#single cot bed size

[urbanwoods56]

Best Deals on Single Cot Beds

A single cot bed is a versatile and essential piece of furniture for any bedroom, offering both comfort and practicality. When considering a single cot bed price, factors such as material, design, and additional features like storage come into play. A single cot typically measures around 3 feet in width and 6 feet in length, making it ideal for smaller rooms or guest accommodations. A single cot wooden option is particularly popular for its durability and classic aesthetic appeal.

[urbanwood02]

[frunishop]

The History and Evolution of Sleigh Beds

Sleigh beds are a type of bed with a distinctive curved headboard and footboard that resemble a sleigh or sled. They are typically made of wood and have a luxurious, elegant look. While sleigh beds are often associated with traditional or antique decor styles, there are many modern variations that incorporate sleeker designs and materials such as metal and leather.

The origins of the sleigh bed can be traced back to ancient Roman times when wealthy citizens would recline on couches that had curved headrests and footrests. These curved pieces were called "saccus," and they inspired the design of later sleigh beds.

In the 19th century, sleigh beds became popular in the United States and Europe as a luxurious and stylish alternative to traditional four-poster beds. The curved headboard and footboard were often adorned with intricate carvings and other decorative details, making sleigh beds a symbol of wealth and refinement.

Over time, sleigh beds have evolved to suit changing tastes and design trends. In the mid-20th century, for example, streamlined versions of sleigh beds were popularized by designers such as George Nelson and Charles and Ray Eames. These modern sleigh beds featured simple, clean lines and a minimalist aesthetic.

Today, sleigh beds continue to be a popular choice for those who want a statement piece for their bedroom. They are available in a wide variety of styles and materials, from classic wooden designs to more contemporary metal and leather versions. Many sleigh beds also feature practical features such as built-in storage or adjustable headboards. In conclusion, sleigh bed have a long and fascinating history that spans many centuries and cultures. While they have evolved over time to suit changing tastes and design trends, they remain a timeless and elegant choice for anyone looking to add a touch of luxury to their bedroom.

[jar-of-ectoplasm]

sleeping w/ the mercs [NOT LIKE THAT]

sorry the formatting is shit i made this on mobile 🫤

shitty headcanons abt the mercs rooms and ur guys’ sleeping arrangements hope u enjoy like and subscribe it’s rly long so it’s under the cut

scout:

-very very messy room

-but like he knows where all his shit is so whatever works for him

-his mattress is on the floor bro 💔 just kidding but his bed frame is pretty low to the ground so it might as well be

-he’s got a smaller bed and a single blanket so you both are gonna be cuddling whether you wanted to or not

-surprisingly soft sheets, he stole some of spy’s fancy silk ones so it’s pleasant

-always has a fan/AC unit going for the noise but his blanket is pretty thin so it’s colder than you’d probably prefer

-kicks a lot in his sleep so just be prepared 🤕

-doesn’t snore very loud but does drool a lot and he usually ends up laying his face on your chest/your head so you are gonna wake up a little soggy sorry 💔💔

-usually falls asleep around 11pm or midnight but does wake up at random hours of the early morning almost nightly before passing back out

-pretty much always wakes up before you, he goes on morning jogs everyday so if you’re up for it he’ll take you with him

-does like to surprise you with “breakfast” in bed (it’s dry cereal and a tiny carton of orange juice but he tried)

soldier:

-really REALLY plain room

-it’s a little eerie, everything is very clean and the walls are bare concrete bc the rooms at RED headquarters are basically prison cells

-the only decoration in his room is an american flag, his bedside table with a lamp and alarm clock and a little bald eagle stuffed animal the guys got him for christmas one year

-sleeps stiff as a board on his back so he isn’t the greatest cuddle buddy but will do so if you ask (he prefers spooning over anything else)

-he’s got a decently sized bed cause he’s a pretty big guy, so you’ve got room to move around

-his mattress is pretty hard though so it isn’t super comfortable but it’s better than the floor or some old military cot

-goes to bed at 10pm sharp every single night and wakes up at 5am for morning training and will try to get you to get up with him regardless of when you fell asleep

-if you don’t opt to get out of bed he does wake you up again with a plate of food (courtesy of engineer, soldier’s just the delivery guy)

pyro:

-probably the weirdest room out of everybody’s

-their bed is really nice, they’ve got a pillow top mattress and fuzzy blankets so it’s very soft but it’s overcrowded with some burnt looking stuffed animals and an insane amount of throw pillows

-the other decoration is really weird though don’t pay too much attention to it, it’s kinda creepy but it’s also pyro so 🤷🏻‍♀️

-doesn’t sleep in the flame-proof suit but they do sleep in onesie-esque pajamas

-doesn’t sleep in the mask either but they do use a sleeping mask and are usually face down in the pillows

-not the biggest cuddle person either but they aren’t above putting an arm around you or something similar

-always goes to sleep after you do and wakes up before you too

-they usually already have a cereal bar or some other sweet breakfast food on the nightside for you when you do wake up though

demo:

-THE MOST WELCOMING COZIEST ROOM THE IDEAL ROOMIE

-very warm, comforting room, he’s got a fuzzy rug put down and only uses lamps because the overhead light usually hurts his eye

-very large, very soft bed with warm blankets and soft pillows

-the pillows all have a faint smell of whiskey but whatever

-very much a cuddler, sober or not. he doesn’t move around much in his sleep and is a very heavy sleeper so once he’s out he’s out and you are stuck in that bed until he wakes up

-does snore but it isn’t obnoxious

-takes the eyepatch off and wears a bonnet to bed to protect his hair (he has multiple but his favorite one has his family’s tartan as the pattern)

-a night owl, he doesn’t get to sleep until 2-3am and usually wakes up the latest out of everybody (around 9-10am) and he will get pouty if you aren’t there when he wakes up

engineer:

-his room is basically an extension of his workshop, he’s got a desk crammed full of random bullshit and blueprints he hasn’t gotten around to testing yet

-doesn’t spend much time in his actual room, so aside from extra tools, spare parts and papers there isn’t much in there

-his bed is actually pretty comfortable but he hardly ever makes it out of his workshop before passing out for the night so he wouldn’t know 😒

-when he DOES go to bed in his room, he is a HUGE cuddler, he will not let you go under any circumstances

-does snore pretty loud but if you wake him up he’ll readjust himself so he snores less

-usually sleeps on his left side so you don’t accidentally roll onto his prosthetic hand and hurt yourself

-no matter what time he fell asleep the previous night, he always gets up at 6am and makes the team breakfast. he’ll let you sleep more while he’s cooking and surprise you with breakfast in bed (even though he does it everyday so it isn’t much of a surprise)

heavy:

-HUGE ASS BED

-like california king

-he’s obviously a big guy but he does move around a lot so he needs a bigger bed so he won’t fall off every night

-very very warm bedding, he brought most of his stuff from russia so it’s built to keep you warm

-has a little teddy bear his mother handmade for him when he was first born; it’s pretty worn and tattered but he brings it with him anywhere he lives

-does have a little padded box for sasha at the foot of his bed

-isn’t the biggest sleep cuddler but he does like to hold you beforehand. he doesn’t mind when you cuddle him in your sleep, though, so by all means pass out on his chest if you feel like it

-does some reading before he goes to sleep and is usually in bed by 9 or 10pm; wakes up at 5 every morning so soldier doesn’t have to do his morning routine alone

-likes waking you up around 7am so the two of you can have some light conversation with engie during breakfast

medic:

-sleeps on the operating table

-just kidding, but he usually ends up passing out on his desk rather than his room

-his room is very sterile; it kinda feels like a doctor’s office, it smells faintly of rubbing alcohol and is a little drafty so it’s usually pretty chilly

-has birdcages hanging from the ceiling, archimedes has a fancier one compared to the rest of his doves but he swears he isn’t playing favorites

-if you do manage to get him to leave the medbay he’s usually pretty delirious. he’s very affectionate when he’s tired so he’s definitely down for cuddling

-is kinda blind without his glasses so he keeps them on until the very last minute before he falls asleep

-likes to tell you stories of when he did have his medical license and when he lived in germany

-usually falls asleep with his back to you but when he wakes up he’s holding you to his chest

-usually wakes up at 5am as well and goes straight into taking care of his birds, he likes to whistle littles tunes to them so that may end up waking you as well

-almost never eats breakfast but he will be pestering you about it because he’s a hypocrite

sniper:

-well

-it’s a camper van

-it’s very cramped but he’s used to it just being him in there so he never really realized

-his bed folds up into the wall when he isn’t using it and he keeps his bedding folded next to it

-very used to living in much hotter climates, and even though it is new mexico it gets pretty cold at night so he’s usually shivering his ass off under a thin sheet

-is surprisingly clingy for someone so introverted and quiet, he claims it’s because you keep him warm but he’s also just a mushy guy in secret

-usually falls asleep watching some shitty DVD on his little portable dvd player he keeps on a counter next to his bed

-keeps his kukri hidden next to the mattress just in case

-very light sleeper and once he’s awake, he’s awake. poor guy barely ever gets any sleep because soldier is usually screaming outside the van 3 hours after he’s gotten to bed

-doesn’t eat breakfast, but he will make you a cup of coffee in the morning

spy:

-ugh

-bought all of his bedding and the mattress purely based on looks so it’s pretty surprising that it ended up being comfortable

-will not let anybody have their shoes on in his bedroom, you have to leave them in his smoking room if you wanna come in

-kinda like medic in the fact that he goes to bed not even looking at you but wakes up all over you. he is kind of an asshole about it being like “aw babe you literally think i’m irresistible even in your sleep” when HE’S the one that cuddled up to you

-keeps his butterfly knife under his pillow and a pistol in his bedside drawer

-always falls asleep after you and is always awake and out of bed by the time you get up

-he doesn’t eat engineer’s breakfast because he claims it’s “too filling and unhealthy to be eating that much as soon as you wake up” so he always makes a little french breakfast for himself

-he pretends like he doesn’t do anything for other people but he always makes a plate for you of whatever he makes himself and leaves it on his side of the bed with a cute little note for you

-will pretend like he has no idea what you’re talking about if you bring it up though

[bunnysbrainrot]

No Vacancy - Day One

Relationship: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader

Content: fluff, nothing spicier yet

Summary: Separated from Dean and Castiel, you and Sam are on your own. Now paired up, you spend a few days in a motel. The only problem? The last room available only has one bed.

A/N: shout-out to all the Sam lovers, this one’s for y’all (me included tbh) **forehead kiss**

————

“Well,” Sam said, his hands gripping the steering wheel, “I think this is literally the only motel in town.”

And he was right. The two of you had scoured the area for over an hour, driving block after block for any other place to stay. This lone motel was far from where you needed to be for the case, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“That’s what you get in a small town, I guess,” you reply, grabbing your backpack from the floor of the car. Of course, Dean couldn’t fathom letting the two of you borrow Baby, so you had to get another ride. Thankfully, Sam had his own car in the garage of the bunker, a newer one with polished leather seats yet less flashy than the Impala.

Sam parked the car and cut off the engine, letting out a sigh.

You looked at him, tilting your head in concern, “At least we can rest, now. We can shower up and turn in for the night.”

Sam nodded in relieved agreement - the past few days had worn you both thin, exhausted and in need of proper sleep. The two of you stepped out of the car, grabbed your duffles from the back seat, and walked to the lobby of the motel to rent your room.

The clerk at the desk was not a talker, the silence in the room feeling uncomfortably thick. Sam nodded to the man with a terse smile and guided you back outside.

“That guy definitely wants to go home,” joked Sam. At last, you reached room 115, your final spot for the day. You stretched your aching neck as Sam unlocked the door and stepped inside.

“Crap.”

“What is it?”

“I think we were given the wrong room,” Sam continued, stepping out of the room to let you peer inside. A single king sized bed sat against the wall, with no other place to sleep. You turned to Sam, who had already made his way back to the main office. You waited for him for a few moments, seeing him return with a remorseful look.

“What’s up?”

“That’s the only room left,” Sam explained, “you wanna stay here anyway? They didn’t have a cot, but we can figure something out.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously.

You waved dismissively, giving Sam an embarrassed smile, “Don’t worry, we’re both adults here. Sharing a room doesn’t bother me.”

Sam looked at you for a moment, contemplating the next step. He shrugged and opened the door to 115 again, leading you inside.

The room was small and sparsely furnished - just the bed, an armchair, and the TV sat on a minuscule set of drawers. You placed your bag down next to the lonesome armchair, and sat down to remove your shoes.

In front of you, Sam paced at the foot of the bed.

“They, uh… didn’t have a cot, so I’m not sure how you’d want to go about this.”

You kicked your boots to the side and glanced up at him.

“Scared of sharing a bed, Sam?”

If you were being honest, you were petrified of the idea. Ever since joining this self-proclaimed ‘Team Free Will’, Sam had been the one you’d gotten closest to. Before they took you in, you had been more reserved and quiet. A more nerdy type of person; Sam was the perfect guy to buddy up with. You both had a passion for research, to Dean’s dismay.

“So we finally have a chick on the team, and we get another nerd?” He had teased.

Despite Dean giving you shit for it, you had never felt more welcome into a group. There was a sense of purpose, a motivation to save people from monsters. With your help, the world would be a safer place for those unaware of what lurks in the shadows.

Bringing you back to reality, Sam cleared his throat.

“I’m not, I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You retorted, “And why would I be uncomfortable with you?”

He quipped, “I mean, how often have we been forced to share a bed?”

He had a point, and your brave façade of nonchalance wouldn’t last much longer. Sure, if you both kept to a side of the bed, fully clothed, it would leave the fewest issues. But the butterflies in your stomach told you that this may not be something you could handle easily.

Your mind raced back to a memory of a case three months back, out in Tennessee. It was another shapeshifter, and it was hard for Sam and Dean to gather intel about much of anything. It was Dean’s foolish idea to send you and Sam to question the local townsfolk, masked as a tourist couple to keep your anonymity to a maximum. That time spent with Sam opened your eyes to what you had been missing for a shamefully long time. Love, or at least what felt like it.

Although it had been an act, the sweet gestures Sam had to uphold for the charade won your heart. He opened each door for you, kissed your cheeks, held your hand, the whole nine. Everything he had done drove you wild. Except, the one thing he never did was press his lips to yours. It seemed like a sick game of Dean’s pairing you up like that. You made sure to give him shit for it, telling him how embarrassing it was to have two friends act like a couple. What Dean didn’t know was the secret gratefulness you had for his plan.

At one point Dean did suggest you liked Sam, to which you denied, fumbling over your words like an idiot. He had shrugged it off, but now you wondered if that interaction inspired him to cut you off from him and Castiel. You silently cursed that damn Winchester for it.

“Never, but it’s just for a couple nights, right? We’ll share ghost stories and braid each other’s hair. It’ll be fun,” you joked, having walked over to Sam and patting his arm.

You went to the bed and furiously fluffed each pillow - the ones in motels were notoriously limp. Next you shook out the blanket. You hated the way it stayed cold when it’d been pulled taught to the mattress all day. Of all fun facts about you, Sam found that the most endearing. He hadn’t told you before, but he’d always been keen on your quirks. Simply put, he loved that he wasn’t the ‘weird one’ anymore.

Getting comfortable on the bed, Sam flopped down, still fully dressed in those tough denim jeans and signature red flannel. Your eyes grazed over him as he closed his eyes from exhaustion. Your pajamas were in your duffel, so you fumbled for them before heading to the bathroom to change. The sound of the TV muffled against the door - it seemed to be one of those dramatic crime shows you and the brothers scoffed at.

Pajamas was a loose term for the oversized t-shirt and mid-thigh sleepshorts you wore to bed. If you were alone maybe you’d have worn far less. Sam had removed his shoes, at the very least. You dimmed the lamp in the corner of the room and settled onto the bed. Then that was it, the exhaustion of today had finally gotten to you. It took everything in you to not let your mind drift off to sleep.

“We gotta go into town tomorrow?” You asked Sam.

“Yeah,” his voice honeyed with a groggy softness, “we should talk to the families of the victims. Figure out if these really were ‘accidents’.”

“FBI? Police? Ooh, maybe church officials?”

Sam let out a breathy laugh at your joke, the husk of his voice reverberating through you. God, it could be absolute torture to be around him at times. When the stress of hunting melted away, and you two could be your real selves.

“Just FBI, Cas is on standby as our ‘supervisor’.”

You looked to him fully, “Cas is our supervisor? And Dean actually trusts he can do that? Cas doesn’t know the first thing about the FBI.”

“Eh, Dean thought it could be good for the ‘people skills’,” Sam replied, finally opening his eyes at turning his head to you. Suddenly the two feet between you felt like mere inches. Your breath caught in your throat; you couldn’t reply even if you tried, so you opted for a small smile. Sam countered it with one of his own - the flashy grin that melted your heart more each time.

“We’re gonna have to get up so early. I’m not too excited for that.”

Sam’s face softened, his voice lowering, “We should get some sleep, then. You good with that side of the bed?”

You nodded, rising out of bed to switch the lamp off. The light from the TV drew Sam’s sights to you, loosely shrouded by your shirt and shorts. His eyes raked over your bare legs, wandering up your thighs until your shorts stalled his imagination. Sam followed suit and stood, but walked to the bathroom with a handful of clothes plucked from his bag.

A moment later he returned to see you under the covers, hunched over from the cold. Whatever those shitty detectives said on the TV drowned out as you noticed Sam. Just then you realized you had never seen him wear anything but a suit or his regular garb. Even in boxer shorts and a black t-shirt, he managed to catch your eye.

He caught your eye contact and smiled once more, that familiar ache in your chest growing stronger. You reached over and lifted the covers for him, letting him settle on his side of the bed.

“Do you sleep with the TV on?” You asked softly.

“No, do you?”

You gave him a small laugh, closing your eyes, “Nope. Keeps me up too late.”

Sam smiled. A part of him was relieved that he could get some proper rest with you here. Dean had the habit of leaving the TV on, depriving him of countless hours of sleep.

Even though they were rare, Sam appreciated these moments alone with you. It was easy to be with you. It was easy to laugh, to open up, to ramble on about whatever lore he had obsessed over. He loved the way your eyebrows tugged together when you didn’t understand something, and the way you tried piecing words together before asking your questions.

The A.C. unit cranked on beside the bed, pumping freezing cold air on your back. You shivered, curling into yourself to keep the warmth in.

Sam’s eyebrows raised slightly, “Hey, are you cold? I can turn the A.C. off.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ll warm up in a minute,” you insisted. Sam sighed, knowing you wouldn’t say yes, and turned the unit off.

He quickly settled back into bed, letting out a shuddering exhale. You waited until he shifted under the covers to speak.

“You cold, too?”

“Maybe just a little bit.”

In the faint light of the TV you could make out his smile. A part of your mind drifted off to a place where that smile met you every day, lounging around in bed. Sam’s hands would run across your skin and tangle into your hair, pulling your mouth to his before making you breakfast.

The room dimmed as the television went silent. You and Sam shifted under the covers for a moment before getting fully comfortable, the silence of the room felt like a bated breath.

Sam broke it first, “These blankets don’t really do their job, do they?”

You replied to him, “Not a damn bit. It’s freezing in here.”

“You can, uh… move closer if you need to,” his voice wavered. The silhouette of his form moved to face you, dimly lit by the light from street lamps in the parking lot. You could make out his sharp cheekbones and the chestnut brown hair draped around his neck.

When another shiver won your body over you took the offer, moving closer to Sam until your arms touched. Now inches from one another like you’d wished, your mind went blank.

It took everything you had to remind yourself what this was, well, wasn’t. This wouldn’t be the lust-driven breakthrough you had hoped for. Nor would it be the time for Sam Winchester to take you the way you ached for. An awkward, strictly business sleeping situation.

You let your mind wander off, the waves of exhaustion turning into the gentle lull of sleep. You could’ve sworn you felt Sam’s arm wrap around your waist, keeping you warm.

————

By the time you woke up, Sam was still fast asleep. You had never seen him like this up close, with his eyes fluttered shut and breathing slowed. The image painted itself into your memory.

You were right, though, Sam had laid his arm over you. And now both had enveloped you close to his chest, rising and falling steadily against your ear. It took twenty more minutes for Sam to wake up.

He stirred until he noticed you flush against him, and he stilled completely. You wiggled in his grip to look up at him.

With a groggy smile you greeted him, “G’morning.”

“Hey,” he said, voice still thick with sleep, “sleep okay?”

You gave him a simple nod, regaining your composure. You scooted yourself away to give him the space that should’ve been there all night. Even though a part of you crumbled as you did, you padded out of bed to the bathroom.

“At least we know to turn off the A.C. tonight. Maybe a room with two beds will open up while we’re out, and we can switch.”

Sam opened his mouth to speak before you closed the bathroom door. What he was going to say escaped him.

He just hoped no other rooms opened up before the evening.

Thank you for your support, everyone! Day two will be here soon

- Bunny

[ihavemanyhusbands]

The Assassin's Apprentice

PART ONE: RELUCTANCE

Mini-Series Masterlist

Also on AO3

Pairing: Duncan Vizla x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.6k words

Summary: A reluctant mentor gets assigned a reluctant apprentice to learn the ropes of the hitman business... Eventually. The result? Various situations for them to bond and play nice with each other, even if it's not always easy.

Warnings: one bed trope wahooooo, sort of implied mutual pining, assassin!reader (in training), swearing, lots of tension, slight power imbalance, eventual smut, beginnings of fluff, eventual angst, slight age gap (reader is in her 20s), smoking, and I think that's it right now but lmk if anything else!

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

“How long until we’re there?” You asked, glancing over at him.

He glanced back at you with a raised eyebrow. “We’ll get there when we get there.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms and turning back to the passenger side window. You tried to discern anything in the endless darkness of the highway, but you couldn’t see beyond the occasional road sign illuminated by the truck’s headlights.

You’d been on the road for hours, with no real idea of where, or when, Duncan — the so-called mentor you’d been paired with — was planning to stop. Your next assignment was somewhere in the midwest, between Illinois and Indiana, but he’d kept most of the other details to himself. 

You weren’t sure how he expected you to learn anything about the business if he wasn’t willing to share what he knew. You could barely even call him a teacher, really, but you found it was more due to willful negligence rather than outright incompetence. If anything, you’d think it would help the mentorship end faster, especially since you knew he was just as unhappy being stuck with an apprentice.

You’d only been working together for a couple of months, but you didn’t feel like you’d progressed all that much. Sure, you were getting a much better handle on weaponry, but you still had a long way to go. Guns were especially difficult, but that was yet another lesson he had neglected to teach you. 

Still, there was a small part of you that didn’t want to call the agency about a replacement. At least, you had gotten to know him enough to predict his moods and some of the decisions he took. Starting over again with someone new just seemed too tedious at that point. 

It was as they said, after all, better the devil you know than the one you don’t…

You sighed, wishing you could just go to sleep and forget everything for a few hours. Finally, as if your silent prayers were being answered, he pulled off the road into the parking lot of a dingy-looking motel. Surprisingly, it was relatively full, but there was a vacant spot right in front of the main office that Duncan pulled into.

“Let me do the talking,” he said, switching off the ignition. 

You rolled your eyes. “What, you don’t trust me not to give us away or something?”

“No, but I don’t want any sort of unnecessary back and forth, like right now,” he said pointedly. “We’ll take whatever room they have, we’ll sleep for a few hours, and we’ll leave early in the morning. That’s it, nothing more to it. You understand?”

“Whatever,” you muttered under your breath, following him to the main office. 

The reception had a rustic feel to it, with sparse decorations that had probably not been changed since the eighties. A small, old TV was playing Jeopardy, the voices indistinct and low. You hung back and pretended to leaf through some old pamphlets while Duncan went to speak to the manager, an old man who had been dozing off in his chair before you entered.

The manager looked through his yellowed logbook and smiled with what seemed to be relief.

“You’re in luck, this is our last room available,” he said.

“Two beds?” Duncan asked.

He shook his head. “Just a single, king-sized bed.”

At this, you couldn’t help yourself — your head snapped up in horror, eyes wide. “But you have extra cots, right?”

“Unfortunately, we are currently out of them. We have some larger families staying here right now.”

Duncan shot you a warning glare over his shoulder and you pursed your lips. You nodded tightly at the manager, who was confused at your slight distress. 

“I-is that alright with you? I’m sorry I can’t do more,” he said, eyeing Duncan, clearly intimidated by his size.

“It’s fine, we’ll take it. How much?” Duncan said, his voice starting to become haggard with exhaustion, and took out his wallet.

“Forty-five.”

He handed him the cash and practically snatched up the key. He jerked his head towards the door so you’d follow suit and you left the pamphlets back where you’d found them. 

“Room eighteen, at the other end of the lot!” The manager called out as the two of you were halfway out the door. 

You shot him an apologetic glance and mouthed a quick thank you before closing the door, the bell overhead jingling. 

Outside, Duncan immediately lit a cigarette and exhaled a plume of smoke. You gathered what little belongings you’d brought from the truck and followed him toward the room, silently cursing your luck. 

Your mind was racing with possibilities, but the one that kept coming up was making him sleep on the floor. It was only polite, after all, but you doubted he’d give in without a fight… If he gave in at all. Another option was to sleep on the floor yourself, but the consequences would not be pretty for him in the morning. 

You were struggling to come up with much else, but sleeping in the same bed was absolutely unthinkable. You wouldn’t even consider it. But still, heat traitorously crawled to your cheeks at the thought.

When you got close enough, you had to shake yourself out of your thoughts as he tossed the key at you. You barely caught it, blinking in surprise, but then you shoved past him with a huff. Dickhead.

“I’m gonna finish this,” he said, referring to his cigarette. 

Wordlessly, you shut the door behind you and dropped your bag on the bed, irritation still looming like a dark cloud over you. Before you could really think about it, you grabbed some sleep clothes and locked yourself in the bathroom to shower. 

The hot stream of water did seem to help ease some of your tension, and so you lingered for perhaps a little too long. You scrubbed thoroughly to wash the long day off of you, trying not to think of what would come next. 

What you didn’t know was that outside, Duncan had lit another cigarette, plagued with his own spiraling thoughts. He could never have predicted the day would end the way it did, and that threw him for a loop. Feelings he so carefully concealed warred inside him. He was not totally put off by the idea of sharing the bed, but he certainly would prefer not to. At least, not then.

He was already on edge from your biting remarks and scathing looks, but he wondered if that flame inside of you ever flickered with other emotions. Or if it was even possible, but perhaps he was just projecting. He was not the most patient of men, and he certainly did not know how to take care of – much less guide – someone. He’d always worked alone, and that was a fate he’d accepted long ago.

But then, there was you, shaking him out of his routine and somehow coaxing him into a state that seemed more present. Like he was finally disengaging autopilot, the days no longer blending into each other. Even if things were not necessarily smooth between the two of you. 

You took your time toweling off and getting dressed, too, just stalling for a little bit longer. Then you heard insistent knocking that immediately broke through your serenity. With another annoyed huff, you stomped over to the front door and yanked it open.

Duncan shouldered his way in, giving you a quick glance over that you chose to ignore. For a moment, you both stood there, unsure of how to proceed. You opened your mouth to say something, but he beat you to it.

“You can take the bed,” he said gruffly, deciding as soon as he saw you.

You gaped at him, stupefied. You had been braced for an argument, almost eager to defend yourself. But this was the first time since you’d met him that he’d truly taken you by surprise.

You relaxed your posture, clearing your throat as you looked away.

“Are you, um, sure?” You asked mostly out of politeness.

“Yes,” he said.

You nodded slowly, reluctantly muttering, “Thank you.” 

“What was that?”

“I said thank you,” you said louder, your jaw clenching.

He smiled a little in satisfaction, a teasing edge to it. “Nice to know you still have some manners, after all.”

You frowned, glaring up at him as you sat on the edge of the bed.

“I could say the same to you, what with you suddenly being so generous.” 

He grunted in response, which could be taken as a touché. You tossed him a pillow and the thin extra blanket that was folded over the comforter.

“I’m exhausted, so I’d advise you not to test me anymore tonight,” you said, sliding under the blankets. 

“Or what?” He raised an eyebrow in challenge.

You held his gaze pointedly. “Do you really want to find out?”

He shook his head, observing you for a moment longer before he let out an amused huff.

“That smart mouth of yours will get you in a lot of trouble someday. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, not the first time I’ve heard that. Doubt it’s gonna be you that does anything about it, though.”

He let out a wry chuckle. “Oh, yes. When trouble comes knocking, I’ll steer clear.”

With that, he dropped what you’d thrown at him and went into the bathroom to shower as well. You pressed your pillow over your face and let out a long groan. He really knew how to push your buttons, but it was especially frustrating that you didn’t think anyone had ever affected you in such a way before.

You pulled the covers up to your chin and turned away from the door, grumbling to yourself. But as you listened to the muffled sound of the water running, exhaustion got the best of you and you drifted into sleep without realizing it.

When Duncan was done, he saw your prone form and tried his best to tiptoe around the room so as not to wake you. He peeked over the side and found himself smiling softly upon seeing your serene expression, which was a rare sight. 

The life you had signed up for was not an easy one, he knew that well. Perhaps he was stalling because he wanted to spare you the worst parts for a little while longer — the loneliness, the constant paranoia and vigilance, the lack of trust.  

Or perhaps he liked having some company a little too much. Even if you always seemed to be ready to chew his head off, he still enjoyed having someone with him on all his travels. The lack of silence was a welcome reprieve.

He slept shallowly for a few hours, but he was woken up by the sound of your shuddering breaths. You’d been woken up by the cold that had crept in as night reached its darkest point, the measly motel sheets too thin for you to generate heat properly. 

He heard you tip-toe towards the heater, cursing under your breath when you realized it was broken. You realized you’d left your jacket in the truck, as well, but you wouldn’t dare venture out there into the freezing night for it. You wanted to punch something in frustration, but you clenched your fists tightly instead.

He shifted on the floor, looking up at your silhouette. “Trouble sleeping?” 

“Aren’t you freezing?” You asked, teeth chattering slightly.

“A little,” he said, already used to finding ways of maintaining body heat.

You stood there for a moment, trying to rub warmth onto your arms. A part of you already knew the solution to your problem, but you didn’t want to voice it. You didn’t think he’d let you live it down if you did.

And yet, he was the one to speak up.

“Do you want me to…?” He trailed off.

The word no was immediately on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. All you wanted was some goddamn rest for at least one night, and if you needed to sacrifice both your pride and your dignity for it… then you would deal with it when daylight came. 

You sighed heavily, resigned. “Not really, but also… yes?”

He stood up with a grunt, tossing his pillow and blanket back on the bed. His heavy footsteps thudded to the other side of it as you reluctantly slid back under the covers. His weight sank his side of the mattress as he lay down and you almost rolled into him.

Quickly, you scooted away as far away as possible, your back nearly hanging off the edge. 

“Alright just – stay on your side, okay? No funny business. I mean it,” you warned. “I’m not afraid to cut your fingers off if you try anything.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I don’t doubt it. But what if it’s you who tries something instead?”

“Oh, you wish,” you huffed, turning away from him. “Good night, Duncan.”

He hummed in response, smiling to himself as he settled on his back. Luckily for the both of you, his presence was enough for the bed to warm up properly. You fell back asleep without much more protest and in your unconscious state, you sought out more of his warmth. Your body inched close to his, and his body involuntarily found itself rolling to one side and enveloping you.

It was almost natural, the way you fit just right in his embrace. It was foolish to pretend you didn’t, in some subconscious way, expect to end up like that. Both of you slept more soundly than you had in a long time.

Early the next morning, when pale tendrils of light filtered in through the thin curtains, you began to wake up to find yourself flush against him. In your half conscious state, you hummed and nestled against him more comfortably, not quite wanting to get up yet. Then slowly, you began to remember just who was holding you. From there, more and more details started to sink in – the top of your head under his chin, your back against his chest, your butt pressed to his…

Your eyes popped open and you drove your elbow back into his chest. With a groan, his arms untangled from around you and you hastily wiggled away from him. He blinked up at you blearily as you glared down at him, noticing that his smell lingered on you. Your face felt like it was on fire. 

“What are you doing!? I told you to stay on your side!” You hissed, still reeling from shock and outrage. 

“I-I’m sorry, I just didn’t notice. Guess we slept pretty deeply,” he said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with one hand. “What time is it?”

He rolled onto his back and it was then that you noticed something bulging underneath the sheets. 

“Oh god… oh my god,” you whispered panickedly, quickly looking away even if the image had seared itself into your mind. “I, um, I don’t know, just get ready okay!? Please let’s just get the fuck out of here.”

He frowned for a moment, confused by your hysterics, but then he noticed his own predicament and tried to cover himself with one large hand. He found himself blushing a little, too, and he grabbed a pillow for extra measure. 

“U-um yes, yes, go ahead and use the bathroom first if you need,” he said. 

You didn’t need to be told twice, running inside and locking the door behind you. You looked at your wide-eyed reflection in the mirror and let out an exasperated breath. You internally cursed yourself for having been weak willed, even if for a moment. Sure, the rest had been worth it, but what about everything else? 

Well, maybe if neither of you mentioned it again, then it would be like it didn’t happen at all… right?

---------

[twola]

Lonesome Dove

If you want any one thing too badly, it's likely to turn out to be a disappointment.

Smut/MDNI ➵ Gift ficlet, Redbird universe ➵ AO3 Link

For my dearest @redwritr, whose words weave the tapestries hung in the hallways of my heart.

The room felt big; empty. It was almost cold, even with the fetid humidity of south Lemoyne. Everything was damp, a sheen of moisture that never left in the bayou. 

She came to him again tonight, a flash of red hair and the hint of that pretty little smile and the sway of her hips in those damn trousers - alluring and sensual even when she didn’t mean to be. The weight of a Springfield strapped ‘cross her back, the leather band parting her breasts in her shirt.

For the umpteenth time in months, Arthur wakes alone in his bed, in his cot, in his bedroll. Collarbone damp with the sheen of sweat and his cock annoyingly hard.

He’s thought about it, of course. Undoing the buttons of his union suit and coaxing his half-hearted erection alive, fucking into his hand thinking of her. But he’s done that before. Thought of a woman no longer his while he thrusts into his hand, the sorry bastard that he is. One would think he would have learned his lesson. 

Mary Linton’s dark eyes. Nell Riordan’s pink lips.

And Arthur Morgan, alone. As always. Probably deservedly so. A mean, terrible old bastard like him was never deserving of a woman - much less one that struck him down like a flash of lightning in the night.

Staring at the water-stained ceiling of the room, his cock throbs, half-hard, against his thigh, brushing against the worn cotton of his union suit. Sweat pools across his clavicles. Even in just his union suit, it’s too damn hot.

Why’re you even wearing that?

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to banish the lilt of her voice in his head. The teasing nature, the sly tone. But he heeds the unasked favor, in the dim light of the oil lamp in the corner of the room, he slowly works the union suit from his body. Down his arms, biceps sore from chopping wood earlier. Down his chest, his abdomen, his pelvis. 

As he pushes the cotton over his member, he stifles a groan working its way out of his chest. Once released, his cock smacks against his stomach, hard to the edge of painful.

She’d give him a sly look if she were here. She’d wrap her fingers around him and slowly stroke. As he grasps himself, he fully gives in to the fantasy, letting go of his battered pride for the night. It's all wrong, of course, his hands too big, and the calluses on his fingers are in the wrong spots. The one on her thumb - he remembers that, clear as day, as she would stroke and fondle him.

What a goddamn miserable fool he was. Letting out a long breath, Arthur’s fingers tighten around his shaft as he begins to pump himself, the head of his cock appearing from his foreskin. He grits his teeth, closing his eyes and imagining her - that flash of red hair, the allure of her skin, spread out next to him on this little bed.

She’d be ready for him, with a single swipe of his finger up her slit - she always is.

The outlaw stifles another groan as he lays his forearm across his eyes to block out any kind of light. Any kind of reminder of the truth - that he was alone in this bed, jerking himself off to a woman gone - one he loves, one he hates. One he left on a mountainside after he broke his damn heart.

One who still has his damn heart.

She’d fight back when he pushed her to the mattress, the spark of contest in her eye. Wouldn’t go down without a fight. He’d have to use just a bit more of the force he so oft wields outside. He’d hold her down, with a smirk.

He’s unabashedly jerking himself now, sitting up from his laying position to chase some sort of vision - some hazy dream just out of reach. 

But oh, she’d eventually give in.

Arthur leans up on his knees, gritting his teeth as his hips thrust forward, his cock swallowed by his fist pumping it faster and faster.

She’d be underneath him, making some wisecrack about the size of the bed but still opening those pretty legs for him.

It’s everything he has not to groan aloud, one hand right around his cock, pumping at a dizzying pace, the other gently squeezing his swollen balls, full and ready to spend.

Her breasts, heaving with every thrust he gives her. Her bottom lip is bitten red, trying to keep herself quiet as Dutch is just down the hall. Her legs over his shoulders and her eyes glazed over as he pounds her hips into the rickety bed.

The smacking sound of his wet palm on his shaft is unmistakable should someone walk by,  but he’s beyond the point of caring. He’s in another world entirely.

Fuck, the sight of his hard shaft disappearing into her cunt, wet and well-glossed with her slick after each stroke. The sight of the dark curls at the base of his cock intermingled with the pretty little auburn thatch of hair over her cunt. The clench of her body on his when she comes, a rapture as if she was a goddamn angel.

The feeling in the pit of his gut shifts, the burning bursting into flame, and he knows he’s approaching that point of no return.

He grunts under his breath-

She convulses around him-

His hips jut forward-

Her pretty little cry beneath him-

He’s so goddamn hard-

Arthur - she gasps - Come in me-

His eyes screw shut and his eyebrows furrow.

And he comes-

And he comes.

He spends all over his palm, emptying hot as his release seeps between his fingers. He lets a long breath out of his nose as he slowly sits back down from his knees, the sickening, roiling feeling in his gut returns with a vengeance.

Her whisper in the night - Do that to me again.

As he wipes his spend-covered hand on an old bandana and throws it to the floor in a flash of indignation, Arthur hates himself.

In the end, nothing’s changed.

He’s just a lonesome miserable bastard, fucking into his hand, dreaming of a woman no longer his.

[pandafishao3]

Hiya! It's me, Slash! I'm obsessed with the prompt you made that I sent you with Alpha Steve mating Omega Bucky to protect him and I wanna ask/prompt, does Steve finish his claim? 👀 Would love to see more of this prompt if you have some to spare ♥️

Of course! For you, anything :)

Here's the original prompt: link

And here's the continuation!

What confused Bucky the most was the Steve didn't finish his claim that first night.

Or the next night

Or the next night either.

He did make Bucky sleep in the same bed as him, but that wasn't strange. Bucky was his omega, and his new, possessive alpha would of course want him close. That strong arm of his didn't even leave Bucky's waist when they went into the communal rooms downstairs in the Avengers' Tower.

Not that they did that a lot. It made Bucky nervous. Being around those strange people...especially the ones that were always staring at him like he might start to throw knives at any second...it made the omega tremble.

And, to be completely honest, Bucky was just happy that he didn't have to sleep on the floor any longer. The bed they shared was big, warm and soft, better than anything Bucky could remember. Not even the very fleeting memories he had of a rickety cot in an apartment where some old, omega version of Steve flickered through in his memories like a shadow could compare to this king sized thing.

With a bed like that, Bucky could endure being held throughout the night by the alpha that had stolen him.

Because that was what Steve had done. He'd found him, bitten him and claimed him, and then Bucky had had no choice but to follow him away from Hydra. His home. It was his home, right?

Bucky had started to doubt that when he realized that everytime he thought of Hydra, he felt afraid that they would find him, and every time he thought of Steve, he thought of....well, that bed.

The first few nights, Bucky had been on high alert. Every muscle had been taut as a bowstring, and while Steve had snored content into his neck, the omega had noticed every single shift under the sheets. The alpha had grown hard three times during the night, and his dick had pushed up firmly against Bucky's ass, but he'd never tried to fuck him. A few times, Steve rutted slowly in his sleep, softly moaning as he got some friction against Bucky's borrowed boxers.

Those times, the omega had to bite his lip not to whimper. It had been fear at first - Bucky thought that surely this is the time when Steve would growl, pull down his underwear and shove his cock inside without waiting for Bucky to get wet.

But after a few nights, it had become something else. Those slow, firm, sleepy grindings into his ass had made his body...respond. Grow softer, needier...slicker.

After a week, Bucky was starting to grow impatient.

He also knew that as an omega - as a bitch - he had no right to be impatient. Why would his alpha want him anyway? He was a monster of an omega, an overgrown, muscled joke of a mate.

So, Bucky had started growing ansty. Even if he hadn't chosen this alpha, it still made him worried when it seemed that his alpha didn't want him.

Would Steve send him back to Hydra? Would he want this to be sexless relationship?

Did Bucky want it to be a relationship with sex?

The way his stomach grew tight and his hole grew slick whenever Steve grunted into his neck in his sleep and used him as something to rut against, Bucky figured he might actually want that. His body hadn't gotten what it needed in...a lifetime. He was overdue.

At least that's what he told himself when he finally lost it one night as Steve was giving him a bath.

It was one of those things his alpha insisted on doing for him. It was always gentle and slow, with lots of bubbles and a soapy, soft washcloth rubbing over Bucky's skin. It wasn't as if his tiny omega cock could harden into any kind of proper erection, but it still grew swollen and sensitive.

Very sensitive.

When Steve rubbed the washcloth over Bucky's tingling cock - very swift and matter-of-factly - the omega's hand shot out on instinct and curled around his wrist as he was moving to retract it.

"Buck?"

The question was kind; curious. Steve, who was sitting by the edge of the bathtub and could've easily traded his gentle touch to something rough and possessive whenever he wanted to, looked down at the hand and then back up at him with the hint of an amused smile.

Bucky blushed. A whimper escaped his throat, courtesy of his omega nature.

"I..." he started but trailed off. Words were always hard, and especially when he was embarassed.

But Bucky still couldn't let go of Steve's hand. His sex was throbbing and he needed to be touched, needed it so bad. There was no way he could find the words to ask, so he just let his body find the right little helpless noises to express it to the alpha.

After having repressed his natural sounds and behaviours for so long with Hydra, Bucky had no idea how many ways his body could non-verbally communicate on a level that an alpha just naturally understand. The fact that Steve had allowed him the space to actually act as an omega had caused those instincts to slowly return.

"Yeah? You like that?" Steve teased him softly, keeping his voice calm and low.

The washcloth slipped from his hand and sank to the bottom of the warm bathwater. Steve's hand was now cupping his little cock, making Bucky whimper even more needily with big eyes fixed on the alpha. The sensitive little thing felt hot, almost burning in Steve's grip.

Those white teeth showed when Steve smiled.

"Hmm? How about that, love?" he husked, softly squeezing over Bucky's genitals and making his breath hitch. Steve's blue eyes darkened just a bit. "Is that better? Right there?" Those long fingers slowly wandered over Bucky's swollen taint and found the slippery rim of his hole.

Bucky could've cried when two of them slipped inside.

*********************************************************************

Well I've tried to finish this two nights in a row now but I just can't find the time. SO I've decided to either post a part 2 of this as soon as I can write it or just compile it all into a oneshot for Ao3. I'll finish this though @slashtakemylife, you have the undying word of a writer with one working hand and too many deadlines :)

[uselessbard1031]

Snowflakes & Sunshine -- Sevika X Chem Baron! Reader (C1 Preview -- AO3 link at end)

You can hear your captive before you can see her. Three of your largest men drag her into your hideout, yet still she is grunting and growling as she tries to fight them off. All the theatrics. Sevika really did live up to her reputation, now didn't she?

You tuck the book you were reading away into the built-in wood shelves of your basement hovel just in time for the twins (Ratchet and Clank) to shove her forward and remove the blindfold from her grey eyes. Your captive stops fighting, instead glaring at every shadow and corner, daring it to attack. As she takes in the room, you pour yourself a cup of tea from the kettle on your single burner stove. It sits between your cot of a bed and the entrance to your bathroom. After that, it's your desk and the bookshelf along with an old five time hand-me-down loveseat in desperate need of a reupholster. The buttons on the tufts don't match and two have popped straight off. But it was here when you got here and was comfortable enough for a seat.

“What is this dump?” Sevika scoffs. Some of the hair from her half-back ponytail falls in front of her eyes. She blows it back the way a bull does before it charges. 

“My office,” you respond simply, leaning against the front of your old wooden desk. “It's where you'll be staying until your boss pays up. You're free to explore the other rooms too, once you cool off a little.”

“No locks?” She half scoffs half laughs. “No chains?”

“Unless you try to leave or attack me, I don't find them necessary.”

With a disbelieving -- no, challenging -- grin the woman turns for the door instantly.

“Do you want locks and chains?” You sip your tea. “Kinky.”

“You can't stop me,” she says it like a fact. Which it is. She's easily twice your size. A fight is unlikely to go in your favour. Good thing you don't plan to fight.

“No,” you agree. “But Brutus can. Brutus?” The burly man comes in from the hallway to block the door. To block her path. If he were to enter your room, he'd have to duck. And bend his knees. And maybe squeeze his shoulders together too. Good thing he's not entering yet. “If she tries to leave, chain her up. I think she likes it.”

Sevika turns. She can't face him. But she can more than face you. 

“You don't know who you're messing with here,” she warns. How cliche. “Silco has a lot on his plate right now. The last thing he needs is to be wasting time with some nobodies so cowardly they had to jump me to get me here.”

Silco needs her. Hopefully more than he needs is attention to be elsewhere. He won't fight you. No. Like she said, you're nobodies. Fringe at best in the chem baron game. So he won't waste the men or the time. He wants Sevika back? He'll just pay you off. Deal with you later. If he feels like he can crush your forces without trying, then he'll leave you in the palm of his hand for now -- if only not to strain his wrist with the fist he'd need to make to end you. Besides, he's focused on Jinx. You had it on good authority that the girl's favourite holiday was the one coming up. Even better authority said that your gift to her was about to arrive. 

You crack a smirk. “You’re just a ray of optimism, Sunshine.” 

She growls at the nickname. You laugh, pushing yourself off of the desk.

“Get cozy,” you say, patting her cheek. She jerks her head away, a threat in the way she bares her teeth. “I think there's going to be snow for Christmas.”

There is indeed snow for Christmas. Of course there is. And it's all thanks to you. 

You see, Zaun hasn't seen snow for the last decade and a half due to this obnoxious Piltovian factory built right above the promenade level. It's wide and flat and pumps all of its smog and runoff down to your city. Between it and the bridge, about three quarters of Zaun has had only the rain of pollutants in all this time. Someone had to blow it up. With the workers on a union strike far away and safe from the crossfire? That someone became you.

The explosion is enough to rattle down the valley walls of the city and wake every alleycat and drunkard left out on the streets. Snow falls at first in a big white sheet that covers everything from the ground to the rooftops. Then it doesn't stop; a flurry of soft white dots like horizontal stars in the window. Outside the main door of your hideout (a bookstore and cafe offering both free books and coffee on most days when your heart strings are pulled by someone hopeful but broke), it's like a small white step has appeared; one stair up closer to the opulence of those who live above. A few people leave their homes. At first, they're curious, then, rather swiftly, curiosity turns to wonder and awe and snowball fights and snow angels. For once, it'll be a white Chsirmas in Zaun. 

You notice Sevika looking out the window and have to chuckle. Though her tough girl mask attempts to cover it, there's this sparkle like a snowflake in her steel eyes. That childlike magic of a snow day beckons her the same as everyone else only, she fights it off with a stick.

“Brutus!” You call over your shoulder. The giant appears between two tall oak bookshelves. “Get the cocoa barrels from the basement. Make sure everyone's got a scarf and mittens. I'm taking our new pet outside.”

...Continued on Ao3

[covetyou]

is there any Santa/Cupid Joel lore you'd be willing to share?

it's a totally normal question i'm not unhealthily obsessed with him or anything

lore you say? I have baubles and stupid cupid lore. more in egg hunt at the end of March too.

word count: 722 warnings: sex toys, brotherly shenanigans, these two things are related but very much not in an incest way don't worry. summary: What started as a simple joke from the youngest Miller brother quickly turned into a... beloved brotherly tradition.

The first time he'd gotten one of those gifts it had been his birthday. He never got anything, from anyone, so when he opened his front door to see a present lying there with his name on it, he'd been wary. When he saw it was from Tommy, he was even more apprehensive. So, he did the only logical thing and left it in the garage until he could open it in a disposable coverall later that night, just in case.

Of course, he looked like a total dick stood in his garage in a coverall at midnight holding anal beads of all fucking things, staring at a chicken scratch of a note from his dearest fuckin' baby brother:

if you won't bring someone into your bedroom, maybe you gotta bring something. hbd brother.

Tommy may have been right, but Joel didn't think anal beads were that thing he was looking for. By the next afternoon, the beads were carefully hung from Tommy's rearview mirror.

And so began the long, tiring, tradition of gift giving and gift returning between the Miller brothers.

On Thanksgiving, Joel slipped Tommy a baggy of finger cots, giving him a heavy slap on the back and telling him he found his size. The next week, the tiny white condoms were neatly pulled over the ends of every single one of Joel's tools.

That Christmas Joel was the not-so-happy recipient of an edible chocolate Clone-a-Willy kit. He was almost tempted to try it out - to cast his cock in the tube just so he could take it out and look at it properly from every angle. He cast his middle finger instead, handing it to a gleeful Tommy on New Years Eve.

For Valentine's day, Joel damn near gave Tommy a heart attack, and ruined the end of what was, until that point, a very good date. He knew he should've kept it to the couch, but damn if his date didn't deserve the full Tommy Miller Experience. Apparently, that also included seeing the blow up sex doll tucked neatly into his bed. He never did hear back from her after that night.

Of course, what Joel didn't know is Tommy had stashed a pink heart shaped butt plug on his dresser, only noticing the thing weeks later when Sarah pointed it out before Joel could sweep it into a drawer and tell her to get going or she'd be late for school. Tommy groveled until Joel didn't quite want to kill him any more, and the butt plug lay forgotten in the bottom of his sock drawer.

Tommy's birthday brought him some vibrating nipple clamps - clamps that Joel never saw or heard about again, save for a thank you and a thumbs up from his brother one day on a job.

For his birthday that year, a full 365 days since this whole thing started, Joel received maybe the most baffling gift of all. A dildo for his balls. Apparently. Now, Joel wasn't a church going man - hadn't been since their parents had given up with it all when they were kids - but he couldn't help but think that maybe his brother needed Jesus.

This one, he was almost tempted to keep. Not that he had anyone to use it with, and it most definitely was not a solo use gift. He opened it, tried to figure it out, even watched the instructional video, before settling on sticking it on top of Tommy's Christmas tree at the end of the year.

But, when he pulled up outside Tommy's place on Christmas Eve it looked, and sounded, like he had company. Not one to cockblock his brother again (at least one of them was gettin' laid) Joel headed back home, toy hidden away in his Santa sack. It was still the right side of midnight when he drove down his street, noticing once again that house with the sparkling Christmas tree, totally bare of any decorations. One look to the back of his truck, ornaments from a house clearance still stashed in a box that he had yet to find a home for, and he made up his mind. Parking up and walking down the street, draped in red velvet with a bag filled with jangling plastic ornaments, he stepped up to your door...

[mixreality]

"Good girl"

My inner psychopath can't handle it anymore, so... there it is. English is not my native language! So sorry for mistakes!

Asa Emory with Fem!Reader who becomes his little puppy.

A bit of NSFW in the end

You love animals so much! In your spare time, you work part-time as a dog walker. It was a sunny summer day when HE saw you walking in the park surrounded by several four-legged barking creatures, jumping around, asking to throw them a toy.

Your big eyes, your smile, and your pale (or dark), clear skin glowing in the sun. Perfect. A perfect one to his collection. He's been watching you for quite too long… It's time for the little dog to learn her place…

Asa would be mad at himself it if there was even a single mark on your beautiful body from his instruments or other stuff. So, instead of intravenous anesthesia, he has to make do with a chloroform rag that was securely fixed on your face while you slept in your room. I hope you had a good night's sleep on the way to your new "home".

A nasty white, cold light stabs you sharply in the eyes. Surprisingly, you're not sitting like Gollum in a cramped box, but lying on a creaky bed. The room looks like a mental ward… or a prison.

You want to look around and try to open the door, but something is in your way. Something cold and heavy around your neck. "A collar?! What am I, a dog?!". Right when you thought about it, the door opened with a terrible creak and a masked man entered the room. Your face read animal fear, tears began to flow from your eyes, your voice trembled and begged for mercy.

Asa slowly came closer and closer, viewing you with a kind of… pity? Salty tears leave ugly red marks on your soft skin. So bad. They need to be wiped away. He runs his palm over your cheeks, stroking your face, so caring. At this moment, you feel weirdly…

You cannot remember, how you found yourself walking down an endless halls on all fours, with a chain around your neck like a leash. How long have you been walking like that? Judging by the chafing kneepads, it's been three months for sure, maybe more. Your Stockholm syndrome is kicking in.

And, after some more time, the abandoned building is replaced by a warm house. HIS house. You're used to being treated like a dog, no, you LIKE being treated like dog. You still walk around on all fours, with a leather collar and a gag in your mouth. Good girls should be quiet.

You now have your own little comfy place with a huge cot and a cage (in case you misbehave), somewhere in the furthest room that hardly anyone goes into. When Asa is in the mood, he lets you sit at his legs while he works, or lie on him on the couch. Amazingly, his ruthlessness disappears when you're around (this doesn't negate the fact of the situation you're in).

Clothes? Why do you need clothes? A big black t-shirt and black panties and an anal plug with a tail will suffice. He likes to see your legs and the way you wiggle your ass when you walk, the way your back sags. Asa can give you a sweater if he sees you freezing (sorry, but he doesn't want to have to deal with your fever and snot😢).

"What? Don't you get enough attention? Making puppy eyes because you want more?" with those words, Asa watched you rub against his leg and whimper. "God, what am I doing?" you say to yourself, but you can't stop. Continuing to stroke your head, he unzipped his pants and pulled out his, already aroused cock. It's medium-sized, slightly thickened in the middle, with veins at the base, looking well-groomed (who'd doubt it).

"Lick it. Like a dog. And no hands." It's exciting, but you asked for it. You start at the tip, with the tip of your tongue, in intermittent motions, as if lapping up water. The longer this went on, the more confident you became just licking his cock from base to end. All the way up and down. Running your tongue along every vein. Congratulations, you really have a jaw of steel!

You've lost track of time from the pleasure. Asa's breath hitches slightly, you realize he's about to cum. Yes, your mouth and face are now covered with his seed.

"Oh, look at you, and don't say it's not enough for you. Otherwise, I'll have to punish you, very roughly." Yes. Yes, you're not enough and you want him to take you. Hard. Right now. Bad girl.

[whiskeynwriting]

Yeaaaaah imma need more Simon x Bones content (if you’re willing, of course!) 🥵 The dynamic you created between the two characters is just ✨chefs kiss✨

Ahhh thank you so much my love!! <3 I very much enjoy writing them 🥰

Come Find Me

Simon “Ghost” Riley x OFC “Bones” 

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Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Dirty talk, size kink, praise kink-ish, oral (f receiving), somnophilia (kind of?), established relationship, fluffiessss

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A/N: Full version is here! Ghost is a tits man, you literally can't change my mind about this.

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Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

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Warm and firm, the weight crushing, yet comforting. There’s the smell of fresh pine, bergamot, the small chill of his chain. It causes a shiver to roll through your body, one you settle into. The bulk of his biceps cage you in, arms snuggled between your back and the mattress. The moment is private and above all, intimate. He’s resting on you, his head turned to the side so his cheek can rest on your chest, right between your breasts. And you welcome it, him and his positioning, legs opened slightly with his pelvis laying between them. Your own arms are around him, too, holding his hulking body above you. 

“How was the mission?” You ask quietly, body consumed by the tenderness of it all. Your hand is smoothing over the back of his head, caressing him. 

“Long.” Is all he says, holding you just a little tighter in those gorgeously sculpted arms. 

And then he groans. It’s a small, happy sound, made as he nuzzles further in. Yeah, he really did miss you.

Right now, on top of being completely at ease, you’re both wondering why the hell you haven’t done this before. Not only are Simon’s quarters smaller, but they’re colder, too, and not just physically. 

The air in the barracks is stiff and unwelcoming. But here, it’s warm, comfortable and inviting. Your space is much bigger than his, being that you’re on base far more often than him. Simon also didn’t prefer to have much in his room, easier to keep clean, he says. But honestly, he’s loving your fairly decorated space. Everything just seems… nicer. Your bed is full in size, opposed to his single-style military issued cot. It’s also softer, has more pillows and blankets, too. There’s also better lighting, you even have a window in here. But it’s closed with the curtains drawn, shutting out the night. To top it all off, you have a mini fridge and a small stash of snacks on the shelf above your desk. He’d kill for that. 

In the quiet lull surrounding you, Simon releases a warm breath over your skin, you’re just in your bra and shorts beneath him. Rubbing his cheek slightly across your chest, he gives the curve of your tit a tender kiss before snuggling in again. 

“Simon?”

“Mm?” He grumbles in response, his mask pulled barely above his lips. 

“I missed you.” You’re cooing to him like he’s a precious baby, and deep inside, he fucking loves it. He loves how caring you are. He’s never been cared for like this. 

Simon has opened up quite significantly since the start of your relationship. And still, nobody knows about it, not even Soap or Price. It’s not necessarily forbidden for the two of you to do this, but you both think it would be frowned upon. Ghost should be focused on his work, and you on yours. But neither of your performances have faltered since the start of this, so, why end it? 

As soon as he returned from their most recent mission, Simon found you. Just like before. But instead of dragging you to his barracks, you suggested your own room. You were less likely to be caught there. So, after showering up, he walked to C-Block, coming up with a multitude of excuses in the case that he’s seen. But he wasn’t, you were right. This block is empty as hell, especially at night. Not many people stay at the base, only essential workers for the team. The only people occupying the other rooms in C-Block were mainly janitors and the occasional assistant nurse. 

“Wasn’t gone that long, love.” He chastises gently, smirking. 

He’s right, he was only gone for a week. But still, you missed him; how could you not? 

“Does that mean you didn’t miss me?” You tease in response, grinning in the near-darkness of your room.

He hums, chuckling. You’re baiting him, and you’re winning. “I did.” 

During the mission, he thought about you, mainly when he went to bed. He tried to keep you out of his head during the day - otherwise it’d get him killed. But on your end, you thought about him all day, while you worked, while you ate, while you bathed. It’s like you ached for him, and you’re so thankful he’s back again. 

Every time they came back from a mission, they got the next day off. Meaning, Simon doesn’t have a strict bedtime tonight, nor an early wakeup call tomorrow. This is the best time for you to enjoy each other’s company. And even though he’s got the night off, and the following day, all he wanted to do was lay down with you. He’s exhausted, physically and mentally drained. And even though he’d never admit it… he wanted to be held by you. He wanted to be close to your body. 

With the blanket pulled over Simon’s large frame, your hands caressing his back, he releases a contented breath. Turning his head, he kisses your breast again, slowly laying his tongue over it. It makes you moan quietly, happily, the warm, wet feeling of it. And when he feels your fingernails drag lightly across his naked back, he grins, licking your curves again. 

“Baby…” It’s a small sigh, lolling your head to the side as you glance down at him. 

“Hm…” He groans slightly, releasing a breath. And then, he leans in, giving your covered, pebbled nipple a delicate kiss. 

Coming home to you feels… good. Good in a way he almost can’t describe. It makes him hopeful about life, you give him something to look forward to. And in the midst of this, he finds his chest tightening with emotion, that smile continuing to tug at his lips. 

“Come here,” He grumbles in that thick, baritone voice. “Closer to me.” 

It’s quiet and calm in your space, his movements reflecting the mood. He’s slow with it, thick fingers wrapping around the edge of your bra. Gently, yet firmly, he tugs it down, freeing your breasts, and you gasp. Lifting his head, his cheek slides over them, nudging the softness of your flesh with his face. 

His one hand slides along your side, finding your waist and squeezing lightly. He truly loves your body, absolutely mesmerized by your tits. Since the two of you started… whatever this is, he’d thought about all the things he could do to you, all the things you could do to him. Unfortunately, there wasn’t always time in the day for things like that. But right now, he’s reveling in this moment, in the night he now has to spare.

“Gorgeous, B.” Simon grunts, gently sucking your nipple into his mouth. 

Now, you moan fully, arching ever so slightly into his touch. Simon always seemed to love your breasts, ever since he got to see them, got to touch them, got to lick on suck on them. 

“Baby…” Cradling his head against you feels different when he’s in your bed. But regardless of where you are, you’re still able to feel how incredibly large he is. His body is dwarfing yours, caging you in and making you feel small and secure.

Laying his tongue out, he runs it over the slope of your breasts, dipping into the valley between them. His mouth suctions to the soft skin on the side of your boob, sucking a mark onto you. It made his insides stir with excitement, seeing you during the day and knowing his mark is resting just beneath the layers of your clothing. 

“Oh my god, I missed you.” Rutting up against him prompts his pelvis to grind down into you, his lips returning to your pointed peaks. 

“Yeah… I know you did.” He responds teasingly.

And his cheeky attitude doesn’t even phase you, because the motions of his mouth have become hungry, and he’s groaning, his humid breaths huffing out across your chest. You can practically feel the heat radiating from him, the muscles beneath his hot skin moving against you. He feels strong, keeping his weight in mind as he presses into you. 

He’s more than eager to have you again, but honestly, he’s not looking for a hard fuck. Right now, he’s yearning for a sweet sense of intimacy. He’d never ask for it, though, not verbally. But when he was gone, it’s all he thought about, holding you close in his bed, feeling your little limbs wrap around him again.

“Baby,” Comes that deep accent, his baritone voice. “Fuckin’ love doing this to you.” 

Only your table lamp is on, the one sitting atop your nightstand. And in this atmosphere of barely-there darkness, you grin. He’s never called you baby before. 

“I love when you do it.” Your voice is sweet and soft, just how he likes it. 

Something inside him stirs, feeling incredibly grateful for you. In the two times you’ve had him, it was clear to see that he wasn’t a selfish lover. He liked letting you know just how attractive you are to him, no matter the situation. And these thoughts prompt him to move down, mouth slowly sliding over your rib cage and belly. It makes your insides tingle, feeling him crawl down your body. 

“Wanna do somethin’ else, too.” He’s mumbling against you, his stubble just barely scratching your skin. And by now, he’s dry humping you, repeatedly rolling his hips into your pelvis. 

The way he’s touching you makes you moan, releasing an airy breath. Lightly, his teeth nip at your skin, tongue soothing the sting. You want to ask him what, baby? What else do you want to do? But he’s distracting you. 

“Wanna lay between your legs.” Jesus, you could listen to his voice for hours. It’s so sexy, the deep rumble of it. He’s mumbling over your skin, his eyes closed when says, “Wanna taste you again.” 

Naturally, his words make you perk up, lifting your head to stare down at him. The hand on your waist squeezes again, thumb brushing over your belly as he kisses it. He can feel its inhale, the push and pull of your breath. And when his lips meet your skin, his eyes lift, finding yours and sending a shock through your being.

“You want to… taste me?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” 

“Simon…” You’re rolling your eyes, but his words bring you right back to him. 

“Wanna eat that pretty little pussy.” He says it so easily, so casually. 

Simon’s only done this with you one time before, and the entire ordeal was pretty quick. But by the way he’s moving, by the way he’s talking, it’s like he wants to put his mouth on you and just keep it there. While he was gone, he thought of it constantly - going down on you, you going down on him. The ladder has yet to happen. He bets you’d be good at it, but he doesn’t know for sure. All he knows is that he is good at it, and he knows it because he’s made you cum before. He remembers your taste, your smell, how you wriggled beneath his arms and cried out for him.

“I’ll let you sleep, lovely.” He promises, his breath fanning over your chest. It smells like mint, clean and fresh. “I just want it, B, please.” And this shocks you; he’s never begged like this. “Can I?”

It’s grown late; originally, he got back to base around ten. But he still wanted to find you. It’s become an unspoken rule between the two of you. No matter when he returns, no matter how late or early it may be, he’ll come and find you. He knows you wouldn’t refuse. 

Your quiet voice speaks into the night, “Yes.”

Dropping his forehead onto your stomach, he groans. A quiet fuck leaves his lips, his body moving forward so he can kiss you. Bulging biceps hold his body up as he leans in, one of his hands sliding beneath your hair to hold the back of your head. The kiss isn’t brief, it’s deep, his tongue invading your space. It dives into your mouth, languidly and passionately rubbing over your own. It’s so easy for you to get him going, too easy, in his opinion. 

Sighing into his kiss, your hands slide down, holding either side of his mostly-hidden face. Rhythmically, his lips move against you, tongue allowing you to taste his spit. And the more he shoves it into your mouth, the more excited you become, eager to feel these same movements between your legs. As the two of you continue to grow close, you’ve noticed how much he likes kissing. And he’s rather good at it. 

“You want me to lick you, B?” Ghost asks hurriedly against your lips. “Want my tongue in your sweet pussy?” 

“Fuck, Simon.” Bringing him in, you urge him to press his forehead to your own. “Yes.”

Maybe it’s because he spends most of his time with his mouth covered, maybe that’s why he’s so eager to use it on you. It’s almost like he’s curious with it, wanting to experiment with you. 

Broad palms finding your hips, his fingers dipping past the hemline of your panties and shorts to pull them off in one go. He’s gentle with you, sliding them down your legs. And then he notices the uncomfortable position of your bra, reaching up to free you of this, too.

“You get cozy, love.” His voice is rough, gravely, his accent thick and wafting through the air. 

Sighing happily, you do as he says, relaxing your muscles and laying back for him. And while you begin to rest, Simon does the opposite. His body is becoming more aroused by the second, and his thoughts won’t stop running laps in his head. While he was gone, he thought about you… so much. Honestly, almost nothing else made its way into his head. Simon felt like he needed you, and that scared him. But in the same sense, thinking of you also comforted him. 

“Pretty…” He mumbles, kissing his way down the inside of your thigh. Settling on his stomach, he sighs, looping his arms beneath your legs, hands resting on your hips. 

“… fucking annoying?” You ask with a laugh, repeating his ongoing joke with you.

And it makes him chuckle, shaking his head. “Nah, not this time.”

Widening your legs for him, you reach for another pillow to support your head. You want to watch this. And with the extra support, you do, witnessing Simon’s gorgeous lips become wet with his tongue. 

With a heavy exhale, he’s leaning in, closing his eyes when his mouth meets your thigh. His fingertips curl into the meat at your hips when his teeth come out, nipping at you before his tongue swipes over your skin. Releasing a small moan, Simon begins to relax, his mouth languidly sucking on the sweet flesh of your thigh. 

“Gonna take my time with you.” 

“Baby…” Your hands are on his head, fingers sliding over the back of his mask. And he leans into your touch, humming from it. 

When he’s done leaving his first mark on you, he drags the point of his nose up your inner thigh, nuzzling it into the crease of your leg. Sliding his tongue out, he licks up this small valley, moving it over your labia. Your lips part when he does it, brows raising as he continues to lick you. An open-mouthed kiss is then placed directly on your center, his lips briefly sucking yours in. 

“Pretty,” He grumbles again, eyes remaining closed. Another kiss to your center, then another little lick. “Pretty baby… pretty ‘n pink…”

It makes you giggle; he’s really starting to let go around you. 

“You like when I call you names?” He asks, gently laying his tongue over your hooded clit.

Nodding, you grin, nibbling on the corner of your lip. And then, your hips jerk from the sensation, his tongue running over you again. “Yes.”

“Yeah,” He replies easily, cockily. “I know you do.”

“You think you know me so well, don’t you?”

“I know what you like,” Again, a quick and easy reply. “What makes you move.”

Okay, yeah. That’s true. But you’re not giving up that easily.

“So, what?”

And then he’s shoving his tongue into you, directly into your warm center. It makes you yelp quietly, moaning dramatically when he begins pumping it into you. 

“I’m gonna need you to stop talking.” Ghost says when he removes his mouth from you. Turning, he wipes his face off on your sensitive skin, kissing it before returning to your sex again. 

One of Simon’s broad hands slides up your side, fingertips curling around your right breast and squeezing lightly. 

“Fuck,” Groaning, you plop your head back. “You make it so hard to -” 

And then that same hand is on your mouth, covering it. “No talking.” 

For some reason, this makes your eyes roll back, sighing into his hand. The skin of his palm is rough but you love it, you love feeling the ruggedness of him. And it works in his favor, because you immediately stop talking. 

With his eyes closed, he mouths at you, siding his tongue up through your folds and using the tip of it to circle your clit. Keeping his hand on your mouth, he slides his thumb across your lower lip, the motion making you moan. Applying gentle pressure, you part your lips, allowing his thumb to slide in. Wrapping your mouth around it, you suck, one of your hands leaving his head to cup the breast he left. And while you suck on him, he sucks on you, just barely pulsating his mouth around your tiny nub. 

“Mm,” Helplessly, your hips buck up, eyes pinching shut while you moan around his thumb. 

“You like that?” He asks, keeping pressure on your tongue. 

All you do is nod, whining quietly and pushing your hips closer to his face. Grinning, he dives back in, wet tongue laying out over your sensitive skin. 

It feels so lewd and exciting and it makes your insides tingle, having him between your legs like this again. He’s so good at this, he’s fucking amazing at this. And it makes you wonder, how many women has he been with? But that thought flies out of your head when he takes his thumb out of your mouth, lowering it to himself. Licking the pad of it, briefly tasting your spit, he then rubs it over your clit, watching your hips buck from it. 

“Simon, please.”

“You’re supposed to be enjoyin’ this, remember? Supposed to be relaxing for me.”

While you’re whimpering from both frustration and agonzing arousal, his mouth finds your leg, sucking another mark into it. He keeps pressure on your sensitive clit, rubbing it gently but most certainly enough to stimulate it. 

“Just lay back, sweetness.” He urges, taking his thumb away once again. “Let me lick it.” 

“Oh, Simon.” Again, your head drops back, a fresh wave of arousal spilling from your lips. His voice, his words, they affect you so much.

Happy with your compliance, he sighs, releasing a cool breath directly over your sex. He watches your skin pebble from it, the muscles in your legs tightening ever so slightly around him. Using the strength in his hands, he lifts your legs, placing your knees on his shoulders with your calves resting on his back. Holding you in this position encases him between your thighs, his mouth now focusing directly on you. 

Both of your hands return to his head, fingers scraping along the black fabric. Accidentally, they pull up the back of it, but just barely. You expect Simon to freeze, to jerk away from your hold and scold you for it. But he doesn’t; he’s trusting you. With your heart racing inside your chest, you slide the mask back down so it’s completely covering the back of his head. And when you do it, he hums, a small sound of gratitude and approval. 

“Baby…” 

Lord, he loves when you call him that. It feels so soft and domestic, so sweet. Especially coming from you. 

“Mm… that’s it.” Mumbling over your sex, he groans. “It’s okay, sweets. You can be as loud as you want here.”

And he’s right. You’re sure no one will hear you, not in this block. With that realization, you feel yourself let go, a wanton moan slipping from your throat. 

“That’s it,” That particular sound riles him up quite a bit, his tongue diving into your pussy once again. “That’s more like it.” 

Quickly, he flicks the tip of his tongue over the peak of your sex, but with a deep, rugged breath, he reels himself back in. 

“No, nonono. Baby, please. Please, do that again.” You’re reaching out for him, whining and begging him to continue that pace. 

“Mm-mm,” Shaking his head, he sighs. Turning his head, he nuzzles his nose into the inside of your thigh. “Don’t you wanna sleep, B?”

“I, well…”

“Just sleep,” He coos, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips. “Let me take care of you.” 

Those specific words make your heart fucking burst. Doing as he says, you lay back, taking away the extra pillow beneath your head. After all, he’s right. You’re absolutely exhausted, and so is he. But he doesn’t want to sleep, he wants to enjoy you. So, you decide to let him.

You’re not sure how long he plans to do this for, but regardless, you get yourself cozy. Dragging a blanket over your upper half, you make sure to keep it above his head, not wanting him to get too hot beneath it. 

“B-Baby,” You’re mumbling now, eyes beginning to drift shut. His licks and kisses are light, tender. 

“Shh…” He mutters, softly ordering, “Turn off the light.”

Leaning over, you do, settling in even more than before. He feels you shuffle, nestling into your extraordinarily comfy bed. Resting between your legs, he holds onto you, gently massaging your muscles while he mouths at your sex. It’s something… different, something incredibly new and intimate. And when he hears your tiny yawn, it makes him happy. He really does want you to relax. Truthfully, this is all he’s thought about doing. 

At first, you’re listening, your eyes drifting shut to the subtle sounds of him licking you. The sensation of it is delightful, his head resting on your right thigh while he keeps his mouth on you. The gentle vibrations of his occasional moans and hums lull you to sleep, drifting in and out of slumber as minutes quickly turn into a full hour. And Simon still hasn’t moved, still hasn’t stopped, nor slowed down, nor sped up. He’s just tasting you, enjoying this timid exploration. It’s a gentle indulgement, something he’s only dreamed of doing to you. 

Your wetness trickles from the seams of your sex, and he continues to lick it up, hearing your little snores while he does. Lazily, his head rocks to a slow rhythm when he feels your thighs begin to quiver. But you’re still asleep, your breathing still steady.

The taste of you is tangy, but still genuinely sweet. It’s something he really does love. He could and will stay here for hours, for as long as he can. In the darkness, it feels so… private. So wonderfully personal and delicate. 

It’s slow and lazy, the sleepy orgasm he brings to you. Your hips roll up against him, his lips suctioning ever so gently to your clit. He rides it out with you, feeling one of your hands pet at him. You’re smiling, just barely, still lost in the thoughts of your dreamscape. 

Wetness spills from you, and he cleans it up with his tongue. You’re wet from him, his saliva lingering after your cum is gone. The roughness of his taste buds are dragged along your inner thighs, catching any juices he might’ve missed. But really, he just wants to savor it. 

“B-Baby…” It’s small and quiet and just so… cute. You sound so sleepy and delicate. 

Grunting quietly, Simon lifts himself, leaning onto his left forearm. With his free hand, he uses the back of it to wipe off his face, groaning from your subtle smell. 

When he looks down, he can just barely see you in the darkness, one of your hands reaching for him. Leaning in, he nuzzles his cheek into the palm of your hand, smiling before turning to kiss it. Shuffling around, he manages to maneuver his body next to yours. Your bed is backed into the corner of your room, and you’d been laying on the outer edge. But that side is closer to the window, and you sleeping right beside it just doesn’t sit well with him. So, he gently nudges you, moving you with his strong arms until you’re safely next to him. 

“Baby,” You softly call again, whining quietly.

“I’m here, sweetness.” He finally returns, sliding one bulky arm beneath your head.

Turning on your side, he feels you bring yourself into his chest. For some reason, it surprises him, someone wanting to be this close to him. On his back, he relaxes, feeling one of your small hands slide across his chest. And then you do something that really shocks him, something that makes every vein in his body feel electric. Gently, you find and hold onto his dog tags. 

Using his other hand, he slides it over yours and up to your forearm, holding you with it. And now, with one arm beneath your head and the other on your arm, he’s got you wrapped up in the secure cage of him.

He doesn’t know if he should say it, but with a deep sigh, he decides to go through with it. “I’m really… really glad I found you.”

In your sleepy state, you assume he’s talking about when he got back to base. The past few times, he’s always come looking for you. Little do you know, his words hold a deeper meaning. Sleepily, though, you respond to him.

“Always want you to.” Mumbling, you kiss his naked chest, sighing. “Always want you to come find me.” 

[pavus]

PROMPT : Carta. DRAGON AGE: INQUISITION ERA. Words: 1006. Characters: Suri & Velrand Cadash.

“The Knight-Captain here from Hasmal seems… squirrely.”

Velrand did not so much as glance up from the leather-bound journal in front of him. He scribbled something down, then scratched out another something higher on the page, his heavy brow knitting. “Hasmal is out. The Garvish family has dealings with the Marchers from up north.”

They’d been given their own quarters, if only just. There was a bed, a cot the size of a footrest, a vanity that was more than half-mirror, and a bucket to piss in. Behind a simple wooden divider was the other half of the broom closet they’d been shoved into, which was unoccupied as of yet. If they hadn’t flashed one of the Orlesian templars some of their product, they might have been truly roughing it.

There was no desk, so Velrand used his thigh for a writing surface. And below him, sitting on the cot with her short legs folded, was his sister.

“So everything along the Minater is out?”

“Yes.”

Suri let slip an annoyed snort. “By the fucking Garvishes?” She knew enough about Lutag Garvish to fill their piss bucket, and it was all bad. Or dull, rather. “How’d they land an agreement like that? From Hasmal to Wycome?”

The scratching of Velrand’s quill slowed, then stopped. He looked up at her, his dark eyes bleary and his concentration well and truly shattered. “What?”

“Lutag Garvish is dumb as a sack of nugshit,” Suri said, rather than repeating herself. “Fresh nugshit.”

Velrand’s massive chest heaved in a sigh.

“Yes, and?”

“How’d he get Hasmal and Tantervale and Starkhaven and Wycome buying his lyrium?”

Suri watched as the sharpened end of her brother’s quill tapped anxiously at the edge of his journal. The tap tap tap made her eye twitch. “Starkhaven’s Circle isn’t an option for any of us. Burned out about a decade ago, and the mages were sent to Kirkwall.” With his free hand, Velrand scrubbed a hand through his thick, brown beard with such ferocity that the three, gold-clasped braids under his chin bounced in response. “And he doesn’t have Wycome.”

“Then we should –”

“The Kadrat family has Wycome.”

That stopped her short, and she sighed the heaviest of sighs, her shoulders deflating into a weary slump. The Kadrat family didn’t just deal in lyrium. They dealt in everything – lyrium, weapons, textiles, wine. One of their lot ran a dye business in Orzammar that was swimming in gold and had been for longer than even her mother had been alive.

“So, what’ve we got left?”

Velrand began writing again. “Mother wants Cumberland.”

“You’re shitting me.”

That brought a half-smile to Velrand’s serious mouth. “Not shitting,” he grunted. “She pulled me aside before I left. She wants Cumberland, and she wants Sezda out.”

Suddenly, the fog she’d been carrying since the incident in the Deep Roads cleared. Suddenly, there was brilliant sunshine and a song playing on the wind and the weight of gold in every single one of her pockets. That was how you measured a mother’s love, wasn’t it? It couldn’t be anything else, not with theirs.

If opportunity was a woman, she’d have her tongue down her throat.

“I can do that for you.” The words sprinted from between Suri’s eager little lips. Before her brother could interrupt her, she lifted a hand with an, “Ah!” that stole his voice out of his throat and replaced it with an annoyed growl. “I know I’m shit in a large-scale fight, but you know I’m good for something that’s one-on-one. I’ve beaten you. Let me put a knife in the bitch.”

Velrand gave his heavy head a shake. “I know what this is.”

Suri stood up from the cot and planted her feet in front of him. The wound on her jaw was healing, if only just, but her smile was as uneven as his own. Just for different reasons.

“Don’t say I’m just doing this to get back into mother’s good graces,” she demanded, the edges of her raspy voice sharpened in her own brand of frustration with her brother. “It… might be that a little, but that’s not all. I’ve always wanted to do good by you, too, you know? And you’ll be taking up the business soon. Let me get you Cumberland.”

At first, the rigid line of Velrand’s broad shoulders made her think he was going to snap his quill in half and make her eat the damn thing. But then, they relaxed, and he looked up at her, and his half-smile turned into a full one. There was an undercurrent of surprise that she didn’t appreciate, but what could she expect, after all she’d done recently? Who could believe in her, except for herself? Except for – maybe – her brother?

“I’ll look around the place tonight,” Suri continued. “I’ll check things out and get my bearings, and tomorrow afternoon, I’ll put Sezda Varmi in the Stone.”

That night, as Suri was doing as she said she’d do, she happened upon something else entirely. She did not find an old dwarven woman with a crisp white braid and twin bruisers for sons. She did not find a letter or a trap or an empty bed, indicating that Sezda Varmi was long gone or had grown wise to her plan. She did not find another trio of dwarven merchants, counting their gold against the bottles of glowing blue lyrium that remained.

What she found was an old woman in fine Chantry garb and a god, floating above the ground, with lyrium that shone red rather blue rising from the pallor of his skin. What she found was a dropped orb, rolling towards her feet. What she found was another path in her story, another twist, another loss, as she lifted the orb into her hands and the world split open.

She would only see Velrand once more – a smoking corpse in a field of bodies, stuck in motion, stuck in agony that would chase him forever.

It was her fault.

It was all her fault.

[thesweetnessofspring]

Roses and Pearls by HalfHope (thesweetnessofspring)

Rated: E

Description: Peeta Mellark is the sole victor of the Quarter Quell. With District 12 nothing but ash, he rebuilds his life by moving to the Capitol and falling in love with Rosalia Snow, granddaughter to Coriolanus Snow.

Then people Peeta thought long dead kidnap him and Rosalia, including the one person he hates more than anyone: Katniss Everdeen. They say he's been hijacked. They say that he used to love her. Locked away in District 13, Peeta is determined to protect his mind and his fiancée from the rebels. But while imprisoned, videos disprove his memories and his feelings toward Katniss grow confusing. Who can he trust, and what really happened in his past?

Thank you @louezem for beta-ing this chapter! It's been a long time coming and one we've been looking forward to.

Chapter One | Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Each day, more people from District 13 come to Three. They first utilize the homes in Victor Village, four people to each bedroom, with families and couples getting priority and the single people then lining the living rooms with their cots to sleep. I get assigned to the Everdeens’ room, the same one Katniss and I shared. Once we wash the sheets, we let Prim and Mrs. Everdeen have the bed while Katniss and I put our cots next to each other on the floor. It means we don’t have the same privacy as before, but we manage to find time to ourselves, especially when Prim and Mrs. Everdeen work at the same time.

The propos air in all of the Districts while Beetee and Electra continue to work on how to break through the Capitol’s airwaves long enough for the propos to run. The feedback, they say, is largely positive. Unknown to me, as I’d been shielded in the Capitol, had been the fact that many in the districts grew distrustful of me when I started dating Rosalia. The propo revealing the details of the hijacking and Katniss accepting me as her lover again had increased the fury toward the Capitol and restored my image. Most importantly, Katniss and I coming together again after six years apart gave people hope that after all of these years, the Capitol can be toppled.

With the positive response, Plutarch and Cressida want to keep the momentum going, and Katniss and I are told we’ll be given a tour of a factory in Three for a propo. So far, Three is the only district to completely push the Capitol out, because of the force fields they’ve set up around key parts of the district. This was largely thanks to Electra, who had designed a force field stronger than the one that had contained all of the arenas for years. The so-called “chink” Katniss had described to me had gone from the size of an orange to a pea. 

Continue reading on ao3

[angelmichelangelo]

“i know, i know it hurts” with 2003 leo and mikey? 👀👀

LEO MIKEY WHUMP SWEEEEP lets go :D

read on ao3!

x

The days that come are bleak and cold, almost endless in the way most hours seem to blend together into one blur of one day to the next. It makes it hard to count off certain events, but to Leonardo, he’s able to keep a mental check on the ones that matter; the days that stand stark to him in his consciousness. He can remember the day Donatello went missing, failing to ever return home again. He can remember the day Mikey was plonked down on the med bay cot after a botched mission with a concussion bad enough to knock him for six for a week and the arm that’d come away mangled and messy as April had cut around it best she could into a neat little stump. He remembers every single one of the days Raph would get loud and angry in his face before he’d eventually left. He’d remember each of those long nights when Mikey would go quiet and refuse to eat. He remembers a lot, mostly the really painful stuff. It’s hard to forget when it was scorched across his mind like an ugly, mean scar. 

It’s been a relatively crummy week. One of their resistance camps on the other side of what used to be Flushing had been compromised and overrun. Only about a third had made it out, barely alive. Some of them were just about teenagers , only passing the age that Leo and his brothers were when the war had started. It leaves the rest of the camp in a rather sour mood. Mikey’s been entertaining the younger kids in all the ways he knows best but even his signature smile is starting to slip a little, and the shadows around his eyes are growing deeper and setting more as the days pass. It’s raining hard, little bullet sized pellets of water bouncing off the top of his tent, a dull plink-plonking sound that would have once upon a time lulled him to sleep. But not now. He lays there on his shell, the usual slew of all his self doubt voices whirling about in his head, a tornado of thought when it’s momentarily interrupted by a voice at the door. “Knock knock.” Leo sits himself up, stretching out the knot that’d starting forming at the base of his neck. “Come in, Mike.” His brother spills into the tent after he yanks the zip down, somehow managing to squeeze his hulking form through the smallest of gaps – his little brother forever embodying the spirit and soul of a cat. It makes the corners of his mouth lift upwards slightly until he catches sight of Mike’s tight expression. “You alright?” He asks, moving towards him with a little more urgency. Mikey, who’s already started to dig through Leo’s canvas bag, hums a non committed sound, a little estranged by what appeared to be from pain. “The usual, amigo,” he tells him without looking up, whether because he was just that much determined to find what he was looking for, or because he didn’t want Leo to see his face again and worry himself anymore. “Lefty is off in arm heaven doing a number on me again.” Ah. The phantom pains.

Ever since Michelangelo had awoken on that bed, groggy and confused and a whole arm down, April had pretty much launched into every tidbit of information she could gather from memory about the after effects of an amputation like his. “It’ll be like you can feel it still,” she’d explained. In the hue of his trauma, he’d just laughed and grinned and said, cool . Turned out, it wasn’t cool at all. He could feel the arm alright; an itch in his palm or pins and needles in an elbow that wasn’t there anymore. But it also came with the bone deep ache of the stretch and burn of tendons that were long gone missing. 

“Hey, lemme.” Leo says standing up he has to stoop over his brother, nudging him gently out of the way to root through his own bag to find the right kind of painkillers that were going to help. When he comes up short, he curses under his breath. “We’re due a supply run in the morning,” Leo tells his brother, voice slightly clipped. “I can send April and some of the others up to that pharmacy downtown, it should be relatively untouched I think.” It doesn’t seem like his brother really takes in any of that information, but nods his head politely like he’d been listening at all. He uses his one hand to rub at his stump and hisses, face screwing up entirely, beak wrinkling. “Aw, Mike. I’m sorry,” Leo says, unsure of what to do next. The last of their drugs was currently being used on the wounded from the resistance camp. He could go poke his head into the tent that was tending to them and snoop around for something but there were kids in there. People with wounds that were fresh and infected and dangerous . It breaks his heart clean in two to have to prioritize their pain over Mikey’s. In another time, he’d not thought twice about it. Never in a million years but…

But this was their future. This was their world. This was the hand they’d been so cruelly dealt. “It’s cool,” Mikey says, trying to shake off the way his voice buckles slightly. There’s a gathering of tears at the edges of his eyes and the smile he plastered across his face is wonky. “Hurts like a bitch, though.” Leo does something he hasn’t done in a long time, working on pure instinct alone, he moves forward and wraps his arms around his brother, chirping a sad little sound as if to enunciate his sympathy in a way much deeper than words alone. “I know,” he soothes him. “I know it hurts.” Mikey melts into the touch, a chirp of his own escaping past his lips. It’d be a while until he could get his hands on those meds for his brother, if they even existed that was, but this right here was about as good as he could offer him. In another world, Mikey wouldn’t have to endure such pain. In another world he wouldn’t have to swap out much needed medication with hugs that did nothing to chase off real pain. In another world, he had all three of his brothers to wrap around their littlest. He had his world un-fractured and unbroken. But this was their reality. Torn apart and in shred. This was the hand he’d been dealt, catching him across the jaw making him bleed. This was the hand that he had, and he was ready to bite at it.