes his shaft in his hand so he can rub his precum along your lips, adding to the mess. Rafe uses his grip on your head to manhandle you onto your back before throwing your legs over his shoulders. He smirks down at you while he pumps himself in his hand. “You want it?”
“Yes, fuck. I want it so bad.” You tilt your hips towards him searching for any kind of friction but his hand presses down on your hip, stilling your movements.
“Oh, come on, baby doll. You can do better than that. How bad do you want it?” He taps the head of his cock against your clit a few times before running it through your folds. You try to angle your hips to push him further inside of you and he just tuts at you like you did something naughty before pulling his cock away entirely. “Let me hear it, beg.”
“Please, daddy, I want it so bad.” Rafe breathes out heavily through his nostrils and grips onto your throat, leaning down so his face is inches from yours.
“Oh, little mouse.. you’re just full of surprises, huh? I don’t think you know what you’ve done.” Rafe chuckles darkly and leans back up onto his knees, positioning his cock at your entrance. He presses his head into you and he’s so thick you already feel so full by the time he’s only a few inches in.
“Oh, god. I don’t - I really don’t know if it’s all going to fit.” The air is nearly taken out of your lungs when he thrusts his hips forward and you’re sure he’s all the way inside of you now but he pulls almost all the way out before slamming his cock into you to the hilt with his hips flush against yours. “Holy shit, oh my god.”
“I thought you wanted it so bad, now you’re whining that it won’t fit? I’m gonna fuckin’ make it fit and you’re gonna take it like the dirty little slut you are.” Rafe rams his hips into yours at a brutal pace as he grips onto your throat again and squeezes tightly. His free hand comes to rub circles on your clit and it makes your vision blur. “Yeah fuckin, take it. You gonna come for me? I can feel your pussy squeezing me. You’re so fuckin’ tight.”
“Yes, fuck daddy, please make me cum.” Your voice is a broken sob as your makeup smears messily down your face. “I’m so fucking full.”
“Yeah, that’s right, sweet thing. Give me your cum.” That’s all it takes to have an all consuming orgasm washing over you. Your walls convulse around Rafe’s thick length and he picks up his thrusts, chasing his own high. He uses his grip on your throat to press you down into the mattress and your legs fall down onto his hips. You lace them around him and this new angle has him hitting so deep you swear you’re going to feel him for days. The hand not on your throat hooks onto your bottom teeth, pulling your jaw open so he can spit on your tongue. You swallow without asking and then suck his fingers into your mouth greedily.
“You’re so fuckin’ nasty, ya know that? Letting your dad’s boss fuck you till you cry while he’s right down stairs. Leaving me your little fuckin’ panties. This perfect god damn pussy.” Rafe is babbling like a man possessed as he pumps into you hard and deep until his cock starts to twitch inside you. He growls as he fills you with ropes of his cum. When he pulls out you feel nearly hollow and then he shoves his fingers knuckle deep inside of you, collecting some of his cum on his fingers. You pull his hand back to your mouth and lick his fingers, moaning at your combined tastes.
“Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you, little mouse.” Rafe stares down at you with a hunger that’s laced with obsession and you don’t even care because you’re just as obsessed as he is. “You’re mine now.”
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Taglist: @nemesyaaa @strawberrydolly333 @sturnioloshacker @loserboysandlithium @gri959 @rafeinterlude @xoxohoneymoongirl @tacymbcm @bunnies-p1tst0p @starkeysprincess
Dividers by @anitalenia
1K notes · View notes
puck-luck · 4 months ago
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change-up | luke hughes
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warnings: unprotected p in v, creampie, oral f!receiving, multiple orgasms, squirting, dirty talk, praise praise praise, fingering & masturbation, references to prior & future hookups, hookup culture, TW: hinge😩, mentions of size difference pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader summary: “because of how shy luke was when he first met reader, she thinks that he’s going to be inexperienced in bed and she‘ll to have to take the lead..but really lukey absolutely ruins her”, “could I please request luke Hughes smut where he loves being so much bigger than you”, “LOVEEDD the luke hughes one def write more dom stuff” wc: 4382
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“Do you, maybe, want to go back to mine?” Luke asks quietly, his lips a mere nudge against the shell of your ear. Even in the loud bar, his voice cuts through the chatter like a flash of light. 
You’d only met Luke earlier that night, a Hinge date gone right for you and your best friend. When Luke had invited you out to the bar he was at with some of his teammates, your best friend had jumped to point out that this could be your Kylie Kelce moment– you had to go and meet your Jason, even though Luke didn’t resemble the football player at all. Not that you minded.
You consider his words– Luke’s arm is thrown over your shoulder comfortably. His body is warm against yours. He’s been pretty shy all night, quiet enough that you felt like you had to control the conversation, but while Luke was in the bathroom, one of his buddies had revealed that that was normal for Luke. He was a quiet boy around new people– it didn’t mean he didn’t like you.
Clearly, it didn’t mean he didn’t like you. If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t be inviting you back to his apartment. You’re not a fool. You know what that means. 
Regardless, you agree. “Sure,” you say with a smile. 
Luke returns the smile, leaning over you to gesture towards the bartender. He closes his tab, which houses both his and your drinks. You each had only had two drinks, so you’re feeling tipsy, but not drunk enough to stop what’s about to happen.
Once Luke has closed out, he guides you to his car and opens the door in a gentlemanly way for you. The ride to his home is silent save for the country music playing from the radio. Luke’s hand rests on your knee, a weight that has you squirming.
As shy as he is, you’ve come to realize that Luke’s love language is easily physical touch. He’s been sweet when he speaks with you, and he paid for all of your drinks, which kept words of affirmation and gift giving in the running for a while, but he’s kept a hand on you all night. 
He had seemed hesitant to do so, playing it safe by touching your arm or your knee or your shoulder. When you hadn’t shrugged him off, but rather presented him with a smile and a lean into his heat, Luke had become more sure with it.
You don’t know anything about his sex life or how experienced or inexperienced he is, but you expect that you’ll have to do the same thing in bed. You’ll have to reassure him that yes, you actually want to do this, and you actually like this. He’ll want to make sure he’s being good for you, because he’s the sweetest, but if you’re honest, you’re a little disappointed that you’ll have to take the lead.
One of the reasons why you had matched with Luke on Hinge, aside from how cute he was, was that he looked like an athlete. You’ve always been someone who likes to be overpowered a bit, liking someone bigger than you, and Luke looked like he could throw you around easily. You wanted him to do so, but that just doesn’t seem like it’s in the cards tonight, and you can accept that. You’ll hook up with someone else who will toss you around eventually– but Luke is too pretty and too kind to pass up.
When he pulls into the garage and parks, Luke rounds the car and opens your door for you. He leads you by the hand into his apartment. Your purse slips down your arm and, once inside the apartment, Luke takes it from you and hangs it on a hook near his front door. 
The apartment is still dark and you find yourself distracted trying to look at his furniture through the shadows. Giving up, you turn back to face Luke with a smile on your face. 
Shockingly, he’s already moving toward you. 
Luke pushes you against the wall, his hands on your hips. He’s kissing you, swallowing your noise of surprise. You’re frozen against him for just a moment, caught off guard by his insistent movements and confident grip on your sides. You melt into his touch when his presence finally registers, the catalyst being Luke’s fingers shifting to tug at the belt loops on your jeans. You place your forearms on his shoulders, crossing your wrists behind his head. 
Luke pulls your hips against his, pressing into you with his growing length. He’s leaning over you, causing your shoulders and head to rest against the wall while your back and hips arch into him. Smoothly, he steps forward and moves one of his hands so he’s bracketing your head. 
His tongue flexes when he enters your mouth, his muscle sliding against your own. You melt even further against him, moaning against his lips. You sag against the wall and Luke’s strong hands catch you, holding you upright. 
His fingers roam along your skin, eventually resting on the swell of your ass. He squeezes your cheeks harshly, grunting in appreciation as your bottom fills his large hands. Luke lifts you up and you wrap your legs around his waist, sitting prettily with your clothed core barely brushing his cock. You grind down against him, and Luke’s mouth curves in a smile, lips still touching your own. 
“Eager,” he mumbles, sounding smug. 
“Happily surprised,” you correct, words muffled and interrupted by your kisses. “I thought you’d be shy.”
“Mm, not when we’re alone,” Luke hums, holding you with one hand around your waist. He starts to march down the dark hallway, pushing open his bedroom door with a bang. “Not when I’m so close to getting what I want.”
Luke gently lays you on his bed, hands splayed across your back. He’s still kissing you, adamant and consistent. Now, he’s got gravity on his side. His body is covering your own, trapping you against the soft mattress. A soft curse leaves your mouth, filling Luke’s. You’re sharing the air between yourselves, aching for the other person.
“What do you want?” You ask, one of your hands finding his curls and toying with the strands. 
Luke groans, parting from you to nuzzle against your neck as you continue to scratch against his scalp. He mouths over your neck messily, his tongue painting your skin like long brush strokes across a canvas. 
“Want to mark you up,” Luke mutters, nipping at your neck. He sucks the fleshy skin at the base of your neck between your clavicles. “I want you to remember this night.”
You moan, curling a hand along his collar and pulling at the t-shirt adorning his body in an entirely unnecessary way, in your opinion. You expose his collarbone, sharp and smooth all at once, but you don’t get to reap the rewards. 
Luke instead just chuckles and bats your hand away, capturing it in his own. He presses your wrist into the mattress above your head, exposing you further. “I want to make sure you think about me for weeks.” Luke feeds the promise to you with a swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip and a tiny nibble along the same path. “That every time you get yourself off, you think about how my fingers would be better than your own, or that my cock would fill you better than any toy you own, or any other boy you find.”
You knew that this would be a hook-up sort of thing, nothing more serious because Luke’s Hinge profile clearly stated he wasn’t looking for anything long term, but his possessive tone fuels a fire in you that has you whining and tugging his hair.
He shifts your hand to join the other, his fingers gripping both of your wrists while his other hand starts to explore your body. He dances over the curves of your breasts, along your elongated stomach. Your ribs are prominent and your stomach is flatter with your back against the bed– and Luke touches your skin like you’re precious to him. For a first night together, you already feel so seen. 
After caressing your skin, Luke pulls your shirt up and bundles the fabric near the base of your neck, revealing your little lacy bralette to him. He licks along the band, going from your neck down the V of your chest, then back up to your other shoulder. You watch his nose bump against your curves and your jaw slackens a bit with the possibilities that are running through your head.
You’d give anything to get his mouth on your clit, already swollen and pulsing with faux-lightning shocks from each of Luke’s touches. 
“Eat me out,” you say, a push in the right direction. Boys like when girls speak their mind, right?
Luke stills, his lips hovering above your sternum. You watch him smirk, then resume his kissing, sweet wet pecks marking the space where your breasts meet. “Lost your manners?” He finally asks, pulling away from your body to remove your shirt. He leaves it tangled along your wrist, wrapping it a few times and tucking the end into the band of your watch to secure the fabric in place.
You pout petulantly and Luke slides off the bed, kneeling between your legs that are bent over the side of the bed. He runs a finger along the seam of your jeans, taking extra care to rub his knuckle over your clothed entrance. You keen and he draws his hand up, resting it on your mound with his thumb stationary and heavy against your clit.
“Baby, I want to,” Luke assures you, his thumb lifting up and patting your clit a few times, causing you to jolt. “But I can’t until you ask me nicely.” He starts to rub your clothed clit, up and down in slow movements. He’s peering up at you with wide eyes, blinking like he’s innocent even though he’s driving you crazy.
“Please?” You try, your voice a little squeaky. 
A tiny smile on his face, Luke tilts his head at you. “You can do better than that,” he says, shifting forward to plant a kiss where his thumb rested. “Give it a second try.”
“Please eat me out, Luke,” you say, putting another pout on your face for good measure.
“Better,” Luke teases, trailing off. He reaches for your zipper, dragging it down. He inches the denim down your legs, revealing the panties that you’re practically soaking with your slick. They match your bralette– a purposeful decision that doesn’t do unnoticed by Luke. He thumbs over your clit again, then dips lower to flick over the wet spot staining the fabric. “Keep going. I want you to beg.”
He removes your pants with a kiss to the inside of your knee. His hands move to your thighs, feeling up the skin, keeping you warm in the chilled apartment. His breath passes over your core as he switches sides and you ache for him. It breaks the floodgates and you give him exactly what he wants, falling into that submissive role you’re able to fill so well.
“I need to feel your mouth on me, Luke. I know it’ll be so good– I know you’ll make me feel so good. Fuck, Luke, I want to come on your tongue. Taste me, please, please fuck me with your tongue.”
Luke’s crooked grin returns, his teeth peeking out from behind his lips and glinting at you. “Such dirty words for such a pretty girl,” he teases, but he hooks his fingers along the crotch of your panties and tugs them to the side, revealing your wet folds. He flexes his tongue, pointing it into a solid spear that he uses to spread your lower lips and locate your entrance. “Let’s see how fast I can make you come,” Luke murmurs before diving in and lathering your clit in a wet kiss. 
He pushes your legs apart, using his strong hands to pin your hips to the bed and keep them there. You want to wiggle out from under him and grind against his face, but Luke forces you to relinquish control with his size and strength.
It’s just what you wanted. Whining and tugging at the fabric around your wrists (easily removable, although you choose not to do so), you relax against the mattress and let Luke have his way with you.
He loves it, eating you out like he could do this for hours, like he could die happy between your leg. He’s moaning against you and massaging praise into your skin, all while licking every inch of your cunt. He fucks his tongue into you, he spits along your folds and watches the saliva drip down the crack of your behind before scooping it back up with his tongue and closing his lips around your clit. He leaves you wetter and wetter each time he pulls away, admiring his handiwork from a distance with a slack jaw before locating his next target and assaulting it with his tongue and gentle scrapes of his teeth. The first time he swept his bottom teeth against your clit, you flinched, but it quickly became a moan for more.
You’ve always been a glutton, addicted to toeing the line between pleasure and pain. 
It surprises you that Luke is the same way– although he would prefer to inflict the sensation than receive it. You align perfectly.
The sharp press of his tongue inside you draws a litany of noises from your mouth and it reinvigorates Luke’s efforts, with him flicking the muscle as far as he can within your cunt. He clutches at your skin, reaching under you to envelop both of your ass cheeks in his palms and lift your pussy to meet his face. There’s no room for reprieve, no space between you, and Luke is bullying your core with inconsistent nudges of his nose to your clit. 
“Luke, my clit,” you beg, chest heaving with how badly you yearn for your release. “Please.”
“You can come without that,” Luke replies, licking over the bundle once in consolation before returning to your hole, where you’re leaking fluids. Slick, saliva, and your impending orgasm all find their way onto Luke’s tongue, running down his chin and moistening the bed beneath you. You can feel the sheets growing wet beneath you, but you don’t care. Luke is making you feel even better than you imagined he would. 
You come over his tongue with a series of moans, bringing your still-tied hands down to his hair and tugging at his locks. Luke flicks over clit with quick kitten licks, only stopping when you’re crying out from oversensitivity
Luke kisses up your body, capturing your nipples between his lips over the lace fabric of your bralette, leaving the peaks pointed and cold when his mouth travels further north. 
He brings his lips to yours, ravishing the plush curves until they’re red and bruised. All the while, Luke mumbles praises to you until they blur together and you’re arching your back to feel his torso against yours again.
“You wanna go again?” Luke checks, nibbling on your bottom lip. “Ready to give me another one?”
“Yeah,” you breathe out, nodding and knocking your nose against his. He leans in and gives you a proper Eskimo kiss before pecking you one last time. 
Luke uses his strong hands to maneuver you the way he wants– chest pressed into the bed, ass pulled up and flush with his groin as he kneels behind you. He snaps the band of your bralette against your shoulderblade, then kneads the skin of your hips. 
“Close your eyes, babydoll,” Luke commands in a gentle voice. “I want you to feel this, just focus on feeling me.”
He rolls his hips against your behind, his cock still clothed but poking at the fabric like it’s trying to find its mark and sink into your heat. He pulls you against him and you wiggle your hips, obeying his command and closing your eyes. Your t-shirt fell from your wrists during the repositioning, so you clutch freely at the pillow under your head with one hand and hold your breast with the other. You squeeze the skin, moaning at the pleasure.
Luke brings your attention back to him with a sharp spank, making you yelp and clench down with both of your hands, scrambling for something to ground you. Luke chuckles and spanks you again, harder this time and on your other cheek. 
“Can’t wait to see this ass bounce,” Luke announces, smirking obviously even though you can’t see it. “I’m gonna make sure it’s pretty and pink while I fill your pussy up.”
If your eyes weren’t shut, they’d be rolling in your head at his words. You’re helpless, reduced to a moaning mess beneath Luke. 
You had no idea that the night would turn out like this, having fully expected to push him down and ride him until he came inside of you because he just couldn’t take the pleasure any longer. The tables have turned– now you’re the one leaking beneath him, your hole spread open from his thorough meal and positively waiting for him.
Luke disappears from behind you to remove his shorts, you assume. You keep your eyes closed and you hold your position, hoping your obedience will result in a reward. 
His voice washes over you, warming you like he’s still draped over your shoulder back at the bar. 
“Keep yourself full for me while I grab something, eh?” Luke asks, a prodding question that you’re scrambling to fulfill before he can even finish his sentence. 
Your middle two fingers slide into your hole, a wet squelch pushing a breath of a laugh out of Luke from his distance. You grind against the heel of your hand, spreading your knees for more leverage. 
“Good girl,” Luke coos, making his way back onto the bed. He’s behind you once again, naked, and you wish you could open your eyes and sneak a peek at his cock. You want to see how well endowed he is, feeling him brush against your thigh before a line of spit drips down your crack and crawls toward your hole. 
You fuck yourself on your fingers, hips rocking back. There are whimpers and whines filling the room, sounding needy and desperate for more, and it takes you a minute to realize that the words are muffled into the pillow, falling from your mouth. Biting down on the pillow to silence yourself, you curl your fingers inside yourself, hoping to reach your g-spot. In this position, you fall just short.
Luke’s index finger traces over the valley of your fingers, nearing your entrance. He’s silent, his moves calculated, and his index finger presses into you. He joins your middle and ring finger, his index finger reaching your insides in a way that has you keening. You can feel his fingertips against your nailbeds, then Luke wiggles his finger in further. 
You feel like you actually drip onto the bed when he pets over your g-spot, the spot that you couldn’t find on your own. Your knees are wide and your hips are slowly coming lower and lower. Your body is defaulting to the position in which you’ve gotten off so many times– hips flush against the bed, clit rubbing against your palm as you clench down on your own fingers. 
Luke uses his knee to bring your ass back up to its previous height, swatting at your flesh when you let out a complaint at the loss. Your clit is feeling neglected, practically calling out for pleasure, but the feeling of your fingers– and Luke’s– inside you is too good to take away.
So Luke does it for you. He removes his finger from your heat and digs under your knuckles, removing your digits from their wet home. The loss of contact comes with a devastating empty feeling and Luke soothes you with a cooed praise when you express your discontent. 
He solves the problem by slapping his thick cockhead against your open hole, resting it there until you’re squirming against him and pleas are leaving you with increasing intensity and higher pitch.
“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” Luke murmurs, pinching your skin as a reprimand. “You’ve been so good, listening to me so well. I’m going to reward you, don’t worry. Let me take care of you.”
He inches his cock inside your pussy achingly slow. You can feel every inch of him, every vein rubbing against your walls. You can feel the precum leaking from his slit and mixing with your own wetness. His tip finally nudges at your cervix, kissing the opening with another blurt of precum, and you ache for Luke to fill you up. You wish you were facing him so that he could drop a line of spit onto your tongue in a similar way.
When Luke starts to move, drawing himself out of you then forcing his way back in, all images disappear from your mind. His cock is all you can focus on– the warmth, how it’s pulsing inside of you, how it’s stretching your hole even though you had three fingers inside of it just minutes ago. 
Luke is consistent, fucking into you with hard and sure thrusts that leave you moaning. A puddle of drool is pooling on the pillow and your mouth is nearly constantly open, your tongue dry and breaths ragged. Your noises continue in their high-pitched tone, spurring Luke on. He pounds your pussy, ruining it for everyone else. 
Luke was right. You’d be thinking about him for weeks to come. 
He has you shrieking with each slap to your ass, the skin growing hot and becoming more red with each swat. You had no idea that you could be so loud in bed– you’ve normally got a handle on yourself. Normally, you’re not so wet that each thrust results in a pornographic sound of skin meeting skin. 
Luke is in a league all of his own.
“So tight,” he groans. “‘M gonna come, baby.”
“Come in me,” you beg. “Fuck, Luke, come in me.”
“I will,” he promises. “I want you to come first.”
Your abdomen is tight, burning with the need to release. You feel like you could explode and the thought pops into your head– you’d never been able to before, not with another man nor when fucking yourself, but you bet you could squirt now.
“Can I touch?” You ask, desperate. “Please, wanna touch my clit. Wanna come for you. Wanna be good. Please, Luke, tell me I can.”
“Go on,” he encourages. “Let me feel you.”
It’s like an out of body experience. You have control of your hands, but your fingers feel foreign as they find your clit and start to rub frantic circles over the bundle. Your chest is snug against the bedsheets. You spread your legs even further, needing the space to keep yourself open and feel even wider. Luke notices and loops a hand under your thigh, lifting the leg and holding it up. He’s able to keep you balanced, able to keep you steady as your fingers slide over your dripping cunt.
His grunts and moans spur you on, your back arching. His tip finds your g-spot and abuses it, knocking the air out of you with each bump.
“Luke,” you whine, his name elongated on your tongue.
“I’m here, baby, let go.”
He’s reassuring and calm, so sure behind you and panting. He drapes himself over your back, kissing behind your ear. 
It’s the smooth brush of his lips that sends you over the edge. Your vision, already black, turns into a staticky void that you fall down like you’re skydiving. 
Luke is your parachute, fucking you through the spray of your orgasm and releasing his own seed inside of you. He fills you up with his warmth, fucking you until you’re sagging on the bed and breathing hard, barely able to move. Luke drags his cock out of your cunt and brings some of his come with it, although he promptly plugs you with his fingers and a kiss once he’s turned you over onto your back. 
His fingers are mostly still inside you, slowly pumping in and out in a way that isn’t meant to derive pleasure. He simply wants to feel you. His kisses are soft and sweet, soothing you and bringing you back down to Earth. 
Eventually, you regain control of your limbs. You shift one of your legs over Luke’s hips and cuddle close to him, rolling your hips against his finger. Your tongue slides against his, tasting your first orgasm on his lips. 
The moment dies slowly. You’re both tired, ready to sleep. Luke draws his fingers out of your entrance, pecking your lips one last time. 
“Go pee, baby,” he tells you. “You’re not getting a UTI on my account. I’ll get some PJs for you while you’re gone, then we can take a shower in the morning after I serve you some breakfast in bed.”
“Mmm,” you hum, beaming. You lean up to kiss Luke again. “How’d you get so good at aftercare? Lots of experience?”
“Just want to make sure you’re satisfied,” Luke replies, fondly smiling at you when you roll away and patter towards his ensuite bathroom. He laughs a little as you cringe, the mixture of come seeping out of your hole and dripping down your thighs.
“How about I take a quick shower now and we’ll discuss that breakfast in bed when I’m done?” You tease, already pulling back his shower curtain and turning the nozzles to find your optimum heat. 
“Don’t pee in my shower,” Luke calls, pushing the covers off the bed and gathering the wet sheets to throw in the wash. He’ll put new sheets on the bed while you’re cleaning yourself.
“I’m not!” You deny, affronted. “How dare you assume such a thing?”
The last thing you hear before stepping into Luke’s shower is his cheeky, throaty laugh. You fail to bite back the smile that comes with it.
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coffeeshopguest · 7 months ago
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please i need stardew valley bachelors in a kinky gangbang with gender neutral or female farmer!
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I loved this suggestion but please have mercy, I didn't know which ones you wanted so I did all 6 which was VERY difficult for me to incorporate so I made it sort of cheap in the end to save having to write a whole night of sex with them all 😭 pls enjoy! I'm sorry if it's a little shitty, I've never written or read group sex stuff 😭
The Bachelor's and the Farmer's Night
Word Count: 1569
Pairing: F!Reader x Sebastian, Harvey, Sam, Alex, Shane & Elliott
Warning: 18+, group sex, rope kink, handcuffs, swearing, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, anal mention, oral mention, cum swallowing, light bdsm (choking, spanking), all of it is pretty vague and quickly mentioned except the fingering & vaginal sex
It was Sam's idea. Not that he was gonna openly parade that around to anyone at first. It started as a pathetic fantasy that he would get off on at night, thin walls making him cover his own mouth as he imagined the farmer laying on a bed, tied down, taking it from him and Sebastian over and over. He was ashamed to even incorporate his friend in a fantasy, but the idea of a threesome with the farmer and Sebastian was just...so fucking hot. The idea of watching her get fucked, then fucking her - Sam was a simple man and he nearly came on the spot every single time he imagined it. 
What's worse? He began incorporating the idea of Alex in the mix. He was friendly with Alex - and Sam had seen the farmer interacting with Alex a lot recently. Even throwing around a football with him the other day. Sam didn't immediately think anything of it, until he woke up sweating and hard, having dreamt the farmer and Alex going at it while Sam jacked off and waited for his turn patiently. Slowly, Sam began to think about...what if more people got involved? And oh, god. He finally let it slip to Sebastian. 
"What do you think of that new farmer?" Sam asked as he took a shot for one of the striped balls on the pool table. His voice was even, but his heart was racing a pathetic amount. 
Sebastian leaned on his stick, watching Sam's shot. "She's cute," Sebastian answered. The two made slow eye contact and Sam debated just leaving the whole conversation at that. But something about the way Sebastian stared him down made him crack. 
"Yeah, yeah, she is...uh- you like her?" 
Sebastian took a swig of his drink, nodded a little. "Sure," he said, "why?" 
"How...how do you like her?" Sam gently rested his stick down on the wall, watching his friend. "Like," he began, "sexually...or...?" 
Eyes widening a little, Sebastian tilted his head. "I- we don't usually talk about that kinda stuff," he dismissed, turning his attention to the pool table and ignoring Sam for a moment. 
Sam nodded slightly, before he finally whispered, "I know but I want to...uh..." he glanced around the Saloon to see if anyone was looking towards them. No one was. "I kinda want to...have...some group sex with them." 
Sebastian took a shot, perhaps out of shock, the cue ball launched across the table and sunk a striped ball. He stared down at the table. Quiet. "Just us three or?" 
"Uhm...I was thinking maybe Alex..." 
Sebastian raised his head up, hair falling over his left eye. "The farmer? Did you talk to her?"
 Sam shook his head and Sebastian slowly turned to the table where he'd set his drink aside, grabbing it and gently taking a sip. "Ask her. Tell me when you do."
"You...you're in?" 
Sebastian gave a short nod, and the two acted as though the conversation never even happened. 
▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
When presented with the idea, albeit from a terrified Sam, you agreed immediately. With a condition. You wanted Sam to invite Elliott, Shane, and Harvey. His eyes widened. 
"Six....you want six guys-" you nodded. Sam had to awkwardly adjust his pants, at the mere suggestion of that many guys fucking you he got hard. Just the idea of watching it was too much for him. "I- I'll see what they say." 
▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
To Sam's shock, every single person agreed. He was expecting a sharp no from Shane, but he said yes without a second thought. Harvey stuttered out a "Oh...holy shit...uh- at the farm-?" and blushed madly. Elliott tried to maintain some sort of dignity but by the immediate bulge in his pants Sam guessed his answer before Elliott could recover words and agree. Alex tried to act disgusted at first. But then he mumbled a "can I bring handcuffs and rope?" (Sam asked "dude you live with your grandparents in a small town, why do you even have those?" and was met with a glare). 
So it was arranged, a day and time was set. The six made their way down to the farm, chatting quietly amongst themselves. Sam was hard basically half the day before this, eagerly awaiting the nighttime - when his fantasy would become reality. The farmer answered the door, smiling softly at the six men. "Boys, come on in," she smiled. Sam nearly choked, they were wearing a flannel, opened up, only a bra underneath. Fuck. Fucking christ. She was good at this. 
▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
Upon being brought to the bedroom, Sam gently guided you to lay down, Harvey quickly mumbled "she needs a safe word-" and the rest agreed. Turning their attention to you. Six flushed, eager faces. You felt like prey laying in the bed, flannel opened to expose your bra. A safe word definitely was needed. As much as you wanted to take all six repeatedly you weren't entirely sure how much you could take before you were too used.
"Red light," you murmured out. "Yellow light means give me a break, but I want to keep going." 
And so it began. Sam quickly ripped off the flannel and tossed it aside, then tore the bra off and threw it aside, his hands wandered to your jeans, slowly unzipping them. Your panties exposed, he gently moved his hand down, rubbing softly against the wet spot. You bit your lip, about to moan. Quickly, Sam backed up, Sebastian took one side of the bed and Alex the other. Hands launched to your chest, as Sam gently finished pulling off your pants. A hand on each breast, gently running your ripples through their fingers, you began moaning out loud. Sam got off the bed. 
"Who wants to go first?" he asked, Elliott stepped forward. He gently undid his pants, erection springing out. He gently lined up. 
You bit your lip, before he backed away, "did...anyone bring lube?" Elliott's voice gently asked. It was Harvey who had, gently digging it out of his jacket pocket and handing it over. Elliott gently poured some into his hand, gliding it across your pussy causing you to moan out. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Sam, eagerly jacking off as he watched. Sebastian was still by your side, but his hands had left your body. Elliott gently shoved a finger in. "I'll start slow, you're about to have a hell of a night," he said reassuringly. 
You looked up into his eyes, nodding softly. He smiled, gently leaning down, placing a kiss on your forehead, before be pulled his finger out. "Did that hurt at all?" you shook your head, and he gently shoved two fingers in, letting your body adjust to the feeling, he slowly began pumping them in and out of you. All eyes were on you and you whimpered softly, meeting eyes with Shane who was still fully dressed. 
"Sha- shane-" you mumbled, gasping as Elliott's fingers expertly worked you. "Can- you- strip?" 
A hand gently laced around your neck, "use manners, baby, what do we say?" it was Sebastian's hand, tight grip but just light enough not to hurt. Elliott's fingers effortlessly kept time. 
"Please?" you whimpered, the hand left your neck and Shane slowly began to undo his belt. As soon as he was stripped, Elliott's hands left you, for only a second you had a miserable feeling of emptiness before Shane swapped with Elliott. 
He postioned himself, hands gently gripping your hips as he found where to line up. "Ready?" you nodded, and with one swift thrust he was in you. Lips found your neck, Shane was focused on fucking you. It was Harvey who had knelt beside you, hand gently gliding down your body to your tit's. Lips on your neck, sucking and leaving a hickey. 
Shane grunted, speeding up more. "Fuck- tight...gonna-" 
"Not in her," Sam whimpered, you had forgotten Sam was still here, in the corner of the events jacking off. "We can't all...not in her." 
To describe the events would be tiring and long and endless. They took turns, spilling themselves over your naked body, in your ass, in your mouth. Alex was partial to rough sex, Sam into watching, Harvey wanted to pleasure you however you asked, Shane was focused solely on his own quick finish, Sebastian wanted to tie you down with Alex's ropes when he fucked you and choke you out, Elliott was gentle and soft and sweet and placed kisses on your forehead as you took their dicks over and over and over. 
In the end, the sun rose when you guys finally ended the session. You had given several sessions of head. Taken fingers, fists, and dicks. Been tied down, choked, spanked, had your hair pulled. And each of them had asked for something the others hadn't. Sam begged to finish by jacking off onto your naked body. Sebastian wanted your lips wrapped around his cock when he finished. Alex, he was the one who dug out a condom so he could feel your pussy tighten around him as he came inside you. 
When the session ended, you simply told all of them. "We're doing this again." 
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cashmoneyyysstuff · 10 days ago
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HELLOOO idk if ur requests are on rn so take ur time with this request and get to it at ur own time but i was wondering if u could make a short one shot fic abt reader who is in a relationship with katsuki and is at home while he's out in patrol and she sees his location with life 360 and sees that he's beside some sort of restaurant or supermarket so she texts him smth like
i see ur beside the ramen place i like can u buy dinner tonight 😊
AND THEN KATSUKI IS JUST 🤬🤬🤬 WTF HOW DO U KNOW WHERE I AM ARE U OUTSIDE RN
all lighthearted and funny :))
THANK UUU SO MUCHH 💞💞
LMFAOOOO thjs js so funny😭😭😭 tysm for this ask i hope i did it some justice :33 hope you’re still stickin around to read it anon ! Short lil drabble, much luv xx
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“since you’re by that ramen place i like you can get some for dinner 💋💕”
“ ? what the fuck”
“?? where are you.”
“?”
before you can send another text message, your phone lights up with your boyfriend’s caller id, you giggle.
“hi, baby.”
“where the fuck are you at ?”
you snort, readjusting on your sofa “what are you talking about ?” you ask teasingly.
you catch the sound of people talking as you hear katsuki grumbling to himself “i don’t see you.”
you giggle, kicking your legs a little “and why would you need to see me ?”
katsuki groans, already exasperated and growing more and more impatient, you’re surprised he hasn’t started cursing your entire bloodline yet “quit it with that mysterious bullshit, how do you know where i’m at.”
and just to mess with him, you respond “i see you.”
it’s quiet on his end for a moment, aside from the chatter on the street “yn. i’ll fucking kill you.” you throw your head back and laugh “once i find you, you’re done for. your ass is grass.”
“i like it when you talk dirty to me.” you joke, he scoffs hard on the other end “freak.” you hear him mumble, you giggle some more.
“i’m at home, just saw your location and decided to ask you to get me some food.”
“get you some food.” he bites, scoffing in disbelief.
“us, get us some food. pretty please, suki ?” you use your sweetest voice, maybe he might even be able to imagine your puppy dog eyes through the phone.
he laughs sarcastically “right. what makes you think you deserve to get anything after that little stunt you pulled, huh ?”
you pout, whining so he knows you are “i was just kidding, was jus’ a little jokey-joke.” you can’t help but tease him a bit more.
“yeah, my ass.” you snort loudly, laughing and the huff he lets out clearly lets you know he’s not amused, you can see him rolling his eyes at your antics.
“we’ll see.” is the answer he graces you with. you squeal, cus you know that means you won. katsuki is quick to remind you he didn’t say yes, but you already know his mind’s been made.
“i’m surprised you didn’t ask me why i have your location on my phone.” you hum.
katsuki sounds utterly confused by your question when he responds “why would i give a shit about that ? s’not like i get somethin’ to hide. don’t care if you know where i’m at.” he responds simply.
“sides, i know how obsessed you are with me, so—”
“i’m hanging up now, katsuki. get me my ramen. toodles.” your bitter tone makes him laugh, and just to piss you off some more he adds in a honeyed sweet “see you later, babe. love ya.” before he hangs up. you huff shaking your head. a text pings and you swipe up to check it, it’s from katsuki again.
“i’m not getting you shit btw.”
he does indeed come back with ramen.
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steddiealltheway · 1 year ago
Text
After Eddie seems to become a staple member of the group, Steve pulls him aside and says, "Hey, I just wanted to warn you that I can be a bit bitchy at times, and don't be afraid to tell me if I ever go too far. Dustin calls me out all the time."
Eddie softly smiles and lays a gentle hand on Steve's arm. "My friends have to tell me when I go too far with flirting, so you can call me out on that too. No worries."
Steve's head spins a bit. Eddie 'The Freak' Munson goes too far when flirting? He snorts. "I don't think you'd ever go too far with me."
Eddie's head tilts to the side as he takes Steve in. "You don't believe me." It's more of a statement than a question.
"I don't," Steve confirms. "But hey, I'll let you know if something you say makes me cream my pants."
Eddie smiles wide. "You know, my words might not, but I know something else that will if you're down later."
Steve feels himself take in an involuntary deep breath as the shock reaches his system. Instead of letting Eddie in on it, he leans in and says, "I'll let you know."
Eddie's eyes flicker down to his lips, and Steve is reminded of the hand on his arm as it squeezes hard for a moment. "You're so damn pretty, big boy. Would love to see you absolutely wrecke-"
"Guys."
Steve's head whips around to where the rest of the group is staring at them. He's not sure when they racked up an audience.
"Steve here said I couldn't go too far with the flirting. I'm giving him a first-hand experience with it," Eddie says shamelessly while wrapping an arm around his shoulder.
"I still don't think you can," Steve says turning to him which is the wrong thing to do because he didn't realize how close Eddie was to him.
The other boy takes advantage of it and leans in a little closer, brushing his nose against Steve's. "Is that a challenge?"
His heart beats hard in his chest, but Steve isn't one to back down, so he lets his hand come up to cup Eddie's jaw. "If you want it to be," he replies.
Eddie seems to falter a bit at this, and his own breathing rate increases.
"Guys," Dustin says again but more exasperated.
Steve turns to him and quickly says, "One more interruption and I'll throw you through another gate."
"Woah, too far," Dustin says, pointing at him and Eddie, "Both of you."
Steve holds his hands up and takes a step away from Eddie. “Alright. Okay. I’m sorry. Too far.”
Dustin nods and turns back to the group.
Steve thinks that’s the end of things until Eddie leans in and whispers, “We’ll chat later, sweetheart.”
He tries not to have a physical reaction to him. He doesn’t know why his flirting is taking him so off guard. But it’s nice to have someone who can keep up with the Harrington charm.
Maybe.
Later that night, Steve is surprised when Eddie doesn’t stick behind and keep his promise. But it gives him a minute to breathe after all the flirty winks and innocent fleeting touches whenever Eddie would pass him.
He tries to just shake it off as a normal reaction to being the target of such intense flirting that he's not sure he's ever experienced before. But it feels like something more than that.
He sleeps it off and doesn't think much of it especially when he gets into his Family Video routine. Then, the bell to the front door rings, and Steve launches into his, "Welcome to Family Video," speech which is quickly cut off when he sees Eddie walk in.
Nothing is really different except he has his hair pulled back into a messy bun that makes Steve's hands flex wanting to touch. Shit.
"Hi gorgeous," Eddie says with a bright smile, leaning across the counter.
Steve feels a blush creep up his neck and spread across his face. "Hi," he replies. Then he remembers their little challenge and doesn't hold back from reaching up, tucking a stray curly strand behind Eddie's ear. "You should wear your hair like this more often. Lets me see more of you."
It's Eddie's turn to blush as he glances down with a soft smile.
"So, what brings you in today? Not that I'm complaining, I would take any excuse to see that pretty face of yours," Steve says, laying it on heavy.
Eddie snorts as if he's joking.
Steve uses his hand to softly tilt Eddie's jaw so he can look at him. "I'm not kidding," he insists, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip slowly. Shit, he has such soft lips.
Eddie's lips move forward as if on impulse, quickly kissing the pad of his finger. His eyes widen, and Steve sees the way both of their breath hitch in their chests.
"Too far?" Eddie asks quietly.
"Not even close."
Eddie holds his gaze for a moment, searching for something. He must not find it because he pulls back a bit, putting more space between them than Steve wants. "I was just stopping by to see you," Eddie confesses.
"Yeah? Why's that?" Steve asks with a smile.
Eddie shrugs. "Just wanted to."
It takes Steve back a bit. He was expecting some sort of line, but the response sounds entirely genuine. He doesn't know how to respond.
Eddie fidgets with his rings for a moment before saying, "Well, I'll see you later." He turns quickly and leaves before Steve has a chance to respond.
"Okay, what the hell was that?" Robin asks, startling Steve.
"Shit," Steve says, laying a dramatic hand over his chest. "How long have you been listening?"
"Considering I've been literally right behind you this entire shift and you guys didn't even try to make that a private conversation, I listened the whole time."
Steve runs a hand through his hair and says, "I basically challenged him yesterday to try to be too much when he flirts because apparently he can do that. But yeah, it's no big deal." He smiles and shakes his head as if it's clear as day that this is not affecting him at all.
Robin stares at him for a second before jabbing her finger into his chest repeatedly. "Don't you lie to me! I'm your best friend! You were totally flirting back and you got flustered! No one does that to you!"
"Ow!" Steve says, backing away after a particularly hard jab. "Okay! Okay! Yes, it's flustering me a bit, but I've never had someone who could keep up with me."
"Gross."
Steve rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean."
He resumes stacking his tapes until Robin scoots in next to him and says, "You know, it's okay if it's more than that."
Steve pauses and thinks about it. Is it more than that? He shakes his head and whispers, "I don't know if it is."
Robin's arms slowly wrap around his waist, and Steve leans his head on top of hers. Maybe the flirting has gone too far already, but he doesn't want it to end. And that's a scary thought.
He finishes out his shift, thinking about what Robin said while trying to interpret his own feelings. After they close, Steve drives Robin home and heads back to his house. Only, he makes a split-second decision and takes a different turn, heading toward Eddie's new place.
Might as well figure this out now.
He rushes to the side of his new trailer and taps on his bedroom window. The curtains open and Eddie looks at him confused. Steve mouthes Is your uncle home?
Eddie shakes his head and points to the front door before closing the curtains.
Steve rushes to the door and steps inside as soon as Eddie opens it. He closes it behind him and looks at Eddie. God, his heart races even when he doesn't say anything.
"Hi," Steve says with a big smile.
"Hi," Eddie replies, pulling his hair in front of his face.
"No bun?" Steve asks.
"I can put it up if you like."
Steve shakes his head. "No, it looks great."
Eddie smiles and steps closer to him, running a hand through Steve's hair. "Not everyone can have such luscious hair as you."
Steve closes his eyes and leans into the hand. It feels nice.
"So, are you taking me up on my offer from before?" Eddie asks.
Steve opens his eyes and takes in the flirtatious glint in his eyes. "Depends on what you're offering."
Eddie moves in closer and puts his hands in his pockets. "Anything that you'd like."
Steve wraps his arms around Eddie's shoulders and flirts back, "Anything?"
Eddie's hands wrap around his waist. "Anything."
"Kiss me then."
Eddie freezes in his arms, the flirtatious look leaving his face as he looks at him. "Steve..."
"Too far?" Steve asks, not stepping back.
Eddie looks at his lips and back at his eyes. "You know I could never say no to you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Eddie says, leaning forward, brushing his nose against Steve's. He waits a moment and whispers, "Can I kiss you?"
"Yes," Steve says, moving forward to meet Eddie, connecting their lips in a kiss that makes Steve realize this is definitely more than just a challenge.
His hands move into Eddie's hair, trying to bring him closer as Eddie's hands trail up and down his back, pressing into him.
Steve breaks the kiss, breathing deeply before going right back in, deepening the kiss when he feels Eddie's tongue trace the seam of his lips.
Shit, he needs to make sure this isn't just him flirting.
He slows the kiss and gently pulls away, only for Eddie to kiss him again, pulling him in even closer, only breaking away when Steve breaks the kiss again and rests his forehead against Eddie's.
Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and says, "Please, let me just stay in this a little longer before it has to end."
Steve's heart thuds in his chest as he works up the courage to ask, "Does it have to end?"
Eddie slowly pulls away and looks at him. "Steve, that was too far and we both know it."
"What if it wasn't?" Steve asks.
Eddie looks at him with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and maybe even sorrow. "It was for me."
Oh. Steve steps back a bit and nods, running both his hands through his hair. He pauses and looks at Eddie who looks unbelievably scared. There's no way he thinks that he didn't enjoy that... right? "Eddie-"
"Don't, Steve. It's fine. I won't tell anyone."
Steve shakes his head and steps forward, only for Eddie to step back in fear. "Eddie, you can't seriously think this was just me seeing how flirtatious you can be, right? At least, that's not what it was to me."
"It's not?"
"No," Steve says and steps forward again, "Look, I don't know what changed, but from the first moment you started flirting with me, it's felt like more than a challenge. And yes, maybe it's been less than a full day since then, but I really like you. And I don't want the flirting to be fake anymore."
Eddie takes a second to process what he's saying then asks, "This isn't flirting going way too far, right?"
Steve shakes his head. "No."
Eddie smiles. "So, you're saying that my flirting worked?"
"If you agree to go on a date with me, then yes."
Eddie's face lights up. "I'll say yes if you still promise to tell me if it ever goes too far."
"Like I said, I don't think it ever could."
"And I think it can, my fuzzy wuzzy bear."
Steve's nose scrunches in disgust while Eddie stares at him with a manic smile, waiting to hear his reaction. "Okay! Too far! That was horrible."
"I know," Eddie says with a laugh. "And you still want to go out with me?"
"Yes," Steve says without hesitation, "But please, no more horrible nicknames or I'll find out what's too far for you."
Eddie winks. "I look forward to it."
Steve laughs while shaking his head before he pulls Eddie into another kiss.
And while Eddie never really goes too far with Steve, the kids and Robin chime in often to alert Eddie when they've had enough. But it never seems to stop him.
4K notes · View notes
ellecdc · 3 months ago
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oh wooow…. I just found your chef!sirius and I think you unlocked a new favorite au for me! I’ve always been more of a james girlie but your sirius, especially your chef!sirius has me feeling all types of ways. do you have anything more for him and reader planned? I’d love to read more about them and their dynamic he’s been so sweet on her at a&e and the lip biting thing has made me think of plenty of unholy things they could do.
so excited to read more of them! or reread chef!sirius if you don’t plan on adding more. 🤍🤍🤍
I love them, your honour. Also, omg it's happening!!!!!!!!!!! thanks for your sweet words, babes <3
chef!Sirius x mixologist!reader who have their first date [2.5k words]
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7
CW: reader is anxious as fuck about the date, we actually don't talk about Jeffery even once in this so sorry to all our Jeffery Stans (or haters) out there xoxoxo
A date.
An actual date.
And if it went well; your first date.
God did you hope it went well.
You’d been rightfully wary about the prospect of dating a coworker but you had to admit it was growing increasingly difficult (and extremely tiresome) pretending you weren’t completely gone for the cantankerous chef who seemed to only soften for you. 
Thankfully it seemed he was just as gone for you, which at least meant it would only be slightly awkward if it didn’t go well and not see you dying from embarrassment. 
What you hadn’t been prepared for, however, was how difficult taking a noteworthy chef out for a dinner date would turn out to be. 
Every restaurant you had suggested (though Sirius had insisted he would go anywhere with you) was either owned by someone he knew and was in direct competition with, someone he knew and didn’t like, or someone he knew and felt their food was no good. 
So you had made - what you were sure was a brilliant idea at the time - the horrible suggestion of just having him over to your flat for dinner. 
Great.
Terrible. 
Because now you were responsible for preparing a meal for that same noteworthy chef who got paid to spend day after day shouting at his kitchen staff for their “sad excuses for artistic plating” and “terrible passes at edible food”. 
Stupid, stupid girl. 
You warily eyed the sauce you had set aside for your tomato basil pasta as you stirred the store bought pasta on the stove.
What were you thinking!? Two of the seven ingredients (not including the bloody pasta) was in the sodding title. 
You were going to simply throw up. 
But the sound of an assured knock on the door felt like a buzzer ringing loud and obnoxiously at the end of a game - you were officially out of time.
Or were you?
Could you cancel? Tell him you were feeling poorly?
The fact that he had showed up at your sodding house with various essentials a mere few weeks ago told you no, you couldn’t cancel.
You smoothed out your shirt with shaky hands as you moved towards your front door. 
You saw this man almost everyday; you worked with him, and when you weren’t working with him, you were often commuting home with him or finding some other excuse to be in each other’s company.
So why were you nervous?
You opened the door to expose him; standing tall in all his fair skin, tattooed, storm-cloud eyes, inky-black hair artfully tied back in a way that screamed “I hardly tried” that you could never accomplish no matter how hard you tried glory.
Oh right.
That’s why you were nervous. 
“Hey there.” He greeted you softly; eyes roving over your form in much the same way yours had just done as you clocked in on the bouquet of flowers hanging casually in his hand. 
You had to wipe your now clammy hands off on your shirt again. 
“Hey.” You said belatedly, earning you a smirk from your date. “Erm, sorry, come in.” You chuckled awkwardly as you moved out of his way and granted him access to your flat. 
“Smells great!” He offered earnestly, pausing to turn to you and gesture to the flowers. “Can you tell me where I can find a vase for these?”
“I can take those!” You began, reaching forward only to have him move them up and out of your reach with a smile on his face.
“Can you tell me where I can find a vase for these?” He repeated softly, taking the hand you had been reaching for the bouquet with in his and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.
Your brain worked overtime to keep your knees from buckling and directing him to the third cupboard from the left. 
He looked jarringly at home in your kitchen; shucking off his jacket and throwing it over the back of a stool before grabbing a vase from the appropriate cupboard and beginning a search through your drawers for a pair of scissors.
You had to remind yourself that he was a chef and it was his job to look at home in a kitchen; that was his domain.
You realised then that he had been speaking to you. 
“I’m so sorry, what was that?”
“I was only saying that I looked it up and made sure that these were safe for cats.” He said simply as he fluffed the bouquet in its new home and moved it to the centre of the counter with a satisfied smile. 
“You didn’t have to do that, Sirius.” You cooed somewhat embarrassingly. “I would have fought Birdie over them even if they weren’t.” 
Sirius let out one of his notorious barks of laughter (that half the staff insisted you were making up) that immediately left you feeling more at ease. 
“Well, no fighting required.” He said as he moved towards you, widening his stance so that he was closer to your height and wrapping his arms around your middle. “Thank you for having me.”
“Thank you for coming.” You smiled back; officially lost in the overwhelming beauty of this adonis who willingly accepted spending one of his precious evenings off with you. 
“I think your pasta might be done.” He whispered then, causing you to startle slightly and scramble from his grasp towards the stove.
“Anything I can do to help?” He asked as he followed you over.
“No!” You shouted at first, immediately embarrassed as you opted to pretend the heat of your face was a product of the steam from the pasta. “No, just, erm, go sit down.”
He backed out of your kitchen with a flirty smile on his lips as he accepted your direction.
Now you could understand why he was always yelling at people in his kitchen. 
You were astounded that you didn’t simply melt into goo under his steady gaze as you worked, but you were finally bringing the finished pasta to the table and sitting across from him.
“I apologise in advance; I’m not the cook you are.” You offered as you handed him the spoon to serve himself first. 
He gave you an odd look as he reached over and filled your plate first before his own. “No sorry needed, doll. When someone feeds me, I say thank you.”
You let out a breathy laugh as you picked up your fork. “Oh!” You nearly shouted, kneeing the table in your haste to stand causing you to have to catch a cup before it toppled. “Buggering fuck, sorry.” You apologised quickly, thanking every god known to mankind that you didn’t dump his plate or glass onto him. “Sorry, I forgot the asiago.” 
You opened the fridge and shoved your head into it feigning a search for the cheese when you really needed to cool down and take some steadying breaths.
You were fine, this was fine. 
Just fine.
Except that you had a stupid sexy tattooed chef sitting at your dining room table waiting for you to bring him the sodding asiago. 
You closed the fridge with a little too much force and heard some errant condiment tip over in the shelves behind you; you’d deal with that later. 
“This smells really good, doll.” He offered again, spreading the forsaken cheese over his pasta before loading a fork full and bringing it to his lips. 
You held your breath as you watched him chew; his brows furrowed before he nodded and let out an appreciative hum.
 “Very good; nicely done, gorgeous.” 
You smiled shyly at the praise and took your own bite.
It was good.
But surely it could be better? 
Should you have put more garlic in? The five cloves were already 3-4 more than the family recipe called for. And was there enough salt?
You definitely overcooked the pasta. 
The store bought pasta.
Fuck. 
“Hey.”
You looked up from your spiralling to see Sirius watching you cautiously. “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing! Sorry.” You chuckled and began picking at your food. “Sorry, how was your day?”
He narrowed his eyes at you as he weighed whether or not he was going to let you brush past his question.
Apparently, you looking nervously down at his fork solidified his decision.
“That’s it.” He said as he put his fork down. “Come’ere.”
And before you could protest, he had one of the legs of your chair in his hand and was pulling you over to him. “What’s going on in that head of yours, hm?” He asked as he brushed a lock of your hair away from your eyes.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.” You offered more confidently. 
Sirius hummed in faux consideration. “I call bullshit.”
You let out a defeated sigh and looked down at your hands in your lap. “I���.I’m sorry, I- I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve made a mistake.”
Sirius was quiet for a few moments as you picked at your thumb nail and tried to ignore the stinging behind your eyes.
“Agreeing to spend tonight with me?” He asked softly then, causing you to look up so quickly that you heard your neck crack. 
“No! No! No, Sirius, not- not you, not this.” You assured him quickly, pulling one of his hands into both of yours. “I feel ridiculous.”
“‘Bout what?” He asked with reservation, though he considered your face with a look of concern clouding his own. 
“I can’t believe I tried cooking for you.” You bemoaned then, feeling that traitorous stinging behind your eyes turn into glossiness along your lash line. 
You watched in abject horror as Sirius’ face fell completely blank before he burst into laughter.
You were wrong, you were completely and utterly wrong; this really could end in you dying of humiliation. 
You were going to have to quit your job. You’d have to move back in with your parents. You’d have to change your number. You’d have-
“Doll, hey, hey wait!” Sirius managed to get out between hearty laughs as you tried pulling your hands away from him. “Wait! No no no, babe, listen.”
You let out a breath that sounded dangerously close to a sob and pointedly kept your gaze at your lap; perhaps not the greatest option because from this vantage point all you could see was your hands in his which left you aching with want. 
One of his hands disappeared as it moved to your chin when he forced you to look at him.
“Do you know what I would be eating at home if I was alone right now?” He asked you around an incredibly handsome cheeky smile. 
You shook your head once which resulted in one traitorous tear spilling from your lashes, stealing Sirius’ silver gaze from your eyes as his thumb moved to catch it. 
“Maybe packaged ramen?” He replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “Except I wouldn’t have cooked it.”
“What?” You choked out through a wet laugh.
“I wouldn’t have cooked it.” He repeated. “I would have crushed the noodles, opened the bag, sprinkled the seasoning on top of it and given it a shake and then would have eaten it from the bag.”
“That’s awful.”
“It is awful!” He agreed readily. “And do you know when the last time someone cooked for me was?”
You shook your head again. 
“Neither do I.” 
You both chuckled and he let his hand fall away from your chin where it joined your own again in your lap. 
“I cook all day long for everyone else and I usually can’t be arsed to cook for myself when the time comes. When I visit friends and family, they usually prefer having food prepared by a chef and I can’t bring myself to deny them because I love them and love cooking for them, so, this really is a treat. Not only did I not have to make it, it is also very good. I’ll be honest, I didn’t even know you could cook, so I was prepared to eat frozen pizza which still would have been an upgrade from my dry ramen.” 
You let out a breath in faux reluctance as you purveyed your set up. It did smell really good. 
“Did I completely botch this date?” You asked teasingly, though when you looked back at Sirius his gaze was as soft as butter left in the sun. 
“Absolutely not.” He whispered, leaning imperceptibly closer to you. “This is actually turning out better than I could have imagined.”
You hummed in acknowledgement as your eyes - without your consent - fell to his lips. “Yeah? Spend a lot of time imagining dates with me?”
“The majority of my time, actually.” He agreed easily, inching even closer to you. 
“And how do they usually end?”
Sirius shook his head no as his eyes moved to your own lips. “I don’t imagine that; I don’t imagine having to say goodbye.”
“No?”
“No.” 
“What do we do instead of saying goodbye, then?”
His eyes moved up to your own at that; neither of your daring to breathe as he searched your eyes for some kind of answer.
Well, you’d give him one.
Your answer came in the form of you closing the distance between you two and pressing your lips to his; he tasted a little bit like the mint gum you knew he chewed to avoid smelling like cigarettes, and he also tasted a bit like your pasta.
Your pasta, that you made for him. 
That he liked. 
And somewhere under all of that; somewhere under the mint and the tomato-basil-garlic, he tasted quite a bit like home. 
You weren’t sure who broke the kiss, but suddenly the two of you were connected by your foreheads as you took a heavy breath. 
“Usually that.” He answered breathlessly, earning him a laugh as you lowered your head only for him to pull it back up to press another kiss to your lips. “Can we eat this really good pasta that someone so graciously made for me now?” 
You laughed at him again and prepared to move your chair back to the other side of the table only for Sirius to reach over you and grab your plate so that you were sitting directly beside him instead. 
The two of you fell into your usual and comfortable repertoire then; his hand never leaving your knee under the table as the two of you talked about nothing and everything.
“Did you really not think I could cook?” You asked him  as you watched him clear off your table for you because “you cooked doll, it’s only fair.” 
You swore you noticed a slight dusting of pink on his cheek bones as he busied himself with loading your dishwasher. 
“Erm, no…actually. I never imagined goodbyes, and I never imagined you cooking.”
And though you wouldn’t find out until much, much later in your relationship; Sirius really didn’t think you could cook because the version of you in his head didn’t need to, that’s what he was for.
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revelboo · 11 days ago
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The speed in which you crank out fics is concerning. Like, I appreciate it WHOLLY, but are you good? R u ok?
Rest is overrated, I run on stress and coffee. Yes, I’m good. I can write short form like this pretty quickly if I’m not at work or busy.
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Humans Are Weird/Cute Headcanons
Humans elicit one of two reactions in Cybertronians. It’s not like they haven’t seen organic life before, but the fact that we look vaguely like most Cybertronians in form? Our faces, our body shapes, two legs and two arms just like them? It either creates an unconscious association that we look like tiny, organic Cybertronians or that the similarities are just unsettling. Compounding it is the way we move, the gestures we use that are so eerily like their own. To make it worse, we’re just so helpless compared to them. Fragile. There’s a tendency to react to us like we would a newborn kitten. And for that protectiveness to eventually slide into possessiveness.
TFP Knockout
• Primus. The first time he saw you in full racing leathers, boots, gloves, and that helmet, he just stopped short in surprise. Thinks of the rare times he’d seen minicons and how you look like one instead of just another squishy, little human. And while he’d initially just been invested in figuring out how an inferior, little human beat him in a race, it doesn’t take long for him to start looking forward to those almost nightly meetings. It becomes less about winning and more about the bull session between you two after. Enjoying when you stand up to him, argue with him, even though you must realize he could hurt you so easily if he wanted to.
IDW Bumblebee
• It’s honestly such a pleasant surprise how tactile humans are. You seem to have no sense of personal space and he loves it, because it’s less lonely when you’re near. You don’t mind being picked up and carried, your little frame so warm in his hands or cradled against him. Always so curious, your little hands exploring his servos, while you smile to yourself. Then holding out your own hands so he can carefully manipulate them with a single servo. It’s like a game between you, showing off your little, blunt teeth so he will bare his denta for you as you sit on his thigh.
IDW Bluestreak
• Knows he can be a bit annoying to some bots, but you never seem bothered by his chatter. Actually asking him questions, interacting and it means so much to him when you stretch out against him, laying a cheek on him to listen to the sound of his voice rumbling through you. Liking it when he talks, wanting to be near him. The big surprise, though? How protective you are of him, not even thinking twice about throwing a shoe at Sunny for making a rude comment aimed at him, your little face red as you snarl at the much bigger bot, who’s too shocked at the outburst to respond.
IDW Starscream
• Having so little to call his own, he’s extremely possessive of you. It doesn’t hurt that you’re always happy to see him, greeting him when he returns from patrol, fussing over his injuries like you’re trying to take care of him. No conniving or plotting in you and no ulterior motives for seeking out his company. Aside from leeching body heat, and he hardly minds that, enjoys the feel of you sprawled against him, the peaceful silence.
TFP Soundwave
• Even though he initially took you because of the effect your strange organic thoughts have on him to try and understand why he can’t shut you out, it’s impossible to stay impartial. Every day he tries to inoculate himself against your thoughts, strengthening that connection through touch. And when you start reaching for him in return it’s a surprise. Eventually you sing for him not because he asked you to in an effort to distract you and focus your thoughts on something so they’re less painful to him, but because you want to. Because you think it makes him happy and it does.
ES Megatron
• He’d never paid much attention to humans until he’d met Dorothy, he’d fought alongside her and suddenly humanity wasn’t just something vaguely annoying getting in his way, under ped. It’s harder to not care after getting to know humans. Harder to not be overprotective about you after making it his mission to look after you. And maybe he’s a bit overzealous about it, because you’re not Dorothy. She can stand on her own and take care of herself, but you? You need him.
IDW Optimus
• He’s so used to being bigger than most Autobots. Of being looked up to, but you’re even tinier than they are. Small enough to carry in one hand even though he’s awkward about asking you to let him carry you at first. But after the spark twisting anxiety of watching you walking where bigger Cybertronians are walking? Seeing it not even occur to you that you might get stepped on? He insists on carrying you for your own safety, though, truth be told, he enjoys the feel of you in his servos, that little bemused smile you aim at him.
IDW Thundercracker
• He feels guilty sometimes about taking you, but it’s for the best even if you’re upset now. He’s seen enough movies to know how to coax you, win you over. He became obsessed with human love stories, the drama and romance. And he wants that for himself. Needs it. So he tries different tactics, little gifts and acts meant to convince you to love him. It’s so easy in the movies.
TFP Megatron
• The game you two play has become something of a guilty pleasure of his. Watching you pretend. Pushing you to see how far you’ll allow before you snap at him. Pretending you aren’t scared of him, though he’s seen the fear in your eyes once or twice and while it had amused him at first, he prefers you snarling back at him, all attitude. Your fear twists unpleasantly through him, but that angry defiance? So lovely.
IDW Soundwave
• He never meant to get so attached to you after he’d found you in Starscream’s quarters that day. You’re just so small and you’d looked at him in fear, your wild emotions almost crippling him since he couldn’t shut it out. Even after you calmed, days later, he finds himself reaching out a thought. Finding you and monitoring you from a distance. Again and again until he’d finally had to check on you in person again. After all, what did Starscream really know about caring for anyone, let alone a human. And that hesitant, little smile had warmed him when you’d looked up at him.
IDW Jazz
• The fact that you can see through his lies and will call him out on it? It’s a surprise and a relief. Letting down his defenses, letting you in takes time. He’s worn that smiling, carefree mask for so long. But he slowly lets it fall away when it’s just the two of you, feeling the absence of that weight he’d carried for so long. Getting to know who he is under the facade.
IDW Prowl
• Has to protect you since you don’t seem to understand just how small and delicate you are. Standing up to him and any other bot with zero fear. Something about that reckless anger calls to him. Around the other Autobots, he has to be the one in control, the one with a plan no matter what. Never allowed to falter or hesitate. You spark his own temper, making it easier to drop the act. Be frustrated or angry when it’s just you two. Be real.
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thebirdandthebee · 2 months ago
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Morning Snack | Aemond Targaryen
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This is my first time writing in the House of the Dragon universe, so please be kind! Don't expect perfect historical accuracy - but I just love this character so much.
featuring | Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen x Reader
length | 1k words (a shorty!)
synopsis | You're worried about your shape, and your husband's lack of worry about his.
warnings | 18+ MDNI! Fluff + implied smut
One thing that drove you mad about your husband was just how often he could eat. That is, eat and maintain his lithe figure. Sure, he was in the training yard every day, keeping his shape inadvertently, as it was clear he never once had to think about the harsh pull of a corset, but you were certain he could eat more in one day than some homes ate in a week.
It wasn’t uncommon to see the Prince walking the halls of the Red Keep with an apple in his hand, or reaching for a sweet in his pocket.
Aside from snacks, he would quietly and cleanly go through two, three, sometimes four plates of food at supper - the cook prepping and preparing extra venison just for the second son.
When the two of you would take dinner in your bedchambers, there was often a small, second table brought in to hold plates as they normally would not fit on your given space.
Only once and a while, as you ran into your husband throughout the grounds, would you catch just a crumb or two on his black doublet - a sure sign he’d been ordering shortbread to his meeting room during the day.
Besides the fact that you hadn’t seen his measurements change in the 16 months you’d been betrothed and married, there were no obvious signs of his intake.
Today, as your ladies in waiting braced a foot up on the bedpost to pull your laces tighter and tighter, the sight of Aemond’s keen eye scanning a selection of cheeses from your tea table nearly sent you into a frenzy.
“Thank you,” you grimaced before dismissing your ladies maids for the morning - now that you’d been picked, prodded and parsed away into a cascade of deep emerald velvet.
“Thought I’d join you for tea, my love,” Aemond said quietly, just barely breaking eye contact with the spread of fruit, cured meat and treats alongside the soft cheeses on the hutch near your common area.
“Oh really? Because you missed my company?” You supplied, striding across the room, sure you could feel your ribs straining beneath the whelped whale bone stitched into your garments.
“I always enjoy your company, sweet wife,” Aemond assured, raising his look to meet yours, but hand still hovering over a particularly ripe looking apricot.
“Are you sure you aren’t just here for the tea? I can excuse myself so you can be alone with your meal,” you tossed him a look that he nearly missed because he was sure he saw his favorite jam preserves tucked into the display that he hadn’t seen available for a few weeks.
“Mm?” He asked, turning his head to look up at you one more time.
“You make me mad, do you know that?” You asked, coming to stand in front of him with a small furrow between your brows.
“Mad?” Aemond asked, tossing a small berry into his mouth.
“You are here for the food!” You all but snarled, causing his brow to lift just slightly in surprise. 
“Is something the matter?” He asked, turning his shoulders squarely to face you.
“You get to eat and eat and eat all day long,” you huffed, turning and crossing the room once again to pour a glass of incensed water into your empty cup. “How can you eat so much and yet your body never changes? Not even a bit?” You asked. 
Aemond was at a loss for words. He was certain he didn’t eat that much.
“If I have one more sweet than veg at dinner, I can feel on my thighs for the next six weeks!” You knew you were bordering on hysteria at this point. “I watched you eat six tarts last night.” You pointed an accusatory finger at your husband. “Six!”
“They were very good tarts, plums are finally back in season,” Aemond countered, not sure why his little wife was throwing a fit over his tea.
You crossed the rooms again, cradling his sharp jaw in your hands, arms accounting for the height difference between you two.
“I am deeply in love with you, and I deeply resent how you can maintain your figure and eat until your heart’s content,” you said sternly. Aemond noted the slight sweetness of honeysuckle on your breath. “I am… envious,” you admitted softly.
“I assure you,” Aemond began, “your body leaves me wanting for nothing,” he informed. “I’m quite attached to all parts of it and hope none of them disappear,” he said, unruffled by your outburst.
“Well they will,” you huffed, dropping your arms and placing your hands on your waist. “I need to shed these hips and thighs, so I’m telling cook no more sweets at dinner or tea,” you said pointedly, turning away from your husband and crossing the room again to grab your cloak.
“No sweets?” Aemond’s face reflected an expression of disgust. “That simply won’t work for me,” he replied. 
“No sweets,” you reiterated. Aemond set down the halved peach he’d absentmindedly picked up as you were speaking and strode across the room, placing his hands on your waist over your clock.
“My love, I need my sweets the same way I need you,” he murmured in your ear, causing you to puff out a sarcastic laugh.
“Oh really? You can’t live without them?” You asked, spinning in his hold.
Aemond took a deep breath, drawing his arms tightening around you as he spoke with clear authority.
“Your hips and thighs happen to be my favorite bits,” he began, “and if you take them from me the same way you plan to take my sweets, I will take it as a personal affront.”
“Aemond, the other ladies of court - ”
“Frankly, I don’t care about the other ladies of court and neither should you,” he interrupted. “You are a Princess and if anything, they should strive to be more like their rulers.” He held a finger to your lips. “Now that I’ve finished my snack, let me move on to my next favorite thing to eat."
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Please let me know if you'd be interested in reading any more Aemond content :)
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