#so i'm not cropping any more than i have to

[losers-clvb]

tastes like candy // billy butcher

pairing: billy butcher x female!reader

summary: billy wants a taste of you and you're happy to serve him his new favorite meal.

content: age gap (reader is around 23), use of song lyrics twice, use of "whore", smut, oral sex (female receiving), improper use of the dining table, mention of reader's past sexual experiences, protective butcher if you squint, butcher is reader's father's colleague of sorts

word count: 3.7k

note: direct use of lyrics are from "often" by the weeknd, indirect use of lyrics and the title are from "candy" by doja cat. i love me some karl urban. i'm rewatching "the boys" so prepared to be sick of me and my obsession with butcher and soldier boy.

masterlist

----

You were supposed to be home alone. Your father had left early that morning for the airport, a last minute work trip, and you were planning on spending the day in complete isolation. Between your dorm mate at college, your father wanting dad-daughter time, and the few failed dates, it had been months since you had a chance to just be with yourself.

So, here you were, dancing around the kitchen with your self-proclaimed “ovulation” playlist blaring through the speakers of your phone. You weren’t worried about keeping quiet, after all, who would you disturb? The houseplants?

“Baby, I can make that pussy rain, often,” you sung along with the song. You wouldn’t be caught dead saying things like this in public, but it was fun to do when you were in the mood for it. You slammed the top of the coffee maker down, knowing it would stay closed if you did it any gentler.

“Love, you’ve got a filthy little mouth.”

“Jesus Christ!” You gasped, jumping when you heard the thick British accent cut through your music. You spun around, fingers gripping onto the counter to stabilize yourself. There, standing in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room, was Billy Butcher. You knew this man, one of your father’s old friends. In all honesty, it had been years since you saw the man, and there had been more than one occasion when you heard your father grumbling about the Brit, but somehow he was here.

“Oi, don’t stop on my account.” Billy smirked, then gestured for you to keep moving.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked after a centering breath. You turned back to the coffee maker and frowned when you noticed it was filling far slower than you remembered. You could feel eyes on your ass.

“Stayed the night. A favor from your daddy.” Billy answered, tilting his head to really get a good look at your body. If he hadn’t been standing in your house, he wouldn’t have recognized you. The last time he had the pleasure of your company, you were a shy pre-teen with braces and a serious lack of control over your blushing. You had grown in the years, puberty gifting you a good set of breasts and pulling the baby fat off your body in all the right ways.

“He didn’t mention it.” You mumbled, clicking the lower volume button on your phone to a manageable level. You turned your head just enough to watch his eyes trail your body. You couldn’t tell if you were grateful or embarrassed in your clothing choice for the day; a tight pair of leggings and a crop top you otherwise only wore for sleep. Yes, you had harboured a crush on the man since you had met him, even if he had only ever treated you like a little girl. His absence from your life hadn’t done much to squash the feelings and there had been many a-nights when you had gotten off to the mental image of him. Not that you were going to do anything about it. You were a good little daughter, and Billy was your father’s colleague of sorts.

“Nah, I don’t imagine he would. I was supposed to be gone hours ago, love.” You heard the swish of Billy’s coat as he walked into the kitchen. He shuffled through the cupboards like he owned the place, pulling out two mugs for your slow-brewing coffee. You watched him, attention drifting to the top three buttons of his shirt that he had neglected to fasten together.

“Guess you better get going then.” You sighed, snapping your eyes away when he caught you looking. You cleared your throat and reached for one of the mugs. Billy held it just out of reach, causing one of your breasts to brush up against his arm.

“Wonder if dear ol’ dad knows what kinda things you got in that head of yours,” Billy teased. You huffed out a breath and took a step back, crossing your arms. Bad idea. It just pushed your breasts together, making your cleavage peek through the v-neckline of your shirt more. Billy’s tongue shot out to lick his lips, something you didn’t catch.

“You don’t know half the things I think about, Billy.” You defended. He almost thought he had offended you, but then a playful smile crossed your face. You scrunched your nose at him and swiped the mug from his grasp. Billy smirked at the clumsy pour of coffee, watching the dark liquid almost spill. You filled his mug as well, knowing he wasn’t leaving until he got at least a cup in.

“Is that right?” Billy asked, his voice lilting. You nodded, pouring a healthy portion of sugar into your drink. “What keeps the congressman’s daughter up at night?”

You rolled your eyes. Like you needed another reminder of your father’s job, the thing that had caused so many headaches in your life. It even bled into your dating life. Turns out most of the guys you had gone out with just so happened to be political majors, and they were just wondering if you could put in a good word for them. Of course, this all came after you had already faked an orgasm from them.

“It might offend you.” You brushed off. You couldn’t tell him that most nights, you were thinking of him. Thinking of his thick fingers pushing into you, his whiskey-scented breath ghosting over your skin, what dirty things he might growl into your ear. You shuffled into the dining room, taking a seat in a navy-blue upholstered chair at the oak table.

“Darling, not much can offend a bloke like me.” Billy bit out cheekily, sending you a wink when he followed you to the table.

“Mhm,” you hummed. You made a face at him, taking a sip of your coffee. He smiled back at you. You flicked your eyes down to his hands, watching the way his mug was dwarfed in them. You couldn’t manage to pull your attention away when he lifted it to his mouth, drinking down the black liquid. You watched his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed and hadn’t realized that your lips had slightly parted at the sight until he cleared his throat. You looked up at his eyes, which twinkled in amusement. He knew the effect he had on you, though it wasn’t as if you were trying to hide it.

“Tell me,” Billy started and you knew his next words would be nothing innocent, “does it really taste like candy?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in question. You knew he was referencing one of the songs you had played earlier, but instead of questioning how long he had been watching you, you smirked and held his gaze.

“Only one way to find out.” You shot back at him. Billy seemed shocked by your bold answer, but he didn’t look away. You don’t know what came over you. Maybe it was the weeks of sexual frustration, or the stress of mid-terms. You weren’t usually one to be so direct, but for some reason, with this man who was your father’s age, you couldn’t hold back.

“Now would you look at that,” Billy leaned his back against his chair, “the princess is a dirty little whore.” He set his coffee on the table in front of him. Had anyone else called you a whore, you would have slapped the shit out of them. When Billy did it, the word sent a shock straight to your core. You squeezed your thighs together and stood from your chair.

Billy watched as you sauntered around the corner of the table before standing in front of him. You were looking down at him and when Billy tried to meet your eyes, he caught a glimpse of your hardened nipples under your shirt. He scooted his chair out, fully intending to stand up and sweep you into his arms, but you plopped down onto his lap. Your legs fell on either side of him and your chest was practically flush with his own. The cherry on top was the heat from between your legs seeping through his jeans straight to his cock.

“You want a sample?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his neck. Billy’s hands flew to your ass and he gripped at it, causing you to bite down on your lip.

“I’m having the whole bloody buffet.” Billy answered before crashing his lips into yours. You ground your hips down, moaning into his mouth when you rubbed on the seam of his jeans. He growled and pulled himself to his feet, hoisting you up with him. You didn’t have a chance to wrap your legs around his waist before he had you laid out on the table.

Billy’s hand smoothed over your thigh before finding its destination on your core, cupping itself over the fabric. You rutted your hips up, hoping to create some friction.

“Holy shit, love, you’re practically soakin’ through your trousers.” Billy pulled away to comment. You hummed out an answer, just a noise that told him you needed more. He made quick work of pulling your pants off, dragging your underwear with them. You decided it wasn’t fast enough. You swiped a few fingers through your slick, gathering it up before leaning up to stick them in his mouth. He instinctively wrapped his lips around them, tongue swirling to clean them.

You smiled proudly at him when he groaned at the taste. He released the digits with a pop noise, licking the spit from his lips. His eyes darkened with a wild glaze when he looked down on you.

“Sweeter than sugar.” Billy smirked at you, his own fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. He dragged your ass to the edge of the table, making you fall onto your back. Your head landed on the table runner, softening the blow. Your breathing quickened when he descended to his knees, his face disappearing behind the swell of your chest.

You could only see the top of his head now, his hair peeking at you. You whined when he kissed the insides of your thighs, his lips leaving sloppy, wet spots in their wake. A small bite on the dip where your leg met your pelvis earned him a throaty squeak.

Billy let his mouth linger there, the breath from his nose pushing on your skin softly. You furrowed your eyebrows, staring at his inky black locks. You expected him to go right into it to get it over with, just as every other man had done to you. This was different. He was taking his time with you.

“Bi-,” you started to say, but that’s when he decided to make his move. You felt his tongue swipe up your center, a groan vibrating through him. You threw your head back when he swirled his tongue around your clit. You bent your legs up, desperate to move some part of your body, and he used a hand to guide them over his shoulders.

You swallowed down a moan. Billy noticed this, noticed you holding back. He flexed his jaw, determined to pull every little noise out of you. He landed a light slap on your clit, smiling at the cry of pleasure.

“I don’t like quiet breakfasts, love.” He told you before lowering his mouth down onto you again. You moaned at the feeling. His lips, his tongue, his teeth. It all created a sensation that you hadn’t felt before. Somehow, it was too much and not enough at the same time. You snaked your hands down your body. Ultimately, they ended up on Billy’s, your fingertips brushing over his calloused skin.

You whimpered with his movements. You had been eaten out a few times in your life. The men you had been with always claimed to be gods at the act, hyping themselves up in between small licks. There had been one particularly cocky guy who spent more time talking than actually doing anything. From what you remember, he gave y0u about three and a half pitiful licks before jumping up to stick his dick in you, leading to a very unfulfilling night.

This was completely different.

Billy was calculated, taking his time to pull you apart. For the first time since you’d known him, he was giving his mouth a job separate from the cocky remarks and half-baked lies. You wondered if he had much experience in this. You knew he had a wife, but you had only met her once before she disappeared. Did he eat her like this, with a hunger you had only seen in stray dogs?

You choked on a breath when he twisted his head to the side, tongue dipping into your hole. He was exploring you. You wished you could see his face, wish you could watch him work away at you. The stress from college classes and any guilt you may have felt from letting a man fifteen-plus years older devour you on the dining room table flew out the window with every passing minute. You moaned, your previous gentle hold on his hands tightening. Billy twitched his index and middle fingers up subconsciously, wrapping them around a few of your fingers.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. You had dreamed about this since you were in high school, but you never imagined it would actually come to life. It was better than the scene you had conjured in your head, better than anything you could have even come up with. You rolled your hips into his face, his nose bumping against your clit.

You felt like a meal with the way he had you spread out. A flash of you the night before, eating dinner with your father while he talked about a senator’s son you might be interested in befriending -- a hint that he expected you to befriend him. You had nodded along, knowing there was no chance in hell that you would have anything in common with the boy. You were pursuing similar degrees, but then again, so were half of the politicians’ children you had met. You made a mental note to thoroughly disinfect the table after all of this, even if the housekeepers would take care of it after the weekend. You weren’t exactly keen on making Stephanie wipe up your cum.

You felt a rush of lightning shoot to your lower stomach, making you clench around his tongue. He hummed an encouraging noise, the vibration running straight to your clit.

“Ohmygod,” you rushed out, bucking your hips up. Your feet tucked under Billy’s arms in the process. The knowledge that he had the strength to pick you up and walk around with you perched on his shoulders pulled a gasp out. You arched your back with your release, grateful that Billy continued to work you through it with his lips.

Once you had relaxed onto the table, chest heaving, he stood. You were able to see his face now. His lips were swollen, cheeks flushed, and beard soaked with a mixture of his spit and you. You fluttered your lashes at him, hands slipping from his when you reached to brush a few strands from your face.

“Look at this sight!” Billy exclaimed, spreading his arms out to gesture to you. You rolled your eyes, lips parting to sigh out softly. Leave it to Billy Butcher to run his mouth after eating a girl out. “A lovely lady spread out like a proper meal, practically screamin’ my name when I’ve had my fill.”

“I did not scream your name.” You defended, propping yourself up on your elbows. You raked your eyes over his body. Not much of his skin showed, but you still felt yourself heat back up down there. You wanted this, wanted him. If you were going to have your teenage dreams brought to life, you would make sure all of them would be given a chance. You sat up completely and your fingers flew to the sides of his coat. You wiggled the fabric down his arms.

“Are you really that fuckin’ horny?” Billy asked, astonished at your quick movements. You faltered in pulling his coat off, stopping at the bend of his elbows. You looked up into his eyes, a playful smirk shooting across your face.

“If you can’t get it up, just say that.” You teased. He sucked on his teeth before pushing his lips into yours. You kissed him like he was oxygen in smoke-filled lungs. His hands brushed under your shirt, gruff fingers finding a home just under your breasts. You, without breaking the kiss to look, unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it open to reveal his chest.

You whimpered into his mouth when he wrapped a hand around one of your breasts, squeezing with a measured pressure. You pulled away to lift your shirt over your head. You threw it in a random direction and it landed haphazardly hanging off a rather expensive sculpture your father had purchased. Billy immediately bent down to tease your nipples, the chill of his drying spit bringing goosebumps to your skin.

“Enough of this foreplay, Butcher.” You breathed out, hands resting gently on his head while you cradled his face to your chest.

“Aye, aye, captain.” He mumbled into your breast cheekily. His hand trailed to the front of his jeans, quickly unbuttoning and pushing them down. He slid his coat and shirt off, letting them drop to the floor. He was standing there in only his boxers and you immediately ogled the tent in the fabric.

You were just about to hook a finger around the waistband when the doorbell rang out, announcing a visitor. You stiffened. No one was supposed to come here today. You were supposed to have a quiet morning to yourself, maybe watch a few movies. Of course, those plans had flown out the window when Billy made his presence known. Still, who was at the door?

They pushed the doorbell again, then knocked impatiently. You jumped off the table, bare feet hitting the floor. Your eyes searched for something easy to throw on and landed on Billy’s coat. It would have to do. He sent you a wolf whistle while you tied it shut. You glared at him but there was no heat in it. How could there be when your cum was still shining on his chin?

You hurried over to the door after yet another ring of the doorbell. Jesus, you thought. Whoever the hell was at the door knew you were home and they weren't leaving without acknowledgement. You twisted the bronze door handle and yanked the door open, letting the bright sun shine into the house.

There standing on your doorstep with a battered textbook on his hand, was Jimmy Lovitz, your lab partner in chemistry. He sent you a crooked smile, one that you were far too familiar with. You narrowed your eyes at him in question. He was in no way a selfless individual, so you doubted he had driven the hour from campus to deliver your textbook.

“Hey baby.” Jimmy said, eyes scanning your body. You rolled your eyes. Yep, he definitely had ulterior motives.

“I told you not to call me that, James.” You reminded him, using his legal first name to further prove your point. You had gone on one date with the boy and suddenly he thought he held some sort of possession on you.

“Oh, you seemed to like it when I had you down on your knees.” Jimmy defended. You scoffed out a breath, crossing your arms. You were about to answer when a hand snaked around your waist, landing on your stomach protectively. You looked up and behind you to see Billy leaning up against the doorframe. He had chosen to not dress himself before joining you, his boxers being the only thing between him and the rest of the world. Jimmy balked at him for a moment, obviously not expecting you to have any company. “This your dad?” He asked, pointing behind you.

“You know it’s not.” You bit back at him. Fortunately for him it wasn’t. If he had used that rude tone on your father, he would have shown Jimmy exactly what training they used to give the Marines back in the day. You leaned back into Billy’s chest.

“Mmm, right.” Jimmy answered, nodding while sizing Billy up. The older man had about eight inches and forty pounds on Jimmy, all of it wrapped up in a mouth-watering body. He met your eyes again, but his attention was caught on Billy curling a strand of your hair around his finger. He was showing off, moving your hair just enough to show more of your collarbone, silently bragging to the world of the woman he had in his arms. 

“I thought we could study together. Work on our chemistry, you know?” Jimmy said suggestively, smirking at you. You couldn’t believe him. Couldn’t he see you were already busy?

“Sorry mate, we’re focused on anatomy right about now.” Billy said slyly before you could speak. You bit back a chuckle when you saw Jimmy’s face morph into annoyance. “I was just about to teach the princess here about the male genitalia.”

“She’s already familiar with it, mate.” Jimmy shot back. It was meant to demean you, maybe, but you were more focused on the erection poking into your back.

“Thought I’d give her a larger specimen to observe.” Billy tilted his head at the younger man. “Now, why don’t you fuck off and give a good wank into your favorite sock.”

“You fuckin’ asshole.” Jimmy seethed out, taking a step forward. He didn’t enjoy being insulted, especially when they were true. You snatched your textbook from his hands.

“Goodbye Jimmy.” You told him. You could see he was about to try -- and fail -- at picking a fight with Billy, but before he could, Billy swept you into his arms. He threw you over his shoulder, giving Jimmy a good look up the coat that was wrapped around you. You giggled while he backed into your house, slamming the door in Jimmy’s face.

“Where were we?” Billy asked cheekily, giving the side of your thigh a quick peck.

[fidenciocryptidcreechur]

this rant is specifically because i saw some folks with some rather bad takes on a different platform.

I swear to fucking hell if twst fandom starts genuinely acting like Jamil is a woman hater because he didn't switch up his behavior and still had his overblot crash out with Yuuna I'm gonna lose sanity.

I have seen some joking memes on other platforms (not really here fortunately) but like I have also seen some of these joking takes spiral out of control. It's happened with Trey where folks started thinking Trey doesn't actually care about Riddle or his friends and secretly hates baking, happened with Leona (some still happens but mainly through misconstruing his burnout and depression with laziness but also it carried over when people said he hates men when really he gets aggravated anybody that bothers him which is most of nrc except yuus and his dormmates in general.), also happens with the octotrio (they don't hate each other and i don't know how that weird headcanon came around back then but i am glad it's dead) and with sebek (he has other interests besides malleus and i am so glad people are becoming more aware of this).

NRC has confirmed that the guys do not actually change up their behavior for anyone, they act themselves in every Yuuniverse, and mainly only react according to certain behaviors and personalities. For example, game canon Yuu doesn't have the same interactions as Yuuna, scarabia yuu, and that's because they have two very different types of personalities.

All the overblotters are equal opportunity crashouts, they both do their usual antics regardless. Plus an overblot is literally a magic-made physical manifestation produced from someone being crushed under the pressure of their stress and having a mental breakdown. They aren't exactly going to be accommodating to anyone in any way during this- we see this in all of the overblots and how they will do things they regret or would never do normally. The accumulation of long term stress and resentment over a lifetime isn't gonna be suddenly resolved by someone who has existed on campus for like maximum 6 months so it makes sense that Jamil still goes ahead with the original book 4 events. it cannot be overstated enough that shit was going down regardless and some one who has only been on that campus for maximum 4-6 months and who has likely interacted with the overblotter for less than that total amount of time (simply because they are not and cannot be by the overblotters side 24/7) isn't gonna suddenly undo years of resentment and stress. It's not like he suddenly undid his generational trauma of familial servitude. So while The physical magic manifestation can be attacked, sure, and you can snap the overblotter out of it this way, there was gonna be a blowout regardless.

Love Yuuna, will NOT accept hate for her, but i also will not stand for anyone making trash takes for Jamil who's going through it.

Thankfully I haven't really seen it happening on tumblr (hooray!!) but I have seen it cropping up on a couple other platforms but i am keenly aware of how those jokes can spiral away and how some people will seem to start genuinely taking off with it.

note: i do not particularly care how someone writes their au, their oc/yuusona, or their own writing/jokes- plus that isn't really up to me and it would be a monumentally jackass move to genuinely say or even try to enforce (let people live, don't harass writers you don't like, block and move on, etc). I am mostly talking about the canonical takes and interpretations. Canon is one of those things where one can take inspiration from and that is helpful for writing fiction and for writing the characters but that is ultimately not required for making au's. Can you make better headcanons and is it beneficial to look at canon to help with writing characters? yes, of course. Is it required? no, and often the addition of non-canon details and headcanons- especially ones formed from inspiration from canon- add a lot of life to fics and art. There are some wonderful au's and art in this community which have almost zero connection to the original dynamics or to the story AND THEY ARE AMAZING. This isn't about au's though. It's about some garbage interpretations i saw about the canonical characters and i don't wanna go through round 2 of wild outlandish misinterpretations....

ultimately Not arguing about people's takes, au's and headcanons in this so much as the actual canon and people's take away from it.

Jamil has never been shown to indicate that he's misogynistic or a woman hater and i think it's a garbage take is what i am ultimately saying.

[bonestrouslingbones]

i finally got an idea to make fluff's outfit just a little more "papyrus" (aka just a bit more faggy) but i haven't even tried to draw it out yet because i cannot for the life of me figure out how to represent low-rise pants with fishnets underneath on a fucking skeleton

[zestyzigzagoon]

So, a lot of the research being put into this fic doesn't actually end up in the final product- it's just background stuff that's good for me to know, like the history of westward expansion and the cultures that modern cowboy pastiche is profiting off of. I like knowing the sociohistorical context of what I'm riffing off of. But in some of the more practical parts of my research, I have found a need to specify 'western riding' or 'horse' or 'cowboy' at the end of my searches. The reason being, if you look up enough things like chaps and whips and crops and rope *without* specifying, the google algorithm starts to get a really specific idea about who you are and what it is that you're using these things for 😭

[autumnrory]

omg i'd forgotten i have an express coupon and this miniskirt keeps going in and out of stock in my size and i tried it on and everything but i needed the price to go down and now i'm like if i had remembered the coupon it might be enough off to get that and the other things i want that are more reasonably priced

[questioningdragons]

North American Cities Devastated by Fires in 2023

Edson, Alberta

Fox Creek, Alberta

Tantallon and Hammonds Plains, Nova Scotia

West Kelowna, British Columbia

Yellowknife, North West Territories

Lahaina, Hawaii

Let me know what I missed. I am sad to say that I am certain there are some.

[homocidalpotat]

Please do not send me asks for donations

Here's why (for if you find that statement impossible to understand):

I have NO money to give you.

I'm not popular enough that I will give you any reach.

I am a minor, and most of my followers/mutuals are too.

It makes me feel extremely guilty.

Seeing pictures of injuries or hospitals etc are triggering and/or upsetting for me. These pictures often have blood, gore, extreme medical situations, hospital environments, etc. I'm not saying I don't feel sympathy for them, I'm saying I do not want to see that.

They are always worded in a way that makes me feel like I am a murderer if I don't donate.

I said I don't want them, and my boundaries should be respected. They make me feel uncomfortable, and sometimes triggered or upset.

I can't tell what is a bot/scam and what isn't. Yes, I know most of them are not, or whatever it is you believe, but I don't have the time to do a full study of each asker.

I get a lot of spam from this. It is disappointing to see 10 new asks in my inbox just to be the same ask for donations over and over.

Please, just respect the fact that I have said this.

If you want this in your pinned post, please don't credit me. You can copy the words or take a screenshot with my username cropped out. You can reblog this but please don't go on about how awful your experiences have been. I get it, but also if you spiral two much you might end up accidentally saying something bad. This post has led to a lot of hate anons and harassment, so I would rather not have too much attention. Thanks...

I am pro Palestine and want to do everything I can to help but I'm not financially or mentally well enough to do much. I'm not in support of these people dying. Also, this post isn't just about Palestine. It's about ALL asks for donations. I'm not doing favouritism or racism. I just can't deal with it. Don't harass me for expressing boundaries. This post applies to people of all nationalities and backgrounds. Every situation- war, poverty, injury, anything. I'm not discriminating. I'm not being a zionist or a racist or an ableist. It's a boundary.

Yes, this post might seem controversial. But I did literally make this for my own personal experience and didn't expect it to get more than 12 notes or so. Don't add opposing views because quite frankly, it's none of your business. It's not my problem and I didn't mean for this post to get so many notes. Don't use the number of notes as an excuse to fight me. I just want a peaceful Tumblr experience. Also, if you are reblogging this, don't trauma dump. I keep notifications on for this post so that I can block people harassing me before shit escalates, so I can see every reblog. You can screenshot and repost if you want to talk about your problems, but honestly its no better seeing people saying "I'm bankrupt and I just got kicked out by my family. I also have a history of abuse and those images are so triggering that I want to die". That doesn't help me. Make your own post to say that. Please.

I am taking this post off private after slightly modifying it. Any conflicting arguments based on this post will result in my blocking and reporting of you. If you do not understand my point of view, make sure you fully read the post before saying this. I made this post for my blog. If you have any questions or don't understand this post, send me an ask that is composed, calm and polite, and I can talk it through with you.

Please note that by sharing this post, you are more likely to be targeted by bots and scams. You are also more likely to be harassed. Please be safe.

[krysmcscience]

At long last: either an alternate explanation for or continuation of my prior comic regarding how Bill was ABSOLUTELY naked in Ford's karaoke night drawing. (Because errors in art do not exist. Artists do not make mistakes. So if you see any in this comic, No You Do Not.)

I am so normal about these old dorks.

I'm not really clear on exactly when Bill started throwing his desperation book at Ford just like a needy ex do, but I find it extremely funny to imagine it happening literally the day of or after the makeshift funeral. Bill just gets this weird sense of 'Ford is taking steps to move on' and CANNOT FUCKING ABIDE.

I hope you enjoy all the goofy things I added to each page of Bill's sad spieling. (Everything SHOULD be readable so long as you view the full size, but I have added basically this whole little fanfic in the image descriptions, LMAO, which lays out all the little written notes and such.) Also don't ask how Bill managed to sneak that vampire pen in there. I have no idea, and honestly? I don't wanna know.

Oh, and a little bonus comic:

Of course Bill would take it as flirting. Because between the two of them, Bill is the bigger masochist By Far. :)

Also I have continued applying The Good Place logic to any of Bill's attempts to swear. Case in point, one last bonus image, this time with a motivational line from my slapdash Theraprism OC, EV-01:

Yes, its name is just 'love' backwards. No, I will not be taking any feedback on this. Yes, EV-01 was only ever assigned to Bill's case due to the Theraprism being desperate to make some progress in rehabilitating him. No, it did not work anywhere close to staff's expectations - Bill didn't even appreciate EV-01's matching fondness for bowties! (He claimed the fondness to be "cultural appropriation" and insisted he'd been traumatized by it.)

Anyway, if you like my stuff, reblogs are very much appreciated, and if you really really like it, perhaps consider my commissions or yeeting a teeny tiny tip my way? I am trying to recoup over 500 dollars in vet bills, ahaha... 🙃

In other news, I loved all the fun tags people added to the prior naked-karaoke comic (such as 'the hat and bow-tie stay ON during sex' and the classic '[insert keysmash here]', as well as the many amused/bewildered remarks about how I either made the bricks a piece of clothing or just straight up peeled Bill's skin off). However, I think my favorite thing by far was the several people losing their shit over the fact that I gave Bill toes. Like, excuse me? The magical talking triangle can have fingers but not toes??? Since when was that a rule????? 🤣 (Also the one person who reblogged with the cropped panel where Bill's fishnets pants are falling off to ask why Bill peed himself. Dude, I want to examine your brain...?)

Okie-dokie, I'm sick of looking at all of this stuff now and I'm off to go to work, after which I will either scribble some more goofy "Billford" comics or perhaps draw my lame human!Bill in Situations, idk yet. Maybe I'll even finally draw more than just a single other person's human!Bill...? Who knows, but I sure hope I can mix it up a little and not turn whatever I draw into a month-long fukken project. >:\

[whateverloomis]

🖤 Dilf!Billy Loomis x AFAB reader (Stepcest)

🖤 Part 2

Warnings: Stepcest, predetermined family, fingering, teasing, p in v, roughness, infidelity, unprotected sex, dirty talk, daddy kink, slight degradation, mentions of Stu, age gap (middle aged Billy and reader in their 20s,) AFAB reader (no pronouns,) unedited

Your mother had never been shy with her love life. She's had multiple partners after your dad passed away. Random hookups with attractive older men happened pretty often too. You're sure it's all been to fill the void and drown the unwanted emotions.

You've never really had the best relationship with her, you bud heads a lot and have grown distant since your biological dad passed, not to mention the countless arguments about every little inconvenience.

For that reason and many others you haven't been secretive about the attraction towards your step father, Billy Loomis. You don't care if he actually loves her or not. You'll let any selfish thoughts cross your mind and oh boy, you want that man inside you as soon as possible.

He's been living with you and your mother for 2 years and as time went by it got more difficult to contain yourself around him, especially since he openly flirts with you and you swear that one of these days you're going to jump on his cock the second you find a chance.

One particular day your mother left for the weekend on a business trip. You were more than sure that she'd been cheating on Billy with his best friend, Stu Macher. They've worked together for years and it's so obvious that they've got something going on.

To be completely honest, you wouldn't mind having Stu as your next step father. He's just as hot as Billy and you never miss the way that he checks you out whenever you're around him. Gosh, if you could have both of them at the same time you know you'd cum the second they both lay hands on you.

Being alone with Billy for the weekend was going to be difficult. You haven't hooked up with anyone in so long and touching yourself isn't satisfying anymore. The way he shamelessly walks around shirtless with sweatpants that highlight his cock drives you crazy and you don't know how you'll survive around him.

Because of that you were feeling bold. You wanted to risk it all, and you did.

It was a Saturday morning and you wake up ready to take the day off to relax after a long week. After you brushed your teeth and showered, you went to the kitchen in just a thong, a thin cotton crop and knee high socks. You knew Billy would walk in the kitchen any second after hearing the water turn off in the shower and were ready to pounce at any moment.

"Well good morning to you too." The sound of his deep voice instantly sent shivers down your spine.

Billy was standing against the countertop behind you shamelessly looking at your exposed ass and gorgeous legs. His hair was damp from the shower and slicked back. No shirt on. Grey sweatpants. He was out to hunt and you were his easy prey.

Turning around, you smiled innocently at him and pointed at the stove, "You want pancakes? I'm making myself some."

Billy could see right through you and he wasn't playing your games.

At your question he chuckled and walked towards you. His hands instantly found your waist and his eyes captured yours, "I'm hungry for something else," he said and squeezed your flesh slightly, his eyes lingering on your tits before scanning your face.

He was driving you mad. You couldn't help but bite your lower lip to suppress a pathetic moan that threatened to come out of you.

Billy seemed to notice and smirked at your reaction, "I don't think your mother would like knowing you're walking around the house looking like that while I'm here," he said and it was your turn to chuckle at his nonchalant comment.

"I don't think she'd like to see her husband grab me like he is right now but here we are," you answered and he lost it.

Billy ran his hands down and under your ass cheeks before picking you up. He sat you on the counter and positioned himself between your legs. His large hands rested on your thighs and he occasionally squeezed them.

"Don't use that tone with me," he said half serious and you laughed teasingly as his words.

"Why? Is daddy gonna ground me? Hm?" you teased further and Billy grabbed your face with his right hand under your jaw, making you look into his eyes. You smirked at him and that was enough, the man crashed his lips against yours and kissed you hungrily.

You were desperate. Both of you were. Your hands were tangled in his hair and he was holding you impossibly close to his body. He groped your ass as you rocked against him slowly.

He was hard and needy before, but having you like this was going to make him cum right then and there if he wasn't careful.

Billy slid one of his hands from your ass to your hip, down your inner thigh and finally over your core. He felt the wetness through the fabric of your thong and he gasped at you mockingly, "I've barely touched you and you're already soaked," he said and you whined softly. So desperate to feel him inside you. Your body ached for his cock.

The man couldn't contain himself much longer. He was already pulling your panties to the side and playing with your cunt. Rubbing your sensitive bud in circular motions and running his fingers down to your throbbing hole, dipping them just enough to pleasure you but not enough to satisfy the craving. He was torturing you. Torturing himself.

"Mm... Billy please," you moaned and grabbed his big hand, pushing his fingers all the way inside you and whining at the feeling of finally being filled up. It still wasn't enough but fuck did it feel amazing when he started to fuck you with his fingers.

You throbbed around him and he groaned at the feeling.

"Fuck baby, you feel so good... I bet you'll feel better around my dick," he whispered in your ear as you fucked yourself with his fingers.

You grabbed his cock and felt how big he is. Gosh you were so right when you imagined him as you rode your dildo in your room alone at night.

"Mmphh... Please fuck me," you begged and Billy pulled his fingers out of your cunt, sucking on them teasingly and moaning at your taste.

He pulled you towards him by your thighs and you wrapped your arms around his neck instinctively. He held your legs around his middle and carried you to his and your mother's bedroom.

After he released you, you crawled on the bed and positioned yourself on the edge on all fours, giving him a perfect view of your behind. You slowly removed your thong for him and revealed your glistening cunt.

Billy groaned at the sight and pulled his sweatpants down just enough to release his throbbing cock. He wanted to eat you up and taste your whole body but right then he couldn't handle the sight of your waiting hole. He'd been wanting to bury himself inside you for so long, and when he finally did you both moaned at the same time.

He didn't bother to wear protection and you honestly didn't give a fuck at that point. You didn't care if your stepfather knocked you up, as fucked up as it sounds.

"Ahh fuck... Harder Daddy, harder!" You nearly screamed, and to that he complied.

Billy grabbed your hips harshly and pounded you hard enough that you felt his cock all the way up your stomach. He pressed your head against the mattress, your back arched perfectly for him and the sight of your ass cheeks bouncing against him was nearly enough to make him cum inside you, but he was smarter than that of course.

"Getting fucked by your stepfather, who does that?" He shamed you and it made you throb around him. You were nearly going to cum just by hearing his words, it was a chase for release between the two of you.

After a few more thrusts the knot inside you finally broke as his tip brushed against your gspot. You came around him and screamed at the feeling of the intense waves that were coursing through your body. You had one, two, three mini orgasms after the big O and fuck you needed more.

Billy nearly bust his load inside your sweet pussy, but he managed to pull out and cum all over your back. He took a mental picture at how good your body looked covered in his seed.

"I'll clean up the mess for you," he whispered teasingly before giving you a lingering kiss.

As he walked into the bathroom you heard the front door open. Your mom and Stus voice echoed in the living room.

Fuck.

"I'll take care of it..."

•

I know I know, we hate cliffhangers but I love teasing y'all :p ;)

Hope you enjoyed reading <33

[gloomyluvr]

NEEDY

in which rafe just wants to nap

fem!reader x rafe cameron

fluff

warnings!: bit of sarah shade. cameron siblings getting along (iktr 🙂‍↕️), reader is from the cut and kind of a pogue idk,

a/n: hiii ! first rafe fic ever and first fic since 2023 (oops...) to my spiderverse readers i will write when they give us content and when the fandom is alive. hope this fic is good and people like it. it's not the best but i'm working on other fics so give me a chance please 😣. this ones pretty short. pls let me know if you enjoyed this or if there are any spelling errors. requests are open !

masterlist

summer in the outer banks was nothing short of fun. spending most days at the beach taking in the warm sun, relaxing and cooling down in the cold water, all while hanging out with the people you love most. but fuck, did it get so hot sometimes. unbearably hot. it wasn’t enough to cool down in the water, the intense sun on skin overpowering the coolness of the ocean. it was worse at the chateau, or anywhere on the cut. only a lucky few could afford the luxury of air conditioning. fortunately, you had a super awesome hot rich boyfriend with a mansion with air conditioning that ran 24/7. 

you laid in bed with the youngest cameron sibling, helping her with online shopping for the upcoming school year. having been with rafe for just a couple months, you had become close with his sisters. you saw sarah at the chateau with john b more than you had ever really seen her at tannyhill. therefore, when you spent time at the mansion, you typically spent time with wheezie when you got bored with rafe. 

“wait, that one’s cute,” you pointed to a crop top on wheezie’s laptop which rested on her knees.

“i think i already have that one though.” she looked around her room to see if the top was among the clothes on the floor before giving up and continued scrolling through the catalogue, “i feel like these clothes are too revealing.”

“cmon wheeze! this is nothing, you just gotta get out of your shell. it’s just clothes, try something new and i don’t know, maybe you’ll like it.” you tried convincing the younger girl. over the past few months you had become like an older sister to her, as sarah spent more time with john b and the other pogues.

“my dad would never let me buy these,” she turned her head to look at you. 

“just put it on rafe’s card,” you whispered, “i won’t tell.” you stuck your pinky out and wheezie quickly wrapped her pinky around yours, giggling. 

as wheezie finalized her cart a familiar voice began to call out for you, “babeee! babeee where are you!”

wheezie rolled her eyes, “speak of the devil,” she muttered. 

“summon him and he shall come,” you smiled at her which she returned, “i’m in wheezie’s room!” you called back. on queue, you heard obnoxiously loud stomps coming up the stairs. “he is so dramatic and for what?”

rafe stood in the doorway looking at you and his younger sister, “why’d you steal my girlfriend, wheeze?” 

 it was your turn to roll your eyes, “she didn’t steal me, dipshit. you were too busy ignoring me for topper and kelce and your stupid game so i came up here where i am truly loved.” you sighed, wrapping yourself around wheezie who stuck her tongue out at her older brother. in return, rafe picked up one of the shirts laying on the floor and chucked it at wheezie. 

“douchebag!” she yelled.

“cmon y/n, i wanna go take a nap.” 

“but i’m so comfy here!” you whined cuddling wheezie tighter. 

rafe walked over to your side and quickly got on the bed, spooning you and throwing one of his long legs over your body, reaching wheezie. rafe wasn’t an affectionate brother by any means, but when he was with you he definitely softened up with everyone around you guys. 

wheezie kicked her brother’s calf, “ew get your nasty dogs away from me!” but rafe didn’t budge.

“what’re you guys doing?” he mumbled looking at the laptop screen. 

“y/n’s helping me shop for school.” 

“why? you have enough clothes. you don’t need none of those crop tops. no boyfriends till you’re 30.” rafe stated as he viewed the clothes on the screen.

you gently smacked the leg that was on top of your own, “don’t be rude! wheezie’s not little anymore.”

 “hm, whatever.” he grumbled, nuzzling his face against your neck, eyes shut as he fully enveloped you leaving no space between your bodies. his hands found yours, wasting no time to intertwine your fingers. 

“get off me, fatty!” you feigned disgust, as if you weren’t enjoying every second of rafe’s neediness to cuddle.

rafe grumbled, “only if you come take a nap with me in my room.” 

“fineeee, get up then,” you reached behind to gently smack his butt and he quickly got up, no effort to hide his big smile, “sorry wheeze, duty calls.” you sighed, getting up following rafe as he walked to wheezie’s door.

before walking out he turned back to wheezie and stuck his tongue out as she had done earlier. with no hesitation, wheezie returned the gesture as you smacked rafe’s head and shoved him out the door. 

[medicinemane]

I don't know... just the utter insanity of being like "I don't trust the government" only to put your full faith in the government cause you've decided that this punitive law is one you like and could totally never be used in an inappropriate way

Never trust the government man

Government needs to be forced to have full transparency and accountability and have a boot kept on it's neck at all times to make sure it's doing what we need it to... and we're not there yet, not even close. DOD can't even pass an audit man, and so many of the governmental systems as so clearly just kind of broken

So why on earth would you ever trust some new law to only be used in positive ways and not as a tool of suppression?

And part of it is about looking at laws, looking at what they say and do, looking at their scope. Like yeah, I'm pro right to repair laws because they mostly say companies can't stop me from fixing my own shit and need to make parts available (which they demonstrably don't do otherwise, which is the only reason I even want a law about it)

But like... there's a bit of a difference between the scope of a right to repair bill vs something on surveillance, or banning something like tiktok, or making it so police can arrest you for something new... never trust that stuff's going to be applied how they say it will, assume they've slipped massive overreach in the fine print, and assume that even if it's technically the most restrained bill that the feds might ignore that and use it as an excuse to trample all over your rights despite technically not being allowed to

Doesn't matter if the cop technically isn't supposed to arrest you for it, we see cases all the time where cops do shit they're not supposed to do and go after people not doing anything wrong

[buckaroosboogara]

Hi! Just wanna raise some awareness here because South America is on fucking fire and I need to see more people talking about this.

Source: RSOE EDIS x

Im just going to talk about the ones i'm closest to, but if you know about these fires, feel free to add in the reblogs!

Chile

In Chile there's (up to Feb 5) 160 wild fires, of which 40 are still trying to be controlled by authorities. The president, Gabriel Boric, has declared State of Emergency in the whole country, and theres a Red Alert Code in most part of the country.

Isla de Chiloé, Southern Chile (900 km away from Santiago de Chile)

This is a (recently controlled) fire that lasted a week, but many neighborhoods were burnt to the ground.

The whole South is in red alert for constant sudden fires that spread quickly due to the lack of rain and the elevated temperatues in the zone. Just today, two fires had to be controlled in the main land next to this island, and more are being reported in the Los Lagos region. This is added to the "controlled" intentional fires that farmers make to clean their fields of old crops along the Central-South parts of the country, mostly surrunding the main route, Ruta 5, that connects the whole country, thus making it hard to see and breathe because of the smoke. (flashnews, most of them get out of control quickly.)

Valparaiso/Vi��a del Mar, Central Chile (100 km away from Santiago de Chile)

A fire that started on Friday 2nd and grew exponentially because of the wind and the dry, hot climate. More than 100 people are dead, with 70 unrecognized bodies and other 400 that have dissapeared. At least 30000 people that have lost everything to the fire.

There's massive evacuations from this and the neighboring city, Viña Del Mar.

This is said to be the second most deadly fire in the century, surpased by Australia in 2009.

45000+ hectares that include land and neighborhoods have been burnt down.

I could go on about this one, so more info here and here

Argentina

Parque Los Alerces (Esquel), Chubut

The fire strarted on the 25th January, and the climate has made it hard to contain. 3000 hectares of native forest have been burnt to teh ground. It is now growing in the direction of the nearest city, Esquel. Theres been evacuations between yesterday and today (4 and 5th Febuary)

Parque Nahuel Huapi (Bariloche), Río Negro

The reason why im writing this. The city woke up today covered in smoke after a wildfire developed yesterday during the night. The reason? A fireplace that was not turned off in a place where people cannot disembark and can only be reached via boats.

As of now, there's not much information about the fire but hopefully the firefighters will be able to contain it before it reaches Tronador Mountain, where an ancient glaciar is.

...which leads me to the other point i wanted to talk about.

Firefighters

They volunteer to do this job.

In Argentina and Chile, firefighting is not rewarded with a salary, and most of the times they dont even have full firehouses to stay in. These people are at their houses, ready to jump into action and run to the station the second the alarm goes off.

They are neighbors, people that risk their lives and run into danger willingly, just because they want to help the community.

I felt the need to give a shout-out to these people and say:

Don't be a fucking dick, don't start fires in the woods unless it's an approved place, and if you do, TURN IT OFF.

Pour abundant water on it, and do not stop when you don't see any more flames.

Keep pouring water until the ashes don't burn/feel like room temperature in your hand if you put it 10 cm away from it, and even then, pour some more just to be sure.

No heat and no smoke mean a safely extinguished fire.

Save lives and forests.

[waitingonher]

because i love you — [hoo boys headcanons]

summary: your "thing" with the hoo boys!

author's note: in honor of the pjo series coming out today,,have this rlly rlly short draft from earlier this year! xoxo

percy jackson — doodling on him

“give me your hand.”

“yes ma’am.”

minutes pass as you doodle gods know what onto percy’s hand. you always resort to this whenever the camp head counselor's meeting begins late—which seems to be every meeting—and giving percy "tattoos" certainly kills time. last meeting, you drew a can of beans and the time before that, was a bouquet of tulips. so honestly his guess being a pair of socks this time isn’t too far of a reach.

“okay, done,” you release his hand, a proud smile gracing your features, “cute right?”

he quirks a brow upon seeing the drawing, “is that…” percy turns his head to the side, gaining better perspective, “is that a flying fish?” 

“wow, you’re good,” you say, giving him a nod of approval, “although, last time you did say that my can of beans looked like a roll of toilet paper…” 

your boyfriend throws his hands in the air, “in my defense, you used a shitty pen so it was hard to tell.” 

“whatever.” 

jason grace — sewing your initials on his clothes

“hi love,” jason says, plopping down beside you on the couch. you give him a bright smile as he places a gentle kiss on your head, “almost done?” 

nodding proudly, you hold up his pair of jeans to show him your work: your initials sewn onto a corner of his back pocket, “yup, just finished actually! what do you think of the color? i think you bought the thread for me on our second date. but i totally forgot i had it until i went digging in my supply box.” 

a grin plasters itself on jason’s face as he nods his head in realization, “i knew the color seemed familiar. i remember wondering why a tiny spool of thread was so expensive. but it’s perfect, i love it,” he kisses your cheek, “all my friends are gonna be so jealous that they don’t have their girlfriends’ initials sewn onto their clothes.” 

you laugh as you imagine jason vehemently bragging about his jeans to all his friends, “tell them i’m charging $50 if they want me to do theirs,” you wink. 

“we’d make more than the stolls’ and their smuggling business if we did that,” he laughs, admiring your work once more. who knew that having your initials on his pants would have such an affect on him, “also, can you do my sweaters and my other jeans?"

you raise a brow, "i might have to start charging you at this point."

leo valdez — impromptu fashion shows

“wow!” you clap enthusiastically, “your outfit even puts paris fashion week outfits to shame!” yes, because a rainbow checkered crop top with a humongous green tutu and a pink boa paired with insanely skinny stilettos beats any and all high fashion runway outfits, “now, leo valdez, can you give us a few words about your new clothing line? and possibly a bit about what it’s like to be so amazingly talented?” you inquire, raising an invisible microphone to his mouth. 

leo oh-so humbly bows and rises with a proud grin, “thank you, thank you, but i honestly must give all credit towards my beautiful muse, y/n, she’s the inspiration behind my new line. and about being so talented, it really is such hard work to be this naturally gifted.”

“ooh, do tell about this ‘y/n.’ i’ve never heard of her but she does sound absolutely gorgeous!” you exclaim, keeping up with the act. 

your boyfriend nods firmly, “oh yes, she’s very, very, very beautiful,” adding a playful wink, “but i must say, she has the worst morning breath i’ve ever encountered!” 

your smile drops and you squint your eyes, “i’m going to choke you with that stupid ugly boa if you don’t take that back right now.” 

“uh ma’am,” leo backs up nervously, clutching his boa, “i’m going to have to call security if you threaten me again.” 

"i'm seriously going to kill you."

[roosterforme]

Sugar and Lace | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley had a hot wife. He went wild for you in your work clothes and his worn out shirts. You didn't need any bells and whistles to look sexy, and you never would. But now that he knew what you looked like in a little lace, he needed to have that version of you, too.

Warnings: Fluff, adult language, drinking

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time but it can be read on its own! Check out my masterlist

Bradley looked at Jake over his beer, and Jake looked right back at him. The Hard Deck was virtually empty this early on a Saturday in the middle of the blazing summer heatwave, leaving the two of them very much alone together with their drinks.

"So..." Bradley said, tracing a line through the condensation on his half empty bottle. It wasn't that he disliked Jake. Not really. But he didn't know how many times he could be coerced into hanging out with him for the sake of you having a 'girls day'. It wasn't like he could complain about work to the person who annoyed the shit out of him at work yesterday.

"So..." Jake replied, picking up his drink and chugging it before signaling to Penny for two more. When he turned back, he had a smug little smile on his face that let Bradley know he was about to get annoyed again. "I'm assuming by the way your wife looks and how fucking pussy whipped you are that she has good taste in lingerie?"

Bradley sputtered, almost knocking his bottle off the high top. "Jesus fucking Christ, Hangman. What the hell kind of question is that?" He could feel heat rising in his cheeks at the memory of you prancing around the bedroom last weekend in a lacy tie dye bra and matching boy shorts. Everything you wore was sexy.

"That's obviously what they are out shopping for," Jake drawled, handing the empties to Penny as she dropped off fresh beers. Bradley waved two fingers in a half-hearted salute and then glared at Jake as he added, "Jessica specifically asked your wife to go with her. She told me she's picking out some things for the honeymoon, and you and I both know what that means. They are trying on lingerie." His smirk was back. "Together."

Bradley swallowed hard, digging his fist into his thigh. His teeth were clenched as he said, "Stop picturing my wife in lingerie."

All he got was a jovial laugh in response. "Tell me right now to my face that you're not picturing both of them wearing something tight, cropped and lacy, and I'll stop."

Bradley raked his fingers through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut against the mental image of you and Jessica in a cute little fitting room, laughing together. "God damn it, Hangman!"

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

You and Jessica were crammed into a fitting room together, trying not to laugh at the enormous stacks of cute things to try on. Your pile was on the left side of the decorative bench, and hers was on the right. You knew that Jessica Reed happened to collect lingerie in every color imaginable, but she was on a quest to find some unique things to take on her honeymoon. And you were on a quest to wow your husband with something more than a bra and boy shorts for once. 

Not that he complained. Not that he ever complained. Bradley went absolutely feral for you in your damn work clothes and loafers. He about lost his mind when you wore his ratty, old tie dye tee shirt to bed. He often sounded like he was going to need CPR when you put on his bathrobe and nothing else. It was hard to contain your smile when you just knew that something in this fitting room was going to blow his mind to the point that he would be rendered speechless.

"Try something on," Jessica suggested gently, and you took a step closer to your pile. "Then you'll get a better idea of what you like." 

There was red, green, black, white and pink fabric. There were nightgowns, thongs, bralettes and stockings. When you reached your hand out, you hesitated, confidence wavering. This seemed a lot more challenging than solving a linear algebra matrix.

Jessica whispered, "You'll look beautiful in anything, Advanced Calculus. I can promise you that." When you kind of shrugged in response, she said, "Do you want me to wait in line for my own fitting room so you can have more privacy?"

The two of you already agreed to help each other make selections, and the last thing you wanted was to keep opening the door so everyone else could see you wearing this stuff. "No. It's not that. I just... don't really own anything like this. I mean, I have a few things, but some of this is elaborate." You glanced at her over your shoulder and winced. "And this was supposed to be a shopping trip for you! For your honeymoon! Not for me."

She shushed you and then reached into your pile and pulled out a fairly innocuous looking nightie in a soft champagne color. "Start with this. Then you'll see how hot you look, and it'll be a gateway drug to you starting your own collection that will rival mine."

"I've seen your closet," you muttered, taking the hanger from her and holding the garment up in front of your body. It was pretty. The color even complimented your hair. It was a far cry from what you usually wore to bed, but you'd give it a shot.

When you started to undress, Jessica turned around and played with her phone, which you did appreciate. All of your bumps and lumps would be on display soon enough anyway, but at least you'd have a minute to straighten yourself out. The fabric was cool and slick against your skin, and you shivered as it settled high on your thighs. When you looked in the mirror and turned, you were pleasantly surprised with the result.

"It's not bad," you said, and she looked up and gasped, green eyes wide.

"It's perfect!"

"I wouldn't go that far," you muttered, smoothing your hands along your sides.

"Well, I would. And I'm sure Bradley would, too. Do you want me to take a picture on your phone?" she asked, and you nodded while she posed you with one hand on your hip. "Like I said, perfect," she muttered as she took the photo and then set your phone down again. "Try on something else."

"Okay," you whispered, reaching blindly into your pile and pulling out a black lace corset top.

Jessica jumped up and down and clapped her hands. "I love that one. I picked one up to try it on, too."

"I don't know about this," you said, holding it up in front of the nightie. "Not sure how Beer Boy is going to like it."

"You won't know until you try it on."

With those words of wisdom, you changed from the nightie to the corset, and your immediate thought was how cute this would look under your sweaters and tweed when you were at work. And it would feel amazing. It was snug and sexy, and somehow you felt like you could kick even more ass at work if you were wearing this thing.

"What the hell?" you whispered, and Jessica turned to look at you, clapping her hands once again. "I feel like I have super powers."

"Because you do! Look at you! Please let me take another picture of you to send to Bradley."

This time you posed yourself and turned so your tattoos were visible through the lace cutout on the side. Then you stood there and admired yourself before saying, "I'm definitely buying this. Catch me wearing it to work under my cardigans in the fall."

Jessica started digging into her own pile now as you changed from the corset into a bodysuit, but when she met your eyes in the mirror, she looked like she was going to freak out.

"What?" you asked. "The bodysuit looks that bad?"

She shook her head, and pressed her lips together before almost shouting, "When were you going to tell me you have a math tattoo?"

"Oh," you replied, not sure you'd ever heard her voice reach that octave before. "Euler's Identity? I've had it since I was nineteen."

"I love how you embrace your inner nerd," she said as if she was in awe of you, and you started laughing which made her laugh. "Now send those pictures to your husband and let that man worship you."

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

Bradley had just buried his face in his hands while Jake laughed when his phone went off. You hadn't even bothered to inform him that your little 'girls day outing' was a quest to make sure Jake enjoyed his honeymoon with Jessica. Honestly, Bradley kind of hoped the other man was correct in his assessment that you'd be shopping for something for yourself, too. Not that you needed it. Holy shit, you still looked like the girl he fell in love with over a decade ago whenever you wore his old Grateful Dead shirt or his robe around the house.

But now he wanted something special, too. Why should Jake get to have all the fun when it came to having his partner all wrapped up in a pretty package that was specifically meant to be removed?

"Sugar," he grunted when he saw that you'd texted him. Jake was rambling about something across the table, but Bradley couldn't hear him. He could no longer hear anything. He couldn't process thoughts or form words. All he could do was stare at the two photos you'd sent to him. "Oh, fuck."

In the first one, you were wearing a shimmery light gold colored thing that looked soft. Like maybe almost as soft as your skin. His heart hammered up into his ears as he examined every inch of it on your curves. Your nipples were pebbled against the fabric, and he could practically feel them between his lips. When he swiped to look at the second one, he abruptly stood from his stool with his phone gripped tight in his hand, eyes bugging out.

"Let me guess... your wife sent you photos?" Jake asked, clearly amused.

Instead of verbally responding, Bradley made sure his phone was tipped away from Jake as he zoomed in for a closer look. Holy hell. Your tits were being pushed up in the sexiest black lace he had ever seen. It was sinful, and now he was imagining you wearing it under one of your tweed blazers while giving a lecture. He swallowed hard, realizing he could see the tiniest bit of your tattoos through the little cutout on the side, and he actually whimpered.

"Yeah... she definitely sent you photos," Jake murmured as his own phone chimed. "Oh, Jess just sent me five."

"How did you get five?" Bradley complained, swiping back and forth, desperately looking for more. "I only got two!" 

It was then that he noticed you texted him after you sent the pictures.

What do you think, Beer Boy?

Bradley laughed a bit maniacally. What did he think about the lingerie? Ha! He could barely think at all! He paced back and forth a bit, sweating as he wrote back.

You look fucking hot as hell, Sugar. If you don't bring that black top home, I think you'll break my heart.

Bradley cringed, because now Jake was the one who was whimpering. "They're sharing a fitting room," he whispered, and Bradley's eyes went wide with the realization that Jessica must have taken the photos for you. Then his eyes narrowed as he reached for Jake's phone.

"You better not be able to see Sugar in any of the pictures!"

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

You and Jessica were wearing matching fluffy robes and sorting through everything you'd already tried on.

"You have to get that thing," you told her, pointing to the garters and stockings. "It fits you like a glove."

She nodded and added it to her 'yes' pile. "And you have to get the thong and bustier," she replied.

"I'm already buying four things," you reminded her. The bustier was nice, and your breasts looked good in it, but you didn't love the color very much. Besides, there was one last thing you hadn't tried on for fear of looking or feeling ridiculous, but there was a part of your brain that just knew your husband would love it.

"Missed one!" Jessica said, pulling on the bright pink fabric like she could read your mind. Always the best cheerleader, she held it up in front of your body and nodded. "It's bold, but I think you can pull it off."

You took it from her, but looked at yourself skeptically in the mirror. "I don't know... it's going to look bad. Like I'm trying too hard. I don't know why I even picked it up."

But you did know. Bradley was attracted to you in that dumb tie dye shirt like you were some sort of exotic bird whenever you put it on. All of the bright colors swirled into something that just lured him right to you. Part of it was nostalgia, sure, but you felt like there was something more as well.

"Actually, I do know why I picked it up," you told Jessica, holding the chemise closer to yourself. "Bradley really likes it when I wear his old shirt that I kind of held hostage for ten years. It's vibrant and bright, and I think this is the sort of thing he might enjoy?" You pursed your lips and sighed. "But, maybe I'm wrong, because he also just seems to like me how I am. No frills, you know? He's always been that way."

Jessica smiled. "Yes, I understand. And I hope you realize that you just described a man who is desperately in love with you, not just how you look. Sounds like the kind of man you should spoil a little bit." She tugged gently on the chemise and added, "This is a far cry from a tee shirt, but you won't know how you feel about it until you try it on."

"You're right."

Once you were out of the robe, you pulled the stretchy lace over your body, and gaped at the deep neckline as Jessica tied the satin ribbons around the back of your neck. You hadn't noticed before, but there were some yellow and orange threads woven in, making delicate swirls in the fabric. Almost like a different kind of tie dye. It actually looked stunning on you, and as you turned from side to side, you already knew you had to have it.

"I'm obsessed," Jessica said, bouncing excitedly as she clapped her hands together. "Should I take one last round of photos for you to send to Bradley?"

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

Bradley was lightheaded. He sweat through his shirt, and he had his forehead cradled in his hand as he opened three photos of you wearing something so bright and pink and sexy, he wanted to lick it off of you. Everything was covered up, but barely. In the one shot, he could almost see your ass. In another, he could definitely see your pert nipples. In the other one, he could make out part of your titty tattoos.

It was a good thing Jake was staring at his own phone in amazement, because Bradley was pretty sure he was drooling and incapable of formulating a sentence. He had already written back to you, begging you to buy the pink thing. Telling you he needed it. Letting you know he wanted to peel is slowly off of your body in bed later. In fact, the last thing he sent was 'Buy everything in that whole fucking store, money is no object'. And he meant every word. 

Bradley had been crazy about you for so long, and most of the appeal came from how smart you are and the fact that you weren't fussy. You let him dote on you in your work outfits. You wore his clothing around the house. You didn't need all the bells and whistles to be sexy, and you never would.

But now that he knew exactly what you looked like in black satin and colorful lace, he needed to have that version of you, too. He needed it.

"Since when does your wife have tattoos?"

Those words snapped Bradley out of his lust filled stupor, and his brown eyes bore into Jake's green ones. How did he know about your titty tattoos? When his gaze drifted back to his phone, he turned the screen toward Bradley with a grin. Apparently you had taken a photo of Jessica, in which your reflection was visible in the fitting room mirror. You were wearing a bra, and you were as covered up as you would be for a beach day, but Bradley loathed the idea of Jake having any sort of access to those tattoos.

"Hey!" Jake complained as Bradley snatched the phone and deleted the photo. "What the fuck, Bradshaw? I wanted that picture of Jessica! You could have just cropped it."

"Hey, boys!"

Bradley turned in time to toss Jake's phone aside as Jessica headed through the nearly empty bar with you following behind her. There were two enormous shopping bags in your hands, and you had a smile on your face as you asked, "Ready to go home, Beer Boy?"

"Hell yes," he murmured, closing the distance to your lips and kissing you hard. "Did you buy that pink thing? And the black one?"

His hands wound around your waist possessively, and he got even more excited as you tucked the bags behind your back and whispered, "There's only one way to find out."

Bradley started guiding you to the door. "Yeah. We're going home. Right now." He ran his nose along your cheek and gave you one more sweet kiss before shouting over his shoulder, "Thanks for the beers, Bagman. Oh, and Jessica, I need you to crop your photos better next time you take my wife shopping."

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

I love Beer Boy for making Sugar feel so good about herself every day. She's a badass, and he knows it. I wrote this as a little wedding treat for @je-suis-prest-rachel Congratulations, Rachel! And thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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[flowersforbucky]

it's nice to have a friend

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: you're having the worst period you've had in a long time. bucky is determined to help you feel better.

author's note: this is a silly and smutty piece that i felt compelled to write when i got my period a few days ago!

warnings/tags: smutty, reader has a period, langauge, use of a vibrator, nipple stimulation, no use of y/n, use of a cbd gummy lol, 18+ only

Approximately every twenty-eight days, you curse the fact that you were born with a uterus and vagina. 

This month, however, you were cursing that fact a bit earlier than expected. Cycle day twenty three, to be exact. 

Your periods never start this early, but as soon as you opened your eyes at six o'clock this morning, you knew what had occured while you were asleep. You could feel the moisture that soaked through your underwear and pajama pants before you could turn on the light to see that your white sheets had been dyed bright crimson beneath where you'd been laying. 

One load of laundry with extra stain remover and as much Pamprin max strength as one can safely take later, you are curled up on the couch of the compound's living room with a cup of coffee and a heating pad turned up so high that you risk first degree burns. 

“Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you today? We can go to Coney Island another time,” Natasha tries to reason with you once again. 

“I promise I'll be okay here,” you assure her. “These cramps are killing me, I won't be any fun to hang out with today. Go, enjoy yourself. When is the next time that you'll all have a free day and weather this perfect?” You gesture towards the sunshine streaming through the living room windows. 

“If you're sure,” she caves after a few moments of hesitation. “Promise I’ll win you that stuffed panda that you wanted so badly last time.” 

“I am going to hold you to that,” you tell her in a faux-serious tone. 

After Natasha and the rest of your friends have left for their day of riding rollercoasters and eating hotdogs on the boardwalk, you turn on your comfort show and settle in for an unexciting and uncomfortable day by yourself. 

A few hours later, you decide you've sat in the same position for long enough - you can practically feel your body morphing to the sofa. You're walking to the kitchen to refill your water bottle and find something to snack on when you collide with what feels like a brick wall. 

A brick wall that happens to smell really, really fucking good. 

You step back, finding that the brick wall is staring at you with a confused look on his face. 

"What are you doing here?” Bucky asks as he glances you over from head to toe, taking in your choice of apparel - baggy sweats that are about two sizes too big for you, a cropped tank, and fuzzy slippers. You resist the urge to cross your arms over your stomach - you didn't think anyone else would be here today and the tank top you're wearing doesn't exactly conceal the period bloat you're currently experiencing. 

"I live here,” you snap, a bit harsher than necessary. “What are you doing here?” 

“I also live here,” he says, returning your attitude. You roll your eyes, maneuvering your way around where he blocks the doorway. 

“What I mean,” he continues as he turns around, following you into the kitchen. “Is why aren't you with everyone at Coney Island?” 

“I could ask you the same question,” you challenge, pouring some more ice into your cup. “Steve never shuts up about the glory days, all the time the two of you spent at Coney Island. I'm surprised you're not there with him right now.” 

He huffs a laugh, pulling out one of the barstools at the kitchen's giant island and taking a seat. “We did spend a ridiculous amount of time at Coney Island,” he admits, his voice almost wistful. He hesitates before continuing, staring down at his hands as he traces a metal crevice on his left palm.

"But I haven't been to Coney Island since the forties. Guess I'm kinda scared it won't live up to my memories of it. Plus, I had a lot of laundry to catch up on, so..” he shrugs, trailing off. 

You're taken aback by the honesty of his explanation. “Yeah, well,” you start awkwardly, turning away from him to search through a cabinet for something to eat. “I can't say that I know what it was like in the forties, but it's one of my favorite places, present day.” 

“Then why are you hanging out by yourself while all of your friends are at one of your favorite places?” 

Damn it, you curse internally. He's really not going to drop this. What should I say, that my uterine lining is falling out in clumps? 

You grab a bag of freeze-dried fruit from the cabinet before turning back to face him, trying to come up with an excuse. 

“I just didn't sleep great–” you come to an abrupt stop in the middle of your sentence as a blinding pain shoots through your lower abdomen. The bag of fruit falls to the floor as you steady yourself on the ledge of the counter with one hand, clutching your stomach with the other. 

Bucky rises from his seat in an instant, closing the several feet of distance between the two of you in one big step. 

"Are you okay? What’s going on?” His hands are both extended to you in an offer of help. 

“I'm fine,” you say through a sharp intake of breath. “It’s.. it’s just cramps. Bad cramps,” you force the words out, propping your elbows up on the countertop to relax your body weight. 

“Oh,” he says as realization dawns on him. He bends down to grab the bag of fruit that lays next to your feet, and then places it on the table in front of you. “I guess that answers my question, then,” he adds, referring to why you didn't go to Coney Island. 

“Ya think?” You stand back upright, grabbing your snack and water bottle off of the counter. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a busy day of bed-rotting ahead of me.” 

“Some exercise would help,” he calls when you're about to exit the kitchen. “Laying in bed won't do much for you. A little bit of light exercise to release some beta-endorphins, maybe an abdominal massage–” 

“Are you really man-splaining menstrual cycle pain management to me right now?” You ask, slowly turning to face him with an incredulous look on your face. “I wasn't aware that you had a medical license or that I asked for your opinion.” 

“Just trying to help, sweetheart,” he shrugs with a mischievous grin. 

“If you want to help, you can go get the Italian food that I'm craving and give me an abdominal massage yourself,” you practically spit at him. “Otherwise, keep the unsolicited advice to yourself and fuck off.” 

You turn back around and all but run out of the room before you can process the shocked, albeit pleased look on his face.  

After you've closed your bedroom door behind you (with perhaps a bit more force than necessary), you sink into the fresh sheets on your bed and shove several pieces of apricot into your mouth. 

Rationally, you knew that Bucky's advice was solid, and that he was just trying to get a reaction out of you. That's just the kind of friendship that the two of you have. Sarcastic, teasing and occasionally… tension-filled. 

You definitely didn't help the matter by telling him to massage your abdomen, but what does he expect when he suggests something as horrible as exercising during a time that you simply want nothing more than to melt into your mattress? 

Your cell phone chimes from the pocket of your sweatpants. You dig it out and look at the text displayed across your lock screen. 

Bucky Barnes: What kind of Italian food, specifically? 

You would never admit it to him, but the corners of your mouth tug upwards into a smirk as you read his message. 

You type: Don't you have a lot of laundry to catch up on? and press send. The message is marked as “read” right away. 

He types. And types. And types some more – until those three dots indicating a message in progress disappear. 

Whatever. You click your phone off and toss it somewhere in the covers around you. 

The next couple hours are spent sitting under the near scalding stream of your shower, and then reading on your Kindle in the dark. As jealous as you are that your friends are undoubtedly having a blast today, you honestly don't mind your current situation - aside from feeling like your organs are being pulled out of your vagina, you hardly ever have days with zero obligations other than to just relax in whatever way you see fit. 

A strong knock on your door causes you to lose your place on the page. 

"You didn't give me a legitimate answer so I hope you like gnocchi, or eggplant parmesan, or traditional lasagna, or extra breadsticks..” 

“You know, it's not funny to joke about carbs to someone when they are–” 

You come to a stop in the middle of your sentence when you swing your door open to see him holding several plastic bags. An aroma of garlic and herbs hits you in the face. 

Oh. Not a joke, then. 

He extends one of the bags to you with his big, blue puppy dog eyes. You take it from him, opening the door further as an invitation to enter your bedroom. 

"Consider this a peace offering,” he says, placing the other bags of food on your bed and perching awkwardly on the edge of your mattress. You close the door behind you, walking back to where you had previously been lounging on the bed. 

“I'm sorry for being a smartass,” he adds more genuinely. “I just.. didn't like seeing you in pain. That's all.” 

“This is far from my first period,” you shrug, not meeting his stare. “You get used to it after a while. But consider yourself forgiven.” 

He gives you a small smile when you finally look up at him. He grabs a smaller bag that you hadn't noticed him carrying, one that is visibly less full than the others. He reaches inside, pulling out a small jar that he hands over to you. 

Your brows furrow as you inspect it closely. “CBD gummies?” You ask, your brows now raising quizzically. You open the jar, popping one of the pink, cube-shaped gummies into your mouth. “Watermelon flavored CBD gummies?” 

You notice the faintest trace of blush bloom across his cheeks. “I take them sometimes to help me sleep,” he starts, fiddling with some of the beading on your comforter. “But they can help with all different kinds of pain too, so I just thought you might like some.” 

You close the jar, placing it on your bedside table before reaching over and grabbing his flesh hand in yours. “Thank you, Bucky,” you say, giving his hand a squeeze and then releasing it. “Really. I appreciate all of this.” You try to ignore the jolt of electricity that buzzes through you when your skin comes in contact with his. His hand is both softer and warmer than you would have imagined. It brings you back to the last words that you spewed at him in the kitchen earlier. 

"A shit ton of pasta and CBD gummies,” you snort a laugh. “Would I be pushing my luck if I asked for that abdominal massage too?” You say it in a way that sounds halfway serious, halfway joking. 

“If that's what you want,” he says lowly, turning to angle his body towards you on the bed. “Then just say the word.” 

The air in your room suddenly feels suffocating. 

It is what you want - but you're at a loss for words. So instead of a verbal response, you scoot over to the middle of the bed, closer to where he sits on the opposite side. You lay down so that your back is flat against the mattress, your head propped up by a single pillow. 

Bucky's eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly wipes the look of astonishment from his features. He moves so that he's sitting directly next to your legs, giving him a proper angle to put his hands on your lower stomach. 

You're wearing the same sweatpants and tank top from earlier, having thrown the outfit back on after your shower. The loose sweatpants hang low enough to expose your hip bones and the edge of your underwear. 

The intimacy of the entire situation hits you the second that his hands make contact with your skin. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, perhaps sensing your nerves. “Or if I do anything that doesn't feel good.” 

Your eyes shut instinctively at the polar opposite sensations of his flesh and vibranium hands. Skin and metal, fire and ice.

“I will,” you assure him. Your words come out breathier than intended. 

There's an immediate relief in your lower stomach as he rubs languid circles across your midriff. It's a feeling beyond pleasure as the cramps fade the more he touches you. 

His vibranium pinky dances along the waistband of your underwear, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin. You try to focus on the relief he's bringing you - not the fact that you're wearing a thin tank top that leaves so much of your skin on display, giving him a clear view of the goosebumps that he's caused. 

He continues with the precise motions until the pain in your abdomen has faded nearly entirely - you feel so good that you can't stop yourself from letting out the smallest moan when his flesh hand applies just the right amount of pressure near your pelvis. 

You know he heard it - there's no way he didn't. Just as you know there's no way that he doesn't notice your fully hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your tank top. 

You keep your eyes closed, terrified to meet his gaze in this state. You dread the moment that you feel his hands pull away from your skin. 

"You know,” he starts, his voice possessing a strained edge. “I don't think this is good enough for you.” 

Your eyes shoot open, looking at him in a nervous confusion. There's a glimmer in his eyes that you can't quite pinpoint - his stare trailing to your bedside table on the opposite side of you. “But I think I do know what could make you feel much better.” 

“What are you talking about?” Your voice quivers as you follow his stare. You're not sure what he's looking at - all that sits on your nightstand is the CBD gummies he had just given you, your Kindle, a few books, a bottle of lotion, and the Himalayan salt lamp that paints you both in an orange glow. 

He smirks before leaning across you - keeping his vibranium hand pressed firmly on your belly as he uses his flesh hand to pull open the drawer of the small table. 

“Hey! What are you–” but he retrieves the object he’s looking for before you can finish questioning him. You freeze at what he's holding in his hand. 

Your vibrator. Your glittery, lavender colored vibrator. 

“How the fuck did you–” 

“Do you think I can't hear you using this from across the hallway late at night?” He grins smugly. “That I can't hear your little whimpers when you think everyone's asleep?” 

Your face heats up a hundred degrees. You don't know whether to be infuriated or massively turned on. 

Both. You're definitely feeling a mix of both. 

He clicks the power button, turning on the device to its lowest setting. He watches you for a moment, giving you ample time to tell him to fuck off.

Instead, you once again relax against the pillow, your body going limp for him. You spread your legs the slightest bit. 

He takes this as his signal to proceed. Not taking his eyes off of your face, he trails the head of the wand from your lower stomach and over the fabric of your sweatpants until he reaches the apex of your thighs. Your nipples pucker once again, your thighs clenching around the tip of the vibrator. 

Bucky moves the device in a circular motion, making your back arch off the bed and your head tip back. 

How is it that it feels better when he massages you with it through your fucking pants than it does when you use it on your bare pussy? 

You hear the clicking of a button again, and the force of the vibration over your clothed cunt increases. You grind down on the device, desperate for friction. 

Bucky watches you with something akin to pride on his face. 

“You know how I told you to tell me if I do something you don't like?” He asks as he pushes the head of the wand directly down on your clit with the perfect amount of pressure. 

“Yeah,” you answer - it comes out like a moan that you'd hear in a porno.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Remember that.” 

Before you can clear your head enough to wonder what he means, he's tugging up the cotton fabric of your tank top and exposing your breasts. 

You gasp at the sensation of the cool air blowing from the AC coming in contact with your already hard nipples. Bucky leans forward, keeping the vibrator on your core, and captures one of your nipples in his mouth. 

Your hand immediately goes to his hair, tugging the soft brown locks in your fingers to keep him in place. His free hand grasps your other breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. 

The combination of pleasure radiating from your pussy and his hand and mouth on you is fucking perfect. Fucking perfect, and all too much. 

You clench your thighs together, riding against the vibrator until you feel warmth spreading through your lower belly. 

“Oh my god, Bucky,” you moan - he groans when you say his name, the vibration sending you tumbling over the edge. You come hard, possibly harder than any other orgasm you've had in your life, thoroughly soaking your panties. 

When you've finished writhing beneath him, Bucky pulls back, removing both his mouth and the vibrator. He clicks the device off, tossing it towards the foot of your bed. 

You're panting, staring up at the ceiling, trying to process what the fuck just happened when you hear Bucky let out a low chuckle. 

Your eyes snap to him, finding that he looks thoroughly pleased with himself. 

"Can't say that's how I expected the day to go when I decided to sit this Coney Island trip out,” he sighs. 

“You can say that again.” You sit upright, bending your legs and crossing them at the ankles. You lean forward, tugging your shirt back into place before pulling one of the bags of food to you. 

"We should go sometime soon. Together,” you add, somewhat nervously. You aren't sure why - the guy just gave you the best orgasm of your life (and barely even touched you). 

“Are you asking me on a date?” that sly smile reappears. 

You shrug. “Yeah, I suppose I am.” 

"Then my answer is yes. But only if you share some of this food with me.” 

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist

thanks so much for reading!!! can anyone tell that i really fucking love food by how often i incorporate it into my writing? 😅

[spencerreidenjoyer]

guess | spencer reid x reader

wc: 2.3k, rating: explicit/18+

tags/warnings: slight exhibitionism/voyeurism, alcohol consumption (reader is not drunk during sex), lingerie, munch!spencer, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

a/n: heavily inspired by guess by charli xcx ft. billie eilish, specifically billie's verse. yes the song dropped yesterday. yes i listened to the song once and decided to write a fic about it. i'm insane about s7/8 reid rn so :) (also posted on ao3!)

You swear you don’t mean to show off, but the miniskirt you’re in doesn’t help your case in the slightest.

Spencer had told you to join him at the bar for drinks with his coworkers, the bar just a couple blocks down from the club you were at with your friends. Your boyfriend had been away for most of this week and you really wanted to see him, so you don’t think twice about popping by to see Spencer. Besides, you hadn’t seen Penelope, JJ and Emily in a while either, and those girls treat you too kindly.

You realise how skimpily dressed you are when you walk into the bar, though, when you approach the very properly-dressed group of FBI agents at a booth in the corner. Your top is cropped and low-cut, revealing your cleavage, and you were wearing a little black miniskirt, the hem of which barely skirted the tops of your thighs.

Spencer has never commented on your fashion choices, often being the very satisfied recipient of your sometimes revealing outfits. But as you greet the BAU, his eyes are dark and hungry as they roam your figure. You smile at him with a whispered “Hi, baby,” before you kiss him chastely. The look on Spencer’s face is unreadable, other than the fact that you know he appreciates the view.

His gaze darts up at Derek from across the booth when he whistles at you.

“Looking good, mama.” Derek waggles his eyebrows at you, earning him a smack to the chest from Penelope and a hearty chuckle from Emily.

You lean over to hug JJ, Penelope and Emily in that order on the other side of the table, and you feel Spencer’s hand quickly snake across your waist, pulling you back to sit down. You glance over at him briefly, but he only keeps his gaze straight ahead.

“You are one lucky guy, Reid,” Emily laughs, and you feel Spencer’s arm curl around you tighter, pulling you in closer.

The rest of the night is pretty fun, cracking jokes and talking with Spencer’s team, but with the alcohol in your system from earlier, it only takes a few more drinks for you to get drunk. You’re extra giggly, half-sitting in Spencer’s lap, his hand not leaving your side. You feel the rumble in his chest when he speaks, saying, “I think we’re going to head home first. This one here seems a little drunk already.”

“I’m not drunk,” you lilt, rolling your eyes. You lay your head on Spencer’s shoulder, blinking hard before you meet Penelope’s gaze. You hear Emily defending you about how you aren’t drunk, but Penelope smiles at you and says, “I think boy genius is right.”

You frown deeply, almost comically so. “Penny! You’re supposed to back me up here!”

Penelope laughs, always so kind to you. “Come on, honey. Let Reid take you home.”

You huff, crossing your arms like a petulant child. You don’t notice the way Spencer’s gaze darts down to your chest shamelessly. Derek whistles, and you assume Spencer must glare at him because Derek is raising his hands in surrender, telling Spencer he doesn’t mean anything. What were they even talking about? You don’t know, but Spencer is murmuring in your ear about getting a taxi home, and after you say goodbye to all of his friends, you’re letting him guide you out of the bar and into the cool night.

You shiver, the very little fabric you have on not doing you any favours when the temperature drops. Spencer is quick to shrug off his jacket and help you put it on. His jacket is long enough on you, considering Spencer’s height, to cover your skirt.

“I swear alcohol’s supposed to warm you up,” you grumble, holding your arms close to your chest as you try to stay warm. “I’m fucking freezing.”

“You feel warmer for a bit because the alcohol is a vasodilator – it causes the blood vessels under your skin to dilate, increasing blood flow, which makes you feel warmer. If you drink more, the higher levels of alcohol actually work to shrink your blood vessels instead and make you feel cold. Do you have a headache?”

You shake your head, but take the chance to snuggle up to Spencer now. “You feel nice and warm.”

“Good,” Spencer says, holding you close. In no time, he flags down a taxi, and you two pile in and drive towards his apartment.

Spencer’s hand is drawing circles into the side of your thigh, mindless, but the touch is incredibly distracting. You ask him softly, “You’ve been touching me all night, Spence. Something on your mind?”

“You,” he whispers back. “Can’t stop thinking about your underwear.”

You squeak at his brazenness, smacking his chest. “You– Spencer!”

“I got a good look when you were practically bent over the table just now,” Spencer continues, his voice a low rumble in his throat. “Didn’t even give me a chance to guess.”

You gape at him like a fish, but Spencer smiles and murmurs in your ear, “You know how much I love when you wear that lacy black pair.”

You bite down on your lip, trying not to moan like a whore in the back of this taxi. You just look at him, silently wishing he’d do something. Spencer presses a kiss to your jaw, and you feel your cheeks heat.

Thankfully, the driver is quick to announce that you’re at your destination, and you and Spencer stumble out of the cab quicker than you’d like to admit. Spencer doesn’t even wait for his change before he slams the car door shut.

Spencer crowds you against the back of the elevator, an old, rickety thing with no camera, so you feel less bad when Spencer slips his hand under your skirt and past your panties, his finger sliding between your wet folds. “Spencer!”

“You’re so wet for me already,” Spencer groans, kissing down your neck desperately. His fingers are so tantalising, rubbing up against your clit, your hole. “You’re so sexy.”

“Spencer,” you whine. “Hurry up and fuck me.”

The elevator doors creak open on Spencer’s floor. “Let’s go, then.”

Spencer barely locks the door behind you before he’s kissing you, eager and sloppy and desperate. It’s so hot, his large hands on your waist pulling you closer to him, and you feel the growing problem in the front of his pants.

“Spencer,” you moan. You feel his hands push up your skirt, feel him wedge his leg between your thighs. You must be soaked through your underwear by now, and you shamelessly rut your hips forward to grind against his leg.

“You know I love your fashion sense, my love, but this is slutty even for you.” Spencer’s voice is dark when he says it, and you whimper. “You’re dressed like you want somebody else’s attention.”

Your eyes widen and you look up at him. “No!”

“Derek was eyeing you like a piece of meat earlier. Emily, too.” Spencer frowns.

“I only want you, baby,” you insist, holding onto Spencer’s arms. “Only want you to notice me.”

“I am the only one who knows the colour of your underwear,” Spencer hums, his fingers skirting the waistband of your panties. “And fuck, you look good in them.”

“Please, Spence,” you whine, your plea lilting off into a gasp as Spencer lifts you, getting you to wrap his legs around him. You’d seen how he looked when he was younger, so scrawny he looked like he’d get swept away if the wind blew too hard, but now, he’s got more meat on his bones. His body is a pleasure to look at, let alone feel under your hands, which you’re happy to do now.

You touch the firm lines of his body through his shirt, as Spencer carries you to his bedroom. You mumble, hands frisky, “You’re so hot.”

“Says you,” Spencer smiles. “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby.”

You grin as he lays you on his bed, gasping when he slides his palm over your wet cunt through your underwear. His thumb flicks over your clit through the lace, the material dulling the electrifying sensation. you whine, “Spencer, please.”

Spencer tsks, looking down at you. “Let me take my time with you, darling. You’ve been teasing me all evening.”

He presses his thumb against your clit a little harder, making you moan loudly. While he tends to tower over you in bed, you also deeply appreciate the view of him getting on his knees so he can make a home between your thighs. His hair is wild, unruly, and you run your hand through it, admiring it. Keeping your gaze, Spencer leans down to kiss your pussy.

You feel his warm breath on you, the scratch of his stubble on your skin, pinned down simply by his gaze as his tongue darts out to lick you over your underwear. You whimper, as Spencer wraps his arms around each of your thighs, using you as an anchor as he presses his face between your legs.

You sob, because what Spencer’s giving you just isn’t enough, not when you need to feel his tongue on your cunt. He thumbs at your hole through the fabric, dipping into your wetness in a cruel approximation of the pleasure he usually gives you.

“Fuck me,” you groan. “Take my panties off already.”

“Not yet,” Spencer hums. Instead, he pushes your panties to the side, lets his fingers slide over your cunt. You gasp at the sensation, his rough, calloused fingers sliding over your wetness, and then you feel the warmth of his tongue.

The sounds his mouth makes as he eats you out are filthy, obscene. His tongue flicks over your cunt with a practised precision, familiar with what makes you tick, the wet, slick sounds too overwhelming. Your toes are curling with how good Spencer makes you feel – legs trembling, breathing heavy. You can’t stop the whimpers that leave your lips, almost helpless in the way you moan for him.

“Please,” your voice is shaky as you cry out for Spencer. “I need you so bad, baby."

Spencer hums against your cunt, the vibrations sending shocks up your spine in your pleasure. “Okay, my darling.”

Finally, finally, he’s sitting up and pulling your panties down, your little skirt still pushed up to expose your cunt. You look up at him, silently wondering why he hasn’t taken it off. He plays with the soft fabric in his hands almost absentmindedly and says, “I think we should keep it on.”

You blink up at him, not coherent enough to say anything about it. Instead, you watch him take his shirt off – you whistle at the sight, while he just rolls his eyes. He unbuckles his belt and push his pants down, his cock bobbing up, hard and red and leaky. You bite your lip, thinking about how he’ll feel inside of you.

“Kiss me,” you whine, and Spencer smiles at you. He tastes of you when his lips press against yours, and he’s quick to deepen it, his tongue in your mouth, like he's close to devouring you whole.

While he kisses you hungrily, you feel his hand between your legs, moving to line himself up with your entrance. You moan as the blunt head of his cock presses up against your hole, the sensation you’ve been craving all evening. Cruelly, he rubs up against you just like that, sliding between your folds but not giving you the satisfaction you need. You’re close to biting his head off.

“Spencer–” you start, but Spencer decides to press his cock into you right at that moment, and you sob with the way his thick length splits you open. Every time he fucks you, you feel like he was made for you, filling you up in all the right ways, feeling so perfect on top of you, inside of you.

You meet his lips and kiss him lazily as he starts to thrust into you, at the perfect pace, just deep enough to hit all the right spots. It’s too good, Spencer knowing you and your pleasure like the back of his hand.

“Fuck,” Spencer groans against your mouth, finally showing some sign of his unravelling. “You’re so tight, darling.”

You gasp, groaning his name, legs wrapped around his waist to pull him closer, feeling like you could fuse into one person with how much you’re clinging onto him. You press your forehead to his shoulder, moans punched out of you with every one of Spencer’s thrusts.

“Feels– Feels so good, Spence, love you,” you cry.

“I love you too,” Spencer groans, voice low and rumbly in his chest. “You’re so perfect, my love.”

You sob as your orgasm hits you, crashing into you like a tidal wave. You shake as you come, feeling so positively overwhelmed with the way Spencer fucks you, the way he holds you, the way he kisses you. You can’t feel your legs as you come down from your high, head spinning with all the pleasure. “Spence…”

“I’m– Fuck–” Spencer’s tripping over his own words as he comes right alongside you, your clenched pussy sending him over the edge too. He blows his load deep inside you, sticky and hot and so satisfying. You can feel how hard he’s breathing as your mind clears, his arms trembling as he holds himself up so he doesn’t end up collapsing onto you.

“You’re perfect,” you hum in Spencer’s ear, soft and gentle as you kiss the side of his head. You pull him in close, letting him rest his weight onto you, and your hand goes to stroke his hair softly. “So good. I love you.”

“Thank you. I love you more,” Spencer groans, his voice a little raspy already. “I’m sorry if I was too possessive over you in front of my friends tonight."

“All is forgiven, especially since you were sexy as fuck,” you grin up at him. “You’re always sexy.”

“Says the girl in a miniskirt and black lace panties.” Spencer smiles.

“All the more I know what I’m talking about, then,” you giggle, before kissing him slow.