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syoddeye · 24 hours ago

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cygnet, plucked | price x reader | part one part one cw: clothes stealing, forced transformation, coercion, familial abandonment, non-consensual touching/manhandling, restraints, masturbation mention, forced marriage forthcoming cw: dubcon, forced marriage, blood, mild injury a/n: reader is a swan shapeshifter. she retains some feathers as a human. based off this request, obvs influenced by swan-maidens, swan lake.

The first time he touches you, it's your wrist. A firm grip, just below the joint. Testing. Feeling the few feathers that sprout there, thumbing over the delicate, individual rachis.

You don't move. Don't speak. Torn between the instinct to flee and the paralyzing fear that you cannot. You watch his face. The thick brows, the kempt beard. The wrinkles that pull at his forehead when he frowns.

He is older than you—older than you look, at least. His arms are burly, heavy with muscle and hair, his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows like he means to get his hands dirty at any moment. Willing to. Blue eyes, your favorite color until this second, framed by crow's feet and speak to experience.

He looks at you with expectations you wish you didn't understand.

"Can't leave without this, can you?"

Your dress, spun from feathers and thread, drapes over his shoulder like a pelt. As if it were a thing he hunted, caught, claimed—that he did not simply steal it from the lakeshore when you were distracted. It doesn't belong there. It doesn't belong anywhere but on you.

"Come along. Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

Your sisters are gone. Fled, shrieking into the oncoming sunrise. You do not blame them. But it hurts.

The lake is still. Empty.

He lets the silence stretch, patient. He has all the time in the world. You don't.

You've watched human men before, from a safe distance, tucked among the reeds with your sisters. You've seen what they do when they think no one is watching. The way their faces shift at the sight of a woman. The way their hands reach, take, ruin.

You are a flightless bird, exposed. Not much of a swan. A sitting duck.

What choice do you have?

You follow.

You learn his name is John. That he has lived in this cabin for almost a year. That he built it himself. That he traps and skins, chops wood, salts fish, keeps a gun out of reach, hidden like your dress.

He tells you these things in pieces, the same way he feeds you. A bowl of soup set down in front of you with no ceremony. A tin cup of well water. A torn hunk of bread.

He talks a little, asks a little.

"Never seen anything like you," he says on the second night while you cower behind his chair by the fire. Where you slept after tearing out of his arms and screaming yourself hoarse. "Wish you'd talk to me. Awfully shy, aren't you?"

It galls you. Shy. As if he is not keeping you here, naked. Vulnerable. You ache for your wings. The sky.

You say nothing.

He exhales through his nose, it sounds like a laugh. "I suppose it's not an easy thing, coming from a life like yours."

You want to ask him what he thinks your life was. But you don't want to know what he would say.

He keeps the dress in a chest under his bed.

You desperately search and find it while he is outside splitting wood. The latch is loose. Stupidly unlocked. You lift the lid and your breath catches. There it is. Your feathers, your escape, the lifeline that made you you.

Your fingers graze the fabric. It should be soft, but it feels wrong, foreign and unfamiliar under your hands. You wonder if it is altered. If it will still fit. If it's too late, tainted by his handling.

"Looking for something?"

You slam the lid shut.

John stands in the doorway, hands on his hips. Forehead slick with sweat. The axe is outside, leaning against the chopping block, but his knife is at his belt.

He'd hurt you if you tried to run, maybe kill you. You are not so sure you want to die.

You don't answer.

He crosses the room. He doesn't look angry. He looks—wry. Pleased. Like he had been waiting for this.

He kneels beside you, one arm resting on his knee, and tilts his head. Reeking of pine and tobacco smoke. "That's not for you anymore, darling."

You swallow. This is the closest you've been since he entrapped you. "It is mine."

He nods, as if conceding the point. "And what would you do with it?" he asks. "Go back? To what?"

He reaches out, wiping away a single, hot tear. The fireplace pops, and you feel the warmth of his skin before you feel the roughness of his fingers. You hate it.

"The lake is still empty. They've not come back."

You think of your sisters. You think of the wind under your wings and streaming over your back, the open sky. You think of the sound of John reviving the hearth in the morning, how he dropped a blanket over you the first night, and said, You'll freeze like that.

Of course, he thinks nothing of the fact that he's the reason why you're naked. Blind to it or willfully ignorant.

"It's just you and me now. I'll take care of you, Shy."

Shy. That isn't your name. But you'll be dead before you give your real one to him. At least something will remain yours.

You look at him. He is a big man. Broad shoulders and palms. Thick, hairy arms and a barrel chest. You've seen the thing between his legs—he's made no efforts to hide himself or alter his routine with you hiding in the corner. He touches himself in the dark when he thinks you're sleeping.

He could break you easily. But he hasn't.

Not yet.

He brushes his knuckles over your cheek.

"Can't believe I found you," he says. "A pretty wife, fished from the lake. Or the sky, I suppose." He smiles, chuckling as if you're both in on the joke. "Mm. Wife." He presses his thumb to your bottom lip. "Yeah, like the sound of that. I'll make you a proper wife."

The way he says it is careful. Thoughtful. It is a promise, or a threat. You cannot tell which.

You look at the chest.

You look at John.

And you do not answer.

John returns at dusk, the door creaking wide to let in the last slant of daylight, and finds you trussed up where he left you. Your wrists are raw, delicate skin rubbed angry beneath the ropes that tightened with your struggling.

His shadow spills over you, and a sigh slips from him, edged with disappointment. He crouches. Fingers press into your skin, prodding where the rope bit deepest.

"Damn near hurt yourself, honey," he scolds, massaging the worst of the raw spots. He touches you in the way you've seen him care for his axe. Slow, reverent, making sure nothing is too damaged. Unusable.

A hand settles over the soft, feathery patch above your rump, fingers carding through it appreciatively, lingering before he unravels the last knot. He ignores your hissing.

The moment you're free, you scramble away, body aching. You tuck yourself behind his chair, peeking out with sharp, distrustful eyes. He lets you go, lets you think you've won some small mercy.

Then he turns his back, shaking out his coat, unpacking the sack he carried in, setting out each item on the table. Dull, practical offerings—salt, flour, needles, twine. Things for a life you don't want. Things for a home you will never call yours. And last, draped over his forearm, a dress. Mundane. Plain, homespun, the color of stone.

But you are distracted. Staring at the chest.

He only addresses your fixation when he's finished, and hauls it out from under the bed.

"Take a look."

You do. You don't want to, but you do. Your gaze flicks to him first, wary, waiting for the trap. You open it, and your stomach drops.

Your head snaps up, stuttering, eyes glossing over with hot, helpless rage.

His smile stretches, knowing. Then, he produces the last item from his trip and draws a bundle from the sack.

He explains it's the reason why he's later than expected. A special order that took hours and a bit of coin, but was well worth it. The seamstress did fine work.

Isn't it pretty?

See the little wing pattern she stitched in?

They're the only wings you'll have now.

He holds it out, delicate feathers and lace draping over his hand, the ruined remnants of your freedom reshaped into something grotesque. A wedding veil.

"Try it on for me, darling," he murmurs, offering it with one hand and adjusting himself with the other. "Let me see my bride."

#john price x reader #price x reader

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kateschi · 2 days ago

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two heroes, one marriage

synopsis: having stolen the hearts of fans with your teamwork and marraige, you and katsuki are called in for a joint interview.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

the magazine spread featuring you and katsuki as top pro heroes has the fanbase buzzing for weeks.

power couples aren’t uncommon, but the combination of your joint success and explosive chemistry—both literally and figuratively—makes you stand out.

when you both get asked to sit down for a joint interview, it’s hard to say no, especially when the public can’t seem to get enough of the dynamic between you and your husband.

sitting side by side on a plush sofa in the brightly lit studio, katsuki bristles with impatience, his jaw clenched as the interviewer introduces the segment.

it’s a familiar scene—his fiery personality on display for everyone to see—but you can feel the underlying tension, the way his body leans subtly closer to yours for grounding.

“so, the two of you are recognized as two of the top heroes of the year, and fans are really curious to know how you manage your lives as heroes and as a married couple,” the interviewer begins with a polite smile, clearly trying to ease into the conversation.

before you can respond, katsuki’s sharp voice cuts through the air.

“what the hell kinda question is that?” he snaps, eyes narrowing as he crosses his arms. “we do our damn jobs, and we go home. simple as that.”

you stifle a laugh, used to his bluntness by now. gently placing a hand on his arm, you intervene.

“what he means,” you say, casting a glance at katsuki that makes him grumble, “is that it’s about finding a rhythm. we both understand each other’s work, so we don’t get in each other’s way.”

katsuki grunts, his fiery gaze fixed on the interviewer. “she knows how to handle herself; doesn’t need me micromanaging her every move.”

despite his words, his hand finds its way to your lower back, fingers pressing into the fabric of your suit.

his touch is subtle, a quiet reassurance in the midst of his usual tough demeanor, but you know it means he’s keeping you close, watching out for you in his own way.

the interviewer picks up on the moment, nodding enthusiastically.

“it sounds like you both have a lot of trust in each other. how do you support one another with the high demands of your careers?”

katsuki clicks his tongue, clearly irritated. “support? we’re pros. we know what we’re doin’ out there.”

but just as you’re about to add something, he turns his head slightly to you, his voice dropping just enough for you to hear the change in tone.

“that doesn’t mean I won’t blow the ass off anyone who even thinks about messin’ with her,” he mutters.

you chuckle softly, nudging him with your elbow. “and here I thought I didn’t need you hovering around.”

“shut up,” he grumbles, but there’s no real bite in his tone.

his hand stays on your back, thumb brushing up and down in a way only you notice. “just ‘cause you’re strong doesn’t mean I’m not gonna make sure you’re alright.”

the interviewer, sensing an opportunity, leans in. “mister dynamight, you seem pretty protective of your wife. would you say that’s how you balance work and home life?”

katsuki’s eyes flash, his scowl deepening. “of course, I’m protective. you think I’d let her get caught up in any shit without me there to take care of it?”

his voice is sharp, but the way his arm shifts slightly to pull you closer is anything but harsh. “we don’t even need to talk about this crap.”

you smile to yourself, knowing this is as close to an open display of affection as katsuki will get in public.

his explosive personality never wavers, but there are cracks in his tough exterior that only you can see—moments where his concern for you bleeds through.

when the interviewer pushes on, asking about how your relationship works in the field, katsuki scoffs again.

“are you gonna keep asking this?” he snaps, before glancing at you, his hand tightening just slightly at your waist.

he sighs, trying to compose himself. “we work together ‘cause we’re a team, a hella good one at that.”

his little proud smirk makes your heart flutter. you decide to tease him a little. “oh, so you’re saying you can’t live without me on the battlefield, huh?”

his glare is immediate, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “don’t twist my words! I just—”

he cuts himself off, grumbling under his breath.

“you’re the one who keeps me in check, alright? so yeah, maybe i do rely on you. you’re my wife, and I am your husband. that’s natural! don’t make a big deal out of it.”

your husband huffs and looks away, which makes you giggle.

meanwhile, the interviewer chuckles nervously, clearly amused by the exchange. “it seems like you two have a really solid partnership.”

katsuki rolls his eyes. “damn right we do. we’ve got each other’s backs. that’s how it’s always been, and that’s how it’s gonna stay.”

as the interview wraps up, you feel katsuki’s hand slip from your waist, but his presence lingers, as solid and steady as ever.

once you’re off-camera and away from the prying eyes of the public, katsuki turns to you, his expression softening in that rare way that only you ever get to see.

“let’s get outta here,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “this interview crap’s a waste of time.”

you laugh, slipping your hand into his. “let's hope they don't cut you out like they did in highschool.”

“shut the hell up.” but despite his grumbling, he doesn’t let go of your hand, his grip tightening just slightly as you walk together out of the studio.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

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carnalcrows · 2 days ago

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SWEET AS SIN - THE SALESMAN

pairing: the salesman x ftm reader

synopsis: A humble baker’s life takes a dark turn when a mysterious customer becomes dangerously obsessed—until one night, he wakes up bound and trapped.

content warnings: 18+, dubcon (borderline noncon), reader has a vagina, gun play, squirting, drugging, kidnapping, dead dove do not eat.

word count: 1.0k

The first time you saw him, he was just another customer.

It had been a slow morning at your bakery, the scent of freshly baked bread filling the air as you wiped down the counter. The bell above the door jingled, and in walked a man in a crisp suit, his slicked-back hair perfectly in place. There was something oddly magnetic about him—the way he carried himself, the confidence in his steps, the way his piercing eyes scanned the shelves like he was hunting for something more than just bread.

“Morning,” you greeted, forcing yourself to break the silence. “What can I get you?”

He smiled—a sharp, calculated thing. “Something simple. A loaf, maybe.”

You nodded, wrapping up a warm loaf and placing it on the counter. He paid in cash, his fingers brushing against yours as he handed over the bills. His touch was cold, yet his grip lingered a second too long.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” he mused, glancing around as if memorizing every inch of the shop.

You shrugged. “Pays the bills.”

His eyes flickered back to you, something unreadable in them. “I’ll be seeing you again.”

It wasn’t a question.

And true to his word, he kept coming back.

Days turned into weeks, and the suited man became a regular.

He never gave his name. Never asked for anything specific. But each visit followed the same routine: a loaf of bread, a polite exchange, a lingering look that made your skin prickle with unease. He never overstayed his welcome, but his presence stayed with you long after he left.

There was something off about him. Something… unsettling.

And yet, you couldn’t deny the thrill that crept up your spine whenever he walked through your door.

One night, you closed up late. The streets were empty, the moon casting long shadows over the pavement as you locked the door behind you. You barely made it a few steps before a sharp prick stung your neck.

Your vision blurred. The world tilted.

And then—darkness.

When you woke up, the scent of flour and something metallic filled your nostrils. Your head throbbed, and as you tried to move, the unmistakable bite of rope burned against your wrists.

Panic shot through you. You were tied to a chair. The dim glow of candlelight flickered around the room, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

And then you saw him.

The salesman sat across from you, legs crossed, hands folded neatly in his lap. He was watching you, like a predator savoring the moment before the kill.

“Finally awake,” he murmured, tilting his head.

Your heart pounded. “What the fuck is this?”

He sighed, standing up and pacing toward you with slow, deliberate steps. “You must know by now. I’ve been watching you for weeks, admiring you… wanting you.”

Your breath hitched. The air was thick, suffocating.

“You kidnapped me.”

He hummed. “I prefer to think of it as… securing what’s mine.”

Your pulse roared in your ears as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to tilt your chin up. His touch was almost gentle—almost.

“You belong with me,” he murmured. “You just don’t see it yet.”

Your lips parted to curse him, to fight back, but then—click.

The cold press of metal pressed against the side of your temple.

A gun.

Your entire body went rigid.

“Shh,” he whispered, his other hand sliding to your throat, his grip firm but not tight. “No need to be scared.”

Scared? You were terrified.

But there was something worse—something worse than the fear, something you hated yourself for. The way his breath ghosted over your lips. The way his fingers pressed into your skin, possessive, demanding. The way the heat between you was suffocating, intoxicating.

And then—he kissed you.

It was slow at first, teasing, testing, his lips moving against yours with a dangerous kind of patience. The gun stayed at your temple, a silent warning, a reminder that he controlled everything. You wanted to recoil, to push him away, but your traitorous body betrayed you.

The kiss grew hungrier, his grip tightening as he deepened it. His teeth scraped against your lower lip, drawing a gasp from you.

He chuckled, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “See? You fit so perfectly against me.”

Your breath was ragged, your mind a whirlwind of fear and something worse.

He roughly tugged down your pants and boxers, leaving your lower half exposed– making you shudder.

“Hm? What’s this?” he questions while his glance moves to your puffy cunt– leaking and gleaming with the dim light of the room. This certainly wasn’t something that he had expected.

Before you could answer– you took a sharp intake of breath. He had slid the gun from the side of your temple all the way to your pelvis– resting near the clit. Your heartbeat thundered in your ear drums, the fear and tension muddling up your brain.

He dragged the gun to your cunt at a painstakingly slow pace, before pushing the tip in. You moaned, your head falling back against the chair. God you hoped the gun wasn’t loaded.

Without waiting for you to take in a breath, the man pushed the gun almost all the way up your hole, making your thighs involuntarily cave inwards. He used his other hand to push your thighs back apart, as he watched with fascination as the dark metal worked its way in and out of your sopping wet cunt.

This was so, so, wrong– but then why did it feel so good?

The hand that was holding your thighs apart made its way to your clit– rubbing circles around the overstimulated bud. You writhed in the rope’s grasp– the pleasure being way too much

Soon– you felt your orgasm (whether you wanted it to happen or not), wash over you like a raging stream. You screamed as you practically squirted your release all over the man’s hand and his gun.

The man adjusted his posture before sliding the gun out of your cunt and pressing it back to your forehead, before bringing his other hand back to your face– pulling you in for another kiss.

“You’re mine now,” he murmured, trailing his lips down your jaw. “And I take care of what’s mine.”

The gun pressed just a little harder.

And deep down, you knew—there was no escaping him.

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roosterforme · 3 days ago

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Aim for the Sky Part 35 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You're conflicted by your own words, unsure if you can stay away from your husband. There's only one person who can tell you the truth about Bradley, but she's the same one who seems to be on a quest to ruin your life.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, pregnancy, jealousy, mentions of cheating

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Tramp whimpered at your feet. The muffled sound of the Bronco's door closing sent you to the front window to look out onto the driveway. It was dark, but you could see Bradley's tear-streaked face lit up by the dome light as you choked on a sob. It took everything you had to stand there instead of running to him.

He was gripping the steering wheel of the blue Bronco, and you waited silently for the engine to start. But it didn't. He barely moved. And you barely moved. But you couldn't step away from the window even as the light inside the Bronco faded into the night. Everything was silent. Your pounding heartbeat was all you could hear as the baby squirmed around in your belly like she knew her father was too far away from her now. Minutes passed, and you sank down onto the couch, but Bradley never started the engine.

You wanted him to come back inside, but you just told him you wouldn't hesitate to take the kids and move back to Maryland with your parents. "What did you do?" you gasped as fresh tears filled your eyes. You couldn't tell if you were being strong or stupid or some combination of the two, but the longer you stared out the window, the more you realized Bradley wasn't leaving you even though you told him to.

Relief washed over you knowing he wasn't running off to Indigo. Maybe there was a way to salvage things. You couldn't take back what you said, and he couldn't take back anything he'd already done with her, but you didn't think you could stop loving him. You didn't think you could separate him from his daughters.

Your emotions were a mess as you eventually left the couch to get ready for bed. After you checked on Rose, finding her sound asleep in her crib without a care in the world, you peeked outside one more time. Bradley was still in the driveway, watching over the Craftsman and everything inside.

You took your broken heart to bed, trying your best to fall asleep through your tears.

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

It was cold outside this late in October, but Bradley sucked it up. He was certain you knew he was still sitting in the driveway, and he didn't want to start the engine at three in the morning and startle you. Or make you think he was leaving. He wasn't going anywhere. So he let the cold surround him.

Maybe you didn't want him in the house with you and Rose at the moment, but it was his responsibility to protect his family. And he wanted to be as close as you'd let him. Between small spurts of sleep, his mind drifted to the idea of you and Rose packing up everything in the house and moving across the country to live with your parents. It left him on the verge of panic each time. He bought the house for you. He had a family because of you. He was living beyond his wildest dreams married to you.

There was no way to convince you he wasn't lying. There was nothing he could say at this point that wouldn't sound like he was trying to cover his own ass. You could talk to Mav or Nat or Jake until they were blue in the face, but if you didn't trust him, it would sound like everyone was covering for him. Because truthfully, only he and Lieutenant Jeffries knew for sure that Bradley had never touched her.

Everything with the Navy took time. Mav was a big help, but a report would need to be written up for formal action. And now Bradley would need to notify someone about the new message Indigo sent with the world's worst timing, but meanwhile he was supposed to carry on like everything was completely normal.

As soon as daylight broke, he rubbed his exhaustion away from his eyes. He wanted to get to base to shower and change into the clean flight suit he kept in his locker, but he had to make sure you knew he spent the whole night in the Bronco first. So Bradley waited until he saw movement inside. Just a quick flick of the living room curtain, but he was sure you saw him. Nevertheless, he sent a text.

I'm leaving for work. If you want to talk, come find me, and I'll clear my schedule. We'll figure this out. We have to, because I can't live without you. I love you.

He didn't expect you to respond right away. He stretched, his body positively aching from sitting in one spot for so long before he started the engine. His stomach growled as he drove, reminding him he didn't get to enjoy what you cooked for dinner last night. He'd been missing dinner too often. It was almost Halloween, and the two of you should have been planning a costume for Rose to wear. He should have been working on an anniversary getaway for November. He'd been fucking up a lot for someone who wasn't aware he was doing it, but he certainly wasn't an adulterer.

The locker room was empty as he changed out of his wrinkly uniform and slipped under the hot shower stream. Nothing was going to make him feel better if you didn't trust him. Once again, he thought about you throwing all your fancy kitchen gadgets in a box and leaving without a backward glance in his direction. Bradley's hands shook, and he didn't know how he'd make it through the day at this rate.

As he pulled on his flight suit, he thought about going up to your office to wait for you to arrive. But he'd end up on his knees again, begging you to stay with him, and that wasn't what you needed to hear right now. He was exhausted, but he tried to clear his mind and think of some way to convince you he would never do anything to hurt you. But if Indigo already made comments directly to you, it felt like all hope was lost.

The walk to his office was long, but not long enough for inspiration to strike. Maybe Nat could give him some advice. She'd been harping on about girl code the other day. As much as he hated to admit it, Jake might be a helpful ally right now. He was a big fan of yours, and always quick to remind Bradley he'd married way out of his league.

He settled in behind his desk, unable to look away from the wedding photo for a few minutes. You looked perfect that day. You were perfect every day. There was no doubt you'd be perfect without him, but he didn't want you going anywhere unless you took him, too.

"Fuck," Bradley gasped, lungs burning with the effort to hold back his tears. His students would be sitting down to take a practicum exam shortly. He didn't necessarily need to be there, but it would look good if he was. But he'd also have to face Indigo in the classroom. Maverick was still up in Lemoore, and he was the only one who knew Bradley filed a formal complaint.

This was all exhausting. Nausea and fatigue waged war in his body as Bradley stumbled to his feet once again. He needed something to drink. Some cold water. He threw his office door open wide and walked back up the hallway to the small lounge where he grabbed a water bottle and downed it in one go. Panting, he took a second one before slowly heading back the way he came.

He didn't even feel better as he started sweating profusely. He wanted you. He wanted you to let him hold you. He wanted to kiss Rose.

His office door was just a few feet away when he heard her voice.

"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw."

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, fingers wrapping around the bottle so aggressively, he was afraid it would explode in his hand. He'd been told to keep his distance for now, but clearly Indigo was none the wiser as she followed him right inside his office.

"Sir," she said, voice bold and unbothered. "I thought we could walk to the classroom together."

Bradley spun and looked at her. He really shouldn't be surprised at this point. He also shouldn't be talking to her alone in his office, but she was standing there expectantly, blinking those eyes up at him.

"Unless you're not ready to head over yet...."

Her words trailed off as she casually reached for the door, fingers grazing the wood.

"Do not close that door," Bradley barked, surprising himself with his angry tone. Indigo's hand dropped to her side, eyes wide, but she took a step closer as he backed up until he hit his desk. He managed to set the water bottle down, chest rising and falling rapidly. He shouldn't be talking to her, but he couldn't help himself as he shook his head. "What is your problem?"

She cocked her head slightly, a hesitant smile on her lips. "Sir?"

Bradley skirted along past his desk as she tracked him. "I don't understand why you're trying to ruin my life," he hissed.

Indigo froze before bursting into delighted laughter that set his teeth on edge. "Ruin your life? I can assure you, Sir, I would like nothing more than to have a very good time with you."

Any warmth remaining in Bradley's body vanished, leaving him sweaty and shivering. "That's not appropriate," he gasped. "You're reporting to me through Top Gun, and I'm married."

She rolled her eyes and muttered, "This was a lot easier last time."

"You've done this before?" Bradley asked, eyes darting to the door and empty hallway beyond, wishing he'd just gone to your office instead.

"I like older men," Indigo replied sweetly. "Ones with lots of pins on their uniforms. And they've always been agreeable before."

"Unbelievable," Bradley groaned, ready to throw away all of his insignia pins and run away. "Lieutenant Jeffries, I have never laid a finger on you. We've never been alone in here with the door closed, ever."

"But you wanted to. You can admit it," she whispered, reaching once more for the door.

"Are you out of your mind?" Bradley's voice shook, but it was loud enough that she froze again. "You think I would jeopardize my marriage for you? My family? The thought never crossed my mind!"

Indigo licked her lips. "I've seen your wife. She's pregnant again. And she's -"

"She's perfect," Bradley barked, eyes blazing as he glanced at the wedding photo. "Do not talk about her. Ever." He squeezed his eyes closed and squared his shoulders before glaring at Indigo. "Get the fuck out of my office."

He was afraid she wasn't going to listen, the way she stood there and stared at him in surprise. But Bradley had nothing left. His fingers were shaking, and he was sure he was going to vomit. She finally turned and marched from the room with her chin in the air, and Bradley turned to face his desk.

Panic like he never felt before filled his veins. He had no idea what he was supposed to do now as he gripped the edge of his desk and stared down at his boots. His body shook with silent sobs as he tried to catch his breath, but his brain couldn't seem to get past the fact that his life was in absolute ruins.

"Oh, God," he gasped, lifting his head in time to see his office door move a few inches. Before he could fully register what was happening, you popped out from behind it and carefully pushed it closed.

"Sweetheart?" he croaked, examining your tear-streaked cheeks before you stumbled closer to him.

Why were you in his office? You were crying, working your hands in front of your pregnant belly as you whispered, "I'm sorry, Bradley!"

When he held his arms open, you rushed into them, burying your face in his chest as you wailed. He had no idea why you were in his office, but if the end result was getting to hold you tight, he didn't need a reason. As soon as you touched him, he immediately felt better.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," you sobbed over and over, body shaking against him. "I was so scared, and I look so awful right now. And I'm just so sorry!"

"Shhh," he coaxed softly, kissing the top of your head before letting his chin rest there. "It's okay."

"No. It's not okay," came your immediate, muffled response, arms tightening around him. "I made you sleep outside. I told you I'd leave with the girls." You looked up at him, tears brimming from your eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you."

Bradley shook his head, bringing his hand up to rest on your cheek. "I'm sorry I put you through this shit. This is so fucked up."

He let you cry, wiping your tears with his thumb as they fell for the longest time. He already felt like he could figure out a way to fix everything as long as you still wanted him.

Bradley kissed your quivering lips as you started to calm down. "Please never leave me. I'm not going to stop being in love with you. Okay? I just want my girls." With one more kiss, he whispered, "And there's nothing wrong with the way you look. You're perfect."

The smallest smile found your lips. "That's what you told Indigo."

"Baby Girl, that's what I tell everybody," he promised, relieved beyond belief that you witness that miserable exchange. "What are you doing here anyway?" he whispered, keeping you snug against him as you looked up at his face. "Not that I'm complaining, but I wasn't expecting you to want to see me."

"I came to talk to you as soon as I dropped Rose off." You wiped your tears on his flight suit as you added, "When I got here, the door was wide open, so I came inside. Then I heard her voice in the hallway. I panicked and hid behind the door."

"And I couldn't be happier that you did," he whispered.

"She really wanted to close the door."

"She really did."

"I hate her."

"Me, too," he sighed, exhausted from thinking about Indigo. He let his breathing match yours, falling into a comfortable rhythm that he didn't want to let go of yet. "I have an idea. Let's go home."

"Home?"

"Yeah. Let's go get Rose from the nursery and ditch the rest of the day. I just want to go home."

Now you were the one running your hand along his scarred cheek. "You must be exhausted." When he nodded, you said, "Okay. Let's go home, and I'll take care of you."

When you tried to pull away, Bradley kept you close. "No. I'm going to take care of you. I clearly haven't been doing enough of that since I started this position. So that's going to change immediately."

"We can take care of each other," you replied easily, but you were smiling. "I just need to talk to Cat first."

Bradley groaned softly. He was already imagining the three of you at home. He would make lunch while you fed Rose, and then everyone could take a long nap. He just wanted everything to feel normal again.

"Why do you need Cat first?"

You laced your fingers with his and started to tug him toward the door. "To get the ball rolling on Indigo's spectacular downfall."

"What?" Bradley's eyebrows shot up. "I just inadvertently managed to clear my name, and you already formulated a plan?"

You waved your free hand in the air. "It's like half a plan at best, but it's coming together." You paused. "You know what? I'll just call Cat when we get home. I'm sure we can handle it from there. I really want to snuggle with you, and I'm starving."

Bradley made sure the door locked behind him. "I am in awe of you," he murmured, letting you lead him down the hallway.

"Nobody messes with my husband."

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

You felt alive again for the first time in weeks. You were thriving. Bradley never let you out of his sight as he made lunch and burped Rose. He put her down in her crib, wrapped you in his arms, and led you toward the promise of an afternoon nap.

"Wait, Cat's calling me back," you whispered, watching his face fall as he tried to get you to the bedroom. "It'll just take a minute."

"I can barely keep my eyes open," he murmured, kissing your cheek before you backed away. "Just come in when you're done."

You watched him turn to the bedroom, pulling his undershirt over his head as he went. The temptation of his warm body wrapped around yours was almost too much to fight, but when you thought about Indigo, you wanted to punch a hole in the wall. Or her face.

"Hi."

"Where are you?" Cat asked. "I thought I saw you in the parking lot this morning, and now you're magically nowhere to be found."

"I'm at home," you told her quickly. "Hey, how close are you to finishing the new code for the Super Hornet updates?"

There was a beat of silence. "Not that close. We aren't rolling out the updates until the end of the year. It'll ground some of the pilots."

You smiled to yourself. "I want to start doing it sooner."

"Sooner?" she asked, confused. "How much sooner?"

"Tomorrow."

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

Hearing that straight from Indigo had to make BG feel so much better! Is this me being nicer? Beginning to mend things? Stay tuned.

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mandarinmoons · 3 days ago

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A Guiding Light

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gender neutral reader Summary: Worried about the new found method you discovered to help you fall asleep, Spencer takes it upon himself to make sure you're both safe and at peace Words: 1K Warnings: none

Sleep was something you had struggled with for a while. Whether it be to not moving around enough during the day to tire yourself out or sometimes nightmares plaguing your dreams, a good night’s rest was rare and at this point you would do anything to have even one night of undisturbed rest.

Over the years you had experimented with some tricks to see if anything would help you feel less restless to fall asleep faster. Some of the suggestions you had followed had worked, but it wouldn’t be long until you’d be tossing from side to side again.

The biggest help was when you started dating a sweet man named Spencer. Spencer was quick to learn about your unhealthy sleeping pattern and tried everything he could think of to try and let you rest. It wouldn’t be long though until you would be asleep in his arms, his thumb brushing over your temple lightly as soft breaths came from your mouth.

Luxuries like this weren’t a regular occurrence though. With Spencer working for The FBI he was constantly on the road and it pained both of you knowing that you had to be apart from one another for God knows how long. The first few nights apart from him were alright, Spencer had left one of his cardigans for you and the scent of him emanating from it helped find your way to dreamland soon. As the nights passed and Spencer’s scent from the garment started to dissipate, the tossing and turning returned and you were nearly in tears because of it.

“I finally found something to help me sleep and you took him away from me. You’re cruel, world.”

The next few nights were once again filled with scouring the internet and reading suggestions from people about what they have done when they’ve had trouble sleeping and some posts caught your eye.

There were many people that expressed that opting to light candles at night instead of using an electric light helped them to relax more and in turn helped them fall asleep faster. This piqued your interest and you decided to give it a shot.

That night, you lit a couple of tea candles by your desk and got cozy under the covers as you decided to read a book before you snoozed for the night. It was a book of poetry Spencer had read to you the last few nights before he left for a case and as you were reading the lines, you couldn’t help but hear Spencer’s voice in your head.

“Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,”

And it worked. Something about the cozy ambience and the sweet poetry made such a comfortable environment that you were out like a light. You continued with your routine until Spencer came home and upon hearing about what you had experimented with to fall asleep better, his eyes grew wide and multiple facts spewed from his mouth.

“When a candle burns for too long carbon may collect on the wick and the wick may become unstable, thus creating a potentially dangerous flame. A turbulent flame may also start to smoke and release soot, which can be harmful if inhaled. Additionally, if the candle is placed in a container, the heat can cause the container to crack or shatter, which can create a fire hazard or result in hot wax spilling out. Also, an unattended candle can be dangerous if it gets knocked over and could potentially cause harm to others as the candle can quickly start a fire if it falls onto a flammable surface. Then there’s also the pollutants burning candles emit that are harmful if inhaled in large quantities…”

As Spencer rambled on about the facts of how dangerous it was to leave a lit candle unattended, you wrapped your arms around him and pecked his cheek to stop him from talking for a minute.

“Spence, I’m okay, really.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?”

Spencer always seemed to have an answer and this situation was something he was going to find an answer to no matter what.

The suggestion he came up with was quite simple but you were quick to try and stop him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep?”

“I’m alright, just try and relax, okay?”

The idea Spencer had in mind was that he would stay up until the candle was completely burnt while you got to sleep peacefully without having to worry about anything happening. Truth be told you didn’t even think that anything could happen, they were little tea candles and your desk surface wasn’t uneven in the slightest, so the chances of something bad happening were pretty low. But you were smarter than to argue with your genius boyfriend, at least when it came to safety procedures, so you cuddled up to his side while he kept an eye on the flames.

Spencer’s eyes glanced from one way to the other, monitoring the fire on one side for a moment and then turning his attention to you, his fingers rubbing over your head while they caressed the locks of your hair, a sigh parting from your lips when his digits moved and caressed your temple which always seemed to do the trick to help you to sleep.

Not long after, you were gripping onto Spencer’s shirt as you were resting peacefully and the wick of the candle gave in and the light vanished from the room, leaving you both in complete darkness. A slight burnt smell wafted through the room and Spencer cringed at the smell, he knew the odor would disappear soon enough and instead he finally got comfortable next to you and rested his nose against your head, the smell of your freshly washed hair helping to cover up the bad fragrance in the room and also helping him relax as well after a hell of a work week. He might’ve been the cure to help you fall asleep, but little did you know that you helped him out just as much, if not even more.

You can find my masterlists here! Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

#spencer reid #spencer reid au #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x gender neutral reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds

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cjlouwho · 3 days ago

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The Gift of Going Gray

When Tommy looks in the mirror, the man who looks back isn't the same one that used to be there.

Well, technically it is, but it's doesn't feel like it.

The man Tommy sees now is grayer than he used to be. He used to think about dying his hair when he was young, but he never did it. Now, his body is doing it for him.

He's excited to see what he looks like when every strand is silver. He hopes his beard matches.

He's got wrinkles and laughter lines. Marks and ripples and crevices every time he moves his face, which some may look at with hate. He sees it as a happy life well-lived. He hopes he gets more.

The hairs on his chest match his head, but they're far more sporadic. As he rubs lotion over his pecs, skin a little less willing to stay moisturized, he wonders if those hairs will look invisible against him once they've all lost all their pigmentation.

He pumps out a little more lotion and moisturizes his arms. Still big, still muscular, still strong, but they get sore easier now. Need a little extra recovery time between workouts. Can't survive without monthly massages anymore.

His stomach is different. What was once defined abs is now a soft belly, more nourished than it ever was before. He's not trying for abs anymore. Doesn't really feel a need for it. He's healthy, he knows that, and that's what matters.

His hands have little wrinkles. Barely noticeable unless you really look, but he takes the time to really look. They're rough and calloused from years of manual labor, but the newest addition is the most exciting. Barely there ridges that you can run your fingertips over. Veins that are easier to see than they used to be. Skin that's thinner easier to cut.

There's a tan line on his ring finger. Which in and of itself isn't a sign of aging, but it sure as hell feels like it.

He'd never felt more grown, more centered, more sure, than the day he said, “I do.”

That tan line is a part of him now. Will be there, right under his engraved, gold ring, even when he's laid to rest.

If he doesn't stretch first thing in the morning, his back is likely to lock up on him sometime during the day. His knees require Icy Hot mid-shift.

He got his first pair of reading glasses last year. He couldn't believe the difference. Now there are five different pairs of glasses lying around the house, another pair in the truck, and one kept in his locker at work just so he always has them.

Once he's finished with his lotion, he opens the medicine cabinet and grabs a colorful bottle. His doctor recommended he start taking a multi-vitamin. A special one for older men. He's not actually sure it does anything, but he knows it doesn't hurt anything, so he chews the gummy everyday. The strawberry ones are his favorite.

He remembers when he was young, he used to joke his grandma about how she was always cold. She's laugh along, but she told him that one day he'd get it. One day he'd get cold faster too.

He keeps a space heater in the bathroom now when he showers. Pajamas went from sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt to sweatpants and long sleeves. He keeps socks on almost all the time. The ones he wears at home have little rubber grips on the bottom so he doesn't slip up on the tile floor. They're a literal life saver.

While his grandma got jokes over being cold, his grandpa got jokes about having to get up to use the bathroom during the night. When they'd take Tommy on trips over the summer, his grandpa was always saying that he needed the bed closest to the bathroom. Now, Tommy takes the side of the bed closest to the bathroom. Sometimes, he stops drinking water after seven just so he can reduce midnight trips to the bathroom.

Some people think it's ridiculous, how much he enjoys growing old. But he's seen the alternative too many times. At work, sure, but also in life. So many people he knew and loved whose life was cut short before they ever learned what getting older meant.

Growing old was a gift. And Tommy was grateful for it.

#bucktommy #911 #tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 abc #i wrote this instead of depressing shit

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mxrcurysb1tch · 2 days ago

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‧₊˚ 🪐༘⋆ જ⁀➴ Astrology observations pt. 4 ‧₊˚🪐༘⋆

Finally back with another post… after a month 😃

⭑.ᐟ The way I like to think about the sun, moon and rising is this: Your moon is who you are when everything else is stripped away from you. It is how you process your emotions and it’s the filter through which you see the world. It is the baseline “you” that you revert back to when you are running on empty. The rising is who you are at your best. When you’re operating from your rising sign you are at your peak performance. It’s probably the you that feels happiest. It is also who you aspire to be in life, who you want to be seen as. The sun is the “middle piece” it’s essence floats throughout your entire chart. I think of it as a subtle influence that underlies every part of you. Whenever you do anything there is always a part of your sun inside that action, thought or decision. I also like to think that the rising sign is the way in which you express your sun. For example, if you’re a Gemini sun and a Leo rising, you will express your Gemini in a Leo way.

⭑.ᐟ Fire moons may have felt like they couldn’t express negative emotions growing up and had to always seem positive and upbeat. Now they might have problems with opening up or admitting that they even experience sadness and pain. They might be masters at putting on a front with people even when they are losing it completely inside.

⭑.ᐟ Venus dominant people/strong Venus ie, Venus in Taurus (or Libra) Venus in 1h, Venus as chart ruler. They might be preoccupied with looks, their own and that of their partner. They can be very picky when it comes to choosing someone to date, which can be a good thing but can sometimes stop them from making real deep connections with people. They need to be careful not to choose people just based on looks.

⭑.ᐟ Saturn and Venus conjunction can look like someone who is blessed with a lot of material wealth but feels like it could be taken away at any time. It could also look like someone who loves to be given princess treatment/spoiled but feels very guilty when receiving money and time from other people. Natives can also feel guilty about their own wealth and have a deep understanding that not everyone is as fortunate as they are.

⭑.ᐟ Women with Capricorn placements / prominent Saturn love getting tattoos and piercings. It’s something about the permanence of it and perhaps a little about the pain… as is Saturn’s “motto”; no pain no gain.

⭑.ᐟ Pluto in the 7h- extreme jealousy in relationships. Either you attract it or you are the jealous one. Also a lot of instability with friendships. Moving friend groups a lot, not having stable friendships or relationships throughout your life. A lot of projection onto the other person, mirroring back their behaviours. It’s not a comfortable placement to have especially if it’s in synastry too.

⭑.ᐟ Sagittarius moons are super extroverted and love being out in the world BUT they also really love spending time in their rooms. Maybe this is bc the 2 sag moons that I know both have earth suns but I’ve noticed that they spend a lot of time in their rooms gaming and hiding away.

⭑.ᐟ Nobody talks enough about how funny Aquarius placements are, especially moon and sun. In my experience they are the best at coming up with hilarious inside jokes.

⭑.ᐟ People with planets in the 1h (especially if it’s the sun or moon or a stellium) are so genuine and you can tell they are not hiding who they truly are, they just couldn’t if they tried. They have a kind of congruency to who they are, and not as many layers to peel back (this does not mean that they aren’t complex people, just that they are real!) what you see is what you get! Also they really tend to embody the planets that are within this house. For example, my friend is a cancer rising with her mercury in there. I always thought she was a Gemini rising because she talks so much, even more than me as a Gemini rising LOL and she’s very analytical, but she just has a 1h mercury!

#astroblr #astrology #astrology community #astrology signs #astrology observations #astro placements #astroloji #astro observations #astrology content

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oceantornadoo · 2 days ago

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ch9 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: kidnapping. yeah...

masterlist | next

You feel like a teenager again.

Your first date is full of nerves and hormones, shy eye contact in the warm light of the candlelight dinner. That is, the candlelight dinner John organized in the back of a London bookstore you’d never explored, shut down early for the public so you could have a private dinner date. He takes you on a shopping spree after, setting you loose on the quiet store with no restrictions on time or money. You pick a few books to be sent back to your library in the country (what an extraordinary thought to have!), and a few for home. Home. Over the past weeks, almost two months, you now think of John’s home as yours. His bed as yours, his life entwined with yours.

“I would say you’re spoiling me too much, but honestly, you owe me.” You mention as John shadows your book search, his body heat searing into yours. He laughs, waves of sounds settling into your skin. “Glad y’r stayin’ true t’ y’r beliefs, sweetheart.” You nudge him with your hip and he takes advantage of your proximity, pulling you closer into the cage of his body. You grab the book you were perusing and tug it to your chest on instinct. “Hey! I said nothing sexual.” John nuzzles your neck, hands wrapping around your waist to rub at the pudge of your stomach. “‘S not sexual, jus’ comfort.” You melt like chocolate, conforming to the contours of his body.

“Tell me ya hate me.”

He whispers into the space between your ear and shoulder. You shudder at his words, pushing back into him to get closer. “I’m not answering that.” It’s the best you can give him without showing your cards. He hums in approval, sending a shock of electricity to your core. “Guess I’ll hav’ t’ take ya out again.” You turn in his arms, the book between you like a shield. “Someone’s presumptuous. Don’t you know it’s bad luck to plan a second date during the first?” He shrugs, the grays in his beard glinting in the lamplight. “Y’r a sure thing, sweetheart.” You gasp in faux-outrage, hitting him square in the chest with the book you’re holding. He barely moves, not having the decency to look hurt. If anything, he stalks closer with eyes like a tiger, a look at you like you’re prey. “Do tha’ again.”

That night, his words echo in your head. A little flower of insecurity grows in a hidden crevice of your heart. “Y’r a sure thing, sweetheart.” The memory of his smile, joking and lighthearted in the moment, warps into a smirk in your mind. In the bed you’re lying in, you inch away from John’s sleeping body as it replays over and over. Would all of this be happening if you weren’t married? How much of his hunger for you is fed by the fact that you’re the closest option? That you’re easy, letting him get you off within a few weeks of knowing each other. Sleep only comes hours later, when you’ve wrought your brain of all its thinking power.

John wakes you with sweet words and intimate cuddles, holding you against him as he tells you about all the places he wants to take you. Your earlier doubts, screaming and rioting, fade away into a whisper, letting his words wash over you. You forget about it.

Mostly.

Your own bookstore is getting along well. You’ve hired another assistant, a man named Arthur who was a referral of Phil’s. The extra help goes a long way, as he’s experienced enough to install the cafe you wanted in the front. In the next month, you order inventory and thrift furniture. You venture out to cafes to inquire about catering and post job listings for a cafe worker and bookseller.

On the weeknights you go on dates, John insists on picking you up from the store. It’s only one or two nights a week, where he’s free enough to do a late dinner or a drive around town. John shows London to you in bits and pieces, shyly peeling back the film of mystery that covers the town. You go to hole-in-the-walls, cuisines ranging from Jamaican to Indian to traditional British fare. The owners always seem to know him, giving him the best seats of the house and refusing to take his card. You’re starting to understand how much of an influence he holds, how the caring husband behind closed doors is also the feared mafia boss outside of them. It’s like you’re learning him anew, sharing childhood memories and terrible twenties stories every date. It’s a fantasy of what life would’ve been like if you’d met him naturally.

Speaking of his frightfulness, he’s not friendly with either of your assistants, but after a stern talking to, he becomes begrudgingly polite. He speaks in monosyllables and grunts, only offering you a full English conversation. Despite yourself, you find it a little endearing. This non-jealousy looks good on him and makes him handsier in car rides.

“Y’ look so fuckin’ good in these.” He’s talking about the overalls you thrifted, which appalled Gaz when he stopped by for breakfast this morning. You insisted they’re practical for the work you’re doing: going through newly delivered inventory and moving furniture around to your liking. “Thought you liked me in fancy things.” You murmur. He tells your driver to keep driving, then rolls up the partition to give you some privacy. John yanks you into his lap, a tight fit between his bulk and the ceiling of the car. It forces you to curl in tighter, your head in the crook of his shoulder. “Think y’re wearin’ these to our next gala.” Our. It grows roots and you hope it's poisonous enough to kill that flower of insecurity. He pulls you closer, and even through the denim of your pants, you can feel him grow hard under you. “John…” He kisses your exposed neck, then licks at the dust that’s settled on your skin. It’s so primal, like he’s reduced to base instincts when he’s with you. “We’re not doin’ anythin’. Jus’ want ya t’ know wha’ ya do t’ me.” He bites your earlobe, then soothes it with a lick. “So this has nothing to do with my all-male employee force?” He growls and you giggle at his annoyance. John pulls you back a bit so you’re off his cock, smirking when you groan at the loss. “Nah. Jus’ reminding you wha’ y’ve got at home.” You plant a quick kiss on his lips, then roll off and into the seat next to him. Despite the glaring safety violation, you tuck your legs under you and rest your knee on his thigh. Your hand runs through his beard, then moves up to smooth the wrinkles on his forehead. “Consider me reminded.” He kisses your palm near his face. “Now take me to dinner, I’m starving.”

Weeks later, you’re home late from your favorite date yet. A private movie screening of a drama film you’ve been talking about for weeks. The set-up was thoughtful and sweet, with your favorite candies and popcorn set up with a comfy blanket. However, the movie was darker than you thought, with a primary focus on a father and his strained relationship with his daughter. Two hours of watching them on screen left you raw and bloody, silent on the car ride back home.

“Feelin’ ok?” You nod. He squeezes your thigh, but when he tries to keep his hand there, you cross your legs so it falls off. He seems to get the message, stroking the outside of your thigh before pulling his hand back.

When you get home, Gaz is at your kitchen table. You nod to him in greeting, then try to bypass him in favor of a hot shower, but he stands up and blocks your path. “We need to talk, ma’am.” His eyes flick up to John standing behind you. “Sir, you need to hear this.”

Gaz lays out building plans and tax documents that blur in front of you. Your tired brain can’t comprehend what he’s saying, something about “encroachment” and “buying up buildings.” John goes into work mode, shrugging off his jacket and sitting down to take a closer look.

“Am I really needed here? I’m sorry, I’m just tired.” John’s eyes are warm but Gaz’s aren’t, his smooth skin marred by a frown. “Shepherd's bought a building a block from your bookstore. From what I can tell, it’s empty, but it’s a safety risk. It’s got a basement that we can’t get our eyes on.” You drag a hand down your face, clearly not equipped for this conversation. “Look, it’s empty, right? So just keep eyes on it and up my number of guards. I bought my bookstore under a ghost LLC, so the only way he’ll know is if he sees me. I’ll start using the back entrance.” Gaz’s eyes flit to John’s, waiting for his opinion. You groan at being dismissed so clearly.

“You know what, you guys figure this out. I’m going to bed.”

You leave before they can say anything. A hot shower calls your name, but the water is abrasive instead of calming. The same thing happens with your skincare, sitting too heavy for comfort on your face. When you’re ready for bed, and John’s still not there, you pop a few melatonin and go to sleep, eager to delay any sort of conversation.

He wakes you by brushing your shoulder gently. It’s clear the sun’s been up for a while, a rare sleep in. “Hi, baby.” You grumble at his words, turning to smother your face in your pillow. He kisses your shoulder, where his hand was, and stays there for a second, dark blue eyes tracking yours. “We need to talk.” His tone switches from sweet to serious, enough of a change to warrant you turning back to squint at him. “No.” He did not expect that, eyebrows raising. “No to whatever suggestion you’re going to make about delaying my opening or shutting down my bookstore.” You push off the covers, rising to get ready, but he yanks your arm and tugs you under him.

“It’s not fuckin’ safe.” He growls out. You push against him, trying for once. He uses his strength against you, pushing you further into the mattress. “Then make it safer. I’m not giving this up. There’s not even a clear threat yet.” You spit. Your tactical knowledge of Simon’s security strategy come to the forefront of your mind. “I’m puttin’ Gaz on yer team.” You roll your eyes, finally pushing off him to go use the bathroom. He follows you like a hound, not stopping when you try to shut the door in his face. “You’re not putting Gaz on my team. He would hate it. I don’t need a babysitter.” John doesn’t trust you, doesn’t trust the fact that you’ve been in this life for decades and know how to analyze a threat. John doesn’t respond as you pee defiantly, even when you throw a roll of toilet paper at his head to get him to leave. It’s only when you’re done washing your hands that he responds.

“It’s gettin’ more violent everyday, sweetheart. I can’t be biased when I make this call. Might need to send you t’ the country.” You can’t even compute his sentence. “What, send me away like you did 20 years ago?” That was not what you wanted to say. That was not how you wanted this conversation to be, you washing your face in your shared bathroom while he stares at you through the mirror. “Spit it out, darlin’. ‘S clear you want to.” You don’t comment on how he’s never called you darling and how evil he is to whip it out in that deep accent of his now. You towel off your face, then whirl around to face him, exposed in so many ways. “I think it’s pretty clear. You send me away when I complicate things. You did it when I was a kid and you’re doing it now. I’m a fucking problem to you, John.” He runs a hand through his beard, agitated.

“Tha’ why you hate me? ‘Cuz I told yer old man t’ send you away when I was 16 and green in the gills, not knowin’ a damn thing?” You frown, turning back to rub lotion on your face. You take your time, rubbing the excess into your wrists. John tracks the movement with squinted eyes. “I know you were young, John, but I was too.” John pulls you into him by the fabric of your t-shirt (his t-shirt). He settles his hands on your waist, ensuring eye contact before speaking. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry f’ bein’ an idiot when I was young an’ not thinkin’ about the little girl’s life I was destroyin’.” Well. That was the apology you’d been chasing for months, if not years. So why weren’t you satisfied?

“Thank you. But it doesn’t change what you’re trying to do now.” You stand and look at each other, silent. His hands don’t move and neither do yours, akimbo at your sides. “‘M not sendin’ you away. I’m keepin’ ya safe.” He murmurs. You shake your head in disagreement. “London is my home, John. The bookstore is my life. Where would you even send me?” He looks away, uncharacteristically unsure. “The country.” You roll your eyes. “You said that. I’m asking where.” He grips your hips hard, startling you. “The library.” You bark out a laugh. “The library? What, am I gonna sleep on the couch and just haunt the place.” A realization dawns on you. “No way.”

“Baby-”

“You own it?!”

“It was my first real estate purchase.”

“When were you going to tell me? You just, what, invented an old, dying friend?”

He almost looks embarrassed, the blush of his cheeks hidden in parts by his beard. “I didn’t want ya to feel trapped and you hated me too much then to take it freely. Yer mad I did somethin’ nice?” You pull away out of his grip, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “I am trapped, John. No matter how I feel about you now, I didn’t pick this marriage. On top of that, you lied. You won’t let me go on trips with you, you’re trying to push these security decisions on me, and I can’t even tell if you like me for me or my proximity. I need to go to work before I say something I’ll regret.” You dodge his reach easily, shucking on the nearest nice clothes you can find before heading downstairs to find Terrance. The clothes end up being your recently worn jeans and one of his button-ups, white for a change. It smells like him, pine and musk and man. You sniff the collar discreetly when Terrance is arranging for the car. Quick steps thud down the stairs and when you turn he’s there in a suit, unruffled and polished. You dart out the front door as quickly as possible, but because you’re weak and shameful, you turn back right before you get into the car. You mouth ‘bye’, brows knitted in frustration, and a sliver of betraying warmth hits your heart as he mouths ‘bye’ back.

Kyle is going to ask for a raise next week. He’s been working twelve-hour days, tearing through Shepherd's finances non-stop. He’s finally gotten to Shepherd’s employee list, unofficial, of course. Bored with the bland names, he switches over to his tabs on the bookstore. In his perusal, a name catches his eye. Phillip Sorth. Where has he seen that before?

Kyle goes through the man’s file. Pretty standard, worked at a bar before this. Kyle didn’t create this report, handing it off to a person on his team. So he’s disappointed when he clicks on the bar name, The General, and is returned with a blank page. Whoever made this is getting fucking fired.

The bar closed down three years ago. Which is odd, because Phil’s resume says he only stopped working there six months ago. When Kyle runs the address, alarm bells go off. It’s one of Shepherd’s.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He dials Price’s phone, which goes straight to voicemail. Shit. While he waits, Kyle runs another test and sure enough, Phil’s NI number links to a Phillip Graves, not Sorth. Which, of course, is a name on Shepherd’s fucking list. A top name, actually. The man’s a high-ranking spy.

Kyle dials Terrance, who also doesn’t pick up. He bursts out of the security room and ensures his keys are in his pockets before heading out the door. “Shut this shit down. We’re at Level 5.” He barks out to the men guarding the door, emulating his Captain. They immediately start talking in their earpieces and out of the corner of his eye, Kyle sees his men in the park close in on the Castle. Good. Someone needs to protect this place while he tracks down a fucking rat. Before someone harms the new angel of the Castle.

“Arthur, do you mind putting these away? I think my arms are going numb.” He takes the box from your hands with ease, winking as he walks away. You breathe out a sigh of relief, then trek to find Phil. He was finalizing the checkout desk, but now he’s nowhere to be seen. You really want to get his opinion on your ideas for wall decor. You head back to the office, thinking he might be there, but pause right before you walk in. Phil’s on the phone, and the walls are thin enough that you can hear his entire conversation.

“Yessir, copy that.” Who’s he calling sir? It’s like how Gaz addresses John, deferent and loyal. “Affirmative. Later today. We’ll get the van ready and-”, the rest of what he says is muffled, like he’s turned away from the door. Something isn’t right.

That’s when you realize you haven’t seen Terrance in over thirty minutes. He went to the bathroom, which he always tells you about, making you feel like a third-grade teacher, but he hasn’t come back. You dig in your pocket for your phone, then swear when you remember you left it on the cafe counter. When you turn to go find it, there’s a wall in front of you. A human wall. Arthur.

“Sorry ‘bout this.” You try to run but a strong grip captures your arms, holding you firmly in place. From the corner of your eye you see Phil, holding you tight as you struggle against him. “John will find you. My brother will find you. You’re going to-”, except you can’t tell him what he’s going to regret, as Arthur holds a rag over your mouth and everything goes dark.

Sorry this took so long! This semester has been crazy. Im thinking 3-4 more chapters and we’ll be done! I hope nothing happens to reader…

@heretoreadanddrinktea

@peachyxrosie

@joufrance

@galactict3a

@exactlyyoungchaos

@trulovekay

@alleycc

@abox-of-rocks

@orangehibiscus

@mismatchsposts

@nova-willow-541

@throwing-up-butterflies

@grossitsluca

@evans-dejong

@popcornlauncher

@earthcole

@backfromthedeadhehehe

@baduzzxy

@thegreyjoyed

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@dearghostling

@mrsmalfoy1005

@all-by-myself98

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@baklovers

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@the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned

@barcelonaaababe

@brokenandemptyhearts

@sleep101

@ontopofthefridge

@lilynotdilly

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@ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii

@violetisheresworld

@lolwey

@polyfandom-blogs

@burrowedinnature77

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@thriving-n-jiving

@krispymagazinepizza-blog

@grayskel

@rpgsandstuff

@hisuccubus

@lumi-kalyke

@gimmeabreak1

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lanascurse · 3 days ago

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: ̗̀➛ Safety Scripting ideas for your dangerous DR’s ! !

────────────

𑁋 you are protected from severe or moderate injuries including: damage to the brain/organs, breaking any bones, tearing any ligaments and muscles, etc.

𑁋 your body is constantly healthy, even immune to common sicknesses like the cold and such (if desired)

𑁋 you can never catch serious illnesses, or contract anything serious

𑁋 if you do want to experience some sort pain for the sake of realism, script in high pain tolerance (very important!)

𑁋 your body heals quickly (preferably 1-3 days or within hours)

𑁋 you’re capable of fighting off any unwanted dangers, always come out on top.

𑁋 you have an intimidating aura that makes others afraid to approach you (specifically people looking for trouble/harm)

𑁋 you can go without food and water for a long time without physically deteriorating. or script that you never have to deal with food and water shortage/you always find food and water wherever you go.

𑁋 no any unwanted mental issues and you are free from suffering severe depression, anxiety, etc. this saves you mentally which could eventually affect you physically.

𑁋 it’s real life, so make sure you script that you are able to process trauma well. but if you want, nothing is stopping you from not having any sort of trauma at all !

𑁋 any of the monsters/creatures in your DR cannot infect, posses, or kill you. you never feel guilty ridding them off the face of the earth, it’s what you must do to survive.

𑁋 you have fantastic coordination, strategy, and execution (figuratively and literally) skills. these skills allow you to navigate your surroundings and make it out of life-threatening situations.

𑁋 physically strong. fit enough to run a marathon.

𑁋 you feel a strong sense of unease whenever something potentially dangerous is lurking near you. your intuition is always on point, you never ignore it.

𑁋 negative people will always end up leaving your life, letting you thrive in all your glory. and sooner rather than later.

𑁋 you know basic survival skills. handy if you find yourself out in the wild!

𑁋 certain dangerous plants, bugs, substances, etc. cannot affect you or you have high resistance against them. heck, they can’t even reach you.

𑁋 your height, clothes, hair, nails, jewelry, menstrual cycle, etc. never put you at a disadvantage in battles.

𑁋 you have a trusted group of people who protect you from unwanted danger. also, they radiate positive, uplifting energy!! helps in times of distress fr.

𑁋 you’re mentally mature enough to handle serious situations.

𑁋 if you use safe words, then you always remember it in instant moments of unwanted danger. you’ll know when too much has become TOO MUCH.

𑁋 you and your loved ones cannot be killed. script death happens from natural causes in old age.

𑁋 your opponents moves are easy to predict, easily dodge and avoid any harsh attacks.

𑁋 if you’re bound, you can easily slip yourself out of the restraints.

𑁋 all of your senses are sharp throughout your whole lifetime. not even old age can interfere with it.

𑁋 ALL of this for your loved ones as well !!

────────────

thank you for reading!! if there’s any other suggestions you have, please leave a comment :)

#shiftblr #reality shifting #shifting antis dni #shifting blog #shifting community #shifting motivation #shifting ideas #shifting script #scripting #desired reality #intended reality #shifting realities #shiftinconsciousness #shifting #loa blog #loablr #loa tumblr #loassumption

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gracieheartspedro · 22 hours ago

Text

Cherry Stems

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

description: eddie rejects your advances because his friends are around. so you use them to your advantage. piss eddie off and maybe you'll get what you want. maybe.

warnings: MDNI! 18+ only pls, age not specified but i imagine eddie/reader are 20+, porn without much plot, major teasing, reader is a brat, mentions of eating food, reader has no food aversions, nicknames, reader is flirting with eddie's bandmates, jealousy, possessiveness, name calling, face grabbing, eddie is lowkey a dom, unprotected p in v, fingering (vaginal), oral fixation, eddie puts his fingers in your mouth a lot, reader gets off on being bullied, orgasm denial, cum play, cum eating.... think that's it.

author’s note: hi i wrote this in one night. i am a whore for eddie, what else can i say. i'm also down to take requests, so if you see this, hey, send me an ask. maybe i'll cave and do some. as always, thanks bestie girl @amanitacowboy for helping me with this. let's never forget how much of a whore we are for this man. it keeps me (in)sane <3

Eddie had been teasing you all night and it was really starting to get to you.

After a pretty electric performance at The Hideout, Eddie and his friends decided that they were hungry for some burgers from the empty Shiny Diner nearby. You had already had enough of Eddie’s shit at this point, so as soon as you sat next to him in the big half moon shaped booth, you knew it was game on.

From eyeing you while he sang filthy lyrics from the stage, to the way he was working his hand up the hem of your dress when you sat at the bar, Eddie was truly being a menace. When the band got loud in the car on the way to the diner, you decided to make your move. You had rested your hand on Eddie’s crotch while sitting in the bucket seat next to him. While Eddie loved giving a good show, he was not keen on letting his friends see you in such a way. So he brushed your hand away and gave you the ‘not now’ eyes.

You were for him and him only.

It aggravated you to no end, watching him rejoin the conversation with the guys, while you crossed your arms in disappointment.

But you were going to push some buttons tonight. You were going to get him back.

Gareth, Jeff, and Grant were all very sweet boys. Each of them have never been nothing but respectful of you. Gareth had known you longer than Eddie and he was actually the one who introduced you two. Jeff was usually a know-it-all, but he never dared question anything you said. And Grant… he was just quiet. Always following along with the antics and very well mannered.

While you respected all the boys back, you also knew they found you attractive and that you could take advantage of that. After one specific smoke session together a couple months back, Eddie asked them all if they had a crush on you. He only ever said things like that to make them squirm. Teasing each other was the way they showed their love for one another. He also liked to remind people that they never stood a chance with you. And they all said that of course they found you pretty, but they would not dare go after you.

Well, for one night only, you would give them believe they had a chance. Just to piss off Eddie.

You had done this before. A year into your relationship, you had unintentionally made him jealous and it led to the most mind blowing sex of your life. The sex was so memorable that you do not even remember how you made him jealous.

You needed that just about now.

You were the only group there along with the waitress and line cook, so you were not worried about making a scene. You game plan how you were going to achieve such a feat as you scan the diner menu. You already knew what you wanted, but spotting the milkshakes on the list of drinks, a light bulb went off in your brain.

The older waitress took down the boy’s order while you sat quietly staring at the menu. When it came down to you, you look up at the white haired woman and smiled.

“One chocolate shake, extra whip cream and cherries, please.” You hand her the menu and glance over at a confused Eddie. You usually got a Dr. Pepper and a cheeseburger value meal, hold the lettuce.

“Not hungry, baby?” He asks, reaching out for your black painted nails. You slide your hand away, acting like you are reaching for something in your purse.

“Just wanna try something new.”

You pull your lipgloss out, still not looking over at Eddie. You twist off the top, placing the applicator on the middle of your bottom lip as your eyes flicker over to Grant’s. He is not paying much mind to anything, his eyes looking towards the window behind you. When he takes note of your gaze, he finally looks at you.

You swipe the gloss across your lips, smirking devilishly.

“What did you get, Grant?”

He thinks for a beat, realizing even he forgot what he ordered. “Uh… BLT with onion rings.”

You smack your lips together, rubbing your top lip on the bottom one painfully slow.

“You gonna share your onion rings?”

He was not expecting the question, his lips curling upward before he chuckles. You can feel Eddie’s body stiffen as you ask the question.

Grant nods, though, “Of course. You can have some-” “Baby, you’re not gonna eat his food.” You shoot a glare at Eddie, tossing your gloss back in your pocketbook. “Grant said I could, so… yeah I am.”

Eddie’s eyes search yours, trying to figure out what you are trying to do. You disguise your pleasure at his curiosity, rolling your eyes and pointing your attention at Jeff. He’s positioned right next to Grant, fiddling with his fingers. Before you can press him with a question, the waitress comes and puts down your drinks. She’s missing your milkshake.

“That’ll be out in just a moment,” She says, grabbing her tray as she returns behind the counter, seemingly preparing your shake. You watch Jeff fiddle with his straw wrapper and you finally decide to bother him next.

“Is that Dr. Pepper?” You ask, already knowing the answer. Jeff always got Dr. Pepper, just like you. It’s something you two bonded over often. He just nods, taking a sip of the bubbly beverage. You look over at the waitress quickly, seeing she’s still fiddling with the milkshake blender.

You grab Jeff’s ice cold glass, your eyes glistening with innocence, “You mind if I have a sip? I’m parched.” And of course he’s too confused to say no. You pull the drink over and once it crosses to your side of the table, Eddie’s hand presses into your bare thigh. You do not react, taking Jeff’s straw into your mouth and sucking in a big sip, your eyes never leaving his. Once you pull the plastic away, you smirk.

“Thanks, hun.” You push the drink back to him slowly. His cheeks heat up instantly when he notices your lipgloss on the tip of the straw. Eddie’s hand only squeezes more, trying to get you to look over at him.

He wanted your attention so bad, his body curving closer to you. You can feel his gaze stuck onto the side of your face.

Before anyone says anything else, the white haired lady returns with your chocolate shake. You giddedly grab the glass and stuff a straw into the frozen drink.

You use your tongue to toy with the end of the straw, pulling it into your open mouth. Your eyes flicker away from Jeff and take aim at Gareth, who’s seated right across from you. Since he’s known you so long, you can already read on his face that he knows what you are up to. He may be a nice guy, but he too loves to fuck with Eddie.

He was going to help you in whatever way possible. Instead of you initiating conversation, he speaks up.

“Chocolate, huh? Thought you’d like vanilla.” Your eyebrow quirks up. You know Eddie’s face is bright red next to you. The heat radiating from him is pressing into your shoulder and thigh.

“You got me pegged as a vanilla girl? That’s a bit offensive, Gare,” You smile, calculating your next move. You look down at the pile of whipped cream on the top of the shake. You drag your pointer finger across the top, gathering the cream all around it.

You hear Eddie whispering beside you. “You better fuckin’ not.”

You smile, bringing your finger to your lips, not peeling your eyes from Gareth. You know the tension is palpable because Gareth’s smile is only widening when you lick the cream off your finger.

The other guys are gawking at you at this point. You were putting on a show and they could not even fathom that it was happening before their very eyes.

Gareth finally says something, nodding at the milkshake. “And extra cherries?”

“Gareth-,” Eddie’s voice fades over yours.

“Oh yeah! You know I can tie the stems with my tongue?”

Eddie’s rings are going to be imprinted on your leg with how tightly he’s gripping onto you. You grab one of the cherries, getting your fingers covered in more whipped cream. You lean your head back a bit, your nose facing the old tile ceiling. You drop the cherry in your mouth, stem up. Tilting your head back, facing Gareth, you pull the cherry off the stem between your teeth. It’s unbelievably sensual the way you chew the red fruit.

You show each of the boys the stem, even Eddie. When you glance over at him, you do not believe you have ever seen him so annoyed. He’s not hiding it well. You drop the stem on your tongue, returning your gaze over to Gareth.

You roll the stem around, using your teeth slightly to do the stupid party trick you learned in 10th grade to impress a boy. It’s not impressive when every hot girl in school could do it, too. But nonetheless, it was something you could do to layer on the eroticism of the moment.

When it’s tied, you contemplate taking it out of your mouth and showing it off. Maybe even drop it in Eddie’s hand. Instead, you decide to just extend your tongue out and show the stem on the very tip of your tongue.

The color drains from Eddie’s face. It’s the end of the show for him.

He grabs your forearm, ripping you out of the booth. You look back at Gareth, who’s still smiling, all the while Jeff and Grant look even more confused.

When the fresh air hits you when he slams the glass door open, you flick your head to the side and spit out the stem in the gravel. His grip is so tight around your arm as he drags you to the van. It’s parked on the far side of the lot, occupying a spot that’s backed up to some woods.

“What is wrong?”

Asking such a question only pisses him off further. Once you reach the van, his left hand flings the side door open. He practically tosses you onto the shag rug that lines the very back of the vehicle.

“Are you fuckin’ with me right now?” His voice is intimidatingly deep.

Your legs hang out while Eddie stands over you, his hand resting on the top of the van. The back of your knees feel the sting of the frayed metal that hinges the door shut. You swallow, contemplating if you should continue messing with him. With the way he’s looking at you, you felt that this was not going to lead to the jealous sex you two had before. He’s actually angry.

“You pushed my hand away when I wanted you earlier.”

Your voice is so small and unsure. His eyes narrow at you, his mouth slightly ajar in complete disbelief. The silence hanging in the air makes your heart rate increase.

His mouth closes and you watch his jaw clench, “So you flirt with my friends right in front of me? Even when I explicitly said you better not.”

With his free hand, he swats your bare leg as you squeeze your thighs together. “Answer me.”

You watch the red mark appear on your flesh and decide to keep playing into the game. You had nothing to lose. If he’s actually angry, you could always have amazing make up sex instead. Eddie could not stay mad at you for too long.

You shake your head, lifting your chin up in defiance. “All I did was tie a cherry stem.”

He does not accept that answer, slapping your thigh harder this time.

You knew then that you had him where you wanted him. His eyes were giving him away. His pupils dilated as soon as he realized that you did not yelp at him slapping you around.

Your eyes widen, watching him jump into the van beside you and dragging you back further. He slams the door, rattling the hunk of metal. The only light being let in is from the front windshield. A hazy warm lit streetlight only lights up Eddie’s face as he’s pining you to the ground.

He positions himself between your legs, pushing the back of your thighs up with his knees. The skirt you chose for the occasion was pretty flowy, so it slid up your hips as soon as he props you up. “You want to act like a whore in front of my friends? All ‘cause I slapped your hand away earlier?”

His voice does not even sound like his. You hear the jiggling of his belt as he asks you the question. But the more twisted Eddie was, the more aroused you felt. You were drawn to him the first moment he teased you and bullied you a bit. You got off on him being callous.

“Words. Now.”

You look down between your legs and see his cock springing free from his boxers as he shoves them down his thighs. You groan, the pulsating at your core coinciding with your heart rate. “Wanted to get your attention.”

He smacks your inner thigh, painfully close to your pantyline. You moan at the action, propping yourself up a bit more on your elbows. You watch as he carefully drags his pointer and middle finger under the hem of your lace. He smirks to himself, “That’s not what I fuckin’ asked.”

His fingers dip under your underwear, gathering the slick between your folds. You throw your head back, unable to hold back the sob as he spreads you open. You were putty in his hands, always bending to him. “Yes, Eddie.”

Your response leads to him sliding his fingers inside your cunt, a wet squelching noise filling both your ears. Your back thuds against the rug as your muscles give out under his touch. He fucks you with his fingers, the look on his face unreadable. He usually takes his time with foreplay, but this was different. He was testing how far he could take you in a limited amount of time. You were in a parking lot with his friends less than 500 feet inside, he could not take his time torturing you.

His fingers retract from your pussy, gripping onto the lace of your panties and tearing them down your legs. When he sits back on his heels, you watch his long cock bounce with his movements. It sends a smile across your face. When he zeros in on you again, he tilts his head to the side.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t talk anymore.”

It makes you giggle at first, unsure if he’s really being serious. But when his face does not twist up into a smirk like it usually did, you realize you were in trouble. He takes ahold of his dick, leaning forward onto you. Your mouth falls open as you study Eddie dragging his tip between your slit, gathering as much of your wetness as he could.

He sinks into you, raising your hips a bit to meet him straight on. The stretch is always overwhelming for you at first. You and Eddie fucked at least three times a week, but he always made you cum before shoving his cock deep inside you. Stretching you out for a couple minutes with two fingers is not enough for you. He hisses when he pulls back, his hands grasping onto you for dear life.

He wastes no time setting a bruising pace. There’s no build up, he is simply taking his annoyance out on you. You are reaching out to anything around you, trying to find something to hold onto as he rams into you. You find a sweatshirt nearby, squeezing it as tight as you can as you breathe out to relax your pelvic muscles.

“Eddie, please-” You try to say, throwing your head forward. He shifts your hips a bit more, opening you up wider. As he does that, he rakes his hands upward, pushing your skirt up higher to your belly button. He shakes your head to your pleas.

“Eddie, please.” He mocks, relocating his hand to squeeze your cheeks together. When your jaw unhinges, Eddie inspects your tongue as he drills into you. “Put my fingers in your mouth.”

“Ed-”

He sandwiches your face harder, cutting you off from being able to say anything. He fills your mouth with the two fingers that were plunging inside of you earlier. The taste of your own arousal is still present on his fingers as you swirl your tongue around the digits. You mewl as he grinds his pelvis into your clit. “Shut up,” he orders, his face centimeters from yours, “Now suck them while I fuck you.”

You have no way to talk back, so you do what he says. You hallow your cheeks out, lathering all your saliva around his fingers. The build up in the pit of your stomach only gets more intense when Eddie hoists your leg up over his shoulder. You clench around him, tears pricking your eyes as you vibrate his fingers with your moans.

“Do not fuckin’ cum yet,” He warns, pulling his fingers in and out of your mouth. His hips are faltering as he chases his own climax. Your body feels like every nerve ending is about to implode under the pressure of you holding back your orgasm, and Eddie can sense that. He drags his fingers out from your lips, rubbing your own spit into your lips. He grabs your jaw with the same hand, pulling your face closer to his.

“Say you’re mine. You’re only gonna be mine.”

You nod, knocking his forehead slightly. “I’m only ever gonna be yours, Eddie.”

With your foreheads touching, you watch as he falls apart inside you.

And with three vicious snaps of his hips, he spills his seed deep inside you. He does not let out a sound. His mouth is agape as deep heaves fan your face.

When he finishes, he slides his cock out of you and sits back on his knees again. Him exiting your body is so frustrating, you want to scream.

He uses one arm to hold your one leg back as spit covered fingers swipe up your cunt. His spend is leaking out of you and you know if he works his usual magic, you will cum in 30 seconds.

“Please, Eddie. Please let me cum.”

He smirks villainously, “Why should I let you, hm?” He spreads your pussy lips, getting a good look as his cum dribbles down to your asshole.

You are getting desperate. You never had to beg Eddie to cum, ever. He was always so generous.

“I promise I’ll be good. Please, please.” He chuckles dryly before sinking his fingers back into you. “Fine. Since you asked so pretty and promised to behave yourself.”

His fingers scissor into you, that familiar burn in the pit of your stomach returning. As his two fingers make work at your entrance, his thumb swipes your clit in meticulous circles. His bottom lip is tucked under his top teeth, watching you fall apart on his fingers. You are practically chanting his name as he brings you to your peak.

When your chest heaves, finally relaxing from your orgasm, Eddie slides his digits out of you and brings them up to his plump pink lips. He licks them clean, just like you did with the whipped cream earlier.

“Hm… Don’t see how Gareth thought you were a vanilla girl,” He states, smiling sinfully at you. “You, my dear, are a fuckin’ vixen.”

tags of friends who may like this idk (if you wanna be tagged in the future, just lemme know <3):

@hockeyhughes @pedgito @mediocredreams @the-unforgivenn

#eddie you are plaguing my every thought #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson smut fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #joseph quinn #joe quinn #fic: cherry stems #gracieheartspedro

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barnesafterglow · 3 days ago

Text

the art of missing someone

summary: bucky barnes was a lot, but he would always be yours

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: brief college then modern au, little bit of angst, don't ask if this is based off personal experience i will cry, smut (MINORS DNI!) [unprotected sex, oral (f receiving)], confessions, idk man i'm just here

a/n: first fic of 2025!! this was a bitch and i still lowkey hate it but it is what it is

main masterlist - i no longer have a taglist but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary for updates!

The thing about Bucky Barnes was, well, he’s kind of an asshole.

In a funny way, really, but an asshole through and through and, for some reason, that did it for you.

It did it for you so much, in fact, that you had been going in circles with him for years now. You met him originally at a party in college; you didn’t know anyone except for your roommate, Natasha, and she introduced you. You immediately gravitated towards him, with his quick wit and sharp opinions, you felt like you could talk to him about anything. He kept close to you the entire night, getting more touchy as the evening dragged on, until the tipping point came.

You were finishing up a game of beer pong where you and Bucky absolutely dominated, and as you sank the last cup, he picked you up, swinging you around before setting you back on your feet. The thing is, he didn’t really let you go. You stood there, in the middle of a crowded party, with his arms around you and it was like everyone else disappeared.

Searching your eyes for permission, he bent his head down and his lips met yours and that was really the beginning of it all. It was unlike any kiss you had ever had, sweet but a little desperate and you craved more.

It became a thing, after that. You would see Bucky at a party, make nice for a few hours, then end up in a closet or empty bedroom making out until someone came to find you.

But more than that, Bucky became your friend. He was who you talked to in your darkest moments, who you sent stupid videos to, everything, and you liked it like that.

That is, until everything got turned on its head.

It happened right after graduation. You had just moved into your own apartment and were waiting for Bucky to come over for movie night. You hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks, the communication very much lacking, but you figured it was just a busy time for both of you and once you got settled, everything would be fine.

That is, until you got a phone call as you closed the microwave door and started the popcorn. Immediately seeing Bucky’s name, you wiped your hands and answered.

“Hey, you almost here?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then a sigh.

“I- I don’t know how to say this,” Bucky started, and you found yourself growing nervous. There was nothing you and Bucky couldn’t talk about. Well, almost nothing. “Me and Dot, well, we’ve been talking and…”

His voice trailed off, the line going quiet again. But you were going to make him say it.

“We’re getting back together. She really wants to make it work this time.”

And there it was. Dot was Bucky’s on again-off again for the last several years, stretching back to before you even knew him, and it was a sore spot in your friendship. They had mostly been “off” in the time you’d known him, save for a few memorable occasions where she wormed her way back into his life for a couple weeks just to break his heart all over again. It was safe to say she was not your favorite person, and you certainly weren’t hers.

“Bucky…” you started, but he cut you off.

“No, I know what you’re thinking.” He actually probably had no clue how evil the thoughts you had were, but you weren’t going to enlighten him. “But it’s serious this time, we’ve been talking since graduation and we’re both ready to give this a real shot, without all the bullshit.”

He sounded so sincere, and he was your best friend, so you took a deep breath and sighed, accepting the fact that if you wanted Bucky in your life, this was just something you would have to deal with.

You could hear his relieved laugh on the other end, and you felt your stomach give an odd lurch, like someone had pulled a carpet out from under you.

“I knew you would understand, thank you.”

“Of course, Buck. Now, what about movie night?”

Another beat of silence, then, just like you knew it would happen:

“I can’t, Dot is coming over.”

You wanted to argue, to scream, to make him feel bad about choosing her over you, but hadn’t he already? So instead, you mumbled a quiet agreement and hung up, not wanting to talk to him any longer. Already, it felt like the beginning of the end.

And you weren’t sure you were ready for that.

It didn’t even happen slowly, is the worst part. You didn’t see Bucky that night, or any night for the weeks that followed. It wasn’t until you saw him at the coffee shop by your apartment that you were able to talk to him.

You sat down at his table, no longer interested in placid excuses and apologies, and asked him point blank what was going on.

“I’m just trying to keep Dot happy.”

“By staying away from me?” You were frustrated, sure, but under that really you were just hurt. “Listen, you know I don’t like her, but I would never ask you to choose between us. That’s not fair and if she cared about you like she said she does, then she wouldn’t either.”

“It’s not like that!” His voice was raising, just a little, so you knew he was just being defensive. He must have heard it too because he cleared his throat, voicing going back to normal. “I just don’t want to cause any problems.”

You nodded, grabbing your coffee as you stood up, and headed for the door. If he was willing to let your friendship go, then you weren’t going to fight him on it. So you left, face heated with embarrassment and tears threatening to spill over.

As you passed the threshold to the coffee shop back onto the sidewalk, you pulled your headphones on, ignoring the bustle of the city and Bucky still watching you leave through the window.

Adjusting to a life without Bucky was weird, you had to admit, but you did it anyway. The first few weeks were the hardest, when he was the first person you wanted to text during any occasion, but eventually that muscle memory faded until you were reaching out to the people who actually valued you in their life.

Almost a year passed, and you moved on in all the ways you could. You heard Bucky moved back across the river to Brooklyn and that was about all you knew; your friends avoided the mention of even his name if they could help it, even though you knew at the very least Steve and Natasha still talked to him.

You just hoped he was happy, no matter what he was doing.

It was a cold January night when the notification came through. Wanda had recently convinced you to get on a dating app, even though you were perfectly content being single, thank you, but you had to admit the attention didn’t hurt.

You weren’t expecting much when your phone chimed and you unlocked it without even looking at the notification. Which is how you came face to face with Bucky’s Hinge profile, and a message attached to a picture of you that you knew he had taken saying: hey, you look familiar.

Was that really how he was going to make amends, on a dating app?

You supposed it was kind of funny, in that asshole way of his, and you stared at the message for another moment before responding.

oh, i know you?

if you want to

And, well, that was the thing. You did want to. No matter what he did, no matter how much he hurt you, he was still your best friend. Your Bucky.

Instead of answering, you pulled up a contact you hadn’t opened in months and pressed call. It rang one time before a familiar voice flooded the other end.

“Hey, stranger.”

“Hey, Buck.”

It was a healthy conversation, if you were being honest. Bucky apologized, told you he and Dot were done for good this time and, against your better judgment, you accepted it. You talked for hours after that, catching up on life and reminiscing on old memories, until you checked the time.

“Shit, it’s late,” you said as you put the phone back to your ear. “Almost midnight.”

And then, the words you dreaded but wanted desperately.

“Come over.”

“To Brooklyn? Buck I can’t take the subway this late.”

“I’ll pay for your Uber. Just come over.” You could hear the words he wanted to say, the ones on the tip of his tongue that he just wouldn’t force out.

“Well, I did miss you.” You tried to press it, to make him say it, but he only hummed on the other end.

“So is that a yes?”

You looked down at yourself, cozied up in sweatpants and a hoodie that you were almost entirely sure was Bucky’s, and sighed.

“Yes.”

“Perfect, your Uber will be there in 8 minutes.”

You didn’t have time to wonder how he got your new address - probably one of your mutual friends, maybe he had been keeping more tabs on you than you had on him - and shot up from the couch. With no time to change, you headed to the bathroom and brushed your teeth before taming your hair in the best way you could. As you were stuffing some clothes in an overnight bag - just in case, you told yourself - your phone chimed with a text from Bucky that your Uber had arrived.

In a whirlwind, you rushed to the car where the driver seemed very put off at having to wait a whole 90 seconds for you to walk four flights of stairs, and slid in.

The whole ride there you were nervous. The thing with Bucky was, despite many drunken hookups, you’d never actually had sex. You weren’t really sure why, just that it had never happened and you had been grateful for it in the long run. You weren’t even sure if it would happen tonight, if he still wanted you like that. Even with all your talking and catching up, you hadn’t been brave enough to ask what this meant.

At nearly 1am, your Uber pulled up outside a beautiful Brooklyn brownstone and, there on the front porch, stood Bucky.

He wrapped you in his arms as he stood in front of you, and it all felt so heartbreakingly familiar you gave in immediately, all the tension leaking from your body at the feeling Bucky gave you.

“Hey,” he said softly into your hair. “Come on in.”

Bucky’s house was so far from his old college apartment it was frightening, yet it couldn’t have felt more like Bucky. More like home.

You took in your surroundings, shelves of books and vintage furniture and warm tones, it was almost like stepping back into your own place, the aesthetics were so similar. That was the funny feeling in your chest, you were sure.

Eventually, you ended up on Bucky’s couch with some superhero movie on, not really watching it but still grateful for its background noise to fill the room with each lull in the conversation. Not that there were many, one thing that came easy with Bucky had always been talking - although neither of you did much of that when it really mattered; you figured you could put that out of your mind for now.

Over the course of the movie, you and Bucky shifted closer together until your thighs were pressed flush and you could feel the air from each of his exaggerated hand movements. It wasn’t until a wayward wave nearly grazed your nose that you truly realized how close you had become, and the sight of Bucky’s eyes shifting subtly to your lips has your self restraint at an all time low.

Fuck it, you thought. You had wanted this for so long, but you also knew you could live without Bucky if everything went tits up. It was a sad thought, that, but you couldn’t let this opportunity go. With every bit of courage you had, you let your hand float up to cup Bucky’s cheek, eyes searching for any sort of hesitation. When you found none, you leaned forward to close the admittedly small gap between your lips.

It was electric. Never had a kiss from someone else ever lit a fire inside you the way one from Bucky did. It started off slow, searching, a chance to reacquaint yourselves. But the second Bucky’s hand reached to tangle in your hair, everything shifted.

Suddenly you were pulled in Bucky’s lap, legs straddling his, lips desperate for a taste of what you’d missed for so long. It was everything you hadn’t let yourself wish for, and you had a feeling you weren’t going to be missing it again anytime soon.

It wasn’t until your shirts were on the floor and Bucky was making quick work of your clasped bra that you thought maybe it would be smart to just slow down. Just for a second, just to get your bearings.

An honest to god whine fell from his lips as you pulled back, stopping his hands from undressing you any further.

“Buck,” you whispered, forehead pressed to his, hands cupping his face as if he was something precious. Though you supposed he was, to you at least. “What’s going on?”

“I just…” His voice trailed off, obviously unsure of himself even though this at least was familiar territory. What was to come next, however, was not. “I can’t go another day without making you mine.”

Your core tightened at the words, vivid memories of what Bucky’s hands and mouth could do; fantasies of what else he could do invaded as well as suddenly talking didn’t seem like a priority anymore.

“Take me to bed.” And that was all he needed.

Bucky scooped you up bridal style, carrying you across the threshold of his bedroom and laying you gently on his bed. Your eyes darted around, wanting more of snippets of the life Bucky had built here, but you were quickly distracted by his body covering yours, the weight of him pressed between your thighs was comforting and intoxicating.

Bucky’s touch proved even more distracting as he shed you of your bra, mouth immediately latching to one nipple, the little nips and sucks enough to drive you crazy on their own, while his hands pinched at the other. He continued his assault until you were dizzy with want, then he trailed down your body with his mouth, not leaving an inch of skin undiscovered until he reached the waistband of your sweatpants.

He pulled them down just an inch, then his eyes shot up to meet yours at the discovery.

“No underwear?” His voice was deep, husky, almost fucked out if you really thought about it. It was a thrill that your hold on him was so tight that just the thought of you without underwear was enough to leave him reeling just a little bit.

You batted your eyes innocently. “Someone didn’t give me much warning about my Uber, I apologize.”

The giggle in your voice suggested the insincerity of your apology, but it didn’t deter Bucky as he pulled your pants from your body, mouth and hands still exploring.

His fingers traced unknown patterns along your inner thighs, gently pushing them apart until you were fully exposed to him. You felt nervous all of a sudden, like you had never been in this position before. You had, of course, but never sober, and never with Bucky looking at you so attentively - like he was going to eat you alive.

It was intense, having Bucky’s eyes bore into you as he lowered his mouth to your core, starting with gentle kitten licks until your hips were bucking, searching for more friction. One of his hands pinned your hips to the bed, while the other slipped through your folds, spreading spit and slick, before he slipped one inside of you. Then two, then three, until you were begging for release.

All it took was a soft whisper of come on, baby and a crook of Bucky’s fingers and you were falling apart, the intensity of your orgasm whipping through you, and as you floated back down to your senses, Bucky was still going.

It was feverish, like he couldn’t get enough of your pleasure, and each twitch and moan encouraged him until your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him away from your spent body.

He let out a protest, but you silenced it by pressing your lips to his, moaning at the taste of yourself as his tongue pressed into your mouth. You were lost in the sensation, letting yourself be manhandled until you were once again in Bucky’s lap. Sometime while you had been transported to another planet, his pants had been shed and you were oh so close to getting everything you ever wanted.

With your mouth still pressed to his, you rolled your hips, feeling the weight of him sliding along you. You kept at it, teasing and grinding until he thrust his hips and there it was; one slight adjustment and the feeling of Bucky stretching you out to was more overwhelming than you could have imagined.

Your hips stilled, as did Bucky’s, letting you adjust to him until you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, your way of telling him that you were okay, that he could move.

His thrusts started slowly, letting you feel every inch of him until you were begging for more. When his hands stopped roaming to grip your hips tightly, you knew you were done for.

Bucky held you in place, his hips snapping up to fuck into you and all you could do was hold on for the ride.

You were so overwhelmed you almost missed Bucky’s words, mixed in with his moans, but once you caught them, they were as clear as day:

I missed you.

Over and over, Bucky was repeating the words, interspersed with groans and heavy panting, but your heart restricted regardless

He missed you. Bucky missed you.

With your thoughts such a jumbled mess, reveling in the fact that this was really happening, your orgasm snuck up on you. One second you were floating on the high of Bucky and the next you were crashing, falling, and he was right there to catch you as you came down.

His hips slowed, stuttering as he spilled into you with one final thrust.

For a moment, the world around you didn’t exist. All there was was this moment, with Bucky’s arms around you and your head buried in his shoulder. Everything came back at once: your harsh breaths, the noise of the TV far away in the living room, and Bucky’s hushed whispers as he held you.

“I missed you so much.” You didn’t respond for a moment, but you lifted your head to meet Bucky’s eyes. In them lay the sincerity of his words, vulnerable now that they weren’t being said in the heat of the moment.

“I missed you too, Buck.”

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #marvel #marvel fanfic #mcu #mcu fanfic #tiff writes #the art of missing someone

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hukelughes · 3 days ago

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can we pls have some umich frat boy vibes luke pls anything

DRUNK IN LOVE! — LUKE HUGHES

SUMMARY: In which frat!Luke Hughes and his girlfriend play a constant game of cat and mouse at his parties.

WARNINGS: fem!reader, 18+ only, underage drinking (implied), suggestive themes, jealousy, established relationship.

WORD COUNT: 0.5k words (short, i know).

AUTHORS NOTE: my first piece of writing is officially posted! thank you for requesting nonnie <3 i know its short but i hope i fulfilled ur request!!

You dance around to the beat of a song you can’t quite remember, the warm fuzzy feeling in your mind caused by the alcohol you consumed preventing you from thinking straight.

Your white faux leather skirt is riding up your thighs, no doubt flashing your white lace thong to anyone who’s looking. Normally, you would’ve immediately pulled it back down, but you wanted his attention.

You feel a pair of hands grabbing your waist, his hot breath hitting your ear. You know exactly who it is by the smell of his cologne, which is why you aren’t brushing him off.

“Princess,” he whispers teasingly, “I thought I told you not to wear this tonight.”

You scoff, throwing your head back onto Luke’s shoulder while tilting your head in his direction. “When have I ever listened to you?”

Luke just chuckles, pulling your skirt down for you. “I wish you did, but I know you like being a brat. Everyone’s looking at you, you know? What if they saw what you wore for me?”

You hazily look around to see if his words are true, and you can faintly see that people, mostly men, are looking right in your direction. Frowning, you turn around in Luke’s arms, wanting to show them that you aren’t even going to entertain the idea of going home with them.

While you enjoyed the feeling of people looking at you, it never quite beat the feeling of Luke looking at you. The game the two of you played at his frat parties to see which one of you would inevitably get jealous normally only lasted about two hours before Luke came over and called a truce.

You’ve been dating ever since you both arrived at the University of Michigan, immediately connecting with each other. All of your freshmen classes were the same, which ultimately led to him coming up to you and introducing himself. You were cautious at first, he looked like the typical frat boy. Athletic, cocky, and he most likely had a bunch of other girls waiting to pounce on him if they ever got the chance. He didn’t let your guarded demeanor sway him, and soon enough you found yourself wanting to be around him all the time. It was hard for him to stay away from you, and he slowly started to insert himself into your life.

You didn’t mind though, because you felt the exact same way.

“It’s only for you, you know that.” You mutter, while looking up at him with glossy eyes. He looks right back at you with an eyebrow raised, silently saying “really?”.

To prove your point, you put both of your hands on each side of his face, bringing him down for a kiss. It’s definitely not family friendly, as you guys chase each other’s lips even though they’re already touching. The guys that were looking at you before definitely aren’t now.

You break apart from each other, reluctantly, but you both need to breathe. “That good enough?” You ask, moving your hands to grab onto his waist, clutching onto the tight black shirt he’s wearing.

“More than enough,” Luke immediately replies, pressing his forehead to yours, never quite getting enough of you. “Wanna go to my room?”

“Yeah,” you quickly answer, already grabbing his hand and turning around to leave.

This was just your kind of love, making each other wild and crazy for each other.

#luke hughes blurb #luke hughes x reader #lh43 #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes x you #luke hughes imagine #hockey imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #luke hughes #new jersey devils #nj devils #njd

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fluentmoviequoter · 2 days ago

Text

Anatomy of a Relationship

Requested Here!

Pairing: (established) Tim Bradford x fem!neurosurgeon!reader

Summary: When your friend comes over in the middle of the night to talk about guy problems, Tim finds out what your relationships really mean to you.

Warnings: brief angst, fluff, a Castle reference, Karah is loosely based on Regine from Living Single

Word Count: 1.8k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Rules/Info

“11.25 millimeters,” you read. “That’s not good.”

“What’s not good?” your best friend, Karah, whispers as she lays her hand on your shoulder.

“I just got an MRI with an 11.25-millimeter aneurysm attached to the basilar artery,” you answer. “What’s up?” you murmur, flipping the page.

“Nothing,” she sighs.

“That was convincing.”

“It’s not as important as a brain aneurysm.”

You set your clipboard on your desk and turn toward Karah, shaking your head as you smile at her. “Most things aren’t, but I’m sure I can manage it.”

Before Karah answers, your phone rings. You mouth an apology as you answer and say your name.

“Got it, on my way,” you assure before you end the call. As you gather your things, you tell Karah, “We will talk later. Promise.”

“Go save a life!”

“I have been looking everywhere for you!” you exclaim as you enter a supply closet.

Karah hums but doesn’t speak past the nail polish applicator held between her teeth.

“Pretty color,” you muse as you sit beside her on a gurney.

“Thanks,” she replies as she removes the applicator. “Want some?”

“Surgical board frowns upon painted nails,” you remind her.

“Hence, why I’m doing my toe-sies,” Karah singsongs. “What are you doing with Sergeant Bradford tonight?”

“As little as possible, I hope. What are you doing tonight? Another date with the mystery man?”

“Another date, yes. Mystery man, no.”

“What happened?”

“Have you ever watched a cartoon where the characters kiss and they just kinda…” Karah closes the nail polish and shoves her palms together in demonstration.

“Sure,” you answer, nodding. “The PG version with no emotion and no lips.”

“Yeah, that’s how he kissed.”

“Ugh.” You shiver for emphasis, and Karah nods emphatically.

“And his lips were chapped, too.”

“We can’t have anything in this life.”

Karah scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Right, because you have it so bad with a hot police officer.”

“A hot police officer who cancels dates weekly and has minimal emotional availability.”

“But you love him,” she reminds you.

“That I do. Look, I’ve got a consult call before I leave, but call me later, let me know how your date went, okay?”

“Will do. Enjoy your date, if it happens.”

You shove Karah gently as you slide off the gurney. Opening the door, you call, “Love you!” over your shoulder.

“Smooches!” she replies.

“Stop staring at me,” Tim demands as he locks your door.

“Answer the question!” you reply. “I can’t let you sleep here if you’re lying to me!”

“It’s fine.”

“Why? How do you know?”

Tim sighs and takes your face between his hands. “It’s fine,” he repeats.

You pout, pushing your lower lip out as you blink at him.

“My neighbor is watching Kojo, so it is fine if I stay tonight,” he assures you with a sigh.

Your brows furrow as you ask, “You asked your neighbor to watch Kojo? Presumptuous.”

“I… Never mind,” Tim murmurs, his hands still on your face.

“We should probably have some dessert,” you whisper, leaning into his touch. “Not like that, Tim, get your mind out of the gutter.”

Tim huffs a laugh, then kisses your forehead and drops his hands to your waist.

“Listen,” you request, not moving to get dessert. “Don’t take this the wrong way, I’m not asking you to make any big decisions or anything, but if you want to bring Kojo in the future, you can.”

“Thank you.”

“Although, he’d probably never want to leave because I’m nicer than you.”

Tim tightens his grip on your waist slowly, waiting until you grunt to smooth his palms against your shirt. He leans toward you, and you murmur, “Dessert can wait.”

Your front door clicks closed around midnight, and you sit up in bed. Tim shifts beside you but doesn’t wake as he rolls away. Soft footsteps pad down your hall, and you relax, recognizing the gait. Karah steps into your room with her hair pulled back messily and her cheeks red from scrubbing her makeup off.

“C’mon,” you invite her, patting the mattress.

Karah pulls back the comforter and sits beside you with a heavy sigh. You move closer to Tim and lay your hand on his back.

“Is it me?” Karah asks.

“I hope so, considering you’re in my bed,” you reply softly. “What’s going on? And don’t tell me nothing.”

“So, I went on a date with the vet, right? And the next day, he ghosts me. Then mystery man seems to be the one until we kiss and then there’s nothing there, no spark, no more mystery.”

“Tonight?”

“He wanted to move way too fast. Was I wrong for not wanting to? I mean, what if he was the one – or, at the least, the best I can get – and I ruined it because I asked him to slow down?”

“He wasn’t the one,” you assure her, wrapping her in a hug. “If he couldn’t respect that and made you uncomfortable, then he 100%, beyond a shadow of a doubt, was not the one. You’ll know when someone is the one or has a chance of being him.”

Karah looks over your shoulder at Tim’s back and asks, “Are you sure?”

With a smile, you promise, “I’m sure. When the right man comes along, things aren’t always comfortable, but you’re willing to fight to get back to that comfort.”

“Unless there isn’t a right man,” Karah adds, falling back against your pillow. “I try, I get out and date, but maybe it is just me.”

“Maybe.”

Karah’s eyes widen, and you argue, “Exactly. There is no way it’s you. There are nearly 4 million people living in Los Angeles, so what if you can’t find the one perfect person for you quickly?”

“That’s only 2 million men, and half of those are married or not interested. The pool is way down and I’ve been swimming.”

“49 people in every 10,000 have a brain aneurysm each year. Just because it’s a low number doesn’t mean I’m going to quit my job. The 30,000 people who have an aneurysm rupture every year wouldn’t have a neurosurgeon if we all thought like that.”

“I see your point,” Karah grumbles. “But I still hate it.”

“I get it. But maybe a break would clear out some of the wrong men.”

“How do I find what you have?”

“The way I did it? Pure luck. Besides, most of the cops we get in the hospital aren’t like this one.”

“Maybe I should call Rick and see if he’s still single.”

“Rick who let his ex-wife crash at his house and walk around half-naked while you were dating? I’m going to veto that option.”

“He was rich.”

“And a terrible person.”

You scoot back to sit against the headboard as Karah tells you more about what she’s feeling, and as the night goes on, you do your best friend duty and don’t notice that your hand strays to Tim every few minutes.

“Okay,” you interrupt after hours of talking. “We need a pick-me-up.”

“What?” Karah asks.

“Let’s go.”

You lead Karah out of your bed and into the kitchen. After placing your kettle on the stove to heat water, you unlock your phone and scroll through your music library until you find the perfect playlist. The Bluetooth speaker tucked under your upper cabinet plays the opening notes of 2000s pop before Kesha sings, “Hot and dangerous. If you’re one of us then roll with us.”

Karah gasps in excitement, then leans forward to do the handshake you made up during your first year working together. The music plays too loud for the early hour as you dance around the kitchen together, but you don’t care because it’s cheering Karah up, which is the goal. Each word makes you feel better, more upbeat, and ready to do anything and everything.

As the playlist moves forward to a Britney Spears song, you freeze. Tim stops between the end of the hall and the kitchen and looks from you to Karah and then back to you.

“Is this why I was so squished last night?” he asks.

You nod meekly, and he waves his hand at you as he moves toward the kettle and the cabinet where you keep your tea and coffee.

“Breakfast?” he asks.

“Please!” Karah answers.

“Yes,” you say as you dance past him. “Thank you.”

You turn the music down at the end of the song and ask Karah if she feels better.

“Mostly,” she admits. “Now I just need a guy who makes me feel like Hips Don’t Lie does. Sorry, Tim.”

“I’m not even here,” he encourages her. “And if I was, I wouldn’t get involved.”

You shrug and gesture for Karah to continue.

“There’s something I didn’t tell you yet,” she murmurs.

“Well now you have to.”

“I agreed to go on another date with Ryan, the guy from last night.”

“What?!” you exclaim. “Why?”

“He waited. I mean he made me feel awful for asking but he agreed.”

Tim turns and passes Karah a mug of coffee before he sets your favorite drink beside your hand. “Dump him,” he encourages. “He didn’t mean it, he’ll keep pushing and dishonesty of that kind almost always leads to a misdemeanor, minimum.”

You look at Tim with your brows raised, then agree, “He’s right. A guy like that will try to pressure into not waiting. Don’t let him make you do something you’re uncomfortable with for any reason.”

Karah’s phone buzzes, and she groans as she reads the message. “Jill called in sick again, so I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at the hospital?”

“If you’re lucky,” you tell her as you hug her. “And cancel on Ryan, or ghost him, but don’t see him again.”

“I will. Thanks, Tim!” she calls as she opens the door.

When you turn back toward Tim, he lays his palms on the counter and glares at you, but you can tell he’s hiding a smile.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a smile. “She needed to hear it from someone who wasn’t me.”

“Karah has a key. What would you do if one of my friends climbed into bed with us?” Tim inquires.

“Which friend?” you counter. “Because Lucy has a key to get in here too.”

Tim rolls his eyes and returns his attention to the food on the stove. “Make sure Karah leaves him and let me know if you need some help getting the message through to him.”

“Such a softie,” you muse as you raise your mug.

“What was that?” Tim challenges.

“I said will do, sir.”

Tim hums, so you stand and walk behind him. With your arms wrapped around his waist, you say, “I love you.”

“Then you’ll tell me how many people have a key to your door before I replace the lock.”

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford oneshot #tim bradford #the rookie x reader #the rookie abc #fem!reader #requests #hanna writes✯

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star-writes-sometimes · 1 day ago

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aftercare with fwb!thanos

c/w - aftercare so mentions of sex, drug use (marijuana), friends with benefits arrangement

—

thanos’ body weight slumps against you, his cool sweaty chest snugly against yours. his nose nudges against your neck and you can hear him catching his breath. your legs are shaking slightly but you relax as his hands run along your skin.

he kisses your neck and groans quietly in your ear, “fuck, dude, you’re so sexy.”

you laugh and turn your head to face him, “you just finished fucking me and now you’re calling me dude?”

thanos smirks and uses one hand to hold himself above you. his other hand caresses your cheek, “‘cause it’s true,” he says simply, leaning down to kiss you lazily, “you are very very sexy, dude.”

you slap his arm lightly and laugh more, “shut up.”

his smile widens and he kisses you again, deeper this time but still unrushed. you moan softly and lift your head slightly to meet his lips properly.

he pulls away from you and pushes your hair out of your face. he smiles fondly at you before kissing your forehead and getting out of bed.

with more space on the bed you stretch and groan at the burning in your thigh muscles. you sit up against the headboard and try to smooth your hair out with your fingers.

two months ago you would never even consider hanging out with him alone, and being in his bed hadn’t crossed your mind. the only reason you were sort of friends with him was because of how many mutual friends you had. plus, he was always willing to share his weed or whatever other drug he was trying that week.

so when you realised you had run out of bud and your usual dealer was out of town, you knew it would be easier to tolerate thanos for a couple of hours rather than try and convince a new dealer to sell to you.

you didn’t even have his number, but after asking your friend for it, you texted him and explained the problem. you asked if you could buy a few grams off him and he was eager to invite you over.

your plan was to just give him the money, get the weed and be on your merry way. but he asked you to come in, asked if you would join him for a couple cones before leaving. it wasn’t in your plan to be half naked on his couch, moaning loudly while his face was buried in between your thighs but it just seemed to be how the night was destined to go.

he didn’t make you pay for the weed and he didn't ask for anything in return. he just gave you a small baggie of weed and one of the best orgasms of your life, then kissed you on the cheek and sent you on your way.

but now two months have passed and it’s impossible to say you don’t plan this anymore. you like him, way more than you ever thought you would. he’s a great fuck buddy and a surprisingly good friend. he’s different when you were alone together in his apartment but even when you hang out with all your friends you don’t find him as annoying as you used to.

thanos wanders back in the room, wearing boxers and carrying a few things. he kneels on the bed next to you and grins, “miss me, baby?”

“what happened to ‘dude’?” you ask playfully.

he shrugs and uses some tissues to clean up the sticky mess between your thighs, “you could be my baby dude,” he throws the soiled tissues on the nightstand carelessly and hands you one of his oversized tshirts, “or my dude baby.”

you scrunch your nose up and slip the shirt on, “no, thanks.”

“aw, c’mon toots. you usually love my nicknames.”

“toots isn’t great either.”

he smirks and leans in close to you, cupping your cheek in his hand, “don’t worry i know what you like to be called,” he teases, kissing along your neck, “my pretty girl.”

your thighs clench ever so slightly reminding you of the burn radiating through them. you groan softly and pout up at him, “thanos.”

“i’m sorry,” he grins and pulls away from you, pecking your lips as he does, “i’ll stop.”

you roll your eyes and sit up a bit more, “you’re mean.”

he moves to be sitting against the headboard next to you. he grabs a joint from the nightstand and lights it up. he blows the smoke out languidly, “you love it though.”

you huff and snatch the joint from him for yourself. he just laughs and throws an arm around you, manhandling you so you are resting against him. he grabs the remote and puts a cartoon on as background noise.

you feel your body relax as you exhale and hand the joint back to him. you pull the blanket over both of you and snuggle into him. it’s peaceful like this. slow and sluggish in a way that makes you feel safe.

“now you’re being friendly,” he teases.

“shut up,” you whine.

“i love seeing you like this.”

“are you capable of being quiet?”

“still being mean to me but i know you love me.”

“says who.”

“well i don’t see you cuddling up to many people,” he says smugly and passes you the joint, “and you don’t like sharing joints.”

“well you’re the only person who has joint etiquette.”

“use all the excuses you want, princess, doesn’t change the facts.”

“you’re annoying. that’s a fact.”

“you didn’t have an excuse for the cuddling though. interesting.”

you stay silent for a moment, trying to think of an excuse. “you’re just comfy is all.”

“comfy?”

“yeah.”

he laughs and kisses your head. he pulls you impossibly closer to him, “that almost sounds like a compliment.”

you hum contently as he pulls you into an even comfier position. you take a long drag of the joint and give it back to him. “well. you’re not all bad.”

his smile grows wide and gasps dramatically, “well that is very high praise from you, baby.”

“yes, you should be very thankful.”

“i am.”

“good.”

it’s quiet for a few moments. thanos finishes the joint and discards the butt on the nightstand. his hands run along your skin, occasionally squeezing and pinching softly. it’s as if you are his own personal stress toy but you enjoy it, it’s comforting.

“stay the night?” he whispers, his hands stilling for a moment, “please.”

your body tenses up slightly at his request. even though you have done whatever this is over a dozen times now you haven’t stayed the night. you usually just share a couple smokes with him before ubering home.

but something about how soft this all is, how relaxed and peaceful he manages to make you feel has you nodding. you swear you can feel him relax even more as you nod and he kisses your forehead.

“good. i like having you here, princess,” he says with a grin, “you should stay forever.”

#thanos x reader #choi su bong x reader #squid game x reader #squid game

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del-thetiredwriter · 2 days ago

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Twisted Wonderland/ Otome AU

Warning: not really dark themes? Mentioned. Gn reader. English is not my first language.

Notes: it’s been a really long time since. I was going to post this as soon as finishing translating this but my mid-term exams were came up so I couldn’t post anything. Anyway I hope you like this post. I will post Octavinelle part as soon as I finish the translation.

Summary: : One day, you opened your eyes and found yourself in Twisted Wonderland. And the task the System gave you is to get one of the lead characters love meter to 100% by the end of the main story and reach their happy ending.

Part 1

Leona Kingscholar

Lonely , grumpy savanaclaw's dorm leader, second prince Leona Kingscholar. I can't say that your first official meeting with Leona will be very good, and the same goes for the percentage of your love meter. First of all, good luck, your job is very difficult. However, after the overblot incident, your job will be a little easier.

Leona does not trust anyone due to his nature and experiences. He is sure that you are approaching him for a reason he has difficulty guessing. He will do his best not to get attached to you. After all you will also prefer someone else compared to Leoana , who has always been the other option throughout his life. So please stay by his side when he tells you to get lost, because deep down he loves being with you. I would also like to point out that being by his side will increase your love meter a lot as he runs away from you.

With Leona, it usually happens when he uses you as a pillow and sleeps (sometimes you swear he doesn't sleep). But you try not to talk too much in this activity, because the last time he bit you because you nagged about being late for class and your friends waiting for you while he was taking a nap . Afterwards he threatened to bite you again (not too harshly) and eat you. Although this unexpected event increased Leona's love meter considerably, you understood the warning that day very clearly. Sometimes you two would play chess. And usually, let's say, you are the loser. Leona loves the facial expressions you make when you are trying to figure out his next move or when you are cornered and lose. He also shows the privilege of being a prince in the later stages of your relationship, both materially and emotionally.

Now let's come to Leona in dark mode. Leona is a possessive lover by nature. Although it bothers him when you spend time with others, he respects you, but she can enter dark mode, especially depending on how he learns about your friendship with Malleus Draconia. In fact, Leona is also aware of the existence of the system. Not talking to him about this system stuff or following someone else's route along with his route can again put him in dark mode. Leona in dark mode is quite possessive. He wants everyone to know that you belong to him. He even leaves clues that others can understand without you noticing. Leona is very cunning and intelligent. He knows that brute force is not enough to possess you completely. He acts like a perfect lover in your relationship. He monopolizes you financially and emotionally . He introduces you to his family on holidays. Even if you don't realize it, these meetings are called engagement meetings in the press. Farena is ready to do anything for his only brother.

Ruggie Bucchi

Laid-back yet cunning, Savanaclaw second year student Ruggie Bucchi. Dear player who chose the Ruggie route, first of all, if you want to increase your love meter, I should mention that a portion of your income will go to buying donuts for this hyena boy. Please adjust your income with him in mind. Everything else aside, it won't be that hard to be friends with Ruggie, but it will take a long time for him to fully trust you and increase his love meter. However, once you exceed that limit, your love meter will increase continuously.

Your time with Ruggie is usually spent eating meals together or listening to him complain about Leona. Listening to him, giggling while he complains... oh, you are really too much for Ruggie... Also, watching him in club activities will increase your love meter quite a bit. Now, I may have said at the beginning that a portion of your income will go to this hyena boy, but that doesn't mean he does nothing. Although he doesn't get gifts very often, this hyena boy saves money to buy you gifts on special occasions. Even though he can't spoil you right now, he promises himself that he will spoil you as he wants in the future.

Now let's talk about Ruggie in dark mode...Ruggie knows he's not the best. After all, your environment is full of people who are smarter, more talented, richer, and more handsome than him. What kind of relationship you have with these people doesn't matter to Ruggie in dark mode, what matters is that Ruggie is inadequate to them in many ways and that you might leave him because of his inadequacy. What if you find someone who can spoil you as you want? Someone who can give you the life you deserve...

At first, you don't notice anything, but the "suspicious accidents" that people around you experience make you realize what's going on quickly. Ruggie doesn't use his unique spell on you, meaning he doesn't use it to a certain extent, but this doesn't apply to others. I think you can get help from Leona when you start to suspect him.

If you don't put him in normal mode before it's too late, he won't hesitate to use his unique spell on you. Ruggie's only wish is to live a happy life with you, even if that means he has to make you his puppet...

Jack Howl

Looks tough on the outside but is actually quite caring, first-year Savaclaw student Jack Howl. Your love meter increases little by little after you meet Jack. This wolf boy really respects you a lot. After all, it is really respectable that you, who is non-magical and from another universe, can deal with so many things. Your friendship will progress in a short time with the right steps.

In your free time, you usually do sports together, forced by Jack. If you are not used to sports, I wish you luck. It will be quite difficult to keep up with Jack, but don't worry, there will be short breaks and motivational speeches and cheers from Jack that he thinks are motivating in his own way. This wolf boy does most of what you want, even if he doesn't want to show it. Even if he doesn't like it. Do you want to play with his wolf form? Okay, but only for 5 minutes. Do you want to stroke his tail? Okay, but don't take too long. Do you want to go shopping with him? Okay, but don't expect too much comment from him. Because when he asked you what you thought about the last outfit you tried on, he praised you in his own way and the store employees looked at you strangely. Even though Jack supports and praises you in everything, his praise can be a bit strange. Also, when you cheer for him or compliment him, don't be fooled even if he tells you that it’s unnecessary or that you're wrong. His tail shows how much he likes it. Jack may lie to you but his tail never does.

Jack has always respected your boundaries and still does. Even though his inner wolf side has completely different thoughts, he manages to control himself. However, if that dark wolf side of his loses control… oh boy. He changes from a gentlemanly man to a possessive, jealous, restrictive person. He questions everything you do. Why were you talking to that boy? Who is he? This can also lead to fights. If you can't get him to normal mode without his love meter going too high, it will debatable whether you'll get a very happy ending.

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