#let me climb that tall boy

[antiquitea]

jacob elordi

[castieltrash1]

BROOK! (💕) I've got a 'Lost Boys' belated Friday The 13th HC request!

I've had this thought rattling around in my brain for a while now, so let's see what you can make of it!

In their lair, I imagine there's plenty of dark, shadowy crevices in the ceiling in which to hide, and, perverted hedonists that they are, I can easily see any one of them unfairly using it to their advantage...

So, how do you think each of 'The Boys' would react if, after they hide up there when you *think* they've gone out hunting, they get to not only watch you finger yourself to orgasm...but hear you moan their name when you cum?

KELLLYYYYY!!! this was such a good ask, ive honestly missed these losers so much JSGDBSJ!!! i hope this is good and thanks for sending in an ask!! :3 below the cut is marko, paul, and david !!

DWAYNE: Dwayne will literally stay there and watch the ENTIRE time. This guy has the best self restraint out of any of the others, ANDDD he's the biggest voyeur, so he’s going to (at most) move so he can see you better!!! Dwayne will stay up there for hours, his eyes fixated on your hand and how it moves, how your fingers pump inside you and what speed. And yes, don't you worry, he is keeping track of it all to use against you at a later date. When you moan his name when you cum his resolve FINALLY breaks and i’m so dead serious when I say he instantly drops to the floor and gets his fingers on you!!

Dwayne swallows heavily, watching you as your fingers pump in and out of you at a steady pace. “Fuck,” you murmur, and though he’s far from you he swears he can feel your breath against his skin. His tongue swipes across his swollen bottom lip as he imagines it’s his fingers inside you, making you squirm and pant and curse. “Dwayne!” His eyes flash yellow as you cum, your back arching off of the bed, and he drops to the floor. He’s silent and you don’t notice him until you feel his calloused fingertips press down on your clit. Your eyes pop open, your gasp muffled by his hungry kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. He doesn’t have to say anything for you to understand that he saw it all, that he bided his time, and that now he was going to make you forget everything but his name. 

MARKO: Marko is second to last in the self-restraint department so I really don't think he could stay away while you touch yourself, like the man who get a WHIFF of it and he's in your face like “hi hello did u need help i'm going to help, move your hand-” like relax?? But if by some grace of god he’s able to hold back (whether that be on the ceiling or standing near you but you don't notice type thing), everything is out the window when you say his name. Like he's ripping your fingers out of you (ruining your orgasm because he SUCKS) and he’s shoving his own inside (and he's an asshole so he’s scissoring them inside you and going way harder than you’d expect him too) all while grinning in your face 

You moan Markos name, your eyes squeezing shut as the orgasm you’ve been slowly building up to finally comes to the surface. Just as the pleasure begins to wash over you, you feel someone grab your wrist, nails digging into your flesh as they rip your fingers out of you. Your orgasm is ruined in an instant and your eyes fly open, face hot in both anger and arousal, but when you see the sinister smile on Markos face, a flash of fear crosses your features. He tsks, bringing your fingers up to his mouth and sucking them, his eyes narrowing at the taste of you. “I’m sorry,” he says in mock apology as he pulls them from his lips, his teeth grazing along the flesh as he does so. “Did I interrupt you, baby?” He smiles again but it's far from kind. His fingers dip inside your hole roughly and you whine at the intrusion. He hushes you as he sets a steady and rough pace, fingers scissoring and curling inside you. “Just let me make it up to you then, alright? Take it like we both know you can.”

PAUL: Like Marko, Paul has zero self restraint when it comes to you LMFAO. I don't think he’d even care to wait for you to cum before he’s suddenly at your side, cooing in your ear about what a needy slut you are. He feels like the only one to ask if you were mad at him and if thats why you waited until you thought he was gone to touch yourself and regardless of what you say he’s gonna give you a pretty smile and get on his knees to apologize. You’ll be moaning his name when he cums but he’s going to be the one to do it to you

Paul’s breath on your neck has your eyes popping open, your fingers stalling inside yourself. He laughs and then he’s right there, slipping into the bed beside you and pressing close. “Hi, sweetheart,” he whispers against your neck, placing a few kisses along your pulse. “Missed me?” You don’t have to see him to know he has a shit eating grin on his face. “Poor baby, your hole was just aching, right?” You whine when you feel his hand teasingly ghost along your skin, his fingers running across your thighs. “You mad at me or something sweetheart? That why you waited to fuck yourself until you thought I was gone?” It’s useless, but you shake your head, lips parting to tell him that of course you weren’t mad, but then he’s sliding down the length of the bed and positioning himself in between your legs, a hungry look in his eyes. “Let me make it up to you and your needy little hole, alright?” His mouth opens and he gives you one last grin before he lets his tongue swipe over your hole, his hands holding your thighs apart.

DAVID: Ah, David, David, David. My annoying little guy. He has a little less patience than Dwayne, so he’d reveal himself before you came but he’s not touching you. No, you wanted to cum from your own fingers, that’s what you’re going to do! He’ll perch on the edge of the bed or, his favorite thing to do, sit in a chair in front of you and make you spread your legs wider so he can see every single pump of your fingers. He might occasionally order you to slow down, speed up, do it harder, etc but for the most part he’s going to stare you down and let you pleasure yourself because he knows no matter how good you feel right then, it’s nothing compared to what he makes you feel. In all honesty, David would probably make you keep going; you wanted to cum so badly you can keep going until he’s satisfied!

“Don’t stop now,” he says, his voice level as he takes a drag of his cigarette. You swallow heavily, staring at him from the edge of the bed where he sat in his chair, his legs spread, an almost bored expression on his face. If it weren’t for the obvious bulge in his pants, you might think he was annoyed with you. “You wanted to cum without me, that’s what you’re going to do.” You whine but relent, beginning to pump your fingers inside yourself. His gaze helps ignite the fire inside your gut once more, the occasional order he gives you makes your head spin as you’d listen, and soon enough you’re cumming, crying out his name. He watches with a disinterested expression, his hand slowly palming himself over his pants. “Why are you stopping?” His voice is gruff as he asks and when your head tilts in confusion, he smiles at you, baring his teeth like an animal, a puff of smoke spilling from his mouth. “You think you’re done because you came?” He leans forwards in his seat, shadows dancing across his face. “You’re not done until I tell you you’re done, slut.”

[sylusdarling]

23:42

Sylus x reader

inspired by this tweet

Sylus was in a bad mood today. You watched him as he stormed out angrily this morning, he was a man on a mission.

“Hey boys,” You approached Luke and Kieran.

“Miss!” They both swung their heads around to look at you.

“Do you both mind telling me what’s up with Sylus today?” You were hoping that his right hand men had some sort of idea of what was going on.

“Boss had his wallet stolen.” Luke said and Kieran nodded.

Just as the boys had said, Sylus had his wallet stolen. Unfortunately for the thief, his prized possession was in there.

Standing in an alley way, his fingers were wrapped in a man’s dirty hair as he sat on his knees in front Sylus. His face was bloodied and his lip quivered as he was at Sylus’ mercy.

“It’s a simple question, really.” Sylus yanked the man’s head back hard and he let out a loud cry.

“Fine! Y-yes I stole your wallet.” The man shook as he spoke.

In one motion Sylus loosened his grip and the man fell face first into the ground. Crouching down, Sylus dug his hand into the cowards coat and retrieved his wallet. Opening the black leather pouch, he plucked something small out of it and tucked it into his suit pocket. With a straight face Sylus threw his wallet on the ground infront of the man.

“Take it, since you clearly want it so bad.”

Reading a book in bed, you stayed up waiting for Sylus. He always told you to put yourself first and sleep but you just couldn’t until your husband was by your side again. The tall man walked into the room, he made sure he opened the door quietly incase you were sleeping.

“Sweetie, you’re still awake.”

Setting the book down on the night stand, you hopped out of bed and walked up to your husband. You wrapped your arms around him in a hug, he did the same. After a moment you pulled away.

“I heard someone stole your wallet today, get it back?” You questioned.

He nodded, “The wallet wasn’t very valuable. I just had to fetch something inside of it first.”

“Oh like some secret information or money?” You giggled clearly being sarcastic.

Bringing his large hand to your head, he ruffled your hair.

“Something like that.” He hummed. “Let’s go to bed, sweetie.”

“Sounds good.” You dragged your husband by hand to the bed as you climbed under the covers.

Before changing into his pyjamas, Sylus took the item he obtained out of his jacket and placed it on the bedside table.

There on the nightstand sat a polaroid of you with a large smile as you scooped a bite of a chocolate drizzled sundae into your mouth.

It was his prized possession.

[barbieaemond]

And I dream of a grave

Header by the lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs 💕💕

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: angst (!), smut, too many references to graves/burying, mentions of Blood & Cheese, miscommunication, Aemond's coping mechanism is violence and sex, in this order (good for him)

Word count: 3.8k

Author's note: the gif is self explanatory. This is a prequel to A Curse for a Curse, but can be read as a standalone. Big thank you to @irenadel for giving me the idea and being one of the most supportive souls <3

Taglist: @ladystarksneedle @arcielee @multyfangirl

MASTERLIST | English is not my first language

This is more than tempting the Gods. This is forsaking and impudently turning their backs on them.

As she sits down at the banquet, her mother’s words echo through her mind like the vexing sound of the wind on a storm’s night. It sets an unpleasant weight on her lungs, the close and yet shapeless feel of something dreadful. She’s almost grateful, looking around, to ascertain she’s not the only fool dreading this whole act.

The Dowager Queen sits at the table, barely able to contain a grimace. Queen Helaena, she is certain, has never looked so pale, her eyes so vacuous and yet so full of something unknown, elusive, smoke clouding and clearing her unnatural stare. The Hand has conveniently made himself absent. She can’t blame him. Actually, she envies him. If only she too could have been spared such a farce. But as the wife of the King’s brother, the very one they’re all supposed to celebrate tonight, she cannot do that, can she?

To cheers and the blaring of trumpets, the King enters shoulder to shoulder with his brother, tall and proud in his stride, wearing dark green velvet for such a special occasion, and such a special title.

“Do you know how they’re going to call you from now on?” the Queen Mother had asked when he came back from Storm’s end, dripping rain and mud and war.

“I do, Mother.” Aegon had answered, twisting a knife from his seat at the head of the table; she had never caught that glint of satisfaction in his eyes, not like that; it wasn’t dimmed by wine or flesh, but sharp as the blade in his hand. “A title he should be proud of.”

Pride was ever the easiest thing to wear for Aemond, the softest glove gliding on his skin, born out of a pit so deep and full of insecurities and negligence that that same endless depth had grown out of proportion in order to fill itself. To even try scratching his pride was like trying to climb the highest mountain with bare hands. She had cut her palms open to do so.

“What happened, Aemond?” she had asked once alone in their chambers.

“You know what happened.”

“What really happened?”

His good eye had pierced her as if she were made of crystal, but his jaw was too set, on the verge of breaking his own teeth if he carried on keeping the guilt, and truth, trapped inside.

“I didn’t want to.” He whispered, coming down from the peak, “I didn’t want to kill him. I only wanted—”

“Revenge? Well, you had it. Did it make you feel good? Did you bring that boy peace at last?”

It took him a lifetime to say no; a whispered sound, choked even, as if he had bitten off his tongue to get it out of that pit where he had never looked again.

He was biting his tongue in the council, the faintest clench in his jaw but here, here in the council, here in the world, he had to keep that pit buried and stand straight on the highest peak, looking up and up, never down, never back. How could he, how could he admit he had lost control. It was easier, safer, to let them think of him a monster, rather than just human.

“I salute you, brother.” The King had said, raising his cup “True blood of the dragon! We shall have a feast in your honor!" Otto had merely lowered his head in defiance, going unnoticed in the eyes of his King and grandson, drunk with power and finally free of his mother's leash, unaware that a golden noose now held him in check.

He had summoned jesters, musicians, even some dancers to coddle his brother, and raise him higher and higher. She imagined she just had to wait for the fall. Or perhaps pray to the Seven to overlook the insult, to keep a mortal up there with them for a little more. But then again, they shouldn’t ask the Gods for mercy. Someone more unforgiving, more bloodthirsty. Someone who, just as her husband and his brother and each one of their cursed dynasty, did not listen to either Gods or men.

“A toast!” the King says at one point, turning to his left. “To my brother Aemond and a long overdue justice, is it not?”

Out of courtesy and duty, she grabs her cup and raises it, but as everyone at the table sips their wine, all she tastes is contempt, and the cup hits the surface untouched. But not unseen.

“Brother, wine may cloud my judgment, but it seems to me that your beloved wife does not share the sentiment of this fine evening. I wonder why.”

She holds the King’s demanding stare with a firm one, aware of Aemond looking at her even if his eye is fixed on the table. He has ignored her for the whole night, not sparing her a single glance. Because she owns the truth, doesn’t she, and it’s a knife pointed at his back.  

“May I speak my mind, your Grace?”

There’s the slightest shift in Alicent’s posture, as if she were desperately waiting for her, or anyone, to cease all of this, to say this isn’t right.

Aegon pulls a thin, lazy smile and tilts his silver head, swirling his cup. “Why, of course, Princess. My brother tells me you have a habit of doing so.”

“Did he, now?” she resists the urge to scoff; such a despicable habit for a woman in this world.

“Fret not, good sister, I’m certain he holds no grudges against you for your silver tongue.”

“Oh, I’m quite certain too, your Grace. I know for a fact that he likes it.”

A few lords can do very little to hold their snickering, Aegon himself does not hide his malicious smirk, petty at the edges. It must run in the blood.

“Careful though, you don’t want to spend too much time talking, lest you leave my poor brother without any heir! It’s been a while since you two lovebirds tied the knot, isn’t that right?”

She glances beside her, surely Aemond won’t let that slight insult pass, but he stays still and silent like a statue. She can’t quite believe what she’s witnessing. This is the same man who would call the crowned head at the table wastrel, depraved, disgrace.

So much for a disgrace, now that he fosters your pride and lies.

“I can assure you, good brother, that the talking is well outweighed by other activities that involve very few words.”

Aegon plasters a big grin on his face, yet she’s not finished. “But perhaps the Gods are sparing me the burden of bringing a child in such troubled times. A realm at war is not the best place to live in, is it not?”

“It depends on which side you’re on, Princess.”

There’s suspicion in his tone, but she just blinks at him. “My apologies, I was not aware that my loyalty to your House, and my husband’s, was to be questioned.”

“Come now. We are bound by what if not words?”

“I was under the impression that the Crown should fear his own kin more than a simple foreign girl from the West.”

At that, Helaena lets out a strange noise, something close to a wince, and silence falls all over. It is only now that Aemond undoes the stone he walled himself in and acts as he always does when he feels belittled, or worse, threatened. He shuts her out.

“I’m afraid my wife is growing tired, brother. ’Tis best for her to retire.”

She bites her tongue and turns her head. There’s no mistake in his tone, that is an order. She stares at him and he stares back, blankly, and then, just as it is expected of her, she obeys.

She goes without saying a word, aware of Aemond’s eye on her, of Aegon’s little victorious giggle. He snaps his fingers and two dancing girls flock to his brother. She knows this because she can’t resist but turning before disappearing. The girls are said to come from Lys, no less. But he’s not sparing them a single glance. His eye follows her out of the hall, and even after.

Candles almost extinguished, casting a soft glow in the bedchamber, dim but enough to make the shape of her body visible under the covers.

“I know you’re pretending to be asleep.” He says, placing his dagger and eyepatch on the nightstand.

She doesn’t bother to wait a single moment to fly her eyes open. “Was I not supposed to pretend I was tired?”

When she gets no answer, she turns to face him, finding him on his feet near the bed, undoing the buttons of his doublet. His eye is on her, though, wide, as someone ready to hunt but seeing traps everywhere.

“Did you enjoy your feast?” she asks with piqued interest. “Such a shame that I missed most of it. I was eager to watch the girls from Lys dance. How were they?”

“Enough. You should thank me for dismissing you. You were bordering on high treason.”

“Since when telling the truth is considered high treason?”

“Is that what you were going to say? The truth? To make me look like a fool in front of the whole court?”

“I was only going to say that the feast was an insult and a challenge to the Gods or any common sense. And I know that beneath all the pats on the shoulder and the endorsement on your brother’s part, you are of the same mind.” she hopes to see the barest glimpse of validation on his face, at least here, where he can leave behind his pride and admit he made a mistake. Is that what you call starting a war?

But his expression is as closed as ever, wary.

She wishes it would hurt less than it does. “Of all the people ready to betray you, how quick you are to assume I’d be the first.”

“We’re bound by words, are we not?”

“Take your brother off your mouth.” She says absentmindedly; she tries to not let it sting, but it does anyway. It is a low blow, and she knows he does not believe it. He has raised the walls, coiling like a snake, and there’s no point trying to climb and risk cracking her skull open on the ground. She will have to wait for him to come down. “Then perhaps I should consider my father’s proposal.”

She leaves the bed and grabs a letter lying open on the desk. “He wrote me this letter. That is why my mother came all the way here, apparently to see how her daughter was faring.”

Aemond eyes it with the barest twitch in his lips, then looks up into her eyes and, with a sigh, she clears her throat.

“My dearest daughter,

It is with great concern and sadness that I write you this letter.

Words have reached me about the recent events involving Storm’s End and young Prince Lucerys’ demise. My spirits are low when thinking of the fate you’re enduring. But I want you to think carefully of this: annulments are rare but possible. Even more so since you bore no heirs yet. You cannot remain married to a Kinslayer, it is the highest of sins. I only need a word from you, daughter, and I shall hastily consult with a High Septon.”

She can barely register his arm moving, only sees his hand snatching the letter out of her grip, crumpling the paper between his fingers. Nostrils flaring, eye widening, she reads insult all over his face. About time.

“Is that it, Aemond? Is that the reason you’d think I would betray you? Because I didn’t bleed on a birthing bed yet? Is that how you measure my loyalty? What of all the times I drew your bath, washed your hair, pulled the boots off your feet? What about that curtain—“ she adds, pointing to the windows “and the fact that I told the maid to keep that side always closed so the sun will not bother your eye? Do you think I did all of this because of some empty words?”

He looks as if she has just slapped him. Mistrust and bewilderment run together all over his sharp features, trying to win one another, and she waits and waits, and she begs as all the purest things must be pleaded, wordlessly.

Come down. Come down. Lay down with me. In our bed, a grave, it matters not. I'll take the shovel and do the burying.

But he stands still on his high and cursed perch, the grip on the letter loosens, his shoulders slump a little, because this, this comes so easily. Violence. It’s the other glove he wears like second skin.

“You will write to your father and tell him if I hear another word about annulments, I will have his head for treason. And as for you… you tell a living soul what you know, and you shall join the Silent Sisters. You won’t even have to vow your silence, for I shall take your sharp tongue first.”

She watches him go, standing in the middle of the room like a fool; her hands bleeding still and a plea, unheard, choking to death in her chest.

Her hands heal, stay whole for so long. She feels she cannot reach him this time, no matter how hard she tries to climb. She finds no footholds, no inlets, until she stops looking for any.

She finds she has no strength to do it anymore. They’re all dead anyway, each of them in their own way, their own burial.

The king drinks and rages and drinks and rages. Helaena rocks on herself all day long, chasing the highs and lows of her laments. Jaehaera stares at her mother with her small lips sewn, her eyes wide and the Queen Mother weeps and weeps, wondering if the little girl is watching her mother go mad with grief or yet again her twin brother’s head rolling on the ground like one of her toys.

And Aemond…she does not know where Aemond chose to bury himself. He spends the day out, trying to escape the smothering grip of the Stranger’s claws, his curse…or is it only retribution?

Sometimes he’s in the training yard, sometimes that same yard becomes theater for revenge. He kills whoever helped Blood and Cheese enter the Keep, man or woman, he doesn’t care. He tortures them, and she wants to beg him to stop, to tell him that torturing one, two, or one hundred men won’t stop guilt from torturing him.

So, he wanders restlessly, basks in small and big cruelties, until the sun sets and she’s aware, as the bed dips under his weight, that she is his own burial. He takes her at any time, in any place, be it the bed, the desk, or bent over the vanity, she cannot do anything to stop him. She doesn’t want to and yet she aches to do it. Because it’s always sudden, and harsh and hurtful when he pulls her hair, when he spares no time to stoke her desire, when he keeps her bent with her back turned and a firm hand on her neck like some kind of punishment.

It never used to be like this. It had been playful, teasing, painfully slow as if he were separating salt from water, and then fast, urgent, unraveling for two inexperienced newlyweds.

But it had never been like that. There was no joy in it. Only a duty to be fulfilled. Some twisted way to gain control, while anyone else kept slipping from his hands. Just as Vhagar slipped out of his control on that fateful night of storm.

He remembered that dark thrill pounding in his veins, the laughter gushing out of his throat like poison. He couldn’t bring himself to stop. He didn’t know whether Vhagar was fueling his fire or the other way around, perhaps both. Just a little more, he’d thought, as Arrax batted his wings frantically, desperate, mirroring his young rider, to escape the gaping jaws of the Queen of All Dragons.

That’s what he wanted. He wanted to relish in his nephew’s dread, he wanted to drink it. He wanted him alone, desperate, hopeless, just as he had been.

And then he felt it, the shift in the ancient fire pit he was riding, like a boat tipping over and there was no helm to grab onto and bring it back to land. He had sunk his own family into the bleak abyss of Daemon Targaryen’s soul.

He had come to collect, thoroughly. A son for a son, yes, but he had taken much more than Jaehaerys. He’d taken Helaena as well. Even Jaehaera.

Will she ever be able to speak again?

Will my Mother ever forgive me?

Words never spoken, stuck on his tongue and then gagged and swallowed. He cannot look down, cannot look back. He must look up and forward, like soldiers do. To the next battle, to war.

But there’s this woman. And the sight of her in his bed that makes his breath hitch and for two reasons entirely opposite to one another. The first is the most ancient one. But she’s also a thorn in his side, for she knows. She knows everything. She knows all his peaks and depths, every brick in his walls and how to dismantle them; she knows he’s strong and weak, that he’s scared and guilty and worthy of his mother’s contempt, but he cannot bear any of this in front of her.

He flees her presence during the day, only to impose himself on her for the whole night. She cannot refuse him. And he cannot have her prying and dismantling his well-crafted walls and lies, so he takes her and takes her and takes her until he works themselves up to exhaustion and she’s a rag doll in his hands. It serves the purpose, though. As long as she has his cock in her mouth, as long as he harshly pounds into her, cutting her breath from the inside, she cannot ask questions. As long as he keeps chasing his pleasure, and his rugged breaths muffle his own ears, he cannot think straight.  

He's close now and it’s the second time already. The sheets are damp beneath their bodies, his back glints with sweat, damps his forehead as he thrusts inside her one more time. They’re lying on their side, but he keeps her caged against him, his arm has slipped on the mattress and under her neck to keep her still, with her back to him. With his cheek glued to hers, he croons praises in her ear, falling mindlessly from his lips but like drops in the ocean. Once, she would redden, smile blissfully, or challenge him, to go deeper, or harder, or both, but she’s a limp thing now. A mere body panting upon being fucked by another, that’s all.

This is possession. Or a desperate attempt to. Each night, he holds her as if it’s the last time and she could slip away from him at any moment, turning her back on him. She can feel it now, in the way he’s gripping her shoulder, the way his nails dig in her skin, carving into her bones: stay with me. Please. Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave.

But it’s him keeping her away, turning her own back on him.

Don’t you know, she wishes to tell him, that I won’t, ever. I won’t. No matter how cursed you are. I won’t. I won’t.

He grabs her thigh, resting it on his hip, spreading his long fingers on her skin, spreading her legs so he can find the perfect angle and picks up the pace. She shudders with every thrust, gasping with her throat dry, feeling the long bridge of his nose sinking in her cheek, his grunts growing rougher and deeper; some strange choked sound at the back of his throat.

He comes quietly, panting shallowly against the damp fabric of her nightgown. And he stays there, claw gripping her shoulder, head sunk between her neck and collarbone, and deep to the hilt buried in her.

A tear rolls down her cheek. She doesn’t know where it comes from, who she is mourning, she can’t tell these days. Perhaps she’s mourning him, who he was, who he is now and who he is forcing himself to be. She doesn’t know where the deception lies anymore. She wishes she could push it back in, prays that it goes unnoticed, swallowed along with all the others, but she should know by now, the Gods are not in her favor anymore, if they ever had been.

“Why are you crying?”

She turns her head, and her breath hitches. The gemstone glints, yes, but she’s too struck by his eye to even notice the sapphire. There’s something raw there, bare, more than his very skin now. It’s the first time she sees that look on him, torn, heavy lidded and not by pleasure.

This is the burden of grief.

She wonders if that’s the reason he’s so keen on fucking her with her back turned, so she can’t see him. Perhaps she didn’t look hard enough. She thought he had risen too high, out of her reach, of anyone’s. She thought he would never fall, not in every sense of the word.

Hence, she’s at a loss for words, slightly pulling herself up, when he slowly comes down; he curls into himself, into her lap, resting his head there like a child. No Kinslayer, no Dragon Prince, no son, no brother. No husband. Just a human, bare in the skin and soul.

Aemond wraps his hand around her knee, gently, and then tighter and tighter, shutting his eye. He’s on land now, but the room is spinning, the whole world is spinning and he doesn’t know how to stop it. He feels he started it all, he threw a spinning top and got sucked into it. And she’s the only firm thing he can hold onto.

“Do you think I’m cursed?” he whispers, the barest flutter of his long eyelashes against his cheekbone.

But she has no answer. All she has are her hands, sliding on his naked skin, through his loose hair, gently, as if touching the thinnest glass, sealing the cracks. Her palms slice open again.  

“Aren’t we all?”

And I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more."

- The Castle, Franz Kafka.

[stunie]

“DIDN’T MEAN TO HURT YOU!”

HAIKYUU + ACCIDENTALLY HURTING YOU. ft. hinata shoyo, kuroo tetsurou, & tsukishima kei x f!reader

filled request : “Since you said you write for haikyuu, can you imagine how sweet those tall (Hinata is tall in spirit) and strong green flag boys would be all very sorry and remourseful for harming their baby in accident? I think even Tsukishima (my fave asshole) would try to make it up even if it wasnt that serious.”

note : added kuroo ^ ^ <33 thank u for sending this in nonnie !!!

TSUKISHIMA KEI.

You don’t know when the brilliant idea of jump-scaring Tsukishima Kei first popped into your mind. Maybe it was because he’s been egging you on lately, resting a heavy arm on your head, then on your shoulders— snickering when you start huffing and puffing about how “You’re not a damn armrest.”

Cute- to him, probably. But today would be your turn to mess with him, show him a little taste of his own medicine, or something like that. You just think it’d be funny to hear him scream for once.

You’re as quiet as can be when you tiptoe behind him from where he’s pouring himself a bowl of cereal, your fluffiest socks already on to ensure maximum silence with the extra cushioning. All it would take was one singular hug around his middle— and then you’d squeeze, force the scream right out of his body.

You’re so close to him that you can hear his breathing now, each soft breath making your heart race a little faster, and you’re suddenly reminded of just how big your boyfriend is. You have to glance upwards to check how he’s doing, and you confirm the fact that he’s indeed.. still focused on perfecting his cereal to milk ratio.

Too much to notice you right behind him, at least.

It all happened too quickly for either of you to have reacted differently. You’re pouncing forward, arms reaching to circle around his waist, and you just barely register the sound of a loud gasp before there’s an impact directly to your nose, your body recoiling back as your vision flashes white.

“F-fuck!” You wince, staggering a couple steps back before you crouch down, hands flying to your nose to clutch it tightly as soon as the throbbing pain sets in.

“What the hell?” He sputters, eyes flickering from his elbow to your face a couple times before he’s rushing to crouch beside you. His hands are awkwardly hovering over your body as he tries to get a better look at you. “What were you doing there? Let me see.”

“Kei,” you sniffle, letting him pry your hands away from your face with a pained hiccup, “Was just gonna scare you….ouch…”

“You’re an idiot,” he snaps, but his eyes are full of worry when he leans in to examine your face. His finger comes to gently trace over your nose, other hand tilting your head up. “..At least it’s not bleeding.”

“Mhm,” you give him a nod, “..So did i get you?”

His eyes narrow at you, but he shifts, leaning forward and nodding for you to climb onto his back. “Idiot,” he’s grumbling to himself, “Do you even have to ask?”

The way you pout at the nickname has his eyes softening ever so slightly before he’s tearing his gaze away from you. “Get on already. There’s enough cereal for both of us.”

“Hm? But you only got one spoon,” you wrap your arms around him, letting him lift you up onto his back.

“And?”

KUROO TETSUROU.

“Look at this one,” Kuroo laughs, tightening the arm around your frame to pull you closer against his side. “He looks like Garfield, doesn’t he? What a neat cat.”

“Mhm,” you hum, nuzzling your nose into his chest as you scroll through your own socials. It was a routine the two of you had, to scroll absentmindedly while tangled in each other’s limbs until someone falls asleep first— except Kuroo’s been laughing uncontrollably for the last ten minutes.

You shoot him a nervous glare each time his phone threatens to slip from his grasp, the scare he gives you always accompanied with an “Oops! That was close.”

“Tetsu…” you warn when he suddenly jolts again, frantically adjusting his grip with a shaky chuckle. Your head was right below his phone, after all. “Don’t worry, don’t worry,” he smiles, free hand rubbing your head. “I’d never let it fall on you.”

“You’d better not..” your voice trails off into a sleepy mumble, and you switch your phone off, letting it plop onto the mattress as you wrap your arms tightly around his middle. “I’m starting to feel a lil tired..”

“Hmm? I’ll be joining you soon, sleepy girl,” he soothes, hand moving to rub your upper back as you melt into his touch. “Ah! That Garfield-looking cat is back,” he gasps, followed by a hushed whisper when you stir, “Oops. Inside voice, inside voice… hm? What’s this?”

You start to fidget, awkwardly adjusting your position against his side when he suddenly falls eerily silent. maybe too silent. You count the seconds of silence— ten seconds, then fifteen. You perk up a bit, one eye opening to check on your boyfriend, but he’s suddenly jerking back and yelping the moment after, phone slipping from his hands and landing right on your head with a loud thud. “Ah-!”

“Oh— sorry, sorry!” His large hand is covering your head instantly, the other tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “Didn’t mean to drop that on you. Just scared the living daylights out of me. That garfield, damned jumpscare… you okay?”

You glare at him, but it doesn’t come off threatening with the tears filling your eyes. “Tetsu…” you growl, and he flinches. “I know, I know! I’m so sorry,” he says, pulling you closer to pepper kisses over the top of your head. “I told you…” you pout, “I’m gonna get a bump on my head now.”

His lips tug into a sheepish smile at the thought of a lump forming on your head. “That’s my bad…”

“You’re laughing!”

“I’m not!” He protests, his hands rising up in defensive as you angrily puff your cheeks out. “Nope. No way. This is no time for laughing.”

He pulls you into a hug, chuckling as you weakly push at his chest with a whine. “There, there. You can be mad at me all you want. I deserve it.”

“Although, I think you’d be cute with a bump on your head too.”

HINATA SHOYO.

If you ask him, Hinata would still swear on everything that his intention back then was nothing more than to squish you in a suffocating bear hug. He definitely did not mean to knock you onto the floor your very first day back from vacation or anything like that.

You just looked so pretty waiting for him at the airport, soft smile tugging at your lips as you checked on his location through your phone one last time before tucking it away into your pocket. The way you shifted between your toes and the balls of your feet was just so cute, too cute that he couldn’t help but start running towards you, arms stretching out to give you the biggest hug of your life.

His eyes were slammed shut the moment he leapt towards you, so he didn’t catch the way your mouth fell open in a gasp or the way your eyes widened as your weight suddenly shifted backwards. “S-Shoyo?!”

The sound of your voice has his eyes shooting open, a surprised “E-eh?” coming out when he realizes the two of you are falling— and fast. He’s barely able to snake a hand underneath your head before the two of you crash onto the floor with a loud thud.

“Ouch— oops,” he grumbles, eyes slowly blinking open as he shifts onto his elbow. There’s a sigh of relief from him when he sees that your fall was at least partially cushioned by his hand, and you seem unhurt with the way you’re blinking up at the passerby before shying away from their gaze when you realize they’d stopped to stare at the two of you sprawled out on the floor.

“Sorry— are you okay?” Hinata’s looming over you now, carefully setting your head on his lap. “You didn’t hit your head, did you?”

“N-no…” you mumble, eyes narrowing into a glare as he freezes in place. “Shoyo,” your voice falls to a whisper, “They’re all looking at us now. really closely too…”

“What?” Hinata laughs, “Shy again?”

You tear your gaze to the side, cheek puffing out a bit. “A little…”

“Want me to carry you?”

your eyes widen. “H-huh?”

“Mhm,” he’s smiling brightly, arms snaking around your body to lift you up in bridal style as you yelp, scrambling to hold onto your bag, “I gotcha. Let’s go home now!”

“..Shoyo!” Your cheeks burn when you notice the onlookers now giving you a soft smile— and the elderly couple behind them are exchanging looks before they’re whispering something to each other- you recognize it as an ‘aww’ by the way their lips move.

“This is more embarrassing!”

“Hm, is it?” He looks confused by your shyness, but his hands are tightening around you anyways, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry! I’ll get us back fast.”

[yuujispinkhair]

CHRISTMAS IN THE COUNTRY

Cowboy!Sukuna x Reader (female). Fluff. 800 words. Minors don't interact. Mentions of cigarettes. This drabble is part of my Cowboy!Sukuna series, but you don't need to know the main story to read it. Divider by @/issysh3ll

In the past, Cowboy!Sukuna never joined the annual Christmas tractor parade that all the other farmers and cowboys around your small town participate in. Sukuna thought it was stupid and cheesy, and after all, he had his reputation as the lonesome, bad boy cowboy who was more likely to be the Grinch than Santa!

But that was until you found your way into Sukuna's heart. You moved into his ranch and brought Christmas with you. And now you stand before him with that fucking cute pout on your pretty face and practically beg him,

"Kunaaaa, please you should join! Just think of how happy it makes the little kids to see all the decorated tractors!"

Sukuna huffs at first, while hugging you to his tall body, craving your warmth after he just came back from fixing the fences in those freezing temperatures,

"I don't care about those random kids."

"But you care about me, and I know you want to make me happy, right? And it would make me very happy to join that Christmas parade with you, baby."

Fuck, how could he say no to you when you give him those puppy dog eyes and that sweet smile? Sukuna laughs, grabbing your chin with one hand, and he leans down to bring his face closer to yours, grinning as he whispers against your lips,

"You are not fighting fair, baby."

His lips claim yours in a slow, teasing kiss before Sukuna pulls away again. He cocks his head and tips his cowboy hat,

"Alright, I'll drive to town and run some Christmas errands for you, ma'am."

And you laugh and blow him a kiss, telling him to drive safe just like you always do, always so sweet to him. Always worried about him, wrapping him in your love. Sukuna is already walking towards his truck, lighting a cigarette, when you open the kitchen window to yell after him that you'll cook his favorite dinner while he is away and some Christmas cookies, too. Sukuna wonders if his cheeks hurt from the icy wind blowing in his face or from how much he is smiling.

He drives to the small hardware store you used to work in before you moved into Sukuna's ranch, and he returns to you a few hours later carrying several boxes of fairy lights and LED decorations in various shapes and forms.

You laugh that sweet laugh Sukuna loves so much when you see him,

"Oh my god, Sukuna! I didn't think you'd buy the whole Christmas section!"

"Well, my girl said she wants to participate in the Christmas parade, so I will make damn sure I have the best fucking Christmas tractor there is!"

The left corner of Sukuna's lips twitches, and a second later, he breaks out into laughter, too. He lets the Christmas lights drop to the kitchen floor when you fling yourself at him, and Sukuna wraps a tattooed arm tightly around your waist, pulling you against him, smiling when you get on your tiptoes to kiss him.

Sukuna keeps his word, just like he always does when it comes to you. He spends hours in the barn decorating his old John Deere, wrapping it in fairy lights, and fixing the blinking Santa and reindeer figures to the roof.

Sukuna thinks it looks absolutely horrendous. A big blinking Christmas monstrosity. But then you walk into the barn and gasp and stare at the all-decked-out tractor. Your eyes shine even brighter than the crazy number of fairy lights that Sukuna just attached to his old John Deere. And he thinks to himself that it was all worth it.

Sukuna climbs into the tractor, extending a hand to you, which you take, and he pulls you up and into his lap. You are surrounded by hundreds of blinking fairy lights that cast the inside of the tractor into a colorful, festive light.

Sukuna's arms wrap around you as he presses play on his phone, which is connected to the tractor's radio. The Christmas playlist you shared with him starts playing, filling the inside of the tractor with your favorite Christmas songs.

"Is this what you had in mind, sweetheart?"

Sukuna asks, his smile clearly audible in his low voice. And you turn around so you're straddling Sukuna's lap and look at him, reaching out to cup his tattooed face with your small hands, beaming at him happily,

"Yes, this is even more than I had in mind! It's perfect! Thank you so much! Merry Christmas, baby. I love you."

"I love you, too. Merry Christmas, princess... but there's one more thing."

Sukuna points up at the little mistletoe that he glued to the ceiling earlier and that's dangling above your heads now. You chuckle while Sukuna grins his most charming boyish grin at you, waiting for you to kiss it off his lips with a sweet, long Christmas kiss.

And for the first time in his adult life Sukuna thinks that Christmas is truly magical.

SIGHHHHHHH oh how I missed Cowboy!Sukuna 💗💗 I went to a tractor parade, and of course, all I could think about was Cowboy!Sukuna, so I HAD to write this cute little drabble!! I hope it made you happy, too.

Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to all my fellow Sukuna lovers 💗

[whytheylosttheirminds]

espresso - rafe cameron

summary: Rafe met you a few weeks ago and he hasn't slept a wink since. You, however, have never slept better.

content: straight up smut, 18+ minors do not interact!!

You sink into your bed, the cool, crisp sheets feeling amazing against your freshly lotioned skin. Your laptop plays your favorite episode of your favorite show, the one you’ve watched so many times it’s like white noise. How do you sleep at night? Really fucking well.

Just as you begin to drift into a sea of pleasant dreams, your phone buzzes violently on the nightstand, lighting up your room. You groan at the interruption, squinting in the harsh screen light as you check to see who’s calling. The contact reads: 'tall blond (island club??)'. 

“Yes?” You mumble, answering the phone mid-yawn.

“Where are you?” His deep voice practically growls.

“Busy,” you lie.

“Doin’ what?” He tries to sound annoyed, but can’t hide the jealous curiosity.

“None of your business,” you taunt him.

“Can I come over?”

“Maybe I already have someone here,” you laugh.

“Y/n please don’t fuck with me, I need to see you, now.” You’ll never let him know the intensity in his voice makes you clench your legs together, getting wet imagining how desperate he must look right now.

“You can come over, but the door’s locked and I don’t feel like getting up,” you say, adding in another yawn to try to maintain your dismissive tone.

A loud TAP TAP TAP on your bedroom window makes you jump. You sit still in bed for a minute, heart beating with fear. Then, through the phone and the window, you hear his voice, “I already tried the door.”

Your stomach does somersaults as you pad over to the window in your tank top and plaid pajama shorts, opening the curtain to see him crouched at your window, phone still to his ear, having climbed onto the roof to get to you. He doesn’t smile, just looks you up and down with ravenous eyes. You suppress an arrogant smile. This boy is down bad. 

“I told you I’m busy,” you say into the phone. 

He hangs up on you and raises his voice so you can hear him through the window, “y/n, let me in right now or I’ll break this fucking window.”

You roll your eyes and lean forward towards the glass, purposefully pushing your cleavage together and loving the way he watches like he wants to consume you whole.

“You’re so dramatic,” you mouth to him through the glass.

Ignoring your taunt, he starts trying to pry open the window, shaking it so hard, you think he might actually just break through the lock and get it open.

“Okay, relaaaax,” you laugh, unlocking the window so he can pull it up. He’s in it so quickly, hands immediately all over you as you stand in the middle of your room. 

“Can I help you?” You ask sarcastically as he locks his lips to your neck, hands on your ass, tits, hips, hair, devouring you. You put your hands on top of his, removing them from you, but still holding onto them. You tilt your head at him, waiting for an answer.

“I can’t sleep,” he mumbles, a harsh gulp making his Adam’s apple bob. “Can’t stop fucking thinking about you.”

“Aw,” you tsk with pity. “I know you can't, baby.” You take his hands and put them back on your tits, encouraging him to squeeze. He groans and rolls his eyes back, deliciously obsessed with having you in his hands.

He sinks to his knees in front of you, and you run your hands through his hair gently, before catching the ends between your fingers and tugging, forcing his head back so he has to look up at you. His eyes are glazed over with lust, you want to lick up the long column of his neck, sweaty from his climb to your second story window. But you’re having too much fun making him weak.

“I was sleeping like a baby,” you lie. “You woke me up.”

“I..I’m sorry,” he stutters, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. Maintaining your firm grip on his hair, you scan your eyes down his body until they land on the prominent bulge building in his sweatpants.

You lean down to get close to his face, his open mouth inches from yours. “Then you better make it up to me.”

He nods quickly, licking his lips. You release your grip on his hair and stand straight. Still on his knees, head level with your middle, he reaches for you tentatively, and you give him a nod of permission. He grabs the hem of your tank top, lifting it to reveal the soft skin of your stomach. He places a kiss on your stomach, it tickles, but you refuse to flinch and reveal how excited you are. He licks a stripe up and down, over your belly button and down toward the waistband of your shorts, making your pussy flutter as his hot mouth gets closer to it. He hooks his fingers over the waistband and slowly pulls them down, having to shimmy them a bit to make it over the curve of your ass. When you’re revealed to him, no panties, he actually whimpers.

“Can I taste you, please? Need to taste you,” he begs.

He watches in raptured anticipation as you grab the bunched up hem of your tank top and pull it over your head with two arms, your tits bouncing as you throw it to the side. You step backwards, keeping your eyes locked to him, and sit on your bed. You slide back toward the middle of the bed, propped up by your elbows, opening your legs. He looks like he might pass out.

“Stand up,” you instruct.

He obeys immediately, his tall frame filling the space in your room, his big shadow cast on the wall by the dim glow from the street lamp outside your window.

“Take your shirt off.” Once again he complies with no hesitation, one hand on the back of his t-shirt, his tricep flexing as he pulls it over his head in one swift motion. 'Fucking hell he’s so hot' you think, but don’t say, as you drink in his perfect body. Just the right mix of toned and muscular. Soft, tan skin covered in goosebumps from his wildly heightened senses. 

You bite your lip and taunt him with your eyes, silently nodding your head toward the bed, an order for him to return to his knees.

He crouches low, crawling toward you. He runs his large hands up the side of your legs and keeps his eyes on you the whole way until he’s inches from your pussy. You’re soaked now, but you know he won’t tease you for it, both of you addicted to the power dynamic here.

Still keeping his eyes on you, he licks a stripe up your pussy, groaning at how good you taste and sending a deep vibration right through you.

Your head falls back, eyes rolling as you sigh at the feeling. The sight of you getting lost in the pleasure ignites a fire in him and he begins eating you out like a starving man. You grind your hips into him, pushing his face further into your pussy, covering him in your wetness. 

He suddenly switches the direction of his tongue, sharpening it into a point that begins flicking over your clit with firm pressure. Your arms give out and you fall back onto your bed with a thud. Your hands shoot to his hair, pulling hard, making him groan in delight. Your soft moans are angelic, making him harder than he thought possible. He bucks his hips into the edge of your mattress desperately. You can feel it move beneath you as he ruts into it and you know he’s getting himself off, the thought of it making you gush even more.

“Love the way this pussy tastes,” he mumbles against your inner thigh. “Been wanting to taste you all day.”

“Then shut up and do it.” It comes out harsher than you meant it, but he loves it, knowing you’re frustrated because you’re so close to coming all over his face. He doesn’t hold back any longer, aggressively pulling your clit into his mouth and sucking hard.

“Shit!” You cry out through gritted teeth. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.” 

“Never,” he says quickly before moving his tongue to your entrance, thrusting it in and out as he shakes his head back and forth so his nose rubs over your clit. Your eyes are shut so tight you’re seeing stars. 

“You gonna make me cum?” You taunt him. He just nods, not wanting to separate his mouth from you for a second. 

He makes good on his promise and you're thrown over the edge, a loud cry escaping your hoarse throat. Clamping your thighs around his head, he grabs your hips and presses you into the mattress as his tongue works you through your orgasm. 

Once you’ve settled down, he lays on top of you, head on your bare chest, listening to the slowing of your heartbeat.

“I haven’t slept since the night I met you,” he confesses quietly.

“I know, baby,” you run your nails up and down his back soothingly. “I know.”

In the morning, you pull up his contact in your phone and change his name to 'Rafe'.

a/n: this is my first time posting just fully smut no real plot and i'm scared everybody be cool about it!!!!

[shrimpybbq]

green thumb

synopsis: high school gf loves her veggie garden and so does charlie. rafe is clueless and lacks a green thumb, but does his best to be supportive.

The warm sun shone through the windows of the Cameron house, it’s rays casting a golden hue across the spacious living room that currently housed half of the aforementioned Cameron family. The tall frame of Rafe Cameron lay horizontal on the plush couch, his arms wrapped protectively around the small baby atop chest. His sweet little girl had only been born a few months ago, but she was already growing too fast for his liking. Each day was so precious to Rafe, knowing Emmy would never be this small again, so he cherished the mundane moments like this one, letting her use his chest as a mattress for as long as she wished. He basked in the rise and fall of her chest, the little grunts she let out as her dreams took place.

Rafe had been on the couch for an hour or so, letting his wife spend time with Charlie. The young boy loved his sister, but becoming a big brother was challenging. He was no longer the main focus of his parents and growing used to sharing the attention had been troubling for the boy. He would pout when his mother left his side to feed his sister, clinging tearily to her sleeve. It broke both Rafe and his wife's heart, and the pair knew they needed to do something to make Charlie know he was still just as important as before. That was when they noticed how much the little boy loved his mother's veggie garden. He was always trying to follow his mother outside, eager to play in the soil and spend time with his favourite person.

Each morning, the young mother would climb out of bed silently, her footsteps softly padding across the carpet in an attempt to not disturb the sleeping baby in the room. A soft kiss to her daughter's forehead before she disappeared outside to her veggie garden. At Tannyhill, the girl had grown a few herbs - chives, rosemary, thyme - that sort of thing. Rafe had never really noticed until one day he caught her sneaking out, and thinking the worst he followed her. He had frozen when instead of seeing her leaving the property or meeting another man, she had crouched down in front of the old neglected herb garden. Rose had tried to grow some herbs at one point before giving up on her faux housewife act, and Rafe had never really paid attention to what remained. His curiosity peaked as he watched his girlfriend gently water the soil and pat it in place, humming quietly to herself. Content with knowing her whereabouts, Rafe quietly stalked back indoors, tucking the knowledge away in his mind.

When the family moved to their new home, he decided to surprise his now-wife with a special section in the backyard just for her. He'd spent a few hours one morning while she was in town building planter boxes, filling them with soil and setting up a hose nearby. Rafe was so excited to surprise her once she returned home, covering her eyes with his hands as he led her out to the yard. Little Charlie sat on her hip despite her pregnant belly, his hands clinging to his mother.

"Hey-hey! No peeking! Don't you dare," Rafe muttered as she tried to move her head away.

"Just tell me, please?" She begged, growing impatient. It didn't help that Rafe's guiding skills left a lot to be desired.

"Just know that you're gonna like it, 'kay?"

When his hands dropped away from her eyes, she gasped softly. The perfect little garden set-up stood in front of her, all ready to go. Eyes wide, she turned to Rafe.

"Wha- how, I- how did you know?" She questioned incredulously. No-one had ever done anything like this for her. Rafe grinned down at her as his arm wrapped around her shoulders, tugging her into his frame.

"I have my ways," he drawled cheekily, "I did good, huh?"

He watched as she nodded, turning to Charlie, "Should we go have a look?" The little boy nodded and Rafe stood on proudly as his wife and son went to investigate the new garden.

Rafe noticed Emmy stirring, the girl beginning to grumble as her hunger grew. He knew she needed to be fed or soon, the whole neighbourhood would hear the girl's screams. As he slowly pandered out to the yard, his eyes fell upon his wife and the small blond boy crouched at her side. With a watering can in one hand, Charlie gently delivered water to the small carrot and tomato plots. He squealed in excitement as his mother praised him for his effort, gently patting the soil around the growing vegetables as she did the same. Rafe looked at the two proudly, wishing he didn’t need to interrupt them, but alas, little Emmy began to whine loudly, catching the attention of her mother. She turned around quickly to see the small girl baby tucked securely in her father’s arms, and stood up.

“Hungry?”

“Don’t you know it,” Rafe grunted. He handed Emmy over to his wife’s outstretched arms.

“She’s just like you, never full,” she sighed, exasperated, before undoing the oversized button up of Rafe’s she wore.

The pair settled into a moment of comfortable silence as their daughter latched, her little hands reaching to cling to the shirt lapels. Calm spread but only for a moment.

“Daddy! Look! Strawberry!” Charlie shouted. Rafe stalked over to his son and crouched down to match his height. It was almost comical to see such a tall man make himself so small, especially when he couldn’t control the expression of slight discomfort covering his face.

“Wow bud, look at that… did you and your mama do that?” Rafe grinned as Charlie nodded, pleased with himself. Rafe had never fully been able to get into the groove of gardening, finding the waiting too painful to ever properly enjoy the art. But for his son, he would do anything - and so he played along. He would ask questions, get his son to show his new plants, praise his little sprouting vegetables and make sure his son knew he was proud of him. He wasn’t above forgetting which seed plot was which, but he tried. For a few moments, silence blanketed the family as an engrossed Charlie continued to tend to him plants.

“Mama and I have carrots too!” The boy exclaimed.

“Oh yeah? When are we gonna eat them, little man? How much longer until they’re ready?” Rafe asked, reaching his hand out to steady Charlie as he began to lean over the garden. Charlie looked up at his mother questioningly, the woman now seated on the bench nearby. She hummed softly as she thought for a moment,

“Maybe another month or two? We only planted them last week, C.”

The boy returned his gaze to Rafe, smiling at his father. Rafe looked down at his mini-me, sighing as he picked the boy up in his arms, standing and walking over to his wife. She had finished feeding Emmy now, and had the sweet little girl resting against her chest.

“Good thing we still have a grocery store nearby, huh?” Rafe chuckled, “Not gon’ starve.”

He grimaced at the sudden pinching sensation against his bicep, High School Gf sending a glare to him as she pulled her hand away. Shit.

“But hey - once those carrots are ready, we should make a big salad. You know that one you like, bud? We can make it for dinner one night. How’s that sound?” The momentary anxiety was evident in the way Rafe quickly spoke, desperately hoping to avoid a meltdown from the toddler. He was at an age where his sensitivity was high.

“Promise, daddy? And we have ice cream after?”

Both Rafe and High School Gf exhaled with relief. Crisis averted. Rafe nodded down at his son and when the boy extended out his pinky finger to affirm their promise, he grinned.

“Pinky promise, C.”

the pure domesticity of this would be sickening to the old rafe lol

[siriuslylantsov]

gentle exfoliation

pairing: spencer reid x reader

description: in which you help spencer after he gets shot.

tags: fluff, established relationship, fem!reader, casual nudity (nothing explicit is mentioned), pain meds mentioned, little hurt/comfort, spencer feels undeserving, reader takes care of him.

a/n: little fluff, i just need to take care of that boy hes so :( also dont ask me about showering with crutches, idk how people do all that just dont! think about it too hard. some ace lore, i fractured my wrist and had a cast for 2 months, i wrapped it in a plastic bag and would fold it up after for the next shower. #reusereduceandrecycle am i right? anw! happy reading, lmk what you think!!

wc: 1.1k

you trail behind spencer as he slowly makes his way up the stairs. he hops onto the next step with his good leg, using the crutches to pull the rest of him up, he's methodical and careful with his movements. the doctor said stairs would be fine, as long as he took his time, but it still felt like too much exertion in your opinion. you protested when he denied derek's help but you were met with pleading eyes, i want to do this myself, forcing you to concede. that doesn't stop you from hovering a hand over the small of his back as he climbs the next step. 

a dull click reverberates through his apartment door as you unlock it, letting spencer in first. he beelines for the bedroom, and you set both your bags down on the couch, following him. he’s perched at the edge of the bed, kicking off his shoes. his shoulders are slumped in exhaustion, dark circles around his eyes as he looks up at you. you rake a hand through his hair–you realise how long it is as it passes through your fingers. you twirl the ends before letting it fall.

“wanna take a shower?” you suggest softly.

he nods and you lead him to the adjoined bathroom with his arm over your shoulder. you lean against the door frame, itching to help him. 

he looks at you, puzzled. “are you going to watch me undress?” he asks, unbuttoning his shirt.

“yeah, it's a great view,” you shoot him a cheeky wink, making him blush. deciding to be meaner, you give him a once over, checking him out unabashedly, the hue on his cheeks growing pinker. your teasing falters a little as your eyes pass over his knee and the bandage wrapped around it, his pants now on the floor. he makes note of the flash of concern that passes over your features and gives you grace by asking for your help. to which you rush to the kitchen for some cling film and return to him.

kneeling, you wrap the area in plastic, over the gauze, you don't care, making sure to accumulate enough layers so water doesn't seep through. it's a subpar job, but you spring up proud anyways. “so the wound doesn't get wet,” you explain, head tilted up.

he gives you a goofy smile, amused, but covered in so incredibly in love with you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. you tip your head back, returning the smile. even slouched and leaning, he's so tall. 

when he steps into the shower, you step in with him, work clothes still on but at least you've shed your jacket. how is he supposed to shower with one hand, you reason, his other hand holding onto the crutch. he doesn't stop you though, he doesn't stop when you turn on the water, he doesn't stop you when he suddenly feels self-conscious that he's fully naked and you're not, he doesn't stop you when you start to run the water over his skin and slowly lather the soap on his shoulders. rather, he pouts.

“what's wrong?” you immediately ask, alarmed by the look on his face.

“you're getting your clothes wet,” his words are morose, like it's the worst thing in the world. 

“baby,” you coo, bringing a soapy hand up to his face, caressing it softly. he leans into your touch. “i don't care that my clothes are wet, i'm taking them off after this anyway. i just want to take care of you. please let me.”

god, he doesn’t deserve you, and he thinks that as he looks at you, eyes tracing over your features, features that will him to surrender. he doesn’t want to be a burden. he knows you’ll take the week off, stay with him, and make sure he’s well cared for. yet you won’t push him—won’t smother him. you’ll give him space unless he asks for more. like you’re doing now, helping him because he asked for it. and still, he feels like shit. you're too sweet to him. even as you're standing there, drenched, cleary not upset by the ordeal, he still believes he doesn’t deserve this.

you watch as this inner turmoil makes its way through him, his thought process so loud you can hear him. you wipe a tear away from his face that he didn’t realise spilled, he was crying. “do you want me to leave?” you ask, extremely patient, giving him the room to say yes if he wants. he shakes his head, no. “okay, i'll stay,” you press a chaste kiss to his lips and continue washing him.

the tap squeaks as you turn the water off, moving aside so he can walk out. you strip out of your clothes leaving you in your bra and underwear, damp but better than dripping water all over the floors. you hold his crutches as he puts a bathrobe on, its purple with yellow stars on it. you follow him out of the bathroom but go back after retrieving your pyjamas and a towel. 

“i'll be two seconds,” you mumble and faintly hear him hum in acknowledgement. you quickly have a shower and change into some clean dry clothes. it's a relief, admittedly. you'd been in the same rotation of outfits, having stayed in the hospital for a few days, with an insufficient supply of clothes in your go bag. but you didn't care much, wanting to stay beside spencer. 

when you walk out, towel wiping your face, you see him sitting on the bed. fully clothed. you smile at him, feeling brighter. “oh, you changed,” you observe, you were ready to dress him. 

“mhm, folded the cling wrap for tomorrow,” he responds, and it's sweet how he thought to save it. you walk to the living room, rooting around in your bags and return with his pain meds, tylenol to his request, it being fairly mellow. you hand him a cup of water and a pill. 

“we’ll wash your hair tomorrow, okay?” he nods, looking at you over the rim of his glass. he downs the rest of the water and sets it down on his bedside table.

turning off the lights, you make your way to your side of the bed, slipping under the covers. he does the same, scooting closer to you. he's on his back since he doesn’t know which position feels comfortable yet, so you curl into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. your eyes follow the steady rise and fall of his chest. you hear him inhale, as if preparing to say something, you wait. 

“thank you,” he breaks the silence with a quiet whisper, hand wrapped around your back giving you a gentle squeeze.

you reach up and kiss his cheek, “it's nothing, i’d do anything for you.”

m.list

[vivwritesfics]

Bad influence

Big brother Daniel is a bad influence on Y/N and her Lestappen Boyfriends have to deal with it (blurb)

The door was thrown open, hitting the opposite wall. Daniel Ricciardo walked into the Monaco apartment, his arms wrapped around his sister. "She's all yours," he said and dumped her on the couch.

Max and Charles looked at her. She was so out of it, a lazy smile on her face as they looked at her. "I'll get the water," Max said as Charles joined her on the couch.

"Hey baby," he said, sitting her upright. "Did you have a fun right."

Y/N nodded her head, completely messing up her hair. "The funnest," she muttered, leaning against his side.

Suddenly Max appeared, placing a tall glass of water on the table in front of her. "I want you to drink all of that," he said, arms crossed as he looked at her.

Y/N muttered something under her breath. Something that had Max cocking his eyebrow and demanding she repeat it.

"Piss off and cuddle me!" She shouted, her words slurring. But the way she said it was like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Max shook his head and returned to his sim racing rig. If she was going to be like that, Charles could deal with her.

But Y/N pouted. "Max," she called in a singsong voice. "Max, Maxie," she shouted. "Hey, Max! Maxie, Maxie, Max!" She called his name over and over again until Max finally turned around.

When he finally did Y/N had her fingers held out towards him, curled in the shape of a heart.

Charles stayed on the couch with her, ensuring she drank her water. He put on some easy watching TV to keep her occupied while he went to get some pyjamas and a blanket.

"Someday you will find me, CAUGHT BENEATH THE LANDSLIDE!" Y/N suddenly shouted.

Max was over in an instant, hand covering her mouth as she continued to sing champagne supernova. "Schat, please, we have neighbours," he whisper shouted.

So, Y/N resorted to whisper shouting the rest of the song. It must have been playing in the taxi back or something, but Y/N couldn't remember where she heard it. No matter, it was still firmly stuck in her head.

Dealing with drunk Y/N was not a one man job. Charles and Max worked together to wrestle her into some pyjamas and under the covers.

They were going to let her sit with them while Max was on the sim and Charles watched TV in the background, but she was a liability.

Charles got her under the covers and sat beside her, making sure she wouldn't go anywhere. Max walked off to get her more water and turn off his sim.

When he got back, he climbed into bed on the other side of her. He and Charles leaned down to kiss her cheek as she drifted off into a drunken slumber.

The boys didn't sleep for some time, staying awake to make sure she was okay. Their drunk girlfriend may have been a liability, but they loved her dearly.

[rainydayathogwarts]

Hi! Love your writing!

Could I request a fic with George x reader x Fred, or poly!Marauders x reader, either is fine, and a reader that loves to wear necklace because the boys always pull on it to grab her attention???

Necklace - Poly!Marauders

i love it. literally read the request and began making scenarios in my head. warnings: allusions to sex, suggestive 1k wc

The first time it happened, the action had come from an impatient Sirius, waiting for you to finish revising for your upcoming assessment. His restless whispers of your name and tireless poking had gone ignored. You were too used to it. However, when Sirius spotted the new addition of jewellery you bore around your neck, a lightbulb lit up in his mind. A loud gasp slipped out of your mouth when his finger curled around the necklace, tugging at it hard enough to pull your neck down slightly. Sirius waited for your reaction: would he get yelled at, or would you finally give him your attention. You turned your head to the side, looked at Sirius with a shocked look on your face. "Sirius." The exasperated yet amused sigh of his name had the boy smirking.

"Can I finally have your attention now?" With an arm now draped across your shoulders, you let the boy lean into you, pressing his lips against yours. Placing your pen on the table, you cupped Sirius's face, letting his tongue slide into your mouth, deepening the kiss. He moaned quietly, the sound muffling in your mouth, and adjusted himself to hover over you slightly — something he only dared to do in the darkest corner of the library, otherwise you'd have his head. You parted from the kiss panting, looking up at your boyfriend with complete amazement, a laugh bubbling in your chest. "Sirius get down!" You whisper yelled at him, pushing his chest away from you. "Fine." The boy replied, with a grin too big for him to be up to any good. Sirius slipped onto his knees in front of you, parting your legs only for you to immediately shut them. "Absolutely not." You scolded, a hand tightly gripping his collar in a poor attempt to pull him back on the sofa booth. The boy pouted, climbing back next to you and pecking your lips a few times whilst saying in between kisses "Well at least come with me to the dorm."

And you had.

Sirius considered it a successful mission, laying down with you in his bed, getting your well-deserved rest after such intense events that had occured. He stroked your hair, watching your peaceful expressions while you slept, not having to worry about any of your boys. When the door opened and James and Remus had entered, stopping in their tracks at the view in Sirius's bed, he had grinned widely, telling them "You guys have to hear this." while James moaned "Without me?"

Remus had scolded Sirius at the time, saying something about 'being careful' and 'not hurting you', but now, looking at where you sat next to him in the common room, chatting with Marlene, he became curious. He rested his head on your shoulder, watching your face, becoming giddy at the hand you rested on his thigh, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to be the centre of your attention now. Sirius and James sat on the opposite couch to you two, giving each other a look. This was unusual for Remus. The tall boy hesitantly reached up and tugged at the chain hanging on your chest. You barely felt the pull, but it was enough for you to avert your attention to him. "Hey, you." You mumbled, cocking your head to the side. The tired boy smiled softly, returning the greeting. You reached a hand up, brushing long strands of hair away from his eyes. "Want some attention, do you?" You mumbled, opening your palm face up on Remus's thigh for him to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Remus nodded, asking shyly "Can we go on a walk or something?" You hummed, standing up and excusing yourself from the conversation, guiding Remus out of the common room by the hand. Sirius's trick really did work.

Staring at yourself in the mirror a couple of weeks later, you began thinking. Sirius and Remus had taken advantage of the Christmas gift from your parents, using it to grasp your attention, but James hadn't. You hummed — Sirius had definitely told both of the boys about it, so what was stopping James?

It only happened with him later that day, when you were in the boys' dorm, feet kicked up on Sirius' lap with Remus sat by your side. James came storming through the door to their dorm, kicking his shoes off his feet and pulling frustratedly at his tie. The three of you sat up straighter, alarmed by the boy's irritation. You had a feeling that if anything else vexed him, he might burst into tears. James didn't greet any of you until he'd put on a comfortable jumper and joggers, walking over to Sirius to press a kiss on his forehead before doing the same with Remus, who placed a caring hand on his back. James strode over to you, hooking his finger around your necklace and pulling you upwards from where you sat.

Your eyes widened when James didn't let go of your precious necklace, in fear that it might snap. However, James only continued tugging at it, forcing you to stand from your seat until he was close enough to press his lips against yours. When you finally stood straight, throwing your arms over James's muscular shoulders and tangling a hand in his luscious waves, he secured his arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground just slightly. You broke the kiss, gasping out James's name as Sirius teasingly wolf-whistled — a risk to take given the boy's mood.

James returned you to the ground, but didn't loosen his grip on you, instead digging his head into the crook of your neck as he muttered "Haven't seen you all week. Could only think about you all of detention." Your eyebrows furrowed with worry, and you asked "Who gave you detention?" "Slughorn. Could've been with you instead." You smiled, flattered by his words, and stage whispered "What to cuddle for a bit? We don't have to invite the other two." Mock complaints were immediately thrown by Remus and Sirius, who finally scoffed "We can also cuddle without you guys!"

You let James drag you to his bed, laying down so you can hold him in his arms before making eye contact with Remus, who finally stood up, walking over to you both, and leaned down to press a kiss on James's forehead. "We're here for you if you need anything, mate."

[heart-eyed-love]

Love is Embarrassing

Summary | You and Eddie embarrass yourselves in front of each other a lot, but that’s okay, it only seems to make your relationship stronger

Contains | Fem!Reader, Established Relationship, Embarrassing Moments, Cursing

Word Count | 1.8k

Currently, You, Eddie, Jeff, Gareth, and Grant, all stand outside the fence surrounding one of the abandoned houses in Hawkins. It’s not a very tall one, but it did slightly ease you, putting distance between you and the sketchy house.

“Do you guys really think this is a smart idea?” Jeff asks, looking over to you and the boys.

“No, actually. I think this is really fucking stupid.” You answer in return, agreeing with Jeff on the fact that this wasn’t the one of the smartest ideas your boyfriend has had. You’re not entirely sure what good could come from this.

“It’ll be fine… It’ll be fun.” Eddie reassured you, lightly putting his hand on your shoulder and giving it an affectionate rub. You only side eye him.

Grant is already making his way closer to the fence when he asks, “Who’s going first?” And when no one answers you narrow your eyes at your boyfriend.

“Wasn’t this your idea?” You ask

He rolls his eyes, “Fine, whatever…” He approaches the fence. And in an attempt to impress, he begins climbing over the fence with ease. Trying to be all slick and suave about it, he’s about to jump off the fence, and be successfully on the other side. But once he does, his jeans catch on the fence… and they rip.

And you cringe once he’s back on the ground, having unfortunately ripped his go-to jeans. His face falls immediately when he notices, but the boys behind you are giggling.

“Dude…” Is all Jeff mutters out between giggles, but Gareth has always been one to make it worse.

“Are those Bats?!” He’s now cackling at his boxers, and even though Eddie's glare would usually make him shut up, the fence between them has made him brave.

“Shut up.” he doesn’t dare look at you yet, cheeks aflame. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, so you’re not sure why he’s so flustered.

“Maybe it’s a sign.” You shrug your shoulders, looking over to your boyfriend, who’s now currently trying to get a better view of his ass, trying to make the rip less noticeable.

Without looking up at you he says, “We’re going in.” You roll your eyes and make sure way over to the fence. Climbing up carefully as to not be in the same predicament as Eddie. He holds his hands out for you, helping you get down safely.

“Let me see…” You say, now that you can get a better look, hand on his back to turn him so you can see. The other boys begin climbing over the fence as Eddie lets you examine the rip in his pants.

“Is it fixable?” He asks softly.

“Oh, Yeah. We’ll have these fixed right up…” You pat his shoulder, “But for now…” You place your hand on his ass right over the rip with a smirk, “This will have to do…”

Last night was the first night sleeping over at your boyfriend's house. It was a domestic night of bliss, dinner was eaten at the table together, skin care was done, and you both brushed your teeth as you looked at each other through the mirror with a smile.

It was perfect, and the night was concluded by snuggling into his side, head resting on his chest as you both passed out, faster than you ever had. It felt right.

But the next morning was a different story.

You were woken by a soft shake to your shoulder, with eyes scrunched almost closed, you lifted your head from Eddie's chest and felt a stickiness on your cheek. Cracking your eyes a bit more open you’re able to see a wet patch on his shirt. You now know what the stickiness was as you violently tried to wipe the embarrassment off your cheek, then the same to the patch of drool on his chest.

“Shit, I’m so sorry…” You grumble, and Edide can’t help but smile at the pleasant sound of your morning voice.

“No, don’t worry about it, I just was wondering if you were hungry? I thought I could go get some breakfast…?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice…” You say softly, cheeks a little flushed.

“K, let’s go get dressed and brush our teeth and get rid of that morning breath.” He says with a smile, and your eyes go wide and to your mouth in an instant.

“Oh my god.” You whine out turning away from him, and he chuckles, following right behind. Pushing himself up against your back.

“Hey! Don’t be embarrassed, at least it’s not as bad as mine…” He says, lifting himself onto his elbow to get a better advantage on you as he begins blowing his breath into your face. You can’t help but giggle as you squirm away, cause yeah, at least it’s not as bad as that.

“Eddie, stop!” You now move your hand to cover your nose, a smile evident on your face now.

“Let’s go brush our rats' nests out and our morning breath away together, Baby…” He smiles cheekily as he takes your hand to pull you up with him, as he attempts to rake his other through your hair.

He then leans in to try and kiss you, and you pull away with a scrunch of your nose, “Is that really a good idea right now?” You tease.

“I can’t think of a better one.” Giving you the sloppiest kiss you had the honor of receiving.

You and Eddie had been in his bedroom when he acted upon his urges. He always thought it was so much fun to wrestle and play around with you, and he was happy to find out you had just as much fun.

But today, he took it to another level. An unfair level.

He had you pinned down on the bed, and he was tickling you relentlessly. And after having a pretty fulfilling dinner that wasn’t really going well with your stomach.

Giggling as you beg him to stop, losing your breath as he continues, the unfortunate happens. And a small fart escapes you.

You freeze under him, and he’s frozen too as he hovers over you. You can only imagine the shade of your face as Eddie stares down at you. He’s not even laughing, honestly that would feel better than the intense staring he seems to be doing right now.

Wanting to get out of this vulnerable and embarrassing position faster you sit up quickly and shove him off of you.

He’s falling onto his butt on the bed, with a slightly offended, “Hey!” And he’s pushing you back down so he’s on top of you again, moving down to kiss you fiercely.

He pulls away with a teasing smirk, “That was your first fart with me, Babe. Feel proud.”

You roll your eyes, but feel the blush rising to your cheeks again, and he’s leaning back down to kiss you again.

Tonight was special. Usually when Eddie invited you to his shows it consisted of his band playing covers of they’re favorite artists and bands. Lately, they’d been feeling bold enough to start playing some of Corroded Coffin's originals.

Those were your favorites.

But tonight Eddie wanted to do something special for you.

He had made the guys practice ‘Head Over Heals’, he knew it was your favorite. He hoped you’d think this was a romantic gesture, cause he’d never play such a song for anyone else.

He was putting his metalhead dignity on the line for you.

The guys had tried to tease him about it, but he was quick to remind them that he was the only one who actually has a girlfriend and that shut them up pretty quick.

That Tuesday as he saw you sat in the record breaking crowd of 10 drunks, he felt his nerves start getting the best of him. There was a small pit in his stomach at the thought of making a fool of himself.

And when he starts playing the song that has had him worked up since he started practicing it, his eyes find yours, widened and surprised. That doesn't help his nerves much as the first words he sings are slightly high and scratchy, and he cringes to himself slightly. Pulling himself together for most of the song, but unfortunately a few more voice cracks and off tone notes were sung.

After they had finished and went backstage, he plopped himself down on the rickety couch with a loud groan.

“That was totally shit man.” Gareth said as he made his way backstage too, earning a punch to the shoulder from Jeff, big eyes signaling him to shut up. But Eddie was feeling too distraught to give a single ounce of a shit about what Gareth thought.

“I think you sounded sweet…” Grant admits, trying to make him feel better.

“Yeah, don’t listen to Gareth, he’s a dipshit.” Jeff glares over at the boy.

Eddie, only wanting to be romantic for you, but who would swoon over a nervously high pitched, scratchy rendition of their favorite song?

He lets out a groan into his hands. “Eddie…?” A soft voice causes his head to snap up. There you stood, a sweet smile on your face, and he watched the other guy scramble out of the room as you approached the couch he was sitting on.

You sat yourself down next to him, so close, your bare thigh pressed to his denim clad one. “You sang my favorite song…?” At your words he looks over to you, and your eyes somehow are able to hold the most affection that's ever been directed to him. He knew you would never judge or make fun of him for something like that, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a humbling experience for him. “I thought you said you’d never stoop so low?” You smirk.

“Yeah well, look what that got me…” He scoffs and looks straight forward, and you can tell by his tone this might be a bit more serious.

“I thought it was great…”

“I sounded like an idiot.” He looks over to you.

“No, you didn’t. I thought you sounded sweet…”

“Sweet? I sounded tone deaf.”

“Well, we both know that you aren’t, I think you were just nervous, Eddie. But, just because it was a little pitchy doesn’t mean I didn’t think it was the best thing I’ve ever heard anyone sing.”

You’re smiling so sweetly at him, and he can’t help but chuckle, “Don’t be a suck up…”

“I’m not, like really, that was the sweetest and most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me. I loved it… I Love you…” You admit, feeling your own rush of nerves. It was the first time either of you had said it, but it felt fitting. He was vulnerable for you, you can be vulnerable for him.

He stares at you for a second too long, and you look away nervously, “Sorry, that was weird.” You say, but he vigorously shakes his head.

“No! No, it’s not weird… I just didn’t expect that shitty performance to pull an ‘I Love you’ from you…” He chuckles again, “I Love you too…” And he’s leaning in now, kissing your lips softly.

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 63 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The arrival of the fourth member of the royal family means that Noah gets to meet his little sister. He has a lot to teach her, and he's planning on starting today.

Warnings: fluff, new baby, hospital, age gap (18+)

Length: 1200 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Several months later....

You were exhausted, and everything still hurt a little bit. The best word to describe the night of sleep you just had was restless. There were nurses in and out of your room all night long, and the harsh fluorescent lights were enough to wake you up at odd times and make you wish you were at home. You could hear the faint sound of babies crying as your husband, who had curled his large body up and spent the night in the arm chair, leaned down to kiss your forehead.

"I'll go pick up Noah and bring him back to meet his sister. You want me to get you some coffee?" he whispered, letting the baby doze in the bassinet next to your bed.

"Please," you told him, tipping your head back so he could kiss you. His lips were always perfect, but there was a reverence in his touch today that left you a little breathless. 

His fingers brushed your cheek and trailed down your neck before he stood tall and paused to look at your daughter who was the most precious, tiny thing you had ever seen. Bradley's smile grew and grew as he leaned a little closer to her and adjusted the pink pacifier in her mouth. "I'll be back with your brother," he told her, and then with one more kiss pressed to your forehead, he made his way out of the room to get Noah from Penny's house.

You sighed and stretched out in the bed, letting your gaze skim the placard that was affixed to the bassinet.

Noelle Bradshaw

Born: April 22nd

Length: 19 inches

Weight: 6 pounds, 14 ounces

"I love you." Your whisper was soft, but you watched her squirm a little bit in response. Part of you wanted her to wake up again so you could hold her, but you knew that she was probably as tired as you were. The Christmas theme of her name would always make you and Bradley smile, and you fell in love with it as soon as he first mentioned it to you. The theme for her nursery was purple watercolor flowers, but you made sure there was a pretty green pine tree painted on the back of her door. 

You felt yourself starting to doze while you waited for your boys to come back, and just as you heard Noelle start to stir, the door opened slowly. "Mommy!" Noah called out, running right past the bassinet and his sister with a gift bag in his hand. He climbed up onto the bed near your feet as Bradley shut the door behind him with a coffee cup in his hand. 

"Be careful, Bub. Mommy is really tired," he said softly, but you already had Noah snuggled up at your side, and he was pulling a mug from inside the bag.

"Me and Daddy got you this for your coffee, but you can still use the other ones at home, too."

"Thank you, sweet Noah," you told him, kissing his head as you read the purple mug which said Noah and Noelle's Mommy. "It's perfect. Are you ready to meet her?"

"Of course," he said with a casual shrug, but when Bradley scooped up the wriggling newborn, Noah's eyes lit up. "She's so little."

You watched as Bradley held her close, his nose bumping her much smaller one playfully as he whispered her name. She really was so little. Even the pink cap on her head was dwarfed by his hand as he cradled her and kept her safe. You sipped your French vanilla coffee and ruffled Noah's hair as Bradley said, "Little Duchess Noelle," while he knelt next to the bed with her in his arms. "Meet your big brother, Prince Noah." 

Your son was so gentle as he reached for his sister, it made you gasp as tears filled your eyes. He'd been waiting months, asking about her every day, and now his tiny best friend was here. You watched as she pulled her hand free from her swaddle and reached out to him.

"Hi," Noah whispered, and sure enough her little fingers wrapped around his thumb, and he watched in wonder as she yawned. "Hi, Noelle."

"I think she loves you the most," Bradley said with a grin in your direction. "I'm just a peasant, obsessed with my royal family."

You shook your head before you leaned closer to him. "You're a Daddy in shining armor."

He kissed you while he laughed and held his daughter in one strong arm. He laced his fingers with yours and asked Noah, "Are you going to teach her everything you know?"

"Everything," he said, poking at her arm as she smiled at him.

"Like what?" you asked, taking another sip of your coffee.

Noah thought it through for a few seconds before he said, "Like how Daddy's not really allowed to cook anything. And what kind of snacks are the best."

Bradley groaned as you giggled. "Those are some important life lessons," you agreed. "What else?"

"Well I'll have to teach her how to feed Skittles and where all the stuff is at home."

"Yeah, Bub. You've got a lot of work ahead of you. Think you can handle it?" 

Noah was nodding as Noelle reached for his cheek while she yawned again. "Can we all go home soon?" he asked. "I really do have a lot to show her."

You and Bradley had to hold back your laughter, but you managed to say, "Hopefully we can all go home later today. But until we do, I packed you some coloring books to work on. Want to do one with Daddy while I feed Noelle?"

The four of you all ended up in the hospital bed together for a few hours. Noah worked his way through most of his books, and Noelle fell asleep again. Bradley got you anything you needed, and when it was finally time to go home, he was in full dad-mode. You watched the way he got both kids and then you situated in the Bronco. He double checked to make sure everyone was buckled in before he pulled away.

"I'll take care of everything for the next few days," he whispered as he reached for your hand. "You can rest and feed Noelle, and I'll take care of everything else."

"And then we can take care of everything together," you promised.

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

The end!

This family of four has been so much fun to write about! Thank you for joining me on this long journey! Thanks for sharing your thoughts and ideas along the way. Who knows...maybe we will see them again! Big thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls

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[222col]

summer at the zweig estate

★ art donaldson x reader ★ patrick's little sister has always had a crush on art, it might not be the unrequited school girl crush she always thought when one summer at the zweig estate, art makes his move. ★ 2.8k ★ 18+ | cw: smut

summer at the zweig estate is always the most exciting time in the calendar year. art spends most of the season staying at patrick's, your parents darting somewhere across the world, leaving the three of you alone to spend the summer as you wish. just two years separate you and your brother, he's always instructed to look after you during your parents time abroad. "i can look after myself," you tell your mother, brushing you off before departing. "listen to your brother." patrick ruffles your hair. "actually, art's in charge, do whatever he tells you. he has more sense than either of you." the three of you wave your parents off down the driveway. "i'll happily do whatever you tell me to, art." your big eyes dazzling up at the tall blonde. your innocent facade making art blush. "don't even try it, donaldson. i know what you're thinking." patrick hits his friend on the back of the head as he turns into the house. "but i wasn't- i didn't even do anything!"

art's room is situated between you and your brothers, it was originally a spare bedroom, but dubbed art's after his first few summers on the estate. posters and belongings of his staying there through winter when he's been away at school with patrick. you spend more time in art's room then you'd like to admit, stealing random t-shirt's he's left behind and reading books he keeps at your house. occasionally sleeping in his bed when you knew it would go unnoticed by your parents. you'd always had a crush on art, he'd been in your life for years, and isn't it almost a right of passage to have a crush on your brother's best friend? as you got older you tried to rationalise, tried to distract yourself from your crush, but it wasn't until you noticed art flirting back, that you realised maybe this wasn't some unrequited school girl crush. maybe you can get what you want, and piss off your brother in the process, which is always a bonus.

last summer art watched you grow into your body, he'd always had a thing for you, but last summer was when everything became a little more real. swimming and relaxing by the pool with you wasn't so innocent anymore, definitely not when he got a boner watching climb out of the water. watching you come down to breakfast in just an oversized t-shirt, that happened to be one of his, and having to excuse himself to his room, because grey joggers aren't your friend when you're turned on. he'd been liking your social media posts during his time away from you, making small conversations with you throughout the year, waiting for summer to come around.

art knew patrick would kill him for even thinking about touching you, let alone acting on it. to patrick, you're his annoying little sister, but you're his little sister, and he refuses to acknowledge that you've even kissed a boy, despite the fact he's unfortunately seen it with his own eyes at one of the famous zweig summer parties. as much art never wanted to upset patrick, he was struggling with the idea of resisting you for a whole summer.

"so, first party this saturday then, yeah?" patrick drumming his hands on his knees, sat with you and art around the pool. "yeah, sounds good." you respond, laid on a sun lounger, white bikini and dark sunglasses hiding your eyes. "what's the theme?" art questions, with backwards cap and red swim trucks. every zweig party had a theme, you suggested it during one of the first ones you and your brother hosted, now you can't have a zweig party without a theme. propping yourself up onto your elbows. "1996 romeo and juliet." patrick hums at your idea. "it is one of our favourite films, the outfits are good, i like it." smiling at your brother you lay back on the lounger. "get the invites out then, zweig."

the party's in full swing by the time you're zipping up your dress, your angel costume adorning your body. walking your way down the stairs, people styling graphic button ups, sheer shirts and catholic inspired clothing. pouring yourself a drink in the kitchen and making your way to the dance floor set up in the garden. patrick's already made his mark on some girl in a cleopatra costume, rolling your eyes and moving past him to the centre of the floor. art makes eyes with you, shimmying through the bodies to reach you. silver metal armour clad to his skin, smirking as he looks you up and down. "looks like we're matching." he whispers in your ear over the loud music. "i think you did it on purpose." you whisper back, purposefully letting your lips graze the skin of his earlobe. "so what if i did?" your cheeks are almost touching, the music vibrating from the floor up your bodies, surrounded by dancing and drinking. it would be so easy to kiss you, it's all art can think of. moving his face to look at you, lips mere inches apart as you lean up to look at him.

the next thing, art's being dragged away from you by your brother, winking at you at patrick pulls him away from the crowd. "stop trying to fuck my sister." patrick laughs at his friend, sipping his beer. "i'm not!" he protests before patrick palms art's crotch. "why are you hard after talking to her then?" art blushes, patrick only laughs and returns to the crowd to find cleopatra. the party carries on to the early hours, the boys finding you to dance with you, lifting you up onto their shoulders after one too many drinks. slumping down on a lounger next to the pool once the party starts clearing out, patrick groaning as he falls onto the end of the lounger you're perched on, head falling in your lap. art perching on the floor to the side of you both. "isn't cleopatra waiting around for you? thought for sure she'd put out." you laugh at your brother. "she already did, fucked her in the downstairs bathroom an hour ago." shaking your head, pushing patrick off of you and into the pool. "you're so gross." patrick comes up for air, shaking the water out of his hair. "oh, you're asking for it, zweig!" your brother smirks, pulling you by your arm into the pool. art's sat laughing, before the two of you pull him in by his feet.

the three of you are laughing, splashing each other before art realises that your white dress has become sheer from the wetness. freezing in his spot, watching the fabric reveal your skin beneath it as you continue messing around in the pool. patrick notices art's gaze on you in his still state. "oh for god sake, you couldn't have worn a bra?" patrick laughs, pushing your head underwater. coming up for air, you realise your chest is fully exposed through the wet fabric of your dress. sober, you would have immediately covered up and ran for a towel, but in your drunken state, you're not so bothered. "and you, stop eye fucking my sister." patrick jumps on his friend, the two of them wrestling playfully in the water. laughing at them, you climb up the ladder out of the pool, feeling art's eyes on you. "c'mon, you two, bed time."

entering your room as the boys enter their own, stripping the wet dress from your body, hanging it over the chair at your desk. drying yourself off before changing into some pjs, plugging your phone in and removing your make up. deposing of the used make up wipe as your phone pings.

you looked beautiful tonight btw, if the way i was looking at you didn't make it obvious enough

your heart almost stops beating when you read the message from art. you know it's the alcohol running through his veins that made him confident enough to send the message. but that doesn't mean you're not blushing at the words. laying down on your bed, typing a message back to him.

thanks, art <3 you looked really good too, if the way i was looking back at you didn't make it obvious either

you can hear his phone ping on the other side of the wall. holding your breath as he likes the message. patrick is going to kill the both of you. putting your phone on your nightstand, falling asleep quickly as dreams of art wash over you.

stealing shy glances with art over breakfast, patrick suggests a movie day to distract from the hangovers. grabbing a blanket from your room, you slump onto the couch, patrick balled up on the armchair, art taking his place next to you. sharing the blanket with him as you scroll through netflix to find a movie. "keep your hands where i can see them, you two. i'm not having anything disgusting happen under that blanket while i'm sat right here." patrick orders, half-lidded as he rests his head on the arm of the chair. "ugh, shut up, pat." sticking some random movie on the tv as the three of you sit quietly together, snacking on all your favourites and laughing at the shitty jokes in the movie.

hearing snores from the chair next to you, art's hand reaches over the blanket to yours. his pinky finger barely touching yours. snapping your head towards his, finding his signature half smile already looking your way. your heart beating so fast, at just the contact of your hands. he looks over again at a sleeping patrick as he laces his fingers through yours. sitting together like that for a few minutes, before art shuffles himself closer to you. snaking his arm around your waist, bringing you to lean on his chest. "is this okay?" he whispers to you. turning to look at him, smiling and nodding your head. melting into his chest as you carry on watching the movie.

"what the fuck?" your eyes flutter open, your brother standing in front of you. both of you not realising that you must have fell asleep in each others arms. "why were you fucking cuddling on the couch?" art's blushing, too shy to speak. "patrick, calm down. we all fell asleep, i must have just moved over to him in my sleep." art squeezes your waist away from patrick's eyes, grateful for your lies. stretching as you move away from art to sit up properly. "oh yeah, that sounds so believable." patrick's arms are crossed, playing the protective big brother role. you roll your eyes at him. "patrick leave her alone, stop making it a thing." art states, cracking his neck. "oh of course you'd say that, donaldson. c'mon, i wanna go play tennis." art's face scrunches up at the idea. "i'm too hungover." patrick just stares at his friend. "it wasn't a question. let's go."

you know full well this has nothing to do with tennis, they probably won't even take their rackets to the court. you know patrick is taking art to the tennis court to warn him away from you, doing the 'if you touch my sister i'll kill you' thing that he does with every guy you bring home. you can almost see the idea of anything happening with art slipping through your fingers, no one ever comes out of the big brother talk with patrick ready to carry on dating you. patrick manages to scare everyone away with whatever goes down on those talks, you know he's just trying to protect you, while stroking his ego as he watches these boys almost shit their pants at his intimidation. grabbing your blanket from the couch, you go back up to your room to hide away for the rest of the day. it's late at night when your phone pings and lights up the room.

come to my room in 20 mins?

you read art's text, your mouth agape. you thought he'd steer clear of you for the rest of summer, not invite you into his room that same night. you jump out of bed, replying quickly.

sure :)

scrambling around your room, combing your hair, putting on some chapstick. slipping back into your gingham sweats and white tank. calming down your breathing before leaving your room and knocking lightly on art's door. he opens the door quietly, smiling down at you and inviting you in. he closes the door behind you, sitting on the edge of his bed and patting the space next to him, you of course oblige and take a seat next to him. it's peacefully quiet for a few moments, the two of you just looking at each other. "so why did you want-" your words are stopped by art's lips on yours. only briefly before he pulls away to look at you. your cheeks are red, a shy smile resting on your lips before pushing them back onto art's. he hums into the kiss, placing his hand on the curve of your back.

"patrick had a big talk with me today." he pulls away from your lips, his hand staying on your back. "i thought he might have." you sigh, awaiting the words from art's mouth. assuming this was a pity kiss, a what could have been kiss, a this will never happen again kiss. "he said he knows i've liked you for a long time, i didn't know he knew." your lip is between your teeth. "you like me?" he laughs lightly at your words. "of course i do, i thought you knew that, silly girl." he places a soft kiss to your forehead. "patrick said he's okay with it," you can't help the smile that spreads across your cheeks. "as long as i promise not to hurt you, and that it won't come between him and i's friendship, which of course i agreed with both."

you can't stop yourself from pressing your lips against art's again, hands in his hair as he chuckles into the kiss. your bodies falling onto the bed, the kiss deepening as your legs tangle together. shuffling up the bed, art rolls his body on top of yours. hands roaming your body as his tongue slips into your mouth. pulling at the hem of his shirt, signalling you want it off. smirking into the kiss, he slips his t-shirt over his head. his lips softly kissing the skin on your neck, your hands caressing his exposed back. "i want you," you whisper against his ear. "are you sure? you don't have to do anything you don't want to." he looks deeply into your eyes. "i want you art, please."

he's gentle with you, slowly removing your clothes, admiring your body as he slips out of his shorts. "you're so beautiful." he whispers, his big hands exploring your naked body. pushing your legs open with his knee, slipping his hand between your bodies to stroke your clit. whimpering at the sensation as he gradually increases the pace, not breaking eye contact as you hold back your moans. art works you to orgasm, watching every movement you make and worshipping every noise that slips from your lips. "such a good girl, you ready for me baby?" nodding your head as he lines himself up with your entrance, leaning down to kiss your lips as he slowly slips inside of you. letting you adjust to his size. "please, art, fuck me."

his hips start to move as you struggle to keep quiet, stroking your hair and whispering words of encouragement as his lips suckle against your jaw. his thrusts slowly starting to speed up, the room filling with sounds of skin slapping and quiet moans from you both. compliments fall from art as he sucks and nips at the skin on your neck, sweat forming on both your bodies as his thrusts get sloppy. pulling out of you suddenly as his come falls over your stomach, whimpering at the feeling. "fuck, that was better than i've ever dreamt." he breathes out, falling to the side of you. "you've dreamt about fucking me?" you giggle up to him, placing a kiss on his cheek. "oh, so many times." he laughs as you both come back down to earth. art grabbing a towel from the drawer and cleaning you up. slipping your tank and sweats back onto your body as art does the same, wrapping his arms around you as you both fall asleep in art's room.

patrick is already sat at the breakfast bar when the two of you enter the kitchen the next morning. "i know i said i was okay with it, but i'd just like to remind you both that the walls are very thin. you wasted no time at all did you, donaldson?" patrick's half laughing into his morning coffee, art blushing before pouring you both a cup. "i never said you could give her a hickey, you perv." patrick hits art on the back of the head. "i don't remember you saying i could fuck her either but i still did that." art mumbles into his coffee. shaking your head, laughing at the boys, hopping onto the counter as patrick began to chase art around the kitchen. "don't get all cocky now, donaldson! i can still change my mind!"

[starboye]

pairing: sub!nate jacobs x dom!male reader

request: please write about your nate jacobs in a collar thirst omg i would kill for thatttt! him being a good lil pet and taking whatever his master gives him omfg yes

warnings: smut, edging, praise kink, cum denial, teasing, cursing, sub and dom, bondage

chefs note: i think i might have a thing for big submissive men

people get a little surprised to hear you're the dominant one in the bedroom when you have a tall beefy man next to you, little do they know that same tall beefy man was currently sitting on your bed with the prettiest pink collar that slept your name in diamonds around his neck and his hands tied to the head board awaiting your every order.

"oh nateee" you call out to him in a sing song tone as you walk into the room in a slutty set of lingerie that showed off your ass a little "what do you think" you asks doing a little spin for him, your ass immediately catching his eyes "i- i love it" nate stutters just wanting you to finally let him fuck you in that sweet sweet lingerie "y'think so" you question.

"mhm mhm" nate nods as some drool rolls down his lip "oh nate your drooling again" you pout climbing onto the bed and crawling over to him, your ass in clear view as you do so, you'd been teasing nate like this for the past 2 hours, you would put on one of your many sets of thin sexy lingerie and fault it in front of nate, forcing him to watch you flaunt your ass as he his dick strained against underwear.

you hover over his dick as you wipe the saliva from his lip "please y/n please i need it" nate begs trying to kiss you "no nate i told you i was just gonna show you some lingerie sets and get your opinion" you tease "you know this is torture for me" he says, a hint of desperation in his voice as his hips buck upwards into your ass making you bounce up a little.

"what'd i tell you about disobeying me nate" you say planting yourself onto nates lap, his dick poking at your hole "to never do it" nate whines "then why do it" you ask "i need to be in you so bad please y/n" nate whines rolling his hips under you for just a smidgen of friction, and right then an idea pops in your head, you pull nates aching red cock out of his boxers and its almost bigger than your hand.

you lightly stroke his cock "up down up down up down" nate mutters to himself as beads of pre cum form on his tip "good boy likes it just like that huh" you tease rubbing your finger on his red swollen tip "mhm s'good" nate says trying to hold himself from cumming to savor the moment but he cant, not with the way your hand tugs at his length "m'gonna cum" nate moans but his high is cut off by you removing your hand from his dick.

"no no no no please y/n please i wanna cum" nate pleas struggling against his restraints "what does this say" you ask pulling at his collar "y/n's toy" nate recited "that's right so if you wanna cum you're gonna have to work for it" you say kissing nate and leaning back up, nates lips chasing for more contact, you were basically depriving the man of everything he wanted and making him delve deeper and deeper into being nothing but your cum boy.

"now are you gonna hold it in for me" you ask as you bring nates dick into your hand once more "i promise" nate says lifting his head too look at you, lust and control filled your eyes while his eyes were filled with need and desperation, you began stroking his dick again as nate could feel the climax bubbling up inside of him "that's my good boy keep holding it" you cooed laying small kisses on his neck.

after hours of edging nate had become a babbling mess, his dick covered in saliva and other fluids as you enjoyed the sight before you, nate begging to cum, his wrists now bruised after pulling at the restraints so much "y/n i need it" nate begged as tears rolled down his messy face, his neck ruined with hickeys and some on his chest "such pretty begging" you mutter as you continue to deny the man of his climax.

"y/n please" nate cries, his legs shaking under you, you look into his eyes to see he really wants this, he needs this "fine you can cum" you say and before you can finish the sentence nate cums in your hand as his muscles and body contorts with each spurt "thank you" nate shakily says as his body finally calms down from all the shaking before he faints.

"you're my good boy" you say with a smile as you lick the cum from your fingers and kiss nates forehead, you take the restraints off his wrists and inspect the bruises on them "they'll be fine in a couple days" you mummer to yourself before taking the collar off, you tilt his head to the side to admire the love marks you put on his neck, now he really belongs to you.

taglist: @spermeboy @mailmango @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat

[moonstruckme]

our girl with the emt!marauders is constantly in pain lol. how would you feel maybe writing about one of the boys getting hurt for a change? she gets called to take whoever home! it can be funny cuz it’s usually her ass who needs saving. (only if it’s tickling that writin itch)

Thanks for requesting babe!

cw: back injury

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 708 words

Sirius is already hobbling out of the front door when you pull up at the curb, James hovering beside him like he’s about to keel over and Remus walking behind them both with a worried indent between his brows. 

“Hey.” Sympathy bends your voice as James opens the door for him. Sirius grimaces, slowly lowering himself into the passenger seat. “Wow, I didn’t expect it to be this bad. You can’t straighten up at all?” 

“Nope,” James answers for him. He comes around to your side of the car and leans through the open window for a kiss. “He’s strained a muscle in his lower back. Only thing to do right now is rest and ice it.” 

Remus passes Sirius his seatbelt before he can reach for it himself. “Try to keep still,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss across his temple before looking at you. “Please try to drive extra carefully so he doesn’t hurt himself, love. And don’t let him do anything at home.” 

“This has got to be the first time I’ve been asked not to help out around the house,” Sirius teases. “I’d like to use my current privileges to extend this dish-doing ban indefinitely, please.” 

You find yourself in agreement. Is Remus really worried about Sirius rushing home to do chores? Just last week you had to show him where you keep the broom. You’ve lived together for over a year. 

Your dubiousness must show on your face, because James laughs and says, “He’s already injured himself worse by trying to put the moves on Remus.” 

“Hardly my fault,” Sirius says dismissively. “He’s very tall, have you noticed? I don’t have the proper equipment for mountain climbing.” 

You snort, and he grins, a true show of resilience by a soldier down. 

“I won’t let him do anything,” you tell Remus solemnly. 

“Thanks, lovie.” James plants another kiss on your cheek, rounding the car to lead Remus back inside. “Rest and ice,” he reminds you. “Keep an eye on him!” 

“I twinge something in my back and suddenly it’s like I’m not even allowed to speak for myself,” Sirius gripes.

You laugh, putting the car into gear. “Welcome to my world.” 

You take Remus’ cautioning very seriously, drifting into all your stops and easing slowly around each turn. The drive takes about twice as long as it usually would, but there are no incidents. When you get home, you do your best to give Sirius the princess treatment the boys always give you when you’re injured or ailing; you insist on opening his door for him and helping him inside, you set up a mountain of pillows to support the ice pack behind his back, and you put the remote in his hand so he can choose something to watch while you make the both of you lunch. 

“I feel very lame,” Sirius says as you come back with sandwiches and drinks. It’s a repetition of the same complaint you heard every time you started to slow down for a turn or glanced over to check on him during the drive here. “But I will say, this luxury service is starting to make up for things.” 

“Really?” You grin at him. “You’re not experiencing any urges to get out the vacuum or lift heavy things?” 

“Oddly enough, no.” 

“Crazy.” You take a bite of your sandwich, cozying up on the other side of the couch to watch the film he’s chosen. 

“You know,” Sirius drawls, “I realize I’m making this all look very easy, but I wouldn’t reject a cuddle.” 

You turn, and your boyfriend is looking over at you with a raised brow. You smile sheepishly. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

He scoffs. “Sweetheart, if I’m too injured to cuddle, they may as well put me down. C’mere.” 

You scoot to the other side of the couch, curling into your boyfriend’s side but covertly leaning your weight against the back cushion instead. 

“Better.” Sirius kisses the top of your head firmly. 

“We probably shouldn’t tell Rem and Jamie about this.” 

“Oh no. When they get home, the story is that I was miserable being laid up all day and didn’t enjoy it at all. God forbid I have to do it again tomorrow.”