#and I can fucking *smell* the shot I poured that I didn’t get to drink bc my Chipotle came

[isdalinarhot]

Does everything suck? Yes. Am I in over my head? Yes. Do I want to be alive? Not a question I feel comfortable examining while drunk. Will it all be ok? Girl I don’t know! Am I happy? No!

#luke.txt #drunkposting #negative #god so I’m waiting for the shower water to warm up #and I can fucking *smell* the shot I poured that I didn’t get to drink bc my Chipotle came #and I want it so bad #I wanna get more fucked up #but if I do that I’ll throw up everywhere and it’ll be a waste of vodka #so I just have to SIT HERE. #UGH #please please lease please please let things be okay :( #not cosmere

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part one | r.c.

summary:

“I’ll be upstairs with Monique, a’ight?” he said, muttering in your ear. “Are you okay getting the drinks to the boys?”

“Yeah yeah,” you huffed with a wave. “Go on. Be safe.”

Rafe smirked at you, ignoring how Monique was staring daggers at you. “Come get me if anything’s wrong, you hear me precious?”

OR; Topper gets duped by a pretty “bartender”, Rafe (almost) has another hook up, and you're trying to tell yourself that this is enough.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: mention of drugs and alcohol (weed!), this chapter has no smut, but the later parts will so 18+ MDNI!

word count: 2,5k

author's note: wait... is this finally the first chapter of illicit affairs?🤭 yes it is!!! ik i've been teasing it for so long but it's finally hereee!!! inspired by my own tom holland fic (don't talk to me pls) and it has evolved into a series... i hope you love it so much!!!

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part one: "don't call me kid"

Women and men can’t be “just friends”.

You had always hated that saying. Like, why the hell couldn’t men and women be friends? All three of your best friends were guys, and you didn’t even remotely want to be anything more than friends with any of them.

Okay, maybe you wouldn’t mind being more than friends with one of them.

Bane of your existence.

Pain in the ass.

Annoying as hell.

Your best friend, Rafe Cameron.

You tried so hard to not be in love with him, to only be his friend. Mostly because it would make your life so much less complicated, but also because you hated proving that saying right by being in love with your guy best friend.

“Hey, you still with us?”

“What?”

Rafe stared at you with a frown, before he plucked the joint from your lips.

“You nearly smoked the entire thing by yourself. What’s got you thinking so hard?”

He raised an eyebrow at you while taking a hit from the joint, barely pulling it from his lips before Kelce snagged it from him.

“Greedy bitch,” Rafe huffed before he turned his attention back to you. “You tired, precious? Want to leave?”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname - despite the long tradition of it - and shook your head. “Nah. It’s not even one. And Topper hasn’t made a fool of himself yet.”

“Fuck you,” Topper shot back immediately, moving his cup out of the way when you reached for it. “No, no drinks for mean girls.”

“Come on, don’t be such an asshole,” you whined, smacking your mouth a little to get rid of the dryness the joint has left. Making grabby hands at the cup, you annoyed Topper until he finally gave in, handing you his cup. You took a big gulp, before you pulled a face, pushing the cup back into his hands, barely able to swallow whatever the hell he was drinking.

“Ew, what is that?”

“Some girl in the kitchen made it for him,” Rafe told you, snickering. “I don’t think he was even watching what she was pouring into his cup. Too entranced by her pretty eyes.”

“She said she’s a bartender,” Topper said defensively and you only snorted. He made it far too easy for girls to mess with him.

“Top, I love you,” you said, getting to your feet and straightening your clothes in the process. “But please, you can’t keep falling in love with every pretty girl who pays attention to you.”

“But I’ve been in love with you for six years precious,” Topper proclaimed as he clutched his chest melodramatically, “When will you give me a chance?”

You only scoffed at his antics, twisting your hair up before putting a hair clip in it. “You wish,” you said, slapping his hands away. “I’ll get us some new drinks.”

“I’ll come with,” Rafe offered.

“Can you get me one too?” Kelce piped up and you pinched his cheek, making him wince.

“Vodka soda?”

Kelce gave you a dirty look, rubbing his cheek before he nodded petulantly. You gave him a thumbs up, grabbing Rafe by the wrist to drag him inside.

It was incredibly packed as soon as you entered the house from the backyard, the body heat from about 50 drunk people raising the temperature indoors and it smelled like the inside of a beer keg. Rafe kept his hand on your lower back, to not lose track of you as you carefully weaved between the people on your way to the kitchen. You tried not to get distracted by how his hand occasionally brushed over your exposed skin whenever your top rode up. He had always been this way. Running a hand through Topper’s hair to annoy him, clasping Kelce’s shoulder whenever he drank too much and was hanging over the toilet, squeezing Wheezie’s arm in a quick hug, and keeping his hand on your lower back whenever the two of you were walking somewhere crowded. He liked to show affection the way his father failed to do. So you refused to overthink it when his hands splayed over your skin, despite your heart racing whenever it happened.

Losing yourself to your thoughts for a second, you didn’t pay any attention when some guy walked into you, too busy talking with his friend to watch where he was going. You nearly went flying face down on the ground, but Rafe’s hand quickly found your waist, steadying you.

“Hey, watch it!” Rafe snapped at the guy, who only raised his hands in defense.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, gently pushing his hands off of you. “We’re nearly there, don’t start a fight.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see Rafe giving the guy a stink eye before you reached the kitchen, where it luckily wasn’t as cramped, with only a handful of people mingling and talking. Grabbing four cups off of the stack on the kitchen island, you pursed your lips as you let your eyes roam over the options, rows, and rows of alcohol.

“Do you want a beer or something harder?”

“Beer, I think I might have to drive us home,” Rafe replied, grabbing the vodka bottle that was on his left, and handing it to you.

You unstacked the cups on the counter and poured vodka into three of them. Rafe reappeared by your side - not that you had noticed him leaving, you were too focused on making sure there was an equal amount of vodka in all the cups - sipping on a beer, a jug of cranberry juice in his other hand. You grabbed the jug out of his hand, wordlessly, filling your cup to the brim.

“Where’s the club soda?” you asked, glancing at him over your shoulder. Rafe only shrugged.

“Couldn’t find it.”

“Here’s club soda, Rafe,” a flirty voice suddenly said, and Monique Colver batted her long, fake eyelashes at Rafe.

“Thanks Monique,” Rafe replied with a smirk, taking the bottle to give it to you, which you accepted wordlessly.

Here we go.

“Call me Moni.”

“Moany?” you muttered under your breath while you filled the other two cups, barely wincing when Rafe gave you a side eye, acting like he was listening to every word that left Monique’s lips.

“- but I told my dad I really wanted to travel a bit so he got a me a trip to Europe.”

“Oh yeah? What countries you tryna see?”

Ugh.

You downed your entire cup in one go, already refilling it when you heard “show you” and “upstairs” and you rolled your eyes. You lifted your cup to your lips, basically putting your entire face in it, really, anything to remove yourself from this conversation, only pausing with drowning yourself when you felt Rafe’s hand on your lower back. Again.

“I’ll be upstairs with Monique, a’ight?” he said, muttering in your ear. “Are you okay getting the drinks to the boys?”

“Yeah yeah,” you huffed with a wave. “Go on. Be safe.”

Rafe smirked at you, ignoring how Monique was staring daggers at you. “Come get me if anything’s wrong, you hear me precious?”

You flipped him off and he took that as a sign to leave, following Monique as she dragged him upstairs.

“Bitch,” you muttered to yourself, grabbing the three cups on the counter and heading back outside to the boys.

It was a miracle that not a single drop was spilled on the way, probably because you were too busy trying not to imagine what was going on upstairs.

“There she is!” Kelce greeted you. “Almost died of thirst. What took you so long?”

“Don’t ask,” you muttered, handing them the drinks and Topper eyed you suspiciously. Acting like you didn’t notice it, you plopped yourself into the empty seat next to them, taking a big gulp from your drink.

“Where’s Rafe?”

“Where do you think?” you said with a sigh, giving him a look.

You weren’t jealous.

Okay, you were.

But it wasn’t the main reason why you were so annoyed.

You just hated it when the girls Rafe hooked up with always treated you like you were their competition, like you would take him away from them.

Which, fair, you could if you wanted. If you faked an injury or being sick, Rafe would immediately drop them to get you home.

But he’d never want you the way he wanted them. Yes, you knew he loved you, and yes he was your best friend, but you couldn’t help but want more. Maybe that was selfish. You let out a small sigh, leaning your head on Kelce’s shoulder, missing the way he glanced at Topper. Lucky for you, they decided against pushing it. Taking a sip from your drink, you tried not to think about Monique and Rafe. It didn’t help that the vodka and the joint were starting to work, spreading into your system, making you feel all warm and woozy, your head cloudy.

Your eyebrows shot up when Rafe suddenly appeared, squeezing himself between you and the armrest, his hair disheveled. You were still stewing, looking at him with a crease on your forehead.

“That was quick,” you noted. “Where did you leave Moany?” You couldn’t help but ask, putting emphasis on her nickname.

Rafe only shook his head, plucking your cup out of your hand to take a big gulp.

“That man is traumatized,” Kelce pointed out, nodding in understanding like he didn’t need any further explanation.

“Wait, Monique Colver?” Topper asked. “She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

Rafe held up his hand, stopping him. “Yes, but that wasn’t the problem.”

You rolled your eyes, already knowing what was coming. He was such a drama queen sometimes.

“What did she do?”

Rafe didn’t answer, taking another sip of the drink, before he winced. “She told me to call her precious.”

“What?!”

“HUH??”

“Ew!”

“You know what’s the worst?” Rafe groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “I didn’t even get off.”

“That’s your biggest problem??”

He rolled his eyes at you, shifting on the sofa. “Pretty big, yeah.”

“Ugh.”

“Can we get back to Monique wanting you to call her precious?” Kelce interjected. “Did Rafe call you precious in front of her?”

“Yes, very clearly. There’s no way she didn’t hear,” you replied.

“Maybe she hates your guts and she wanted to roleplay being you while Rafe abuses her in a sex-way.”

“Kelce, literally never open your mouth again,” you groaned, covering your ears with your hands, while Topper cracked up, Rafe only pulled a face.

“It makes sense,” Topper insisted. “Like, precious is the only girl who’s been around us, or well, Rafe, constantly. You know, apart from Sarah and Wheezie. Maybe that was Monique’s way of telling you she wants to be your girlfriend.”

“What?” Rafe asked, his forehead creased.

You snorted, shaking your head. “You’re giving her way too much credit, I think she’s just weird.”

“You’re biased,” Topper pointed out, reaching behind Kelce’s to boop you on the head. “I don’t think you’ve ever liked any of the girls Rafe hooked up with.”

“Ugh, what’s there to like? They either act like I’m invisible or are passive aggressive bitches,” you huffed, smacking his hand away. Rafe snickered, throwing an arm around your shoulder to pull you close, pressing a kiss on your head.

“They’re jus’ jealous, cuz you’re the only girl I keep around.”

“Get off me,” you grumbled, your cheeks warming regardless. Rafe knew how to make you feel special.

Kelce yawned, stretching his arms, laying one of them on top of Rafe’s arm around your shoulder. “This party sucks. And I’m starving.”

“I’m so down for tacos right now, do you think Mateo’s still open?” Topper asked, sitting up straight because if there was one thing he took seriously, it was tacos.

“It’s two am on a Saturday,” you pointed out, and his shoulders sagged. You exchanged looks with Rafe, a grin growing on your face. “His truck is definitely still open.”

“Alright!” Topper cheered, jumping up. “Let’s go then!”

He dragged the rest of you off of the couch, herding you through the backyard and to the car, all the while laughing and joking around. You ignored the dirty looks you received from others as you got into the passenger seat, Rafe getting into the driver’s seat of his truck.

It didn’t take long until Rafe pulled up into the parking lot where Mateo’s food truck was parked, the four of you tumbling out of the car, Topper nearly falling flat on his face as he sprinted to the food truck. The light was still on, with faint Spanish music playing in the background.

“If it isn’t my four favorite Kooks,” Mate said, wiping the counter with a towel, before throwing it over his shoulder, eyeing you expectantly as you stood in a row in front of him. “Can I help you?”

“Do you have any carne asada tacos?” Kelce asked, peering over the display.

“Even four would be enough,” Topper added, wringing his hands nervously.

Mateo sighed and you’d already come to terms with having to go to bed with a taco craving, before he grinned at you, shaking his head fondly.

“Grab some drinks and have some patience, I’ll feed you in a second.”

Ten minutes later, the four of you were chowing down on some tacos, washing it down with ice-cold cans of coke.

“Fuck, I so needed this,” Topper moaned, biting into his third taco and you rolled your eyes at him, dabbing at your mouth with a napkin.

“Get it together Top.”

Rafe nudged you with his knee, giving you a look. “Give him a break, I know you’ve been craving some tacos as well,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, which made you pull a face.

“Eurgh, please use a napkin you slob.”

You pushed the stack of napkins in his direction and he only grinned at you, picking up some off the stack to wipe his mouth.

“What would I do without you?” he teased, but you only rolled your eyes fondly, picking up some nachos.

“Whatever, eat your damn taco.”

Rafe squeezed your wrist with his clean hand, and you only leaned your head on his shoulder, starting to zone out when they started talking about some new boat, just enjoying their company. Honestly, you were glad you had them. Even if they were boys, incredibly dumb, and lacked a little tact sometimes, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You glanced down, where your legs were pressed against Rafe’s as you sat next to each other on the picnic bench, just like always.

Maybe, you thought to yourself, maybe this was enough.

“You good?” Rafe asked, raising a brow at you, taco halfway into his mouth.

“Yep, ‘m perfect.”

It had to be.

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author's note: tell me what you think pls!!!

🏷️list: @maybankslover

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x you #outer banks #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #obx #obx fanfiction

[yournextbimbogf]

I heard this soundgasm audio about a friend! Bartender x listener and i cant help but to think about it being Miguel ૮꒰ ˊᗜˋ ꒱ა

“What can i get for you today?—” Said miguel when he used his almost robotic tone. He had a smile plastered on this face as he cleans a empty beer glass. Suddenly at the sight of you he grins at the sight of you sitting infront of him.

“Ahh its just you.” he says in a sarcastic tone yet again, you were his best friend since Highschool yet ever since he got this job he has seen you as more.

“Don’t gotta use your fake voice all the time you know?” You argued back holding back a chuckle. Suddenly his hands fly up as he’s quick to defend himself.

“Hey! It’s not my fault i thought i saw a new costumer” he belted out in a defending tone, after all you were his best friend and his best costumer.

“Like your not excited to see me.” you say in a teasing tone back at him. Before he can even reply back he pours you a shot of tequila before sliding the glass across the wooden table. As the glass touches your hand you instantly drink it as you shake your head from the usual sour taste. Miguel finishes cleaning up the dirty glasses as he places them into the sink.

“Hey i saw you on that dance floor and i promise you were bending your back like there’s no tomorrow.” He says while chuckling slightly, all though it was cute seeing the way you danced and laughed. He sees you covering your face in embarrassment as you giggle too. He knew he wasn’t the one to talk, he couldn’t admit he was Atleast staring at your body for a good minute.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t like it though.” You blurted out without a thought in mind. You immediately back track your words before your eyes widen.

“But i did though so what now?” Miguel blurted back. All you personally wanted to was just grab his uniform and kiss him, you didn’t know if it was the alcohol talking or yourself. So you decided to pass the silence by doing what you always wanted to do. You grab his collar and kiss him, a couple of moments later he pulls back before saying.

“Look, if you want to do this i want you to tell me that you do.” He sees you nod your head and sighs yet again.

“I’m serious, i care for you and i don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” He insisted. He didn’t want you to feel any sorts of uncomfortable.

“Yes Miguel i want to do this.” you say this with a smirk.

Now here were you two. Panting and sweating like there’s no tomorrow. The sweet smell of sex is clouding the room as he kisses all the way to your neck til he stops at your pussy.

“May i?” He chimed before taking off your panties and licking your clit. His fingers slip inside you as you can feel a big wave of pleasure hitting your body. You feel yourself on the verge of cumming

“Mi Reina, cum for me.” After he said that, that instantly sets you over the edge and you moan loudly. He smiles genuinely before standing up. He can tell by the look on your face that your hiding something that you want to say, so he tilts his head in confusion.

“It’s nothing i jus’ wanted..you know?” You say gesturing that you wanted to have his cock too. He unzips his pants and lets out his cock. Your eyes slightly open at the length.

“This is what you wanted?” He spoke in a almost mocking tone. He comes closer to you and slaps the tip onto your pussy before sliding it in. Right away he groans at the sight of your cunt hugging him like a glove. He starts to move and kiss you. He bucks his hips into yours while his tongue finds his way inside your mouth. He pulls back and kisses your neck, he starts to make hickeys on your neck while he’s still inside you.

“F-fuck, oh god miguel! I’m cumming” you stammer out in pleasure, as you do you feel a hand rubbing your clit. Miguel’s eyes shut as he feels your pussy tighten around his base. He instantly cums inside your pussy leaving you with a full feeling. He pulls out his cock and he watches the sight of your pussy dripping with his cum. He smiles before telling you something.

“I know i can’t believe i’m saying this but..I’ve had feelings for you since i got this job as a bartender. I love your smile, your hair, your eyes, i love everything about you.” He finally tells you after keeping it a secret. He sees you smile as you spoke in a soft tone.

“Miguel you could’ve taken me out first?! i’m playing but I’ve liked you too.” He grunts in fake annoyance before plopping down next to you and pressing your head into his chest and sighing.

“You are the most perfect one aren’t you?”

My lovely taglist that deserves the world ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა: @apolloswife @chiwhorei @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @monstera02 @oharaslover @rxckstarss !!

and btw tysm for the banner @saradika-graphics ≽^•⩊•^≼!!

#tumblr fyp #fypツ #yournextbimbogf #smut #fanfiction #yournextbimbogfwriting #please consider reblogging #the avengers #miguel x reader smut #miguel o’hara blurb #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman x reader #bartender! mig🤑 #Bartender! miguel #non spiderman! au #miguel ohara smut #miguel o’hara fanfic

[beardedjoel]

new habits

part two of new addiction | part one 

boss!joel x f!reader one-shot collection

summary: you can’t place the emotion - is joel miller guilty for the rendezvous you two had in his office? you soon get an answer in the form of  another late night visit with him.

warnings: 18+! MDNI! non-apocalypse au, boss!joel is a lil mean but not too mean, oral sex (f recieving), dirty talk, unprotected piv, fingering, cum play, squirting, size kink kinda, panty stealing, daddy kink (my hand slipped i swear)

word count: 5.1k

a/n: hellooooo back with another part for boss!joel and reader, i got literally one request for another part and was like yep i’m not tired of them yet at ALL so here we go! time to get more depraved with my fav manager

If you didn’t know any better, it would seem like Joel Miller was avoiding you. 

The day after what you’ve been referring to as the incident (the most mind blowing incident) he hadn’t even stopped by the office, spending the entire day out at the construction sites. That was a Friday, so the entire weekend you pined, plotted, and over thought the whole thing. Could it be possible that Joel - the same Joel who had gladly and enthusiastically spit right into your mouth for fuck’s sake - was feeling guilty? He certainly hadn’t seemed it when his cock was shoved so deep in your pussy you could’ve seen stars, so what the hell gives now?

Monday came, and Joel breezed into the office in his typical manner, too busy for anything other than a quick “morning” to you all, grumbling that “there’d better be coffee made” before working on scheduling and blueprints in his office for a few hours. 

Just having him so close by, your desk mere feet from his office door, makes your skin buzz. Knowing the things you did in there, the depths of your depravity with him that nobody else in the room could even dream about, makes you wild. You realize halfway through the day you’re practically soaking your panties with just your thoughts alone. You really could stand to get it together, you think as you sneak into the break room for a cup of tea, hoping the calming drink could take your mind off of things. 

Suddenly the exact opposite is happening when Joel enters the room, sidling up next to you at the counter, fixing to pour himself a cup of coffee. For a few moments just the potent, rich smell of it hangs in the air between you two and Joel clears his throat a little. 

“How was your weekend, doll?” he asks quietly, and when you glance at him in semi-shock, he has a knowing smirk on his face. He’s enjoying this, he knows he’s been making you squirm for days, and is testing your patience.

“Was alright. I had a lot to think about,” you reply, and Joel snorts a tiny chuckle out. 

“I’ll bet,” he replies, and before you can even return the favor to ask him about his weekend, his hand is around the mug handle and he’s leaving the room. 

He doesn’t interact with you for the rest of the day. 

You’re practically fuming as you walk to your car after work, not having heard much else from Joel other than the things he was telling everyone in your vicinity, from upcoming projects to a few housekeeping items he needed done around the office this week. The only respite you’d had was when his eyes lingered slightly on you, legs crossed and stretching out gracefully from your short dress. His gaze had raked over your body in a quick, ravenous glance, and that one look could’ve eaten you alive with how much power was behind it. Only a flash of the man you’d met that night, that was all you got for now. 

You don’t know what to do from here. Are you supposed to wait for another note? Or did your last secret rendezvous mean that it was free game to pay him a visit any time you wanted as well? You had a feeling the former was more his style, wanting to be in control, to have the upper hand here. You sigh as you grip the wheel on the way home, knowing there isn’t exactly a handbook for the perfect way to have a secret affair with your boss. 

When Wednesday comes around, with Tuesday having had almost the same outcome, you’re practically seething, ready to confront him privately and figure out just what the hell is going on in that twisted mind of his. If he likes playing games, fine, you’d just like to at least be clued into them so you can get some enjoyment from the chase of it all. 

Your phone pings in the middle of the workday, and your lips part in shock as you glance down at the screen and see words that make the blood rush inside your ears and your heart jump. A new message from Joel Miller. You’d completely forgotten you’d even saved his number on your first day of work, him claiming he wanted every employee to have it for emergencies. And you have to wonder if what he messaged you for truly was, well, an emergency, just of a different nature. A sly smile creeps onto your lips as you read the words on your screen. 

Joel Miller: Feeling awful stressed today. Meeting after fuckin meeting. Think you could help me out with that, babydoll? 

Your fingers go flying, not caring just how desperately quick you’re texting him back, all the anger brewing inside of you at him quickly forgotten. 

You: Whatever you need from me boss ;)

Joel Miller: How about some pretty photos of you to ease my pain

You swallow hard, sneaking off the bathroom, your heartbeat pounding against your chest as if every single person in this office can read your mind and knows what you’re about to do. You lock yourself inside a stall and try to think quickly of what Joel would want to see from you.

You pull the backside of your dress up, showing off the curve of your ass adorned by a cheeky, red lace set of panties and try to angle your phone in a way that will capture the sexy essence you’re going for, feeling absolutely ridiculous with the way you’re contorting your body to try to get the shot. Next, you put a foot up on the toilet seat and try to get an upskirt shot, placing your free hand dangerously close to your pussy, letting the fingers rest comfortably, spread out along your thigh teasingly. 

Fuck. Yes. You’re surprised at just how well the photos turned out given your time constraint and shaky hands. You’ve taken a few photos like this before, but something about these, knowing they’re going to Joel, your heart flutters with anticipation as you queue them up with a message for him.

You: Hope these help until you can get the real thing

When you exit the stall with a shaky breath and return to your desk, he hasn’t answered yet, and you assume with good intentions that he’s just in a meeting, not ignoring your absolutely perfect nudes you’ve sent over.

You tap your foot impatiently, trying to get some work done, when your phone lights up next to you, alerting you to a message.

Joel Miller: So dirty baby. Need to get my hands on that perfect ass

You decide on a bold whim to leave him hanging, let him stew without a response from you to egg him on, only the photos.

Joel’s appearance in the office later that evening shows just how long he felt his day was - his tie askew, the knot partially pulled down to give his neck some room to breathe, and hair mussed from running his hands through it too many times. In some perverted little way, you find the sight of him looking so rough exciting. The more stressed Joel is, the more likely he’ll need to lean on you tonight. When your life got this pathetic, you don’t know, but you have a feeling you could trace it back to the first time you laid eyes on Joel Miller.

He walks through the space, saying quick goodnights to a few of his employees that are finishing up for the day, claiming he forgot something at the office when he went out for his meetings earlier. As he reaches to pass your desk, your heart jumps into your throat, and suddenly it’s so dry you can barely swallow. 

An imperceptible nod. That’s all he gives you when he passes, but it says everything you need to know. He needs you tonight. 

You wriggle in your seat, the dull ache of arousal coming to your attention between your legs as you start to anticipate Joel’s advances being focused on you in just a few short moments. You impatiently wait out everyone else in the office, practically jumping out of your chair at the last of your coworker’s departures.

Shoulders back. Deep breath. Exude confidence.

The silent chant moves through your thoughts as you approach Joel’s office door and poke your head in the small space where the door was left cracked, slowly pushing it open as you enter. The sight that awaits you, Joel sitting back in his office chair, legs spread, as if inviting you to his lap, makes your knees want to quake.

He hasn’t said a word yet, so you choose not to either, taking careful, bordering on feline-like steps around his desk to where he sits. You swing your leg over him delicately, spreading yourself wide as you settle onto his lap, straddling him. He instantly groans at the pressure of your warm body on him, as if that was all he needed in the world to satisfy him.

“Dressed up today, huh? I kinda like it,” you say, wrapping your fingers around the tie and pulling slightly, nudging his head a bit closer to yours.

“Client meetings for a big project, hate wearin’ this shit,” he grumbles. He reaches up to loosen his tie and pull it off over his head, tossing it on the floor next to his chair.

His lips find your neck, but he’s more reserved today, already knowing he has you right where he wants you. His lips graze the skin lightly, sending shiver after shiver of goosebumps over your body. Playful light kisses press onto the sensitive skin over and over, Joel’s tongue flicking out every so often to taste you even deeper. 

“Smell so fuckin’ good, all a man needs after a day like mine, swear,” he says gruffly, barely pulling off of your neck, taking a deep breath of the perfume you’d put on just for him, every single day since you started working here.

“You can talk to me, y’know. What I’m here for, all to take care of you. I’m whatever you need,” you say huskily, already lost in all the touch he’s delivering. He simply lets out a small hum of satisfaction, running his large, rough hands along your back, feeling the curve of it as you arch into his touch.

“That make you all wet, babydoll? Wantin’ that pussy to get all used up by me when I need you?” His lips are on you the second his sentence finished, sucking on your neck lightly before tracing up to your earlobe and lightly taking it between his lips.

“Yes, Mr. Miller,” you reply, barely a hushed whisper. You mewl quietly at his lips’ various movements on you, drawing your hips down onto his lap, trying to find any sense of relief. The dull ache from earlier has been replaced quickly with a full on throbbing on your sensitive clit, making you feel wild with need for him.

“Mmm, so polite, sweetheart. Weren’t so polite earlier, were you? Takin’ naughty photos in the bathroom for me.”

You blush under his words and his gaze, unable to control the slightly burning creeping onto your cheeks at the thought of you taking those photos for him earlier. It had felt wrong, contorting and perching yourself just right to get a photo to help fulfill his little fantasies, and you loved every minute of it.

“Liked what you saw?” you ask, your hips starting to grind absentmindedly against his center.

“Y’know I did,” he says, hands sliding to your ass, pulling you closer so that your movements get more friction. You can feel yourself seeping through your panties already, probably about to soak the front of him at any moment. “Such a tease, those little photos, thought ‘bout ‘em all day.”

“What did you think about, huh? What got you through the day?” you whisper melodically in his ear, trying to be the soothing presence for him that you desire so badly to be.

Joel chuckles, deep and throaty. “Little slut, want to hear me talk about how I love your pussy so bad, don’t you? Thought about it all fuckin’ day, could barely hear a word in those damn meetings.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” you purr, hips grinding a little harder, and you let out a breathy sound. You pinch your lips together, suddenly feeling slightly embarrassed at just how shamelessly you’re moving yourself against him. At the least you’re comforted by the fact that you can feel his hard length straining against his jeans as you rub against him, meaning he’s enjoying this just as much.

“Go on, don’t be shy,” Joel says, looking down in between you at the way you’re moving on him. “Kept you waiting a long time, didn’t I, babydoll? Needin’ this cock again so badly.”

You nod as you look at him with heady eyes starting to glaze over with need. “Thought you didn’t need me anymore. Wanted to do my good little job for you.” You whine with a pout, your voice is a low pitched hush, head buried in his shoulder as you continue to get yourself off.

“Doin’ so good, waitin’ on me every moment in case I need ya,” Joel says, and you’re embarrassingly close to climaxing, your soaked panties rubbing perfectly against your clit as you grind on his jeans, the firmness of his cock pressing deliciously against your folds.

“I’m- I’m close…” you whimper.

Joel chuckles again, clearly amused at just how easy it is for you to lose yourself to him. His hands move from where they’ve been kneading your ass through your dress to your hips, and he grips tightly, lifting you up. Your hips grind out into nothing, and you groan loudly at the unexpected interruption in your quickly approaching bliss.

“N-no, Mr. Miller, I- please -” Your entire body shudders down with the loss of the coming climax, your insides feeling like they’re clawing to get the sensation out, but with nothing there to edge it forward, you’re lost. You sigh in desperation, reaching to grip his shoulders and pull yourself back down.

“Nuh-uh, sugar,” Joel tuts with a devious glint in his eye. “Playin’ with you will make me feel better, isn’t that what you want?”

Your entire body shakes as you nod yes, and Joel smirks happily. “Good girl,” he says, “Now what to do with you…” He looks you over, his eyes roaming over your tits now starting to spill out of the top of your dress with the way you’d been rubbing against him, moving the fabric.

“You like dressin’ like a little whore for me, don’t you, havin’ your tits out and everything,” he says, releasing your hips to palm both of them, squeezing them upwards, testing the weight in his hands. 

“Want to give you something fun to look at at work,” you say with a little giggle, which Joel returns with his own gruff chuckle.

“Y’sure do,” he concludes, tearing the dress down to reveal your chest to him, and he hisses through his teeth, seeing your bare tits bounce out at him.

“Knew you’d look so perfect,” he practically growls out, immediately going for one of your nipples, rolling it between his fingers. You let out a gasp, your hips defying all logic and moving of their own accord, grinding down on him again as your back arches.

“Lemme taste you, that’ll make daddy feel so much better,” Joel says, eyes transfixed on the way he’s playing with your nipples and your body’s eager reactions to it. You’re not even sure he realizes the new shift in dynamic he’s just introduced, the words flowing out of him so naturally.

“Yes, daddy, taste me, taste me,” you say, echoing him without a second thought. You weren’t sure where it came from, but whatever gets Joel off seems to get you off, if you’re honest. Your cunt is aching beyond control now, the throbbing bordering on painful now, your breath hitching at the thought of his tongue licking the increasingly sensitive spot.

“Be good and get on up there, then,” Joel commands, nodding towards the desk. You sit on the edge, legs dangling and spreading open for him. “All the way back,” Joel corrects, grabbing at your hips and scooting you himself, then placing a hand on your chest and pushing back, so that you eventually end up laying down completely. Joel hovers over you, playing with the hem of your dress, slowly pulling it up. 

You writhe and wriggle, strangled little cries coming out of your mouth, unable to take the anticipation anymore.

“Joel…” you whine.

“Haven't even started yet and you’re callin’ my name,” he laughs before his fingers reach the band of your underwear, sliding a finger along it. You cry out again when his finger brushes further down on your mound. You want to slam your fists onto the desk in pure desire-fueled frustration, but you refrain, showing Joel how eager you are by movements and twists of your hips.

When he finally pulls your panties down, the cool air touching your bare sex, you sigh a bit of relief at the coming pleasure. 

“Didn’t get to ‘preciate this ‘nuff the last time, sugar,” Joel muses. “Bet you taste so sweet too… fuckin’ divine…” One of his fingers swipes through your slit and you gasp, peering up at him as you watch him slide it through several times to your entrance, gathering as much slickness as he can. He slides the finger into his mouth, tasting it almost pornographically, groaning in pleasure before popping it out.

“Was right, y’know. Ever tasted yourself, babydoll?” Joel asks with an enticing lick of his lips, like he needs to clean every bit of you off that he can.

“N-no, I haven’t,” you answer, too stunned by his behavior and your distractingly aching pussy to think of anything witty to retort.

“Oh, you’re missin’ out,” he coos before repeating the same motions on your pussy, every time he brushes the sensitive bud of your clit it’s own tiny form of torture. He leans over your body, his shiny, slick finger reaching towards your mouth. 

“Don’t make me hav’ta ask,” he warns, and you sit up on your elbows and part your lips alluringly, allowing his finger to slide right in. You suck hard with a swirl of your tongue, hoping it emulates the way your mouth had felt on his cock just a few days ago. It seems to do the trick, Joel’s smile growing into a devious smirk as he groans a little.

“This fuckin’ mouth,” he says with a shake of his head, letting his finger linger a few moments longer, pumping it in and out of your mouth in slow strokes. “Such a pretty mouth, but does such dirty things for me, doesn’t it?”

You nod for him before Joel pulls his finger out of your mouth and moves back to position himself between your legs.

“Legs up, just like that,” Joel says, manually lifting your legs so that your knees are bent with your feet flat on the desk, legs immediately falling open for him. He takes a long pause to look at your completely exposed cunt, a burning look of desire in his eyes.

“Poor baby, ain’t ya? So wet and ready with no cock inside ya to ease the pain. You achin’ for daddy’s cock, sugar?” Joel delivers a swift slap to your pussy that sends your hips lurching forward for a moment before he laughs. 

Asshole, you think with a little rush of desire. But this absolute asshole is about to make you come, so you decide against saying anything of the sort.

“Mhm,” you say instead. “Need you to use me and fuck yourself better, daddy.” Joel nearly snarls at the nickname leaving your mouth, starting to undo his belt as he lowers his head in between your legs. One hand is gripping onto your thigh while the other steadily works to free his cock from his pants, palming it tightly as his mouth licks a long strip up your pussy. His fingers dip inside of you gathering up your arousal before he brings it down to his cock, spreading it along the lengthy shaft. He moans into your cunt as he licks, beginning to stroke himself as he tastes you. 

You’ve never been treated like this before, like Joel is a man hungry for his last meal as he ravenously slurps and licks up every bit of arousal that keeps pouring out for him. His enthusiastic yet gruff reactions and noises start a vicious cycle - you’re so turned on by it that you’re getting impossibly wet, and in turn, Joel laps it up like he’s never tasted anything better in his life. It brings you close to the brink faster than you’d expected, another high quickly building low in your stomach. The tingling sensation starts to overtake every one of your senses and you let out a moan low and deep from your throat.

“Oh, Joel, p-please, I’m so close…” you murmur, your head rolling wildly on the desk as his tongue flicks on your clit and then sucks for a few pulses. “Daddy…” you whimper, and the guttural noise he makes is indescribable before he pulls off of you completely. You cry out, feeling tears start to form in your eyes at the injustice he’s been serving on your pussy tonight.

“Let daddy play with you a bit, it’s half the fun,” he says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice, and it instantly adds to your frustration just how much he’s getting off on this. The sound of his hand slapping against his own flesh comes and goes, and he seems to be bringing himself close to climaxing along with you.

He brings you back to the edge again moments later with just the lightest flicks of his tongue right on your clit, and as he senses your entire body tensing he stops again, leaving a desperate moan to die out in your throat as you’d nearly reached the throes of ecstasy again.

“Please… I’m begging you, it’s too much, Joel,” you whine. Your whole body is starting to tremble, your hips squirming along the surface of your desk from the throbbing of your swollen, aching heat just wanting him to give you release.

“Little longer, babydoll, be a good girl and keep begging me,” Joel replies.

“Please, let me come, I’ll do anything,” you say, your frown deepening despite the way that you’re also getting off on this, maybe just as much as him. You’ve never had someone give you so much careful, specialized attention like this - taking the time to make you feel this insanely turned on and desperate for them. 

Joel puts his face between your legs again while you let whispers of your continued begging along with his name pass your lips over and over until he edges you one more time and you nearly scream, letting out a choked back moan for him instead.

“Music to my ears,” Joel chuckles, and you breathe heavily, then peer down at him with your slick covering his face from the way he’s been indulging himself repeatedly on your pussy and you feel yourself clenching, nearly reaching your climax from the sight of him like that alone.

You nearly feel like passing out at this point, your breathing so erratic and body so overstimulated that you nearly can’t take it anymore when Joel returns to his former position, but this time inserting two fingers, stretching you as he scissors them apart while his tongue works on your clit. You cry out a furious whimper, your body bordering on madness as you feel Joel push deep inside of you with his fingers before pressing right on the perfect, spongy part inside that has your eyes rolling back.

“H-holy shit,” you blurt out, the tension coiling deep in your belly quickly as Joel presses over and over while he works his tongue on your abused clit. His other hand pushes down low on your belly, only increasing the sensation of everything and you’re panting, wild, incorrigible sounds flying out of your mouth.

“Don’t stop, please, please, don’t… let me come this time, I can’t take it anymore,” you manage to say as your body tumbles towards a cliff, your insides clawing for release and escape from this heavenly torture he’s put putting you through. Joel doesn’t stop this time, but intensifies everything - his fingers, his mouth, his warm, large palm pushing down on the bottom of your stomach.

You scream over and over, barely registering the sheer volume of the sound leaving your mouth as you gush and spasm onto him, the tether to reality snapping as you're transported to another place for a few moments, your vision going dark as you squeeze your eyes shut in pure bliss. You’re coming so hard that it seems like it’s never ending, sloppy, wet noises filling the room along with your little sobs. A sudden gush escapes you in the midst of everything, and when you finally come down, only then do you realize the reason everything felt so unreal for a moment, so much.

You can feel the excess wetness on your dress, all over the desk underneath you, and you nearly die with embarrassment at how much of a mess you’ve made because of this man, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind one bit, sliding you forward and wrapping his arms underneath your back, sitting you up and pulling you to your feet. You sway dazedly in your current state, practically useless to speak, think, or move, but Joel seems to be covering those bases for the two of you.

He swings your body in his grip, slamming your back against a nearby tall cabinet full of files that you’d spend hours helping organize, but you tear your mind away from the droll thought and back to Joel, whose cock is now pressing against your slick folds as he lifts one of your legs and hooks under your knee, holding it up.

“Fuckin’ filthy girl for me aren’t you? Squirting all over the place… like the way I make you come, don’t you?”

“Fuck yes, I do. S-so- so good,” you reply, hips bucking forward towards his cock despite the oversensitivity now raging there. He pushes in with one swift stroke, burying himself deep and you yelp at the sudden stretch. You’ve been warmed up plenty, but the sheer size of Joel is still enough to cause a sharp moment of discomfort before your body adjusts.

“I know, c’mon babydoll, you can take it. Want to make me feel good, don’t you?” Joel coos, his voice a little gentler now, urging you along. 

You nod enthusiastically for him, grinding forward to take the last bit of him into you until he’s fully seated. He grins wildly, his eyes flashing intensely as he starts to fuck you in earnest, snapping his hips into yours quickly.

“That’s a good girl for me,” he praises as you continue to take his cock over and over, and you’re so full, you can feel everything - him throbbing against your walls as he slides in and out.

“So f-fucking full of you, Joel,” you murmur as you flutter your eyes. 

“That’s right, babydoll, y’like my big cock using your little pussy, like it when I fill you up,” he grunts as his breath starts wavering more. Your own body is trembling, another climax building right where Joel’s cock is slamming into you each time he pushes in again. 

“Yes, Joel, fill me up today. Don’t pull out,” you beg.

Joel groans loudly, and you feel a rush of satisfaction at the way your words hold so much power over him. You can feel how you drive him wild, in and out of your own private world in his office. The way he steals glances at you, ogles your short skirts and dresses, the cleavage that you show for him, down to right now, when simply telling him to come inside of you has him practically spasming.

“Want me to fill you up with daddy’s come, that it? Like the little slut for me you are,” Joel retorts, his movements more sporadic now as he chases his own climax. 

“Only if it’ll help your day get better, Mr. Miller,” you tease with eyelashes fluttering, and Joel lets out a strangled little chuckle, his eyes completely glazed over with lust as you look into them. 

“Fuckin’ kiddin’ me, sugar, ‘course it would,” he says simply, letting out a little moan as he feels you squeeze around him slightly as he brushes against your walls over and over.

“Then do it, fill me up, daddy,” you say, and Joel doesn’t need to hear anything more, can’t hear anything more as he thrusts deeply into you and you gasp, feeling him come and fill you up so deeply. You milk every bit of it out of him, feeling your own climax overtake you unexpectedly at the pure power trip you’ve gotten from making him come this hard. You shudder into his cock still inside of you, your own white creaminess coating his shaft along with his cum and you let out a breathy moan at the sight of it pulling out of you a few moments later. 

“Sure made a mess, bad little girl,” Joel sucks his tongue between his teeth a few times, chastising you. “Half a mind to make you clean all this up.” He shakes his head as he steps away, but you just smile bashfully at him, still leaning against the cabinet, dripping pussy and tits still falling out of your dress. 

“Really gonna ask that from me after all I did for you tonight, baby?” you ask him with a saccharine smile, your voice dripping honey like off your tongue. 

“Lookin’ like that? No way in hell. You just stand there pretty and let me get a good look at ya all fucked out like that f’me,” Joel replies, tucking himself back into his pants. 

You spy your underwear on the ground, and as Joel follows your eyeline he swipes them off the floor, but tucks them in his back pocket again instead of handing them over to you. After the second time, you can see this is one of his things, and take a mental note to buy some more panties.

“Need to do this more often, don’t we?” Joel asks as he settles back into his office chair, groaning a little as he goes down. 

“Absolutely,” you grin. 

#barking ferally for boss!joel this has turned into an obsession my friends #fic: new addiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #fic: boss!joel

[ghouljams]

This time of year is prime time for bonfires in the south!! Just had one the other night and tried to scare some of my friends with some spooky stories and can’t stop thinking about trying (and failing) to do this to cowboy ghost hahahaha

Bonfires are my favorite! My family is full of pyromaniacs and our bonfires have gotten the fire department called numerous times. Once someone thought a house was on fire, very fun. Let's do more drunk cowboy fun, pre-"I want you to have my babies".

Birdie swings you around in front of the bonfire, the tiny tinny speaker playing some swinging murder ballad you think would really be more appropriate without your boyfriends around. You giggle as she holds her arm up to spin you before pulling you in close again.

“Wait, wait,” You laugh as you stumble, “Bird, I’m in deep I can’t-” You laugh more feeling her let you go to wiggle her shoulders at you. She turns to hold her hands out to Gaz.

“Come on quiet boy, you don’t got the spins, do ya?” She wiggles her fingers, pulling Gaz up out of his folding chair to dance. You take the opportunity to join Simon over by the folding table turned makeshift bar. 

“Made that happen once,” Simon is telling Moon, he holds his thumbs out and turns them with a pop noise, “blind, easy as you like.”

“Gross,” Moon says, without a hint of disgust. You reach between them to pour two shots of crystal moonshine, and slide one to Simon. You position yourself so Moon can’t see him tug his mask down and take the shot with you. The burn of it makes your throat itch something fierce, you can’t imagine it’s any better for him.

“You know you don’t have to keep up with me,” You tell him. Simon reaches for the canned peaches and spears one with the provided fork.

“You think I can’t?” He asks, popping the golden fruit in his mouth as a chaser before pulling his mask back into position.

“Didn’t say that.” Truth be told, the only reason you’re drinking so much is because he’s following you. Because every time you pour a shot you get to see his face again. Simon’s hands grip your thighs, pulling you between his legs. The heat of the bonfire on your back doesn’t have anything on the heat from Simon’s eyes as he looks up at you from his seat. “You having fun, Cowboy?” You ask, cupping his cheek.

“I’m having fun,” He hums.

“You gonna throw up?” Simon snorts, batting your hand away.

“I haven’t thrown up since I was 19, Moon’s shite liquor isn’t about to change that.”

“You don’t have to drink it,” Moon gripes from the other side of the table, “Ungrateful bastard.”

Simon rolls his eyes, you smile a little to yourself. It’s nice seeing him out of his shell. The fire flares loudly behind you. The rush of heat making Simon lean to peak around you at the blaze.

“Where the fuck did he get that?”

You turn to look and- You think maybe you shouldn't have told Soap to "go wild" with the bonfire. He's got a super soaker full of something, smells like lighter fluid, that he’s spraying on the fire to coax it bigger. As if he hadn’t loaded the thing with enough pallets and kindling to melt glass. All in all, very impressive, you think. You wonder how long it'll be 'til someone reports it.

“Get that away from him before he sets himself on fire.” You tell Simon, who’s already standing up to do just that.

You steal his seat, watching with Moon as your two professional killers wrestle for the rainbow water gun. Soap’s indignant shouts are almost as funny as watching Gaz jump on his back to try and give Simon the upperhand. They fight like kids, you hope it’s the alcohol that’s making them uncoordinated. You're not sure Gaz even knows what they're supposed to be fighting over, rolling in the grass and trying to grapple Soap as Simon looks for an angle to grab the soaker. Birdie cheers excitedly from the sidelines as Simon finally yanks the gun from Soap’s hands and is almost immediately tackled by both sergeants.

"Bunch of idiots," Moon mumbles, but you can see her smile.

"Your idiot started it," You tell her, watching Simon push at Soap's grinning face as Gaz tries to put him in a headlock.

"You think Birdie's gonna jump in?" You both watch her bouncing too close to the struggle, too excited to be just cheering it on.

"Probably."

#oc: Goose #oc: Moon #oc: Birdie #cowboy!Ghost #cowboy!Soap #cowboy!Gaz #x reader #god I love bonfires #Soap's bonfire and super soaker are directly taken from lived experiences #the sort of bonfire you gotta stand 6 ft away from #toasting marshmallows on just the heat it's putting off #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #cod fic #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you come home tipsy and jungkook is upset.

> fluff, angst / wc: 3k

> warnings: well we have alcohol of course

note: we already got happy drunk, now let’s get to the sad drunk :P

this is like a prologue to this drabble ^^

—

you stumble into your doorstep with a shaky vision and exhausted knees, slotting your key into the doorknob only to realize that the door is already open.

“i’m sure i locked it though?” you mutter to yourself quietly, shaking your head in a frail attempt to refresh your memories from two hours ago. but the two bottles of peach soju you drank and the bitter tears you shed have clouded all of your senses, and no images prior from before appear in your mind.

you just decide to brush it off, entering your apartment and making sure to double lock the door this time around. you take off your shoes and leave it on the doormat, too tired and tipsy to place it back on the shoe rack.

you enter the living room to see the last person you would’ve expected to come this late at night, and you tumble backwards in surprise.

“god, baby, where the fuck have you been?” jungkook exclaims in distress, quickly rushing over to you from the couch.

“why are you here?” you ask, dumbfounded as he pulls you in for a bone crushing hug. your arms remain on your sides, too lost and dazed to do anything but to stay rooted at your spot on the wooden floor.

“you haven’t answered any of my texts and calls for the past day. and your location was turned off. i was worried sick. what was i supposed to do?!” he answers frustratedly, running his fingers through his messy hair. you look up at him to observe his face- dull doe eyes, knitted eyebrows, lips forming a frown.

you feel your heart being squeezed inside your ribcage.

“you’re still mad at me.” you form your conclusion. the alcohol in your system leaves you more vulnerable, and your lips quiver as hot tears start to pour from your eyes for the third time tonight.

his face softens at the sight of your tear-stained face. you don’t need to tell him that you drank alcohol either. he can even smell it, especially from the front of your shirt where drops of it spilled from the careless shots you poured down your throat.

“come here.” he beckons you calmly, guiding you to the spot he previously occupied on the couch. you follow him idly.

he sits next to you and brings out a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away your tears, but his tenderness only fuels the urge to cry harder.

“why did you drink? baby, it’s past 2am now.” he sighs deeply, scooting closer to leave no space between the two of you. god knows the past day away from you has been torturous enough. “it’s dangerous out on the streets. something bad could’ve happened and i wouldn’t have been there to protect you.”

“i made you more upset now, didn’t i? i’m sorry.” your forehead drops on his shoulder, delicate hands grasping at the material of his oversized shirt.

“i’m sorry.” you repeat yourself to express the severity of your regrets. “i’m a coward. all i do is run away from things i’m afraid of. i’m sorry.”

he feels your tears soak through the cloth covering his torso, but he doesn’t mind it one bit. what bothers him most, however, is you apologizing to him profusely. he has realized how big of an asshole he has been, and now he feels like utter shit for putting you through this.

you recently got into argument about meeting jungkook’s parents. you’ve been avoiding it for the past months, and he has finally caught on and confronted you about it. sensing your transparent hesitation made him feel as though you aren’t as serious in committing in this relationship like you claimed to be- made him feel like a fool for being the only one willing to take the steps necessary in bringing the relationship to a new level. in the end, he questioned your feelings for him and in turn, he got ridiculously defensive.

holding your weeping vessel, it dawns on him how he has failed to look at the circumstances from your point-of-view. he has been self-centered and selfish, inconsiderate of your feelings. he kept on demanding and demanding, and he got upset like a spoiled little brat when he didn’t get what he wanted right away.

of course, you’re afraid. of course, you are. what a useless boyfriend he has been for not noticing right off the bat.

you pull away to look at him with pleading eyes, sniffling as you do so. and his heart breaks at the sight; seeing you cry because of him makes him want to beat himself up.

“i love you. i do, i really do. you know that right? it’s just that- i’m scared that they won’t like me. i’m not good with parents.” you babble aimlessly, grasping at the chance to speak out your mind as if it may slip away at any given second. “i had to grow up on my own and i-i don’t know what’s it like. i don’t know anything. i don’t know what to do. i’m just so scared of disappointing you, but it looks like i already did becau-”

“stop, stop. baby, shhh, that’s enough.” he hushes you, manhandling your figure onto his lap to calm you down.

he cocoons you into a tight embrace, rubbing your back comfortingly as he whispers, “shh, i love you too. i’m not upset anymore, okay? i understand now. i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. i should’ve let you talk the other day instead of storming out. i was too childish and immature.”

“what i’m trying to say is,” you shake your head repeatedly. “i don’t think i’m a person i could be proud of infront of your parents. you’re too good for me.”

you finally voice out the thought that has been feeding off your fears, baring your innermost self to your boyfriend.

you feel ashamed to say the least. you’re a hundred percent sure his parents are lovely. he tells you heartwarming stories about them all the time, and he casually mentions them during the most random moments. an example is when he teaches you how to do something, and he always goes my mom told me . . . or my dad used to do it like this . . . and even only through those unconscious utterances, you learn the immeasurable amount of adoration that fills up the space in his heart.

they raised him well, gave him nothing but love and trust and respect. and it evidently shows in jungkook’s each stride, the confidence he got from being supported by his parents in his decision to fly away from the nest and to pursue his passions. in his playful smiles, the unadulterated joy he carried from his childhood up to adulthood. in his polite bows, the good values and virtues he either learned or unconsciously picked up.

you came to realize the one thing that you have in common with his parents: the three of you only want the best for jungkook. that’s what makes it terrifying.

you feel . . . what’s the word?

inadequate.

so what do you do? you run. you nod and smile when he brings up meeting them soon. you pretend you’re busy when he tries setting up the date. and as embarrassing as it sounds, you silently pray that he just forgets about all about it.

he tilts up your chin with two fingers to look at your eyes, and you see that his frown is deeper from before. “i should say this more often, but i’m so proud of you. that’s why i always talk about you with my family and friends. but it just doesn’t feel enough sometimes, you know? because i can’t properly put into words how amazing you are.”

his thumbs brush away the tears on your cheeks before pressing kisses on your face, his plush lips puckering up to shower you with affection.

his warm breath ghosts over your skin, and you smell the familiar scent of mint he puts in his mouth when driving. “you won’t disappoint me. or anyone. never. most of the time you’re too busy making up for the things you think you’re lacking in, that you forget to take a step back for a minute to look at what you’ve accomplished so far.”

“my baby, i wish you could see yourself the way i see you.” he looks at you lovingly, the sparkle of his doe eyes making an appearance for the first time tonight. the beautiful sight, along with his consoling words, make you want to burst into tears once again. “you say you grew up on your own as if you turned out to be a bad person, but you grew up so well. you’re the kindest and strongest person i’ve ever known.”

“you’ve been walking on a road that you pave as you go. you must be having a hard time, aren’t you?” he offers you a fond smile, caressing your head gently with his tattooed hand.

more of your tears spill down as you nod your head, leaning further into his soothing touches. god knows how much you’ve been craving to hear these words from someone, anyone- just to be seen and acknowledged, to feel less lonely and meaningless.

“but you don’t have to carry the world on your shoulders anymore. you have me now, hmm? i’m right by your side. and my family welcomes you with open arms, too. they’re not going anywhere, so we can go meet them when you’re ready, okay?”

true enough, jungkook’s words are magic.

you feel significantly lighter after hearing his unsparing comfort, in contrast to the last time he spoke to you. you haven’t been able to sleep— the moving image of a distraught jungkook asking if you truly want him in your life the way that he wants you in his, then him slamming the door shut when you couldn’t answer right away- it haunted you every time you closed your eyes.

you haven’t charged your phone because you wanted some space to think, and you drank alcohol because you couldn’t sleep from the thinking.

being in jungkook’s arms, the worries clouding your head are shooed away by him, and the drowsiness finally takes over as the veil you’ve been desperately waiting for.

you manage to offer him a half-smile through your hazy state.

“i love you so much. you know that, right?”

he catches on to the uneasiness in your voice, and he jumps in to clear up the uncertainty he has caused. “i know, and i love you, too. i’m sorry for everything that i did. i was just being greedy. you always make me feel loved and cared for, so please, please, don’t think that you’re not doing enough. if anything, you probably spoil me too much.”

another apology sits at the tip of your tongue, but you swallow it down. it’s best to just put this matter behind you in this note, so instead, you wrap your arms around jungkook’s neck to be the one to hug him this time.

you bask in the silence for a while. you can only hear the occasional zooming of vehicles taking advantage of the almost deserted highway, his rhythmic breathing, and your sniffles.

with a pounding headache intensifying in your temples, you almost fall asleep then and there, but then you wake up when he starts bouncing his legs up and down. “don’t fall asleep on me yet. let’s get you hydrated before going to bed.”

a whine bubbles in your throat at the sudden movements, weakly clinging to him as he carries you to the kitchen. he leaves you on the counter top to grab a bottle of water from your small fridge.

“where did you drink soju?” he asks as you drink big gulps of water. he has a hand on his waist and the other is anchored on the edge of the counter top beside you.

you briefly detach the bottle from your lips. “at the convenience store. you think i’d go to the bar in pajamas?”

he shrugs with a chuckle, shaking his head. “who knows? you’re more spontaneous than you realize.”

and then he turns serious to bring up the reason why he asked. “don’t go outside alone past 11pm from now on, please? whatever happens, call me or one of your friends so i’m sure you’re safe. especially if you’re going to drink. i was really worried out of my mind earlier.”

you nod your head obediently, swinging your legs back and forth. “okay, i promise. i won’t make you cry again.”

he huffs, taking a step forward to pull you in for another embrace. “i almost did cry. i thought something bad happened to you. i had to call your friends, too. they said you probably went out to buy alcohol. they just ended up scaring me more instead of helping.”

damn, being apart from you for more than a day because of an argument made him realize how clingy he truly is.

“they know me too well.” the freshly learned information makes you giggle. “i’m sorry, baby. i’ll just drink with them next time so i’m not alone. i promise.”

he grunts in disagreement, pulling away for you to see his lips forming a pout. “there is no next time. i won’t let us have another argument like this. it’s unbearable.”

oh, jungkook, your sweetest boy.

“that would be nice.” you respond with a soft voice.

he kisses your cheek before tapping your thigh lightly, urging you to move. “let’s go brush your teeth then so we can sleep.”

your face visibly lights up like a christmas tree. “you’re staying?”

he rolls his eyes as if you just asked him what one plus one is. “of course i am. i never want to be away from you again.”

“yay!” you rejoice, but your voice comes out small. unfortunately, your throat has been having a hard time with all the alcohol and the crying.

you hop off the counter only to end up almost falling on your ass, your knees being too weak and unstable to keep you steady on your feet. giving credits to jungkook’s incredible reflex, he catches you faster than you can blink.

“oopsie.”

“shit- baby! be careful.” he hisses, adjusting his hold on you.

he ends up carrying you to the bathroom, and you brush your teeth together.

fun fact: jungkook has already changed the toothbrush he uses at your houses three times.

once you’re both finished, you climb on his back for your transport to the bedroom.

“jungkook? you’re a tree.” you state out of the blue, leaning your cheek against his as he walks outside of the bathroom.

“a tree? why?” he asks curiously.

“you’re very fun to climb.”

the sound of his laughter echoes through your apartment. his body shakes as a result, and you hold onto him for your dear life.

“you’re extra honest when drunk, huh?”

“nuh-uh.” you tut. “not drunk, just tipsy. i’m worse when i’m drunk for real.”

“oh really?”

he carefully bends down by the edge of the bed to let you get off his back, and you automatically crawl to your soft pillows. a yawn escapes you when your head sinks into them, and loyal to your habits, you cover your mouth as you let it pass.

“babe, wait- let’s change your shirt first.”

you groan, forcing yourself to sit up on the bed. jungkook holds the bottom of your shirt, and you raise your arms as he takes it off. he helps you put on the new one, bunching up the sleeves so it’s easier for your arms to slip through the armholes. you drop back into your previous position on the pillows right after.

jungkook lays next to you after turning off the lights and taking off his clothes except for his boxers. without needing to say the word, you both move to allow your head rest on his tattooed arm instead. his natural body warmth coaxes your tense muscles to relax, and you slip deeper into sheer contentment as you put an arm over his stomach.

“goodnight, baby.” he whispers sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

a lazy smile spreads on his lips when he doesn’t receive a response. you fell asleep as soon as you settled into your usual sleeping position with him, and he feels a lone tear from your drowsiness drip on his chest.

he bends down and cups your cheek in his hand, softly pressing his lips against yours. he just lets them touch for a few seconds, before he spontenously decides to pucker up his without pulling away, giving you a hundred (almost) loud kisses in a row.

he backs away to observe you again, but you remain asleep even after he has poured all his love on you. he chuckles in amusement, restless fingers tracing your features until they reach your puffy eyes.

sadness blossoms in his chest when he is reminded once again that he is the reason why you are so tired. he swallows thickly, promising both you and him that he will make it up to you starting the second that he wakes up in the morning- from making you a delicious breakfast in bed to doing whatever it is that you want to do.

hell, if you suddenly ask for a vacation in antartica, he would book the flights in a heartbeat.

his doe eyes comically wander to his phone laying on the nightstand. “fuck, should i?”

—

taglist! @lolalee24 @alanniys @jjkeverlast @queenofdragonsandcats @yvesismywife @enhypenslay @cramseys @witchfqllen @virgogentlejk @rkie @jeonwiixard @monilyv @bermudaisy @ameliejeannelaurent @takochelle @the1921-monsters @investedreader @seagulljk @yeow6n @yoonqkiss @hopeworldjimin + send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts reaction #bts fluff #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts smut

[nctsplug02]

hello! can u do mrs jeong is pregnant with their 2nd child and jaehyun has a pregnancy kink.. so he is kind of obsessed on having pregnant sex and curious of what breast milk taste like.. THANK U !!!! 😙

Special Kind Of Milk jeong.j

GENRE: fluff and suggestive

WARNINGS: mentions of drinking breast milk (the whole topic of this one-shot), breeding kink, pregnancy kink, reader is honestly a moody bitch, and kissing.

“shit.” jaehyun says as soon as he walks into the bedroom with a brown paper bag in his hand. “you didn’t want the chopped beef— you wanted bacon.” you sigh at jaehyuns obvious confession.

you reach your hand out for the bag but jaehyun hesitates. “babe, it’s fine. you forgot that baby changed my cravings. it’s okay, i’ll still eat it— gimmie.” your fingers turn into grabby fingers but jaehyun still refuses.

“i don’t want you to get mad because i messed up your order.” he hugs the bag to his chest. “well, i’m gonna get mad if you don’t just give me the damn bag, jaehyun.” jaehyun quickly hands you the bag and steps back when feeling your glare sharpen.

“thank you for canceling a meeting to get me this burrito.” jaehyun tenses up, again. “right,” he gulps and you look up from the bag. “a burrito.” he slowly nods and you frown, pulling out the short cylinder shaped item wrapped in foil.

your pregnancy hormones hit and then you’re tearing up. “a burger? babe, i asked for a burrito.” jaehyun quickly sits by your legs and cups your face. “i’m sorry, i forgot. i—i can go run and exchange it—?” you shake your head, unwrapping the burger that smelled delicious.

“it’s fine. it’s all good and i’m.. hungry, so i’ll eat it.” you shake your head side to side before taking a bite. “baby,” jaehyun softly laughs and wipes your cheeks. “don’t cry, im sorry.” you shake your head and chew.

“it’s fine— god, why am i like this?” you talk with your mouth full as you well up. “don’t say that, baby—?” you cut jaehyun off. “no, jaehyun! i’m so tired of being moody and bitchy all day. it’s exhausting. just carrying around this negativity is so tiring.”

“baby—?” you wail making him flinch back. “ask me, jaehyun. ask me why i’m so moody.” he hesitates but asks anyways. “why.. are you so moody, baby?”

you look up with a heavy glare. “because of you.” hes taken aback by your answer. “what?” jaehyun questions. “you got me knocked up and now i can’t stop bitching and crying like a fucking baby. do you know how tiring it is to carry around this negativity? right, you don’t because you aren’t pregnant!”

you lean against jaehyuns palms as he brings them up to your cheeks and wipes your tears away. “mrs jeong, are you—?” jen walks in with hannie on her hips. “nows not a good time, jen.” jaehyun says without turning his head. “yes, i’m sorry.” she closes the door and leaves without another word.

“don’t cry, okay? i’ll order it this time, yeah? here,” he takes the burger and wraps it back up. “let’s put this one away and then we can get you your bacon burrito, yeah?” you nod, sitting back with soft hiccups.

that mental breakdown was several months ago. yes, it was super stupid to cry over. yes, jaehyun got you your burrito. and lastly, yes, you had the baby.

“hun,” it was currently two in the morning and the baby had woken you and jaehyun up. baby was hungry and cranky but, your nipples ached like a bitch.

jaehyun lifts his head off the pillow. “yeah, love?” he answers in a tired tone. “can you make him a bottle downstairs? there should be some frozen packs of breast milk in the freezer— heat it up in boiling water and before you pour it into his bottle— test it to make sure it isn’t too cold or too hot. please and thank you.”

jaehyun gets up without protesting or any complaints and walks down to the kitchen.

he opens the freezer and pulls out a container that held frozen packs of breast milk. each of them labeled with dates. jaehyun closes the fridge and grabs a pot from the pots and pans drawer. he fills it up with water before boiling it.

jaehyun slightly falls asleep while waiting for the packet to boil. the machine that jaehyun wanted to melt the breast milk would’ve worked well, too but, you insisted on just using boil water to save money.

jaehyun opens the packet and pours a small bit into a cup. he dumps the breast milk down his throat and releases a hiss. he smacks his lips together and moves his mouth and tongue in weird ways.

“hm.” he holds up the packet and looks behind him before pouring some into his mouth. jaehyun smacks the tongue against the roof of his mouth and hums, again.

jaehyun shakes his head and grabs a fresh clean bottle from the bottle rack and pours the rest into the bottle. his eyebrows raise when seeing where it filled. it was near the number three.

before jaehyun brings the bottle up to you, he opens the freezer and grabs another pack, dunking it in the boiling water and waiting for it to unfreeze.

after a few minutes, jaehyun pours the milk into a cup and goes upstairs with his hands both occupied. one with the bottle for the boy and a cup filled with milk for jaehyun.

“uch, finally.” you sigh grabbing the bottle from jaehyun. “milk? since when do we have milk?” jaehyun softly smiles while holding the glass to his bottom lip. “it’s a special kind of milk.”

finally, it hits you.

“jaehyun, no. you did not?!” you shriek and jaehyun laughs. “i did and i’m not sorry. it tastes so good. here, try it—?” you shove the glass away as he attempts to share some with you. “what— jaehyun, no. you’re practically stealing his food.” you scolded and jaehyun frowns.

“and he stole you from me.” you scoff. “how? he’s just a baby— don’t accuse him of such thing!” you watch as the boy sucks the nipple of the bottle like crazy. “all your attention was on him from the start of the pregnancy.”

you roll your eyes, this man was going on about nothing! “dude, you act like we literally couldn’t go a week without having sex.” jaehyuns ears turn into a shade of pink as he continues to drink the milk.

“exactly— now, stop accusing my baby for nothing.” the boy fusses and spits out his bottle. “cmon, baby— he finished it.” you hold up the empty bottle. “jae, pour your milk into his bott—?” jaehyun hugs the cup to his chest with a gasp. “i will do no such thing.” you glare at the man. “don’t be ridiculous right now, jaehyun. i pumped that out for him so pour it—?”

“feed him your titties.” you roll your eyes with a sigh. “are you serious right now?” jaehyun gives the same look and nods. “dead serious.”

your tongue pokes your cheek as you lift your shirt, freeing your overly large breasts and letting the little man below you wrap his tiny lips around your nipple that ached in pain.

you wince and slump over, trying your best to ignore the swelling pain.

jaehyun feels jealousy slightly rage in his chest as he sets his cup down and removes the boy from your hold. “jaehyun, what are you—?” he lays in your lap and holds the boy against his chest before bringing his lips around your nipple.

this wasn’t like jaehyun. so, what was his deal?

“oh, my god. you’re so un-fucking-believable!” the boy in his arms starts to fuss. “you have your glass of milk— stop being so greedy!” you try to pry the man away from you as the boy in his arms starts to whine and cry.

oh, you were gonna kick his ass.

A/N: i know this isn’t like jaehyun but i was just writing what the anon wanted, so enjoy! i genuinely cringed while writing this HAHAH. but, overall happy readings, babies! love you guys, lots!

#ash talks #nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #kpop imagines #nctsplug02 #kpop fluff #nct 127 #anon #kpop smut #jung jaehyun imagines #nct jaehyun #jeong jaehyun fluff #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #jaehyun smut #nct dilf #nct dad au #jen the babysitter

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Modern au club steve?? Could be any vibe - chatting at the bar, dancing (subjectively) on the floor etc. etc. 💛💛

There wasn’t one guy in the club that was doing it for you.

In fact, you didn’t even really want to be there. It was too loud and the flashing lights were jarring, the dance floor too crowded and the scent of spilled tequila and sweat lingered in the hazy air. But you’d promised Nancy and Robin you’d make an effort and leave the house on a Saturday night.it was hardly their scene either, not really, but once the girls managed to let some sour shots slide down their throats, they found the music easier to dance to and their shared kisses certainly helped.

So you left them to move around each other on the dance floor, hands shy in public, just daring enough to wander onto each other's hips as they spun and laughed. It left you on the outskirts, where the suede couches lining the walls gave way to the platform that was a little darker than the rest of the club, where the bar curved around a ridiculous waterfall centrepiece. The lights were lower, deep pinks and reds over the crystal glasses, the optics that lined the wall.

You passed a guy named George on the way there, too handy and persistent, drinking expensive scotch and sneering when you said no for the fourth time. Then there was a redhead, broad and too quiet, barely hearing what kind of chat up line he was trying to feed you over the music. Someone else grabbed your ass, another spilled a frozen daiquiri down your bare leg, and by the time you reached the bar, you were ready to drink it dry.

It was quieter than the main bar, the one that sat by the DJ booth where no one got the drink they actually ordered because it was so loud. And once the small crowd before you had been swerved, a boy appeared in front of you on the other side of the marble counter, bathed in peach and pink lighting. He was handsome, fucking pretty, actually. All messy hair, a little wild, kind brown eyes and a little stubble along a strong jaw. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the top three buttons undone due to the sticky heat in the club. There was a glint of a chain at his collarbones, a smattering of hair that led down to his chest.

You swallowed, suddenly parched.

“You look like you’re ready to murder someone.”

You blinked, lips parting, ready to argue but you laughed instead, a sound swallowed by the music but the barman grinned at your smile. You nodded, leaning onto the bar, the cool surface nice against your overheated skin.

“Is the resting bitch face that bad?” You asked, leaning in a little so he could hear you. He smelled good, the woodsy, spicy scent of his cologne catching in the air as he moved closer too.

He shrugged, grinning, letting his gaze linger over your face, the small straps of your dress, the way the silky material dipped and draped low along your chest. “I wouldn’t say there was anything bad about it,” the barman twisted his lips, like he was trying to stop himself from smiling too much. “Besides, you fought a war trying to get over here. What can I get you?”

He had been watching you. You shifted on the barstool, thighs rubbing together, dress hitching upupup. Scanning the bottles behind the bar, you hummed, elbows pressed to the marble so you could push your tits together, testing the waters. His gaze dropped and you grinned, tongue caught between your teeth.

“Could I bother you for a whiskey sour?” You asked kindly, already fishing for your purse.

“You certainly can,” he replied, reaching for the bourbon and the shaker.

He watched you as you watched him, arms flexing and the lines of muscle in his forearms rippling as he shook the metal container, the clang of ice inaudible under the bass and drums. There was a buzz as he poured out your drink for you, wide hands and thick fingers pushing the glass across the counter to you. And when you tried to hand him a folded bill, he smiled and shook his head.

You beamed, leaning closer still to read his name tag in the low light.

“Thank you, Steve.”

He smirked back, ignoring the other customers who were lined up and waiting, arms crossed and pressed to the marble. “You’re welcome…?” He trailed off, waiting for you to give him a name.

But you took a sip of your drink instead, the foam top fizzing on your tongue and you hummed at the taste, sweet and sour. You licked your lips, sucked the tip of your thumb to get rid of the sticky bourbon and tried not to look too pleased when Steve’s gaze followed the movement.

“When do you get off?” You asked him instead.

“Twenty minutes,” came his swift reply. “Sooner, if you’d like.”

You nodded, smiling sweetly, a hand wrapping around the frosted glass. “I’ll tell you then.”

….

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfiction #steve baby blurb

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 19: In the Bleak Midwinter

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess x OC

Summary: Tatiana wants to show them something.

Word Count: 6,988

Notes: Warnings for depictions of smut, including a threesome and choking.

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

Previous Part • Next Part

Chapter 21: The Ghost

They wound up in an ornate room, surrounded by people fucking.

Lively music was being played by a group of musicians set up near one wall. Tatiana led them through the room, weaving past naked, writhing bodies to an unoccupied couch. She gestured for Tommy to sit, and he slumped down into it, grabbing a glass of whiskey from the table and leaning into one corner of the chaise. 

Before Lucy could move towards him, Tatiana darted forward, cutting her off and sidling into the spot beside him, resting half atop his chest and half against his side with her legs curled up next to her, leaving next to no room left on the couch. Lucy blinked, taken aback. Her nails bit into her palms as she fought to keep her annoyance wiped off her face. The smirk Tatiana shot her was just proof she was only trying to get a rise out of her. 

The Russian was still on thin ice in Lucy’s mind after what she’d done to Arthur. She may be working with them, far closer than any of the other members of her family, but that didn’t mean Lucy had to like her.

It did, however, mean that they needed to play nice. It would be disastrous to get on her bad side this far along into the plan. 

Lucy sighed, stepping around the table in front of the chaise, eyes fixed on the space on the floor in front of Tommy’s legs. No point in trying to force Tatiana to move.  

Tommy’s brow creased, clearly taking note of the action as well. His jaw ticked, and when she took a step closer he sat up, coiling the arm not holding his drink around her waist.  

“I can just sit on the floor…” she started, even as she let him draw her in closer. 

“The hell you are,” Tommy grumbled under his breath, pulling her into his lap. She wound up seated across his thighs, legs spread out atop Tatiana’s, and her back resting on the armrest of the couch. Grabbing a drink from a passing waiter, she hooked an arm around Tommy’s shoulders for stability while he leaned back, getting situated with one arm sliding around Tatiana, and the other, still holding his glass, around Lucy. She sighed contentedly, head lolling against his shoulder. If Tatiana was annoyed at Tommy’s solution to their lack of space, she didn’t show it. If anything, she looked mildly amused, balancing a wine glass brought to her by a waiter in one hand and a cigarette in the other. 

Around them, it was madness. John was dancing with two other men near the musicians, the three of them tumbling to the floor with laughter. Behind her, Tommy downed his glass of whiskey. She took it from him, leaning forward to grab the bottle on the table and pour him another, taking the opportunity to refill her own glass too. His fingers circled along her shoulder as she did, sending shivers along her spine. The sounds and smell of sex around them was making her light headed. It was hard to know where to look. Just about everywhere, there were people in various positions of debauchery. 

“I’ve never been to an orgy before,” she said softly, drinking deeply from her glass. The closest she’d come had been a foursome with Tommy and two girls after the Garrison reopened. Tommy turned his head, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her neck that made her shiver. She craned her head up to look at him. “Is it impolite to stare?”

He raised his eyes away from where they’d been fixed on her pulse point to sweep his deep blue gaze across the room. He shrugged.

“They’re out here, in the open…” he wetted his lips. “Maybe they want to be watched,” his voice lowered huskily.

“Mm,” Lucy hummed, allowing herself to fully take in the scene around them. Naked skin and echoing moans. Laughter. 

It was loud and chaotic. The amount of sensory information to take in was overwhelming. Perhaps under other circumstances, she could have allowed herself to enjoy it. But not tonight. She was too on edge from what Tatiana had done earlier, and here, in this place, where they were surrounded by enemies, she could not find it in herself to fully relax. 

She drained another glass of whiskey and let Tommy refill it, pressing a kiss to his collarbone in thanks. He smelled nice, and she opened her mouth to ask him if he’d reapplied some of his expensive cologne between them leaving the treasury and coming here, but he chose that moment to skim his fingertips lightly along the curve of her breast. All of the whiskey–too much, she’d probably already had far too much–had addled her brain. 

“I think I’m drunk,” she whispered into his ear, burrowing against him. 

“Mm,” he kissed her curls. “Me too,” he coaxed her closer to his chest. “It’s okay.”

She nodded. Drunk or not, Tommy would never let anything bad happen to her.   

From across the room, she spotted a maid taking Arthur by the hand, pulling him to his feet and leading him away.     

“Looks like Arthur found himself a maid,” Lucy mumbled, lips grazing the underside of Tommy’s jaw when she tilted her head up to look at him. He just hummed in acknowledgement. He felt tense beneath her, be it from the activities of the day, Tatiana still curled into his side, or just general stress, she couldn’t be sure. Leaning back deeper against him, she nuzzled at his throat, and he let out a small breath, chest relaxing ever so slightly with it. 

���My aunt only employs the best whores,” Tatiana sat up, leaning away slightly to look at them properly. Tommy tilted his head back, bringing his cigarette to his lips. Lucy ignored the duchess, continuing to snuggle into Tommy’s neck, trying to soothe him. He closed his eyes, purring low in his chest to encourage her to keep going.

“How did you feel when I held him?” Tatiana asked. That had Lucy’s eyes snapping to her, jaw clenching around the words she would have liked to have spat in response to that little stunt Tatiana had pulled. “You were jealous,” she continued, before either of them could respond. Tommy’s brows furrowed, eyes opening and head lifting. “You wanted to kill me. Or him. No?”

“I think you’re overestimating how much we care about you, love,” Lucy said, and while she kept her voice light, from the way Tatiana’s eyes snapped to hers, and her smirk settled, she could tell she’d heard the intended bite beneath them.

Tommy brought his cigarette to his lips, slowly, as if to buy himself time to formulate his words in his mind before he spoke them.  

“Why do you play games with people when there is no benefit to you?” he asked, finally. Lucy’s eyes darted between them, gaging Tatiana’s reaction. It was a subtle slap, but a slap nonetheless. One that said, I see no use for you outside our business together. What good would my jealousy, or my anger, be to you, when there is nothing more between us?

Tatiana did not look hurt, rather there was something more relaxed, almost vulnerable, in her face. 

Lucy wondered if perhaps she found it refreshing that despite Tommy’s attraction, he still remained relatively unaffected by her. He was not interested in her games. Nor was he about to fall over himself to kiss her feet like Lucy imagined so many must have before him. And he would not fall in love with her. Even sex was but a simple transaction. 

It was just business. 

“In Russia, because we were bored. In England, because we don’t know how to stop.”

Lucy figured that might have been the most honest and genuine Tatiana had ever been with them. 

And then, the mask was back in place. “At least there are silly games and orgasms.”

Tommy blinked, slow. “So let’s fuck.”

Tatiana looked momentarily taken aback. “Here?”

Lucy shifted uncomfortably, the fine hairs on the back of her arms raising. The idea of being so exposed, with so many other people around…

Tommy glanced at her, hand landing on her hip and thumb rubbing circles into her skin, shaking his head. “No, in a darker place.”

She relaxed, shooting him a thankful look. Without a word, Tatiana stood, adjusting her shawl. She held out a hand, helping Lucy hop from Tommy’s lap. Her long fingers slid along the expanse of Lucy’s arm, smirking and fluttering her lashes at her before letting her go to take Tommy’s hand and pull him to his feet. He swiped the remaining bottle of whiskey as he rose and looped the arm, still holding the bottle, around Lucy’s shoulders. 

As they began to follow Tatiana out of the room, dodging the writhing bodies surrounding them, he glanced at her. You alright with this?

She shrugged. Blinked at him. We’ve already done this once with her before. 

The hand around her shoulders squeezed as they rounded a corner. He had to let her go when they came to a narrow doorway, following Tatiana through it with Lucy right behind him. Tatiana looked over her shoulder at them, mischievous smile in place, and took Tommy’s hand, beginning to drag him along through the narrow, ornate hallways.

Just as they got to another doorway, Tommy gave Tatiana a firm tug on her hand, turning her around and pulling her into his front, arms wrapping around her waist as he kissed her. Tatiana indulged him only for a moment before pulling away, unraveling her shawl from around her shoulders and leading the rest of the way into a dimly lit room. Tommy took a hefty swig from the bottle still held in his hand, offering it to Lucy once he was done. The liquid burned as she gulped it down, Tommy’s hand on her shoulder helping to nudge her the rest of the way into the room before he closed the door. 

In the fireplace, orange and yellow flames roared brightly. The room was decorated with deep red rugs. Candelabras, lit and unlit, were scattered about. Red candles flickered, the light they cast seductive and ominous. A table, lined with photos and candles, was pressed up against one wall, like an altar.  

Tommy half lunged at Tatiana, kissing her roughly and backing her into the wall with a thud. Lucy felt her heartbeat pick up as she watched them kiss and wrestle for control, the sounds of their heavy breathing and the wet smack of their lips against each other making her core flutter.

Taking a few wobbly steps forward, she plastered herself to Tommy’s back, arms wrapping around his middle and lips pressing to the nape of his neck. His breathing grew more labored, breaking his kiss with Tatiana to dip his head to nuzzle along her cleavage. Tatiana raised her dark eyes to Lucy, head tilting forward to peck her on the lips. When she pulled back, her expression was deathly serious. 

“You still love her, don’t you?”

It was like a bucket of cold water had been flung over their heads. Lucy jerked back and Tommy froze, both so shocked that they barely remembered how to breathe. 

So hard. They tried so hard not to think about her. Especially during moments like this.

Lucy’s eyes darted to the dark corners of the room, half expecting to see the ghost standing there, hands clasped in front of her, the light reflecting off of her golden hair while she watched them with sad blue eyes. 

But there was nothing in the corners but shadows. 

“You want her?” Tatiana didn’t back down from their shocked expressions. The question didn’t even sound accusatory, more just generally curious. 

A little sob broke from Lucy’s throat, and she clamped her jaws down tight around it, swallowing hard.

“Why would you fucking say that?” Tommy breathed out. His face twisted, trying to grab at Tatiana, but she pushed his hands away.

“Tommy,” Tatiana said, suddenly very gentle. “You love her,” when she tried to touch him again, he shoved her away, still snarling and sputtering in stunned horror at what she was asking them. 

“You want her?” Tatiana asked again, eyes darting between them. She looked at Lucy, expression softening while she reached out, lightly wiping away the tears that had started silently streaming down her cheeks.

The hole in her heart, where Grace has been, had never felt so open. Like it had been covered over only by a thin scab, and Tatiana’s words had ripped it right off, exposing the unhealed, bleeding wound to the world. She balled her hands into little fists, clutched them at her chest, the material of her shirt crinkling between her fingers while her elbows drew in tight. As if she could hold herself together.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” Tommy growled, suddenly shoving between them. Tatiana rounded on him, grabbing his face in her hands. Lucy tried hastily to wipe away at the tears still sliding down her cheeks.

“You want her?” Tatiana repeated, half taunting, half compassionate.

“Stop,” Lucy begged. Tommy shoved Tatiana’s hands away, seizing her face, still cursing quietly at her. But Lucy noticed something in the way his chest heaved, features shifting and contracting. He was fighting hard not to cry. 

“Stop it. Stop,” she tried again, this time attempting to shove her way between them, half worried they were about to come to blows. But rather than break them apart she instead wound up entangled in their twisted limbs, a hand grappled on each of them. Tommy fought against Tatiana for only a moment more, his attempts half hearted before his face crumpled 

“What are you fucking saying? What the fuck…”

A hoarse sob heaved from his chest. Lucy felt her features mirror his, like what last little strength she’d had relied on him, and as soon as he broke, her last bit of composure crumbled away. 

He dropped his forehead to rest on Tatiana’s chest. Lucy half collapsed into him, arm clinging to his shoulders while the other bunched in the delicate fabric at Tatiana’s back. Tatiana wrapped her arms around both of them with shocking, uncharacteristic tenderness, gently guiding the three of them to kneel on the floor. Lucy sobbed, burying her face in the crook of Tommy’s neck. His arm was around her, squeezing so tight it made it a little hard to breathe. 

The three of them knelt there, Tommy and Lucy crying softly into each other and the fine red material of Tatiana’s dress. She said nothing as she held them, the only sound in the room was their sobs and the crackles and pops from the fire.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Grace should have been the one holding them. But if Lucy closed her eyes, she could almost pretend…

Guilt over that made her feel so sick for a moment she thought she would actually vomit. 

Instead she burrowed herself deeper into Tommy’s neck, as if he could somehow protect her from the guilt and pain thrashing through her. 

Never coming back. She’s never coming back. We’re alone. And it’s all our fault, and it hurts. It hurts. Will it ever stop hurting? No, I don’t think it will, oh God…

She whimpered, trembling lips pressing together. Tatiana petted her hair gingerly.

It’s never going to stop. Never going to get better. She’s gone, so what’s the point? All there is left to do is keep digging, down, down, down. But it’s so dark and I’m so tired and I think I want to stop now but I don’t know how. What do I do if I don’t do this? It's all I know anymore. Are we even alive, or did they bury us with her? Are we back under the ground? I’m starting to think we never were up above it to begin with. Please, please, someone pull me up; I can’t breathe down here anymore–

Her tears had ceased, but she was still shaking, her mind slipping further and further down the dark tunnel it had fallen into. She was gripping Tommy so tightly it was a wonder he didn’t seem to be in pain over it. 

He was all she had left, now. Her anchor. Her only companion in the cold darkness under the ground.  

“You want her tonight?” Tatiana’s voice broke through the darkness, and Lucy opened the eyes she hadn’t even realized she’d closed, blinking and squinting against the light despite the dimness of the room. 

Tatiana pulled back, rising to her feet. Her eyes glimmered, and Lucy was taken by the sudden softness in her face when she cupped their faces. “Watch…” she started to push off her dress, letting it slide down her body to crumple in a puddle of red on the floor. Like a pool of blood at her feet. She was telling them about a priest she knew. “He would put his hands here,” she rested a hand each on their throats. Lucy fought the sudden desire to flinch away, the tickle of Tatiana’s cool fingers on her throat bringing with it a surge of anxiousness and bad memories. But Tatiana released her quickly, passing a hand carefully along her red curls.

“I will do him first, then you. Touch yourself while you watch, little one,” she proclaimed, voice still soft. “Like you would have with her.”

Wetting her lips, Lucy glanced at Tommy, nervous as Tatiana rested her second hand on his throat. He didn’t even flinch, and at Lucy’s questioning look he gave a practically indiscernible nod, to let her know he was alright with it.

Leaning back, she began to slowly unbutton her waistcoat, biting her lip while watching Tommy slide his hands up Tatiana’s thighs. Tatiana inhaled sharply, then moaned when he leaned in to press a kiss to her mound. She was still speaking, but it was just noise as far as Lucy was concerned, hastily pushing her waistcoat aside and setting to work tugging at the buttons on her shirt layered underneath, suddenly rather jealous of Tatiana’s dress and how easily she was rid of it. Her thighs clenched together as she opened her shirt only halfway before sneaking a hand in to slide beneath her bra and pinch her nipple. The other fumbled with her belt, huffing in moderate frustration when she had to abandon her breast in order to undo both it and the fastenings of her trousers. Kicking them and her knickers off, she stretched out on the expensive, plush rugs, in just her half unbuttoned shirt, fingers trailing delicately through her moistening folds.    

Tatiana shoved Tommy down onto the rug beside Lucy, her movements almost violent, hands locked around Tommy’s throat and starting to squeeze. She let go of his throat with one hand for just a split second to guide him inside of her, and Tommy made a gasping sound, both hands latching tightly onto Tatiana’s thighs as she sunk down on him, replacing her second hand back onto his throat the second she was fully seated.  

Lucy tensed at the sound of him gasping and grunting, prepared to leap into action should Tatiana go too far. If Tommy’s face started turning blue or he lost consciousness, she’d shove her off of him. 

But he seemed to be quite enjoying himself, moaning lowly as Tatiana started to ride him vigorously, so she allowed herself to relax, fingers circling her clit and dipping tentatively into her as she watched them.

Tommy’s face changed as Tatiana fucked him, eyes unfocused, not staring at anything in the room. His hands wandered up from her thighs to wrap around her neck, and Tatiana moaned, eyes closing as he started to lightly choke her back.

Lucy watched in deep fascination as Tommy’s expression grew more enraptured; sorrow, desire, and adoration all mixing together in his still unfocused eyes. 

“Grace,” when he said the name Lucy had to bite down on her tongue to wrestle down a sob, feeling the agony of loss burning in her chest at just her name alone.    

Tommy’s head tilted back, pushing hard into the carpet while his hips continued to buck upwards, meeting Tatiana’s every movement. Lucy had given up on touching herself, instead just watching them, intrigued, with one hand loosely cupping her breast. Her thighs still squeezed together, though, in response to the erotic sight spread out beside her. The spark of pleasure helping only a little to distract herself from the aching empty space that had opened up inside her heart since the night of the charity dinner. Tommy grunted, his eyes bulging slightly, a sound almost like a sob reverberating from his throat.  

He came fast, with a cry, hips jerking. Spasming upwards when at the same time Tatiana pulled her hands from his throat, as if still half chasing the sensation of them squeezing his neck even as he gasped and coughed for air, fumbling to loosen the fabric at his collar. Tatiana rolled  off of him, reaching for a bottle of liquor near the fireplace. But when she offered it, Tommy tossed the bottle away, chest heaving and eyes staring up at the ceiling. 

Tatiana giggled, delighted, and snuggled into his side, rubbing his chest. Tommy dropped an arm loosely to wrap around her shoulders. The look on his face told Lucy that he still wasn’t entirely there; half lost in the memories of whatever it was that he’d seen while Tatiana was choking him.

She inched closer to them across the carpet, and Tatiana raised her head from where she’d rested it on Tommy’s chest, dark eyes sparkling with wicked glee. She sat up, slinking her way across Tommy to kneel in front of her, but Lucy was not focusing on the Russian, instead reaching out to tentatively brush her hand across Tommy’s chest. Lashes fluttering, he pulled his gaze from the ceiling to look at her lazily, large, warm hand covering hers where it rested on him.

Her lips parted, half wanting to ask him what he had seen, even though she already knew. 

She jumped when Tatiana’s cold hands locked around her throat, starting to squeeze without preamble.

“No–!” she yanked her head away, panic suddenly seizing her. It was too much like it had been in the alley, her attackers doing just about anything they could think of to hurt her; squeezing her throat so hard she thought they might crush her windpipe, while others carved into her skin with their pocket knives, filthy hands groping at her all the while. 

Tatiana loosened her grip, frowning at the reaction.

“Let her go,” Tommy ordered, suddenly there and crowding Tatiana away from her. She let go of Lucy’s neck, and her lungs burned as they expanded again with a rush of oxygen, her breaths shaky as she breathed in deeply to try to calm herself. Tommy stroked her cheek. “It’s okay. You don’t have to try.”

She bit her lip, remembering the look that had crossed his face while Tatiana had choked him. 

“Did you really see her?” she asked, voice so quiet it was a wonder that he heard her at all. Tommy nodded. A strangled sound left Lucy’s throat. “I want to…I want to try.”

He cocked his head, considering, and then an idea lit up behind his blue irises. “Come here, then,” he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her forward and into him, until she was in his lap. He kissed her once, thumbs stroking her cheeks, and then pulled back until he was laying down on the carpet. She closed her eyes, nuzzling at his palm while he stroked it along her face, trailing down her cheek, cupping her jaw, and then falling lower to wrap loosely around her throat. 

Her eyes opened, staring down at him. He wasn’t putting any pressure on her, just gently resting his hand there. She swallowed around it. The hand not on her neck curled around her hip, the fingers on her throat flexing, thumb stroking the sensitive skin. Lucy stared down, into his shrewd, questioning eyes, and gave a small nod.

“Not too hard,” she warned hastily, when his fingers tightened a tiny fraction. 

The hand on her hip moved to her right wrist, guiding it to rest on the forearm of the hand still holding her throat. 

“You pinch me if you need to stop.”

She nodded against his hand, relaxing at the knowledge that she had an easy out if she needed it. With the hand not around her throat, he adjusted her in his lap, reawoken and hardening cock throbbing and twitching against her thigh. She rolled her hips downwards, rubbing against him and encouraging him to swell further. He let out a soft hissing sound from between his teeth at the contact. There was rustling behind her, and a moment later Tatiana’s warm chest pressed up against her back, naked breasts tickling her shoulder blades. 

Her throat constricted, and not because of the large hand locked around it. The position so easily reminded her of the ones they would often partake in with Grace. 

Tatiana’s lips burned as they peppered across Lucy’s shoulder, hands smoothing down her chest to cup her breast, thumb running teasingly along her nipple before moving lower, until she was taking Tommy, fully hard now, in her fist, giving him a few pumps before guiding him to Lucy’s entrance. 

As she lowered herself down onto him, Tommy began very slowly to tighten his fingers at the sides of her throat, the tiniest bit of pressure making her shudder. His hand was big and warm, thumb still tenderly petting her skin. Lucy sighed blissfully once he was fully seated inside her, head tipping back while her eyes closed. Tatiana was sucking a mark into her shoulder, fingers busy undoing the remaining closed buttons on Lucy’s shirt, letting it fall open so that she could gingerly trace her fingertips across the scars marring her torso.

With a hand still holding onto Tommy’s forearm and the other braced on his chest, Lucy started to ride him slowly, sighing softly at the deep stretch of him as she bounced steadily up and down his thick cock.   

His hand was still applying a slight pressure to her throat. Not enough to cut off airflow; but just enough to let her properly feel the pressure. Her eyelids fluttered. The feeling of it was nice, but when her eyes darted to the dark corners of the room, she saw nothing but shadows. No Grace.

“You’re being too gentle with her,” Tatiana said, craning her head around to examine Tommy’s hand on Lucy’s throat. “If you don’t cut off the oxygen even a little she’s not going to see anything,” she reached up, moving to rest her hand atop Tommy’s on Lucy’s neck, and Lucy tightened her fingers where she was still clinging to his forearm in slight alarm. “You need to squeeze like this–”

“Don’t,” Tommy growled, and Tatiana retracted her hand hastily. Even she seemed to understand the consequences would be dire should she push things too far when it came to Lucy. “I know what I’m doing.”

A shiver ran down Lucy’s spine at the way he said it; voice an octave lower and all growly. His eyes snapped back to her, brow raising as he undoubtedly felt her tighten unconsciously around him. Sitting up and pulling her closer, he ran his nose along her cheek, kissing at her temple while his hips resumed pumping in and out of her. She relaxed her hand against his forearm, head tipping back with her moans and to let him kiss the underside of her jaw.

Gradually, so slowly she didn’t even really notice it at first, his hand started to squeeze tighter, the pressure on the sides of her throat gradually increasing.

Her chest heaved, breathing becoming more labored, and not from the physical exertion of their movements. He still wasn’t fully cutting off her oxygen, only impeding it enough to make her lungs burn a little. Her head swam, the room spinning hypnotically. And then he squeezed his fingers just a little more, and she gasped, still able to breathe, but only in tiny little gasps. The hand not occupied with her throat stroked along her side, coming to rest just under her breast, and she realized after a moment that he was feeling the expanding of her ribs beneath her skin, monitoring her breathing to ensure she was alright.

For a second, tears caught at the back of her eyes. There really was no safer place in the world for her to be than in Tommy’s arms.

He’d dropped his face to her chest, burying it between her breasts before busying himself with sucking on one of her hardened nipples. Butterfly-light kisses peppered the entire expanse of her shoulder, from her bicep to the crook of her neck, and when she turned her gaze to the source, she was not met with the dark hair and wicked, gleeful eyes of Tatiana.

The eyes that were staring back at her were blue as the sky, and sorrowful as a widow at her husband’s wake. 

Grace smiled at her, the same sad, wistful smile she’d given her the handful of times she’d appeared; standing in dark corners, perched on a windowsill, seated at one of the empty chairs at a table. Always watching them with that mournful look of longing. When she brushed the back of her hand along Lucy’s cheek, her touch was cold but delicate, and when she kissed her, she tasted like Grace always had: sweet as strawberries or peaches, but cut with something stronger and sharp, like gin, and holding just the slightest smokiness of cigarettes.

A sob spasmed in Lucy’s chest, lips parting to her lover’s to deepen the kiss. And then it was just it had always been: Tommy at her front, fucking her deep and gentle with his cock, and Grace at her back, legs on either side of her, kissing her sweetly while her cool fingers cupped her breasts and traced over her scars, working their way down until they circled firmly around her clit. 

Had she not been impeded by the limited oxygen currently available to her lungs, she would have cried out. But instead all she managed was a strangled, whimpering noise, walls fluttering and clamping down hard. Distantly, she heard Tommy let out a low grunt at the action, the pace of his thrusts picking up slightly. The sensation of his cock throbbing inside of her only adding to the dizzying pleasure addling her brain.

Grace didn’t say a word as she continued to stimulate Lucy’s clit, still pressing soft kisses to her cheeks and neck, briefly caressing her lips across Tommy’s knuckles where his hand was still locked tight around Lucy’s throat, then back to the spot where her shoulder met neck, sucking a tender love bite into the sensitive flesh.

Her orgasm swelled up inside of her like a tide, breaking forth with a sudden rush that soaked Tommy’s cock while she tightened around him, body tensing with the force of it. Black spots appeared in her vision, and it was all too much that she had to squeeze her eyes shut, even as her head tilted to still nudge against Grace’s.

Pressed up against her, Tommy groaned low in his throat, rolling his hips languidly, helping to prolong her orgasm for as long as he could. As it started to ebb, she slowly, tentatively opened her eyes. Grace was still there, head nestled against her shoulder, watching them fondly. When she spotted Lucy looking at her, she smiled, not as sad as the one she’d given her before, and tilted her head up to kiss her chastely on the lips.

Closing her eyes and leaning into the kiss, Lucy could feel it as Tommy gradually began to relax his grip on her throat, more and more oxygen filling her lungs. She felt the lips that were pressed to hers pull back, and she fought back the sudden desire to cry. To beg her not to leave. 

She knew that when she opened her eyes, there would be no one there. 

Tommy’s hand finally fully loosened, hand flattening in a gentle caress down her throat, smoothing in a descent to her chest, sliding between her breasts and finally finding a new home on her thigh.

He’d stopped moving at some point, though she could plainly feel that he was still hard and throbbing inside of her. Eyes peeling open slowly, she was greeted with his bright blue orbs, practically glowing thanks to the reflection from the fire, staring back at her. She cupped his face tentatively, resting her forehead against his while they basked for a moment in their shared sorrow and wonderment over this new possibility Tatiana had unlocked for them. His nose just barely knocked against hers, and with a slight tilt of her head, she kissed him, arms sliding around his strong shoulders, gripping tight as she began slowly to rise up and down on his cock, swallowing the moan he released.    

She was distantly aware of Tatiana still at her back, her hands and lips sliding over them both, but she paid her little attention, instead entirely focused on Tommy. Looping her legs around his waist, she sighed into his pillowy-soft lips as they kissed over and over again, his big hands caressing and holding her like she was made of China, so gentle it almost made her want to cry.

Her second orgasm snuck up on her practically out of nowhere, too engrossed with the warmth and comfort of being so close to Tommy to be aware of it until it was upon her. They weren’t kissing anymore so much as just breathing into one another, lips parted as they gasped. Tommy made a small, pleased noise in the back of his throat when he felt her start to come around him, strong arms pulling her by some miracle even closer, mouth slanting across hers in a desperate kiss, hips still rolling up into her. Arms wrapping around his shoulders, she hugged him to her, suddenly overtaken by the deep need to hold him tight and never let him go. 

Tommy moaned, quiet and low into her mouth, his hands tightening where they rested at her waist, and then he was coming too, pushing in all the way and staying there as he emptied himself into her. Lucy hummed at the familiar feeling of his warm seed releasing inside her, and when they finally broke from their kiss, it was to embrace, heads nestling into each other’s shoulders, chests heaving against one another as they shuddered with the final waves of their shared pleasure. 

Closing her eyes, Lucy allowed herself to relax fully against him, sinking into the depths of his arms with her head still nuzzled into his shoulder. He petted her back, pressing kisses into her hair.

“You see?” Tatiana’s voice sounded very far away. “There are still ways for you to have what you want most,” and then she was laughing; a mad, crackling sound, as she pulled away from them, standing to scoop up her dress and pull it back on. Her red lips were stretched wide with her grin, crooning something about vodka and cakes in one of the drawing rooms. Her dark eyes glittered, dancing with madness and wisdom in equal measure. She did not seem perturbed when neither of them acknowledged her, just chuckling from someplace low in her chest. “When you both are able to stand, you will come join me, yes?” she didn’t wait for a response, just readjusting the collar of her dress and patting at her hair before flashing them one final grin and sweeping from the room, the door closing behind her with a quiet click. 

Tommy exhaled slowly. Shifting in his arms, Lucy lifted gingerly off of him, wincing a little at the overstimulation as his softening cock slid from her still sensitive cunt. Arm looped around her, he guided her to lay down with him as he reclined with a soft groan back onto the rug with her tucked safely into his side, head resting on his chest.

Neither of them said anything for a long time, just listening to the quiet crackles and pops from the fire as it slowly died, the room growing darker and darker with each passing minute. Outside the closed door, Lucy could very distantly make out the sounds of moans and skin slapping skin where the orgy was still in full swing. 

She was not really there, though. Her mind was faraway, locked in memories of the things she’d seen when Tommy’s hand had been wrapped around her throat. The way Grace had kissed her. The distant scent of her perfume, the coolness of her hands as they ran across Lucy’s skin…

Warmth from Tommy’s fingers, swiping gingerly at her cheek where she realized a tear had escaped, drew her attention from her own melancholic thoughts. Craning her head up to look at him, her eyelids fluttered at the gentle brush of the back of his hand along her cheek, cozying in closer to his chest. He was studying her face shrewdly, as if he’d known exactly what she was thinking. His gaze flitted down, to focus on her neck, and his brow pinched, fingertips delicately touching her throat. 

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

She had to bite back a bewildered laugh at the question. As if he was ever anything but sweet and careful with her. 

“No,” she shook her head, angling her face down to catch his palm in a nuzzle and press a few kisses to the tips of his fingers. “Not too rough.”

He gave her a tiny smile, cupping her chin to angle her face up so he could kiss her. The brush of his lips was soft, still being incredibly gentle with her as he cradled her face, thumb stroking her cheek even after they parted. With a sigh, she dropped her face into his neck, arms draped over his chest.   

“It’s so hard,” she murmured miserably after another stretch of silence. The fire had died out almost completely, little more than a pile of smoldering ash and fading embers. Most of the candles had burned down to nothing, leaving them in almost complete darkness. It was hard to say what time it was. “I miss her so much.”

Tommy rubbed her back. “I know. I miss her too.”

“Do you…” she stuttered, swallowing around the lump in her throat. “Do you think it’ll ever get easier?”

She had hoped, with time, that perhaps the worst of the pain and guilt over Grace’s death would scar over. Not go away, necessarily. She knew better than to ever expect that. But to at least become less potent. Less capable of leaving her with tears building behind her eyes at every memory of her dead lover. At the very least she ought to be able to hear the uttering of her name without feeling as though the sound of it would cause her to shatter, shouldn’t she?

But that had not happened at all. The pain was still there, haunting in the back of her mind, waiting for something–be it a memory or a simple glance at an old photograph–to reawaken the howling agony within her chest. She was beginning to think that it would never stop hurting.  

Tommy was quiet for a long moment, still tracing patterns absentmindedly into her back. “I don’t know,” he said, finally. “I think…we’ll learn to live with it.”

She nodded, eyes closing at his lips brushing the top of her head. She really didn’t know what she would do without him. The grief was terrible enough as is; she didn’t think she would have survived had she been forced to go through it alone. 

“Our business here is almost done.”

“Yes. Almost.”

She stretched out her limbs, wincing at the slight stiffness already beginning to settle in them. A reminder that she wasn’t in her twenties anymore. “We should probably get up.”

“Yeah.”

But when she made a move to sit up, he stopped her with a hand on the back of her waist, the other cupping her cheek and drawing her in for another kiss. 

“I love you,” he murmured, once they’d pulled away. Lucy smiled softly.

“I love you too.”

His thumb gave her cheek one last stroke before he let her go, grimacing as he sat up, stretching out his muscles. Lucy bit her lip as she watched him drag himself to his feet, towering over her. 

It was a very nice angle to look at him from. 

He looked down at her, brow raised, a small snort leaving him when she held her hands out to him in silent demand. Grasping both of them firmly, he helped pull her to her feet with one strong flex of muscle, and she had to stifle a gasp when she collided into his chest. 

They set to work pulling on and readjusting their clothes, giving each other a once over to make sure everything looked as it should. Tommy smoothed a hand over her hair, trying in vain to tame her messy curls, then reached down, taking her hand tightly in his. Suddenly feeling very tired, Lucy tipped forward, until her head was resting on the center of his chest, closing her eyes. Tommy caressed the back of her head.

“Ready?”

She dragged in a deep, ragged breath, and nodded, opening her eyes and leaning back. 

He pecked her forehead, squeezed her hand, and together they headed towards the door.

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinders #my ocs #lucy winters #lucy winters x tommy shelby #in the bleak midwinter #love me where i'm most ruined #my fanfiction #grace burgess #grace burgess x tommy shelby x oc #grace burgess x oc

[mignonricciardo]

august | dr3

chapter four

I am so sorry for the wait, but I think I’ve finally found myself in this. 🤍 I’m publishing this super early after finishing it, so please ignore potential edits and typos. from me to you — I appreciate you.

Day 6 of 19

“Callie, I cannot believe you right now,” Daniel is laughing in the threshold of the small Italian apartment, the wooden floors continuing from the living room to the hallway. “I tried to warn you last night.”

“Please quit shouting,” I wince at his laughter, the volume pricking my ears and making my head continue with its incessant pounding. 

He chuckles again, walking toward me this time where I lay sprawled on the couch, and he crouches in front of me. My eyes are still shut as the sun peeks through the curtains, but I can hear the rustling of his clothing and feel him close to me. My heart pounds with thoughts of him so close. I crack open an eye, rubbing at mascara from the night before and squinting in the unwelcome light. Daniel blocks most of it with his broad back deflecting the golden rays, and he’s smiling softly when our eyes meet.

“You look like shit,” he says, voice still gentle despite the obvious dig.

“I feel like it,” I answer without missing a beat, ignoring the flutter in my chest at his broad smile. Would that ever stop? 

He reaches into the plastic bag in his hand, digging out paracetamol and a sports drink with a label in full Italian. He pops open the new bottle, dumping two tablets into his hand before placing them in mine, and he hands me the drink as a direction to take them. I follow his unspoken orders, trying not to gag as the drink settles in my stomach.

“Jules said this is what he does, and it works like a charm,” Daniel says as I set the bottle down. 

“How is he this morning?” my voice is raspy.

Daniel laughs, “Fuck, like he didn’t even have a sip of alcohol. We’ve already gone on our 5k run and done our morning workout. He beat me in nearly everything despite getting home three hours ago.”

The laughter bubbling from his chest is contagious, and I find myself laughing along at the image of Daniel struggling to keep up with a maybe-still-drunk Jules. 

“He asked how you were, and I told him you were still passed out when I left this morning to meet him. I dropped so much shit in the shower and you didn’t even flinch,” he’s still laughing as he recounts my obnoxious, drunken snoring all through the morning. “We stopped at the pharmacy on the way back.”

“Well, I sure appreciate it,” I answer, trying to ignore the warmth continuing to bubble up in my chest. “My liver is still angry with you, though.”

“What can I do to make it up to you, then?” he’s grinning broadly, playing along with my act. 

“You owe me lunch or dinner — whichever I can eat first — and a trip to that bookstore you’ve been telling me about.”

He grabs my hand to pull me off the couch, and I groan as he handles me easily before nudging me toward his shower, “Deal, but you need to shower and wash off all of last night’s mistakes. You still smell like limoncello shots.”

I clutch my stomach at the mention of alcohol, stopping dead in my tracks on the way toward his shower, “I could kill you.”

He laughs loudly as I continue my trek toward the shower, “I can’t wait to tell Jack this story. He’ll love knowing it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, shutting the door behind me. 

Flashes of the night before flit across my mind as the warm water pours over me — pounding music, endless drinks, Jules trying to play matchmaker between Daniel and I. The uncomfortable feeling buries deep in my gut as I recall Daniel’s reaction to Jules’ comments. The dismissal, the denial, the laughter and carrying on. He brought me home, though. Daniel let me hang off him and giggle to myself as he and Jules drug me back. He made sure I took my shoes off before collapsing onto the couch, and he covered me up in the middle of the night after I had tossed and turned so the blanket ended up on the floor. Had he checked on me?

Hazy memories play on a loop as I stand beneath the warm spray, pressing fingers into my eyes as the images from the club burn into my vision. The bass thumping along with the pounding in my head, and I can feel the burn of his fingertips on my hips and lower back as he slides past me in the club. Jules grins with every touch between us, even when our elbows knock each other as he’s carrying drinks back to us. 

I’m suddenly gripped with an image of Daniel ushering me into the apartment, hands steadying my hips as I trip up the steps and across the threshold. They linger, the warmth of them mingling with the buzz of the alcohol, and he laughs at me as I pitch forward toward the kitchen. His hands tighten, and he nudges me toward the couch. 

“I’ll get you some water. Take your shoes off for me,” he says gently, eyes glinting as a smile plays on his lips.

Instead of listening to his orders, I watch him move through the tiny kitchen in the dim light. He moves with an ease that my drunken limbs won’t allow, and he steps toward me with the glass before setting it on the table before me. He chuckles as he looks down at my heels. I start to make an excuse, but barely anything comprehensible falls from my lips. He heads into his room before returning with a pair of my sweatpants and one of his large t-shirts. He crouches before me, fingers wrapping gently around my ankle as he slides a heel from my foot. 

“Better?” he asks without looking up to me, deft fingers switching to the next foot. 

I nod my head, muttering a slurred thank you as I watch his every move. He tosses them next to my bag at the end of the couch before looking back to me. 

“I brought you clothes,” he says quietly, eyes meeting mine in the dim apartment. 

I can’t even respond, too caught up in the feeling of his eyes on mine and warmth so close. We’re suspended for a moment, silence beyond our breaths surrounding us, and I inch toward him. He’s leaning in, hands resting on my knees, but I hiccup which suddenly breaks our spell. He shakes his head slightly, curls bouncing wildly, and removes his hands from my knees. 

“Let’s get you out of this,” he whispers quietly, fingers reaching toward the zipper of my dress behind my neck to get it started for me. 

I reach behind me, struggling to find the zipper in my hazy state. When my fingers fumble with the metal clasp, Daniel grins slightly, “Here, let me help you.”

Daniel reaches behind me again, and I’m hyper aware of his fingers ghosting along my spine as he drags the zipper carefully. I slump forward into his warmth as goosebumps rise along my skin, and he whispers something as he slides the shoulder of the dress off my right arm.

“Can’t see me like this,” I whisper.

“Cal, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he whispers reassuringly. “I promise you I’m not looking.”

I look back to meet his eyes, arms crossed in front of my chest. There it is — the mention of what we promised to never speak about again. He meets my gaze, and I’m left entirely disarmed and defenses down. He hesitates, fingers continuing with the material of the dress slowly, and I let him drag the fabric down my arms. 

“Arms up, apples,” he whispers, tugging his t-shirt over my head. “I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you. It pings around in my brain, growing hazy as he pulls a blanket around my shoulders. When I’m finally laying, propped up with every throw pillow he could find, he says goodnight. The door to his bedroom remains cracked, and once his light is out, my brain continues its refrain — I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you. 

Pounding. My head is pounding before I even open my eyes, and my tongue feels like sand in my mouth. The memory is still fresh in my mind of Italy years ago as I reach for the nightstand table, fumbling for the water bottle with my eyes closed against the morning light surely pouring in through the windows. Instead of being met with the cool metal bottle, my fingers hit warm skin — oh, fuck.

“Fuck, what are you looking for?” Daniel rasps, and my heart jumps into my throat at the delicious rasp in his tone.

Callie, you have to stop ending up like this.

“Water bottle,” I mumble out, hearing how horrible my voice sounds as my head continues its pounding. 

Daniel chuckles quietly at my display, and as I feel the mattress shift, I crack my eyes open as he rolls to grab the bottle for me. I feel a hand removed from my hip as he does, and my face goes crimson as I realize how close we were. As if the feeling in my chest couldn’t get any more intense, warmth spreads even further through my limbs as he rolls over. The white t-shirt makes his skin look even tanner as it climbs to reveal part of his back, and the flannel jacket has been tossed to the end of the bed. He hands me the bottle, and I rub my eyes to hide the fact I was shamelessly checking him out. I thank him as I take a sip, and I sit up beneath the fleece blankets as he lays back against the pillows. Dark, wild curls fan out around his head as he puts one of his hands behind his head, and he tips his eyes up to me as I watch him. There’s a hint of a grin tugging at his pink lips, revealing peeks at white teeth and that look on his face that says he’s up to no good.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, grin inching up toward his dimples.

“Terrible,” I answer, wincing as my head pounds. “I don’t know what possessed me to drink like I was 20 again.”

Daniel chuckles, and the vibrations hit me square in the chest and fill me with warmth, “You never could keep up, Cal. Remember Italy? You were allowed to indulge last night, though. I thought you deserved it.”

“I’m blaming you for not stopping me.”

“You were drunk before I got there,” he laughs, flinching as I hit him with a pillow. 

I laugh with him despite the pounding of my head, and I’m suddenly reminded of last night. The dim interior of the bar flashes across my mind, paired with images of a younger Daniel next to his childhood hero on the walls behind the bartender. He was at Gulliver’s waiting for me if something happened. He hadn’t gone home. 

“Dan, why did you go to Gulliver’s instead of coming home?” I keep my joking tone up as I ask, but I’m hit again with the realization of calling this place home. 

He stretches his arm to snatch my water bottle from me, taking a sip from it before leaning it against my thigh, “I’m not sure, to be honest. I just had a feeling you’d need me to be there, so I drove around town to remember what it was like until you called me. It looked different at night, though.”

“Come with me today,” I say it before I even realize it’s coming out of my mouth. Daniel looks at me with furrowed brows, and I continue so that my words make sense, “I have to check out the vineyard for Elizabeth before the engagement party. Come with me into town after.”

My cheeks are burning as I feel his eyes on my face, and they trace my features gently as a small smile graces his lips. Silence stretches for a moment before he answers, “I’d like that, actually. What time are you leaving?”

“I have to be at the vineyard at noon for the tour and meet with the event planner,” I answer, feeling suddenly breathless with his eyes on me. 

He glances over at the clock on the bedside table, and I swear my heart nearly jumps into my throat as he turns back to face me, “Do you want to grab breakfast on the way? If we leave soon, we’ll have time for the drive and to eat.”

I nod my head, suddenly tripping over my words, “Sure, that sounds great. I’ll get ready.”

I watch as he rolls out of the bed, mussing his hair and stretching his arms. I have to stop letting this happen. He strolls out of the room, leaving his flannel jacket behind on the bed, and I flop back down on the mattress as I process what had happened in the last 10 hours. As I sit back up, I see my glasses tucked neatly on the bedside table next to where Daniel had been sleeping. One of the picture frames with me and Dad that I left face down is moved to the left — had Daniel gone to fix it? God, I had to pull myself together. 

Downstairs, Michael is sitting at the kitchen table, sipping what must be his third cup of coffee for the morning as he does some work on his laptop. A self-help book sits next to him, cracks in the spine and bookmark hanging out, and his glasses sit on his nose. He looks up at me as I pass, a slight grin tugging at his lips.

“Rough morning?” he asks.

“Fuck you,” I answer without missing a beat, and he’s laughing at my response as I pour myself a coffee from the half empty pot. I take a drink of the warm liquid, ignoring the rolling of my stomach, before meeting his eyes again, “Why am I allowed to drink?”

“You should try working out to get rid of the hangover. It always works for me,” he grins. “Daniel, too. He was up before me this morning. I woke up late and missed our run, so he must’ve went without me.”

Shit. Michael has no clue Daniel was not out running but rather asleep in my bed. Guilt suddenly buries itself deep in my stomach at keeping it from him, but a little spark festers at the thrill of getting away with something. 

“You see him yet this morning?” I ask, turning toward the sink to look out the window to hide my guilty face.

“No, but I hear the shower. Must’ve been a brutal run,” Michael chuckles to himself. “A part of me is glad I missed it.”

“Yeah, me too,” I answer distractedly, heart pounding in my chest. 

A brief silence ensues, and Michael taps something on his laptop keys before he continues, “Anyway, what are you dressed nice for?”

I look down at the jeans and sweater, opting for my glasses instead of contacts today, “Headed to the vineyard for Elizabeth and Jack. They need someone to meet with the event planner, and they apparently trust me and my taste.”

We fall into a comfortable silence after Michael wishes me a good time, and he continues his work on his laptop diligently. I watch ocean waves crash against the shore through the window pane, feeling glimmers of hope in the gray sky as peeks of blue pop through the endless clouds. Footsteps come down the stairs, and both of us turn to see Daniel. Instead of my heart leaping into my throat, a sense of calm washes over me. His hair is still wet, and his necklace glimmers as he comes down the stairs. I catch a whiff of his cologne, and we both smile as our eyes meet. Michael has caught us.

“How was the run, mate?” Michael asks, clearly suspicious. 

“Didn’t go,” he says, turning to him. “I had to take care of this one all night and morning. You know how she can’t handle her alcohol.”

Michael turns to me, and I can’t quite decipher the look on his face. It’s like when you’ve been caught by a schoolteacher, and my cheeks burn red as a clear indicator of my guilt. He forces a smile, “She never could, could she?”

“We’re headed to the vineyard for Jack and Elizabeth before heading into town,” Daniel starts, sliding by Michael to grab his keys off the table. “You interested?”

“No, I need to get caught up,” Michael smiles. “You two have fun, though. Promise me you’ll do something to prank Jack at the vineyard.”

“Oh, you already know it,” Daniel laughs, bidding his friend goodbye as he heads toward the porch. 

I set my coffee cup in the sink, ready to make a dash for the door, but once it clicks shut, Michael starts. 

“Cal,” he warns, eyes serious as a slump to his shoulders settles. 

“Michael, I’ll be okay,” I assure him, feeling a sense of unease worm its way into my stomach. 

He watches me as I move toward the door, and my hand hesitates on the knob as I feel his eyes on me. I turn to him, waiting for whatever is resting on the tip of his tongue, and our eyes meet. For a moment, I’m reminded of a younger Michael — one that would let me pour my heart out to him knowing he’d never tell another soul. He looks older now, but a part of me still wants to bear everything I’m feeling. 

“I can’t pick up the pieces again,” he says softly. “Not for both of you.”

For both of us? I stand there in hesitation, eyes focused on him as he gets back to work on his laptop. Beyond the door, Daniel yells my name, and Michael says a quiet goodbye as I shrug off the thought, bidding him a quiet see you later as I step on to the porch. The unease from his comment settles deep into my stomach, and I do my best to ignore it as I follow Daniel to his car. The leather is strangely familiar, the scent of him already strong in the newer car, and I have flashbacks of sitting in this seat the night before, singing my heart out despite slurred words. 

Breakfast and the drive are nice, climbing through winding seaside roads. Michael’s comment hangs in the back of my mind, eating away at me as I keep up with Daniel’s conversation. He cracks the windows in the car, just enough to smell let the salty breeze blow through without chilling directly to the bone. My hair whips in the wind, and I laugh as we sing along to the playlist together. Songs from our youth flow through the speakers, and for a brief moment, Michael’s words don’t echo in my brain, replaced by power chords and whining lyrics about being a kid. When the vineyard appears, lush green rolling as far as we can see, Daniel rolls up the windows and meets me on the other side of the car as I step out. 

“Nice place,” he comments as we approach the stone house with a large wooden deck wrapping around the structure. 

The breeze is milder than home, and while chilly, it doesn’t cut through my sweater like it does on the coast. I agree with him, finding myself in awe as we cut through lush grass toward the main entrance of the building. A woman stands on the porch, notebook in hand, and lights up as she sees us approaching. 

“Are you my noon appointment?” she says cheerily, smile cutting across her face. 

I nod, and she clasps her hands together, “Aren’t you two the cutest. You’ll love this place for the engagement party. Tell me how he proposed while we walk through the building?”

How he proposed? Daniel and I look at each other, and while my face is bright red, he is biting his lip to hold back laughter. 

“We’re not engaged. We’re touring on behalf of the-”

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry! You did note that,” she says, a look of horror on her face as she sees Daniel and I. “I must have mixed you up with tomorrow’s booking. You’re the group touring on behalf of your sister-in-law, yeah?”

I nod my head, “Callie O’Connor. We spoke on the phone. This is Daniel. He’s friends with the groom.”

She grins at him, “Lovely to meet both of you. I think you’ll be impressed with the place. Maybe the two of you will book here, too.”

She turns on her heel, powering through the building before I can even process what she had said. Daniel chuckles quietly, leading the way behind her, “Bit of a matchmaker?”

I roll my eyes, “She’s trying to sell the place. I can’t blame her.”

“Think you’d get married here?” he asks quietly as the event planner chatters away, giving us the history of the vineyard. 

A pit settles in my stomach — a reminder of the proposal that was supposed to happen only a few months ago — and I clear my throat to hide my sudden shift in mood, “I would do a small wedding here. It’s cute. Sorta cozy.”

“And an engagement party?” he whispers.

My stomach rolls at the mention of an engagement party, remembering finding the ring buried in a duffel bag next to a too large bed in a cabin in Yallingup. The blue velvet box is smooth between my fingers, but a sense of dread climbs up my spine as a voicemail from Daniel pings around my brain. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. 

“Here’s the main event space!” 

The shrill voice of the event planner pulls me back to reality, and Daniel nudges me with brows drawn. I wave him off, plastering on a fake smile as I turn to the event planner to listen to her more intently. I immerse myself into taking pictures and notes on my phone, envisioning Elizabeth and Jack’s engagement party as Elizbeth described it on the phone. White and pink flowers complemented by sprawling greenery across the rustic, wooden tables, and soft lights hanging from the overhead beams. Daniel lingers around the room, weaving between tables and chairs before finding his way to the patio. The words of the event planner drift in and out of my ears, and I desperately try to cling to them to keep from spiraling, so I take pictures. The tables, the chairs, the walls, the vast ceiling, the open walls along the right that spill on to the deck. In the midst of my pictures, my phone pings with a text from Daniel. Need to take a call. I’ll catch up with you in a bit, little photographer. 

I scold myself for smiling at his text, hating the way my chest flutters, but I shoot him a thumbs up from the other side of the room. He smiles tersely, nodding his head as he walks away, holding a phone to his ear. After the full tour of the room, I sit with the event planner — I’ve found out her name is Stacey — to discuss some of the catering options and other items. After a lengthy discussion of wine selection and hors d'oeuvres options, my brain drifts to Daniel. The chunky sweater hanging from his shoulders, concealing a spread of new tattoos that I’d only seen in pictures. The uncharacteristic sag to his shoulders and bags beneath his eyes. I remember waking up next to him this morning, memories of a distant time bathed in Italian sun playing on repeat in my foggy brain. The wooden floors creak beneath us with age, and the uneven shower door splashes water across the bathroom. A mantra of I’ve got you weaves its way through memories hazy with alcohol and the passage of time. 

Stacey asks about continuing the tour of the winery, and I nod as I see Daniel at the edge of the property, sitting on the lip of a stone wall as he stares down at his feet. He isn’t speaking, but his phone is pressed to his ear. She calls my name from the other end of the room, and I spin on my heel to follow her, leaving the site of Daniel behind. My thoughts trail as she continues the tour, and she guides me through some of the property that Elizabeth and Jack will have access to during their party. Rows of grapes rise as we walk, and I notice Stacey’s heels sinking into the earth as we weave through the greenery. She hands me her card when we arrive back at the main building, and I thank her before she invites me to explore any of the property on my own. My mind immediately flies to finding Daniel. I shoot him a text — All done with matchmaker. You ready?

I walk back to the room where Elizabeth and Jack’s party will be, and that’s when I see him. He’s still sitting on the stone wall, but his phone lays beside him now. He’s staring at his feet, but his shoulders are sagging. I begin making my way toward him, feet ruffling across the lush grass. He looks up as I near him, and the glisten in his eyes tells me whatever the phone call had been wasn’t something he had been waiting to hear. I stand before him, heart breaking with the look on his face.

“Daniel,” I whisper, heart pounding in concern as his arms wrap tightly around me. 

He clutches the fabric of my sweater between his fingers, and his forearms squeeze around my waist. He’s quiet as he takes a deep breath, grip never flinching. My arms wrap around him, resting against his back as one of my hands rubs his back. The fabric of his sweater is soft, and warmth radiates off him despite the breeze.  

His voice is raspy and comes out as no more than a whisper, “They’re letting me go at the end of the year.”

My stomach drops at his words, and I have to wonder if I’ve heard them correctly, “Like in four months?”

He nods his head, nose brushing my hair as he rests at the junction of my neck and shoulder, “Abu Dhabi will be my last race.”

“Daniel, I’m sorry. I-”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he whispers, arms still with their tight grip around me. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for at all.”

I let him absorb the moment, pull whatever comfort he can from me, and I’m careful to speak until his grip has started to weaken, “Well, it seems we have less time to figure out what life looks like, don’t we?”

He chuckles quietly, a true laugh despite the weight of the situation, but I don’t miss the tears evident in his voice. His breath hitches as he lets out a shaky exhale, and my hand continues rubbing his back. His skin is warm beneath my touch, radiating through the sweater and the shining sun. The breeze is cool, but the chill from the air is no match for his tight clutch on me. 

“I don’t know what to do now,” he whispers, voice raspy.

My heart aches for him and the pull in his voice, and my voice is gentle, “You don’t have to know, Dan. Right now, it’s okay to just be upset.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, voice trembling. He takes a moment, inhaling deeply, before continuing, “I’m sorry if I pulled you away from the event planner.”

“I finished everything,” I assure him. “All I have to do is tell her goodbye.”

“You take pictures and videos for Jack and Elizabeth?” he asks, hesitant as he pulls his head from my shoulder. 

His eyes are watery, but beyond that, he looks content. It looks like a weight is lifted from his shoulders, and where his shoulders had been sagging, he stands a bit straighter now. The crease between his eyebrows is softer. 

“I’ve got everything they need,” I answer softly, eyes still tracing the features of his face. 

He takes my hands in, squeezing my fingers softly with his palms, and he looks down at where we meet as he speaks, “Thank you, Callie.”

“It’s not a problem, Dan,” I whisper, squeezing his hands back. “You’re not a problem.”

He nods his head, sniffling once before releasing my hands, “I don’t know how to tell Michael.”

“He’s your best mate,” I assure him. “You’re friends before you’re coworkers. We’ll figure this out, Daniel, yeah?”

I see tears rushing to his eyes, and while they never fall, they hang in limbo behind his lashes. I’m sucked right into his gaze, noting the golden rays of the sun making his eyes appear lighter than I had ever noticed. His voice is gentle as he speaks.

“We?”

I nod my head, barely aware of what’s happening with thoughts of Daniel making my mind spin, “We, Dan. I’ve already told you — you’re not going to have to deal with this alone.”

He’s suddenly closer than before, hands still holding on to mine, and face tipped down toward me. The sounds of the ocean in the distance fall away, and the lazy attendees at the winery with their chatter and music dim. My heart is pounding, and suddenly, we’re both leaning toward each other, and-

“Are you ready?!”

I jump away from whatever trance I was in, and turn toward the top of the slope to see the event planner standing there, phone and notebook in hand as she waves one arm and blocks her face from the sun with the other. I heave in a breath, and I hear Daniel do it, too, before turning back to her. 

“Coming now!”

I start hurrying up the hill, and Daniel follows closely behind me.

“I thought you said you were done,” he whispers hurriedly, longer legs already watching up with my strides.

“I thought I was!” I shoot back, plastering on a smile as I stop before the event planner. 

“Enjoy the view?” she asks with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“It’s incredible,” I answer, trying to quit my huffing from my rush up the sloping vineyard. “My future sister-in-law will love it.”

Daniel just nods his head in agreement, following us as the event planner continues her tour of the vineyard space for the party. What the fuck just happened? I’m in a daze as the event planner takes us through another building, sharing the history of the wine-making process on this property. I don’t register a single word she says. Daniel is sure to steer clear of me, but when our elbows bump in the wine cellar, a jolt shoots up my arm. Images of a night, years ago in a French wine cellar, surface. His hands on my hips, and his mouth on my neck. The warmth of his fingers still trailing up my arm in the humid breeze. I wonder if he feels it, too. 

The drive back to Madfish is stifled — conversation focused on the amenities of the vineyard and the strange quirks of Stacey the event planner. I dance around the topics that rest at the tips of our tongues, and any time there’s a lapse of conversation, I turn the music up on the console to sing along or recall a memory of when we were kids. Daniel chuckles along, but I can see that it’s not a true laugh. His eyes don’t crinkle in the corners, and his face returns to its stoic expression once he falls back to silence. 

“Do you want to head home or still go into town?” I ask him quietly, once I’ve used up all the air in the car to avoid having to talk about it. 

“I like that you call it home,” he answers softly, glancing at me before returning his eyes to the road. “Can we reminisce in town another day? I have to talk to Michael.”

I nod my head, ignoring the flutter of disappointment in my gut, “Of course, Dan. I have some work to catch up on.”

“How is the book coming along?” he asks, refocusing the conversation from where it could have been headed. 

I shift in the seat, seeing there’s still nearly 40 minutes until we’re home, and stare out at the passing ocean waves, “It’s good. The manuscript has gotten better as she found her stride around the eighth chapter. It still needs work, though. I see the potential in it.”

“Not that book,” he comments softly, looking to me again. “Your book, Cal. The one you were writing a few years ago.”

“My book?” I ask, feeling suddenly choked up that he remembered about the tiny document living in my laptop — the labor of love hidden away from the world. “I didn’t think you’d remember it. I haven’t touched it in ages.”

“Of course I’d remember it,” he says softly, barely-there smile tugging at his lips in that boyish charm he still possesses. “You were working on it when we spent time in France.”

France. The rolling lavender fields of southern France, and the distant lights of a glittering Monaco. My stomach drops at the mention of the trip — a trip I’ve tried so desperately to forget. It’s a ghost haunting my memories, cropping up in the moments I drift between asleep and awake. The wine cellar, the villa, the sea — the privacy of it all.  

“I haven’t touched it since France,” I lie, fingers picking at the hem of my sweater. 

The truth is I had abandoned the original plot not long after France, letting the events of that fateful trip entirely cloud any writer’s notes I had stored in my brain. The writing bordered on crazed, but I threw myself into it. When I wasn’t editing for clients, I was writing my own novel. It fell apart when Dad got sick. 

“You’re a great writer, Cal,” he whispers, dancing around any other mention of France. “You should pick it back up.”

“It was just a dream,” I answer quietly, a finality in my tone that renders him quiet for the rest of the drive.

Everything from that trip was only a dream. It was when everything changed. 

The house is quiet when we arrive, and Daniel and I barely say another word to each other as we file into the kitchen. He pours two glasses of water, setting one down for me, as he returns the pitcher to the fridge. He takes a long gulp of the glass, fingers trembling around the smooth surface of the blue-tinted cup. 

“You can do this,” I whisper, reassuring him. 

He nods his head, “Thank you, Cal. For everything today.”

My mind flashes to our near kiss at the stone wall. I nod, swallowing thickly, before heading up the creaking stairs to my room. I pass by pictures in the hallway — Jack and Daniel jumping into the pool, Michael and Jack on dirtbikes, me with a drawn on mustache from Jack. I smile softly at the images, heart tugging at one with Dad and Daniel’s dad as they build the old swing set out back. Two peas in a pod with beers poorly hidden at their sides and goofy smiles projected at the camera. There is one of all of us crowded around Daniel, standing in front of his go kart, and smiling at the camera as he holds up a single finger. I’m tucked against his side, smiling up at him, while Jack and Michael make goofy faces at the camera. My fingers brush the older frame, feeling the grooves in the pattern, before heading into my bedroom. I step into the shower, and let the tears flow uninterrupted in the noise of the water hitting the tile. I don’t hear Daniel walk by, and I don’t hear his knock for another pep talk. I’m too tired to fight the memories flashing across my eyes and too scared to ever address them, so I’m reduced to this — crying in the shower, knuckle pressed to my lips, and the feeling of longing blooming all around me. It creeps through cracks in the tile, and it spreads in the warm spray of the shower. It permeates my most cherished memories, bringing moments from France and Italy and all the encounters in between to the surface. Echoes of I’ve got you hammering in my heart. 

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@micksmidnights @d0ntjudgemy50shades @amsofftrack @writing-about-current-obsessions @ferrariwendvale @runningsoundss @ilovecharlesleclerc @a-distantdreamer @neiichh @dan3avacado @scotlynaurora @yearsof-war @raaaaabzzzz @hungryhungariann @dr3loverr @thinkingth0ts @dannyriccbae @iluvricc3 @unluckyhoneybeee @angel-inrealtimeme

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[age-of-greta]

The Moon

The Moon represents illusion and deception, and therefore often suggests a time when something is not as it appears to be. Perhaps a misunderstanding on your part, or a truth you cannot admit to yourself.

Author’s note: hi!! Welcome back to The Moon. Sorry it’s been a few weeks, life has been busy. As always I proofread, but typos happen. No posting schedule, but all parts will be posted Wednesdays at midnight EST. There are only a few more chapters left eeek! Thanks for reading along :) enjoy!!

Paring: Sam x reader & Jake x reader

Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, sort of angst, adult content

Word count: 3.7k

PART 10:

“Hey, there is nothing to be nervous about babe.” Sam says, rubbing his hands on your shoulders.

It was the night of Danny’s big party. You were uneasy to say the least. You and Sam had decided to come out of hiding and announce that you were together. Not like making a grand announcement or anything, but allowing yourselves to hold hands and be as touchy as you liked. Danny and Margo were still the only ones who knew. You knew they would keep it a secret for as long as you wished. Tonight was a gamble. You would be staying the night at Sam’s house because everyone would be drinking. The party started ten minutes ago and you were still at your place, dragging out the inevitable. Sam noticed and tried to comfort you.

“I know. It’s just going to be… weird?” You say, unsure of how he might react to that.

“We don’t have to tell anyone if you’re not ready.” Sam says, lightly.

You shake your head. “No, I want to. It’s just- fuck it. Can you pour me a shot of tequila before we go?”

Sam laughs. “I can do that.”

After your shot you collected your things and got in Sam’s car. You had an overnight bag packed and ready. Currently you wore a strappy black bikini top with frayed jean shorts and sandals. Your hair had a nice beach wave and you wore natural makeup. You felt cute, but you were still ridiculously nervous. You had gone over a million scenarios in your head as to how this evening might play out. The shock that would grip the twins. How Jake would react. Of course it’s not like you didn’t want to tell Jake because you feared it would diminish your relationship. It was more because you were scared that what happened between the two of you might come out. You never wanted Sam to know that. In that moment it’s like Sam could sense your tenseness, because his hand found your knee and he lightly rubbed his thumb on you.

When you pulled up, you decided to take a deep breath and put on your big girl panties. The last thing you wanted was anyone to see that you were anxious and think Sam was holding you hostage or something. You giggled at that thought.

“You good?” Sam asked with a puzzled smile on his face.

“I’m great Sammy. Let’s do this.” You muster up and say, taking his hand.

There was a considerable amount of cars already outside. Knowing how these things go though, you knew more would show up. Sam left your bag in the car for now focusing only on holding your hand and getting you inside. It smelled like beer, hotdogs, and rum when the door opened. You heard Jimi Hendrix playing the Star Spangled Banner inside and you could already see that there were more people inside than you had thought there would be. Your eyes scanned the room, so far no familiar faces. You really didn’t recognize most of these people at all. They had more friends than you thought. Then your eyes landed on curly hair bouncing through the crowd heading straight towards you.

“Well look who finally showed- No fucking way!” Josh yelled through the house.

Then all eyes were on you and Sam.

“Birdie? Samuel?” Josh questioned with a huge smile on his face as he approached you two. “Is this why you haven’t been around much these days Birdie?”

You feel your cheeks turn pink and you start to answer but are cut off again by Josh.

“And you!” Josh says, pointing at Sam. “Is this where you’ve been running off to after sessions? Holy shit! I cracked the code!”

“Settle down Josh. You’re going to bust a blood vessel.” Sam says, nonchalantly.

“Settle down? This is a revelation unfolding before us!” Josh shouts. “Daniel, did you know?”

Danny just raises his eyebrows and his cup.

Josh scoffs. “Jake?”

Then you find yourself flicking your eyes over to Jake for the first time. His hair cascades down an off white linen shirt. Sunglasses dangling around his neck next to his silver necklace. His stance becomes abrasive. He looks pissed. There is a scowl on his face and he’s gripping his glass so hard you can see the white of his knuckles. He just shakes his head at Josh’s question.

“Well I’ll be damned! Congratulations you two. I think I already hear wedding bells in the distance!” Josh continues.

Sam laughs and shakes his head at his brother’s antics, giving your hand a squeeze. “I’m going to go grab us some drinks and say some hellos. Are you okay here?”

You shake your head. “Yeah I’m going to go annoy Danny.”

Sam kisses your cheek before he takes off through the house. Then you feel a hand grip around your wrist.

“Can I fucking talk to you?” Jake says, with annoyance in his tone.

You suck in your cheeks and nod your head. Jake never lets up on his grip as he leads you through the house. He takes you downstairs and inside of the recording space, shutting the door.

Then he turns around and glares at you. “What the fuck?”

“What?” You say back, crossing your arms.

Jake lets out a dry laugh. “Don’t fucking do that.”

You stay quiet.

“So what, you’re just with my brother now? Like you two are together or something? I mean you show up here with him holding hands and then he kisses your cheek. What are you in eighth grade?” Jake spits.

Now you’re irritated. “Oh Jake will you just fucking spare me?”

He scrunches up his face. “Spare you? You’re walking around publicly all cozied up to my little brother.”

“Oh would you prefer I do it in private?” You ask, condescendingly.

He scoffs. “Are you really going to act like nothing happened between us? Like nothing is here between us?”

You feel a hot bubble of anger rise. “Are you fucking kidding me Jake?” Then you laugh. “You must actually be joking.”

“I’m not, and I’d love to know what’s so fucking funny.” Jake says, crossing his arms.

“Oh fuck you!” You yell. “Jake I have been pining over you for half of my fucking life! Yet time and time again you gave me nothing except little shreds of hope. Leading me on, flirting. Then you pop back into my life like Freddy fucking Kreuger and what do you do? Continue to flirt with me, touch me, kiss me, oh and fuck me! Then say oop nevermind! I don’t want to be with you, I just want to fuck you.”

Jake is quiet for a moment. “Birdie… I- it’s not like that. I’ve felt things for you for years. I always thought you would be who I would settle down with. But it’s just… it’s not necessarily what I want right now. There’s just so much going on and traveling and-“

You cut him off with a laugh. “So you want me to be the person you end up with, but only when you’re ready right? So you can travel the world and fuck whoever you want. And I’ll stay here like a good little girl and wait for you to return in the hopes that one day I’ll be your fucking girlfriend?”

Jake sighs. “No, that's not what I meant. I do care about you.”

“Save it.” You say spitefully. “I’m not someone who is just here out of convenience anymore Jake.”

He then takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his hair. “Fuck. Birdie will you just listen? I’m not just saying all of this shit to you. I’m not blind, I’ve always seen this thing between us.”

“But you’ve ignored it because you want to fuck other people?” You spit.

“No- I. Goddamnit okay fine. Here you go.” He pauses and paces around the room for a moment before continuing. “I care about you. I do. Hell I even think I might I lov-“

“Stop.” You say shaking your head and putting your hand up. “Stop. Do not say that to me. I’m not doing this with you. I am with Sam. I’m happy with Sam. I’m going to continue to be with Sam.”

Jake clenches his jaw. “I don’t want that.”

You feel the threat of tears brimming in your eyes, you need to get out of there. “Well this is what I’m choosing. So you’re going to just have to come to terms with it.”

“My brother? Really? Is this your way of getting back at me?” Jake says, absolutely dumbfounded.

“Fuck Jake not everything is about you!” You say, storming off.

You climb up the stairs as hot tears stream down your face. As soon as you emerge upstairs you beeline to the bathroom. You give yourself a few minutes to cry, before cleaning your face up. You know by now Sam is looking for you and you pray to god Jake doesn’t do anything stupid. Finally your face has returned to normal, so you clean yourself up and head back out to the party. You see Sam talking with Danny and his face lights up when he sees you.

“There you are. Here’s your drink.” Sam says, giving you a cup.

“Thank you.” You say with a smile. “Sorry Margo had called me.” You lie.

“No worries. Care to go for a swim?” Sam asked.

You nodded your head and took Sam’s hand as he led you outside.

Sam introduced you to a few people along the way, but no real conversation stimulated. Surprisingly, no one was in the pool. There were a few people outside, but no one was actually swimming. You stripped out of your shorts and Sam winked at you. You laughed and took his hand as he guided you in the pool.

“Fuck it’s cold.” You said as you submerged your legs.

“Aw Birdie, don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm.” Sam said, pulling you further in.

You giggled. “Sam!”

Then you’re almost all the way in. Sam grabs you by the waist and sits you on his lap as he squats in the shallow end. You wrap your legs around him and he keeps his hands on your waist.

“Told you I’ll keep you warm.” He says with a smile.

“Oh you’re too kind sir.” You jab.

“Sammy sweetheart right?” He jokes.

You laugh. “I never saw myself dating a comedian.”

You didn’t really even think about it before you said it.

A smirk spreads on Sam’s face. “Date huh?”

Your cheeks turn pink, but you don’t back down.

“Yeah.” You say, wrapping your hands behind his head.

“Now I like the sound of that.” Sam says, kissing your shoulder.

You bite your lip and your mind slips elsewhere when his lips touch your skin.

“Um, excuse me? PDA take it upstairs!”

You look up and see Danny grimacing in your direction.

You roll your eyes at your cousin.

He walks over and starts fumbling with the grill that’s next to the pool. “Josh! The grill is on. Tell Jake to get out here.”

You see Josh walking around with a cocktail, but nods his head to go retrieve his twin.

You decide to get off of Sam, but he halts you.

“Hold up baby. Let me adjust myself.” Sam says, almost in a whisper to you as he fixes the bulge in his shorts.

Right on cue Jake walks out and locks eyes with you still on top of Sam. He clenches his jaw and looks away. Well.

Jake heads to the grill and begins working on burgers and hotdogs for the party.

“Hey Jake, did you grab those veggie burgers I bought?” Sam asks.

Jake doesn’t look up from the grill or respond.

Sam makes a face. “Hello?” Then he cups his hands around his mouth. “Jake! Veggie burgers!”

Jake spins around. “No Sam I haven’t seen your fucking burgers.”

Sam sighs. “I’ll be back. I’m going to go grab our burgers and give them to captain pleasant while he has the grill on.”

You nod your head. The air is thick with tension when Sam leaves. But you nor Jake speak to each other. Jake lets out a snicker, but no words. You suck in your cheeks and let out a deep breath.

Well, this was awkward.

**

“Guys food is ready!” Josh yells.

You were sitting on a lounge chair with Sam, securing your spot for the fireworks.

“Hey I’ll go make our plates and get drinks. You stay here so no one steals our spot.” Sam says, rubbing your back.

You smile and nod your head, then Sam disappears. A few moments later Josh saunters by with Jake behind him.

“Birdie, you aren’t eating?” Josh asks with a puzzled expression on his face.

“No I am. Sam’s getting plates. I was instructed to save our spot.” You say, meekly.

Josh grins. “Aw Sam is making your plate. How cute. Danny and I are starting fireworks as soon as it’s dark. I’m excited to play with fire!”

Then Josh jets off. Jake pauses and looks at you. “So cute.” He says flatly, then follows his twin.

You take in a deep breath and close your eyes.

“All good?”

You open your eyes and Sam is back with plates in hand.

You give him a smile. “Yes, everything is great. Thank you for making my plate.”

He sits down next to you. “Of course babe.”

That made you feel warm inside. Sam kissed your cheek and you two ate while you waited for the show. It had just begun to turn into the beginning of dusk and you knew fireworks would follow shortly. You also knew Josh was itching to play with lighters. Sam laid back on the lounge chair with you in between his legs. You were laid back into him and his arms were wrapped around you. You felt comfortable, secure, and happy. You would stay wrapped in Sam’s arms forever if given the chance. Just then, you were jolted out of your thoughts when a flare of red shot up into the sky and sparkled.

“Woooooahhhhh.” Sam said, being a little cheeky.

You giggled. “Horrible for the environment, veterans, dogs, and generally all other creatures that don’t understand what’s going on. But yes, woah.”

Sam let out a laugh and rubbed your arm. “There’s my cynical girl.”

Then you caught a glimpse of Jake heading back towards the house.

“Jake!” Sam yelled.

No response.

“Hey Jake! Come watch with us!” Sam continued.

Jake threw his hand up and continued inside.

You could feel that Sam was furrowing his brows, even though he was behind you.

“The fuck is his problem?” Sam asks, with a hint of nastiness in his tone.

You swallow slightly hard and then shrug.

**

After the fireworks, a lot of people had cleared out. Only a few stragglers remained, and it seemed like they were just waiting on their rides. Josh was positively buzzed while simultaneously high on his firework display. You were currently sitting in the kitchen nursing a margarita with Sam by your side, listening to Josh ramble to the remaining guests. Jake and Danny were still cleaning up outside.

“Tired?” Sam asks, wrapping his arm around you.

You look up and nod.

“You better not be! The night is still young and we are playing poker!” Josh says, entirely too loud.

Sam groans and you sigh.

“No no none of that now! I’m going to grab the other two and I’ll meet you guys in the living room. Sam get the poker set from under the table.”

Then Josh pads off while the last of the guests exit. Sam takes your hand and leads you into the living room.

“One game.” He says, trying to reason with you.

You nod. “One game.”

Josh returns with the other two and they all plop down on the floor. Jake makes a point not to look at you, in fact he looks bored or annoyed.

“What kind of poker are we playing here?” Danny asks.

Josh lets a smirk creep up on his face. “Strip poker?”

Sam shakes his head. “I’m going to go ahead and veto that one.” Then he puts his hand on your leg.

Jake scoffs.

“You’re no fun Samuel. Texas hold ‘em it is then. Jake you’re dealing first.”

**

One game turned into about 6. Danny had won the most, he was a card shark.

“Okay okay I think we’re out.” Sam says, placing his cards down.

“Aw, how come?” Danny says with a laugh.

“We are ready to go to bed and I’m tired of getting my ass kicked.” Sam replies.

Josh whistles at that. “Uh oh! Try to keep the noise to a minimum please.”

Your face burns red at that. Jake crosses his arms.

“Didn’t need that visual, Josh.” Danny says lightly.

Sam takes your hand and leads you upstairs to his room. Already you feel as if a weight has been lifted off of you. It’s been so full of tension, but you persevered for Sam.

“Fuck.” Sam says with a chuckle sitting down on his bed.

You laughed and sat down next to him. “Tell me about it.”

Sam wrapped his arms around you. “Shall we have a shower?”

“Hmmmmm.” You contemplate. “I’m game but we have to be quiet, remember?”

Sam smirks at you. “Oh baby I’m going to have you screaming my name.”

You let out a laugh and lightly smack his chest. “Yeah right loverboy.”

“Okay, maybe just lightly moaning my name then?” He suggests, cheekily.

You get up and take your shorts off. “Maybe. If you work hard enough.”

Sam smiles at you and follows you into the bathroom, undressing himself as well. His mouth meets yours before the water is even turned on.

**

You awoke the next day wrapped in Sam’s arms. You smiled to yourself. You loved waking up this way. Sam was still peacefully sleeping, but woke up when you began to stir.

“Good morning, beautiful.” Sam said, in the raspiest voice you had ever heard. Then he planted a small kiss on your jaw. Your heart swelled at that.

“Morning Sammy.” You say softly.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks.

You nod your head. “I did. Did you?”

He grins. “Best sleep of my life.”

“You’re so cheesy.” You say, joking while getting up.

“I’m going to pee and brush my teeth. Do we have plans today?” You say stretching.

Sam eyes your body before responding. “Babe, we always have plans.”

You let out a laugh. “Thought so.”

When you came out Sam went in. He needed to shower, so you decided to get dressed. You threw on a black tank top with the same shorts and sandals from yesterday. Then you slapped some makeup on your face and decided to go find Danny. But, to your dismay when you came down the stairs all you saw was Jake sitting at the counter with a mug.

You chewed on your lip for a bit before finally deciding to say, “Morning.”

Jake glanced up at you. “Morning.” He replied flatly.

It was quiet for a few minutes and you were plotting ways to get out of this situation, but then Jake spoke again.

“Coffee?”

It was good he was talking to you, you guessed.

You shook your head. “No thanks. I think we’re about to go get breakfast.”

Jake looks at you blankly before letting out a snarky laugh. “Right.”

You were annoyed with his attitude. He had no right to be acting like this, and you were about to let him know.

“You know Jake you don’t have to be such a fuckin-“

“Ready babe?” Sam cuts in, entering the kitchen.

You take a small breath and smile. “Yes.”

Jake smirks at you and raises his mug.

Asshole.

You walk over to Sam and grab his arm while he leads you to his car. Your inkling was correct when you pulled up outside of a pancake house. Sam grabbed your hand and took you inside to your table.

“So.” You say, sitting down.

“So.” Sam replies back.

“Did you have fun last night?” You ask.

Sam smiles brightly. “Oh I had a lot of fun last night baby.”

You snicker at that. “No I didn’t mean that. I meant at the party.”

Sam shrugs. “Yeah I guess so. I wouldn’t say I’m the most patriotic guy out there, but the red, white, and blue shots were damn good.”

“I know what you mean.” You say through a chuckle.

“Jake seemed weird though.” Sam said, grabbing his coffee.

You felt your blood run cold a bit at that, you have no idea what to say so you just nod.

Sam looks at you. “I mean I’m not crazy right? He did seem like something crawled up his ass last night.”

“Yeah, I noticed too.” You say.

Sam nods his head. “Oh well. He’s probably just weirded out about us. But I’ve got to say, they all took the news pretty good. Josh was annoying, but that was to be expected.”

“Feels good just to get it out there. Not have to hide or keep some big secret.” You say.

Sam smiles at you. “Birdie, are you getting soft on me?”

“Never.” You reply back with a smirk.

**

After breakfast Sam took you home. You two spent the day cuddled up on your couch watching movies. Then Sam put on some records and you two cooked dinner and baked cookies. While the cookies were in the oven Sam slow danced with you in your kitchen to John Denver. It was a perfect day. One of your favorite days. That night you couldn’t sleep though.

You glanced over at Sam. He was sleeping so peacefully. He was so beautiful, inside and out. You wished you could engrave this view into your brain forever.

You weren’t sure why you felt this impending doom sensation in your chest. You were prone to self sabotage, but you didn’t want Sam to go anywhere- ever. He made you happy, deeply happy. But there was that part of you that still deep down felt something for Jake. You weren’t sure what that something was, and it wasn’t close to being on the same caliber as to what you felt for Sam, but it was there. You let out a small sigh and stared at the ceiling until you had fallen asleep.

The sensation of impending doom had faded.

Eventually you would find out why it was there.

But that’s a story for another day.

***

• the next chapter is…. well just buckle up!!

#greta van fic #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #jake gvf #jake kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #sam gvf #sam kiszka #sam kiszka x reader #the moon #gvf fic #gvf series #sam kiszka gvf #gvf #sammy gvf #gvf smut

[void-botanist]

♾️ LETS GOOOOOO

— @outpost51

I added a bunch of stuff to my general rock playlist and my first shuffle song was Take It Easy by the Eagles.

I was like, maybe this challenge will help me get going on my Camp NaNo words for Nicea. Instead I wrote more Avis and Sorian, so here you and @vacantgodling go.

━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━

She didn’t want to drink alone, but her options were limited. Sid would be too busy living his life again to even be home, and he probably wouldn’t shut up about Horatio anyway. Leon and Edith were probably fun drunks, but with the same problem of having too much to say about their son, and the added danger of propositioning her. Celia and her two-timer weren’t her speed—and Celia didn’t drink, anyway. She tried to think of literally anyone else on the island she knew well enough to take a shot with, and came up with only one. Maybe she should have just gone to a bar. With a sigh, she packed the bottle of whiskey into her backpack and set out from the dock.

The walk up to the outskirts of the university was mostly paved, but almost always empty, especially at this time of day when the only light was from the streetlamps flanking the sidewalk. This was kind of pathetic. Despite the fact that Sorian was usually a goofy drunk, she didn’t really want to be having a drink with him. He was just the only one around to share her extremely choice liquor. Honestly, who the hell just had a brand new bottle of Salmon Leap in the cabinet? She believed Sid that Horatio hadn’t bought it in advance, but still. It was good shit, and she wasn’t convinced she should have accepted it. Not least because now she was standing on Sorian’s doorstep, banging on the unpainted wood of his door.

Maybe he knew it was her, because he wasn’t wearing sweatpants when he opened the door this time.

“You want a drink?” she asked.

“Ah, I was planning on staying in tonight.”

That was enough of a yes. She pushed past him into his boring little house and put her bag up on the counter at the back before she slipped off her shoes. He just closed the door and drifted over to her. Extracting the flat, rectangular bottle from her bag, she sat it on the counter and tossed her otherwise empty backpack over onto her shoes.

“Wait, is that…?” Sorian asked, taking the bottle in his hands while she looked through his cabinets for glasses. Before she could even answer, he said, “Oh, wow, I’ve been wanting to try this since Leon got Horatio some. He still hasn’t…never mind.” He put the bottle back down and went straight to the next cabinet on her docket to pull out two actual snifter glasses.

“So you’re pretentious about whiskey now?”

“It’s not pretentious. It actually makes it better.” Even with the glasses on the countertop he seemed to be waiting for her to open the bottle. As she went back to it, he added, “But you can have yours in a mug with half a berry slushy if you want.”

Of course he remembered that. She smiled a little despite herself as she tipped the bottle toward the first glass, then paused. “Since your fancy way is so much better, do you wanna pour it?”

“I think you can pour it just fine,” he said, but still took it from her when she offered it to him. He poured it in what looked like a completely normal fashion, then put the cork back in the bottle. Leaning back against the counter, he lifted one glass to his nose. Avis imitated him, not bothering to keep the skepticism off her face. But he was giving the other side of the kitchen a thousand-yard stare.

“Fuck,” he said softly. “Smells like home.”

She’d forgotten that she was actually supposed to be sniffing the stuff. He was right though—the fumes had a clear note of jojum blossom, like the air on Imni during the subtle change from spring to summer. For a second, it felt cozy. Then she was done with this sniff and sip bullshit. She was here to be intoxicated, not to think. While Sorian took a sip, she drank down however much he’d given her. It was enough to get the flavor of it, and enough that everything should stop feeling so serious in a few minutes.

He raised an eyebrow at her as she poured herself the same again.

She waved him away. “Shut up with your eyebrows. I’ll drink this one slower.”

He grinned and took another sip.

Taking stock of his living room, she found that nothing had changed since the last time she was there, which meant his bar stools were absent and there was nowhere to sit that didn’t look gross or busted. “Don’t you have anywhere nice to sit?”

“My truck, I guess.”

She gestured for him to lead her there. He put down his glass to slip on his shoes by the back door, and she did the same. Then he brought her out to the dimly lit silhouette of his shortbed university pickup truck. When he reached for the driver’s side door, he almost immediately turned back toward his house.

“Forgot my keys,” he said.

As he passed her, she unlatched the tailgate, then eased it down and hopped up onto it, letting her legs dangle off the end. “This is fine.”

He looked unconvinced but came to join her, still keeping that careful distance between them. “How is the tailgate of my work truck less dirty than my indoor sofa?”

“Trust me, your sofa wishes it was only as dirty as actual dirt.”

Sorian laughed his soft laugh and she felt like the warm ease of the whiskey was spreading through her faster. Sipping from her glass, she leaned back and drank in the mostly-familiar sky with its white-tinted moon. Even without the smell of jojum blossoms in this sticky Summer Band night, even sitting next to the man she used to call her husband, she had the inexplicable sense that she was already home.

#reminder that they are on Rade and there are climate 'bands' where it is basically permanently one season #they are from an island in the Autumn Band but this is the Summer Band #and two-timer means shifter not traitor #they're also not divorced - just good as #but anyway UGH I love these two losers #I have so many feelings about them. Avis would like to have less feelings tho please #Avis is convinced the sofa used to be the kind of place college students would do quickies. Sorian cannot convince her otherwise #gonna attempt another shuffle for Nicea lol #rose writ #infinity song ask game #ask games #c: Avis #c: Sorian #wip: aom #ss: salmon leap

[miekasa]

do you have any cute (or h-word) bf headcanons for the Aot boys mie?

Of course I do, I have an ever-expanding list of headcanons for all of them, from how they react to you sitting in the backseat when they pick you up, down to whether or not they would rip your bandages off after your get a shot (spoiler: Eren, Porco, and Levi fucking would)

EREN sfw

He really likes holding hands, though it’s more of a calming habit for him. Holding hands keeps him grounded, and acts as an anchor for his anxiety; so he’ll grab and/or fidget with yours periodically.

He’ll steal your skincare if he’s over at your place, but honestly he just starts… copying it lmfao. Like, he’ll take notice of your face wash when he’s over he’s like “Oh, this is nice” and then a week later, he buys a bottle for himself. Then he buys your toner, and your moisturizer, and you stay over at his place and gotta do a double take bc he’s got damn near the same of everything at this point.

He doesn’t know if he believes that classical music actually helps him to concentrate, but he does know that he’s grown to like it, so it’s become his studying music of choice. He’s got favorite composers and everything.

He’d be upset if you didn’t steal his hoodies. That’s what they’re there for. He’ll make you steal them if he has to.

He hates standing in line. For anything. If he likes a restaurant that gets super busy at lunch, he’ll order ahead for pickup (and he feels special skipping the line). At amusement parks, he pays for the fast passes. If it’s shopping, then he’d rather just do it online.

On that note, he sucks at returning things that don’t fit/he doesn’t like when he shops online, so he honestly just keeps them, or gives them to his friends—it’s much easier than going through the hassle of printing a return label, according to him.

nsfw

He likes the idea of recording you guys during sex, but he’s honestly a little too nervous to do it—nervous about being recorded himself, and about it potentially getting out somewhere.

Likes it when you look him in the eyes when you cum. In fact, he somewhat demands it.

Similarly, he’s always watching you during sex. Mostly your face, for indications of how he’s making you feel and when you’re close to your orgasm (which is why he’s got a thing for you looking at him).

He used to hate masturbating, until he tried masturbating to the idea of you, and now he fucking loves that. He takes his time with it too—if he’s gonna jack off, he’s gonna make a moment of it: sit on his bed, turn the lights off, make sure he’s all alone and can go for as long as he wants.

Threesomes are fine with him, and he doesn’t even have to be the sole one in charge, depending on who’s joining you.

ARMIN sfw

He air-dries the majority of his clothes because he doesn’t want his sweaters and knitwear to shrink. Also, he likes the smell of his fabric softener permeating the room while the clothes dry.

On a similar note, he’s got sensitive skin—not to the point where a shirt less than 75% cotton irritates him; but he is conscious of fabrics and products he uses. Because of this, he takes extra care with his laundry, his pillowcases and bedsheets are satin as are the majority of his pajama shirts, and he never ever walks around without house slippers or he’ll irritate the bottom of his feet.

He’s scared of bugs, but he doesn’t like to kill them either. Honestly, he just kinda hopes spiders and stuff will crawl away without him intervening 😭😭

He likes board games, and has a thing for The Game of Life. He cannot play chess, even though most people would guess that he could, and he’s begun to practice by playing online versions against computers to learn.

He knows everyone’s gossip because everyone comes to him to gossip. And if he’s the therapist friend, then you’re the person who receives the summary of all the tea from him at the end of the week. And man can this boy throw a bitch fest when he’s in the right mood.

nsfw

He’s got a bit of an oral fixation, so he really likes having your mouth occupied; with his fingers, with your panties, with his dick—he’s not really picky.

Likes sex with the lights on. Claims it’s because he wants to “see all of you” (it’s really because he’s nervous he’ll fuck something up if he can’t see properly 😭😭)

He really likes making out. Like, a lot. Though it’s not something that happens often—so he builds up a lot of frustrating thinking about it, and it all comes crashing down, and ends up with you guys damn near dry humping each other on the couch for two hours.

That’s something that applies to him generally, too—he tends to let himself get very frustrated and worked up, whether he means to or not. He also thinks about sex quite frequently, and it only fuels his frustration; so when he snaps, he snaps hard.

He’d let you choke him back if you asked. Just ask nicely.

JEAN sfw

Loves studying in cafés and adores when you study with him; peeps up at you periodically when you sit across from him. He always pays for your drink, but sometimes you guys share, and he likes making a game out of reaching for the cup at the same time as you.

He’s very chivalrous, but he hates when you call him out for it, or make any kind of deal of it. He knows it’s chivalry, but he also knows it’s the bare minimum, plus he’s easily embarrassed—especially in public.

Loves having his hair played with, absolutely adores it. If you’re just holding his face, or resting your hand on his cheek, he’ll move himself further into your touch to maneuver your palm closer to his hair.

He really really really likes back hugs—giving and receiving them. If he’s standing behind you, he’ll most likely reach for a hug at some point (sometimes he won’t let go and you’ve gotta waddle with him on you). His ears get red when you give him a back hug but he always uses a hand to rest over your arms to tell you that he doesn’t want you to let go.

He can play the piano, but he doesn’t tell a soul about it. The only reason you found out it through his mom. He’s got stage fright, so he gave up on performing, but he’s really talented, and can almost play any song by ear.

nsfw

He loves the feeling of your hands on him, particularly if you’ve got long nails. Please scrape your nails against his back, or even just dig them into his biceps while he’s fucking you, it’ll drive him insane.

Along with liking having his hair played with, he adores having it pulled on—the attention and desperation in your actions goes straight to his ego and his dick.

One of his biggest fantasies is getting a lap dance from you. He’d never ever fucking say it out loud or dream of asking for it, but the idea of you stripping in front of him, down to lingerie he’d picked out for you, and teasing him until he can’t take it anymore and jumps you is something he thinks about… far more often than he should.

If you’re wearing his clothes (especially one of his t-shirts to bed, or around his apartment), he’s gonna fuck you in it. Jean has a lot of self control, but that’s one thing that’ll make him snap in an instant. And if you wear his shirt or hoodie out, he’s fucking you when you get home, it’s as simple as that.

CONNIE sfw

He studies with children’s shows playing the background. He doesn’t remember how he discovered that his method works for him, all he knows is that something about Paw Patrol makes for excellent background noise for writing his research papers.

He’s quite touchy with PDA, but if you guys are in a crowd then forget about it—because Connie might forget about you. He’s definitely left you at the grocery store before.

He eats cereal for breakfast every morning, and he’s kind of got a collection of them in his kitchen. He claims there are upscale cereals that he doesn’t just let anybody eat or even touch; so, if he offers you a midnight snack consisting of a bowl of his favorite (and very rare) cereal, then be honored.

He almost always pays with cash, but he hates change. If he gets back coins, he either tells the cashier to keep them, puts them in a tip jar if there’s one in sight, or just pours them into your coat pocket. He understands that its money, but he’ll be damned if he’s just got a sack full of nickels clanging around in his bag.

nsfw

He claims he doesn’t have a thing for exhibitionism, but with the way he’s down to fuck damn near anywhere, he might be a bold faced liar. Changing rooms, music festivals, airport bathrooms, the little corner of the multilevel parking lot that he’s oh-so-certain is in the blindspot of the security cameras... there are so few things off-limits with him.

Car sex on his bucket list… just not in his car lmfao (because trust and believe that’s something that already happens pretty regularly). Maybe his real kink is vandalism and destruction of property.

He is not above begging you to sit on his face. He will get on his knees and pant like a fucking dog for you to do it, he’s so serious. He’ll do it laying down, he’ll do it with you standing up/against a wall, he’ll do it on the couch. Break his neck please he’s fucking asking for it.

He doesn’t mind sharing and he definitely doesn’t mind watching. Honestly, he’d egg you on to kiss someone else at a party, or go as far as to seduce you into seducing someone else just so he can watch it go down.

PORCO sfw

He sends you iMessage games but only the ones he’s good at because he doesn’t like to lose. But also, if he is losing, he doesn’t want you to be supportive about it and tell him “it’s okay uwu” lmfao he wants to either cream you, or have you kick his ass; competition is the name of the game, don’t be soft on him.

He’s a morning person, and he likes going on runs or even just early-morning walks when the weather is nice. He will wake you up occasionally to join him—and if you’re a homebody, you will be joining him. He won’t be responsible for watching you decompose on the couch.

Very picky about his pizza. It’s not a calorie or grease or health thing—he just really fucking likes pizza, and he won’t excuse a bad slice.

Always pulls you closer to him in a crowd or when a group of people are walking by. He doesn’t have to, but he likes to. Tease him about it and he’ll push you right back tho, probably into a shrub if there’s one near by.

nsfw

He’s such a “No, no—answer the call” kind of mf; a sadist, if you will. He lives for torturing and embarrassing you, and that applies to sex, too.

Loves the way his hands look on you, particularly splaying his hand over your stomach when he’s fucking you. Likes the heat of your body against his, when he positions himself just right to feel the outline of his dick against you, and squeezing the sides of your tummy when he gets lost in it.

Loves blowjobs, and loves to cum on you or over your face. His favorite thing tho is pulling away just before he’s about to orgasm, and jacking himself off with your tongue sticking out, ready to swallow.

Okay with threesomes, too; but he wouldn’t like to do much to or with the third person. It’s okay if they touch you—maybe even fuck you, depending on who it is—but he’s not there to get them off.

LEVI

sfw

When he cooks dinner, he always makes sure to make enough for you to have leftovers to take with you for lunch the following day. Especially if it’s a dish you’ve been wanting or try, or specifically asked him to cook.

He’s got a specific tote bag he brings with him to the grocery store/farmer’s market, and separate one for when he’s running other light errands.

He hates soda, not even just because it’s not the healthiest thing to drink—he just doesn’t like the feel of carbonated drinks; the only exception being when they’re mixed with liquor, but even then, it’s not his preference.

After a while, he just starts lying and says you’re married at places where it benefits you both, or to curb a longer conversation about the status of your relationship to people who are inquiring. He thinks it’s fucking weird that marriage is what shuts people up, but if it works, it works; less people prying in your guys’ business.

He likes giving you forehead kisses, and if you do it back, he’ll learn that he doesn’t mind receiving them either.

He’s such a sucker for you rubbing your thumb against the back of his hand when you guys hold hands. He might not act like he notices, but he always does; and somewhat craves little touches like that the longer you guys are together.

nsfw

He would never admit it to anyone, but birthday sex is up there for his favorite kind of sex. He never cared much about his birthday… until he realized he could get that as a gift. He knows it’s not different, but he likes it, nonetheless; one the few times he doesn’t mind having all the attention on him.

King of aftercare, though some of his methods usually lead to another round—in which he teases you for cancelling out his work, when you know he was just as willing and eager.

He likes edging himself and overstimulating you; and with his self-control, that makes for a pretty dangerous combination.

He’s strong and he knows how to use it to his advantage: maneuvering you with a single arm, holding both your wrists above your head with one hand, pushing your head down into the sheets when he’s fucking you from behind.

Sex is one of the few times Levi doesn’t mind making a mess—and in fact, he likes it messy; watching you drip onto the sheets, making you spit on his dick and fucking your face until you drool. He always goes on about how sloppy you are, how you can’t keep anything clean, but he fucking loves it.

#anonymous #i love writing but i hate tagging things here we go #eren x reader #aot x reader #levi x reader #armin x reader #porco galliard x reader #jean x reader #jean kirstein x reader #connie springer x reader #eren smut #levi smut #eren yeager x reader #alright that's enough

[peakyblindersxx]

come home with me - finn shelby x reader

a/n: you have @michaelgreys to thank for this one (& the gif!!! check her out she's amazing). s5 finn cause god damn!!1 i honestly dont have much to say about this one other than it's definitely self indulgent and not even god can help me at this point. i'm working on p4 to whiskey buisness rn as well as some requests, thank you for all the sweet comments!!

love, abi xxx

my masterlist

prompt: finn hates you so much he might want to fuck you.

warnings: nsfw!! smut, pretty fluffy cause he's baby 🥺

Working for the Shelby Company wasn’t difficult, except for one thing: Finn Shelby. You were one of the many secretaries, in charge of conveying messages, filing papers, and many other important things, such as making sure the glass decanter of whiskey sitting on the bar cart in Tommy’s office was never empty. It wasn’t a very taxing job, but Finn went out of his way to get under your skin in every way he could. Maybe it was the fact that you wouldn’t back down, having a quick retort to anything close to disrespectful that he said to you. The other brothers never said a thing to intervene, Arthur even telling you he was glad you had a backbone.

“Finn’s a cocky thing, eh? Too cocky for his own good. A girl like you’ll put ‘im in his place,” he had slurred, while you collected the letters he’d asked you to mail.

“Dunno, Mr. Shelby,” you’d mused. “Seems like he’s got some sort of problem with me.”

“Don’t even bother with that, he’s just an arrogant fuck. Probably got some sort of crush on you an’ is too shy to do shit about it. You know, first time he fucked a whore, he said sorry,” Arthur grunted. You’d chalked up his admissions to the half empty bottle of whiskey that he was clutching and the light dusting of snow on his right nostril. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder if the looks Finn shot your way, though seemingly out of irritation, meant something more. You couldn’t lie, you’d thought about what it’d be like to feel the youngest Shelby brother’s bow-shaped lips on your neck, his hands on your waist. It couldn’t be true, you resolved; Arthur was just wasted and you were delusional.

Monday came, and Tommy had asked you to work in the betting shop for the next few weeks. “Make sure Finn’s not fucking up,” he had grunted, taking a long drag of his cigarette, clear blue eyes barely leaving the stacks of paper that littered his massive desk. Of course you’d agreed, but you were nervous. Something about it made your heart beat faster in your chest. You took a shot of whiskey before you left, hoping the dark liquor would help calm your nerves. Isaiah insisted on accompanying you, telling you there were too many people that didn’t like them around there and to make sure someone was always with you for the next few weeks. You were grateful for his presence, the jokes he cracked easing your mind as the two of you walked briskly along the cobblestone streets. It didn’t take long to get there, Isaiah holding the door open for you as the warm air inside the betting office washed over you. Finn turned to see who it was, a scowl tugging at the edges of his mouth once he saw you.

“Why the fuck is she here,” he drawled, sitting at his desk with his feet up, a half-finished cigarette dangling from his fingertips. As much as you hated to admit it, he looked fucking good, hair neatly combed back, smelling of expensive cologne in a pressed navy blue suit. He was tall, legs stretching across the desk as he sent a glare in your direction, you rolling your eyes in response.

“Tommy said,” Isaiah interjected, sensing the tension in the air. “He said you said you needed more help, or somethin’.”

“Fuckin’ christ,” Finn mumbled, taking a drag from his cigarette before putting it out on the crystal ashtray that sat on his desk, standing to grab a stack of books from one of the shelves behind him.

“Jesus, it’s like I’m the fucking plauge or something,” you retorted, Isaiah stifling his chuckle as he looked anywhere but at the two of you. Finn ignored you, instead setting the pile of books on his desk.

“Come look at this, before I change my mind,” he said, instead. You obliged, walking behind his desk to see what he was gesturing to as Isaiah excused himself, something about “gettin’ fucking plastered, mate!” Finn was easily a head taller than you, so he practically towered over you, engulfing you in a cloud of his intoxicating cologne as you stood so close to him that you could practically feel the heat emanating from his body.

“So, these are the bets, and those are the outcomes,” he explained, arm brushing against your body slightly as he pointed to the different columns written out in the log. To your chagrin, your skin prickled in response, your body unable to control itself. Yet, you pushed it down, not wanting to give Finn the satisfaction of knowing that you wanted him. God knows he’d hold it against you forever. What he was explaining was simple enough, and you were able to grasp it fairly quickly. He was all business, handing you the logs he needed you to double check, as you sank into the desk adjacent to his, pouring over the books and coming to him to confirm small corrections.

However, after a couple of drinks of whiskey (some of which you admittedly consumed), Finn started talking. Small things, like how irritating Tommy was or how much they’d made off a certain horse. He’d never opened up to you like this; it was always a snide remark that usually set off an argument, since the two of you were fairly hot-headed. This time, it was different. Finn was still looking at you, but with slightly rosy cheeks and a smile threatening to spread across his face every time you made a witty remark. This time, you liked the way he was looking at you.

***

Two thirds of a bottle later, you were both on the floor in front of the fire, laughing at something Finn had said. Admittedly, he had said it just to see you laugh. He liked when you laughed, he realized. It was much better than the irritated look on your face that he usually saw. In all honesty, it was probably his fault, he thought to himself. Maybe it was the whiskey talking, but he really wanted to see you smile for the rest of his life. You sat next to him, shoulders brushing as the two of you talked, your jacket long abandoned, revealing the flimsy straps of the black lace dress. You looked so fucking pretty, he couldn’t help himself.

“You’re fucking beautiful, you know that, right? Always wondered why you hung ‘round us lot, bunch of mean fuckers.” The words fell out of his mouth, hovering in the air between the two of you. You stared at him, slightly taken aback, but the liquor was doing the talking for both of you, it seemed.

“Look who’s fucking talking. Half the girls in Brum would gladly fuck you, even just for a night.”

Finn paused, lighting a cigarette and offering you a drag.“What about you?”

You accepted, taking a puff before passing it back. “What about me?”

He cracked a grin. “Would you fuck me?”

His bluntness took you aback, but you were too far gone to think properly. “Maybe,” you admitted, a coy smile playing at your lips. Finn’s eyes darkened, closing the distance between the two of you until his body was almost touching yours, the tension between you crackling like the fire just a few feet away.

“What about now?” he muttered, lips brushing ever so slightly against your neck, causing you to shiver. He noticed, his hands finding the curve of your hips, searing through your dress. You couldn’t help but tilt your neck back slightly, a gasp leaving your lips as Finn pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your skin.

“Finn,” you moaned quietly, the smile on his lips growing wider as his hands fiddled with the hem of your dress, fingertips sliding underneath to grip lightly at the soft skin of your thighs. “Fuckin’ do something already, christ.”

Finn grinned. “Always got a fuckin’ mouth on you, eh? You’re lucky I find that attractive,” he teased. You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, his fingers found your silk panties, pushing them to the side to rub lightly against your clit, causing you to jolt in pleasure. You were already wet, to Finn’s satisfaction, and he had no trouble pushing a finger inside of you. The moans that were leaving your mouth were sinful, and he savored each one, watching the way you squirmed when he added another, curling them inside of you.

“Look so goddamn pretty, stuffed full of my fingers,” he crooned, sending your eyes rolling back in your head, eyelashes fluttering.

“Finn, please,” you whined, his nimble fingers deftly unzipping your dress and sliding it off, leaving you in your black silk bra and panties. Finn paused, taking a second to drink you in before pressing his lips to yours. They were softer than you could have imagined, hands gripping at your waist as he tugged at your bottom lip for access. You let him in, melting at his touch like butter.

“Want you inside me,” you mumbled against his lips, causing his muscles to stiffen as he sprang into action, pulling you on top of him, lining his already hard cock up with you. He was big, and if you weren’t already so ready for him, you might have been a little nervous. He slowly pushed inside of you, helping you sink down on top of him with one hand as he swore under his breath, using his other hand to unhook your bra, throwing it to the side and exposing your breasts to the cool air, nipples hardening at his touch.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Finn growled, unable to resist from taking one of them into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth. The sound you made in response was pathetic, but fuck if it wasn’t fueling his appetite for you. He couldn’t help but push up into you, a tight grip on your hipbones, holding you up as he rammed into you, cock pressing up against your g-spot, sending your vision spinning.

“Fuck, Finn, m’gonna cum,” you cried, eyes sqeezed shut, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of pleasure he was giving you. Finn grunted, somehow increasing his pace, pressing kisses to wherever he could.

“Go ahead darlin’, want you to cum all over my cock,” he cajoled, the words sending waves of pleasure through you. You couldn’t help but follow his orders, colors flickering across your eyesight. The image of you cumming just for him sent Finn over the edge, groaning your name as he finished inside of you, dripping down the inside of your thighs. You looked so fucking angelic in the firelight, he had the sudden urge to take care of you.

“Y’alright?” He asked, reaching for a rag to clean you up. You nodded, smiling softly down at him as he couldn’t help but press a kiss to your hipbone. He looked up at you, eyes full of adoration.

“Come home with me?” Finn murmured, hands fidgeting.

“Yeah,” you replied, a glow tinging your cheeks as you looked at him the same. “Let’s go home.”

#finn shelby imagine #finn shelby smut #peaky blinders imagine #finn shelby x reader #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders x reader #finn shelby x y/n

[ghost-party]

happy valentines day!! can i request office sukuna and the prompt defend or care 💖 im a sucker for him

Of course! 😊 I know I haven’t written much for him lately, but he’s still one of my favorites.

I went with Defend because protective Sukuna… YES. I couldn’t resist.

Warnings: female reader, alcohol, swearing, references to bullying

High school reunions have never been your thing. You’ve kept in touch with a few friends, but that’s it. The idea of socializing with old classmates you haven’t spoken to in years is… well, unpleasant.

The only reason you’re here is that, by some strange coincidence, the bar that was chosen to host the event was none other than the one Sukuna works at every weekend.

His steady, familiar presence has kept you planted firmly on your stool, idly stirring your rum and Coke, hoping you’ll suddenly gain the ability to turn invisible.

“My shift’s over in half an hour,” your boyfriend reminds you while pouring shots for a gaggle of former cheerleaders making eyes at him from further down the bar.

Unlike during work hours, his arms are bare, tattoos on full display. It’s the middle of summer, so he’s opted for a cut-off black t-shirt that leaves little to the imagination. Every time he reaches for a bottle or mixes a drink, his arms flex, and even you have a hard time not staring.

“We can get out of here. Maybe grab some dinner, head over to my place.”

You tap at your phone. Half an hour. You can make it that long, right? It’s not like it’s been terrible. You chatted with a few people you knew from the clubs you were in and endured a few painful conversations with drunk student council members. All in all, not the worst.

“Yeah, that sounds —”

“Holy shit!” You’re startled by a loud, somewhat slurred voice right behind you. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

Sukuna’s brow creases as a tall blond man closes in on you, leaning in so close, you can smell the cheap beer on his breath. “Remember me? Justin? Damn, we had some good times back in the day…”

Is he serious? “Oh yeah,” you deadpan, trying to shake off your nerves and muster as much defensive sarcasm as you can. “Getting bullied by you was so much fun.”

Out of the corner of your eye, Sukuna’s grip tightens on the pint glass he’s holding. But the man leaning beside you laughs, loud enough to turn people’s heads.

“Aw, come on. Learn to take a joke. I never meant anything by it.”

Justin smiles, his hand creeping closer to your thigh. “Honestly? I always thought you were kinda hot... Figured you might like the attention back then, but maybe now…”

“Hey.” Sukuna’s voice is sharp. “Back off.”

“Huh? You serious, man?” Justin’s lazy smile has vanished, and instead, he looks confused and more than a little agitated. “It’s none of your business.”

He makes the mistake of turning his attention back to you, missing the flash of movement as Sukuna rounds the bar.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” He steps between you and your former classmate, his whole body tense with anger. “Back the fuck off.”

“What’s your problem?” Justin straightens up but balks slightly when he realizes Sukuna is a few inches taller.

“You bullied my girlfriend and now you want to get into her pants? Don’t make me fucking laugh.” Sukuna sneers, taking a step forward.

Justin staggers back, wide-eyed. “Wait, you two are —”

“Oh, that actually got through your thick skull? Good. You’re not a complete idiot.”

Sukuna grabs the front of Justin’s t-shirt, clenching his fist, and the other man actually whimpers.

“Try to touch her again, and I’ll break your fingers,” he murmurs, voice low.

Justin stammers, looking at you over Sukuna’s shoulder, “What, are you dating a — a gangster or something?”

Sukuna releases him with a shove, wiping his hand on his jeans like he just touched something foul. “I’m a marketing specialist, dickbag.”

The younger man practically runs to the back of the bar, and you can hear his friends laughing at his expense. “Dude, you looked like you were gonna piss yourself!”

Blinking up at Sukuna, you watch as his shoulders slowly relax. When he turns to look at you, his gaze is fierce but worried. “You okay?”

“All thanks to my corporate gangster.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m never going to hear the end of that, am I?”

You grin. “Nope. Grumpy office worker by day, studly bodyguard by night… I might just swoon.”

He huffs out a laugh and flags down Choso, who’s working the bar with him. “I’m gonna take off early. Can you handle things ‘til Toji gets here?”

Choso, who never says much but has always been kind to you, nods and waves you off as the two of you step outside.

“I’m glad you didn’t actually get into a fight,” you admit, breathing in the balmy evening air.

“Why? I would’ve won.”

“Call me crazy, but I’m in the mood for a quiet night in — not taking you to urgent care to get something stitched.”

Sukuna chuckles. “Fair enough…” He drapes an arm over your shoulders. “Do you think your classmates were surprised, that you’re with someone like me?”

“I didn’t really date in high school, so… maybe.” You glance at him, taking in the bold, black tattoos, the piercings he only wears on the weekends, the perpetually-mischievous tilt to his lips.

“If they only knew how soft you really are.”

He hums, amused. “You swore you’d never tell.”

“Don’t worry.” You turn and press a kiss to his cheek. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

#ask box #so in love event 💌 #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #au sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#254

"Well lookie here. I have my captain kneeling completely naked in front of me, eagerly wanting to submit to me and my hose. You ready to be my cunt? I see you follow orders, shaved from the nose down. I knew just how much you want this when I saw your beard you’ve had for years now was gone this morning. I can tell you want this so fucking bad. I just didn’t know you had wanted me for so many years….

“When I caught you on my hidden camera stealing my jocks from my locker, I thought you did it to all the guys here. I didn’t realize just how much of a stalker you were until I read your e-mail. When I asked you how long this has been going on, I was referring to the jock snatching. I wasn’t expecting a two-thousand-word history of you stalking me for the past twelve years. It’s extra creepy to find out that on my trip to California, that you had your friend follow me around and hit on me at the baths. If you wanted my fat cock that much, you could have just asked. I would have been fucking you two or three times a week. Instead, whenever I would get horned up from being around all these beefy men for too long, I had to go into the toilet and toss one off.

“I bet you want to see it. Don’t you? I mean you’ve seen it before, at the urinals, but never hard. Your friend sure has. So you know I am big I truly am. Fuck, you couldn’t stop talking about it in your write-up. And you are already salivating at my stripping to my skivvies. My briefs show a big ol’ package. I never try to hide it. I’ve been wearing these briefs for five days now, ever since I confronted you about stealing from my locker.

“See all those piss stains? There are a few loads too. I figure that a cunt that’s been lusting after me all these years is going to do whatever the fuck I want. Right now, that includes drinking some of my piss. But first grind your face into my pouch; I want you to feel the monster that is going to be the center of your universe. With the focus on my big dick, you probably didn’t notice I have balls to match. They need to be drained frequently.

“Go ahead and pull down the briefs, slowly. Take a moment to smell the piss, the stale cum, and the sweat. That’s better than any poppers out there. Pull them all the way down, and hand them to me…. Whew! I stink.

“Hands behind your back. Now with just the tip of your tongue, I want you to guide just my dickhead into your mouth. Do not suck. Do not take more of my shaft. You will be doing both later. Right now, I need to take a piss. Close your mouth around the head and start drinking. I have a full bladder, and I know how to control the flow.

“Oh, fuck this feels good. You’ve drank piss before. Nice tongue action too. I will be using that tongue for a nastier place later. I take it from your moan that you eat ass? Good. I will be using your mouth as my urinal from this day forward. I am not passing up a talented mouth.

“Pull off. I said pull off. I have a lot of piss for you, and I will be spreading it out. It’s a good thing that you were able to get the firehouse cleared out for the rest of the night. Being captain will have its advantages.

“Stand up and over to the bench…. Wait! Holy shit! Ha! Oh my fucking god. That is one tiny needle of a dick. Jesus! What the hell do you do with that? You certainly can’t use it to fuck. How long is it? I mean it is rock hard and it can’t be three inches at most!... What was that? Two and a half? No wonder your ex-wife left you last year for Davies over at the 9th. Don’t look surprised, we all knew she did. None of us knew about this.

“Trust me, your little clit will never be needed around me. In fact, I don’t want to think about it; don’t want to see it either. I mean look at the difference between yours and mine. It’s a goddamned laugh riot.

“I may only be about 7 inches long, but between 8 and 9 inches around. I have met many men that are longer, but I have never met one who is thicker. We’ll need to get a pic of yours being dwarfed by mine later.

“But first, my cock has wrecked many throats, and it has destroyed many ass cunts. Yours is next. I have something for you to put on. Here are ankle and wrist cuffs. Cunts like you have big eyes and small twats…. Good! Now on the bench face down…. With a couple of D-clamps, you ain’t going to be using your arms and legs too much. Struggling is good, but nothing is going to stop my tree trunk impaling your cunt.

“Open your mouth. Remember my rank briefs. You can suck on them now. That wad doesn’t come out until I say it does, you got that? You are giving me a sour look, like you’re tasting something foul. My skid marks must be on your tongue. Oh well.

“You are really looking forward to this, aren’t you? Have you been fantasizing about how my cock will feel pushing in and stretching your cunt? Have you been thinking about it for all these years? Shake your head. Good! Thought so. And in a few minutes my load is going to flood your hole.

“Damn, that is one nice ass. Push up and show me your cunt. Damn, it’s so cute. Feel my battering ram thump it. That will get you tingling. My cock is so thick and your hole is so small, it’s like I am taking your virginity from you a second time.

“Ok flat on the bench. I need to lay on top of you. My hairy chest feels nice on your smooth back. I’m a big guy, and I weight a lot; I know. The moment you have been dreaming of for the past decade or so is about to happen.

“Lift your head. I need to put my forearm on the bench. Do you feel my stache on your cheek? Good. Focus on what I am saying. Listen up. I own you. From this point on, I control everything in your life. I control your ass, your dick, and your mouth. I decide when you have sex, and what man gets to fuck you. I control when you cum which will be seldom if ever, when you piss, and when you shit. I control what you eat and what you drink. Hell. I even control when you breathe.

“You know what I learned when I went to California? You know, the one you had your friend try to pick me up? I met up with a bud that is a motorcycle riding California Highway Patrol officer.

“Quit squirming. I know it’s hard to breathe with 240 pounds of a real man on top of you. That Office showed me how to use my bicep and forearm in a way that puts pressure on both sides of your neck, cutting off much needed oxygen. Go ahead try to fight back. It’s pointless you know.

“Your struggling has gotten my dick leaking. Do you feel my pre-cum running down the crack of your ass? Probably not. You’re too busy trying to get your next gasp of oxygen. Your red face is telling me that you don’t care about your ass right now. Just a few seconds more. Shhh shhh shhh shhh. It will be over in a minute….

“Or less it seems. And you are out cold. Now my cock will slide in easily. Oh yes it does! Fuck! Your hole is like silk. It’s not going to take me long. I’ve been wanting to fuck this cunt for years. I would never tell you that while you are awake. I can’t wait until I got your ass trained to take me without having to knock you out first. I plan on going for hours when that happens.

“Oh fuck this isn’t going to take long. I got a big fucking load that’s going to be shot in deep. Here it comes. Take it you fucking cunt. Urg! Fuck! Urg! Uh! Uh! Ahh!

“Fuck I needed that. You are breathing. Let’s get my briefs out. You have a minute or two to come to. I don’t have to tell you to lay still. I got some pissing to do. Oh that feels nice. My piss filling you up good. When you wake up, fuck, you are going to be bursting.

“I know, my briefs will make a good plug,… for now.

“Lookie there! You are waking up. Good. I’ll give you a few moments. Let me get those cuffs off of you. Wake up. You are at the station. Captain, you remember?... Good! Here’s some water…. Are you with me yet? Do you remember being naked in front of me begging for my cock? That brought a smile to your face. You are back! Just look at my cock now. It’s covered in your ass slime.

“Yeah, I fucked you. Sucks for you that you were out cold. But hey! It was great…. You even have a quart of my piss in there too…. Don’t believe me? When you go to take a shit, pull my briefs out of your ass and a torrent of my piss is going to come pouring out. Yup! Let me just say that unconscious holes offer no resistance.

“Stick out your tongue. I said stick out your fucking tongue. You are going to clean up your mess on my dick. Start with sticking my head in. I got to finish peeing. You were getting too full, and I had to stop.

“Oh yeah, there’s that tongue again. You are going to be a good cunt for me. Oh yeah, this is going to happen again. Remember I own you. And not just as some sex object, but I will control you here at the station. You may be captain around here, but I will be calling the shots. First thing is that I think it’s time for you to think about retirement at the same time get me ready for a promotion, don’t ya think?”