#i will invest in actual trousers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moongreenlight · 7 months

Text

Headcanons for Captain John Price and his VERY young housewife.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

Like unsure if you’ve graduated university yet young. Like he’s gotta be 13 years your senior at minimum. And he eats that shit up. Loves the way people stare and whisper when he parades you around, massive hand planted just above your ass

He’s like Simon in that he prefers you stay at home where he can keep you safe. Hires maids and housekeepers and cooks so your only responsibility is lounge and look pretty. You’re his biggest trophy. Like a prize show cat. Keeping you groomed and pampered and happy. Purring into his hand the moment he comes home.

Lowkey gets so sour when you send the cook home for the day and make dinner yourself. Not that you aren’t a fantastic cook, he just doesn’t want you to lift a finger. Doesn’t like the idea of you accidentally cutting yourself with a kitchen knife or burning yourself on a hot stove. Wants you to just be a trophy on his shelf.

Doesn’t even like the idea of you showering by yourself. Gives you bubble baths so that he can be sure you’re perfectly preened because obviously he’s the only one that knows exactly how to take care of you.

LOOOOOVES that even though you’re so young you fit in perfectly with the other housewives in the neighborhood. Going to spin classes in the early morning, book club, brunch, shopping at the most expensive grocery stores.

Literally treats you like a pedigreed cat. Weekly manicures and pedicures that he’s put his card on file for. You just walk in and they know you’re Price’s wife and that your appointments are prepaid.

And pre-tipped obvi. GENEROUS with his money when it comes to you. And there’s probably a note under your profile that you’re to be paid careful attention. God forbid they accidentally graze your skin with the nail file and hurt his pretty kitty.

Facials and hair appointments biweekly that are the exact same way.

Your picture is posted at the gate of the base because all the guards are expected to know their chain of command and wave them in without question. He just loves that your status as his wife is enough to get you the VIP treatment you deserve.

His ultimate goal is to make you a young mom. Even though you’ve only been married for a year and you’re like 22 he’s actually so pissed that you’re not bouncing a baby on your hip.

Bet he loves the idea of his kids getting bullied because their mom is hot.

Brings you around base for the sole purpose of showing off. Purposely leaves his lunch at home just so you come see him.

The first time you ever met the task force boys he’d asked you to bring something DUMB up. Like a water bottle or something. Who cares. You end up accidentally interrupting the meeting they’re having and Price pulls you onto his lap before introducing you as his wife. Soap and Gaz are kicking each other under the table. Swear to god Gaz does that cartoon gulp. Soap looks like he’s about to explode.

Probably calls you his ‘old lady’ but with the most disgustingly smug smirk on his face.

Btw if you even care you’re such a trophy to him and he’s so invested in his team that he wants to share you with the guys. There’s no ‘I’ in team. So confident in knowing that he’s the only one that can truly pamper you properly that he doesn’t mind using you as leverage to get them to perform well.

Oh Soap did really well on the last mission? He can come to dinner with you guys. Price will dress you up nice and let Soap wrap his arm around your waist when you walk in. Then Price will invite him back for a nightcap and instruct you to drop down between his thighs. Coaching you through the process of palming him through his trousers, unzipping them, springing his cock free from his underwear, taking just the tip into your mouth. Being soooo nice about letting you take your time adjusting your throat. “It’s different, doll. I know. Being so good.” Until he finally snaps and fists the back of your hair, pushing you all the way down so that the room is echoing your lewd, wet gags and moans. He doesn’t let Soap come in your mouth, though. That’s a luxury only he can afford.

And you’re soooooooo happy to do whatever John asks. He treats you so well. The least you can do is oblige his requests every once in a while. He asks so little of you. Plus no other cock compares to his. Even after getting fucked dumb by Ghost, drooling down your chin, you find it in you to look for him. Pupils blown-out, whining softly up to him. Weak and slurring “Need you, daddy. Need you.”

That last part is only if you care tho. I’m normal about it. It’s fine.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod x reader #drabble #headcanon #141 headcanons #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain John price smut #john price #captain price #captain price smut

6K notes · View notes

myfictionaldreams · 1 year

Text

Day 31: Voyeurism/Exhibition - Remus + James/Sirius

Kinktober Day 31: Voyeurism/Exhibition - Remus xf!reader + James/Sirius

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom/sub, dubious content, making out, james/sirius being meanies, flirting, anxiety, teasing, voyeurism, exhibition, masturbation (male), listening to sex, thigh riding, oral (f receiving), praise kink, intense orgasm, multiple orgasms, spooning sex, sucking fingers, size kink, squirting, cockwarming, nicknames, no use of y/n

A/N: Here it is, the final kinktober day! Thank you to everyone who has read, left a comment or liked any of the chapters, I really appreciate every single one of you. Bring on next year!

my main masterlist 📚 // kinktober masterlist😈 // AO3 Link

It was late in the evening, almost everyone had already retired to bed but not the four of you. James and Sirius were positioned on the sofa, discussing the latest game of quidditch that they’d played against Hufflepuff, not that you were listening.

No, you were more invested in the soft lips that were steadily moving against yours, the faint rough feeling of stubble brushing against your cheeks and the overwhelming smell of Remus’ cologne turning you into a puddle in his lap. His tongue began to gently move against yours, head tilting to move deeper, your fingers gripping his collar as if your life depended on it as he was leaving soft strokes against your skin.

It was only as pure silence surrounded you, making you keenly aware that James and Sirius had stopped talking did you stop. Pulling away from the kiss abruptly, you glanced over to see them both watching you intently, sly smirks on both of their faces.

“Don’t stop on our account darling”, Sirius remarked, eyes almost black as they trailed up your body. Heat enveloped every inch of skin as you quickly hid your face in Remus’ neck, pure embarrassment pulsing through you.

“Aww don’t be shy” Remus coos at you, attempting to pull your head back so you were forced to look up at him. “You can’t be embarrassed by a little bit of kissing when they hear us most nights”.

Even more heat radiated from your body as your heart began to pound in your chest. “I thought you put a silencing spell around the bed?” you asked, begging in your mind for him to be lying.

“I do… some of the time”, your eyes drop, hands falling into your lap.

“Oh, Remus you feel so good! ah, Remus just like that! Please Remmie don’t stop!” Sirius teased in a high-pitched voice, James laughing along with him. Your thoughts were on overdrive, thinking about the hours and hours you’d had sex with Remus and they’d actually heard some of it, heard your most vulnerable and intimate of moments.

“Alright, boys that’s enough” Remus chastises them whilst laughing at your expression, pulling you closer to his body. “Let’s go to bed baby, get away from these meanies”.

Remus helps you up and you could hardly look him in the eyes let alone his friends as you rushed up to the dormitory. Heart still pounding as you removed your trousers, and shirt and slid into bed before your boyfriend had even made it into the room. He too removes his clothes before climbing into bed, lying in the centre and holding you on his chest just as James and Sirius entered the room.

With a flick of his wand, the curtain around Remus’ bed began to close but not before James muttered, “goodnight sweetheart, don’t keep the noise down tonight”.

You tried to ignore him and cuddled in close to Remus, closing your eyes but you couldn’t stop thinking about it, even as your boyfriend's body heat warmed your body, lips kissing your hairline softly and hands gently massaging your spine to help relax you. It didn’t work, however. Had they actually heard you? Been listening to the numerous times that the two of you had had sex? But also, why were you becoming slick between your legs at the thought of the two of them in their beds getting turned on by just you having sex?

“Remmie” you whispered, knowing sleep wasn't going to be coming to you anytime soon.

“Mmm,” he responded, opening his eyes to look down at you, his large hand settling on your head, massaging it just the way you liked it.

“Do you actually let them listen to us?” you kept your voice quiet so the others couldn’t hear you.

Remus smirked in the darkness, then began shifting in the bed so that he moved down, turning on his side so the two of you were face to face, his warm breath caressing against your cheeks. His large fingers cradled your cheek, thumb stroking against your cheekbone in a positive distraction as you were quick to nuzzle into the soft touches.

As he answered, he slide his thigh between your legs, letting it rest against your pantie-covered centre, “would you be angry if I did?”

“But why-why would you do that? It’s so embarrassing Remus” you muttered with anxiety dripping in your tone.

“Shhh sweet girl, it’s not embarrassing, it’s liberating” as he spoke, your boyfriend shifted closer, kissing your cheek where his hand had been caressing, once again trying to distract you. “Do you know how fucking hot it is knowing that just your sweet moans are making other guys touch themselves, wishing that they were me? I couldn’t be greedy and keep those beautiful sounds of you cuming to myself now could I?”

You attempted to respond but found yourself stuttering over your words, not sure what to say, instead of being embarrassed, you were being turned on by his confidence-boosting revelations. “But-but that-”

Remus’ lips are on yours, cutting off your unknown sentence, shutting you up effectively.

“Want to know something? Whilst you’re making these soft little moans that I love so much”, Remus moves his thigh higher, rubbing against your cunt. “I get you all to myself whilst they’re only left with their hands, therefore, I. Win.”

Your skin felt like it was burning, hands delicately trembling on his shoulders as his sinful mouth trailed open-mouthed kisses down your chin and jaw.

“Remmie” your head tilted back as you moaned his name, still trying to remain quiet. Remus continued to hover over your body, hands gripping onto your waist, his thigh still rubbing against your cunt, leaving you wanting more, a good distraction.

“What do you want? Do you want me to stop?” he asked in a teasing manner, not giving time to answer before his head was moving south and his full lips were sealing around your peaked nipple, sucking it into his mouth. Your back arched, trying to move closer, hands gripping painfully into his hair, holding him to you. Releasing your nipple with an audible ‘pop’, he looked at you in the darkness, “or do you want me to keep going?”

You were so lost in his touch, you weren’t even sure you could respond. It was like there was an angel and a demon on either shoulder, one begging you to continue, needing him to touch you more but the other bellowing to stop, knowing James and Sirius were likely listening to the encounter, feeling embarrassed.

Remus felt the tension and rested his weight on his arms on either side of your head, “I won’t continue unless you talk to me, I want to hear that pretty voice of yours”.

As he spoke, his thigh moved rougher against your soaked pussy only causing you to moan rather than talk, eyebrows knitting together as your fingers moved from his shoulders to his defined chest, you knew what you wanted.

“I want you Remmie, please don’t stop” you finally coherently spoke, eyes closing as you zoned into the pleasure that was shooting between your legs. Your boyfriend didn’t respond with words, instead, his lips were instantly on yours, feverishly kissing, nipping your bottom lip until it snapped back, tongue dancing with yours until both of your lungs were aching from lack of oxygen.

With less than an inch between your faces, he whispered into the darkness, low enough that the other boys didn’t hear, wanting the reward for you and only you. “Good girl, my good girl”.

You groaned at the praise, feeling confident once more as he shifted down the bed, easing your panties down with him before his hands eagerly gripping onto your thighs, pushing them back until your knees were almost either side of your head, completely exposing your dripping cunt to him, he could see the wetness even in the dark.

All you were able to do was grip his hands on your thighs before his tongue was pushing between your folds, lapping up every drop like a starved man. The thick muscle delved into your quivering hole, stretching it slightly before sucking your throbbing clit into his mouth.

He watched over your mound, eyes watching your every movement. Seeing the way you were so intensely being pleasured, his mouth touching every part of your pussy with skilful licks.

Turning your head to the side, you were conscious to muffle your moans, hiding your face into the pillow. “Let me hear you, it’s ok baby, you’re safe with me, let me hear you”.

The kindness in his voice had you melting on the spot, especially as he released one of your thighs to inch two fingers into your cunt whilst simultaneously sucking on your clit. You didn’t need to be told twice as you released an almighty, throaty moan that caused Remus to smile against your bundle of nerves.

This was when you heard another distinctive voice in the room, muffled and quiet like they’d been trying to hold it in, but another male definitely grunted “fuck” from one of the other beds. However you truly didn’t care, the thought of Sirius and James in their beds, hands wrapped around their cocks as they listened to you being pleasured by your boyfriend had your centre burning and clenching hard around his fingers.

Remus chuckled as he felt your arousal heighten, “knew you’d like it, baby”. With each passing second, he increased the speed of his fingers, curing them deliciously against that beautiful spot that had you nearly seeing stars, thighs trembling as that tightening coil appeared in your abdomen.

“P-please” you begged, not needing to ask for what, Remus knew exactly what as he pumped his fingers harder, licking back and forth against your clit, still watching your every movement from between your legs. Pure, shocking pleasure erupted through your body, clenching and shivering as you screamed out, twisting away on instinct as his touch became too much.

Remus’ hands massaged up and down your spine, soothing you through the intense orgasm, his cock painfully hard from seeing you mewl and twitch on your side. “You did so well baby, good girl, that’s it, take a deep breath”.

Hazily, you followed his instructions, taking a deep breath, hips still bucking as the pleasure soothed down until a light hum settled over your body leaving you blissfully satisfied and shyly grinning up at him in the dark.

Remus smiled back, kissing your bare shoulder as he spooned behind you, his clothes having now disappeared at some point as his warm skin met your back. One of his arms settled beneath your head as you nuzzled into it, smiling as his cock brushed your slightly overstimulated centre. His tip was soon pushing in, your warm wetness spasming around his veiny length, loving the pain and pleasure that came from his thicker size.

“Fuck, you’re so tight”, Remus grunted, lips kissing lazily against your neck as his other hand moved your leg over his, giving him better access. Another male moan could be heard from the other side of the room, and the faint sound of slapping from a fist up and down a cock.

“Ah you’re so big!” you moaned, feeling absolutely full of his cock. Remus hummed, gently biting your shoulder as his fingers trailed over your peaked breasts, tweaking the nipples that only caused your cunt to clench.

Remus knew he needed to go slower in this position, not wanting to hurt you as he began pulling out. You were openly moaning, not caring who heard as your walls were caressed by his member, in and out he slowly moved, making sure to push all the way in until your cervix was bumped before withdrawing.

Your hands were trying to grip onto the back of his head but kept slipping and ended up falling into his hand that was until your head, his large hand easily being able to hold both of your hands so you were at his mercy.

The spiral of moans that were leaving your lips was only echoed by the two men that were listening, both of their eyes closed in concentration and only adding to the smirk across Remus as he had you all to himself.

Feeling your muscles relax slightly, Remus increased his speed, the bed shifting with his thrusts, thighs slapping together as you repeatedly shouted his name like a song. He was just so big for you, almost sure that if you glanced down you could see the bulge of his cock appear and disappear with his movements.

This also meant that you were already close to cumming again, wanting to feel that tightness building, needing it to take over your body. Remus did too as he once again increased his pace, furiously fucking you from where he lay on his side behind you, hand moving between your legs to rub on your clit, swiping back and forth.

“You hear them baby? Hear how you’re pleasuring three men tonight, not just me, gonna make us all cum just from those pretty little noises”. You almost cried out just by his words, feeling wetness slashing out as you began to squirt as the peak of your orgasm was taking effect. “That's right, squirt over my cock, cum for me baby”.

He hadn’t even finished his sentence as you followed his instruction, cunt pulsing around his member, squeezing him tight as he didn’t stop fucking you, each time he pulled out, more squirt would coat his cock and thighs.

Remus didn’t give you time to recover as he chances his own high, feeling you relax again beneath him in the post-orgasm state, his fingers that had been playing with your bundle of nerves now pushing against your lips. You opened automatically, sucking his fingers, finding comfort in the moment.

“Good girl, suck my fingers, that’s it, taste yourself on me” Remus grunted against the back of your neck. At the same time, a boisterous “fuck yes” was yelled followed by a string of heavy moans as James came into his hand.

In your cock-drunk mind you half processed this fact, still sucking on his fingers as you clenched your cunt, causing Remus to moan desperately, his hips moving hard and fast until, “fuck- yes, ah” he quivered, stilling his hips as his cock throbbing, releasing his cum into your warm centre. Only a second later and Sirius was shouting with his own release, breathing hard, sweat glistening on his brow.

You smiled around Remus’ fingers, feeling him also smiling against your shoulder. He didn’t pull out, he never did in this position, only removing his fingers to touch your cheek, turning your face to the side so he could kiss the corner of your mouth before collapsing onto the bed.

“Good girl, get some sleep” he whispered quietly, again for only you to hear, not for the other two in the room.

Not another word was said as you relaxed into his hold, feeling his cock becoming softer but still wedged into your cunt, his cum ready to spill out and you felt a thrill go through you as it usually did during your sleep, leaving you to wake up in a sticky mess that Remus always felt a possessive obsession with seeing. The scent of sex was thick in the air, hot and humid as everything had changed between the four sleeping in that dormitory, the morning was sure to bring fun activities.

#remus lupin #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x reader #james potter #james potter smut #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black smut #sirius black x reader #the marauders #the marauders smut #the marauders one shot #hp smut #kinktober #kinktober 2022 #mine*

4K notes · View notes

roses-r-rosie3 · 4 months

Note

Can you do a Wes Hicks x Mreader where the two are in the back of a classroom that's watching a movie before winter break and reader becomes bored and begins jerking Wes off since the room is also dark

White Christmas

Wes Hicks x M!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Handjob, public sex, cumming in pants, almost getting caught

Quote: “I can’t believe you talked me into that”

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was the day before winter break and you could not be more excited. No schoolwork, tests, or quizzes to worry about. You were in your last period class with Wes and your teacher put on a Movie for the class to watch. The teacher put on some old Holiday movie, so you decided to just go on your phone.

But you eventually got bored of just scrolling, and you tried your best to actually enjoy the movie but you just couldn’t. So, instead you started to observe your surroundings. You first looked at Wes, he was really invested in the movie, his eyes glued to the screen. Sometimes you wonder how you managed to pull a sweet guy like him.

You also noticed that you were in the very back of the classroom. The classroom itself was dark, and almost everyone was either watching the movie or dead asleep, and the teacher was just on his phone, not even bothering to look up. You decided to capitalize on the situation and cure your boredom a bit.

“Hey Wes” you whispered.

“Hm?”

“You know, I was really trying to save your gift for the holiday season, but why don’t I give it to you now?” You said as you crept your hands closer to the fly of his pants.

“Seriously y/n? Here? Right now?” Wes mumbled.

“Please? I’m bored, it’s not like we have anything better to do” you said.

“Fine, but what if we get caught?” Wes asked.

“We won’t, if you’re quiet enough” you smirked as you unzipped his zipper.

You reached your hands into into his trousers, and started rubbing the buldge in his boxers ever-so-slightly. You could already feel Wes’s pre-cum leaking from his boxers.

“P-please stop teasing” Wes whined.

“What happened to ‘what if we get caught’?” You teased as you started leaving kisses on his neck.

“Y-y/n please, I need you” Wes whimpered.

You listened to Wes’s whining and gave him what he wanted. I mean how could you say ‘no’ to such a pretty face? You figured that you had teased him enough, so immediately started to jerk him off.

Wes began panting and groaning as you stroked his length. You were honestly impressed at how nobody knew what the two of you were doing. Wes started whimpering louder and louder until you pulled your hand away from his throbbing cock.

“W-w-what?! Y/n please! I was so close” Wes complained.

“You need to be a good boy and stay quiet if you want to cum then” you whispered against Wes’s ears.

“Yes-yes, I’ll be a good boy j-just please continue” Wes begged.

You laughed to yourself before you began to reach your hands inside of his boxers again. Wes’s cock was more hot to the touch this time, but that didn’t stop you. This time, Wes started to thrust into your hand. You let Wes use your hand like a fleshlight. It wasn’t until you could tell that he was close that you started to jerk him off again.

“Y-y/n I’m gonna-”

Before Wes could even finish his sentence, his cock erupted. You began to cover his mouth with your free hand as his hot cum shot out of his cock. Both your hand and Wes’s pants were covered with Wes’s juices. When Wes finally calmed down, you took your hands out of his pants and began licking up all of his semen from your hands.

You smiled at Wes before kissing him.

“Hey you two in the back, stop canoodling I see you back there” the teacher said.

You could tell from the teacher’s tone that he only saw the part where you and Wes were kissing, so you had nothing to worry about.

“I can’t believe you talked me into that” Wes sighed.

“Oh don’t act like you didn’t like it” you chuckled.

#male x male #mlm #malexmale #male reader #mxm #gay #rosesrrosie3 #male reader x scream #scream x male reader #scream x reader #scream x you #wes hicks x male reader smut #wally west x you #wally west x y/n #wes hicks x male reader #wes hicks #smut #gay smut

214 notes · View notes

goldustwomun · 2 years

Text

soul meets body (b.b.)

BASED ON THIS REQUEST...

pairing: bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x gf!reader

summary: you begin to question whether there’s something wrong with you when bradley refuses to touch you, little did you know you’d got it all wrong.

warning: smut, obviously; masturbation, fingering, lots of sweethearts, some jokes; it wouldn’t be my writing if there wasn’t angst so prepare yourself; but a whole lot of fluff & praise to top it all off <3

wc: 3.6k+

note: this is based off of the above request!! fair warning, this is unedited, but it’s my first ACTUAL attempt at smut so be kind xx i literally intended for this to be a short blurb but it ended up being a monster of a oneshot so please enjoy & reblogs are much appreciated :))

update: finally edited :)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN. Check my rules before hand!

“Where are you going?”

“Somewhere! Anywhere!” you hurtled back, rifling through your closet for a pair of trousers or sweatpants or– fuck, anything that you could wear to walk out of the door in a more decent state than you currently were, legs on display in the baby tee and frilly panties you had on.

You’d hoped the (admittedly scandalous) look would have tempted him, even a little bit, to place his hands on you. Even if it didn’t lead anywhere and all you did was kiss for a bit – you needed something, anything, and it was driving you crazy.

He’d been avoiding you like a plague anytime you tried to initiate something, whenever your hand crept a little too high on his thigh to be deemed appropriate, or you shuffled back into him when you were in bed together so your hips were pressed close. But he always came up with an excuse – either tired or busy or just not feeling it.

So you were done – done humiliating yourself in front of the one person you used to feel the most comfortable with.

“Sweetheart, stop that,” he chided, voice soft and pleading. He stood by your side, watching as you shoved your foot into the wrong pant hole. Bradley couldn’t help but laugh, hiding behind his fist as you stumbled in between your angry movements, but your hard glare shut him up quick enough as he mumbled a stuttered apology.

“Will you tell me why you’re angry? What did I do?” he asked, and you pointedly ignored him, instead choosing to flip him off as you finally buttoned your jeans and turned towards his room door. You hated how he spoke to you, like you were a little child pouting at the cookie jar.

You’d been spending the weekend at his place like you had countless times before, already having moved some of your necessities into his cupboards and by his sink. There were glimpses of your relationship all over his apartment, and all it did was make you want to rage harder every time you stumbled across them.

“Come on, sweets, please,” he begged once more before sighing defeatedly and grabbing your arms so you’d have no choice but to look at him, explain what it was that had caused such a sudden outburst.

You finally met his stare, taking in his dishevelled state – hair pointing in every direction and unzipped pants that you’d tried to get down minutes earlier. The two of you were curled up on his bed, watching a film like you always did on a Sunday night. Only, Bradley was highly invested in Maria’s singing of “Do, a deer, a female deer” to the Von Trapp children (you had put on ‘The Sound of Music’), but your mind had travelled elsewhere.

You’d let the hand that was resting on his clothed stomach wander, just a little lower as you traced lazy circles into the soft material of his t-shirt. You thought you were being at least minutely discreet as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, mouthed kisses into the sensitive skin there. He’d squeezed your barely-covered hip in admonishment, but it only motivated you to try harder.

Slipping your hand lower, you unzipped his pants, propping yourself up onto your elbow as you breathed, all sultry and hot, into his ear, “Bradley, please, I want you.” You’d thought it was quite good, had read and watched enough to know it was what guys liked to hear. But rather than throw you down on the bed and take you like you wanted, he’d clammed up instead, sputtering on about how he “didn’t think that was a good idea.”

So here you were, caged in by his long limbs and silently fuming. “What did I do?” he repeated. There was a hardness in his voice that told you he wasn’t in the mood for excuses this time. You’d just have to embarrass yourself a little more.

“Is there something wrong with me?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. If you said it any louder, you were certain you’d erupt into mortified flames.

“What?” He was looking at you funny, like you’d grown a head or two in the time it took for you to speak.

“I said, is there something wrong with me?” You were more annoyed than upset now, hating that you had to repeat such ugly thoughts of yours.

“No! God, no. Why would you even think that?” His hands moved to hold your face, rubbing soothing circles into the soft skin of your cheeks.

“Because you won’t touch me!” you fired back, hating how he’d easily smothered the fire burning inside of you with such little effort. When it came to him, you had no control over yourself. You were like pliant putty, melting in his palms the moment he got close. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’ve been trying to get you to fuck me for weeks, and– and– you just won’t! It’s like I’m diseased or something, Bradley, and I swear I’m fucking not!”

You were breathing hard, all furrowed brows and pouting mouth. He didn’t say anything in defense of himself and his stupid, infuriating actions, so you continued. “So if I’m not diseased, there must be something else wrong with me, and I’d really like you to explain because it’s getting to be fucking exhausting, and humiliating, considering how much I’ve thrown myself at you!”

He was shaking his head at you and you were struck by the urge to slap the crooked smile off of his perfect face. “There’s nothing wrong with you, sweetheart. You’re fucking beautiful, way out of my league, even. I mean, look at you,” he cooed, placing a sweet kiss on your lips. You were so, utterly, completely tense by then that you felt the aftershock of his lips zap right between your thighs.

You were fucked.

Except, not really.

“So then why won’t you–”

“Because you’ve never had sex before, and I wanted it to be special. I wanted it to be as close to perfect as I could get because you deserve it.” Now it was his turn to flush red out of embarrassment, like he couldn’t believe he’d just admitted his scheme to you.

“I– What?”

“I had it all planned out. Our anniversary is coming up soon, and I have some time off then, so I was going to make dinner, put on a movie, dim the lights a little – speaking of, I was going to install a light dimmer! Looked up how to and everything,” he vented. “I wanted– I want your first time to be something worth remembering.”

You grinned up at him, rising to the tips of your toes as your arms wrapped around his neck to bring the two of you closer. You kissed him long and slow as his own hands dropped to grip your waist. When you broke apart, finally needing air before one or the both of you passed out, you laughed at the confused look on his face.

It wasn’t every day that you had Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw at a loss for words.

“So… you’re not mad?” he offered, pecking your cheek.

“Me? Mad? Of course I still am, but I get it,” you replied, unwinding one of your hands to rest on his chest. “But listen to me carefully, Bradley, because I’m only going to say this once.” He nodded, the picture of concentrated seriousness. “I don’t need dinner, a movie, or dimmed lights. I don’t need something special or pre-planned or whatever you deem to be perfect for me.

All I need is you. I’ll only ever need and want you,” you spoke the words against his lips, fingers already trailing down his front once more to tug at the loose waistband of his unzipped jeans.

“Okay,” he breathed. “Okay, sweetheart, I can do that for you.” He hurtled into action as he kissed you hard and fast, shuffling forward until the back of your legs hit the bed. His hands were in your hair, his tongue exploring your mouth, and you couldn’t help but curl your toes every time he moaned into you, feeling the vibrations rocket through your body.

Bradley shoved you back until you fell against his covers. You laughed at how rushed his movements were, like if he didn’t feel your skin against his soon, he’d collapse in a whimpering heap.

“I fucking love you, you know that right?” He undid the buttons of the obnoxious Hawaiian-printed shirt he had on, throwing it behind your head. He crawled onto his knees, caging you in with his arms and rock-solid body as he left sloppy, wet kisses down your neck, then across your collarbones.

You were already shaking with anticipation. And it wasn’t like you hadn’t gone this far with him – you were a virgin, not virginal. But something about the way he kissed you, touched you, the visceral electric charge in the air – it felt different, and it felt fucking amazing.

“Want these off you,” you mumbled against his lips, pushing his jeans as far down his hips as you could reach. He groaned in agreement, the two of you tearing a part so he could kick them off whilst you tugged your t-shirt off, nipples perking at the cool air.

Bradley’s eyes widened at the sight before him: stretched out in front of him, you lay waiting, in nothing but your panties with miles of skin on display for him to bite, kiss, suck.

He was in heaven, and he wanted to take you there, as well.

Sure, he was staring at you, just about devouring you by sight alone, but you couldn’t get enough of him either, had already reached down between you to slip your fingers under your panties, stroke, slow and deep, against your clit. It took a moment for Bradley’s brain to catch up as he watched you, mouth hung open – either in shock or amazement, you couldn’t quite tell.

“Fuck. That’s it, that’s my girl,” he praised, swiping your hair out of your face as he leaned forward to get a better look at your fingers working against yourself. You were moaning loud, now, crying out his name like a prayer. “Get yourself nice and wet, and I’ll see what I can do about that ache between your legs,” he promised with a short kiss on your lips.

You nodded, stupidly enthusiastic, tugging your underwear down to be tossed aside so that you were bare underneath him. He swore under his breath, ducking his head down to nip at the skin around your nipples before tugging it into his mouth. He sucked and sucked and sucked and – fuck, you could come like this.

“You gonna come, sweetheart? I haven’t even touched you yet, not really.” His voice was deliciously taunting and you did your best to shoot him your meanest glare, but it was hard considering how much you were shaking, hand moving faster and faster as your slick dripped down your trembling thighs.

“Fuck– Fuck– Fuck,” you whimpered, eyes squeezed shut. Your unoccupied hand grabbed onto Bradley’s bicep, nails digging crescents into his skin – you wanted to see constellations all across his body by the time the two of you were done.

And you were there, almost. Teetering at the pinnacle of a precipice that you knew would be worth it once you were on the other side, but your mind was going numb and your wrist was starting to get tired, so you pouted up at the fixated man above you, might have begged in between your mindless moans.

The next thing you knew was your hand had been nudged to the side, and Bradleys fingers slipped between your folds, collecting the juices there before fucking them back inside you. You were going to combust, you were sure of it. Fuck constellations on his skin because you were already seeing them against your eyelids as your fingers struggled to remain still, your hips bucking off his mattress the moment his thumb joined in on the fun, pressing against the tight bundle of nerves you could feel throbbing alongside your heartbeat.

You came on his fingers in no time, the two of you panting, hot breaths mingling between you. Bradley leaned down, nipped at your bottom lip as your mouth was left open, too exhausted to even think. He held the glistening tips of his fingers, drenched in your slick, up to your face. Your eyes opened in time to watch him slip them into his mouth, groaning at the heady taste of you, you, you.

“I love you,” you croaked, surging forward to melt against him as you licked into his mouth, tasting all of yourself on his tongue.

“Fuck, that was hot.” His voice was rough like gravel and it grated against your skin in a way you’d never experienced before. You squirmed beneath him, snapping the waistband of his briefs against his hip bone.

“Off,” you commanded, determined to not let the momentum wane. He raised his brow at you, never having heard you so defiant, especially not when the two of you were in bed. You leaned up on the palm of your hand, the other tilting his head to the side as you sucked bruises into his chest, into his collarbone, up his neck. “Please,” you added sweetly, not stopping your attack on his skin.

“Jesus fucking christ– I’ll take them off but you’ll have to stop, sweets,” he grumbled, not entirely wanting you to stop but knowing it was only going to get better. You relented, toppling back with a huff as he stood up and off the bed, pushing his briefs down.

Your gaze went straight to his cock. You could see where the precum was shining against the purple tip, traced your stare across the throbbing vein that ran down its side, mouth watered at the tufts of neat hair at the base. You were screwed.

“That is the plan,” he pointed out, a cheeky grin plastered to his face. You must have said out loud and you retaliated with a kick to his exposed chin. He caught your ankle before you could make contact, clicking his tongue at your inability to sit still. “I won’t fuck you if you don’t play nice,” he scolded, tone unforgiving as he dropped your ankle and instead, reached into his bedside drawer to pull out a condom.

He looked you in the eye as he ripped the packet open, rolling it down his prick in smooth and precise movements. Like before, you really think you could come just watching him. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, and this wasn’t the first time you found yourself thanking whatever higher power there was out there for letting you be this damn lucky.

Bradley placed his knee onto the bed, assessing the situation. His cock bobbed, you could tell it was painful from the way his hands were balled in fists and how deep his breathing was, like he was trying to force his body to slow down, to relax – all for you.

“I think–” he cleared his throat, his nerves seeping into his words. “I think you should be on top. You’ll have more control, can stop when you want– go at your own pace,” he stated decisively before joining you on the bed. He laid back against the headboard, holding his hand out so you could slip your legs on either side of his waist.

You didn’t sit down, not completely. “You’re sure about this?” you asked. His mouth quirked upwards as he tugged you closer, your chest falling against his. You could feel his heart hammering through his chest, through your own.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” he shot back, palms smoothing idly up and down your hips.

“You know what I mean. We’re a partnership, you and I. I’m sure, just need to know you are as well.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it. Instead, he nodded, met your mouth with his. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m yours.”

Your hands were trembling when you reached for his aching cock, sitting up on your knees, hands wrapped around the base as you angled it to your opening. You were still slick from your fingers, from Bradley’s as well, and fuck were you ready. Ready to be so utterly connected to the one person you loved, the one person who understood you, probably better than you did yourself.

He helped you, slipping his own hand around yours as you sank down slowly. You’d barely gotten past the tip before you stopped, eyes squeezed shut, now from the pain rather than pleasure. “I know, sweetheart, I know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he soothed, placing barely-there kisses against your shoulder as you trembled in his arms.

“Holy sh–shit,” you groaned, not expecting the shooting pain. You don’t know how long the two of you stayed like that, simply holding each other. You could imagine how hard, literally, it must have been for Bradley, but he never let even a flicker of frustration cross his face. He was entirely steady, unwaveringly there for you.

You shifted on your knees, sliding an inch or two down, and Bradley halted your movement with a tight grip on your waist. “You sure you’re good. I don’t want you to get hurt.” He was searching your face for anything, everything – any sign of discomfort or regret, even if it was slight.

“It’s– fuck– it’s fine. It hurts a little less, let’s just try,” you managed to whisper. You took the rest of him, hiding your face in his neck as you did so, as the pain tore through you from the inside out. You knew it was going to hurt but, fucking hell, they’d never mentioned this in health class. You’d had things up there, toys, your fingers, Bradley’s fingers, but this was completely foreign to you.

Throughout it all, Bradley held you close. His words and resolute presence never wavering. And eventually, after what could have been seconds, minutes, hours – you weren’t sure, the pain lessened enough for it to almost become pleasurable. You tested the waters, pulling your hips back, then forward.

The pained groan that fell past Bradley’s hips told you all you needed to know – even if it wasn’t entirely good for you, you’d do it again if only to hear him make that noise again. “Are you okay?” you mocked, rocking your hips, again, and again, and again. He couldn’t speak, mouths forming words that never made it past his lips. His head fell back, hitting the wooden frame as his blunt nails dug into the skin of your hips, of your ass, of whatever skin he could grab onto as you rode him.

“You’re going to– fuck– be the death of me, I– shit! – swear it,” he panted, capturing your lips in his. You continued your teasing movements for a while, relishing in the way he held you tighter, moaned louder, gaze darting across your sweat-covered body.

“And if I did this?” you questioned, voice laced with innocent, but your actions did little to reflect that. You gripped his shoulders, raising up until his tip was barely still inside you, before sitting down completely. You gasped at that, cunt clenching around him as the first sparks of ecstasy shot through you. “Oh–”

Bradley grinned that all-consuming smile of his, bent his knees and lifted you up before bucking his hips up, into you. Your mouth fell open at the sight, couldn’t stop yourself from staring at how his cock slipped in and out of you. “You look fucking beautiful, sitting on my cock like that,” he professed, his own gaze locked at where he pounded into you. “And you’re taking me so well– knew you would.”

“F-fuck, Bradley. I can’t– fuck! It’s too much, too much.” Your words were unintelligible as that familiar rush of heat consumed you. You could feel it spreading to the tips of your fingers, to your toes, and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“That’s alright, sweetheart. You’ve done so well, just let go, that’s it,” he coaxed, fingers returning to your drenched clit as his hips continued their incessant hammering, coupled with the steady strokes of his fingers.

You quivered around him, mumbled thank-yous caught in your throat as your body arched, then collapsed into him. “I love you, sweetheart. Fuck– love you so much.” He kissed his confession into your skin, melting back into the pillow as he clutched you as close as humanly possible.

“What about you?” You lifted your head, vision still swirling from your second orgasm. “You didn’t finish.”

“That’s okay, I’m alright,” he assured, rolling over so that he’d slip out of you. “You’re stuck with me sweets, so we have ages for you to make it up to me.”

Bradley left a comforting kiss on your hip bone, eyes meeting yours as he did so, before he walked over to the bin to peel the glistening condom from off of him. It took him a while to find his briefs, but he eventually slid them on, before venturing into his bathroom.

You were entirely too spent to even pay attention to whatever he was doing, but soon enough, he returned with a wet towel and positioned himself at your waist.

“Just gonna clean you up, then we can sleep some more, sound good?” he offered, carefully wiping at the inside of your thighs and up your slit. He tossed the towel to a distant corner in his room before sliding under the covers, tucking you into his side.

He sighed, sleepy and content. “So, was I any good?” he prodded, smirking down at you.

You scoffed at his easy arrogance, rolling your eyes. “You know you were, Rooster. Now shut up and go to sleep.”

“Yes ma’am,” he fired back, but kissed the side of your head and relaxed into you, into your warmth.

He wasn’t wrong. You made it up to him the next morning, and the one after that, and the other after that…

Please reblog if you liked what you read :)

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw smut #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #top gun smut #rooster x reader #rooster smut #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw smut #top gun: maverick one shot #top gun one shot #top gun maverick one shot #soul meets body

2K notes · View notes

forestdeath1 · 23 days

Note

I see many Snape Stans (I dislike Snape but I see why he turned out the way he did) saying James sexually assaulted him, especially on TikTok, when it’s not the truth at all, we don’t know if he ever actually took off his pants because and it wasn’t his fault that Snape wasn’t wearing any trousers. While he did bully him he never sexually assaulted him, and so many people are now saying this and I’m just flabbergasted, why did no one read the books? Why does everyone get their informations off TikTok and Twitter?

I don't really like this topic, to be honest. But here's how I perceive it.

1. In the canon, as far as I remember, it wasn't even implied that wizards wore trousers under their robes. They all just wore their underwear. And Lupin says:

"Oh, that one had a great vogue during my time at Hogwarts," said Lupin reminiscently. "There were a few months in my fifth year when you couldn’t move for being hoisted into the air by your ankle."

"Yes," he said, "but he wasn't the only one. As I say, it was very popular. . . . You know how these spells come and go. . . ."

So Snape not only created this spell himself, but it also became popular at school. So many students were hanging upside down, showing off their underwear.

From this, we can infer that wizards perceived it slightly differently than we do now, and even than Harry. It was "fun" bullying, but nothing more. Even Lupin himself sounds like he's justifying it, although he probably got hung upside down too ("There were a few months in my fifth year when you couldn’t move for being hoisted into the air by your ankle.").

2. We don't know for sure if James ended up taking Snape's pants off. Logically speaking, JKR simply didn't describe it, assuming that he did. Given the time the book was written, she probably didn't intend to invest it with such a horrible meaning. This all happens in the 70s in the WW. For our time, of course, it's SA. And that's awful. But the perception of that time could leave its mark. For example, when I was in school, many things that are now considered "awful" were seen as "not so bad". Those who did those awful things back then didn't even really understand how awful their actions truly were. Society evolves and we increasingly respect people's personal psychological and physical boundaries. What we didn't perceive as SA back then is considered SA today. A simple example you've probably seen in movies, spanking children was considered normal and right. That's how society raised those people. Surely today those same people wouldn't spank their children, because they would understand it's bad.

So it's likely that nobody at school perceived this action as SA. Moreover, James always played to the crowd. And if he really, according to the author's intention, took Snape's pants off, and the whole school saw it as normal, and didn't start looking at James with disgust... it raises big questions for the school students, doesn't it? If my friend did this today, he wouldn't be my friend anymore. Most people would look at such a person with disgust. But James's popularity didn't diminish at all.

This brings us back to the fact that nobody back then saw it as worse than bullying. So the society of that time hadn't yet formed enough understanding of what SA was and how bad it was to expose someone else's genitals. So James didn't fully understand either how awful it was, much more awful than pink bubbles out of your mouth or doubling someone's head in size. So for them it was all on the same level — taking someone's pants off or making them hang upside down or doubling their head in size.

I'm not justifying it, but the wizarding world is pretty harsh. Neville was thrown out of a window, Harry almost killed Draco, Fred and George literally made a kid disappear for a week, and Hermione kept Rita Skeeter captive in a jar for over a month. All of this is awful, but the wizarding world operates by different moral standards.

If judged in terms of our morality, there are almost no morally pure characters in these books.

I especially don't understand Snape stans (I mean I like Snape, but I don’t understand their logic). In terms of our morality, both Snape and James deserve to be punished. Snape would have got a much bigger sentence for joining and helping a terrorist organisation. What are Snape stans trying to prove? That Snape was better? No, he wasn't. They're all arseholes in terms of the muggle world of 2024.

#james potter #severus snape #james potter meta #hp meta #severus snape meta

82 notes · View notes

lavender-romancer · 2 months

Text

Fools

Part Four

Tommy Shelby x male reader

CW: internalised homophobia, sexual themes

You always felt that you were hiding or running from deep inside of you, this feeling that you weren't like other men around you. When you met Tommy it made sense but how could you explore these feelings?

AN: Tommy is not married to Lizzie and Ruby does not exist

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

previous part

You woke up to Tommy sitting at the desk in your hotel room shirtless with his trousers laying unbuttoned on his hips. After stretching you pulled on your briefs and draped on your unbuttoned shirt from the night before before walking over to Tommy. You rested your hands on his shoulders and kissed the top of his head. He leant the side of his head on your hand and sighed.

"I missed you." Tommy whispered and you smiled.

"You should have woken me up." You lent your chin on the top of his head and stroked up and down his bare bicep.

"And miss out on your weird sleep talking? No chance." Tommy smirked and you hit his arm playfully.

"I'll make sure my next lot of sleep talking discusses how I want to kill you." You stood up and sat down on the bed before taking off your shirt. "Come here." You said softly, Tommy turned around and pushed a hand through his hair before walking over to the bed. You lit a cigarette and rose up onto your knees so you were nearly face to face with Tommy. You took a drag of your cigarette and then leant forward and kissed Tommy, blowing the smoke into his mouth. He inhaled and exhaled out of his mouth, continuing to kiss you deeply as he cradled your face. When you drew apart you couldn't help but smirk at the surprised look on Tommy's face.

"I demand you live with me as long as you're in Birmingham so you can do that again." Tommy took hold of your throat and squeezed it slightly causing you to close your eyes. But as soon as he had held it he let go and you looked at him with an offended expression. "Got to leave you wanting more." Tommy smiled and you rolled your eyes.

The two of you left the hotel room a few hours later and headed for Tommy's office to try to complete some actual work. This whole situation seemed genuinely fucking insane. You couldn't touch him but just looking across the back car seat and seeing his angelic face was enough to convince you it had all been a dream. Maybe you didn't need heaven if you could have Tommy. Things began to change around a week later.

Tommy invited you to his office for a business meeting about investment margins and whilst you were excited to see him you both needed to set up a legitimate face between the two businesses. You sat in the chair outside Tommy's office as his secretary called the number to his office but his phone was engaged.

"Shouldn't be too much longer." She smiled at you.

Whilst you tried to rationalize that it would just be a random business phone call you couldn't help your brain running with the idea he had some else. She got up and knocked on Tommy's office door, letting herself in and closing the door behind. They spoke for a few moments before she exited and opened the door for you.

"Who was on the phone cutting into my meeting time?" You asked in a joking tone and Tommy wouldn't meet your eyeline.

"Oh, no one." He replied before changing the subject completely and discussing profit margins and projected earnings.

But you couldn't let it go. Or at least your involuntary thoughts wouldn't let it go. You'd much rather side with your rational thoughts but they rarely won internal arguments.

As you returned home that day, you looked over the investment plans you and Tommy had agreed on but it felt false. Not too long ago you held him in your arms as he cried, now you were back to being partners in business. Every minute all you could think about was the softness of his skin and how his lips felt, you were getting hard just thinking about him. This was… maybe not bad, but it definitely wasn't good. What would you do without someone like him? You needed some time away from the city, away from the noise so you could just think.

The following day you were traveling to the Peak District just outside of Sheffield to stay with your friend May Carleton. You had known one another for a great deal of time and her country manor felt like the perfect escape that you needed to talk about Tommy. Over the whole journey you tried to keep yourself busy, reading the paper, doing the crossword in the Times. Anything to keep your mind straying to the man you were ever so slightly falling for. You forgot if you'd ever wanted anyone else by this point, they were distant memories of a life you no longer wanted. Tommy sometimes felt like an entity that would pass through your life, his beautiful eyes tearing away from you as he decided he wanted someone else.

"It's so wonderful to see you!" May exclaimed as you walked up to the grand doors of the mansion.

"I've missed you dearly." You hugged her closely and she took your hand.

"Leave that all here, it can be taken to your room, I have something to show you." She smiled broadly and pulled you after her.

The two of you walked into the gardens to a little stone alcove that had been built into the side of the building, with ivy and roses growing all the way up. It was surrounded by flowers you'd never seen before.

"Isn't it beautiful, my gardener is positively the best in England, he had sees brought over from the Caribbean, it's some seasonal plant there but he's somehow kept them alive." She crouched down and delicately held her hand underneath the vibrant flower.

"May, your wealth is unmatched." You laughed and she stood up, brushing off her skirt.

"Oh I know. But what am I supposed to do, I have all this land and no one to share it with. Unless you're planning on staying a while?" She prompted.

"If you'll have me I will stay as long as the sun lasts here. I need fresh air so desperately by this point." You sighed and May reached for your hand.

"What beastly man has hurt you this time, my love?" She asked.

"I'll tell you later, now, walk me round these gardens before I do it myself." You linked her arm and she started walking you through the flower garden.

Thomas was sexually frustrated to a point that felt ridiculous. But his shame was beginning to overpower his mind, when you were due to be in a meeting with him, he had called a former female lover and arranged to meet. He usually did this every couple months, with someone he knew or a whore. Tommy had to prove to himself what he was because he never believed it. All he did was follow pleasure, try to center that and forget about the gender of the other person. But it was impossible to not hyperfocus on the fact that he loved having sex with men, with you. But that was unacceptable to him. Regardless of his careless attitude, he couldn't even accept the fact he might be a homosexual let alone live with that fact. Trying to prove his own brain was wrong was generally at the forefront of his mind.

Most of the time he was disgusted by himself, by his urges and his fantasies. The more he thought about it, the more distressed he was. Sitting in his office at home he lay back in his chair, hands clasped on his chest as he looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. Why was love so hard for him to have? What was so unrelentlessly cruel was that Tommy constantly fought his urges and tried to be the man his father told him to be, but then people like you showed up in his life. Men that he couldn't stop thinking about, men that made him question his moral fiber, his existence on this planet. If anything about his secret life was revealed, everything would be over. His life, his business, his family name. Everything Thomas had worked for decades to achieve would disappear as he started a prison sentence, leaving his family to pick up the pieces left behind him. He couldn't do that to them, he couldn't allow all of this to be corrupted and twisted because of his idiotic choices. Once he settled down with a new wife and more children this could all be put to bed.

As he looked at the ceiling, the wallpaper didn't swirl into images of you anymore. They swirled into an image of darkness and despair which felt like it was surrounding Tommy. This thick, dark mass engulfed his body and he choked on it. Not realising he was sobbing. He put a hand up to his throat and it shook, he felt like he couldn't breath. That the thought of losing you and what this meant to him would make him collapse. His heartbeat was getting quicker and quicker and he couldn't stop it. All he could see in his mind was you not being there, the very absence of you made him panic. His eyes darted around the room for something, anything that could stop the darkness around him.

You were his fucking person. But you just couldn't be, he wouldn't allow it. All he could see now through his tears was how you looked when you spoke to him, your smiles and the way your eyebrows moved when you were confused. The ways that you talked to him, the familiarity that couldn't be bought because the connection was real. Tommy had never cried in front of someone for as long as he could remember but that vulnerability felt so second nature when he was with you.

But both of you knew this couldn't last forever, there was always a glint of sadness in your eyes. Both of you knew this feeling of disappointment, how you were both tired of feeling this way. No matter how much you cared for one another or felt yourself loving one another you would never be able to sleep next to one another, at least not when being walked in on was a possibility. You would always belong to one another in some ways. But as Tommy ran his hands down his face and finally snapped out of the black mist, he realised that it didn't matter.

"So who's this mystery man?" May asked with a smile as you sat down in the drawing room with some tea.

"I can't say. This is my only veto so far, so you can respect it." You smiled and she rolled her eyes.

"Fine. But what is he like?" She probed.

"If you'd ever met him you would never know he was like me, or that he's incredibly vulnerable. It's strange, he trusts me inexplicably." You stared are the table not noticing your smile.

"Someone's smitten." She laughed and you couldn't help but laugh too because she was right.

“You must have a man in your life,” you smiled at her.

“Of sorts. I wouldn't say I quite have him yet but I intend to.” May took a bite of one of the biscuits laid out neatly on the floral china.

“Well you have to tell me more now.” Leaning in, you were prepared to hear about some awful bachelor but, the more she spoke the more the feeling of dread rose in your throat.

She had spoken about this man before. Not by name but you figured it out all the same, he was sleeping with her? Or at the very least showing her affection you wished was only for you. Of course it was only a matter of time, May was wonderful and had the plus of being absolutely stinking rich. How could Tommy resist? When she was seemingly so enthralled with him and he was so enthralled with power. But still, you felt foolish. A slither of your hopeful mind held out that he might only want you, that losing his wife was a good reason to be a bachelor. Why oh why did you do this to yourself?

“Darling?” May put a hand on your knee with concern in her eyes. “I hope I haven't upset you.” She knew your struggles with love and the lack thereof.

“I- I think I've just realised that we're uhm… talking about the same man.” Your eyes clearly displayed your terror as you sat awkwardly with your leg bouncing anxiously.

“Really, are you sure? But he didn't seem… well to put it delicately my dear. He didn't seem like you.” May looked genuinely disheartened with a hint of pity in her eyes. You hated it. Pity was a cancer, once it festered it was almighty difficult to remove it.

“I don't know what to say.” You were shifting uncomfortably, urging yourself to stand and leave but you couldn't quite do it. Realising that it had probably been May who Tommy spoke to on that phone call a few days ago.

“Are you sure?” She asked again and your malicious side considered telling her all the sexual exploits of you and Tommy.

“I am.” You replied sadly.

“I don't believe it. I can't,” she stood up and walked over to the window, her back to you. “We've been together as well.” That gave you a stabbing feeling in your stomach.

“Ah, that complicates things.” It was hard to not sound destroyed by this admission from May.

“Yes, I should say so. God, this is ridiculous.” She rubbed her forehead and sighed.

“Do you love him?” The question scared you more than it should. You didn't love Tommy, you thought you could love him but would you really stand in the way of May's happiness?

“Do you?” She turned, her mouth set in a displeased frown.

“Not yet.” It was a stupid answer but you felt like you were losing any possible advantage you could have had in this conversation.

“But you intend to? A man who will never be honest with himself about his emotions, let alone you?” May took a step in your direction, you hung your head.

“May, I'm used to it. You can call me idiotic but it's not something that concerns me.” The fidgeting got worse and you felt like your whole body was trembling.

“And he knows this, does he? Is he aware of the anguish that you are willing to put yourself through?” She sounded more concerned than angry now and it only made you feel worse. That stabbing feeling felt like it was twisting into your abdomen with irreversible damage.

“We care about one another and that is enough for me.” Eyes growing wet and foggy, you wanted to leave. Hoping to never have this conversation you chose to ignore it was happening.

“I cant- I… this is too much.” She walked past you, heading for the door.

“Do you love him?” You asked in a burst of confidence neither of you expected-you were usually the meek one of the two of you.

“And what difference would that make to this conversation, Darling?” May looked back at you with equally glassy eyes. She was too protective of you to be angry about the right things.

After leaving the room she didn't return, you waited for what felt like a long while before returning to your adopted bedroom in the house and flopping forward onto the bed. What in God's name was going on? It felt like a poorly written snuff piece in a broadsheet you'd tut at for being so idiotic. You had to get back to Birmingham, doubting that May would want to see you again at least for now. Did he know that you both knew each other? He must have known, Tommy not knowing something would be more surprising to you than otherwise.

You left not too long after your conversation with May, it felt a tad juvenile but you were jealous. Not so much that he had been sleeping with someone else at the same time as you, it was the fact that he didn't tell you. You assumed he trusted you after revealing what must be his best kept secret. It wasn't unrealistic for your lover to have a wife or a female companion. Usually for show. But this… was it more than for show? Did he truly care for May? It left you feeling unsettled more than anything. This feeling of attachment was so unfamiliar considering interactions with past lovers had lasted maybe a month or so. It was odd to crave someone's undivided attention.

Peaky blinders taglist:

@queenofkings1212 @severewobblerlightdragon @cl5369 @fairypitou @stressedandbandobessed7771 @shadow-of-wonder @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns @curled-hair-red-lips @lucystivinsky1315

Series taglist:

@denzellovehazelnuts @edgyboi10000

@strnqer @arsoniscommited @flynnr2d2

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby angst #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby x male reader #male reader #peaky blinders male reader

90 notes · View notes

honeybeezgobzzzzz · 4 months

Text

🗡️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Six

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: None.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~3.2k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

The Red Force was closing in on the port of Ingles, a town known for it’s construction services and lumber milling. The island itself was forested and sported mountains that Benn had described as a wilderness. It was no wonder that the logging and construction business boomed in Ingles and you looked forwards to seeing the looming mountains. Kuri Island had hills, the Bonn manor was perched on one… but it held no mountains nor thick forests. Even your best efforts to act lady like couldn’t hold back the excitement running through your veins.

Now you were just standing on the deck, hands clutching the railing as you leaned out and felt the wind and salt on your face. The white sleeves of the tunic you wore fluttered and flapped, dancing to the turbulent wind propelling the large ship across cerulean water. The town meant that you could pawn off your necklace and earrings for Berry, and then get clothes that fit you better.

You were more than thankful to be wearing Shanks’ spare clothing rather than your wedding dress, but the fabric dwarfed your body and was ill fitting. The sleeves tended to drag when you were helping Lucky in the kitchen and you had to use one of Hongo’s bandages as a belt to keep the trousers around your waist. Now add the cut sandals practically taped to your feet…. To put it simply, you looked ridiculous!

But even the ridiculous clothes that your mother would fall in a faint over if she ever saw you wearing such, you couldn’t help bask in the feeling of freedom. You’d never had the luxury of being in charge of your own clothing, you’d never even worn trousers before, and there wasn’t even a corset in sight! You sighed in happiness once more and beamed, wondering what type of clothes you’d want to get for your new life.

Dresses wouldn’t be particularly useful to you, not when you found trousers so freeing and easy to move in, but you wouldn’t mind having one simple nice dress to have on hand. It wouldn’t hurt to treat yourself to a nice dinner at one of the restaurants Lucky had been telling you about. Even you knew that certain dress codes were expected in certain places. So one dress would do. But you’d mostly invest some money in tunics, trousers, two pairs of shoes and a nice hat to block out the sun.

Then there was the glaring fact that you needed to ensure your safety. You were no fool. The blues were dangerous and filled with both good and bad people. Pirates. You were going to acquire yourself a blade and learn how to use it (yet another task of learning you had to accomplish). Dropping your elbow to the railing, you rested your chin in hand.

“So much to do, I haven’t a clue were to start,” You spoke to yourself, eyes watching the whitecaps forming as waves curled and crashed.

“Well for starters we’re getting you into clothes that actually fit,” Shanks voice softly floated into your ears over the sound of waves and Yasopp’s off key singing. Twisting your head, you looked at the red haired captain with a pragmatic smile.

“Oh believe me, the first thing I plan on doing is choosing my own clothing. I’ve never been allowed to pick what I wear.” You replied as he took a spot next to you. Your eyes looked at the cloak he had draped over his arm stump. A cloak, you should get one too, everyone seemed to have some sort of over coat or the like. Shanks eyebrow popped up at your word choice, but said nothing. He wasn’t surprised that you’d never been allowed to pick your own clothes. You’d been nothing but a porcelain doll for your mother to play with. Shanks rubbed his jaw in contemplation.

“The stores in Ingles focuses on practical clothing, the type of clothes that are good and sturdy for traveling. It’ll be nothing like what you’re use to.” Shanks slowly explained, wondering if you’d be bothered by less than luxurious fabrics. He didn’t think you would, but he’d yet to see you interact outside of the controlled environment of his ship. A thoughtful looked crossed your face before you replied.

“Oh I look forward to that,” You sighed in pure happiness. “These trousers might not fit but they are a dream.” You glanced down at the threadbare and simplistic trousers. “I’ve never had the luxury of feeling the wind against my feet and ankles.” Shanks wanted to tell you that normally pants didn’t reveal ankles and your ill-fitting trousers were far from luxury… but the glow of happiness upon your face was something he never dreamed of diminishing so he kept his silence on the topic.

“Just wait until you learn all about shorts,” He chose to say, a grin creeping onto his face at the idea of how you’d react to your entire legs being unhindered by layers of fabrics. Shanks was sure you might even flop into a faint of excitement the moment you realized you could choose to wear something so revealing! He eyed your face a little more closely, drinking in the faint laugh lines and natural curves. The pirate was honestly stunned that you could still smile and appear so full of life after living in such circumstances as you had fled from. Turning his gaze back to the calm sea waters, Shanks looked forwards to seeing what other delights were entail for you.

You were greatly embarrassed to say, that you first few steps off the Red Force had you nearly face planting with a far from elegant squwak. Benn had early caught your falling body, large hands clutching your waist so you comically dangled in his grasp with your arms cartwheeling. You were sure that your face would have been beet red if it were anatomically possible when he steadied you and all eyes were on you. Clearing your throat, you swayed a little and took a deep gulp of air, trying to steady yourself again.

“Is it always like that?” You questioned as if you hadn’t nearly just made a scene of yourself. Your eyes were going everywhere in an effort to not look at their faces for you felt like you might cry in embarrassment. Before any hot tears welling up in your eyes could fall, Bonk Chunk spoke.

“Shoulda’ seen Monster the first day he was on the ship, took to sea like a champ, but when we got back on dry for supplies…?” The man rubbed his bald head in squeamish contemplation.

“Monkey vomit, for days,” Hongo rumbled, moving past you. “Tell me if you feel sick before you vomit on me, okay?”

“I’m not going to vomit on anyone!” You huffed out indignantly, still dangling in Benn’s hold while the rest of the crew lumped off the ship with containers to be filled. “That would be rude and unsightly of me!” Monster let out a screech and swung himself onto a barrel to glare at you accusatorially. You regarded the primate with a frank look. “I am a lady, you are a monkey. You have no expectations to meet, Monster. I do.”

Your words seemed to make sense in the monkey’s brain because he leaped back onto Bonk Chunk’s shoulder as Benn carefully set you back on your feet. You still felt like you were swaying, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been.

“No one expects anything from you, Aria,” Shank’s voice came from behind you as he jogged down the gang plank, adjusting his hat. “So if you vomit on Hongo, no one’s going to judge, or care.” The doctor in question began grumbling while your face burned.

“I will absolutely not be vomiting on anyone and that is final!” You clearly stated, stamping your make shift sandal on the dock. “Gods, you are all such… such men!” You erupted flinging your fingers upwards. Shanks only grinned at you and held out his hand to you.

“I’m glad you noticed, now, why don’t you stick close, we’re going to be splitting up. The men will get supplies while I get you clothes,” Shanks told you, watching as your face morphed to give him a look. He took your hand and pulled you along. “And no making passive aggressive faces at me, Aria, I already said I was paying and that is final.”

As Shanks pulled you along and away from the rest of the men, Benn leaned over to Hongo.

“How much you wanna bet she’s gunna argue with him when it comes time to pay?” Hongo snorted and shook his head.

“I’ll double whatever your placing… there is no way that little lady isn’t going to dig her heels in till the last second. Stubborn as mule that one…” Yassop dropped his arms over the two men’s shoulders.

“How ‘bout we make bets on how much he’s gonna spend cause we all no she ain’t going to be allowed to part with a single berry.” Hongo and Benn nodded in agreement, fully realizing that no matter what you said or did, Shanks would be paying at the end of the day. “Alright! Who’s betting what?” Berry numbers were called as the crew made their way towards the market.

You’d been led back to the alteration room by Annie, the seamstress of Ingles, and stripped down to your lace bridal underwear and bra set. The woman hadn’t said a word about the clearly too formal undergarments but had informed her assistant that you would also be requiring undergarments with your purchase this day. Annie had been no nonsense in whipping your undergarments off to be measured and within a matter of only a few minutes you were wearing a set much more comfortable and appropriate for your new daily life.

Shirt’s were the easiest to pick out for you. You’d indicated that you wanted practical clothing, something that would survive the seas but look nice enough milling around a market. Annie had packaged up nearly ten shirts of varying designs and colors, all to match the simple trousers you’d picked out. Two pairs you’d picked, cream and black. Those colors went with everything. You had picked a pair of grey trousers that were too short for your legs, stopping mid calf, to wear out of the shop. Annie had tried to convince you to try on a pair that fit the length of your legs but you had stated that you’d wanted to feel the wind on your ankles so Annie had acquiesced. Now you were picking out a shirt to wear out of the shop and having trouble deciding on a color.

“What about this one?” Annie’s assistant offered, holding up a green shirt that reminded you a lot of the tunic that Shank’s often wore. You blinked at it, squinted in observation, and nodded.

“I like that color and style, it’s not too tight but also made from sturdy material.” You spoke in approval. “I plan on spending a lot of time traveling, is it easy to clean?” The assistant nodded as Annie walked over, carrying fabric draped over her arm.

“That material is resistant to stains and tearing, but don’t go looking for knife fights.” Annie agreed, also approving of the choice. “It’ll be a good one for spending time at sea, the die used is resistant to sun bleaching so the green will last longer.”

“I hadn’t thought about sun bleaching,” You softly comment, scolding yourself for not thinking of such a thing. Your clothes wouldn’t be hanging in a closet meticulously cared for by an army of maids. Placing your hands on your bare hips, you nodded firmly. “I would like to wear that shirt out, please set it aside with the trousers.”

“Now dear, you mentioned wanting to have a nice dress to wear?” Annie spoke, tabbing through some fabrics on a shelf. “Something to impress your man out there?” Your eyes darted to the front of the shop where Shanks was presumably reading the towns paper. Heat filled your cheeks.

“Not mine, not mine,” You uttered out frantically, holding your arms against your chest like they would keep your heart from beating out of your body. Shanks was a very handsome man. Kind and generous too. But he wasn’t yours and it certainly wasn’t a good idea to entertain such a thought… never mind that you didn’t really know him in the weeks you’d spent on the Red Force and for all you knew, he was a terrible person having a nice streak!

It would be nice to have a man like him though…

You cleared your throat, quelling the heat within your cheeks.

“Shanks is not mine, he is just being incredibly kind in helping me out of a tough situation I found myself in. Nothing more.” You said that last part more to yourself than to Annie, and the seamstress raised her eyebrow.

“Oh?” She spouted, eyeing you closer. You may think that you hid your emotions well, but the seamstress was no spring chicken. “Well dear, not just any man spends this much on a single woman unless he’s got a claim.” That made you begin to sputter.

“But I said I would pay!” You erupted, embarrassment quickly shifting to anger. “I specifically told him that I would be the one to purchase my clothing and he had already done enough for me!” Annie snorted this time and rolled her eyes. Oh to be your age again…

“Tell that to the stack of berries he handed to me when you were changing…” She said dryly, enjoying the way you huffed and puffed in belligerence. “Face it, dear, he’s paying whether or not you want him to.” You were left stewing in place as the woman began to build the dress you wanted from scratch.

Annie had pinned the dress to your body and made adjustments until you had been happy with the result, then spent an extra hour fussing over each and every detail of the lavender fabric that matched your hair so well. You didn’t understand why she had wanted to spend so much time on a dress meant to be something that would never see a ball or gala… but she had muttered something about liking details and the beauty of simplicity. So you let her fuss.

Now you were dressing yourself in the gray trousers, green shirt, shoes that actually fit your feet properly, and looking at the selection of hats available. You’d braided your hair back so it would be out of the way and less of a hassle while sailing the sea. Most of the hats would fit your need just fine, but it was going to be your hat. You didn’t want just any old hat. Unconsciously you found yourself leaning towards the straw hats, liking the way they were simple yet would do their job perfectly.

Plucking a straw hat with a wider brim than other, your finger traced the black ribbon wrapped around it until you stroked the neat bow at the back. It was perfect! It was simple, would do the job, and had just enough femininity to it to match your wardrobe. Turning the hat, you placed it on your head and adjusted it before walking over to the floor length mirror you’d spent the morning standing in front of.

Oh my.

You hardly recognized your reflection. Gone was the refined lady of the Bonn family, replaced by a lavender haired woman that held herself with regality but looked like she belonged on a ship at sea.

“It’s perfect,” You sighed happily, running your hands along the coarse material of your trousers. There was nothing delicate about your trousers, your tunic, or your boots. They were built for travel, for daily trekking, for use. Fiddling with the strings hanging from your new hat, you turned on your heel and looked to Annie and her assistant. “I’ve never picked my own clothes before, does this look okay?”

“You look like an average traveler,” Annie told you, walking forwards and nitpicking nonexistent creases in your clothing. “Which I believe is the look you are going for? Course nothing you wear will take away from your natural beauty, dear, can’t hide that.”

“I just don’t want to be found by my family, it was trouble enough leaving them.” You sighed, picking at the end of your short braid. “Maybe I should dye my hair.”

“That’d be a right shame if you did, miss,” The assistant spoke up. “You don’t want to erase yourself trying to find your freedom. You might lose yourself entirely if you do.” She had a point, you could admit that. So you’d leave your hair alone and hope that your luck would continue.

“Alright then,” You said, turning to address them. “How much do I owe you?”

“A smile, girl, and if you offer me Berry one more time I’m going to sic your gentleman on you.” Annie told you with a strict look. Your shoulders slumped and you let out a soft groan, realizing that Shanks had indeed won this battle. Very well. So you gave Annie and the assistant one of your best smile and thanked them before venturing for the front of the shop. You could see Shanks standing outside, across the road from the shop leaning against the railing of the overlook to the port of Ingles. No doubt he’d felt cooped up in the shop.

Knowing that Annie would have your dress and clothes delivered to the Red Force when everything was ready and packed up, you departed the shop and quietly walked up to the red haired man.

“Finally done, eh?” Shanks asked, admiring the view of the ocean and the breeze he could feel on his face. It was a rather nice day he had to admit, too bad you had spent most of it inside. Perhaps tomorrow he’d have more of a chance to show you around.

“I am not happy you wouldn’t let me pay,” You announced, stopping beside him and enjoying the view. Shanks chuckled and rolled his eyes. He’d practically spent the entire day arguing with you over who got to pay for your clothes. Shanks had ultimately put his foot down and talked with Annie about not letting you pay.

“Consider it a gift, Aria, you’re starting a new life.” Shanks chuckled before giving you a brief glance. Looking back at the horizon, his head snapped back to you in surprise. He knew that you would be leaving the shop wearing new clothes, but he hadn’t realized just how fitting and beautiful you’d look in just pants and a shirt. While he stared at you, drinking in the sight and realizing just how well you’d fit in with the crew now, you blinked at him and wondered if you looked odd to him. He sure was staring for a long time.

“Do I look weird in these clothes? Annie said I looked fine but I feel odd wearing them since I’ve never picked my own clothes before.” Shanks reached up and flicked his finger along the edge of your straw hat, reminded of a certain boy he’d left behind years ago. You had the same passion in your eyes. A frightfully attractive passion he was slowly coming to terms with. Better move on before you caught on to the fact that he was unabashedly checking you out.

“You look like you fit in with a crowd, Aria, the clothes are perfect.” He said before straightening up. “I got word that the men finished with the re supply and found a tavern. We’ll meet up with them there.”

Date Published: 1/11/24

Last Edit: 1/11/24

Previous | Masterlist | Next

#red haired shanks #shanks x you #shanks x reader #one piece shanks #shanks

106 notes · View notes

mslanna · 3 days

Note

Maybe something about Raphael reacting to Haarlep reading through his diary/journal (this is why you give your incubus enrichment, folks!) and the incubus pointing out the frequency a certain 'little mouse' seems to be appearing as the subject in his writings? Heck, maybe Haarlep even tries to convince Raphael to let them obtain Tav's form so that the cambion can indulge in his little mouse whenever he wants.

What is says on the bos sfw kinda Read it on AO3

Depleted

"How often did I tell you not to do this?" Raphael plucked his diary from Haarlep's hand.

"As often as you caught me," his personal incubus replied. "Which is way not as often as I did it."

They leant back lasciviously, presenting a world of possibilities their master. As usual, Raphael barely noticed. The cambion was more concerned with the content of his diaries. Well, at least this time Haarlep had refrained from drawing naughty sketches into it.

"You really shouldn't leave them lying about like that. It's clearly an invitation." Not that Raphael would notice an invitation if he saw one. Haarlep dialled back the preening and offering. Such a spoilsport and killjoy.

"It was locked away in my desk," Raphael admonished.

"Yes, exactly where I know it will be," Haarlep purred. "That is not even trying to keep me away."

"I also told you not to touch it." The cambion's voice turned hard.

"You tell me that about so many things." Haarlep rose. He stepped behind his master, laid his chin on Raphael's shoulders and wrapped his arms around his middle. Their tail settled around his ankle, it's tip slipping up the trouser leg. "And yet, I touch everything. A lot."

Raphael slapped their hands away when they moved towards his crotch. Stuck-up snitch. What was this if not the prefect set-up for a little powerplay? If he'd chose more enjoyable sex, Raphael would, well, enjoy it more. Haarlep was sure of that. They were among the best.

"You like it," they purred into the cambion's ear. "And I know what you like best. If only you'd relax enough for an orgasm that's actually worth my services."

"Away," Raphael huffed. He did learn that a 'get off' had a very different effect on his incubus.

Still, Haarlep did not let go. "Are you pent up for a somebody special maybe? My little brat looking at another little thing scurrying through his life?" He nibbled at Raphael's ear. "I have seen them come up often in your diary. So, so often. Are we pining?"

"They are an investment, nothing more," Raphael replied gruff.

But even in the sharp rejection, Haarlep saw that they had hit a nerve. "Invested in them, are we? How nice. Do they know about your intentions? Beyond a deal?"

"There are no-" Raphael broke off because Haarlep bit him into the neck. Gently, but determined. In the moment of distraction, they sent their hands below his waist, circling over the inside of his thighs.

"Are you thinking of them now?" Haarlep purred. "Of their little mortal hands on your hot infernal skin? The earthy smell of the material plane and its deaths. What sweet words do you want to hear? Or do you prefer sounds of devout supplication? You can have all of it. Right now."

"You are not Tav." Raphael jerked free of their embrace. "Nothing you offer is close-"

"Ha! I knew it. I always do." Haarlep clapped. "How delightful. The high and mighty cambion has fallen for a stinky, mortal mousling! Are they close to falling into your trap? Will you bring them here to play?"

Raphael stayed silent. He thumbed through the diary, frowning at the sketches of dancing imps and almost suggestive flora.

"I can help you, you know?" Haarlep wound back around their master. "They don't seem too eager to deal with you. But I? I can get close, close enough to strip them of anything in your way to their heart. I can even take their form. Wouldn't that please you?"

Haarlep slipped their arms back around Raphael. "I can get them for you. Soft hands and mewling mouth and all. For you. Whenever you want. However you want. With the greatest enthusiasm. Think about it, my little brat. All the fun with none of the vulnerability."

Raphael didn't move. A good sign. He was considering it. Still, in the end, he pried them off and left the boudoir with a huff. But it was a start. A morsel to tempt the eternally uptight cambion into actual fun times.

Maybe they'd finally get something to do in this horrible place. Haarlep was used to being somebody else and despite the public displays, Raphael harboured little self-love. Pleasure was to be had efficiently, quickly, like any other business. The bloody idiot kept his lust pent up just to release it before he exploded. When there was so much more fun to be had.

But that little mouse cropping up in every other diary entry – Raphael hadn't been that obsessed since Hope. And she, well, she was a hopeless case.

Haarlep returned to the bed and pulled another of Raphael's diaries out from under a pillow. The cambion should really stop hiding them in place they were certain to find them. They'd see to it that they'd get that little mouse's form for their collection – one way or another. If only to scrounge an ounce of emotion out of Raphael for once.

#bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x haarlep #bg3 fanfiction #sleazy second-hand car dealer #anon answered #writing prompt #mel writes fanfic

42 notes · View notes

octuscle · 1 year

Text

CHAVTF: Andy

Andreas had just moved to London. He had worked successfully at an investment bank in Germany and had now received a promising offer as CFO at a FinTech. The salary was low, but for one thing, he had already put quite a bit aside despite his young age. And for another, he was attracted by the chance to join a potential unicorn early on. After the first week in his new job, he was convinced he had made the right decision. A cool team, a cool business idea. Only he looked a bit like he didn't fit in. With the suits that were a bit too classic, with the hairstyle that was styled too perfectly. So he had used Friday evening to do a little shopping. For the office, chinos and polo shirts, for client meetings, a few close-fitting fashionable suits. He was still dressed much more conservatively than most of his colleagues. But he was not the type to wear T-shirts and hoodies. The shop assistant had advised him to combine the suits with Doc Martens instead of Oxfords. This would actually bring Andreas a bit in line with many of his colleagues. So it was worth a try.

Andreas entered a store that had a large selection of the boots in the window. A young man with the very short hair stood in the entrance smoking a cigarette. He greeted Andreas with an "Oi mate, what can I do for you?" Andreas replied that he was interested in the burgundy boots with eight eyelets. "Size 14, I guess," the clerk answered and came with a box. Andreas took off his impressively large shoes. And took the first boot. It was black, though. And had 14 holes in it. "Mate, a fella like you needs real boots. Bald and eight holes don't fit. Andrew ran his hand over the short hair on his head. He loved the feeling of short stubble growing back in the evening on the sides that had been freshly shaved in the morning. "You're damn right right it aint fittin'," he replied. "Yellow laces to match the suspenders?". Andrew nodded. He laced the boots tight and rolled the yellow socks over the edge. "Boi, those pants are pissed as hell," the store clerk said, licking his lips. Andrew's bleached 501 did indeed have a good yellow tint to it. He smelled distinctly of piss. It was the weekend, after all. "You bet your ass, mate," Andrews replied. He squeezed his impressive bulge and let a little piss run through the soiled jockstrap into his jeans. "Mate, don't waste any! I'm sure you can find a cunt for that." Andy grinned. That was the plan. Outside, it was starting to get dark. Time to fill the bladder with a few beers. And then to empty it into some mug or other. "What do I owe you, mate?" asked Andy. And pulled his wallet out of his trouser pocket. "For the gloves? Twenty pounds. But first a question: did you buy these to cover your tattoos?" Andy rubbed his hands, which were inked all over. "Are you out of your mind, Boi? Anyone can see those. But you never know who you're going to meet around the next corner." Andy pulled on the gloves and gestured a few boxing punches. "I wouldn't mess with a fella like you either if you weren't wearing gloves". Andy laughed and pulled his bomber jacket over his well-worked torso.

Boi, did he have to piss now. And even if it was a waste, he stood in the nearest corner. His mighty cock lay well in the leather of the gloves. He was about to jerk off. But that would be a real waste. There was always a better hole for that.

#chav tf #male tf #muscle tf #skinhead tf

144 notes · View notes

crowswithize · 1 year

Text

Random DPXover Interactions 5

Characters: Jack Fenton and Klarion

“For the last time, I am NOT your son!” the black-haired boy shouted, trying to squirm from the man’s tight grip. He had been unceremoniously plucked from the ground and dragged for about a mile. The entire time, the man ranted off about ‘ghosts’ and ‘Danny my boy.’

Frankly, Klarion had enough of men kidnapping him. At least this time (Klarion could only assume) he wasn’t being sold into slavery.

Finally, the father heard him. He stopped in his tracks in a desolate part of the city. He brought Klarion in front of him, staring at his face. Klarion scowled at the attention but it did not dissuade the fool at all.

“When did your hair grow like horns, Dann-o?” the man asked.

Klarion’s scowl deepened. “You should invest in spectacles, mortal.”

Teekl, where have you gone? Klarion questioned, hoping to escape with his familiar.

I am here, Master Teekl responded. In the corner of Klarion’s eye, he could spot his orange-furred familiar hanging on top of a lamppost. The damned werecat stared down with a, ironically, Cheshire grin. Klarion’s frown only deepened.

The man in front of him laughed loudly, freeing Klarion from his grasp. Unsurprisingly, Klarion dropped on the cement sidewalk with a thud. His legs clattered against each other as if they were porcelain. He swore he could hear Teekl giggling through the mind link.

“You sound just like Jazzy-pants!” the man boomed. “And the traffic officers. And the government officials. And Maddie. And-”

A hex was ready on Klarion’s tongue but, like a valve, his magic went dry. His head swiveled to glare at Teekl, now sitting right on top of the headlamp.

Let me take my vengeance Klarion seethed.

The man has done no wrong. Teekl climbed down the post, staying at the base.

Did you not watch him drag me? I pity the boy who he fathered.

Teekl licked her paw. Perhaps you could help him in a non-destructive way, Master.

That’s no fun, my familiar.

To this, Teekl walked behind the lamppost, disappearing to the other side. Klarion rolled his eyes at the theatrics.

“And, most of all, the Coast Guard!” the man ended. He stared down at Klarion as if expecting a standing ovation for the number of crimes he must have committed.

Klarion does stand up, though he did not clap, and dusted off the dust on his trousers. With one elegant swish of his hand and a few magical words, the man’s eyes glowed a light blue. The man blinked, clearing up the light and really looking at Klarion.

“You don’t look like Danny,” the man said, dumbfounded. Klarion resisted the secondary curse. Teekl, though not visible, stayed an observer of this interaction.

The spell corrected the man’s eyes, in a sense. What it actually did was revert his eyes to an earlier form of development. Klarion hoped the man was born with poor eyesight so that the eyeballs would be marbles in the adult skull. To his disappointment, the man developed his poor vision much later.

Klarion rested a hand on his hip. “Evidently. I’m sure you must find whoever this Dann-o is-”

“I should’ve known! Danny’s never this pliant when we go ghosthunting!” the man laughed. Klarion, for a moment, admired this mortal son’s ability to resist his father. The man leaned down, with his hands on his knees. Klarion despised the height difference. “Do you still want to go hunting, boyo?”

Klarion paused, his turn to be shocked. “I- I’m not sure I follow.”

“Well… what did you say your name was again?”

Klarion readjusted his cufflinks. Teekl would’ve called it a nervous habit but he simply wanted to look tidy. “My name is Klarion. I am a witch boy, yet to attend the trials to be a witch man.” He ignored how he never gave his name before this point.

“Well, Kul-air-eon the Witch Boy, I’ve got an ecto-signature for a natural portal and I’m sure a kid your age wouldn’t mind shooting some ectopuses down. Like all those video games you play!” He laughed again, hitting Klarion’s back with a hard slap and jolting him forward.

Klarion scowled at the contact but made no motion to withdraw from the conversation. He could, if he wanted to, leave without saying a thing. The misunderstanding had cleared and the offer the man made was ridiculous. Klarion was his own person and he could do to the human world as he saw fit.

He caught Teekl’s red eyes, the shadow of her on the man’s back.

“It is Klarion, mortal. Neither am I the witch boy. There are plenty others of my town who are witch boys themselves-”

“I’m Jack! Jack Fenton of Fenton Works!” the man - Jack - once again interrupted. He seemed to do it not for the sake of being rude but because he lacked complete social awareness. Klarion was surprised at how little it annoyed him. “I’ve never met a witch boy before, Klary-on, so I’m pretty sure you’re the Witch Boy!”

The logic was faulty and the pronunciation of his name should not be this difficult.

Klarion eyed the man. “...What does your hunt entail, Jack Fenton?”

“GHOSTS!” Jack yelled with childlike excitement. Seconds passed as he did nothing more to elaborate.

Teekl continued to watch him with a sort of expectation. Klarion sighed. Teekl had been haggling him with about attending mortal rituals. Perhaps this ‘ghost hunting’ would give insight into the above-world practices.

Klarion stuck out his hand. “I will temporarily join you, but do not expect me to stay.”

Looking back, Klarion should have known not to lend his hand. In seconds, Jack led him on a secondary dragging across town. This time, Teekl’s laughter had no barrier stopping it.

#this was fun #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #klarion the witch boy #jack fenton #I thought the interaction would be cool #danny phantom #we need more klarion stuff #and different character interactions #phanfic #my writing #ficlet

197 notes · View notes

f1writingbyme · 8 months

Text

The Nights Are Long (But It's Easier Together)

IT'S FINALLY HERE!

My God, this took me forever

My first ever longer work of fiction. It took me months to finish it, but I'm so extremely PROUD of what I created and I hope you will enjoy it!

I want to give a very special shoutout to Mona (@lestappenforever) who has been my ROCK and an absolute ANGEL whilst I was writing. Mona, thank you for listening to my rambling, reading every single thing I sent to you, for your thoughts and input and not to forget, the betaing! I love you so, so, so much, words can't describe how much I appreciate you! ❤️

You can read it here.

Summary: The fire in his apartment is only the beginning of a long list of misfortunes that await Max. Fortunately, he has Charles by his side to help him through it. That is until Charles is the one that gets targeted.

PLEASE NOTE THAT THE CATS DO NOT EXIST IN THIS FIC. I REPEAT: THE CATS DO NOT EXIST! Please don't hate me.

Enjoy the first bit here.

The party is in full swing. Leave it to Lando to plan a well attended party during summer break where normally everybody would disappear to another country to not see any of the other drivers, having seen plenty enough of them during the race season. Charles knows, because normally he would have fucked off to some country where he could lie on the beach and drink cocktails for most of the day, spending time with his brothers and mother, and maybe some other family too, before having to turn back to full concentration again.

But for some reason, most of the drivers were here and Charles realizes he is actually truly enjoying himself. He’s on the couch next to Pierre, listening to some kind of story George is slurring at them, having had just two too many drinks by now. Charles knows he should have stopped him when he gets up to get another refill, leaving both Pierre and him on a cliffhanger, but he isn’t particularly bothered with George’s alcohol intake. He’s a grown man who knows what he’s doing - or at least most of the time. He can deal with his own hangover tomorrow. That is not Charles’ job.

He takes the break from George’s rambling as an opportunity to glance across the room. Every driver he gets along with on the grid is present, along with some friends of Lando he already knows, but the majority of the crowd is unknown to him. The only thing he knows is that some of the female friends present are more interested in all the drivers surrounding them than in their actual friends. If you could even call them friends.

Charles’ attention is drawn to the corner on his right. Max, Daniel, Martin Garrix — Martijn, Charles corrects himself mentally — are stood in a some resemblance of a triangle so that they can all face each other, listening to Martijn telling a story. Charles sees that Daniel is fully invested, eyes wide, a large smile on his face as he nods along. Max, on the other hand, is also listening, but every few minutes or so, he’s distracted by his phone, frowning at the screen, before rejecting the call. He then presses some things on his screen and to Charles it seems like he’s blocking the number. Unfortunately, he has had to do that himself one too many times.

Max’s attention is back to Martijn, taking a big sip of his gin and tonic. A bit of the drink runs down his chin. and Max uses the back of his hand to wipe it away. Charles’ eyes are glued to it, the movement of the big hand wiping away the little drop of the alcoholic drink before it makes its way down his neck. His strong, muscled neck. Charles wishes the drop had made its way down, just so he could–

“Tu regardes,” Pierre’s voice breathes in his ear. (“You’re staring.”)

It startles Charles, spilling half of his own drink over his hand and on his trousers. He feels the blush creep up his face, painting his cheeks a dark shade of red. He rips his eyes away from Max and his group, because they have all turned to face the two men on the couch after hearing Charles’ rather loud gasping and spluttering. The spluttering ends in a coughing fit, and tears gather in Charles’ eyes as he desperately gasps for air.

“He’s fine,” he hears Pierre say as he pats his back.

Through his watery eyes he sees that Pierre is talking to Max, who looks at Charles in concern, but smiles after Pierre’s words and turns back to Martijn, who restarts his story again, not paying attention to a slowly suffocating Charles Leclerc.

“Calamar, tu dois vraiment te contenir,” Pierre says once Charles has caught up with his breathing. (“Calamar, you really need to contain yourself.”)

“Je n'ai rien fait,” Charles wheezes. (“I didn’t do anything.”)

“Oui, continuez à vous le dire,” Pierre snorts and then, when Charles frowns at him, he adds, “Vous étiez pratiquement en train de baver en le regardant.” (“Yeah, keep telling yourself that. You were practically drooling whilst staring at him.”)

“Je n'étais pas.” (“I was not.”)

“Tu l'étais.” (“You so were.”)

“Tais-toi,” Charles mumbles, finishing whatever is left of his drink. (“Shut up.”)

Pierre sighs deeply. He turns to face his friend, bringing his head closer to Charles’ to have a little bit more privacy in a crowded room full of strangers. "Tu n'as pas à prendre de décision maintenant, mais s'il te plaît, Charles, soit tu lui parles, soit tu l'oublies. Arrête de te faire du mal à cause de lui. S'il te plaît." (“You don’t have to make a decision right now, but please, Charles, either talk to him or forget about him. Stop beating yourself up about him. Please.”)

Charles wants to reply to that, he really wants to, but he simply can’t. It’s not as easy as Pierre makes it sound. He can’t just forget about Max, but he also can’t just go and talk to him about the stupid little crush he has on the Dutchman, either. Or, as Pierre likes to say, ‘just tell him you are head-over-heels in love with him’. Charles neither confirms nor denies that he used a bit too much force behind his punch on his best friend’s arm after he said that.

Just as Charles is ready to vocalize the answer he has formed in his head, he’s interrupted by Max’s ringtone yet again that evening. How many calls has he already received, Charles thinks, and he realizes this must have been the sixth time within the last hour he has heard the phone ringing. He expects Max to yet again decline the call and block whoever is calling him, but he sees him frown at his screen before excusing himself to Daniel and Martijn. Charles watches him as he makes his way to the somewhat quieter kitchen area, answering the call. He sees that Max is trying to speak to the person on the other side, but every time he tries to get a word out, he stops again, probably being interrupted by the person on the other end of the phone, gesturing wildly with the hand that isn’t holding the phone, pacing back and forth in the kitchen area.

Curiosity getting the best of him, Charles excuses himself to Pierre under the pretense of getting a refill as he makes his way over to the kitchen where Max is. He knows that Pierre thinks he is finally going to declare his undying love for the Dutchman, judging by the smirk on his face. Charles rolls his eyes. Of course he’ not going to tell Max how he feels. If he ever decides to tell him how he feels, he will definitely pick a much quieter location to do said thing, away from the prying eyes of female strangers and crowded rooms.

Charles sets his glass down on the counter and opens the fridge, listening in on Max’s heated conversation. That’s what he expects it to be; heated. He expects to hear him angry, but what he definitely doesn’t expect is to hear Max trying to speak French – a very heavily accented French.

“Je ne, uh, parle — shit — pas français…”

Charles raises an eyebrow, head still buried in the fridge, obviously taking way too long to make it believable that he’s only there to get a refill.

“Mrs. Corvetto, I don’t speak French… Je ne parle pas français!”

Charles can’t take it any longer. Max starts to get frustrated, he can hear it in the tone of his voice. He closes the fridge and turns to the Dutchman. He raises his hand to wave at Max, grabbing his attention. Pointing to the phone, he asks, “Need any help?”

Max lets out a sigh, lowering the phone from his ear to hand it over to Charles. “Thank fuck. It’s my neighbor. Normally she speaks English, but she’s freaking out and I don’t know why. She never calls me, only when there’s an emergency.”

“Mrs. Corvetto, you said?” Charles asks as he takes the phone, already hearing the frantic voice of Max’s neighbor coming through the device and he hasn’t even put it anywhere close to his ear. When Max nods, he brings the phone up, making sure not to bring it too close to his ear, before he kind of shouts, “Madame Corvetto?”

He doesn’t get a direct reply from the woman, but what he does hear makes his blood run cold. He freezes on the spot, arm with the phone lifted in the air, hovering somewhere near his head. Charles just stares at Max as Mrs. Corvetto continues to shout over the phone in rapid French.

“Oh, God, what is it?” Max groans. “It’s Mr. Corvetto, right? I knew it. I’m telling you, never move into an apartment next to elderly people. It’s just– Why does she call me? What the hell can I do? Doesn’t she need to call an ambulance or something? Or, I don’t know, her family, or–”

“Max.” Charles interrupts Max’s ranting. He ends the phone call, cutting off Mrs. Corvetto’s panicked yelling with a simple press of his thumb. He stares at the blue-eyed man in front of him. “Your apartment is on fire.”

#lestappen #lestappen fic #charles leclerc/max verstappen #max verstappen/charles leclerc #my writing #The Nights Are Long (But It's Easier Together)#i am so proud of myself

58 notes · View notes

hils79 · 8 days

Text

Hils Watches In Blossom - Ep 18

Oh my GOD, Ling'er. Your timing sucks. GO AWAY!

Oh my god so now he knows, but he's not going to tell her that he knows. I sense more shenanigans where is my popcorn

Why is everyone suddenly here? Baby, I love you, but go away!

I love how cool everyone is being about the whole face swap thing. Like that's just a thing that can happen.

I see we're still brooding prettily in the moonlight even though he's just found out his dead wife is actually still alive

Checking himself out in the mirror, fixing his robes and hair. I can see he's going to be Very Normal now that he knows.

Oh, he's good at playing it cool. Like he hasn't spent hours making himself look pretty and practicing poses while he waited for her to show up

He's trying so hard to be nice and failing miserably

His little confused puppy face. I can't! Also, there is no one else here. I know he wants to protect her but surely he can tell her that he knows at least.

Wait, the kid didn't die when he walked off a cliff in the flashback??

Well you would know, dude, considering you are the spy

God, I love it when he turns on scary sect leader at the flick of a switch

Look, either tell her that you know or pretend that you don't. There's no need to tease her.

Ah, the old wrists tied together thing

Well, that didn't last long. Your wrist tying skills suck

I shouldn't laugh but they just dug up a whole skeleton using a couple of sticks and their bare hands

I love them

Aww he's so fond secretly watching his wife secretly perform an autopsy

Yeah, A'Jiang why are you here? It's the middle of the night and she already rejected you.

Poor Pan Yue getting repeatedly cockblocked by literally everyone

Look, I know brooding and pining is your whole thing but if you told her you know who she really is, or at least invite her to move back in, then you wouldn't be so sad

She looks lovely but I'm lowkey mad that they've decided she needs to dress all feminine to be worthy of a love interest. I liked her when she was stomping around in trousers and occasionally dressing as a man.

If I get invested in these two and they both die as the doomed unrequited loves I will flip a fucking table

Ooh plot twist!

#hils watches #hils watches in blossom #hils watches cdramas #in blossom #cdrama

8 notes · View notes

sugarpopss · 9 months

Text

Better Uses for Company Time (2)

Yeah I FINALLY fucking wrote the next chapter, I'm deep in my chubby Aegon shit again. He's my stress eating terrible baby man. Again I have to tag @who-told-you-this-was-butter who's chubby Aegon art makes me bark at mailmen

No real warnings? Mentions of smoking and alcohol and generally being kind of horny, Aeg's got some shit going on with the mommy issues but that's not news

Aegon didn’t even know what charity the party was for. The snippets of conversation he’d heard gave him the vague impression of something like ‘children rescued from an underground fighting ring’, but that also didn’t sound like something that actually existed. He supposed it didn’t matter all that much. The charity was getting a huge ‘fuck off sized’ donation and T&V investments was getting a boon in public opinion, something they desperately needed.

Those two facts were not nearly as (literally) pressing as a third fact was. The third fact: Aegon was absolutely fucking squeezed into his suit.

He hadn’t worn the blasted thing since he’d gone to his nephew Jace’s graduation from prep school-the same prep school all the boys in their family went to, so Aegon really hadn’t understood why he needed to attend. He’d much rather have sent Jace some shitty drugstore card with a check in it and slept until the early afternoon. But he did have to go to the stupid thing, sweating and squinting in the early summer sun like a fucking idiot.

In last summer's sun, more specifically. A lot of things had happened since then.

1: Aegon had attempted to quit smoking (twice) and had picked it back up (twice).

2: A new Braavosi restaurant that operated mostly in take-out had opened exactly one block from his apartment.

3: His younger brother had begun a kickboxing class at his university’s gym.

Two of those things were directly related to the state of Aegon's suit; he tended to graze and snack when he wasn’t smoking, and nothing was better for nicotine cravings than a full stomach. In service of that goal, Braavosi food was surprisingly heavy for seafood-it worked even better than ice cream, leaving him calm and sleepy rather than sugared and jittery.

The third thing that happened was still related to the bite and squeeze of his suit, but in a slightly more indirect way.

Aemond’s kickboxing class shouldn’t have affected him at all, but it did, in a way. It affected Aegon because when Aemond talked about it, he got the most shit eating little smirk, and Aegon had to sit across from him at the weekly family dinners their father insisted upon and look at his stupid pointy face. Something in Aegon just filled up with spite at the sight of that smirk (or self loathing or jealousy or loneliness, or some disgusting cocktail of all of those feelings topped off with some delicious ‘I wish mother was that attentive to what I say’ sprinkles), and sometimes that spite drove him to take thirds of supper and seconds of dessert, just for the satisfaction of catching a split second of disgust on his brothers face. It was fine. That’s normal and fine and extremely regular, well adjusted behavior.

So, yeah, a few things had happened in the past ten or so months, things which all contributed in some way to the current bite and pinch of Aegon’s suit trousers into his thick hips (Thankfully not into the sensitive flesh of his belly; he’d had to make the executive decision of buttoning the stupid pants underneath it. The surrender would’ve hurt his pride if it hadn’t been in tatters for years already.), the uncomfortable snugness of the jacket around his shoulders and upper arms, and the faint creaks of strain ominously issued by his shirt buttons.

But he’d wiggled into the gods-be-damned thing and shown up, because his mother had bitched (not that convincing) and his grandfather had given him that sharp Hightower glare that made Aegon want to wet his pants and curl up underneath his bed like a 23-year-old toddler (very convincing).

At the very least, the suit biting into parts of his body that should never be bitten-nonconsensually, at least-was by far the most intolerable part of the night. Haunting the edges of the rented ballroom and periodically flagging down the prettiest waitresses wasn’t the worst way to spend an evening. Seven hells, he’s had worse times at other T&V events (The yacht party of two years ago had been particularly disastrous-Aegon had slipped the bartender a ten moon note in return for never cutting him off, told Helaena that she looked like an egg in her all white blouse and skirt set, then violently upchucked over the side of the boat. Just another addition to ‘Aegon’s Greatest Hits; Familial Humiliation Edition’.)

Maybe he was being a bit of a bitch about it all-sue him.

Or maybe sue him because when he turned around from snagging a canapé (or two, or three, fuck off) from a waitress with tits like life preservers, he turned right into the path of the receptionist he’d thought about every time he’d stroked the ol’ dragon for at least three months.

Oh. Oh fuck.

In all honesty, being around her made Aegon feel a little bit like an HR disaster-in-waiting. He just couldn’t help himself from sidling up close (far too close for a professional environment, but it wasn’t like Aegon had a real position at T&V anyway) and saying the first thing that popped into his mind-which was usually some variation of a come-on paired with a backhanded compliment.

He couldn’t help it. He liked the way she would look at him, then away, then back to him, how she’d shift and shrug him off but didn’t get genuinely upset, how sometimes-not often, but sometimes-he made her laugh, and Aegon couldn’t decide if that sound made his heart or his cock warm faster.

“This is like, super lavish, huh?”

She was looking at him, expecting a response-undoubtedly taking in his handful of appetizers and straining suit and alcohol-flushed cheeks. Aegon nodded, swallowing down both the mouthful of canapé and the sudden dryness in his mouth. Gods, did she just fucking materialize there?

“I mean, it’s for the kids in fighting cages, y’know? They…need money, I guess. To get out of the cages.”

That was stupid. He was pleasantly tipsy, sure, but certainly not intoxicated enough to spout garbage like that. He wasn’t even sure that was what the event was for.

He watched her expression settle into a look somewhere in the valley between confusion and amusement, then shoved the second canapé into his mouth.

Taglist ( I have a fic with a taglist?? wowee): @padfooteyes @fan-goddess

#I have a tag list!!! I'm a big girl!!!#chubby aegon #90s wallstreet aegon #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fic #aegon targaryen ii #ageon x reader fic #chubby!aegon #can you tell how much I hate the child fighting rings plot #i am BACK on my chubby aegon shit #also I dont know what rich people eat #I had hummus for dinner leave me alone

41 notes · View notes