#might not have much time to gif this weekend but had to make something real quick bc as always stanning him is my greatest life choice

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Spiritual Siblings

Bruce: My assassin kid can't be that normal!

Damian: Well, I’m completely emotionally stable by Amity Park standards. The problem is with you. Obviously.

~~~~~

Damian had long found peace and home in Amity, so he did not worry that the new family and Gotham might not accept him.

Sure, Al Ghul had lived without any contact with his biological father all these years but he could safely say that he had a happy childhood. First years were hard and he was raised more as a weapon than a human being. Even so, after that a ghost who decided to become his brother appeared and everything changed.

Damian still does not know what Ra's owes Phantom but Danny has a right to take him, without prior notification, to live with Fentons, to visit Aunt Alicia at her farm, and to make Vlad’s weekends much less calm and boring. Danny jokes that he just steals him as a hostage when Al Ghul does not pay taxes for using Lazarus Pits. Whatever the reason, he already has a family that loves him.

However, he still wanted to make an effort to fit in this one too. The model of conduct certainly was his older brother. No, not the oldest, of course. To be honest Dan wasn’t the kind of a man that could charm you from the first minute. But Danny, in Damian’s experience, had a calming effect on people. So he tried to act like him.

And, yeah, for lack of experience, he was more fun!Danny at home and super!Danny on patrol but he also really tried not to get any of his own assassin personality in his new-self and was tired of it. He couldn’t get a 100% match. Fine. Still doesn’t look like anyone in this house really likes him, so whatever.

Damian understood why Bruce didn't like his company. Jazz had long ago explained to him the importance of voluntary consent. His mother did a terrible thing. Al Ghul was not a child and therefore he was ready to admit it. However, he also understood that children were not responsible for the actions of their parents.

As a biosocial being, he wanted to be more than just a painful reminder of what had happened to Bruce. Wayne's ignoring of his existence was rude. But Damian wouldn't force this man to spend time with him just because he was legally obligated to take care of his well-being. He wasn't going to prove anything to Batman, and he definitely didn't need his attention. The care of his real family is enough.

But Damian really tried to get along with new potential siblings. He even shared Sam's and Danny’s special jokes with some of adopted kids 'cause he didn’t want them to feel like he put himself above them. He wasn't good at showing emotions but he was as open as the assassin could afford to be to strangers.

But they all obviously expected something from him. And it reminded him of the League in an unpleasant way. It was easier with Fentons. Almost everyone in Amity Park was saying what they thought, and Damian didn’t have to waste time decoding potential conspiracies.

Damian missed movie marathon nights with Sam, Tucker, and Danny. And he hoped Dani had time to bother Vlad in his absence.

It was so weird here. When Danny and Valerie were fighting, they would gather at the dinner table anyway. When Damian wanted to have combat training with Drake here, he was forced to stay in his room. A very strange punishment. And undeserved one too.

Al Ghul felt quite calm and fine sitting at his easel and painting the people he left behind. An unusual subject for his paintings. But, Ancients, he missed Amity.

He missed Jack's bone breaking hugs, Maddie's Ecto-Contaminated food, arguments of Sam and Tucker, cozy art class with Mr. Baxter and even Vlad's done look. He missed Danny telling him about the stars. He also missed sword practice with Dan's boyfriend Fright Knight and he missed Dan's stories about his other youth. He missed literary evenings with Mr. Lancer, Clockwork and Ghost Writer. He even missed the hours-long Jazz lectures. He missed the dance of death and life. He missed being looked at without expecting anything from him. He missed the crowd. In the league, he was never at one with himself and in Amity he was always surrounded by people who were not afraid of his fate as the heir to the said League. This Manor was full of people, but for the first time in his life he felt lonely. Damian has to admit that he felt left behind. Of course, he understood that people needed time to build relationships, but he could have sworn that even he didn't need that much time to connect with Fentons. Maybe this is one of the tricks of the Clockwork? Then this one is not funny at all.

~~~~~Phone call~~~~ Damian: Mom, I want to go home. Maddie: I'm so sorry to hear that, sweetheart. What happened? Damian: Just…Nobody likes me. Why was I sent here? I'm not weak. And my brothers are quite capable of protecting me from Raas. I don't need Batman for this. Maddie: We'll figure it out, champ. Moms love you, remember? I'll talk to Talia, okay? Your brothers and sisters are already on edge and ready to steal you right during the patrol. Damian: It would be nice, but it would put a bat on their tails. So lock them in thermoses if they bother you too much. Maddie: But that won't stop Jazz. Damian: I missed the part where that's my problem. Maddie: Well, it will be your problem if she comes to your doorstep with your childhood photos and moralizing.

~~~~~~~~

It's his birthday. And he was always excited about it. But now, looking at the pile of gifts, he realizes that these people don't know him at all.

And this is the family of the best detective in the world? Maybe yes, but none of them bothered to really find info about him or ask him about his likes. Damian's a stranger here, and that's obvious.

The lunch container, which he will obviously give to the Boxing Lunch when he's in the right time interval, tennis rackets that Youngblood might like, The Graveyard Book…

Valerie had already read it to him and Dani before it was published. Thanks to Clockwork for his little miracles. The book reminded him of home.

Obviously this one is from Jason. And well, Damian doesn't think it was a pun on his life in Amity, more like Hood's inside joke about death but Dami will definitely leave this thing in the room at the Manor and maybe take it with him to the GZ or Amity Park.

~~~~~~~

When they gather at the festive table, Damian realizes that he has to make some kind of speech. He tries to be as brief as possible in his report.

Damian: Todd, your gift is appreciated. And I found a potential use for items that were given by others, Bruce.

Damian never called Batman his father. With Maddie and Talia, calling both moms wasn't weird, especially when Jazz explained to his biological mom that he wasn't trying to replace her. But with Wayne, it was different. Both women took care of him, they deserved this title. Wayne provided for his needs, but his core heart didn't feel like they were close. Surely there's nothing wrong if they're just Bruce and Damian? Obviously, they both don't enjoy each other's company.

Jason: So, do you like books, little demon? Damian: Sometimes reading is quite relaxing, I should point out. I'm not indifferent to Stephen King and Lovecraft. Jason: Personal recommendations? Damian: Cujo is one of my favorites. Jason: Not a common opinion, huh. Damian: It reminds me of my family. Damian tries to smile like Danny does, but Jason's twitching eye clearly indicates that he screwed it up.

~~~~Dick and Jason synchronously drop their forks as an excuse for a conference under the table.~~~~ Dick*whispers*: How's the situation? Jason*whispers back*: If the boy asks for a dog, don't be fooled. He will be happy to dance on our graves.

~~~~Cass knocks over their heads, urging them to return to their seats.~~~~

Damian: So how good you are at fading and sliding,Todd? Jason: Why did you ask? I can't, of course. Damian: Because you're dead. It seemed to me that this was a completely understandable interest. Jason: Wow, what a jerk. Damian: I wonder why your own incompetence makes me a jerk? Even my sister could do this when she wasn't dead for even a month.

Jason, for some reason, looks awkward, although he has never been embarrassed before by the idea that a girl could be stronger than him.

Jason: Your sister? How old was she when... So it's all about age. Damian rolls his eyes.

Damian: We're the same age. It seems like it was four or five years ago. To be honest, I don't remember. I wasn't around then. I'll ask Danielle the next time I go to the cemetery to visit her. Dick: I'm so sorry, Dami. Where is she buried? We can take you. Damian: There's no need. She has no grave, as there was nothing to bury. Bruce sighs loudly and covers his eyes with his hands. Damian: It's just easier to contact the afterlife in places like this, you now? Duke: We are very sorry, dude. Damian: Don't be. People come and go, and then come back if they haven't finished annoying you. There's no point in regretting the past. Her creation was not the most ethical thing but everything is going as it should. At least that's what Grandpa says. Considering that the old man is older than time, I prefer to believe him. No one plays with fate without his permission unless they want to get hit by the clock. Tim now looks like he's going to throw up and Damian hurries to move his plate closer to him. Jason: Yes, Bruce, this is definitely your son. Damian: Did I say something wrong? Dick smiles faintly at him but still doesn't find anything to say. Damian shrugs and goes back to eating asparagus. People outside of Amity are so weird.

Signal looks at Damian suspiciously as he carefully rearranges the plate of soy sausages away from himself. Did he take him for an idiot? Everyone knows that even vegetarian sausage bite and fight no worse than those with meat when they come back to life. It's not Damian's fault that he doesn't have an ectoblast with him and wants to have extra distance from the opponent.

~~~At the same time, in the walls of Wayne Manor~~~ Dani: The operation codenamed "Get Haunted Idiot" is declared open. Danny and Dan *salute*.

~~~Several Days Later~~~

Damian: So, this is Dan. Danny says we keep him as a GIW repeller. Dick: And Danny and Dan are.. Jazz: His brothers. I'm Jazz by the way. Elle and I are his sisters. Damian: I feat the criteria to participate in their name cult, so they took me. Dan, Danny, Dani and Dami. Dan *ruffles Damian's hair* : I prefer to call this biting threat Damn, to be honest. Dami: Shut up, DaNtE, they almost wrote Dark in your passport, you idiot. I can't believe I thought I missed you. Danny: Wow. Rude. Your grandpa would be disappointed. Great job, lil one.

~~~Several years later~~~

[irndad]

kiss me (under the milky twilight)- s.r.

a/n: this took so long and i'm so sorry! based on this post- reader has an ex that she keeps running back to, and spencer just wants her to see him. fake dating and hijinks ensue. VERY long. 4.6k words!! thanks to @fadingplaidtrashpatrol for ur thoughts and ideas!! masterlist // ask

The unraveling begins on a Friday. 

This is one of the rare Fridays where a full weekend is staring back at them, and Spencer is immeasurably pleased at his plans. He’s rented a Russian old movie, and his best friend had agreed to sit next to him on his shitty old couch while he whispers translations in real-time.

He loves spending time with her, a little hedonistically. She’s so kind, warm in both spirit and disposition, and Spencer treasures the time he gets to spend with her. Her desk adjoins his, and so one might assume that he could tire of her presence, but there’s something a little addicting about her, something he tries to have as often as he can. 

On this fine evening, she’s wearing an oversized sweater tucked into jeans- her position is mainly out of the field, and so she takes full advantage of the dress-code flexibility. Lovely earrings hang around her face, adorning her lovely features like a frame. 

Spencer’s more than a little in love with her. 

This has never really been a convenient fact, but Spencer’s used to wanting things he can’t have. And it was never really feasible not to want her- anyone who’s ever been in her presence would know this. It’s a foreign feeling, looking over at someone he’s lucky enough to know, and wanting them enough for that desire to turn into fantasy. 

“Spencer!” She greets him warmly, standing up to do so- if this wasn’t a workplace, if she was meeting him at the cafe like they do on Wednesdays, or his home, like she often finds herself in whenever he invites her, Spencer is certain she would wrap her arms around him in an incredibly warm hug. 

Because they are in the BAU, she believes it is inappropriate to embrace this way (which Spencer would argue isn’t true, given the way Morgan and Penelope are with each other, but if he told her that, it might be a little too obvious how desperate he is for her to touch him.)

The way she beams at him almost makes up for the fact that he doesn’t get to hug her. 

“I got you something,” he says in lieu of a response, clutching the bag of muffins in one hand. He’d woken up early to get her to stop by her favorite bakery, and it was worth it to see that look on her face. No one’s in the office now, the day long finished, and they’re getting ready to walk to his place. He lives so close by, and he’s grateful for this fact when they walk together back to his place. 

She grabs the bag, and he’s just so endeared by her, the giddy expression written over her lovely face.

“Have I mentioned that I love you? Because I do. You need to marry me, immediately.” She says to him, eyes closed in bliss, and even though she’s clearly joking, Spencer finds himself preening at her praise- wouldn’t it be incredible if she meant that? It sounds so pretty in her voice. I love you. 

He beams back at her, in a way he hopes doesn’t betray how much he wants. 

“I’m glad you like them,” he says back, his heart in his throat. 

“I have some news that you are going to be incredibly mad at me about.” She says, and a crumb is on her painted lip, and fantasy of kisses that he cannot have enters Spencer’s mind before he can shake it away.

“I could never be mad at you.”

“I think I have to raincheck tonight,” she says almost sadly, her voice apologetic, as though she has no choice in the matter.

“Is everything okay?”

He had picked up her favorite snacks yesterday night, tidied up his apartment top to bottom. 

“Josh texted me- he’s going through something and he needs me to come over-“

“He doesn’t need you to come over.” 

He rarely interrupts her, and he usually isn’t capable of being upset with her. He’s not really even upset with her now, but this is so exhausting, watching her deal with this asshole. 

It is a continuous surprise to Spencer that someone like her can be in a position like this.

Through Spencer’s eyes, the idea that anyone can not be in love with her is almost an impossibility. It’s not even his bias alone that makes him think this- it’s the truth of her. 

Josh is an asshole finance bro who works in the city center, and Spencer hates him more than most serial killers. 

He’s fucking careless with the thing Spencer wants the most in the world. Josh knows what it’s like to be with her, to be the person to falls asleep with her in his arms.  

Sometimes when Spencer can’t sleep, which is quite often, he pictures her soft cheek on her chest, pictures what she would feel like entwined with his own body, legs tangled with his and her fingers in his hair. It’s a sacred thing, this image- even though it isn’t real, Spencer knows he values the imagination of her presence more than Josh gives his attention to the real thing. 

They’ve “gotten together” and “broken up” and “started talking again” about 12 times respectively.

Spencer could kill him.

“Spence,” she sighs, shaking him out of his angry stupor, “please don’t be mad at me. He’s really going through something right now- he needs someone to be around. Besides,” she breathes out, “I can’t dump him. 

“Why is that?” He tries to temper his tone, but the memory of her mascara running down her cheeks as she sobs in his arms shoots through his mind, and manifests as a physical sharp pain in his chest. 

“That wedding is coming up,” she murmurs, looking down at her shoes. They’re scuffed, and Spencer thinks she might be embarrassed. Why should she be? He’s the asshole. “I told people I was going to have a date. Do you know how many people are going to be there, Spence? How many people are expecting me to bring my boyfriend?”

Her best friend is getting married. Spencer knows this because she’s told him, and told him gleefully when Josh had agreed to go with her. Spencer remembers thinking that he’d like to punch a wall.

Anyway. 

She’s the last of her friend group that’s not in a long term relationship, and in some twisted way, he kind of gets how Josh would be better than nothing, if you didn’t want to be seen as alone. 

“You don’t want to go alone.”

“Yeah, Spence.”

“I could go with you.”

It escapes his mouth without his permission, and he regrets it almost instantly. Because there’s no fucking way she’d go with him. He’s lanky and awkward and his blazers never fit and his ties are always tied wrong, and she’s beautiful and wonderful in ways he finds new ways to see everyday. He’s not a solution to her being worried about how she’s seen, he’d only make it worse-

“You would do that for me?” Her voice is small as she asks, and it shakes him out of his thoughts. He looks down at her, eyes softening at her lovely face. She looks touched, and he has to wonder, doesn’t she know?

He’d do anything for her. 

“Of course,” he breathes out, a nervous hand playing with the strap of his bag, “If it gets you to stop giving that asshole the time of day, I’d do it a million times.”

Her face shifts in a way he can’t read, and she swallows. 

“I can’t let you do that.”

“I want to,” he says, “Please. It would be fun, C’mon. You’re always saying I need to get out there and do things.”

“Being my fake boyfriend at my friend’s wedding is not getting out there and doing things,” she pouts, and his heart nearly jumps. It’s pathetic, but hearing her refer to him as her any kind of boyfriend is intoxicating. He wants to hear it, over and over. 

“It’ll be fun,” he says, touching her hand as it rests on the table, making intentional eye contact. She has been prettiest eyes. “C’mon, let me do this for you. I’m sick of this guy.”

She gulps again, an endearingly confusing gesture, and he finds the feeling a little desperate. Pick me, choose to be with me, even if it’s just pretend. 

“He’s going to be there anyway,” she breathes out biting her lip in a nervous gesture, “I- I’d owe you so much, Spence. It would make him jealous, I think.”

It’s a little hedonistic, how much he would enjoy that, he thinks. Someone would see her as his girl. He knows she might be doing this to get Josh’s attention, but still- the evening together seems like too lovely of a thing to turn down- too wonderful of a chance to not offer. He’d take a night of pretend over never getting to be with her at all. 

It’s enough to make him ignore that making Josh jealous is probably the reason she’s saying yes. 

“Okay, okay! Spencer, will you do me the honor of taking me to Julie’s wedding?”

“I would be honored. 

The weeks approaching the wedding are a bit of sweet torture. She’d had the idea that they could practice, whatever that meant, and the memory of it lives in his mind rent free. They’d been watching the movie, already touchier than most would allow of best friends. (She’s his best, Spencer’s just the tiniest bit resentful of Julie). 

She’d been sitting next to him on his worn out couch, her legs thrown across his, and true to his word, he was whispering the translation along to the movie. She smiled at him, watching his mouth move instead of the movie, and he felt tingly under her stare. How wonderful and bright it is, to be under her gaze. He kept speaking even though she wasn’t watching, because he imagines that if he stops, she might look away. 

Then, she had held his hand. 

Grabbed it really, fingers lacing with his own, and Spencer’s brain had short circuited. She has soft hands, he had thought to himself, and it was about the only thing he could manage to think. 

“We should practice,” she had whispered, even though it was just the two of them in the lowlight of his home, “Y’know, so people believe us.”

He didn’t say that he’s pretty sure no one needed to be convinced he’s in love with her. 

“Sure,” he had nodded, and squeezed her hand, “I think that’s a great idea.”

So they’ve been practicing. 

This has been in equal measures wonderful and torturous. She walks with him to work on half the days, with her fingers twined with his own, and Spencer finds it intoxicating that any passerby would assume he belongs to her. 

More than he already does, anyway. 

Her affection is her own, just turned up to 11. She’s gorgeous- this is a fact that was not instrumental in his love of her, but ornamental- still, this is hard to ignore when she touches him as much as she does now. When she’s out with the team at the bar, she rests her hand on the small of his back- he preens every time at this. This is simple, her domesticity, her claiming his presence as her own- it’s more than nice, Spencer realizes. It’s wonderful, to be wanted by her. Even if it’s not real.

On this night, they’re celebrating. They caught the unsub before he’d been able to kill his first victim. This is a rarity in their field, and she’d given the interview that had gotten the confession. It’s the closest to field work she’d gotten, and they’re all celebrating their win. Her win. 

She looks like a figment of imagination, lovely in a way he literally cannot believe he didn’t conjure up in fantasy. Her favorite song is playing out of pure serendipity, and Spencer likes that word for her. She is serendipitous as a whole. 

“Do you want something to drink, honey?” The endearment feels warm and natural as it comes out of his mouth. His hand is resting on the small of her waist, and he knows he’s being egregious with the practice thing. But this is so nice, her leaning into him, one drink deep and touchier than she is tipsy, and he loves this. He loves that under this pretense, he gets to know what she feels like in his arms. 

He hands her the water before she gets to answer, and she happily sips it. 

“Are you proud of me, Spence?” Her voice is immeasurably fond and he drinks it in like a man starved. 

“Of course,” he smiles at her. I’m always proud of you, he thinks. “You did so well, love.”

He’s not used to endearments, but she showers him in them. Before their little pretending, too. Called him dove, honey, darling. Packed an emergency lunch in his go bag in case he forgot his. She’s such a good friend, and he wants to be her lover more with each breath. 

He tries to return them, now. 

“Good,” she says serenely, looking at him in a way that kills him, because he will never, ever kiss her. She can hold him, and look at him like that, and he will never get to be with her, “I think my cider is too sour,” she scrunches her nose, and his heart swoops. 

“I’ll get you something sweeter, baby.”

“Yeah you will!” He hears Morgan laugh, and he flushes bright red. No one seems surprised, by how touchy they’d been. Even Hotch- he’d expected a talk, but then got a stern nod of understanding in its stead. 

She sips the sweet drink he got her, a little cherry on the step, and he thinks he’d do anything to keep looking at her. 

Five weeks to the wedding. 

He can do this. 

“Could you do me a favor, Garcia? I come bearing gifts.” 

Spencer’s snuck into her office- there’s not much to do today, but she hadn’t wanted to take PTO for no reason, so here she is, in her feathered and pink glory. 

“Is that a hot chocolate? From Dominicks? Ooh, you play dirty, Dr. Reid.” Penelope almost squeals, and despite his nefarious purposes, he finds himself joyful- it’s alwaysgood to talk to her. 

After a joyful, eyes closed and serene sip, she asks, “Alright, my sweet furry friend, what can I do for you?”

“Could you check on a Josh Collins for me?”

“Isn’t that your girl’s ex?”

“No,” Heat rises to his cheeks, before he can help it. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh, and my favorite color is black.” Penelope scoffs back, but begins typing furiously anyway. 

He needs to know what is so fascinating about this guy. Because lately he can’t figure it out. He’s always fucking hated the guy, even though he’s never met him. He never had to- she’d shown up enough times at Spencer’s door crying, been broken up with and brought back enough to know that this guy is awful. Doesn’t even come close to deserving the woman that she is. 

“He’s a financial analyst at a Marketing firm, went to state school for his Bachelor’s, says here that he played football in college, but I don’t think they met until after,” she says, “Oh, he has a scuba license. And skydiving! Looks like he’s a bit of an adrenaline junkie.”

It’s an evil thought. Is that what she likes? He finds it hard to imagine, picturing the moments where she’s wrapped up in his arms on a movie night- that always seemed to be her preference. In, not out. 

“Is that him?”

There’s a picture of him on Penelope’s screen. Josh is chiseled and strong, smiling brightly in a polo on a jet ski- this is a photo posted on his social media, and Spencer has met a million of this guy. They bullied him in school. Spencer as genius and he’s a lot of things, but that will never be one of them. It’ll never, ever be him. 

Good to know, anyway. Better not to fantasize about what he knows he can’t have. 

On the day of the wedding, it’s actually a 6 hour drive. She’d offered to get them plane tickets, but he enjoyed his time with her. He was also desperate to extend the time until the wedding was over, and she’s probably the only person he wants to be trapped in a car with. 

They’re sharing a hotel room. She’s booked two beds, which he’s honestly grateful for- if they’d shared a bed, he might’ve combusted. 

Still, there is so much intimacy. She sings in the shower. He imagines a world where he’d know that in domesticity, where after a night spent in laughter and something like love, she showered in his home. But that’s not how he knows it. He knows it because he’s at her best friend’s wedding, pretending to be her boyfriend. 

When she comes out of her bedroom, she’s gorgeous. 

She’s got a green and purple dress on, a cinched waist and a sweetheart neck, a dash of plum lipstick on her lovely pout, and he’d like to kiss that smile very, very much. She’s a delicate kind of lovely, saturated in sweetness, and it’s sweet torture to have her this close.

“You look...” He struggles to find words, an uncommon occurrence in his life, “Like a vision.”

It’s sentimental and warmer than he wished he sounded, but god- she’s stunning. She looks like she’s made of old film, beautiful in that way that’s just a bit too good to be true. He adores her more with each breath.

“You think it’s okay?” She speaks to him with her doe eyes adorned with a concerned expression. He wants to kiss it away.

“You look lovely,” he says, a vast underselling.

The ceremony is a lovely affair, and Spencer learns that she cries at weddings. The bride and groom have lovely, saccharine vows, and Spencer tries not to picture a wedding that he will never get to have. 

It’s a little bit impossible with her at his side. 

She’s touchier now, even mores then when they were ‘practicing’. Her hands are warm laced with his own, her head leaning on his shoulder, and he feels lucky to have even a piece of getting to be with her. 

At the reception, she is tackled by her friends, and he performs dutifully as the caring boyfriend. It’s not hard.

It’s a lovely night. His arms glued to the small of her waist, and he’s been introduced as her “genius FBI agent boyfriend” many times tonight. He turns bright red every time. 

“This is my boyfriend, he’s the smartest ever,” she brags when she’s half a drink deep, and he cherishes the ability to draw circles on the small of her back in this moment- his words fail him in moments of praise, and touch is an avenue that he is rarely allowed to use.

“I don’t believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified-“

“Which is a thing that humble geniuses say.” 

So he’s having a great tine. 

Her lipstick is transfer-free, and his cheek is proof. She’s so affectionate his heart keeps doing somersaults. There’s a signature cocktail with some pun in the couples name.

“I’m fucking obsessed with these, Spence,” she says, a light airiness to her voice that he recognizes as her tipsy voice, “Can you get me another, my love?”

“Yes, honey.” He smiles at her, and kisses the crown of her hair before leaving her in the company of her friends. He’s indulging a bit too much, he’s aware. He’s going to have to give up this up when the sun rises, like some fucked up fairytale where Cinderella never gets the guy because she’s not worthy of it without the pretense.

“Could I get the house cocktail?” Spencer asks the bartender, flashing a smile at her with the giddiness of knowing he will return to her.

Spencer had nearly forgotten that part of the reason he was here was because of Josh. 

Who is at the bar.

“Hey man- you’re the dude she brought, right?” 

Josh is actually about 2 inches shorter than Spencer, and Spencer makes the most of this difference. He’s a broad chested muscle man, but he looks woefully underwhelming. 

“Yeah, I’m the lucky guy.” Spencer replies in a deadpan tone, turning to face him with a stony expression. 

“Careful, man,” Josh says, and it’s a little pathetic how he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t care, “She’ll chew you up and spit you out.”

“Really? Because it seems like you’d leave a bad taste in anyone’s mouth.”

“Whatever, dude. It’s clear that she just brought someone to make me jealous.”

“Actually, while I can’t read her mind, I imagine you’ve slipped hers entirely. Clearly your entire energy is based in whatever ego-driven shell your youth has shaped you into- and maybe one day someone will care enough about whatever tragedy made you the way you are, but I am deeply uninterested, and I’d wager she is too.”

He’s not sure if this is true, but Spencer’s noticed that in the time since their ruse has begun she hasn’t mentioned Josh. Not once. She might not love Spencer,  but she might not see Josh anymore. 

“Also, if you ever speak disrespectfully of my girlfriend again I promise you it will not end well for you.”

His voice is even and has an underlaying of quiet rage. It’s wonderful to call her that, even more so as she enters into his eye line.

“You looked mad,” she says in lieu of a greeting, her nimble arms wrapping around his waist with fluid ease, “Is everything okay?” 

It’s only then she sees Josh, and there’s something wonderful about knowing that she came here to check on him. Josh is about to say something, he can tell even though he’s only visible in the corner of his vision. 

It’s a calculated risk but he chooses to do it anyway. 

When he kisses her, he doesn’t know what to expect. It falls into line like puzzles into place, one of her hands falling to his waist and the other cradling his jaw with a delicate softness. She leans into him totally and this is an intoxicating feeling- her lips are so, so soft and it’s what he’s been fantasizing about since she first smiled at him and asked him to keep going when he was rambling about Russian literature. 

It’s actually better. 

When she pulls back, she scans the space. Josh is gone.

“Well that had the intended effect,” he says- it seems better than anything else, like confessing that the only reason he did it was that he could. He kissed her. 

She nods, clearly a bit frazzled, and fuck-

“I should have asked, fuck, I’m sorry-“

“No, no, you’re okay, um-thanks for getting rid of him.”

Her voice is hollow. 

Despite the awkwardness of the kiss, which Spencer cannot stop thinking about.

Did he imagine it, or did she lean in? Did she sigh into it? How is he going to ever get over the fact that he’s never going to do that again?

Her lipstick is grape flavored. Now they both know that. 

They get back to the hotel at half past midnight, and she’d been a little distanced- not so much they still didn’t look like a couple, but enough that Spencer knows. They’re winding down the artificial love affair, and all of the things he’s become kind of addicted to are going to go away. Her fingers running through the tendrils of his hair, her delicate fingers rubbing tiger balm on his temples when he’s got his migraines. Her cheek kisses, the honeys, my loves, sweethearts. 

Kissing her. 

When she drops her bag on the hotel bed and sits on the edge of it, he sits next to her. She’s been quieter, since the kiss. 

“Hey.”

“Hey back,” she replies, bumping her knee with his in fondness. 

“I’m sorry I surprised you with, you know.”

“Kissing me?”

“I should have asked- I’m sorry.”

“I’m not upset that you kissed me,” she says, looking down at her shoes, “I’m upset that you only did it because you wanted to spite Josh.”

“What?”

“I know that this is my problem, Spence,” she says, “You never… led me on, you know? I know that this was always my thing to deal with. Being in love with you was never something that I thought would be a problem. But when you offered to go with me- to pretend to be my boyfriend, how could I pass that up?”

This makes no sense.

“I know,” she runs her fingers through her hair in a frustrated motion, “I know that it was never a good idea. But the idea of getting to be with you was just too much to turn down, even it it wasn’t the real thing. And now we’re going back to normal and I promise that I will go back to being your friend. It might take me a second, though-I might need some space.”

She needs space from him? Because she can’t transition away from being his fake girlfriend?

“You don’t need space from me.”

He’s so fucking bad at talking. 

“Spencer-“

“No, no,” because now he has a shot- now  there’s a reality where the pit in his chest doesn’t have to live there forever. He can be with her. Because for some crazy, insane reason, she wants him. “You don’t need space from because I don’t want space from you, okay?”

He sits next to her on the bed, eyes a little crazed with want with nowhere to go. 

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Her voice is tempered, and he thinks he hears hope. 

“I love you. I am in love with you. I’ve been in love with you as long as I’ve known you,” he grabs her hand-it feels desperate to say and he sure he sounds it, “I didn’t kiss you because I wanted to spite him. I did it because I couldn’t live with the idea that I would spend the rest of my life never have kissed you.”

He probably would say more- so many things are coming to mind, most of which are pleading. She’s the only thing he’s ever wanted this much. Before he gets to, though, she kisses him. 

It’s sudden, as all things of this nature are, but he pulls her close on instinct. She ends up on his lap, her hands around his neck, and it is so rare that fantasy lives up to reality. But this is better, the feeling of the weight of her pressed against him and the taste of her grape lipstick. 

It’s a minute when she pulls back, and it takes everything to not chase the contact.

“I love you too,” she says, the sweetness of it dripping from the sound of it. He wants to hear it again, and again, and again.

“For real?”

“For real.” 

When the run rises in the morning that follows, he’s wrapped around the length of her like a vice, right and close to him, Her head rests on his chest, and while there is another bed there, it’s clearly not seeing any use.

He’s never slept better in his life. 

[lizthewriter]

i think there's been a glitch / theodore nott

PAIRING  Theodore Nott x studious!shy!Reader

SUMMARY  Theodore Nott was well known for the sort of happenstances that occurred in his dorm. However, the new transfer student seems to catch his eye in particular - that transfer student is you. His friends think that, at first, he has his eyes set on you for more sinful reasons, but he soon proves that his intentions are more romantic than anyone ever thought.

TAGS  Theodore Nott x Reader, angst, if you squint, idiots in love, cursing, kissing, study buddies, friends to wtf is this to friends with benefits but also wtf is this to lovers, theo is a simp, reader is not slytherin, can be any other house, reader has social anxiety, references to sex, underage drinking, headmaster's list = dean's list, gender neutral reader

"We were supposed be just friends, / you don't live in my part of town, but maybe I'll see you out some weekend, / depending on what type of mood and situationship I'm in, / and what's in my system," - Glitch by Taylor Swift

WORD COUNT  3.2K

WRITTEN  27.08.2023

A/N This came as a burst of inspiration during calc class when I realized I was really the only person answering my professor's questions in my classes, lmaoo 😭😭 so this is purely self-induglent. i hope you guys enjoy <333

When you had transferred to Hogwarts, you hadn't made very many friends. All right, you hadn't made any friends. Because you had transferred to Hogwarts so late in your academic career, everyone had already formed their own friend groups. No one had any real interest in you - that was, they were interested in why you transferred, but not in assimilating you into their social circles. Your professors, however, had grown quite fond of you, most likely due to your dedication to your studies. And eventually, around midway through the fall semester, you were called into the Headmaster's office. It had kept you on your toes all day - had you done something wrong? Gotten in trouble? Your mind had come up with most elaborate and unlikely scenarios that might have cause you to get called into the Headmaster's office.

You were awarded the honor of being added to the Headmaster's list. Only two others in your year were granted the same honor - Hermione Granger and Theodore Nott. All three of you were maintaining straight O's. You and Hermione had never gotten the opportunity to grow close - it might have been the fact that she was much more close-mindrd than you, or the fact that she didn't have the time to spare to make new friends between her studies and all the "Chosen One" stuff going on. You wanted to at least make one friend, instead of an academic rival, which you made the mistake of creating at your previous school.

So, you approached Theo after the meeting, your hands clamy and shaking while you stuttered out your request to study together. Theo simply watched you with those dead eyes of his before nodding. It had unnerved you but you pushed yourself to confirm a date and time with him. And so began your little friendship.

You were never meant to be more than study partners. Weekly study sessions in the library grew into bi-weekly gatherings, which then grew into daily meetings. And then you were meeting each other after class, making inside jokes, hanging out just because. Slowly, but surely, you and Theo grew close. You weren't sure you had ever been this close with anyone before. It was like he just knew you, not only like the back of his hand, but like every square inch of his body.

And Theo? Theo had never saw you coming. He didn't know that he wanted to be friends with you until you were friends, and then he couldn't stop coming back. You were like a drug. He needed another hit each and every time he saw you. Soon enough, he was aching to spend every waking moment with you. It had started as nothing more than a mutually beneficial partnership, but it grew to be much more than that.

It took him a while to realize he loved you. Cared for you. He was well reputed for sleeping around and having a general devil-may-care attitude. He knew that he loved you when he began to grow tired of the constant flings and one-night stands. When he called off the on-and-off relationship he'd had with a particularly vivacious Slytherin girl. He hated the way girls threw themselves at him, vying for his attention like wildcats fighting over a piece of meat. You weren't like that. You were perfect.

He knew he wanted to ask you out. His friends scoffed at the idea, thinking he was joking. They were shocked when they realized he was serious. Mattheo had even knocked on his head, asking if Theo was really in there. It had to be perfect, so he went to the only people he knew who had ever been in serious relationships. Mostly everyone had told him the same thing - find out what you liked. Woo you. It was rather simple. "For someone who is so smart, you're rather stupid, you know," Blaise had told him. He secretly agreed.

First, he had bought a collection of muggle novels for you at a book store on a forgotten. It had beautifully decorated covers, guilded with golden etchings. When you had sat down to study one day, Theodore had dropped it on the table in front of you while he pulled out his books.

"What's this?" You had asked in confusion.

"It reminded me of you," he said simply, pulling out his spellbook and flipping through it to find where he had last left off.

You furrowed your brows as you pulled the box towards you, unclasping the front of it and pushing it open. You let out the small gasp at the gorgeous hardcovers resting inside, hands trailing along the sturdy spines. Five Muggle Classics, the interior of the box cover said. "Theo . . . " Your voice trailed off at the thoughtfullness of the gift - you were left utterly speechless. "I can't take this. I can't imagine how expensive how this was." You slid the case of books back to Theo. He stopped it, pushing it back towards you.

"Take it. I can't return it. Besides, I got it for you. I would hate to see these go to waste."

You bit your bottom lip before pulling the box back towards you, a smile spreading across your face as you pulled out one of your favorite muggle classics. You flipped through the pages, allowing that paticular new-book smell to wash over you like the waves on a shore. "Thank you," you mumbled softly.

-

You never came to parties. Mostly because you hated all the drinking and crowds and the mixture of stroking lights and booming music that made you dizzy. But you had started to develop feelings for a particular friend of yours. He was tall, devilishly handsome, and more intelligent that anyone you'd ever met. He smelled of evergreen trees, cigarettes, and lilac. You felt for him in a way that you had never felt for anyone else. You were always so laser-focused on you studies, but you realized that your attention had been straying towards a paticular someone as of recently.

You knew he hung around these sort of parties, finding pretty girls to have a fun night with. You wore the most insanely inappropriate dress you could find, hoping to catch his attention. You weren't exactly sure what your goal for that night was, but you were certain you wanted it to end with you and Theo, alone.

Of course, Theo was shocked to see you there. Even more shocked to see you out of the jeans and sweaters you usually wore, standing in a tight little number that had him practically frothing at the mouth. Not that you weren't always stunning, but you were stunning stunning. He wouldn't have approached you normally, but with the alcohol currently coursing through his system, he had a boost of courage and stupidity.

Five seconds later, he was standing right behind you, calling your name. You turned around to face him with a grin. "Hey, there you are."

"What are you doing here?" It sounded much more like a statement than a question - he was seemingly distracted by something else about you.

"I came to see you, silly. And to see what all the rage is about."

"And?"

"I've come to the conclusion that parties suck."

Theo laughed, something hearty that rumbled through his chest. "Want to go somewhere else?"

"Please," you responded with a role of your eyes. "I'm starting to get a headache." You had stupidly accepted a drink and chugged down the bitter alcohol earlier - that didn't bode well for your head when you were already bothered by loud music sober.

Theo's eyes searched the room for somehwere that might be a little quieter - his eyes landed on the staircase to his dorm. Well, where else was there to go? He lead you up the steps, the two of you laughing as he kept you from stumbling down the stairs, and guided you to his dorm. He sat you down on the bed, grabbing a glass on his bedside table, and filled it up with the spell Aguamenti.

"Thanks," you said sweetly, taking it from his hand and taking a long sip. You took a good look at the room, easily able to tell whose area of the roo. was whose. Mattheo's was messy - clothes strewn across the bed and floor. Draco's was neat and filled with a variety of potions book, his bedside table cluttered with potions of a variety of colors, lined up in orderly rows. Blaise had a poster of his favorite Quidditch team plastered on the wall, as well as a family photo filled with all his siblings. Theo's, however, was minimal and tidy aside from the piles of books. His bed was neatly made, the corners of the covers tucked under the mattress.

You finally met Theo's eyes and finally saw some sort of emotion - it took you a moment to identify it as hunger. You glanced down at the outfit you were wearing and flushed, your eyes staying firmly on the ground.

"You look very pretty."

You felt your heart stop in your chest. Had Theo called you . . . pretty? You were in shock - sure, you had come to the party with more than friendly intent, but you had never expected that he would actually notice you the way he had noticed other girls.

"Y-you - you look very handsome."

Theo watched you for a moment - he was standing only a foot away with arm wrapped around the four-poster, hanging off from it slightly. There was an odd sort of tension in the room - you both knew what you wanted and you both knew you wanted it now. Both of your inhibitions were lowered because of the alcohol, so it was that one split desicion that changed everything. Soon enough, his lips were planted into yours, one hand cupping your cheek and the other trailing along the side of your body. Everything had happened so fast - it went from the hand on your hips guiding you down onto the mattress to clothes strewn on the floor to sleeping heavily within each other's arms. It was hours before you woke again, and you were grateful that none of his friends had come up from the party yet. He helped you get dressed, a look of almost disbelief settled into his features as you left, sending him an awkward smile before you closed the door. What had he done?

-

The next day you had studied together like nothing happened. You cracked a joke. He laughed. You helped him with Transfiguration, he helped you with Ancient Runes. Another day passed. And another. And another. Theo was going beyond mad - what were you two now? Were you still friends? Were you dating? He felt like he wanted to yank all his hair out of his head.

That was, until about a week later. Late at night, the two of you were studying in the library. He was huddled next to you, embarrassingly distracted by your beauty while you were trying to help him with a homework problem he got stuck on. He finally snapped back to attention as you pointed to something on his parchment, leaning downwards to see exactly what you were pointing at. At the same time, you had turned your head to see what had him so distracted. The resultant situation: your noses bumped together and he could feel your heavy, hot breath on his lips.

Flashbacks to the night you shared soared through both of your minds. And it was you, this time, who had made the stupid desicion. You lunged for his lips with desperation, fingers snaking through his hair, a hand planted on his chest. He had tensed in surprise before returning the kiss with equal fervor. It wasn't long before you were quickly packing your things and Theo was dragging you to some abandoned room, your lips entangled as he pressed you up against the wall. The moonlight seeped in through the red glass-stained windows, dancing deliciously on your skin. Forever engraved in his memory was the picture of you, the only word on your lips being his name, grasping his shoulders with need.

-

Neither of you knew what kind of relationship you had descended into. It involved rather intimate gatherings from time to time, but for the most part, you were just friends. It was an almost seamless friendship between you two - except for the nagging thoughts at the back of both of your minds that kept you wondering if the other really felt the same way.

Theo buried his face into his hands, surrounded by a group of friends who had utterly no idea what to do. Their eyes watched him with trepidation and worry. It was oddly concerning how much he was stressing over this. Theo never seemed to stress about anything. But here he was, hands fisted in his hair, staring down at the ground in utter disillusionment.

"I've ruined everything. All cause I couldn't keep it in my fucking pants."

"That can't be it, mate," Mattheo tried reassuring him. "Look, you said they're different, yeah? All the other girls you've slept with found someone else after you. But they keep coming back for more. That has to mean something, right?"

"Yeah, you've just got to romance them," Blaise said. Theo groaned.

"Please never open your mouth again."

"I'm serious. Take her to Hogsmeade, that'll show them."

Theo leaned his face upwards, staring at Blaise. He was right - taking someone to Hogsmeade virtually meant asking them out on a date. You had to know the innuendo by now, being at Hogwarts as long as you have. "Blaise, you're brilliant." He clapped his friend on the back, rushing out of the dorm to find you.

-

You scanned the bookshelves for books with more information on Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. The idea fascinated you - how come you could conjure any sort of non-edible object from nothing, but with food you couldn't? At the root of it, everything was made of subatomic particles, then atoms, then particles, and so on. So, theoretically, anything could be created from nothing, correct?

You were so enraptured by your own thoughts that you had no conception of your surroundings and bumped right into someone walking straight towards you. The books in your arms tumbled onto the floor and you flushed a bright red, bending down to pick them up.

"Gosh, I'm so sorry!" you exclaimed, hastily collecting the books from the ground. The boy, who you hadn't really looked at yet, bent down to help you collect them as well. "I wasn't looking where I was going, I'm really -"

As you stood up, you finally got to look at his face - and it turned out to be Theo. His face was just barely flushed, and the emotion in his eyes held a deep meaning that you couldn't quite decrypt. You didn't have a chance to ask him what he was doing, because he beat you to it.

"Go to Hogsmeade with me."

"I'm sorry?"

"Hogsmeade. You and I. Interested?" His tone was strained, and you realized what emotion finally lay beyond those dead eyes. Fear.

You knew what he was insinuating. Was he - asking you out on a date? Did that mean he really did like you? More than just as someone he could have a little fun with time and again, someone who was just a friend. You stared up at him for quite a while, not realising how silent you were as you sunk into the rabbit hole of your own thoughts.

"I - erm - all right, then." You were still quite in a bit of shock. "Will you -"

"Yeah, I'll wait for you outside your common room." The fear in his eyes seemed to dissipate, his shoulders sagging in relief.

"Right. Yeah, sounds good. Great."

-

You had bundled up for the cold weather, a thick scarf wrapped around your neck and a hat with your house emblem on your head. You tried to dress in something nice underneath the layers of warmth - it had taken you a long time to decide what exactly you wanted to wear, but you had eventually come to a conclusion.

When you exited the dormitory, you found Theo bundled up with an equal amount of layers, yet he looked just as attractive as he always did. In his hands, he held a single rose. You flushed a bright red, especially as a group of first year girls giggled as they exited the dorm behind you.

"Hello," Theo said simply, handing you the rose.

"Hello," you responded shyly, taking it gratefully and holding it in your hands. You smiled nervously, rocking back and forth on your feet. "So."

"So. Are you ready?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." Theo grabbed your hand, holding it gently. You hid your face from his view, not wanting him to know the kind of affect he had on you as he lead you through the castle. "What do you want to do first?"

You had weaved your hand through his arm, resting your head on the edge of his shoulder. "Hm. I need some more quills. But we should definitely stop at the bookshop first. I want to see if they've gotten anything new."

"Okay."

Theo had never been a talkative person - and you had never really minded it, not until now. You wish that maybe he might just tell you he had feelings for you, more than feelings that only arose every once in a while. It would make this so much easier on you. But you were nervous and shy and had a hard time talking to people, even one's you've been friends with. So you remained silent on the walk there.

Theo could tell it was an uncomfortable silence. Not only did being the quiet one meant he could read a room easily, he had also been around you long enough to know when you felt uncomfortable. He stopped the two of you from walking - you were already walking the path to Hogsmeade, snow lightly covered both of your heads.

"What's wrong?"

"N-nothing."

"You don't have to lie to me."

You bit the interior of your cheek nervously. Did you really want to destroy what you had with him? You were content with keeping your relationship the way it was. At least, that's what you convinced yourself.

You felt your gaze being drawn back to Theo, his fingers resting under your chin. "Don't hide from me, love, tell me what's on your mind."

"Love." You felt your heart melt into a puddle of hope and embarrassment. "Theo . . . what are we?"

Theo grabbed your hand and held it up, intertwining your fingers together. He looked at them, with something akin to fascination, and muttered, "What do you want us to be?"

You paused. "I want us to be together," you whispered, looking up at him with eyes of despair. Theo felt his heart wrench at the sight of it. He raised his other hand, brushing it lightly against your cheek.

"Then let's be together," he whispered back. He leaned downwards, meeting your lips in a soft kiss. It wasn't like any of the kisses before that - no, those were passionate, desperate, lust-filled kisses. This was loving, caring, blossoming. He dropped your hand to cup both of your cheeks in his hand, his nose biting into your cheek. "You and I. I like the sound of that."

tags: @plants-are-pretty-cool @annaisabookworm @maricardigan

Thank you all for reading! Be sure to like, reblog, and comment! I really appreciate it ^^. If you have any requests, by inbox is open but make sure to check the list of characters I write for here. If you want to be tagged in any upcoming fics/headcanons of mine, let me know. If you want to see more from me, go ahead and check out my masterlist here!

[bellaxgiornata]

SAHD!Frank Castle Headcanons

I picture Frank being an amazing, hands-on father if he ever managed to fall back into that role again and I just think he'd make such a wonderful stay-at-home-dad. I couldn't resist sharing some of my SAHD!Frank headcanons so they're below the cut! And I'm also just going to make him a girl dad here because he absolutely is in my mind.

I could also certainly be persuaded to share some girl dad!Frank Castle headcanons...

With the ridiculous cost of daycare, you and Frank would eventually come to the conclusion that it was just more cost effective to have one of you stay home with the girls. And while you might be tempted to do it yourself, you'd also know how much Frank would cherish being present for every moment with his kids. He'd never want to miss a single thing after the tragic loss he'd experienced, and you'd have already seen his steadfast devotion during your pregnancy. While he would argue that you should be the one to stay home with them, eventually you would win out.

On weekdays, Frank would be awake early every morning--possibly even before your alarm went off. He'd always have a mug of hot coffee or tea made for you whenever you finally stepped foot into the kitchen. And when you did, you'd find him preparing breakfast for the girls. He'd always make you up a plate of whatever he cooked, insisting you eat something before you were out the door for work ("You gotta eat, baby. Just a few bites, c'mon."). And Wednesdays would forever be known as pancake day in your house.

Frank would never run out of activities to do with the kids, even if you found some of them to be very 'Frank.' He'd have them help him build things (a new bookshelf, a baby crib, a birdhouse, etc), and he'd teach them what tools to use while he's at it. He'd have them assist him with changing the oil in the car, fixing a leaky sink, or preparing vegetables in the kitchen for dinner (with child-safe knives that he always complained to you later about how "they can't cut for shit."). When playfully teased about the things he teaches them, he'd tell you he wanted your girls to learn "the real shit they won't get from school."

Every Friday is Library Day in the Castle house. Frank would take the girls to the library in the morning for story time where he would sit back and watch with a big grin on his face as his girls sat "criss-cross applesauce" among all the other kids and listened to the books with rapt attention. Aftwerwards, he'd let them pick out new books for bedtime for the upcoming week. Then he would always make the morning extra special by taking the girls out for brunch.

He loves nothing more than to free up more time for all of you to spend together as a family on the weekend, so he would be the dad running errands during the weekdays with a toddler holding each of his hands (or a baby strapped to his chest in a carrier). He'd be out grabbing groceries, hitting up the hardware/home improvement store so he could work on projects around the house, or he'd be taking the kids to their doctor/dentist appointments so you wouldn't have to think about it later.

Frank would be the cool dad at all the parks, the one not afraid to play with his kids and push them on the swings. He'd be making small talk with the other moms and setting up play dates for his girls. He'd also be the one all the other kids flocked to on the playground whenever he was there because he was known to easily be persuaded into playing hide and seek or tag.

A few times throughout the month, Frank would stop by your work just before your lunch break to drop off food with the girls as an excuse to see you ("Had to come see my favorite girl. Wanted to make sure you're not workin' too hard."). You always loved it even more on the random occasions that your lunch came with a bouquet of flowers--either store bought or freshly picked on a walk by him and your girls.

If Frank knew you had a big presentation coming up or that you were just having a rough week/day, you could always count on coming home to something he made with the girls--pictures they colored or crafts they made--to cheer you up ("S'posed to be a butterfly ring or something. Shit, I don't know. Girls wanted to do somethin' with pipe cleaners. Blame YouTube.")

At the end of a long work day, you'd come home to see that dinner was almost finished cooking most nights. You'd either find Frank out back with a beer in one hand grilling while the girls were playing in the yard, or he would be in the kitchen surrounded by high-pitched laughter.

And when you came home from a long day of work, you could always count on Frank greeting you with the biggest smile. He'd wrap you up in his big arms and give you the sweetest kiss, even if he had to pause cooking dinner ("Missed you today, sweetheart. Hope you're hungry."). It would be the thing you looked forward to most at the end of every day, especially on particularly difficult days.

[schmidtsgirl]

You are in love -S.R

— Spencer Reid x fem!reader

— summary: in which your love for one another comes to light

— warnings: angst, light heartbreak, some cringe fluff. Writing fluff isn’t my usual writing style but i was in a mood. Proofread but maybe some errors

“ARE YOU IN LOVE?”

The question itself had caught you off guard, your hand you were using to write coming to a halt as you looked over at the man across the table. The music in the background suddenly seem to fade away in your head.

“Yet.. i mean” Spencer finished off his sentence. Shifting a little uncomfortable in his seat as your gaze lingered on him for a while.

You cleared your throat. “No, I don’t think so” you saw the way his eyes emptied out like he was expecting a better response from you, but truthfully was now the right time to just burst out the truth you were dearly in love with Spencer Reid?

“Oh” he went right back to looking at the files on the table. Bottom lip caught between his teeth, something he usually did when he was holding himself back from opening his mouth to speak again.

It fell into an uncomfortable silence now.

"are you?” Spencer snapped his head up to look at you so fast you thought he'd might hurt himself. There was something in the way he'd look at you told that you right there and then you might regret asking him that deeply Afraid you wouldn’t like the answer back.

A blush creeped up to his cheeks and neck, his fingers fumbling with his pen. God you were going to hate the answer back. “Yeah, I am actually” you felt like somebody had pushed a knife into your chest.

Like him before, oh. Was all you could say at that moment, throat becoming too tight to form a proper response back. You should have known that he’d been in love before, or is in love. because Spencer reid was somebody who fell for someone easily, like if they were to offer him candy, gift him some sort of book, sweater vest or even a old school watch. he'd swore he found his soulmate right then.

Masking up your hurt you prepared your heart for the next sentence you wanted to ask, “what was she like” your voice came out small. You were even surprised he actually heard it.

God you wished you could go back five minutes ago before he asked you that stupid question.

You saw the way a light formed in his eyes as he thought of his answer, it was then you realized he wasn’t joking when he’d said he’d been in love before. Because the way his eyes light up, was like he'd solved the worlds hardest equation.

“She is-“ he chuckled a bit obviously opening a book of memories in his head. “She’s so beautiful, kind and smart” you’d never seem that big of a smile on his face when talking about someone, besides his own mom.

You froze a bit, is?. You couldn’t form a response back which made matters worse because he rambled on about her. “She’s great to my mother and friends. The first time we met she brought flowers for my mom and afterwards she cooked this delicious meal, oh my God it was good, feels like I can still taste on my tongue oh and she-“ you could only nod your head at him, feeling like you had blacked out because you couldn't quite hear the rest of what he had to say.

you wished you'd told him how you felt sooner, because then you wouldn't be feeling like this, chest feeling heavy and the tightness in your throat almost hurting you at this point.

"and then I remember one time, she saw i was sad and took me to this movies" he stops himself mid-sentence chuckling at the memory "she brought me so much candy, the cashier looked at us crazy"

Oh …

"I remember I spent that weekend panicking on what I should make you"

realization hit you like a truck. "And she thought we had taken shrooms..." And then silence took over the both of you. You both now just looked at each other from across the table, the once work you both were working on long forgotten.

you both laughed a more comfortable feeling in the room set upon you both. but you couldn't help but still feel embarrassed from not realizing he was pointing you out in the story from the beginning.

"that was still the best pasta I've ever had" he pushed himself up and out of his chair, taking long steps to your end of the table.

you felt glued to your chair as he stood in front of you. Warm hands cupping your cheeks. you nervously gluped, chest heaving up and down the room suddenly felt ten times hotter than before.

"would you mind making it again for me, honey?" honey God you could die right at that moment

"i-i sure.. if you want... I don't mind...um" you nervously chuckled mouth moving faster than you could register.

Spencer softly moved a strand of hair away from your face, before leaning in lips brushing against yours so gently like he was afraid you'd run away. but it soon turned into more passionate, as your hands gripped onto each other wanting so desperately to export one another at that moment.

the position was uncomfortable, which made him lift you up and place you on the table standing between your legs. "Y/n" he muttered against your lips. "I love you"

you pulled away from the kiss, foreheads leaning against each other. "I love you too, Spencer"

[beautiful1sky]

Some boyfriend-headcanons

Deku:

♡ Tells you 1,455,073 times a day how much he loves you, because else he feels like you could forget about it

♡ will introduce you to his mother and I can tell you, she broke down in tears of happiness when she recognised how you actually love him (not because she thinks he didn't deserve love, just because he got bullied back then and is pretty shy)

♡ when he's sad, he just runs to you, hugs you and buries his face in the crook of your neck, the world stops and he can just cry, let it all out, be weak for some minutes

♡ relatively little PDA in public, like no making out or something so extreme, but sometimes holding hands is a must

♡ Loves the feeling of waking up next to you (whether in a dormitory, at home or in hospital). He just feels so safe and loved with you

Bakugou:

♡ Always acts ' aloof ' and ' I don't care ' in public. But at home, or when you're alone, he shows you his gentle, vulnerable side and is also very affectionate

♡ will protect you always, everywhere and from everything and everyone, he knows that you mostly could protect yourself, but that doesn't matter for him

♡ was afraid at first that you might leave him because of his aggressive nature, maybe he isn't always the nicest person, but he really tries

♡ that's why, when you weren't together yet, he always acted nicer to you than usual (i.e. he didn't kiss everyone's arse, but he didn't start any fights) until you told him that you thought his true personality was much cooler

♡ didn't feel like introducing you to his mum at first, but she's loved you like her own daughter since the first time they met

Shoto:

♡ he never knew what real love was, but he is infinitely grateful to you for showing him this side of life

♡ before you stumbled into his life, he had no experience at all, and barely ever got hugs, and so on, so hes starving for touchl

♡ when he is sad or frustrated, he goes to you, takes you by the hand and pulls you to a place where you can be alone to talk to you about it

♡ he would kill for you, and you know that too, of course only if its necessary, but well

♡ As mentioned in the other parts, you train together very often and when Shoto gets injured, you always treat him

Kirishima:

♡ although he always tries to be manly, but when you're alone, he's not manly sometimes either, and he also fell in love with you, because you also love the weaker side he has

♡ when he's sad again, you can always give him a smile, and he's so glad for that

♡ he loves to lie in bed together and cuddle for a long time at weekends or on holiday, not having to stand up early, no school, no training, sometimes he barely leaves the bed then

♡ he gives you small gifts all the time, but never expects anything in return (except maybe cuddling, snogging and being loved)

♡ if you're not feeling well, he'll try to nurse you back to health, with cuddles and cooking soup for you, until you're both ill XD

Denki:

♡ if someone insults you, they'll definitely get electrocuted by him, if not worse

♡ sometimes he flirts with other girls, but mostly it's only out of joke, so you know that only you are his cutie

♡ every night you lie in bed together and talk about your worries and problems, because of your quirk and also in general

♡ he thinks it's super cute when you go on the bus together and you fall asleep on his shoulder, then he leans his head against yours, wraps his arms around you, and also falls asleep

♡ You think it's super funny when he ' overloads ' but you also think it's really cute, so he sometimes just 'overloads' himself to make you smile

Attention: The characters and the gif do not belong to me. All credits go to the actual owners. If you want anything to be changed or removed, please write to me.

[queenshelby]

An Illicit Affair

Part One: My Boyfriend's Father

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

It was 15 months ago when you first met the man who, unbeknownst to you, would eventually become the center of your disastrous life and that man was not your current boyfriend Maximilian Murphy, a twenty-two-year-old Irishman from Dublin.

You had been going out with Max for about a year when you met the man who changed everything for you and, whilst Max was almost an entire year younger than you, you had both met at London's top medical school after he had transferred from Trinity College. 

Max was energetic, confident and intelligent. He was popular with the girls and, although you were drawn to him because of his sense of humor and easygoing nature, it was quite obvious to you that he was much less serious about life in general than you were. 

After a year of non-serious dating, Max eventually told you that he was taking you to Dublin for his father's 46th birthday and it was then when you first laid eyes on him. Cillian Murphy, your boyfriend's father. 

The name "Cillian Murphy" didn't ring any bells for you at the time as you had never seen any of his films, but now, 15 months later, you knew everything that there was to know about him due to the publicity his movie Oppenheimer had received in recent weeks. 

You went to see the movie too with some friends and whilst you had broken up with Max about a year earlier, you happened to recall the weekend you shared with him and his family in Dublin. 

Both Cillian and his wife Danielle made you feel welcome when you arrived with their son Max late on a Friday afternoon at their large Victorian townhouse near the coast, just outside Dublin.

The house was decorated with tasteful modern furniture and a collection of modern art hung on the walls. The living room featured large windows overlooking the sea with heavy curtains blocking the view when needed.

You spent most of Saturday relaxing by the pool with Max, swimming and sunbathing before enjoying a dinner prepared by Danielle for her husband's birthday.

As you sat down at the table, Cillian seemed distracted, and it wasn't until the second glass of wine that he asked you more about yourself and your aspirations.

"So, what do you want to specialize in?" he asked and you looked down at your plate and replied softly, "I haven't decided yet. I think I might enjoy working in pediatrics."

"Working with children can be emotionally demanding," Cillian said, "but I am sure it's  incredibly rewarding," he then went on to say before acknowledging that Max had told him that you were at the top of your class. 

"It sounds like you have a bright future ahead of you," he told you and your heart fluttered a bit as you heard his voice, deep and resonant, filled with warmth and confidence. It was a contrast to Max's playful teasing, something about which made you feel comfortable and safe.

Danielle, Cillian's wife, chimed in with a question for you, "What got you interested in medicine in the first place?" she asked. You paused for a moment, considering how best to explain such a complex answer.

"Well, my dad was a doctor, so healthcare was a part of our household growing up," you began thoughtfully. "But the real turning point came during high school when I visited a friend who was hospitalized with leukemia. Her doctors and nurses took such great care of her, and it really opened my eyes to the impact that medicine could have on people's lives."

Cillian nodded along, seemingly genuinely interested in your response.

"That's amazing," he murmured. "You are genuinely empathetic and that's a good trait to have, especially as a doctor," he went on to say with a smile and you couldn't help but blush slightly under his intense gaze. His piercing blue eyes seemed to look right through you, making you feel vulnerable in a way you hadn't felt before. But instead of feeling uncomfortable, you found yourself strangely drawn to him. There was something magnetic about him, something that made you want to spend more time with him despite the fact that he was twice your age.

The day after his birthday party, while you were lounging around the poolside, you couldn't help but notice Cillian looking at you intently from across the lawn. His eyes held a mysterious glint, a curiosity that seemed to grow stronger every minute.

As if sensing your presence, he approached you and started a friendly conversation. The topics ranged from movies to books, and even personal interests. It was a pleasant surprise finding out that both of you shared a love for Jazz before Max pointed out to you that Jazz music was for "old people", causing Cillian to laugh.

The sound of Cillian's laughter was soothing and comforting.

You felt butterflies in your stomach as adrenaline surged through your veins. You tried to compose yourself, focusing on the casual exchange of small talk, hoping to distract yourself from the strong attraction you felt towards your own boyfriend's father.

But no matter how hard you tried, those enchanting blue eyes kept drawing you back in. The subtle smell of his cologne lingered in the air, filling your senses with a mix of excitement and shame.

Luckily for you however, on Sunday morning, Max and you travelled back to London, leaving behind the memory of the lingering gaze that Cillian gave you as you boarded the plane while, in hindsight, you realized that Cillian's gaze did leave something behind - a seed planted between the lines of your otherwise innocent encounter.

In the months that followed, you found yourself thinking about Cillian more often than you expected and, unfortunately for Max, at the same time as fantasizing about his father, you became more and more annoyed by his immaturities. 

And then, one evening, after another argument between you and Max over whether you should go clubbing or stay in and study, you finally snapped.

"This isn't working out anymore, Max," you told it him straight. "We need different things in life and we would be better off breaking up now rather than prolonging something that won't work long term," you told Max, sitting on the bed of his dorm room, causing his chin to drop.

"You don't mean it," he said, sounding shocked.

"Yes, I do," you said firmly as you looked away from him, knowing that he wouldn't understand why you couldn't go on like this.

"No, please, give me another chance. We can make this work," Max pleaded, moving closer to you, reaching out to touch your arm.

"No, Max, I've made up my mind," you said firmly, avoiding his pleading eyes.

You knew that it was only a matter of time before Max would come to terms with the truth, but you also knew that the process would be painful for both of you.

Max moved closer, grasping your hand gently. "Maybe we just need to communicate better," he suggested, his eyes full of hope. "I love you, you know. I am happy to try anything," he continued but you shook your head.

You pulled your hand away, fighting back tears. "I just... I can't anymore, Max," you whispered quietly. "We tried to make it work several times, but our expectations are quite different. I am taking university serious, but you are not. You have different interests and I think that you would be better of with someone else," you confessed, averting your gaze.

"But... but, what about the future? What about us?" Max stammered, desperation seeping into his tone. You remained silent, allowing the silence to hang heavily between you two. Finally, you took a deep breath.

"I don't want to lose you, Y/N," Max pleaded, his voice quivering. "We have been together for a year, surely we can find a way to make it work. I promise."

You shook your head sadly, unable to meet his desperate gaze.

"We are both still young and year is nothing if you are in your early twenties. I'm sorry, Max," you managed to whisper, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I think it's best if we end things here."

He let out a choked sob, his face crumpling. "Please," he implored, clutching onto your wrist. "Don't leave me like this."

But you couldn't stand it any longer, pulling your arm free. "I need space, Max," you said sharply, rising to your feet.

"I need to focus on myself and my studies right now," you told him while, deep down inside, you knew that something was missing, something was holding you back from fully committing to your relationship.

And it wasn't long before fate intervened as, just over year after your breakup with Max, you ran into Cillian again at a jazz concert in London...

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

idk if you wanna do this but stepcest smut wth ethan landry and reader??? xx sorry if it’s to much

Hiiii! This is the longest thing I've written so far! I hope you like it, I love to build up a story lmao

Pleaser - Stepbrother!Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Part 2, Part 3

Summary: Your stepbrother is getting sick of your innocence facade after seeing the real you.

A/N: I know this won't be everyone's cup of tea, and that's fine. But I've had a few requests like this, so I wanted to write something for the people that are into it. lol, it's 3.6k words, ya girl's been working on this for HOURS.

Your stepbrother is a pain in your ass. Not that you’d admit it out loud though, because your mom thought you were always sweet all the time. You never complained, never acted out, never did anything you shouldn’t.

Ethan saw right through your “Act” as he liked to call it, after running into you at a house party when you’d both graduated. He saw you in the corner, sipping a mixed drink as some loser was trying to get in your pants. He nearly choked on his drink when he saw you go upstairs with the guy, and he immediately felt the jealousy wash over him.

Since then, around your mom and his dad, he’s never made it seem like you were anything other than the narrative you created. When the two of you were alone, though, he loved to do things that made you squirm in your seat. Like the day he was hard as a rock in his grey sweatpants, walking through the kitchen as if nothing was wrong. Or the time he came into your room to ask you a question, wearing only a towel that was hanging lowly on his hips, the water droplets from the shower still on his chest and shoulders. You could never forget the time his hand trailed up your thigh at the dinner table as he was having a normal conversation with his dad, and dirty thoughts ran through your head. After that night, you decided that he needed to sit across from you instead.

He knew you thought he was attractive, and how awful you felt for feeling that way. You’d kind of hoped your mom wouldn’t marry his dad, because you had a crush on him before the night you were introduced to your mom’s new boyfriend and his son. He felt the same way, as he eyed you from across the table that night. Before you knew it, they were engaged, then married.

You had this hot stepbrother move in a few doors down the hall from you, so your innocence act was upped a few notches, hoping that would deter him from trying anything with you. It worked for a while, but after that party, it all went up in flames.

“Hey, sweetheart. Wayne and I want to go on a little weekend trip since we didn’t go on a honeymoon. Do you think you’ll be okay here with Ethan while we’re gone?” Your heart pounded in your chest as your moms’ words as you sat at the dinner table.

“Yeah, I hope you two have fun,” you said, a fake smile plastered on your face to hide how nervous you were.

“I’m sure we can find plenty of things to do,” Ethan said, a smirk playing on his lips. You kicked him under the table, the pained look on his face making you smirk right back at him.

“I’ll leave money for takeout and whatever you guys might need. We’re going to drive up tomorrow night to beat the traffic,” Wayne said, not noticing the interaction.

“Okay, cool. I’ll keep the place clean while you’re gone,” you said to your mom, as Ethan rolled his eyes.

After dinner, you offered to do the dishes so your mom and new stepdad could pack for their trip. With the dishwasher being broken, Wayne volunteered Ethan to help you dry them.

“Do you always have to be such a kiss ass?” he asked, drying a plate and putting it in the cabinet in front of him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, as you scrubbed food off another plate.

“You’re always trying to please people, it’s annoying,” he said lowly, as his dad popped in the kitchen to grab his extra phone charger.

You exchanged smiles with Wayne as he grabbed it and walked back out.

“Like that! You always try to make it seem like you’re this innocent person, but I know you’re not,” he said, taking the plate from you.

“I still don’t know what you’re getting at, Ethan.”

His eyes grew wide as he started to get frustrated.

“Quit playing dumb, I know you’re into me, too. I know you think things about me that you shouldn’t. I see right through you, baby.”

You dropped the fork you were washing back down into the sink and grabbed a towel to dry your hands.

“You finish the dishes, asshole.”

Your words were quiet enough for only Ethan to hear you, but they were full of venom. He started to laugh to himself as he stood in front of the sink, finishing the dishes.

Later that night, you were still mad. Ethan was intentionally trying to push your buttons, and if he was going to play dirty, you could too.

When you finished your shower and walked out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, you heard Ethan walking behind you. You smirked to yourself as you accidentally dropped your phone on the floor in front of you.

You bent over in front of him to pick it up, flashing your exposed pussy to him. He stopped in his tracks as he took in the sight, feeling himself getting hard.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were behind me,” you faked embarrassment as Ethan muttered ‘Slut’ and walked around you.

“What was that?” you asked.

He turned and stepped towards you. You were backed against the wall in seconds.

“Don’t start shit you don’t want me to finish,” he whispered in your ear as he towered over you.

Your breath hitched in your throat as your wetness started to reach your upper thighs.

He backed away and smiled sweetly at you. “I’m going to get some water, you need anything?”

You probably should’ve asked for water too, considering how dry your throat instantly got. You shook your head, as you walked into your room.

“Goodnight, sweet dreams,” he said, as you sat down on your bed.

Sexual frustration was coursing through your veins as you sat there. You were almost disappointed that the interaction didn’t go like you’d hoped. You wanted to tease him and go about your night, feeling like you had the upper hand, for once.

The next morning, you decided to go to a friend’s house while your mom and Wayne were at work. You needed to be as far away from Ethan as possible. You didn’t even want to think about him.

“So, how are things with the hot stepbrother? Is he still single?” she asked, the suggestiveness in her voice making you a little jealous. So much for not thinking about him.

“Uh, I don’t know. We don’t talk much,” you said, turning your attention to your phone.

“Well, if your parents are going out of town, maybe I could come over and get to know him,” she smirked, as you rolled your eyes.

“Ethan’s dad isn’t my parent. And we’re not supposed to have people over,” you lied, making her huff.

“Do you always do what your mom asks?”

You started to get mad. First Ethan was giving you shit, now her.

“You’re not coming over to try to fuck Ethan. End of conversation,” you snapped, as she started to get defensive.

“You know, it almost seems like you want to fuck him,” she scoffed out, “Or maybe you already are.”

“This is fucking stupid. I’m going home,” you said, grabbing your stuff.

No, wait. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” the tone of her voice was very apologetic, so you turned to face her.

“I’m not having sex with Ethan,” you sighed, “I just don’t want to talk about this.”

“Okay. You want to go to the mall or something?” she said, changing the subject.

“Yeah, I need to get new bras anyway.”

She got up and grabbed her keys, heading out the door with you.

After you made it to Victoria’s Secret, she convinced you to get matching sets of everything you bought, just in case you ever needed it.

“I highly doubt I will need it,” you laughed, as you put the sets in your basket.

“Yeah, right. I know you like to play up the whole ‘I don’t have sex’ thing, but you’re so full of shit,” she said, grabbing a few things for herself off the rack. “I know of at least 3 guys you hooked up with last year.”

“Okay, fuck you,” you said, playfully nudging her into the panty table.

“Ooh these are cute!” she said, holding a pair up. “You need these!”

You rolled your eyes as you added them to the basket. “I need to get the fuck out of here. This graduation money is supposed to be used towards college stuff.”

She started to laugh, “Yeah, well if you get dick in college then I think you’re still using it for the right reasons.”

After heading out of the mall and making it back to the car, you saw a text from your mom.

Mom: Where are you? Dinner starts in an hour, and I’d like to see you before you leave.

You: Sorry, heading home now.

“Hey, I need you to take me home. Mom just texted me,” you said, your anxiety creeping up. As soon as they left, you’d be alone with Ethan.

“That’s cool. We’ll be there in ten.”

When she dropped you off, you hurried to get inside. You set the bag and your purse down on the floor next to the door and went to the kitchen to help your mom with dinner.

“Hey, mom,” you said, giving her a side hug as she stood in front of the stove.

“Hey honey, did you have fun today?”

“Yeah, did you have fun?” Ethan asked from the doorway, holding up the bag that contained all the things you’d just bought.

You mouthed a ‘What the fuck’ to him, before responding. “Yeah, I just got some new stuff for school. I’ll be right back.”

You snatched the bag out of Ethan’s hand and took it to your room before your mom had a chance to see it.

“Who are you planning to wear all that stuff for?” he smirked. It was starting to get annoying.

“Not you,” you snapped, brushing past him and heading back towards the kitchen.

As you sat at the dinner table across from Ethan, you felt his eyes on you the entire time.

“I grabbed some groceries on the way home, so you two should be fine. I transferred some money to your account in case you don’t feel like cooking,” Your mom said to you, “Of course, make sure you use some of it for Ethan, too.”

“Of course, mom.” You smiled, “When are you guys heading out?”

“After dinner, as long as you two wouldn’t mind helping us again with the dishes tonight,” Wayne said, looking over to Ethan.

“We’d love to,” he said, his fake excitement over the dishes evident to everyone at the table.

“No need to be sarcastic,” his dad said, “I hope she keeps you in line while we’re gone.”

Ethan started to smile as he watched you.

“I think I’ll have to keep her in line.”

You tried to kick him under the table again, but he moved his leg before you could.

“I doubt that,” your mom said, taking her plate to the sink.          

After dinner, Ethan took his place beside you as you washed the dishes, and he dried them. There was a strong tension there. Part of you wanted to slap him, part of you wanted to fuck him right there.

“Are you going to take this? Or do I have to hold it all night?” you asked, trying to hand him a wet plate.

“They haven’t left yet, you should probably try to keep your act up until they do,” he said, taking the plate from you.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you huffed, trying to keep busy with the dishes.

“My problem is that you were trying to make me hard last night, knowing we couldn’t do anything about it,” he said lowly, not wanting anyone else to hear what he was saying to you.

“You’re the one that’s been making me wet the last few months. I have no sympathy for last night,” you said, handing him another plate. “You haven’t had any sympathy for anything you’ve done. Always smirking and shit whenever you do something that turns me on.”

“So I make you wet?” he asked, his eyes on you.

“Fuck off, Ethan,” you whispered.

“Are you wet right now?” he asked, pressing you further to hear your answer.

“My mom and your dad are still here. Stop,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Answer the question, baby,” he whispered, when you mom walked in.

“Hey, we’re heading out now. It’s a three-hour drive, but I’ll text you when we get there,” she said, as Wayne walked up beside her.

“You two be safe. Be sure to set the alarm, and don’t forget to water the plants,” he said, before they both made their way through the house and out the door.

As soon as Ethan heard the car pull out of the driveway, he took the glass you were washing out of your hand and set it back in the sink.

“I think you still need to answer my question. Are you wet right now?”

“Fuck, yes Ethan! Is that what you wanted to hear?” you yelled, finally snapping at the situation.

He walked away from you and flopped down on the couch, turning on the tv. You followed him, glaring at him as he sat there.

“I don’t understand you,” you said, as he turned his attention to you.

“What do you mean?” he asked, trying to sound as innocent as you do.

“Oh wait, what was it that you said? Don’t start things you don’t want me to finish?” you asked, walking over towards him. “Well, I think you’ve started something.”

You crawled onto him, straddling his lap as he sat there. His brown eyes looked into yours as he waited for you to make another move.

You head leaned towards his as his hands went to your hips. When your lips touched, it quickly escalated. Your mouths moved together, only stopping to pull your shirt over your head. You started to grind against him, feeling his hard cock pressing against your ass.

“Imagine if your mom saw you like this. Her perfect, innocent daughter, trying to fuck me,” he said, placing kisses along your neck. You whimpered at the feeling as his teeth started to graze the sensitive flesh.

“Can we go to my room?” you asked, desperate for a little relief. Your core was throbbing, and your attempts at giving your clit the friction it needed wasn’t enough.

“Mhm,” he said, standing up as you stayed on him. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you down the hall.

He pressed your back up against the door as he started to kiss you again, the angle of your hips making it easier to grind his erection against your pussy.

“Stop teasing me,” you said, his face inches from yours. You were both breathing heavy, both so needy.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asked, looking over your face as you nodded. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Please fuck me,” you whispered.

He carried you over to the bed laying you back as he quickly got you out of your jeans. He dropped to his knees as your legs hung off the side of the bed, his large hands spreading them apart. He leaned in and started to eat you out over your panties, the material drenched in both your arousal and his saliva.

“Oh fuck,” you mewled, as your hands went to his hair.

He pushed your panties to the side, lapping at your dripping entrance. Your bottom lip was in between your teeth as his tongue started to move up, giving you clit some attention. You looked down to see his eyes connected with yours as you sat up on your elbows.

“Does that feel good, baby?” he asked, sliding two fingers inside of you.

You gasped as his fingers stretched you out, both of them bending to give attention to your g-spot.

His mouth attached back to your clit, his tongue gliding across it as he inched you closer to your orgasm.

It only took a few minutes as you started to feel your dripping pussy clinching around his fingers.

“Oh fuck, Ethan,” you moaned out. Your eyes screwed shut as your mouth fell open.

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me,” he said, coaxing you as your hips started to jolt. “Just like that.”

His mouth gently licked your clit until you started to come back down from your high.

“I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard,” you said, as he stood up.

“That’s because you fuck losers at house parties,” he said, sliding your panties down your legs. “You could’ve had me making you cum like that the whole time.”

“Yeah, like you even noticed me at school before our parents met,” you said, a hint of sadness in your voice.

“That’s not true. I thought you were beautiful, but you were just so sweet. I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said, reaching behind you to unhook your bra. “It was too late once I saw who you really were.”

His mouth went to one of your nipples, sucking it in his mouth as his hand went to your other breast. He made sure to give each one equal attention as you started to whine underneath him.

“Do you have any condoms?” he asked, “If you don’t, I do.”

“Yeah, they’re in a box under my bed,” you said, as he smirked at you.

“Did you hide them there so your mom wouldn’t find them?” he asked, reaching under the bed and grabbing the box.

“Yeah, she still thinks I’m a virgin,” you said, sitting up as he stood against the side of the bed.

You reached over to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants, desperate to get him out of them. You pulled his jeans and boxers halfway down his thighs as his hard cock stood at attention right in front of your face. You felt your mouth start to water as you leaned closer to take him into your mouth.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, as you took him as far in your mouth as you could. His hand went to your hair to hold it out of your face as you moved your head back and forth, your spit dripping down his cock. Your hand reached up to stroke what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, twisting your hand a little.

“Okay, if you want me to fuck you, you have to stop,” he said, laughing. “Who knew your mouth was good for more than the fake niceness that comes out of it.”

You rolled your eyes as you laid back, his hand reaching in the box to grab the foil-wrapped protection.

“Hurry up,” you whined, watching him take his time.

“You almost made me cum a minute ago. I don’t want to bust as soon as I get inside of you,” he said, rolling the condom on. “Be patient, baby. We have the whole weekend to do this.”

He took a couple minutes to give more attention to your nipples, before his mouth met with yours as he slowly slid inside of you. You moaned into the kiss as he stilled inside of you, giving you time to adjust to his size.

His mouth didn’t leave yours, the two of you making out as he started to move his hips. You were both moaning and groaning into each other’s mouths, releasing the sexual frustration that started to build months before.

He pulled away to watch your face as his fingers trailed down your neck, over your collar bone, all the way down to your throbbing clit.

“Oh shit,” you babbled, the feeling of his two fingers rubbing against you as he fucked into you making it hard to form words.

He pulled your legs up over his shoulders, making it easier for him to hit that special spot inside of you. The spot that was making your vision get fuzzy every time the tip of his cock hit it.

“I-fuck..gonna cum,” you finally got out, as your legs started to shake against him. He loved watching you as the wave of euphoria washed over you. The way your nipples got even harder, the way your eyebrows furrowed together, the way you got goosebumps.

As he watched, he felt on the edge of his own orgasm. “God this pussy is so perfect. You’re gonna make me cum.”

It only took a few more pumps into your fluttering walls for his hips to stutter, groaning out as he released into the condom.

“That was…amazing,” you said, your voice showing how tired and fucked out you were.

“You want to go to bed, babe?” he asked, as he took off the condom and put his boxers back on.

“Can you sleep in here with me? you asked, as he shook his head.

“No, I think that would be crossing the line.”

You started to laugh, “So what just happened didn’t cross any lines?”

“You’ve got a point,” he said, crawling in your bed beside you. “I really think you should consider wearing some of that stuff you bought today for me, just saying.”

[thatfandomslut]

Messy

Reneé Rapp x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Trigger Warnings: discussions of sex (no smut), insecurity

Request:

something inspired in Messy, like, renee being afraid of a relationship with r cause things don't end well to her and r comforts her

Reneé Rapp requests are open.

Other accounts: hoe4flo | ghostyanne

Discord Groups: Mean Girls | Mean Girls RP (in need of people)

“I want to be in a relationship with you,” Reneé’s words hung in the bedroom, breaking the silence between them. “I’m just scared of what this might mean for us. What would this mean for me?”

(Y/n) shuffled a bit, turning over to face Reneé. They were supposed to be sleeping, but it was obvious that Reneé had too much on her mind to commit to the idea of sleep. Therefore, (Y/n) was also not getting any sleep either. She didn’t mind though. Late night conversations with Reneé were her favorite. They were so deep, and they dove into topics they haven’t explored yet, like their relationship. It was a taboo topic for the two of them because Reneé has commented several times on not being ready nor is she looking for a relationship.

Although she tried to focus on Reneé’s figure, (Y/n) could barely see the vulnerable look on Reneé’s face in the darkness of her bedroom. “Well, we don’t have to jump into anything. We can take it slow and figure this out together. We can start by going on dates instead of just sex on the weekends after you’re done shooting your show.” (Y/n) teased softly, successfully lighting the mood as Reneé snorted out a soft laugh. She nudged (Y/n)’s shoulder with her hand before moving to the crook of (Y/n)’s neck. Immediately, (Y/n) allowed herself to rub Reneé’s back in a comforting manner.

“A part of me is just nervous this is going to be like my past relationships.” There was a beat of silence where neither of them spoke after that. (Y/n) knew Reneé wasn’t finished speaking, but she needed to figure out her words. She gave her all the time she needed as her thumb caressed Reneé’s back gently. “Every time you leave in the morning, I want to tell you to stay, but all of the fake scenarios in my head tell me not to. They remind me there are more possibilities than you staying with me. Instead, every situation I imagine, is you saying no. It’s you saying that you don’t like me like that, that it’s just my imagination.”

(Y/n) wasn’t expecting Reneé to feel this way. She thought that she had made it very clear that she wasn’t interested in anyone else when last week, Reneé asked if they could only sleep with each other, no one else. If she wasn’t into Reneé, she wouldn’t have agreed. Still, she understood that this was a real fear for Reneé, so she thought about her words carefully to make sure she knew her feelings on the subject were completely valid.

She cleared her throat, shifting slightly to get into a more comfortable position. “Reneé, there is no situation that I would not want to stay with you. Every time I get up to leave, I wish I could stay with you in my arms. I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t want to stay. I just didn’t know you wanted me to. Now that I do know, if you want me to stay in the morning, I am more than happy to.” (Y/n) told the blonde, who laid there in her arms, tears welling in her eyes. Still, Reneé had to remind herself not to cry, she didn’t want to be overly emotional, no matter how vulnerable this conversation was.

Reneé swallowed the lump in her throat, pulling away from (Y/n)’s neck in order to press a deep kiss to her lips. She wanted to hide her feelings within this kiss. Even if it was just for a moment. (Y/n) was initially surprised by the action, but she was very quick to reciprocate as she kissed back. Reneé smiled softly into the kiss.

“What if I wanted to be your girlfriend?” Reneé questioned carefully, hoping that none of her fake scenarios in her head didn’t arise. She felt a bit anxious as she waited for a response. “I mean, it would only be if you’re okay with being girlfriends. I understand if you aren’t, of course.”

(Y/n) kissed Reneé softly to calm her down, which worked. “Reneé, I would love to be your girlfriend, if that’s what you want us to be, too. I’m already technically exclusive to you. I just wanted to be sure we were both ready before we put a label on who or what we were.” She said softly, reminding Reneé that they were technically exclusive. (Y/n) would be lying if she didn’t admit that she wasn’t excited that Reneé was ready to be more than just friends who occasionally had sex.

Reneé bit her lip to hide her smile, despite the dark effectively doing that for her. “I do want to be your girlfriend. I’ve been wanting this for a long time. I’ve just been worried about you not returning my feelings.” Reneé explained, happiness bubbling in her chest as butterflies fluttered every which way in her stomach. Normally, her relationships ended up messy because she couldn’t get over the fake scenarios in her head. However, (Y/n) never invalidated them. Instead, she let Reneé feel her feelings and comforted her fears. This was already different than any of the relationships she had in the past.

“Then, it looks like we’re girlfriends,” (Y/n) said with a soft smile, pressing kisses all over Reneé’s face. This, in return, caused Reneé to giggle at the display of affection. “And, if you ever feel like there is more than one possibility in your head about something in our relationship, just let me know. We’ll talk it out, like we did just now.”

Reneé felt validated by this as she established her spot in (Y/n)’s neck once more, smiling so hard that her cheeks began to ache. “Okay, I’ll let you know. Thank you for letting me know that my feelings are valid.” Reneé whispered, sleep finally threatening to take over her. (Y/n) mumbled a soft ‘of course,’ sleep taking over her as well. As the two girls slept, the trace of their smiles remained at the fact that they finally had this big breakthrough in their relationship.

[delicatebarness]

i think he knows | chapter seven

Summary: How much exactly did Bucky get from the bet?

Warnings: I'm not crying, I'm sweating from my eyes.

Word Count: 1358

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A/N: This might be my favorite chapter so far. However, enjoy, I'll be back writing on Saturday <3

Tags: @bigtreefest | @caplanbuckybarnes | @angelbabyyy99 | @mega-kittyglitter-1 | @cjand10 | @armystay89

The room felt too small, you felt like you were suffocating with him standing this close to you. You could sense that you hurt him, his eyes lost the small glint of hope the second you said it. His head dropped, no longer looking down at you but more at his sock-covered feet. 

“I wanted to talk to you,” His voice trembled, causing your heart to sink to the pit of your stomach. You didn’t know how to feel. “About everything.” 

The memories of the weekend flooded back, causing your eyes to tear up. Here he was, standing in your room, willing to talk. You had the opportunity to get your answers, but, you couldn’t bring yourself to want to hear it. 

“I, I don’t,” you stuttered as you began to flush, trying to find the right words without hurting him more. “I don’t know if I’m ready to talk,” you admitted softly, barely audible.

When he lifted his head back up to look at you, you watched a tear begin to fall down his cheek. His eyes were searching for something in yours, you weren’t sure what.

“Come for a ride with me,” he gestured toward your window, you assumed the open window was how he entered into the room earlier. “Let me take you for a ride, I promise it will only be a ride. We don’t need to talk, just,” he raised his hand to your cheek, barely touching it, he quickly pulled away stopping himself from going too far. “Please, come with me.”

Looking between Bucky and the window, you fought a silent battle in your mind not knowing what to do. Your mind, that was telling you that it was a bad idea. If you go with him, you’ll be giving him more power in the situation. Your heart was telling you the opposite. It told you what you felt that night at The Overlook was real enough. 

Your mom’s voice began to overpower all the warning signs in your head, “If you truly want to know the truth, go with your heart. Your head will make up reasons to not do something that is meant for you” The advice she gave you on Friday night after giving you your space. 

With a sigh, you nodded agreeing to go on the ride with him. His face lit up with glee as he rushed over to put his shoes and jacket back on. You set your textbooks and backpack down in their usual spot before heading to the window. Bucky climbed down first, waiting for you at the bottom. Looking up he watched as you sat in the same spot on the ledge as he did only a few nights back. Guilt once again rushed through his veins, it disappeared as quickly as it came when he noticed your heavy breathing while you looked down at the ground. 

“I’m here,” he called up to you, bringing your attention to him rather than the hard ground below. He stood watching you, his arms pulled up toward you. “I’ve got you, I promise.” 

A promise he kept, with his reassurance you began to climb down and once you were within reach, he helped you the rest of the way. As you landed, you crashed into his chest. Both of your breaths hitched, and looking up at him you caught the remorse in his eyes. For the first time since that moment with him at The Overlook, your mind went quiet. 

~

The engine hummed below you, your mind eased while you pressed against his back again. The street lights began to turn on as you rode past them, the sun disappearing below the horizon. You could have sworn he rode down every street in the town, it felt like you had been riding for hours before he stopped the bike by the lake. The silence was deafening the second he stopped the engine.

You walked side by side down to the lake, taking his jacket off he laid it over the grass, gesturing for you to take a seat on top of it. You accepted the offer with a small smile. You sat with your knee up, chin resting on top. You could feel his gaze on you as he sat beside you on the grass. 

The silence lasted the entire time you watched the sun set completely. It wasn’t until it had disappeared that you found the confidence to speak.

“Who won?” Your voice broke, and your throat felt scratchy as if you hadn’t used your vocal cords in months. Turning to look at him, you noted a confused expression on his face. “The bet, who won?” 

“I promise you, this,” He gestured between the two of you, suggesting you and him were the ‘this’. “This had nothing to do with a bet.” He spoke with confidence, never breaking eye contact with you. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, he was giving you the truth-telling signs but you weren’t fully convinced. “Sure, getting close to the quarterback’s sister, making her let down every wall, distracting her from everything she’s worked for, taking her first kiss,” the tears began to well in your eyes again, you wondered how, how were you still able to cry. “Doesn’t sound like one of your games, at all.” 

Bucky’s expression faltered as he watched the tears stream down your flushed cheeks, he reached out, his hand hovering as he debated whether to touch you or not. “I messed up, I know, I’ve got a reputation.” He pulled his hand back, running it through his hair as he let out a breath. “But this, this is different. You’re different.” His eye pleaded to you as his voice softened. He needed you to believe him. 

“How can I believe you? How do I know that you’re not just,” You couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. You didn’t want it to be the truth, you desperately wanted to believe him.

“I wish I could make you understand that you mean more to me than you’ll ever know,” he sighed, his jaw tensed in frustration. “I knew you didn’t see me, for all these years, but I saw you.” He looked away from you, his gaze now focused on the water ahead of you. “I’m sorry, I did manipulate this, just not in the way you or Steve or anyone else would think.”

He stopped for a moment, he rubbed his face in his hand before back through his hair. He continued, cut you off as you began to speak. “I knew if Steve caught me looking at you, he’d tell you to stay away. I knew if he did that, you’d notice me and it was less of a risk to have you come to me than me come to you.” 

“James, I -” He looked back at you as you tried to find the right words. They didn’t come. Instead, you reached your hand out to his cheek and pulled his face close to yours. For a few seconds, you locked your eyes with his, giving them a chance to show you a reason to not do what your heart was telling you. 

He looked back at you with remorse and guilt, the kind that showed you his heart had pure intentions. They showed you just how much thinking he had hurt you, hurt him. 

You allowed yourself to take a moment to get lost in them. Until his lips parted slightly as if he was about to say something. Pressing your lips against his, you silenced him. 

The kiss was soft, bare. All the doubts and insecurities melted away with every passing second. You explored every inch of each other's mouths, not wasting a single opportunity. Your hand pulled his cheek, his fingers were tangled in your hair, and you both tried to pull each other closer. 

When you finally pulled away, a spark of hope appeared over his smile, a genuine smile. Smirk is nowhere to be seen. You both caught your breath as your hearts pounded together. 

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “Can I call you, Sunshine?”

---

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[sunkeji]

Heyyy can i ask for tsukishima and sakasu were them and the reader try those periods simulation things! The reader is all fine and chill while the boys are screaming bloody murder and asking how the reader deals with these on a monthly basis! Separately please! Thank you!!!!

Period simulator ft. Tsukishima & Sakusa

a/n: I'm sorry I got to this late!! I didn't like how I wrote it originally so I scrapped the whole thing and redid it. Hopefully you like this (⁠^⁠^⁠)

Warnings: curse word used in sakusa's part, not proofread, if taken out of context it sounds pretty weird,it feels like i wrote a descriptive essay.

Imagine you make a bet against your boyfriend that if he was a girl, he wouldn't be able to bear the pain of period cramps but he says otherwise. So after that conversation with him, you purchase a period simulator to try during the weekend with him. Sitting on the couch side by side with the period simulator between you two, he steels himself for what's about to come while you are brimming with anticipation.

Tsukishima Kei

He was super confident at first that he would be able to withstand the pain. Not because he undermines the pain of period cramps but because he thinks he has a high pain tolerance. But little does he know...

At the first setting, it was still alright. It was uncomfortable, but still bearable. He brushed off your teasing comments, telling him that it's okay to back out now if it was too painful. He merely rolled his eyes and quipped back, saying he could go to sleep at this setting.

You crank the pain to level 3 and you see Tsukishima jolt. You give him a teasing smile and he quickly says that it was just very sudden and how he didn't expect it and blah blah blah.

You don't even give him a minute to get use to it when a mischievous smile makes its way to your face and you switch it to the highest setting.

Just as quickly as you switched its setting to the highest, you hear a quiet whimper come out of him. The both of you freeze and time seems to have stopped save for the ticking of the clock in the living room.

You hit him with the:

You open your mouth and are about to say something but he quickly interjects in a quiet voice; "no, keep it to yourself, I don't want to hear it" all while avoiding eye contact. You know he's not being mean, just a bit embarrassed or sulky maybe 🤔 so you don't take it to heart.

After that whole fiasco, he made you promise to not utter a single word to anyone about this. And one more time you bring up the fact that the great Tsukishima Kei had actually whimpered, he might actually strangle you for real this time.

Jokes aside, He's left speechless that you actually have to deal with this each time you get your period. He's much nicer to you now when you're on your period, You get less sass from him when on your period and he's more understanding of your situation now.

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Can’t believe you actually bought it. Scolds you for wasting your money but since you’ve already bought it, might as well try it. He pretends like this whole thing is a nuisance but he is actually very curious.

He’s kinda nervous because from what he’s seen with you on days where your period cramps are really bad, it looks like you’re suffering from an unknown stomach disease that’s plagued the entire female population in the world and you are just another one of its victims.

Some very tiny part of him wants to be tough and show you that he’s strong but in actuality, he’s in for a rude awakening. He takes level 1 and 2 like a breeze but when you turn it up to level 3, beads of sweat are rolling down his forehead and he’s gripping the armrest of the couch and the veins in his arm are visible.

You glance at him, waiting for another reaction but when nothing else happens, you feel a tad bit disappointed and tell him you’ll put it to the highest setting now. He’s about to protest and reaches out to grab your arm but the intensity of the period simulator takes him by surprise and instead he ends up grabbing your thigh and squeezes it hard.

Now the both of you are screaming profanities and are thrashing around. If he doesn’t let go, you can’t adjust the setting of the period simulator. And if you don’t adjust the settings of the period simulator, he can’t let go because it hurts like a bitch. It’s a whole never ending cycle.

So its a few seconds of the two of you thrashing around before you reach under his shirt and yank the wires and simulator off of him. Then, it’s just the sounds of the two of you heavily breathing and trying to catch your breaths. You turn to him and your eyes go wide when you see he actually has a few tears rolling down his cheeks as he stares at you blankly.

Now you’re left wondering what’s the appropriate course of action. Do you start cackling like a maniac because you never thought he’d start crying then console your boyfriend or do it the other way around? Well you didn’t have to think about it for long because a few seconds later, his head fell ontop of your lap with his arm covering his eyes.

You ask him if he’s feeling okay with a goofy smile plastered on your face from the event that had previously unfolded. You hoped your boyfriend wouldn’t move his arm now otherwise he’d pinch you for smiling at his misery. He mumbles softly about how he just needs a few minutes to recollect himself and then he’ll be good to go. So in the meantime, you brush your fingers through his hair. After a few minutes or so he asks you with a sigh; “You’ll never let this go will you?”. You laugh and plant a kiss on his head “Nope!”

You remind him how it feels even worse by adding the nausea, dizziness and low blood pressure you may get. So now he takes extra good care of you 🫶 he feeds you lots of red meat, refills your water bottle and even gives you massages anywhere you're feeling sore.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"The Test." Part One. Sugar Daddy AU. Poly!Ghostface X FEM! AFAB! Sugar Baby Reader.

Okay! OKAY! SO! Do you all remember this, from Kinky/Do-Over-December back in the day? A Stu Macher sugar daddy AU I was fucking around with? This is set in that AU again, in said fic, I mentioned a little beach house weekend getaway with some breaking and entering Ghostface role play, this? Is that! Fully realized, or at least, partially realized for now. This thing is long, I have been working on it on and off for over a fucking YEAR! I started it shortly after I met Matt and Skeet last summer at fan expo, (can you guess why I was feeling inspired?) So because this is so long, (12.6K as of right now) I figured, why not break it up into two parts? And if you guys like it a lot, I might do some more! This is meant to be a three day weekend and this thing when it is done will be just the first night technically, so hit me up and let me know what you think!

PART TWO NOW HERE!

---

Rating. Explict. Length. 7.6K. Billy Loomis/Stu Mach/Sugar Baby FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Age Gap. Sugar Daddy/Sugar Baby Relationship. Sex Work Is Real Work. We Respect Sex Work. Talk Of Sex. Vaginal Fingering. Talk Of Threesome. Extreme Role Play. Mask Kink. Breaking And Entering. Masturbation. Chase. Predetor/Prey. Stalking. Voyeurism. Restrained Reader. Knife Kink. Dirty Talk. Threatening And Possessive Behavior.

---

Initially, it wasn’t something you put much stock into. I mean, it was one of those things that sounded too good to be true, you make a profile, you meet up with men, if you click, and they like you, they pay you to spend time with you. They take you out on dates, and buy you things and sure, they fuck you, but still you could do that? Get paid money to be good company, attractive and a great sexual partner? You think you could at least attempt it. So you figured why not, after some serious online research and looking into other people who had been successful at sugaring you decided to give it a go. You find one of these sites, you spend a good two days on your profile before it goes live and then, you wait. 

When you got your first message, it was honestly pretty exciting, even though you never ended up meeting with said first person, it got you more sure about the process. After some more interest, you end up starting it in earnest. 

You meet up in a public location, the first meeting is always feeling each other out, the next one, if there is one, is getting to know each other better, and then the next is talking about expectations on both sides. You have some real duds here and there, but over time you cultivate some good and regular clients, you make friends on your sites of choice as well as while working, a lot of the guys who look for girls like you tend to keep similar company. Regularly you go to parties or work events or the like and come across another girl just like you and begin to form relationships with them, some becoming good friends because they got it, understood what you went through because they were in it themselves. 

The guys you saw were overall good, you didn’t even have a sexual relationship with all of them, not everyone who seeks out girls in your line of work even want that, a lot just want company, to be heard, or to have someone to show off, and you made for very good arm candy.

You’d been doing good, barely had to do any regular work, still had a part-time job, but most of your lifestyle was paid for by the guys who you saw and entertained and the quality of your life had improved massively at that. You had experience and a good reputation, so when a regular client dropped off, as they sometimes do, he moved too far to be able to continue to see you as he liked, you needed someone to fill the gap. In no particular rush, still fairly comfortable, you were able to be picky about who you accepted into your life. When you got the message from him, it wasn’t this huge defining moment, it was plain and perfectly average, but aren’t most things that end up being fantastic? 

After some regular chatting back and forth together, you and he agree to a meeting, lunch out at one of your favourite spots for testing out a new potential client. 

To say that your life totally changed after that lunch would be incorrect. It was more of a slow burn. Stu Macher was significantly older than you, attractive, had some job pertaining to finance, runs in the family apparently, and had money to toss around. You are not the first girl he’d had in an arrangement like this but, he told you, he has some particular qualities he is looking for in a long term set up. He was up front and honest, he wanted to see you more, he liked you, thought you and he got along well, and you thought the same, but he wanted to test you out. 

“Test me out how?” You asked, and he said, “Like we see each other for a few months and see how it goes, if this can be what I’ve been looking for.”

Interesting. You appreciate his candour if nothing else, you can get behind someone who is explicit and clear about what they want, especially in this respect. “Can I ask what it is that you are looking for?” 

He has this smile that is dripping in undeniable charm before he speaks, “No need to rush, right? Let’s have some fun and not stress.” You assumed that is what will tell him if this, and by extension you, are “right.” 

You could do that, could be fun and easy and go with the flow. What did you have to lose?

Stu is a fun guy, he works hard and is desperate to have a good time and de-stress, you take that want seriously and he takes notice. You do all manner of things together, mostly he plans dates, but you suggest some once you get more comfortable, and he likes that, it not being all up to him, more of a joint effort after a certain point. You clean up amazingly well, he can bring you to any event he wants to, and you slot right in. As for the physical aspect, you didn’t rush into it, but once you got there, it was kind of hard to stop. It became a very frequent thing, you did not mind at all, especially because it led to a slow shift, Stu wanted you around more and more, other clients got in the way of that. 

It was the afternoon, you’d been with Stu since the previous evening, you were trying to leave because you had to go get ready for an event someone else was taking you out to, and he didn’t want you to go. You were sat on the edge of the bed, trying to get your boots on, getting the rest of your outfit back on thus far had been a total fight, he was currently holding you. Arms were loose around your neck as he was leaning into you, “Come on, stay. Let me take you out to that dinner spot you like, the one that we hit up last month, the rooftop place that does the pasta thing-” 

You cut him off with a grin and a laugh, “Stu, I can’t, I have to go. I’ve already stayed way later than I was supposed to but I gotta go home, shower, change…” His arms had slipped down, hands rest on your arms near your elbows, he was laying some kisses along your neck, and you let out a groan with a roll of your eyes, “Knock it off.” You try to let the smile drop off your face as you complain, but you fail.

“I don’t know why you have to go.” He sighed, sounded like he was pouting, his head leaning against yours, and you tell him as you zip up your left boot, “Because I have other people to see.”

“See, that is what I mean! I don't know why you have to see anyone else.” 

You shake his arms off of you and stand up, you turn to see him, sheets are pooled around his hips, and he is shirtless looking up at you. It is a sight that is all too welcome, one you seriously wish you didn’t have to leave. Instead of telling him that, you say, “They help pay for my life, this is my job.”

It is true. Stu had become such a regular that in combination with him and your other clients you were able to quit that shitty part-time job, able to do this full-time. The past couple of months with him were great, you felt good about shifting gears to doing this all the time, thankful he was able to help make it happen.

He looks thoughtful, something is weighing on him, it is as if you can see him turning over the thought on his mind and as you are collecting your bag and coat he says, “What if I gave you more money?”

“What?”

You glance at him over your shoulder, and he says with a shrug, effectively repeating himself, “What if I give you more money? Then you wouldn’t have to go, could stay here with me.” 

Your eyebrows raise as you deadpan, “Stu, please. Don’t joke about that.”

“Who says I’m joking? Does it look like I’m joking?” He asked, and you respond, “You are grinning like you do when you are joking.” 

“What can I say? I just look better with a smile on my face.” You had to agree, but you don’t verbalize it. He speaks again before you can, “I mean it, though. What if I give you more, then you can have more time for me.”

Was he for real? “It would take like a lot more.”

“I have a lot more to give.” He challenged. Searching his eyes, you could tell he meant it. You said, “I need time to think on it.”

His reply is immediate. “Why?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, you don’t want to offend but you and he could be open, honest, and you appreciated that about your set-up, so in the interest of continuing it, you told him, “Because like you said this is meant to be a more casual thing right? You are testing me out, I don’t wanna burn bridges with great clients I copped before you came into the picture if you are gonna leave soon. What am I supposed to do if you bail out?”

It’s tense for a moment. You are staring at him, and he is staring back. It was true, what were you meant to do if he leaves? You could seriously struggle until you build up a good clientele base again. 

“You trust me so much.” He teases, the tone is light and affectionate, and you let your shoulders fall back down, happy he didn’t take serious offence to what you said, “Stu, I do, but seriously, this isn’t a choice that can be made quickly, give me some time to really think on it?”  

“No, no, you’re right. You are just being careful, it’s smart, responsible. I respect you for it.” His smile drops, he says it earnestly, and you believe him as he adds, “Think it over.”

You walk to him, bag over your shoulder, coat folded over your arm, your hand comes out and cups the side of his face, you lean down and kiss him. You linger in it, he lets it be what it is, doesn’t take the opportunity to try and entice you back into his bed, even though if he tried hard enough, he probably could. 

Once you pull back, you tell him, “I will.” You leave him slowly, fingers caressing him, your thumb passing over his cheekbone as you go. “See you Stu.” 

You didn’t bring it up the next time you saw him and neither did he, you think he was waiting you out, seeing when you’d say something. You think about it the whole time, but you just aren’t sure if it is right. Things aren’t weird between you both, if anything, it gets even better and so you at last initiate the conversation, or rather, you are going to, but he starts a different one with you first. 

“Are you busy on Sunday morning?” It was Thursday, you were having lunch, you tell him honestly, “As of right now, no. Why?” 

“I was thinking we could go out to brunch. There’s someone I want to introduce you to.” 

He’d introduced you to lots of people, but usually it was when bumping into someone while out and about or at a party or some other thing he dragged you to. You had never been asked to some specific date to meet a particular person. You asked, “Oh, and who’s that?” 

You had heard a lot about Billy Loomis. Stu had told you a ton about him, shared old stories and made frequent mentions of the times they hung out over the past months you’ve been in Mr.Macher’s life, he even showed you some pictures. One evening a month into your arrangement, he showed you a picture from back when they were in high school. You take it from his fingers with a grin as you exclaim, “Oh my God! So you’ve just always been hot, huh?” 

You don’t comment on it at the time, but you thought his lifetime best friend who was sitting next to him on the fountain in the photograph was pretty hot too. When Stu posed the idea of you meeting him? You jumped at the opportunity, a passive thought at the back of your mind wondering if he aged as well as Stu had. 

It is quarter to eleven o’clock when you stride into the place with Stu. You have your hand on his arm, and you are caught up in something he is saying, looking up at him until you see his gaze catch something, original thought and sentence abandoned as his grin widens and calls out, “Hey man!” 

You follow where he is looking and eyes fall on who is unmistakably who you are here to see, yeah he was of course older than he was in the picture that you saw but no doubt it was him. He gets up as you both approach, a polite gesture and one that isn’t necessary, but the fact he did is telling, it resonates. You like that. 

He is also very obviously checking you out, you also like that. 

Seeing how Stu interacted with him first hand is a total treat. The greeting and how they touch shows a friendly familiarity, both leaning into the hug like it was the most natural thing either of them had ever done. You knew they were still in touch and spent time together regularly but witnessing it all in real time is a different story. They get along well, a clear history and investment between them both. He asked you questions and genuinely listened, seemed interested, he also responded to your questions too.

“When did you and Stu meet?” 

“He didn’t tell you?” He asked with a smile, and Stu cuts in, “She never asked!”

“What am I gonna do with you, man?” He sighs the sigh of the world-weary and put upon yet still with a smile on his face he next imparts, “Let me tell you how it happened since he apparently won’t.” 

They’d known each other since they were kids, well before high school, longer than you’d anticipated, lifetime best friends indeed. You thought it was nice, a friends forever kind of deal, the fact they’ve remained close so far into adulthood and still made time for each other was honestly kind of touching. The conversation even went into some stories of their friendship while they were growing up, excited recollections shared over crêpes, eggs benny, coffee and fresh fruit juice.

It was a good time, you were glad you agreed to come, and after you ate but before the check you excused yourself to the bathroom. 

As soon as you were out of earshot, Stu was staring at his friend as he asked, “Soooo?”

Billy looked away from your retreating form, and more in particular your ass, and instead back across the table to Stu, “Soooo what?”

He scoffs with a roll of his eyes, “So, what do you think of her?”

“Oh she’s great. I totally get what you mean when you’ve been talking about her, funny, cute, lively, a real good time.” He admits with a half shrug and Stu sighed, “But?”

It hangs for a moment before the response comes, “But I dunno if she is right for what we want to do.” 

“There it is, I fucking knew it!” A light hit of his hand on the table that made the dirty plates jostle slightly, a quiet rattle before he goes in on Billy. “Why isn’t she good enough?” Stu is leaning forward on his crossed arms as he presses, and Billy says, “It’s a serious thing, man, it isn’t for just anyone.”

“You think I don’t know that? I wouldn’t bring her if I didn’t think she was right. I’ve been seeing her for months and really, Billy, she is something else.” Stu insists, and Billy sighs, “So you keep saying.”

Lowering his voice next, he responds with,“You helped pick her out, remember? You liked her first, and I put in the effort to do this.” 

“Don’t act like it’s a chore, you and I both know you don’t hate the selection process or the ‘trying them out’ either. You’d be seeking out these kinds of arrangements even without my hand in it, this is just a bonus for us both, one that doesn’t need to be rushed into either.” Billy told him and Stu said, “I am not saying that at all, of course I like it dude, and I am not rushing this, I am just saying, what do we have to lose by trying this and by you trusting me?”

The small staring contest across the table lasts less than a tense silence filled minute before Billy speaks, seemingly surprised, “Shit, you really do think she’s right.”

“Duh, that’s what I’ve been saying. Listen to me, I’ve been careful, I’ve played, pushed the boundaries and I think she is the best we could ever hope for so.” The pause isn’t long, but it doesn’t need to be before the real question is posed. “Can I ask?” 

When you came back to the table, the brunch lasted less than twenty more minutes before the bill was paid and you and Stu parted ways from Billy. Warm goodbyes and waves, and promises to do this again sometime soon. 

Naturally, on the way back to his place he is asking what you thought of it all, and you admitted that you thought Billy was cool, enjoyed getting to know him and were looking forward to next time. That real question was asked with you spread out on his couch, him leaning over you, hand between your legs and two fingers curling just right inside you, his mouth lifts off your neck as he asks, “What are your feelings on the topic of threesomes?”

An indulgent smile crosses your face, a deep breath as you ask, “Was this what pushed you to introduce me to him today?”

Another flex of his fingers makes it hard to breathe normally, and he says, “Answer the question.” 

You nod shakily and tell him your stance on threesomes over the wet sound of his fingers working in and out of you, “Pro. Very, very pro.”

That answer was just what he wanted to hear, but it didn’t end there. “You’d be into it then, hm? You wanna fuck my best friend?” 

You were helpless to do anything else but moan your consent as you clenched around his fingers. “Yeah, you want it. Want to get split open from both ends, totally used.”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact that you completely agreed with. You did. The more he talked about it, the better it sounded. More words shared, more dirty talk, hopeful ideas posed, and you were clearly eating every last bit of it up. Soon enough your legs were around his hips and he was as deep as could be, hands on your back and asking low in your ear, “We were thinking next weekend, you’d like that?” 

Holy shit, yes you would. 

It wasn’t just a threesome he, or rather, they wanted, it was a little more complex than that. He outlined what he wanted in full, when you weren’t actively fucking, and it was so clear, so precise, it was impressive. Clearly, they both had wanted it for a long while, he seems very excited when telling you about it, and it got you excited, the whole thing sounded so hot, you readily agreed, you trusted him, the plan was made. 

You could hardly contain your excitement for the next week, but soon enough you are in your rented car, driving yourself to where you’d been instructed to for this weekend’s plan. The drive is a good one, relaxing, it’s summer and mid-morning, the radio is playing and you are feeling good.

Upon arrival and getting out, you place your sunglasses on top of your head, staring up at the multi-level beach house you’d be residing in for the next three days, it’s massive for only one person and stunning, well maintained. Bags gotten from the back, you don’t waste time on the driveway and make your way inside. The outside didn’t even do it justice, looks even better inside, big windows, lots of natural light, the living room is comfortable, the kitchen is gorgeous, the back patio looks like the perfect place to have lunch later. 

You scope out the rest of the place, drop your bags in the bedroom upstairs, and you spend the rest of the day however you like. A trip into the nearby town, you get some good food, plan out what you are going to make for dinner, when you are back you have that lunch on the patio and the rest of your afternoon? After you change, you head down to the beach and spend it in the water and on the sand, relaxing with some music and a book. 

It’s hours and hours later. 

Dinner was fantastic, you’d made one of your favourites, indulged in dessert and drew a bath that you soaked in for a long time before finally pulling yourself out of it. Fluffy robe around yourself, you make your way back to the bedroom and take advantage of your very relaxed state at the moment, you hadn’t even bothered to tie the robe up, flopping back onto the bed. The robe was open, mostly just looped around your shoulders at this point, one hand slipping down your body and intent on working up a sweat, adding to the moisture on your already damp skin. 

You put on a very good show. 

They’d let you arrive first, but had been casually watching from afar for a while. They didn’t tell you when they’d arrive, they’d showed up when you had been cleaning up from lunch and then got changed for the beach. The pair had brought their bags in while you were in the water, hid them in the basement before really watching you, too far down the beach for you to recognize them, looking like just two average beach goers. This was fun, the casual stalking, the clear thought and intention, building anticipation for later that night. 

Stu opens the cooler upon his friends’ prompting, passing him the cold can, “How long have we wanted to do this?”

Billy exhaled as he accepted the beer, “Fuck man, years, don’t ask me how many, but years.”

A small beat before Stu asks, “Think it will live up to it?” 

“I’m trying to keep my expectations…” He hums as he cracks open the can, he takes a sip, leaves Stu hanging before finally saying, “-Realistic.”

“Come on, don’t act like you aren’t excited.” Stu nudged him before opening up his own can and Billy shifted in his comfortable beach chair, he was half hard watching you coming back out of the water, totally unaware of them. He was excited, really excited but again, talking about it and experiencing it are different, he isn’t trying to get his hopes up too high. 

“I’m into it, I swear, just again I dunno how it’s all gonna pan out.” 

“Your lack of faith is staggering.” Stu deadpans and Billy proceeds to defend himself, a gesture of his hands trying to communicate his point more strongly, “Listen, I am being open, I’m just not convinced.”

Receiving a harsh look, Stu’s mouth a flat unimpressed line is what makes Billy add on, “Yet.” 

Billy’s smile makes Stu smile too, and he says, “I’ll make you eat those words.” 

A small shake of his head as he brings up his drink for another sip,“I honestly hope you do.” 

The conversation on the beach was hours ago, their own shared meal eaten outside in the dark, hidden, watching you through the window as you sat at the table and indulged in what you made. After that, while you were bathing, they busied themselves with getting geared up in the garage, they’d stowed the outfits there earlier and had let themselves in through the side door. 

The excitement permeates the space between the pair. 

There is no talking at this moment, but both are thinking so loud, it was as if they were having a full-blown conversation, memories of previous times and feelings of exhilaration over what new stories to recall could be made tonight. Boot laces tied tightly, and robes over street clothes, masks on making breathing sound so much deeper and gloves pulled onto hands, over itchy fingers desperate to do all manner of depravity. 

It starts the way they always wanted it to, the only way that it should, with a phone call. 

Your phone on is on the nightstand, and it rings, your head lolls back, a look over, nose scrunching up wondering who is calling at this time. You roll onto your stomach, you scoop up your phone with one hand before rolling back over, you look at the screen, unknown number, but you shrug and answer it anyway, what have you got to lose? You swipe and bring the phone down to your ear and say, “Hello?”

You hear a laugh, small and a tad surprised, before the greeting is returned, “Hello there.” 

Curious, now why would the person on the other end be laughing? It prompts you to ask, “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing, don’t worry about it.” Interesting, you ask, “Sorry, so, uh who is this?”

“Awfully inquisitive, aren’t you?” He asks, and you ask in turn, your hand that wasn't holding the phone is up in front of your face, you are looking at it as you speak, “Am I?”

“All you’ve said so far are questions, from greeting to now, can’t it just be enough that I am a…Curious party.” You spread your fingers, they are still wet from your earlier activities. You are still soaked, aching, throbbing, thighs rub together restlessly as you ask further, “A curious party?”

“Yeah, just someone looking for some good conversation on a lonely Friday night, desperate for someone interesting to talk to, and you seem very, very interesting.” 

You spread your fingers again, watch the creamy strings of arousal break apart from the action, you ask, “Really? I seem that interesting that I am your best option to spend your time with on a Friday evening?” 

“What’s wrong with that?” Whoever he was asked, your hand comes down without thought, you suck the mess from your fingers, the taste is tangy and salty, thoroughly you, delightful. You pull your fingers back out of your mouth as you respond wetly into the phone, “Nothing terminal, it’s just a tad…”

You swallow it down and then finish your thought, “Pathetic.”

The voice sounds almost offended on the other end, shocked as he asks, “Pathetic?”

“Just a little! Like you don’t have a hot date or plans to see a movie, you are just, what? Cold calling strangers in hopes of someone to talk to? Kinda screams pathetic.” You are smiling, damp fingertips linger on your bottom lip and the voice speaks, once again curious as if still in disbelief over your assertion, “I’m pathetic?”

You roll your eyes and say, “Half-pathetic, is that better? C’mon, don’t get hung up on it, we were having fun, weren’t we?”

“Seems you were having more fun before I called.” He bites, and it’s your turn to laugh, “What makes you say that?” 

The question was genuine, how did he have any idea what you were up to before he called?

You got your answer very quickly, “As much as I am enjoying this conversation, I think you were enjoying having those fingers buried in that pretty little cunt a Hell of a lot more than this back and forth we are having at the moment.”

Heart drops, stomach tightens and your thighs still, hand dropping from your mouth, silence overtakes, how the fuck did he know that? 

It’s heavy for a moment until he breaks the quiet, “Oh you got nothing to say to that? Now who’s pathetic?” 

Your mouth opens and closes, tongue runs nervously over your lips as you try to find the words to respond, attempting to conjure up an adequate response but none springs to mind fast enough because he cuts in again, he sounds a mix between dangerously venomous and utterly amused, “You really are struggling! Did your brain leak outta your skull, hmm? No blood flow between the ears, it seems, it’s all pooled between your legs.” 

You sit up, mouth having fully fallen open, the words trying to soak into your grey matter as you bite back, “I have a brain!” 

The response from the receiver is sharper in tone than the edge of a fucking knife. “Act like it.” 

Holy fucking shit. 

You still have not spoken, so he continues to, “Because right now, you just seem totally fucking brain-dead, can’t even string a single sentence together. Is your mind elsewhere? Do you want to keep putting on a show for me instead?-”

He can see you. He has to, how else would he know what you have been up to, he is fucking talking, again,  “-I bet you do. Go on, go ahead, get those fingers back in that tight looking little hole, I’m waiting.”

You were not about to do this, were you? There was no fucking way that you would give in so easily, no you weren’t about to start masturbating for this freak on the phone, you were going to do something far more productive, track the son of a bitch. You are sitting up, looking around, the still wet hand closing your robe over your chest while your other hand held the phone to your ear. 

Get your body covered, get up off the bed, make sure the doors are locked, make it, so this freak can’t get in, go, go, go- his voice cuts through your train of thought once more, “Oh you are so cute! You are not going to find me that easily.” 

He might be right, but that doesn’t mean you were going to give up that easily, you are out of bed, robe is closed, and you are across the room, hand on the door knob, you twist, pull, the door opens, and it is revealed that you are in fact not actually alone in this beach house. 

“Surprise!” 

A tall figure clad in black hooded robes, a bleached bone white mask staring down at you, black eyes and mouth twisted open in a permanent scream, it makes you want to do that yourself. 

Instead, what you do is react quicker than you ever thought you could, you drop the phone, your hand comes up, and you move, slamming the door closed, one hand on the wood and the other still braced on the knob moves, you click the lock closed. Backing up, hands held up, bare foot brushing against the discarded cell abandoned on the floor as if on a cue the phone starting ringing when you made contact with it again, you jumped and vowed not to answer it. The pounding on the door is loud and incessant, he’s strong, he can get in here if he really wants to, and it sounds like he really fucking wants to. You think fast, you look around the room and make a choice that you can’t stay in here, you have a place you can go, but it’s risky, you have to be careful. 

You turn on your heel and move, abandon the door and still ringing phone and as you leave both sounds gets a little quieter, you enter into the ensuite bathroom, you close its door and lock it too before you hurry to the window. Cinching the robe’s belt tighter around your waist, you double knot it, and then you open the window, the breeze rolls in, fresh air on your face feels nice, soothing and calming, a slight balm to your currently frayed nerves and overactive mind, the smell of sea salt is strong. 

Fingers deftly roll your sleeves up, folding them, so they rest around your elbows, and then you set to your plan, you start to climb out the window. This place had a slanted roof, at a small angle, one you’d have to be cautious walking on, but you could walk on it all the same. You were going to hold on for dear life and make your way to the guest bedroom window, creep in quietly and then be able to hopefully get downstairs and out, away from this freak who wants to do God knows what to you. 

Doing this barefoot, is it smart or stupid? You find you can’t decide as you carefully step on the rough tiling, you have one hand on the top of the windowsill, and soon you are out into the open air, you keep one hand up, and slowly you start to move, hand braced on the roof, fingers passing over as you shuffle and move. You feel like a bit of a cliché’ as you keep thinking, “Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down-” 

You manage to make it after about a minute of mindful manoeuvring, your hand grips onto the window’s ledge and your other hand forces the window open, thank the Lord it wasn’t locked. The want to throw yourself inside is immense, but you have to be careful, instead you ease yourself in, ears strain to listen, you don’t hear the pounding, did he give up? You have to check. You creep to the door and peek out down the hallway towards the bedroom you’d been staying in, the door is open, and he is nowhere to be found, shit. 

No point in lingering, you have to make a move, or he will find you, quick and quiet feet carry you through the door and to the top of the stairs, your hand grips the railing, and you are about to start your descent when your periphery catches it, a flash of black fabric. Your heart seizes, and you swallow thickly, stomach dropping you don’t wait to confirm it, sure your mind might be playing tricks on you in your heightened state of terror, but why risk it? 

Down you go. 

You think that outside is best, try to make it down the dark beach under the cover of the night to the next beach house, ask for help, the robe you wore is white and not exactly the best for sneaking around, “Beggars can’t be choosers-” you muse as you pad down the hallway and towards the kitchen. You make your way through and were headed to the doors at the back leading out to the patio, so close, you’d be outside again and could hopefully make your escape. 

You have sincere hope. 

That same hope was short-lived. It died when the door swung open before you could reach it, when that same figure from earlier in that same outfit stepped inside. Tall and imposing, the air carried in from outside smelt like the beach usually does, salt tinges the air, you can hear the faint crash of the waves outside. The fragile and glass like pane of your now clearly false sense of security, that bubble of unearned cocky confidence that you could do this, get out, unscathed? It burst, popped, lays shattered at your feet that were currently trying to go backwards again. You don’t turn, try to back up as the one your eyes are locked on is advancing, the door had been closed, it’s too quiet, black boots on tile as he approaches, and you back up into something solid, firm, warm. Eyes look up, head tips back, a second figure, another mask, ah yes, of course. 

There are two of them, after all. 

No chance to move, hands settle slowly on your shoulders, a squeeze that is firm and felt through the plush material of the robe. The feeling of another hand on you makes your head snap back down, leather clad fingers trace down your chin and neck, “You did better than I thought you would. You mighta got away with it if it was just him, if I wasn’t outside watching, I saw your little stunt on the roof. Impressive honestly, real brave.”

His hand is moving lower, fingers dipping into the split in the front of your robe and something in you snaps, you don’t want to give in or give up yet, so you, once again, move. You pushed, both hands land on his chest, and you shove him backwards, the action is fast, it catches him off guard, perhaps he was a little too confident himself, assuming his accomplice having his hands on you would root you to the spot in fear alone. It is not enough, the other man’s grip was loose and with an elbow thrown back right after, catching him in the stomach you are off the second his hands slip away. 

You go to the left and try to pick up the pace as fast as you possibly can, you can still make it out of this intact, but you didn’t account for a few things. The floors are tile transitioning to hardwood, you are barefoot and sweating from fear and adrenaline, and how far they can reach, the minor moment it takes to recover after partially slipping is more than enough to give them the edge they require. 

You had made it a whole five pathetic steps before the hand is locked firmly onto your arm and yanking you back, hitting into the solid wall of his chest. You feel the touch of cool plastic from the mask he wore on the side of your face as he breathes out, “Aweee, too fucking bad.” 

The grip is unyielding as you are moved against your will, dragged towards the kitchen table, you struggle the whole way even though it is futile, helpless to the point it pulls a laugh out of them. 

“Such a try-hard!” Croons the one hauling you over hardwood, your toes barely skimming the smooth surface as you try to kick and wriggle away, “It’s adorable.” Calls the other, you can hear his smile behind the mask, following behind at a leisurely pace. 

Soon you are right in front of the table, and you are turned, ass pressed against the corner, there are hands-on your wrists, holding your hands behind your back, the grip painfully tight by the figure behind you. Yet you don’t give in, not bothered by the unusual angle of the edge of the table that between you and him. The table is heavy and thick wood, even the smallest part of it combined with his hands make your continued attempt once again laughable, no way you can have enough strength or leverage to budge the piece of furniture. You are still struggling, but the other one steps forward, his hands lock onto your shoulders. “Knock it off.”

Held by them, the multiple points of contact, the support of the table, you are thoroughly fucked. The bright flame of hope of escape inside of you dims, but the part of you that is acutely aware that this is a game, that under these masks are the men you know, one who you trust immensely, Stu, and the other his best friend Billy, and that thought? Instead, makes arousal spark in terrors place. You can truly allow yourself to feel everything, can give yourself over and into the game they set up.

“Seriously, you’ve lost. Accept it honey.” The last word is spoken with a particular spine-chilling bite that allows a tinge of fear to remain, you let it fuel the want further. 

You were just in this position. Your eyes flick over the few feet where you were bracketed by them both, totally boxed in, you had not been able to get away, no match for them. One hand is off your shoulder, the leather clad hand is gripping your face, it makes your eyes snap back to the mask staring you down. “Your eyes should always be on us, understood?”

Which one was this? You thought you’d be able to tell because of all your experience with Stu, but you really cannot nail it down, you are intimately familiar with Stu’s touch and his voice, but they sound different, not at all familiar. Not in a bad way, the voice they’ve adopted somehow is more than working for you, deeper, smooth yet still rough around the edges; the timbre of it resonates deep within, makes you think if pressed to bone it could vibrate you from the inside out, shake what makes you, you from your very body, separate spirit from flesh.

You’d have to ask later how they were doing it. 

Right now, you respond to what he said, a small nod as you confess, “I understand.”

“Good.” He all but purrs as his hand pats your cheek, condescendingly. 

“Ready for us to start having some real fun? Make that lame little conversation we had on the phone seem dull in comparison?” The one behind questioned and the one in front seemed all too enthusiastic. 

“God yes.” Came the response, “Watching her on the beach earlier was a total tease and I could barely get a good look at her in bed, I need to see this body up close.” 

No chance to react to the knowledge they were watching you on the beach, they probably were stalking you all fucking day without you even realizing it. Hands grip and your robe is pulled open and pushed down, your arms are locked to your sides by how the material bunches and sits, your tits fully out and on display. 

“Look at her.” Gloved hands are on you, touching you, palming your chest, groping, thumbs pass over your nipples lightly making you inhale a hair harder. You feel the mask on your bared shoulder, the assailant behind you also taking in the view and the slow, easy touches of leather encased fingers on delicate flesh.

“She’s not made of glass, you won’t break her.” The encouragement makes the treatment get rougher, a pinch of the sensitive peaks makes you tense momentarily from the jolt of pain. 

They take notice. Amusement is back as the one currently rolling your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers says, “Oh, we are gonna be a lot rougher than that, but, don’t worry, you can take it.” 

As if to punctuate what he said and prove he can make good on his promise, one hand abandons toying with you and smacks your breast. The pain is different, sharper, it gets a bigger reaction, you squirm, body bows, and he hits again, another rock of your body, another hit lands. You exhale sharply, and you can feel the energy between the pair, it’s light and giddy. 

“Can’t wait to see all the reactions we can pull outta her. Get her on the table.” 

“In a minute.” Calls the one behind you. He lets go of your wrists, confident you are too distracted to do much of anything in the midst of your tit torture session. He unties the robe’s belt around your waist and pulls it behind, using it to bind your wrists, he twists and twines it, wraps it around, knots it tightly, with the thick material still bunched around your elbows, your arms are effectively useless. 

“There.” The one behind says before he hooks his fingers in the expert knots and pulls hard, your back hits the table, your tied hands rest in the small of your back, your weight on top of them will make them fall asleep you are sure of it as you groan. Between them both, you are adjusted, your head is hanging off the edge of the table, legs half hanging off the other side. You are exposed totally now, the robe is barely on and has fallen to the sides, neck, chest, stomach and lower all bare.

One of the chairs next to your head is pulled out, leg raises, black boot on the seat of the chair in plain view of you, and you watch as the knife on the ankle holster is removed. The knife is large, you’ve seen it before, in a movie once, the name flashes through your mind, bowie sounds correct. 

His boot moves, swings down, connects with the floor again and in a swift movement you feel the edge of cold steel against your throat. Your eyes go wide, a harsh swallow and the knife is held closer, if you attempted this action again you are sure that your skin would break, and you would bleed, a frightfully exciting concept. 

“This here is what we like to call incentive.” He all but purrs and the one at the other end of the table, currently standing between your legs, pipes up, “That’s a big word, you might want to spell it out.” 

A shared laugh, “Good point.” The flat of the blade taps, and he expounds, “This is here to make sure that you do every filthy, fucked up thing that crosses our minds, understood?” 

You had no option but to comply, to play nice and play the part of the good pliant fuck doll. 

The next move couldn’t be clearer to you. Eyes flick up and meet his hidden behind that mask, you tilt your chin up, holding your head with confidence, leaning into the blade, not shying away, not fearful and asked, “What’s first?”

[cjgladback]

I went to my first fiber festival this past weekend! Hoosier Hills Fiber Festival; if I'm still in this state come June next year, I'll probably be back and would love to meet anybody else there. Socializing/hanging out/talking to people without feeling like I was obstructing Real Customers was the one thing I missed, though I didn't really get to any of the free lectures so maybe that's where I could've met some people. Since it was an unknown situation with a lot of people and nearly an hour drive each way, I strategized to make sure I'd go:

First day, I signed up for a couple volunteer shifts. Absolutely a recommended strategy.

Got to be helpful!

They happened to have goodie bags, to help me justify the gas and time (I now have a nice tape measure to replace the one that's been vacationing with a missing sewing kit for a couple years and a lasercut wood two-inch gauge window that might help me with consistency versus my suboptimal practice of just trying to knit perfect squares when swatching in pattern)

I got to learn things about the layout and schedule I wouldn't know to ask when answering questions and acting as a gofer -- especially true working two different locations

And of course, some people were pretty much guaranteed to be happy to see me!

Second day, I signed up for a workshop in the morning so I'd be there and able to shop for anything I needed at the end. Ombre yarn dyeing was the class! It's acid dyes, something I'm several years off from wanting to get into enough to commit to dedicated cookware, full pots of dye powder, etc. The room with the workshop was a barn that had plenty of outlets--but they did not represent plenty of breakers. So there weren't quite enough functional heating elements for the class to have sufficiently cooked our yarn before leaving, and I did need to risk a giant stock pot at home for three batches of four jars, almost-simmering in a water bath for thirty minutes each, of the yarn that hadn't proven it was done (all but the two palest greens). I was a little worried the delay/drawn out heat situation would affect the results but if it did it wasn't much; I got pretty much exactly what I was hoping for with my two color gradient and the single is great too!

The single dye gradient is the color Moss, which did some interesting things with the red portion separating out once they were heated. Every skein has redder blotches, so I'm not bothered about any inconsistency -- if anything it'll help my finished product camouflage stains. Though it was definitely a surprise for me and the other Moss user in the class when our first yarn to have exhausted the dye was the complementary color to what it went in as.

The two color gradient used Rhodamine Red on one end, which was one end of one of our instructor's samples where she chose a cool-green for the other end to show how multi-component dyes mix less predictably than most paint. (It was kinda like shading with markers where you can still see washes of the pink and green in what you squint at and call a grey-brown.) The other end was Cantaloupe, which was one of the maybe three colors she didn't have a sample cut of yarn for. But she described it as the flesh of a perfect ripe cantaloupe and obviously I had to see that, and it sounded like it would be fairly guaranteed to combine nicely with the magenta while being just enough around a bend in the color wheel to be interesting--warm orange versus cool pink. As I said, it turned out pretty much exactly as I was picturing. Not anticipated was how much the jars looked like they were full of some delicious dragonfruit-mango beverage. Were I still a barista I'd be trying to recreate this for my shift drink.

Image descriptions under the cut.

[ID: Five images following fourteen small skeins of sock yarn dyed in individual glass jars, in two gradients. One gradient is six skeins from a medium forest green through a pale creamy pink, the other is eight skeins from a vibrant yellow orange through an even more vibrant magenta. The first photo is inside under fluorescent lights, showing the 32oz glass canning jars with metal lids and rings, full of dye and yarn on a table at the end of the class in which they were filled and heated for a short time.

The next two images are animated gifs. The first gif is two frames showing the finished dye jars sitting in grass, with their yarn and with it removed. The green gradient left only transparent blue color in its jars, and most of the pink to orange gradient's water looks more orange without its yarn, aside from the third and fourth jars from the orange end, which shade toward a neon lilac with the peachy pink yarn removed. The second gif is a view of the inside of the bright green wash bucket, with just the pink-orange yarn in it, then all of them mixed up, all as they were after a soak with the rust-brown water, in the first rinse, and that rinse water alone showing its transparent but still brown tint.

The last two photos show the gradients lined up along a weathered wooden bench on the side of a deck. The first photo has the wet piles of yarn bundled in front of each of their respective jars with remaining dye. The final photo has the clean, dry yarn wound into center-pull balls and still vibrant in the direct sunlight. End ID]

[therealdisneyfan2319]

First Night | Wanda Maximoff

Summary: Your first time with Wanda :)

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Smut (Minors DNI), language, age gap (R is 25, Wanda is 38)

Word Count: 4.3K

Masterlist

A/N: This is a Stripper MILF Wanda fic.  It takes place during the events of Woman of the Night.  Welcome to the Stripper MILF Wanda Cinematic Universe!  

Wanda was definitely not expecting to see you standing in her kitchen at midnight cooking pasta, but there was a first time for everything. 

“Oh god,” she gasped, clutching her chest as she saw you standing in the kitchen.

“Hey babe,” you grinned as you stirred the strands of linguini around the sauce pan, mixing it with the marinara sauce you stole from the cupboard.  “How was work?”

“Work was fine how…how did you get in here?” Wanda asked.  She dropped her duffle bag on the ground, trying to figure out both why and how you were standing in the kitchen.

“Oh, I climbed in through the window.  It was unlocked.”

“Okay, but why?” she asked with a chuckle.

“Am I not allowed to make dinner for my girlfriend?” you asked as you turned off the burner, carefully stirring the pasta so as to not spill any over the side of the pan.

“Grateful as I am, sweetheart, it’s midnight.”  She wrapped her arms around you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder as she squeezed you close.

“And?”

“Some of us aren’t in our twenties anymore, Y/N.  Some of us like to be asleep before the sun comes up.”

“Do you at least want some food?  I have to say, I think this is my best pasta yet.”

“I told you I’d have you whipped into shape in no time.  I might not be Italian, but I’m still a pretty good cook if I do say so myself.  The boys haven’t gone hungry yet,” she chuckled, tickling your sides as she squeezed you close.

“Hey now!”  You jumped as she tickled you, whipping the spoon out of the pan and speckling the counter with the red sauce.  “Keep that up and no pasta for you!”

“Oh shut up,” Wanda rolled her eyes as she grabbed the spoon from your hand.  “You’re lucky the boys aren’t home this weekend.  They would’ve ambushed you with their nerf guns if they heard someone break into the house.”

“Well if I actually met them…”

“Y/N, I told you.  Not yet.  It’s too soon.” Wanda’s tone hardened as she dished pasta into her bowl.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.  “I want to meet them, Wanda.  You talk about them so much that I feel like I practically know them!  Besides, I think Tommy needs to have his butt whooped at Mario Kart so he’ll stop being a dick to Billy about it.”

Wanda laughed as she sat down at the table, shaking her head.  It had only been two months since the two of you made your relationship official and neither of you were interested in rushing things, Wanda not wanting to introduce a new man into the boys’ lives so soon and you because this was your first real relationship since high school.  Sure, you dated a girl for a few months your junior year of high school and went out on some random dates throughout college, but you’d never had anything this serious before.  While you enjoyed spending time with Wanda, there was still a lot you’d never experienced and you didn’t want to rush in too fast.

“I know.  You’ll meet them, I promise.  I plan on keeping you around, mister.  We’re a package deal.”  She took a bite of the pasta, blowing on it to cool it off before putting a forkful in her mouth.  “You know, that’s actually not half bad.”

“Coming from you, that’s quite the compliment.”  Wanda giggled as she helped herself to another bite.

You offered to take the bowl from Wanda once she was done eating, cleaning up and packing away the leftovers as she went to the living room to pick out a show for the two of you to watch.

“Dick Van Dyke again?  Wanda, have you watched any shows from this century?” you asked only half-jokingly as you plopped down on the sofa next to her.

“I need something mindless after work tonight.  And it’s my house so if you don’t like it-”

“Hey, what’s fine with you is fine with me.”  You put your hands up defensively.

“And I wanna be the big spoon, too.”  She reached her arms out to you, practically begging to snuggle you as she laid on the couch.  You chuckled as you curled up into her chest.  As much as you loved holding Wanda, it was nice being held for a change.  She brought you an immense sense of comfort as she wrapped her arms around you and kissed the top of your head.

The titles rolled by, the screen flashing with black and white images.  You felt Wanda’s body soften up as she immersed herself into the distraction of the sitcom world, the stress of the day melting off her.  Try as you might to concentrate on the show, you were distracted.  Wanda’s body was intoxicating.  Once you got a taste of it you didn’t want to stop.  Snuggling up against her, feeling the way her chest rose and fell with each breath and the way her heart beat up against it, made you want to lose yourself in her presence.  So as she stared at the screen, you began to tease your fingers up and down her thigh.

“Can I help you?” she laughed as she felt your hand moving on her leg.

“Maybe…” You looked up into her stunning green eyes, her pupils dilating as you trailed your fingers higher up her leg.  You could feel her heart pounding wildly in her chest as she looked down at you.  Using her thigh to push yourself up, you turned your body so that you were face to face with her, your lips mere inches from each other.  As you stared into each other’s eyes, both of you waiting to see who would make the first move, you reached up to cup her face with your hands before leaning in to kiss her.

Kissing Wanda was a religious experience.  Her lips were heavenly, softer than anything you’d ever experienced.  You loved the way she practically melted into you when you captured your lips in hers.  These kisses were soft and sweet.  Her lips were filled with a tenderness that made you weak at the knees.  You felt her smile into you as you explored her, gently nibbling on her bottom lip as you helped her lean back into the pillow.  The TV show was long forgotten as Wanda wrapped her arms around you and pulled you close on top of her.  

“Mmmm I missed this,” she sighed as you kissed your way down her jaw to her neck.  You bit down on a sensitive spot, drawing a moan from her as you licked and sucked over the tender point and marked her as yours.  “What are the boys going to think when they see I’ve got a hickey on my neck?”

“That you’re all mine,” you answered.  “All mine.”  You kissed your way back up her neck, working your way to her lips as you took them greedily.  These kisses were different.  They were more passionate, more intense.  You ran your hands up and down Wanda’s back, eventually running them up under her shirt.

“Y/N,” she breathed as she panted for breath.  You barely gave her a second to recover before slamming your lips against hers, brushing your tongue over her bottom lip, begging for permission to explore her mouth.  She enthusiastically obliged, her tongue crashing into yours as you explored each other deeply for the first time.  As you continued to kiss her, Wanda’s hands roamed from your back to your front, trailing down your stomach until they came to your belt.  The feeling of your buckle being undone snapped you back to reality as you abruptly broke away from her.

“Woah, stop, stop,” you said.  Suddenly everything felt too hot and too fast and too much all at the same time.  

Wanda’s eyes grew worried with concern, her brow furrowing as she looked up at you.  “What’s wrong?”

You gulped nervously as you looked down at her, sitting back on your heels to put space between the two of you.  “Nothing.  It’s…nothing, I’m fine.  Sorry.”

“Sweetheart, something’s wrong.  Did I do something?”

“No.  It’s…I, Christ this is so stupid, I’m a…I’ve nev-I’ve never had sex before,” you blurted.  You felt the heat rising in your face as you blushed a deep shade of red.  Wanda’s eyes widened at your revelation.  “I mean I got a one-off handjob from my high school girlfriend when I was sixteen, but that’s it.”

“Oh.” Wanda’s voice was small.  You couldn’t tell what she was thinking exactly as she stared at you.  Her head cocked to the side, a signature sign that she was deep in thought.  

“Sorry.  Umm, you know what?  I’ll just-I’ll just go.  Just forget everything I said, okay?”  You had never felt so humiliated before.  There was no way you could do anything with Wanda now.  You could barely look her in the eye with how embarrassed you felt.

“Hey,” she said, reaching out to grab your hand.  “It’s okay.  We can wait until you’re ready.  I’ll never make you do anything you don’t want to do.  Ever.  I’m not mad or anything.”

“No I want to, I really want to.  I’m just nervous.  I don’t want it to be bad for you.”

Wanda flashed the smile that made you fall even harder for her.  “It’s okay to be nervous.  I haven’t slept with anyone since Vision left so yeah, I’m nervous, too.”

“I, umm, I didn’t bring a condom,” you sheepishly admitted.

“I’ve got some upstairs.”  You let out a small chuckle.  “What?”

“Nothing.  It’s just funny imagining you at the store with your reading glasses on trying to read the descriptions on all of the boxes.”

Wanda rolled her eyes as she sat up.  “You’re adorable.  Now come on, let’s go upstairs.  I am not letting you lose your virginity on this sofa.”

Wanda practically dragged you up to her bedroom and shut the door behind you.  Your heart skipped a beat as you heard the lock click into place.  “Come on,” she whispered as she pulled you to the bed.  “We can do whatever you want.”  Your mouth felt like it was filled with cotton as endless possibilities of what you and Wanda could do together flashed through your brain.  You tried to speak, but nothing came out.  “Can I take your clothes off?”  You nodded enthusiastically.  “Words, sweetheart.  I need you to say it for me.”

“Fuck yes,” you breathed as you pulled your shirt up and off.  She shook her head as her hands reached for your belt.  You grabbed her face and kissed her, pulling her close as you felt your jeans get the slightest bit looser.  As she unzipped them, she made sure to run her hand over your bulge, palming it through your jeans.  You moaned into her mouth at the throbbing sensation that was building in your pants.  

“Nice undies,” she teased.  Horrified, you realized that you were wearing your Pikachu boxer briefs.

“I’m gonna be completely honest, Wanda.  I was not anticipating you seeing me in my underwear tonight.”

“They’re cute, but I think they’ll look cuter on the floor.”  She hooked her thumbs around the waistband, dropping to the floor as she dragged them down your legs.  Your erection, absolutely throbbing, sprang to attention as it was freed from the confines of your clothes.  Standing there completely naked, you suddenly felt the need to cover up.  As Wanda looked up at you from her knees, she sensed your trepidation.  “Do you want to keep going?”

“Yeah, j-just give me a second.”

“Lie down on the bed, okay?  I’ve got an idea.”  You had no idea what Wanda was thinking as you crawled onto the bed.  As you did that, she began undressing herself.

“What are-?”

“Oh look, we’re both naked,” she smirked, tossing her panties behind her.  Your jaw dropped as you saw her naked for the first time.  The sight of her bare breasts in front of you was mesmerizing, as was the rest of her body.  She was a goddess.

“Wow.  Wanda, wow.  You’re gorgeous, baby.”  Wanda blushed a deep crimson as she crawled onto the bed next to you.  

“You’re not so bad yourself, handsome,” she teased.  “Can I touch you?”

“Yeah,” you gulped.  Slowly, Wanda trailed her hand down from your chest down to your stomach and then to your cock, wrapping a loose grip around it.  “Oh fuck,” you groaned.  The sensation of her hand moving up and down your shaft was familiar: you’d jacked off to the thought of her countless times.  But the feeling of someone else’s hand doing it was unreal.

“Somebody’s sensitive.”  Your cock twitched under Wanda’s ministrations, precum leaking from your tip as she used it to lube you up.

“Christ, just blow me already,” you groaned as you threw your head back into the pillow.  The words came from your mouth absentmindedly.  They were crude and vulgar.  In your pleasure-filled haze, you weren’t totally aware of what you were saying.  The second you realized your ask, your face flushed red with embarrassment.  Wanda’s hand stopped abruptly as she looked down at you half-amused.  

“Alright,” she smirked.  Before you knew what was happening Wanda crawled to the other side of the bed, brushing her hair out of her face as she lowered her head.

The feeling of Wanda’s mouth enveloping the entirety of your cock immediately tore a loud groan from your chest.   She swirled her tongue over your head, her hand wrapping around the base of your cock.  Her cheeks hollowed as her head bobbed up and down.  You threw your head back into the pillow again, unable to watch the utterly sinful sight unfolding right in front of you.

“Holy shit,” you gasped.  Cherry red lips closed softly around your head, sucking as she reached down to squeeze your balls.  For a woman who hadn’t been with another man since her husband left, you couldn’t tell that she was out of practice.  Wanda smiled as you whined, your dick hitting the back of her throat.  Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes as she gagged on your length.  It was undoubtedly the hottest thing you’d ever seen in your entire life.

Your pulse quickened as the ache in your groin grew stronger with every little movement.  The pleasure was dizzying, the familiar coil in your belly growing tighter by the second.  As Wanda worked wonders with her mouth, your body became unrestrained.  You grabbed the back of her head, pulling her down as you thrust your hips into her face.  Drool dripped down your cock as you stuffed your length deep into Wanda’s mouth.  Her eyes screwed shut as she choked and gagged.  You moaned in response, your fingers kneading her fiery red hair.

“Wanda, I’m gonna cum,” you croaked as you felt a blissful warmth spread over your body.  She smirked against your cock as your hips bucked faster.  Her tongue swirled and lapped over every single inch as she enthusiastically massaged the parts left exposed.  Seconds later the coil snapped and your body exploded in ecstasy.  Strands of hot cum shot down Wanda’s throat, which she swallowed greedily.  No drop was left wasted as she released your with a pop, fine strands of saliva and cum connecting her to you.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her chest heaving as she struggled to regain her breath.  You closed your eyes as you watched galaxies and explosions appear under your closed lids.  

“Y/N?” You opened your eyes and Wanda’s face was hovering above yours.  

“Yeah?”

“You good?”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I regain feeling in my legs,” you joked as you looked up into those adorable emerald eyes.  The beamed as she gazed down at you, caressing your flushed cheek with her soft hand.

“You’re adorable,” she cooed, planting a kiss on your forehead.  “I take it that was better than that handjob from your high school girlfriend?”

“Fuck yes,” you groaned.  Wanda chuckled as she kissed you, her soft lips full of passion and tenderness against your own.

“What now, lover boy?” she teased.

“I wanna taste you,” you breathed, pulling her head to yours before you kissed her softly.  “All of you.”

“Mmmm I like the sound of that,” Wanda giggled against your lips.  She rolled the two of you over, landing on her back as you let the weight of your body rest atop her.  

Your lips collided again and again as the anticipation of what was to come thrummed deep in your soul.  Wanda’s breath was shaky against your own as you slowly teased a hand down her body before resting it in the heat between her legs.

“Tell me what you want,” you whispered, your breath hot against her ear.  Her eyes fixed on nothing on the ceiling, she nodded absentmindedly and reached her hand down to cover yours.  Her long svelte fingers pushed yours over her already swollen clit, circling them gently over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Like that,” she croaked.  You continued the motion as she released you.  Soft whimpers escaped her lips as you focused on circling her clit.  She grabbed onto your biceps, digging her nails into your flesh while you kissed her neck.  “Oh baby that’s it,” she gasped.  “Just a little more pressure and-”  Wanda’s breath hitched as you pushed on her clit.  As you circled it, you heard the lewd sounds of her wetness teasing just how aroused she was.

“Fuck, Wanda.  You’re so wet.”  She groaned as you teased your hand lower, rubbing your fingers through her swollen lips and teasing her slit.

“I want your mouth,” she begged as she grabbed your head and pushed it down your body.  You crawled down her body, kissing every inch of her exposed torso as you slunk down to her pelvis.  She squirmed as you planted hot open mouth kisses over her exposed flesh.  Pressing her thighs apart, you could feel the heat radiating from between them.  

“Wanda, what-?”

“Whatever you want.”  Her voice was dripping with arousal.  You weren’t quite sure where to start as you stared down at her glistening cunt.  Taking a deep breath, you lowered your mouth to her clit.  Your lips encircled the bulbous spot, sucking and licking in a manner similar to the way she sucked your cock.  The loud groan that escaped her lips made you think you were doing something right.  Wanda’s hips bucked against your face as you continued your alternating licking and sucking on her most sensitive spot.

Pushing her thighs down further, you lowered your head, licking a stripe from her clit all the way down her slit.  Her arousal coated your tongue and you found yourself getting drunk on the taste of her.  You teased her slit with your tongue, pressing it as far inside her as you could.

“Shit,” she groaned, grabbing your head and pushing it hard into her pelvis.  You smiled as you lapped at her.  The activity that once filled you with anxiety and hesitation now filled you with a sense of pride as you brought Wanda closer and closer to her orgasm.  “Need something inside,” she mumbled.  Kissing your way back to her clit, you tentatively inserted a finger inside her needy cunt.  She shuddered at the sudden intrusion.  You slowly began thrusting your hand in and out of her tight hole.  “Not like that,” she suddenly grabbed your hand as you pulled out.

“Am I hurting you?” Fear stopped you dead in your tracks as you looked up at Wanda with concern.

“Just curl your fingers, don’t thrust, keep going, I’m so close, baby.”  Wanda was beside herself with pleasure, her body closer to the edge.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, just fuck me.”  Wanda shoved your head back down.  You went right to work, rolling her clit around with your tongue as you curled your finger inside.  Her walls tightened around you, making it difficult to move within her.  

“I’m cumming.  Oh, I’m cumming!” Wanda gasped as you felt her walls spasm around your hand.  Her body shook as wave after wave of ecstasy overtook every inch of her.  Loud moans escaped her lips as her eyes screwed shut, her mouth gaping open with unspeakable pleasure.  

As Wanda’s spasms calmed, you pulled out of her.  Her walls squeezed around nothing as it adjusted to the sudden lack of intrusion.  Wanda was flat on her back, completely blissed out at the first orgasm she received at the hands of another person in a very long time.  Masturbation only did so much for her.  The level of intimacy and trust required for someone to bring her to such levels of ecstasy was something on a completely different level.

“Wanda?  Are you okay, babe?”  Her eyes were glazed over as she needed, her hands tracing through your hair.

“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” 

“I’ll take that as a complement,” you joked before kissing her.  You stared down at her, at the face of the woman you were slowly falling in love with, and wanted nothing more than to make her feel so unbelievably loved.  The face that gazed back up at you mirrored the love and adoration that you felt for her.  For the first time in a very long time, you were grateful for the fact that your first time was with someone who meant so much to you.

“Do you want to keep going?” Wanda whispered, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Mmhmm.  Do you?”  She nodded.  “Where’d you put the condoms?” Wanda motioned to the nightstand next to her.  You pulled the drawer open and grabbed one.  “Umm, I’ve never-”

“That’s okay.  Let me help.”  Wanda grabbed the small wrapper from you, tearing it open before grabbing your already erect cock.  Heart pounding and breath shaking, you watched her roll it down the length of your shaft.  “How’s that?”

“It feels weird, but it’s not too tight or anything like that.”

“Good.”  She readjusted herself on the bed, planting her feet on the bed and bending her knees to give you full access to her already dripping pussy.  “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” you nodded.  Positioning yourself over her, you lined your cock up with her entrance.  Your body trembled with anticipation, sweat beading on your forehead as you suddenly felt yourself overwhelmed with nervousness.  Wanda, once again sensing your hesitation, reached down and helped guide you inside her.

Wanda’s pussy was unfathomably warm, wet and tight.  It took all your concentration to not blow your load right then and there.  You groaned as you felt her squeeze gently around you.  “Fuck,” you moaned, burying your head in the crook of her neck.  

“Mmm, you feel so good, Y/N,” she sighed.  It took a moment to get yourself together, but once you did you began to slowly thrust yourself in and out.  Gasps and moans filled the room as Wanda’s drenched cunt squelched with every roll of your hips.

“Wanda,” you groaned.  “Oh, Wanda.”

“Don’t stop, Y/N.  Please don’t stop.”  Wanda’s mewls spurred you on.  You pushed yourself up, leaning over her as you filled her up at a faster pace.  The bed groaned under your exertion.

“Baby, I don’t think I’m gonna last,” you gritted through clenched teeth.  The newness of being engulfed inside Wanda’s velvety walls was driving you to the end far faster than you wanted.

“That’s okay,” she breathed.  “Just keep going.  I want you to cum for me, sweetheart.”  

Wanda’s words ignited a primal fire inside you.  Wiping the sweat away from your forehead, you bore down on your efforts.  Your hips bucked wildly into Wanda.  She moaned as you buried yourself deep inside her, filling her cunt in all the right ways as she began rubbing circles around her swollen clit.  The bed creaked as you fucked her relentlessly.  The faster your hips moved, the hotter the fire in your belly burned until you realized you were dangerously close to the point of no return.

“I’m gonna-” You were interrupted by Wanda reaching her free hand up to your neck and pulling you down to capture your lips in hers.  As she kissed you passionately, you tumbled over the edge again.  Her lips stifled your moan as you filled the condom with your seed.  The feeling of your erection throbbing inside her, coupled with her hand on her clit, sent Wanda over the edge as she practically screamed through her orgasm.  Her walls squeezed you tightly.  You were practically seeing stars.

“Oh fuck.  Wanda.  Fuck, oh fuck.  Oh God, Wanda,” you panted as the aftershocks of your orgasm worked their way through your body.  Your pants turned into laughs as she began laughing with you.

“Was that okay?” Wanda asked with a chuckle.

“Okay?  I don’t think ‘okay’ is the word I used to describe what just happened.”

“You have a better word, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know.  All I know is that I love you,” you mumbled absentmindedly as you collapsed onto her sweaty body.

“...What?”

“I…sorry, is it too soon?  Did I just make this weird?”  Wanda answered with a searing kiss, the corners of her mouth curved upward as she grabbed your face.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” she sheepishly admitted, her face flushing bright crimson.  

“God, I love you, Wanda.  I love you so much.”  Your last sentence was interrupted with kisses between every word.

“I love you, too, Y/N.  Don’t ever let me go.” 

[joelslegalwhre]

Hey anon! I love the idea, thanks for your request &lt;3

Just us

pairing ⁀➷ henry cavill x fem!reader

word count ⁀➷ 2.2k

summary ⁀➷ up in the ask

warnings ⁀➷ age gap (reader is in early 20’s, henry is 38), pure fluff, drunk Henry (but not in a bad way?), H/F means Henry's Friend, paparazzi

a/n ⁀➷ thanks for the request anon this was a blast to write!

Since an anon pointed this out to me; („paparazzi get called and scheduled“) they can also get their information about the whereabouts of a celeb from bartenders, spotters, etc… Please remember that I write fiction and not everything is like real life 100% of the time 🫶

Here’s my h.c. playlist

🥤my kofi if you’d like to leave a tip🩷

The night was truly not as you would have imagined it to be.

„Henry... c'mon bear, let's go home." you said, trying to get him off the barstool.

„You look beautiful.“ He slurred in your ear.

Goosebumps immediately spread over your entire body. You quickly kissed the corner of his lips, "Thanks. You look terribly handsome though, even drunk.“ you whispered with a chuckle, „That should be illegal."

His hands wandered to your hips, his fingers tracing shapes all the way up to your bra.

Henry was drunk as hell, and you had to get him home now before he did something in public, that he would regret later.

Luckily, one of his mates had your number and texted you about half an hour ago.

H/F: Hey Y/N can you please pick Henry up? We might have had a little too much of…. everything...

You: I'm on my way

You instantly hoped that there would be no press around.

You couldn't use paparazzi now, but they kind of always knew where Henry was. At any time of the day… or night.

Henry's friend had sent you the address of the club right after your last message.

Usually Henry wasn't someone who partied much. You spent your weekends together on the couch, walking Kal, or cooking together. But who never went out partying on a weekend?

"Kal?" you peeked through the door into the living room. His head lifted from his big dog bed, and he looked at you, panting.

"I'm going to pick up Daddy, will you watch the house while I'm gone?" Excitedly, he wagged his tail when he trotted to you as if confirming it to you to watch out. Lovingly, you petted him behind his ears. "I won't be gone for long."

"Alright." You muttered to yourself as the car came to a hold. You thanked the cab driver who would wait for you, and got out at the back entrance of the club. You wouldn't have found a parking space in front of the club by car, so the cab was clearly the better option.

Fortunately, it wasn't very busy, and you couldn't see any paparazzi. You took your ID out of your pocket and immediately received a few strange looks from the security guards. Sure, probably very few people came here in jeans, a hoodie and sneakers.

The club was loud and sweaty, and you could feel the bass of the music pulse through your body.

Just then you realized that you didn't know where they were, and the club was quite big, so you texted Henry's friend again.

You: I'm here, where are you?

H/F: At the bar, you have to get to the back of the club

You: Thanks

Making your way through the crowd, you began to sweat in your hoodie but couldn't take it off unless you wanted to walk around in only your bra, which you obviously didn't. You saw them just a moment later, all of them looking rather drunk. A chuckle left your lips when you saw Henry on a bar stool, resting his elbow on the counter. He was clearly drunk as hell. You wondered how they managed not to get the attention of the whole club by now, usually wherever Henry went the people recognized him. Right when you thought that, two girls walked up to them.

Henry didn't even see them, too interested to get the bartender's attention for another drink. His friends did though, just for the two girls to tap Henry's shoulder and flash him a flirty smile. He turned around by the sudden touch and drew his brows together. You couldn't hear what they were saying, but you grinned when he pursed his lips, shaking his head with raised brows.

He removed the girl's hand off of his arm, and his friends suppressed a laugh.

Just then, you finally reached them and immediately caught Henry's attention. „Hi, boys.“ you greeted his friends, and immediately got smiles and waving hands back.

„Excuse me, if you'd be so nice…“ You dryly said and squeezed past the girls, „l'm going to get this drunk mountain of a man home.“

„And who are you?" One of them asked with a deprecating look, eyeing you up and down.

„Mine." Henry answered for you. He grabbed the hem of your hoodie and pulled you to his chest. „Hey baby.” He purred as he put his big hands on your cheeks and kissed you.

You could taste the alcohol on his lips but didn't mind one bit. His curls were tousled, and you wanted to run your hands through them, to make them even messier. And as much as you wanted to keep kissing him, you broke away from him.

Henry still had his hands on your cheeks.

Your hands went to his and gently withdrew them from your cheeks. "You need a bed." you laughed lightly.

"Only if you are part of the bed too." He grinned and you shook your head, giggling. "Not today, Cavill."

Henry grimaced, „C'mon baby…..please".

„How old are you anyway?" one of them interrupted the two of you. „Yeah, are you even allowed into a club?" the two girls were still giving you deprecating looks,

„I'm old enough, thanks for your concern." you tried your best to sound as nice as you could.

„Henry... c'mon bear, let's go home." you said, trying to get him off the barstool.

„You look beautiful." He slurred in your ear. Goosebumps immediately spread over your entire body.

You quickly kissed the corner of his lips, "Thanks. You look terribly handsome though, even drunk.“ you whispered with a chuckle, „That should be illegal."

His hands wandered to your hips, his fingers tracing shapes all the way up to your bra. „Stop that." you lightly chuckled. Your hands softly grabbed his and removed them from your sides. „You can do that at home. When you're sober." you whispered into his ear, knowing damn right what it would do to him.

You turned to Henry's friend who had texted you, „Thank you." you chuckled, and he just raised his glass with a smile and nodded.

„Alright, let's go." you chuckled and took Henry's large hand. „Night, boys.

"They all gave an almost harmonic, and drunken, "Ciao, y/n", which made you laugh.

On your way out, you could still feel the gazes of the two girls on your back.

The same security guards that eyed you for your unusual choice of clothes when you entered the club, were now giving you the same looks. Not because of your clothes, though. You and Henry's hands were intertwined as you two exited the club, and he continued whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

You knew that look, it wasn't the „Omg, look that's Henry Cavill!“ , but rather the „She must at least be 15 years younger than him." look.

And even though there were almost 17 years between you and Henry, you looked even younger than you really were. Something the press absolutely loved, of course.

The moment you and Henry walked out of the club, you were greeted by blinding lights, dozens of shouting paparazzi.

Henry's grip on your hand tightened and no matter how drunk he was, he immediately switched to being your protector.

Almost everyone with a camera shouted his name, the few without were shouting various questions;

„How much younger is she?"

„Is this your girlfriend, Henry?"

„Who is she?"

„What's the name of the girl, Henry?"

And so much more that got lost in all the voices and shouting.

Henry let go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulder, protecting you from the paparazzi. „Give us some space, goddamn." you could hear how he tried not to sound as drunk as he really was. And you loved him even more for doing his best to keep you safe even when he wasn't feeling his best.

He pressed you against his chest and continued mumbling complaints.

Normally Henry was one of the most polite celebrities you knew, he smiled and gave them answers most of the time, but today they were definitely crossing a line.

He didn't stop walking, nor taking his arm from your shoulder when he grabbed the hood on your hoodie and pulled it down to shelter your face from them. In all the hectic and flashlights, you totally forgot that you could do that. Which once more showed that Henry might have been drunk, but he was still your protector, no matter what.

You helped him by guiding the way to the cab, still waiting for you outside the club. The paparazzi were following you until both of you got in, the car door shutting out their questions and the sounds of clicking cameras. „Fuck, I'm sorry, peaches."

„It’s fine, Hen. Don’t worry about it.“

Last night when you had made it home, Kal was impatiently waiting for you two. Whenever you didn't come home with Henry, which got rarer with each week, he got quite confused why his new mommy wasn't coming home with his dad.

Who was absolutely wasted right now. When he hit the soft bed, a moan left his mouth. „Wait a second before you fall asleep." you giggled, „l'll be right back." With Kal by your side, you went downstairs into the kitchen, getting Henry a glass of water and ibuprofen.

„Look at him, Kal." the dog looked at his dad and back up to you. A snort escaped your mouth. The mattress sank down next to Henry. „Babe... Hen." you lightly caressed his cheek. „It's better to take them now."

His eyes opened only so much to see you, he groaned but took the glass and the pill out of your hand.

You heard the door to the living room open and close, your head turning in Henry's direction. He blinked a few times, probably because the sun was still brightly illuminating the room. You looked up at him from were you were sitting on the floor, scratching Kal behind his ears, while Henry approached you. „Morning, bear." you smiled at him.

„Good morning, peaches." The sight of you and Kal together in his home was one of the things Henry loved the most. Thus, why he always wanted you to stay at his, so much so that it wouldn't take him much longer to ask you to move out of your own apartment.

He sat down on the couch behind you and patted his broad tights. He hugged your waist as you snuggled up to him, one leg draped over his thigh. „Thanks for the painkillers." he mumbled into your hair, breathing in the scent.

They smelled like peaches, and more so like home. „lt's an old trick my cousin told me about. The headaches are much less painful if you take them at night first and then again in the morning." you grinned at him. Henry kissed your forehead, keeping his lips there a little longer.

„l love you." he whispered.

„I love you too." your hands rested on his muscular chest. You just laid there for some time, Kal sleeping on his dog pillow, and listening to the birds singing outside.

„I bet the pictures are everywhere by now.”

You raised your head to look at him. A heavy breath escaped your lungs and Henry stroked your hair.

„Let them talk." you said.

„Who are they to tell us what to do and whom to date? Martin Freeman is married to Rachel Mariam, and she is 21 years younger than him." you played with Henry's fingers, „it's not like l'm underage.” Henry chuckled at your comparison.

„But you know what you are?" Henry asked with a soft smile. You propped yourself up on his chest, „What?"

„You are the woman I love. You are the only one I will ever love and the one I want to call the mother of my children. You," he stopped and looked at you with a look of pure love, „You're all I want."

With that, he had taken all the air from your lungs. Your mouth was slightly open and tears began to run down your cheeks.

"Oh baby, don't cry." Henry grinned as he wiped the tears from your cheeks.

"How am I not supposed to cry?" you sniffled. "That was the most beautiful thing I've ever been told. And all those things, everything, I want all those things with you and only you."

As if Kal had been waiting for his moment, he put his head on Henry's thigh, looking at both of you. You giggled as you gently stroked his snout. "You too, Kal."

“l'm glad they know." Henry whispered to your hairline.

„Me too."

He wrapped his hands around you and pressed you back against his chest. His warmth wrapped around you like a blanket, and slowly your eyes closed.

Henry took out his phone to take a picture of the three of you, Kal on his pillow, you asleep on his chest. One of your hands rested on his torso while the other was resting under your head. He smiled at the picture. The sun was still shining into the room, painting everything in a golden light.

With the caption „Just us" he posted the picture. Confirming it to the whole world.

༄ Don't copy, translate or republish any of my works on any app or other platform please. I only post my work on Tumblr and Wattpad.

Reposts are always appreciated, they really make my day🧡

[emotionallyattachednerd]

Pet Play | TP Predaking x f!human reader | NSFW 18+

Word count: 1600+

Warnings: Smut ( oral ), size difference and beast robot on human. NSFW 18+.

Notes: It's been a busy week! I felt the need for something more tender towards this human for Predaking. The reader does have a dragon tattoo on her shoulder, just pointing that out. Enjoy. 🥰

☕ Coffee

You're the kind of person that is off with the fairies quite often, day dreaming and creating scenarios in your mind of where you would like to be. People thought it strange, even your family and friends had told you to grow up, but you didn't see the point in doing that because it would mean you would be unhappy.

They want you happy, right?

Your friends invited you on a camping trip for the weekend, and what was supposed to be a great time didn't turn out like that for you. Once again you were daydreaming, talking to yourself, only for your friends for some reason to grow frustrated with you, saying it's not normal and why you have to behave so weird.

It breaks your heart and you storm out of camp needing time to yourself. You cry and stare at the midnight sky before deciding it's not worth staying anymore. Your so call friends try to stop you, saying they were sorry, but you don't listen and head back to your car.

You're just different from everyone else, and you didn't want to change.

Things though were about to change very dramatically for you though, and while you headed to your car you find yourself suddenly wrapped in large sharp talons and a giant beast that lets out a roar that cuts through the air. Your instinct reaction is to scream, right before darkness clouds you.

That's how you're here now, trapped with this giant metal beast that had kidnapped you, like a dragon kidnapping a princess. Your arm is bruised because you have been pinching yourself so much since your time here just to try and wake yourself up, but you still remain with the beast.

He hasn't hurt you, and you were too scared to try and escape. That was at the beginning. As time moved on you adjusted to the change, had time to think and even learn about the place you were in. You learned his name was Predaking, but only from another who called himself Shockwave, creepy guy, and even called you Predaking's new pet. So guess that's what you were.

Turns out robot aliens were real. You didn't see them often, being cooped up with Predaking, and you feel yourself adjusting to him and wanting to be with him. Sure, you miss home, but you try not to let that get to you.

What you found most curious was he had a strong fascination with your dragon tattoo on your shoulder, always nuzzling the area gently and letting out purrs, which you thought at first was delight but slowly started to reconsider that it might be sadness.

You sympathise with him. Perhaps he was lonely?

It's just like any other day when you wake up from a not needed nap to the sound of Predaking purring, vibrations sending shivers through it, a turmoil you weren't sure about, but let it happen as its soothing.

"Hey Predaking." You whisper fondly, you hand tenderly stroking one of his barbs against his muzzle. "You board? Yeah...I get that."

His nuzzling continues, as does the sounds he makes against you. It feels oddly nice, and you smile through a soft moan that turns into a giggle as he licks her side. "H-hey, that tickles."

Your giggling seems to peak his interest and glides his glossa against your side again, making another giggle sound from you, and another more rowdy. All you can do is wiggle and laugh against his barbs and glossa, surprisingly gentle, tickling your skin under your shirt.

"P-Predaking, please!"

However, this changes when you feel his glossa move lower against your thigh, riding under your skirt, and causing you to gasp from the strange sensation and freeze.

"Predaking?" You whisper his name, a little scared by what he was doing, but you can't stop your cheeks from warming up, feeling that little bit of goodness from the warm contact he gives.

His curiosity grows as he explores more, gliding more of his glossa against your inner thigh before a scent catches him, and drags it up against your panties than. You gasp sharply from the contact but you don't stop him, eyes wide as you stare at the grey ceiling.

Seeing you show no attempt to stop him he continues at the same area again, a purred moan leaving him as he continues this, liking your reactions and scent you are giving him.

By this point your panties are soaked, moist with your fluids and his own wetness. Your breath hitches as something jolts in you, soft mewls whimpering from your lips before you spread your legs more for him.

Your hands reach down, petting his helm and rolling your hips gently under his glossa that continues to press against your covered core. There's a part in your brain that's screaming that this was wrong, but you don't give a shit, you wanted more, a growing greed.

Shuffling yourself you tug down your panties from under your skirt and kick them away as his amber optics watch you, before going back in, and you have to cover your mouth to try and muffle a shout of arousal.

His glossa was so thick as it runs against your core and across your clit, juices flowing out more as you feel him lap at you as if he was hungry, eager for more.

Your soft moans increase as your eyes flutter close, body breaking out in goosebumps as your nipples perk through your top. Your hands keep at his large helm, praising him as he continues.

"Good boy, good boy. Holy shit...feels so good." Your voice trembles through the burning bliss boiling in you. His heated muzzle adds to the desire you are craving, bards tickling your legs but it wasn't uncomfortable.

Predaking is liking this, your reactions and your taste, like one of his own in heat and soaking juices. As his broad glossa flicks across your lips and clit, he decides to go for more, and that's when he starts to probe your core with the tip of his glossa.

A startled gasp erupts as you feel the hot tip press directly against your entrance, trying to push in, but the thickness delays this, before you feel yourself suddenly start to stretch as his glossa manages to push in.

"Fuck!" You can't help but mewl out loudly as you feel the hotness invade, slowly inching further into your depths. He's so thick and warm, the wetness providing better gliding.

Perhaps most beasts would just follow their instinct and devour right away, but not Predaking, he took his time with you, slowly and savouring every second possible.

His glossa reaches further in your channel, past your cervix, before reaching your uterus, causing an intense cry to choke from you as the pleasure continues to grow. Never have you felt like this before, and you don't want it to ever end.

He stops and you feel so full as his broad long glossa fills you to the brim and presses up against your stomach causing a bump to form. His purrs continue to vibrate and pulse through you, interacting; he was liking this just as much as you are.

You feel him move back out from your channel, causing a pout to sound from you are you loose the fullness, only to be filled again, and he starts to fuck you slowly with his glossa.

"Fucking hell....P-Predaking....so big, so good!" In that moment you don't care if anyone heard you, all that mattered was the arousal you were drowning in and letting yourself go.

Predaking is very delighted by your taste, and your reactions were just perfect for him. He continues to move back and forth against your channel, invading every inch of you and pushing further up into your uterus to feel everything possible.

While his glossa rolls back and forth into you, your legs curl up onto his large barbs against his muzzle to hang them there and grant him more access, and this causes his glossa to drive deeper into you, moana singing from your throat as you embrace the alluring pleasure.

Your hands move against you, moving your shirt up over your breasts to play with your nipples while the other moves down to rub at your clit in circular motions, running up over your stomach to feel just how much his glossa fills you. You're on fire!

"Yes, yes!" You sob in delight, hips arching and rolling with his movements. "Oh god!" You're humping his glossa by this point.

He starts to move fast earning more mewls from you, fucking you deeply and as much as your body would allow as more juices flood from you, wet sounds filling your ears as some fluids drip onto the ground below you. As much as you wanted this to last, you knew you were about to cum hard.

"Predaking, shit, so close, I feel it!" Clenching yourself around his thrusting glossa you tighten your legs against his barbs as your toes curl, seconds before a sudden burst shakes through you as you come apart through your collapsing orgasim.

He doesn't stop, moving himself more intensely and drinking your fluids before filling you so much and stopping, purring in delight as your stomach expands full of his long glossa.

Your body trembles as you welcome everything and pant heavily, hands moving to feel the bump and moaning loudly while your body twitches and pulses. It feels insanely good.

Slowly you feel his glossa move out, leaving you empty but well satisfied before he gently settles you back down with his muzzle against his pedes. You then feel him curl his tail around, nuzzling you gently as his purring soothes you.

"That was beautiful." You manage to say to him while petting his barbs tenderly. "Thank you, my king."

Predaking has every intention of making you his queen. You'll always be his.