#fire island underwear party

[hazelhil]

[devmimi]

— ITTO X YOU

includes ;; pet names (darling, love), clothed sex, unprotected sex, goofy soft itto, service dom, reader sub, kitchen sex, and some other stuff.

itto wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest and nibbling on the side of your neck. whispering loving words into your skin. you were trying to concentrate on your breakfast. you two had a rough night, some reason you both were tossing and turning with nightmares. shaken up a bit, you decided to fill your home with food smells. it made you both relax smelling the blueberry pancakes.

itto breathed in deep, then kissed your shoulder and pulled away to grab milk and orange juice for the king's feast breakfast. itto smiled at you from behind, setting up the table for you. he crept towards you, grabbing your hand and guiding the pan to the cork mat for it to cool off. his kisses came back, up and down your neck.

"i love you.." he whispered, his big hands wrapping around your waist and snaking down your thighs. his palm flushed between your legs. he pushed against you, then let up, and pulled up his hand and slipped into your underwear. flushed against your heat and kneading. your face became like a heater, eyes wide and then relaxing into itto's body.

you flipped off the oven, backing up and pushing itto towards your island counter. you turned around and itto flipped your positions, pulling up your legs and wrapping them around his waist. his muscles tensed to be as slow and gentle as possible with you. you getting lifted was almost a new altitude. you were finally face to face without craning your neck. itto was just in his checkered sleep pants, so you took the opportunity to rub and pinch his nipples. a small laugh came from that, he shook his head and went in to your neck to bite and nip.

"ow!" you burst out laughing, smacking itto's back while your chest bounced up and down. you love itto so fucking much. he was the life of the party you kept so close. it was never a sad moment with him. you despised serious silence, so this was perfect.

itto bit again, rubbing his hips against yours. slow and deliberate. your bodies so close and the heat between you was electrifying. you rutted your hips back. your spark began a fire. you grabbed onto itto's back and scratched dark red lines down. he pulled down your underwear off and sling shot it through your bedroom door, erupting a laugh from you. you jumped up, wrapping your legs back around his hips.

itto grabbed your hips, his nails left marks to make the two of you match. he breathed deep in, then out slow. "are you ready..?" he whispered. with your nod of approval he thrust inside and began his signature fast pace. with the pace and using your hips to bounce you. it was heaven in your kitchen. moans filled your house. bliss filled your veins and flushed your thought process. every muscle in your body just numbed and trusted itto to do right by you.

"i love you so much!" itto consumed your moans into a big kiss. trailing them down to your chest and another to your lips. "i love you darling. you're the love of my life." deep inside of you. it was mind numbing the longer you went. "my love my world." he whispered next to your ear, nipping the lobe and pulled back. "can i..?" you knew exactly what it was without him asking, smacking his mouth closed and nodding rapidly.

itto pulled you all the way down and released inside, locking it with a kiss. "are the pancakes cold now?" he frowned, peppering your face with butterfly kisses.

"no, itto." you laughed, shaking your head.

itto pulled you off. he pulled up his pants and boxers, running to the bedroom to gather clothing for you. you stayed on the kitchen counter, kicking your legs. when he returned you two went back to the breakfast. back to the feast for kings.

[revanchistsuperstar]

I just opened up tumblr to make a shitpost about the vengeful ghost of Nancy Reagan and the recent horrific Supreme Court ruling, but Tumblr was like “do you want to recover your draft?” So I decided “Sure! Fuck it!”

And I regret to inform the class that whatever pearl of wisdom I was about to unleash upon the OFMD fandom here will be lost forever, because while I remember that the end of the incomplete sentence was “I’m currently in an underwear party on Fire Island” I was interrupted from my musings (which yes, I was writing in my underwear) to be bought drinks by a man that I then made out with on the dance floor before he fucked me in the ass out on the beach.

Happy Pride Month.

[artbookdap]

TOMORROW!! Thursday, June 16 at 6 PM, @rizzolibookstore presents photographer @mattelife in conversation with essayist @jack_parlett for the launch of 'To Die Alive.' Published by @damiani_books this 144-page hardcover collects 77 color photographs documenting Fire Island's gay communities in a nocturnal erotic fever-dream. Please register via linkinbio!⁠ ⁠ ABOUT THE BOOK: ⁠ Featuring 77 color photographs and a faux leather cover, 'To Die Alive' portrays Fire Island's world of desire and its layers of history: the Ice Palace bar's infamous underwear party, the men-only Belvedere Guesthouse, clandestine encounters in the Meat Rack, and landscapes in all seasons of the island's delicate maritime forest. The wide-ranging subjects of Matthew Leifheit's portraits reflect the intergenerational community who come to the island for refuge or employment, ranging from weekend visitors to sugar daddies to bartenders and sex workers. Tinged with sadness, the book's climax mixes feelings of pleasure with desperation and loss. As homosexuality gains mainstream acceptance, many queer Americans no longer need to go to geographic extremes like Fire Island, Provincetown, Palm Springs or Key West to express themselves. But what is the cost of assimilation? 'To Die Alive' is both romantic and grotesque, challenging the sun-bleached history of homoerotic representation on this fragile island, which itself is under constant threat of erosion by the sea.⁠ ⁠ To Die Alive Launch⁠ Rizzoli Bookstore⁠ Thursday, June 16: 6PM⁠ 1133 Broadway⁠ New York, NY 10010⁠ ⁠ #MatthewLeifheit #ToDieAlive #fireisland @jeremyoharris @elisabethbiondi ⁠ ⁠ https://www.instagram.com/p/Ce1dlw4Jn4d/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[avenging-fandoms]

kinda just wanna give jj a kiss. imagine being a kook and him falling for you because you're not like them at all, but you're better at hiding your relationship with him than john b and sarah

a party with your family was not something you wanted to attend. you hated everyone on the island, all their fake smiles and a stick up their ass about everything.

you didn’t mind going to parties with your family when jj maybank was working. your friends warned you about him— just because he “wasn’t like us” which translates to rich stuck up assholes.

“yn! let’s go!” your father yelled and you sat on the edge of your bed. you looked at your phone and unlocked it, opening your texts with jj and sending him a picture of you in your dress.

yn: in case you're not working tonight, i wanted to show you my dress for the party :)

"i'm coming!" you yell back and lock your phone, grabbing your clutch and heading down the stairs. you headed to the car and sat in the back seat, staring out the window. you smile as you saw jj's boat in the water at the dock near his house.

the party was already filled with bodies, all of the people you didn't want to be around. your parents and you get out of the car, and your eyes immediately scanned for jj as the 3 of you walked into the door. the camerons' greeted your family as it was their party, and your mouth was in a straight line.

"oh come on, pretty girl, smile! it's a party!" ward smiled at you and you gave him a sarcastic smile. you excused yourself and turned the corner, bumping into a waiter with a tray, the drinks falling all on you.

"oh my god, i am so sorry, miss" you could recognize that voice anywhere and you bit back a smile. jj's eyes met yours and he calmed down a bit, but was still frantically picking up the tray and glass.

"no need to apologize, it was an accident" you helped him pick up the big pieces of glass, and he waved you off. "let me help, it was my fault too" no one was watching you two anymore and you both stood up. "just help me get this champagne out of my dress, please?"

"of course, miss, anything" jj was still panicking and you two headed to the bathroom. you let the door close and you locked the door, smiling at jj.

"miss?" you teased and he groaned softly, making you laugh. you walked over and held his face, kissing him slowly.

"you taste like champagne" jj mumbled against your mouth and you giggle, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. "i missed you, kook"

"oh god, don't call me that" it was now your turn to groan and jj's kisses trailed down your neck, and over your exposed chest. you hum and grip his hair, looking down at him as he kissed your sticky chest from the alcohol.

your phone rang and you pulled it out of your clutch, eyes widening at your dad calling. "hey, pops, what's up?" you looked down at jj who sat you against the sink, pushing up your dress.

"where did you go!?" his voice was loud yet in a whisper, and you held a moan as jj kissed your pussy over your underwear. you bit your lip and tried to keep your composure as jj teased you.

"one of those stupid pogues bumped into me and spilled all the champagne on me and my dress. so he's cleaning it up" you muted the phone and let out a sigh laced with a moan as jj pushed your underwear to the side and blew air on your dripping core.

"good. i should have him fired for that stunt" your father spoke and your eyes bugged, shaking your head.

"no, dad! no need, you'll see him crying when he's done, i'm not letting him forget he ruined my night" you roll your eyes and lean back against the mirror, gripping jj's hair. "alright, pops, i'll see you when he's done cleaning his mess. i love you"

your father said something before he hung up but you didn't care, dropping your phone and clutch in the sink as jj swirled his tongue around your swollen clit. your leg draped over his shoulder and you cover your mouth as you wanted to scream his name.

jj without warning stood up and wiped his mouth. you look at him as he had a shit eating grin on his face. "why'd you stop?"

"shouldn't you be ashamed of letting a stupid pogue giving you that much pleasure?" he winked and you shake your head, falling on him and kissing him. "when can i see you again, yn? i miss you" jj's nose pressed against your neck and your hands gripped his bicep.

"i told my parents i'm going on vacation with kiara's family next week, so if you don't mind.." you smile and he twirls you, making you giggle and kiss him again.

"you can stay with me for as long as you want baby" you smile and kiss him again, grabbing a paper towel and wetting it, dabbing your dress. jj watched you in the mirror, biting his nail. "are you sure you want me, yn? you could have rafe.. or topper.. someone who won't get you in trouble"

"jj maybank" you stood up and threw the paper towel away, holding his face as he looked at the floor. "look at me, baby, please" jj's eyes met yours and you held his gaze. "i would do anything for you, jj. i don't give a shit what anyone says. i will always want you. you are the guy for me. rafe and topper are boring and they're fucking dickheads. you.. you are kind. you see me for me and not who my dad is" you kissed him softly, jj pulling you in tightly.

"i'm sorry, yn, i just get so worried about ruining your life" you shake your head, smiling and stroking his cheek. "i just can't imagine losing you"

"well stop imagining that, because it's never going to happen" your fingers held his vest tightly as you kissed him for a couple minutes, not knowing the next time you would get one. "alright, i have to play my asshole kook part again. just know, it's never real and i really do like you" jj chuckles and nods, kissing you again.

you unlock the door and kiss him quickly before swinging the door open. "i'm really sorry again!" jj yelled and you huffed, rafe grabbing your arm.

"let go of me, rafe" you swing your arm out of his grip, wiping his germs off. "what do you want?"

"do you need me to beat that pogue up for ruining that dress?" rafe looked you up and down and you crossed your arms over your chest, shaking your head.

"you're ridiculous, rafe cameron. thinking fighting will fix everything. for starters, i handled him. i didn't need any help from my dad, and i especially don't need any help from you. excuse me" you bump into him purposefully and find your family. "do i look okay?"

"you look beautiful" your mother smiled and you thanked her, grabbing a glass of water and taking small sips.

jj stayed away from you and your family, rightfully so. you texted him not to come near because you didn't want your dad to make a scene like you did with rafe.

the night ended with you driving off into the night, sneaking out when your parents fell asleep to meet up with jj. he gave you a new meaning of life, something to live for. he was your reason for breathing, and you were his.

[ikigaitsuki]

wandering eyes | h.hj

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

summary — Jealousy is a funny little thing, isn’t it? Makes us do crazy things, makes us act in crazy ways. There is no stopping the fire of envy once it has been set alight.

pairing — hyunjin x fem!reader

genre — smut

CW — (it is a little intense imo) unprotected sex, cream pie, degradation, choking, spanking, like implied role play idk, slight mention of breeding & objectification - there is aftercare i’m not a psycho

word count — 1,189

Part of the 12 days of xxxmas series

a/n: highly unsure of this but i’m posting anyway bc i’m so reckless!!!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

���Are you fucking insane?,” Hyunjin growls out, house keys slamming down on the kitchen island.

You’ve been playing another one of your tricks again - playing innocent around your boyfriend whilst you flirted so effortlessly with his friends, with them eating it up too easily. It was just so much fun to rile him up like this.

Too much excitement bubbling in your stomach as he had grabbed your wrist with such force the skin turned a different hue, dragging you out of Chan’s front door, out of the party, and into the fastest cab that could arrive.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you muse, feigning an innocence Hyunjin knows all to well is laced with mockery.

You see, this is something that gets both of you off - the intentional arousal of jealousy and the subsequent punishment to place you back in line. It’s something you’d intended for tonight, all planned and prepared, unbeknownst to the boys.

“Of course you don’t, you fucking slut. Can’t keep your hands to yourself can you?,” the man grits as the image of you climbing your fingers up Changbin’s thigh re-immerses in his mind.

“Maybe you’re just no fun,” you giggle. You’re playing dangerously now, entering unwarranted territory as you spin on your heels to walk upstairs.

“Maybe you’re just so easy,” You halt at the words, anticipating the next, “Why are you walking away from me when you want me to fuck you?,”

You turn around, eyes over your shoulder as you stare at Hyunjin pulling his leather belt off, “Come over here and let me stuff you full. You need reminding of who’s the one making you scream in pleasure at night,”

It’s embarrassing, really, how quick your body reacts as walk over to your place, and you lean over the kitchen island, skirt rising as you do so.

“You’re gonna start by counting,” Hyunjin’s hands smooth up the flesh at the back of your thighs, “If I can’t hear you, we start again. If it’s too much, you know the word,”

“Okay,”

And the first strike is always the hardest - rough contact of the material against soft skin that sends a stinging sensation spreading through the whole area. The first strike always makes your arms slightly give out from under your body, chest pressed against the cool granite surface.

“One,” you manage, breathless already.

And another.

And another.

And another.

Numbers exiting your mouth non-autonomously as the growing heat on your skin only worsens.

“T-ten,” you wince as you release the fists you had your hands gripped tightly in.

“Should really do more, shouldn’t I?,” Hyunjin asks, “Should mark you so good there’s a bruise,”

“Don’t,” you whimper.

“Why? Can’t take it?,” his breath is close to your ear, lips curving into a sickening grin with his hand tracing over the tingling skin slowly until he reaches the hem of your underwear.

He completely disregards all sanity as he rips the fabric from you, a mess of lace landing on the floor. You fucked up - big time.

“Be a good girl for me,” he traces the tip of his cock around your hole, drinking in the way you whine, “Let me get myself off.”

And he begins a relentless pace the minute he bottoms out inside you, your body hiking up against the kitchen island with the force the man uses. It’s painful, but you know that Hyunjin wouldn’t care if you told him.

In moments like this, you let him slip into his role and let him take care of you after.

You release deep, guttural groans as his hips become flush with yours, pushing so deep you feel like you’ll break. It has you clenching around him, breathless as you take in every stroke of his cock.

“How are you this wet when I haven’t even touched you?,” he growls out, hand coming to grip the back of your throat and keep your cheek against the cool countertop, “You’re disgusting.”

Hyunjin is enamoured with the way your cunt always takes him, is always ready for him. He basks in the way you’re perfectly compliant for him. He can’t stand the way you clench when he throws harsh words at you; manhandles you - you’re so bad that it just feels fucking good. It sets his hungry mind ablaze with the things he wishes to do to you.

“Hyunjin!,” you cry out as his grip around the back of your throat tightens, ability to breathe decreasing with each press of his fingertips. It’s blinding. The lack of oxygen sends a fuzziness cascading through your mind, body growing flaccid as you let Hyunjin take over entirely.

You trust him.

Your words come out slurred as you try to form coherent sentences to convey your pleasure, but Hyunjin understands all the same.

In the small kitchen of your apartment, the sound resounds around the room of skin on skin, of breathless whines and deep grunts.

“Gonna cum inside this pretty little cunt,” Hyunjin groans out, thrusts slowing and clutch on your neck loosening to allow you to gasp for air, “You gonna let me fill you up? Breed you, huh?,”

“Oh god, Jin-, please!,” you try to beg to the best of your ability, ultimately failing as tears build along your lash line.

Hyunjin’s grasp falling to your hips, he takes in the view of you lying lazily atop the kitchen island, takes in the discolouration on your skin from his previous spanks, and keeps his hips right against yours as he cums.

“I don’t want a drop wasted,” he speaks.

He stays in silence for a while, feeling the mood dissipate as he pulls out slowly. You’re tired and messy, and now it’s his job to take care of you.

The whole point of the scene is to be his, belong to him, be property. The whole point is to allow him to receive pleasure whilst you scramble for anything he can give you.

“You’ve done so well,” he kisses your cheek as you slowly rise, arms weak under you.

“T-thank you,” you smile sweetly.

“Let’s get you washed up, hmm?,” he says, softness in his tone finally returning, “Then I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

Hyunjin is always so good at promises. He always keeps them - washing your body like you’re made of glass and focusing wholeheartedly on making you keen in the soft sheets of your bed until you’re spent up and ready to sleep. You know you’re in for a treat tonight, with the way he carries you to the bathroom and undressed you without you having to lift a finger.

“You’re really good to me, you know?,” Hyunjin hums as you sit in the shower, doing nothing but hear his words and feel the warmth of the water down your body.

And when you’re finally under the sheets, lips on your lover’s and fingers in his hair as he lies between your legs, he speaks.

“You’ve made me feel so good tonight,” he kisses slowly down your stomach, delighting in the way your breathing shifts, “Now, it’s your turn.”

© ikigaitsuki. no unauthorised copying or reposting is allowed.

[sodasback]

Bet

JJ Maybank x Reader

Reposting from my deleted account with minor edits.

Not my photo. All credit to original poster @pop-punk-maybank​ <3

"You wanna put some stakes on this, Maybank?" You asked, feeling especially cocky.

"You think you can beat me at beer pong?" JJ asked incredulously. You had to admit it was pretty arrogant of you to think you could beat JJ, aka beer pong king of OBX.

"Oh, I know I can babe." You doubled down. JJ smirked.

"Alright, what do I get when I win?" JJ asked confidently, putting his hands on the table and purposely flexing his muscles as he leaned forward.

"Whad'you want?"

JJ smiled. "After the game is over, you have to jump off the dock, into the marsh." You frowned. You were a little let down by the anti-climatic nature of his dare; it was unlike the blonde.

"I didn't bring a bathing suit." You quickly retorted, shaking your head, knowing that wasn't an option.

“Yeah, I know. You aren’t wearing a bra either.” JJ smiled devilishly. A chorus of “oohs” came from the group that was gradually gathering around. Your mouth dropped open a little.

You closed your mouth and glared at JJ for a second. “Bet.” You said and gasps of disbelief and giggles left the small crowd. Even JJ raised his eyebrows, a little surprised at your answer, but he regained his confident front quickly. “And if I win, you have to show me the video Pope took of you from last weekend.”

JJ immediately dropped his smirk. Pope and John B shared glances, obviously knowing what JJ says/does in the video. “Yeah, that’s not happening.” JJ said looking away.

“Only if you lose.” You reminded him and JJ looked up at you. “What? Is JJ Maybank scared to lose at beer pong to a chick?” You challenged.

Laughs and more “oohs” came from the small group of party-goers. 

JJ looked at you for a minute. “Fuck it. Fine. Let’s do it.”

The game got set up.

“Last chance to back out, Y/L/N. You ready?” 

“I’m always ready for your JJ.” You teased. He shook his head, knowing the tactic of trying to distract him with flirting all too well. You looked at each other in the eyes and took the first shot at the same time to see who would go first. Your ball bounced off the rim of the solo cup and of course, JJ’s sunk in one. You took a breath in and JJ smiled and cocked his head at you. 

“Get used to passing those back to me, Y/N/N, because you’re not gonna keep them at all tonight.”

“Yeah, keep talking shit, JJ. We know this is the only way you’re scoring tonight.”

JJ’s first shot of course went right in. “Drink up, babe”

You smiled and grabbed the first cup, downing it easily. “How’s losing taste?” He asked, getting cockier by the second.

“Just shoot your shot.”

He does and sinks another one, shit-eating grin only growing more. “Balls back.” He smirked. You glared for the umpteenth time that night, but matched his smirk as you rolled the balls back and downed another cup. 

“You regretting this bet now?” JJ asked as he sunk another one. 

“There’s a lot of game left, Maybank.” You continued feigning confidence. 

Finally, JJ misses one. “Fuck” JJ whispers under his breath. “Alright, Y/L/N, let’s see what you got.”

You shot and made it, grinning at JJ. “Okay, okay. it’s just one.” JJ says and gulps down the first drink. You sink another one. “Balls back.” You smile.

You waste no time sinking the 3rd one. “Getting nervous, J?” You ask. But before he can answer, you’re missing your 4th shot, “Not really.” JJ replies cooly. 

The game went on and of course... JJ won.

“Never shoulda bet against me, Y/L/N.” JJ gloated smugly. “I definitely should have raised the stakes though, because jumping into the marsh with your clothes on isn’t really that satisfying for me.”

“Who said I was gonna keep my clothes on?” You asked seductively as you shimmied out of your denim shorts, but leaving your cheeky underwear on. JJ gaped at you for a second before regaining composure and smirking at you. You turned your back to him and took your top off before swan diving off the dock. 

“Fuck that’s cold!” You yelled when you resurfaced and approached the ladder to get back on the dock. JJ had a towel ready for you, but when you went to grab it, JJ pulled it back, just out of reach with that shit-eating grin on his face. You shot daggers at him with your eyes.

“First, say: ‘JJ is the sexiest, funniest, smartest guy I know and I was completely wrong for thinking I could beat him at anything.” 

If looks could kill, JJ Maybank would be one dead pogue from the scowl you were giving him.

“Fuck that. JJ, give me the fucking towel.” You said reaching for it again and not realizing your bare chest was coming out of the water. JJ smirked down at you and licked his lips, before you threw your arm over your chest to cover your boobs. He chuckled to himself, “The water really is cold, huh?” he teased, 

“JJ.” You said sternly.

“You gotta say it.” 

You inhaled deeply, “JJ’s the sexiest, funniest guy and I was wrong for thinking I could beat him.” You muttered and slurred quickly under your breath.

“What was that Y/N/N? I didn’t hear you.”

“Fuck you ...JJ is the sexiest, funniest, smartest guy I know and I was wrong-”

“Completely!” JJ clarified.

“-completely wrong for thinking I could beat him. Now give me the fucking towel, Maybank.”

JJ held the towel out, unfolded so it completely covered the view of you climbing the ladder so no one could see you, but he didn’t turn away, instead he kept eye contact with you even as you struggled to cover your boobs while climbing up the ladder. Once you emerged, he wrapped the towel around you and smiled. You held the towel around you as you kept eye contact with JJ a little longer than usual. You looked away first and cleared your throat. Getting nervous, you stuck your hand out for a handshake. “Good game, Maybank.”

“Good game, Y/L/N.” He said sweetly. And with his guard down, you easily pushed him off the dock and into the water. You laughed as did a lot of the party who witnessed it. 

JJ surfaced, “Oh you are so dead, Y/N! You know that right?” JJ said dangerously as he quickly paddled over to the ladder and you started to retreat.

-

You and JJ ended up in a tickle/wrestling match, after he chased you. And as the party continued, JJ only seemed to cling to you more. You couldn’t help but think that maybe the relationship between you two was more than just shameless flirting, that maybe it could be something more. JJ let you borrow some of his clothes after you both ended up in the marsh, so you could be warm and comfy. You were in his lap with is arms around your waist, sitting around the fire, when your brother texted that he was on his way to pick you up. 

“Time to go?” JJ whispered to you, resting his chin on your shoulder as he read the text on your phone. 

“Yep, it’s that time.” You sighed and leaned into him for just a second before standing up. JJ followed you away from the fire. “So I’ll see you tomorrow night at the movie thing? I’ll bring back your hoodie all washed.”

“Oh no, don’t worry about it. Looks better on you anyway.” JJ smiled as he brought a hand up to your cheek and ran his thumb along your jaw. You couldn’t suppress the butterflies swarming your stomach. You both looked down at the other’s lips when a horn honked loudly. 

Both of your heads snapped in that direction and JJ’s hand immediately fell from your cheek. “Y/N let’s go!” Your brother yelled from his truck

 Now, Jj was the one who cleared his throat awkwardly, “Okay, so yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You laughed at the awkwardness of the situation, “Bye” 

JJ bit his lip, shoving his hands in his pockets and smiling before turning back to the party.

You walked over to your brother’s truck. “I’m just gonna go inside and go to the bathroom real quick.” 

This earned an eye roll from your brother.

When you walked out of the bathroom and out of the Chateau, you saw JJ grabbing a drink from the cooler ...and he wasn’t alone. Your heart sank as you saw him handing a girl you’d never seen before a drink, both smiling and laughing before JJ followed the girl and sat next to her around the fire. 

Maybe it was all in your head. Would JJ Maybank actually be more interested in you than just a friend he flirted with? He did flirt with everyone after all. You just thought maybe it was different with you. Did it really only take 5 minutes for him to move on to the next girl? 

“Hey, you okay?” A voice asked, pulling you out of your heartbreaking thought spiral. It was Pope. He was headed inside to get some water. Pope followed your gaze to where JJ and the girl were, the tears in your eyes threatening to slip out.

“What?” You asked after not really processing what he said as you finally broke your gaze off JJ and looked at Pope who gave you a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, I’m fine!” You said wiping your eyes. “My brother’s waiting to take me home, so I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow?” You sniffled. 

Pope smiled sweetly, “Yeah, see you then Y/N.”

You got into your brother’s truck and he started driving back to your house when you got a text from Pope. 

Pope: I know you lost, but I’m gonna show it to you anyway.

Then another text came through, this one was a video. The video of JJ from last weekend.

In the video, all 3 boys were out in the hammocks, visibly drunk, or high ...or both. JJ being the worst of the 3.

Pope was holding the phone. “So JJ, your turn: who’s the one girl on the island for you?”

JJ scoffed drunkenly and it was clear that he didn’t know Pope was filming: “Bro, obvusly it’s Y/N/N dude. Y/F/N fucking Y/L/N. I’d simp so hard for that girl. ...I just want to buy her flowers. I think she likes peenie...ponies...pennies ..whas it called?” 

“You mean peonies?” Pope clarified. John B looked at Pope and realized he was filming and gave Pope a knowing smile. 

“Yeah those. Penonies, pen- whatever. I just want to treat her like a princess. Like sleeping beauty ...Y/N loves taking naps. Or Belle... she reads a lot n stuff ...or ooh Ariel, that’s the one. She’s just like Ariel ...like a mermaid.”

“Y/N has y/h/c hair” Pope stated but JJ ignored this.

“Yeah anything else, J?” John B asked wanting JJ to continue.

“I dunno dude. I just want to brush her hair n feed her grapes.”

John B and Pope couldn’t help but laugh, “Feed her grapes?” John B asked laughing.

“Yeah, dud-” and with that JJ finally turned and realized Pope was filming, “Arr you fucking recording this?!” JJ asked starting to reach over and wrestle with Pope. 

“Oh my god. I cannot wait to show this to Y/N.” Pope laughed.

There was more wrestling between JJ and Pope before the video stopped. 

You smiled down at your phone. “Thanks Pope <3″ you replied back.

Taglist: @railmerafe @moniamaybank  @hernameisnoell @moonrisebeach @october-cameron @abbyj1822 

[holykillercake]

Barrels, Bets and Balls

pairing: Zoro x Drunk!Reader

word count: 1.9k

summary: The Straw hats are presented with millenary rum from an Ancient Giant Tribe and, well, no one is giving you that anymore. 

higlight:  ¨And then you said ¨maybe I should wear your underwear.¨

warning: Don´t read and drive. 

notes: HOLD MY BEER! Hi, guys! This was a lovely request from @roronoatrash for a drunk s/o! I have to say this is my first time writing a drunk character so I´m a bit nervous hahaha I really really hope you like it! Have fun and drink responsibly! <3 @vemuabhi​

𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘, 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊!

¨Agh!¨ you mumbled when you tried to lift your head from the pillow. It felt like the Thousand Sunny had run over you a thousand times. 

¨Hm?¨

¨Regret ... mhbeh ... thing...¨ your mouth was so dry that talking became almost impossible.  

¨What´s that?¨ Zoro asked, definitely amused by your deplorable state.

¨Hmmm... I don´t... regret... anything.¨

¨Of course you don´t. You don´t remember anything.¨ he shifted on the bed, making it look like a black hole was opening in the mattress. ¨Here, take this.¨ He handed you something.

¨I don´t need your pity... ma-marimo.¨

¨This is not pity, Y/N. This is a painkiller. Come on, you´re gonna feel better.¨

When he helped you to sit on the bed, you noticed something stuck to the window, preventing the sun from entering and blinding you. The greenette removed a few locks of hair that laid plastered across your face before helping you with the herculean task of taking the pill.  

¨If the stupid cook is not dead he must have made coffee.¨ he stood up, grabbing your slippers and placing them in front of you. 

In the meantime, your mind tried to gather whatever useful information you had to understand what had happened, but everything was a void blank. 

¨You ok?¨ he asked, hand on the doorknob. ¨Do you want me to bring it to you?¨

¨No, it´s ok...¨ you pinched the bridge of your nose, making one last effort to remember at least a crumb of the previous hours. You were fast to give up, though. ¨What happened?¨ 

¨Uhhh, you got drunk and passed out.¨ he said like it was no big deal. 

¨Hmm, ok...¨ you took a few seconds to digest his words ¨but when you say ´you´ you mean ´you me´ or ´you guys´?¨

A chuckle left his mouth ¨Come and you´ll see.¨ 

The sun shone high in the sky, forcing you to wince back into your room like the time you had your shadow stolen. You stumbled and lowered yourself to the floor, crawling away from the light. 

¨You go!¨ you said dramatically, covering your eyes ¨Run away and leave me! Tell everyone... that I fought until the last moment!¨

Zoro scoffed at your poorly performed scene, walking closer to you and squatting, back turned to you. ¨Hop, soldier. We don´t leave nakamas behind, right?¨

Your cheeks reddened with his gesture, and you hid your hungover smitten smile on the crook of his neck. ¨Hold tight, Y//N.¨

Oh, I will. Ouch, my head!

As soon as you reached the main deck, your eyes widened, ignoring the bright sun, and your mouth fell in a perfect O. 

¨Oh my freaking... what happened here?¨

If it weren't for the countless barrels, you would have easily thought that you had been chewed up by a sea king. 

The Straw Hats were scattered across the deck, mixed with garbage, blankets, and rolls of toilet paper. Their unorthodox positions would definitely grant them a stiff neck.

Zoro carried you to the kitchen where you found Usopp and Chopper talking at the kitchen table.

¨... like I fasted in a desert for forty nights, and then I survived... a buster call. And like... all of the battleships were pointed at me. And I was catching fire before that.¨ you heard Usopp whine to the doctor, who wrapped some bandages on him. 

¨Oi, who made coffee?¨ Zoro asked purposely loud.

¨SHHHH!¨ you and the sniper hissed at him.

¨Sanji did.¨ Chopper answered ¨Oh, Y/N, how are you feeling?¨

¨Like my heart is beating in my head.¨

¨At least there´s a heartbeat.¨ the swordsman replied, putting you close to a chair so you could take a seat. ¨Hm, Chopper, I saw the cook dead outside.¨

¨Yeah, he made coffee and then passed out again.¨ Chopper discreetly pointed at Usopp´s bandages. 

¨He passed out and spilled hot coffee on me!¨ he roared, stopping midway to whine. 

¨But you two look pretty good, though.¨ You referred to Chopper and Zoro. 

Not Usopp, definitely not Usopp. 

¨Night watch. I didn´t drink last night.¨ the doctor sighed, relieved. 

¨And I can handle my alcohol.¨ the greenette bragged, placing a steaming cup of coffee in front of you. 

¨What happened anyway?¨ 

¨Oh! You don´t remember too, Y/N? That millenary rum was really strong!¨ Chopper asked, fascinated by the effects of the beverage. 

¨Millenary rum?¨ 

¨Yeah! It was a gift from an Ancient Giant Tribe!¨ 

¨Giant tribe?¨ you kept repeating every word he said, double-checking to see if you were not hearing things. 

¨Y/N, what´s the last thing you remember?¨

¨Hmm, let me see...¨ you rested your elbows on the table, hands covering your eyes. Wow, even thinking hurts.

                                                <~>

¨I swear to God, Tony! When Luffy falls into the water, you can not jump after him!¨ you yelled, panting from climbing back to the ship and soaking wet of salty water. 

He pouted and whined. You only called him ¨Tony¨ when you were upset with him. 

¨So-Sorry Y/N... AaaAgh...¨ his voice trembled, and you couldn´t help but soften a little. 

¨Ugh, forget it.¨ you laid down on the grass and sighed, the reindeer on your belly ¨Are you alright, Chopper?¨

¨Y-Yeah...¨

Zoro emerged a few seconds later, carrying Luffy on his shoulder. 

You had engaged in a fight against some bandits who were causing trouble on an island called Gran Brabados. From what you could understand, they were descendants of the Ancient Giant Tribe who emancipated from Elbaf after years of conflict. 

¨I don´t wanna be rude, but¨ Usopp spoke to one of them ¨I thought giants were warriors. Like Broggy and Dory. Those guys fought for over 100 years!¨

¨Well, most of us are, but some are not. That's why we left Elbaf.¨ the giant said ¨We're not interested in war, we're interested in rum!¨

All of you stopped for a second, wondering if you heard the same thing.

¨Eh?¨ you spoke.

¨We don´t make war! We make rum!¨ he threw his huge hands in the air, chest puffing out of pride.

¨Oi, really? Give us some!¨ Zoro immediately threw Luffy on the floor and ran towards the giant. Next thing you knew, the giant burst into laughter. 

¨Gabababa!¨ he hunched as he laughed ¨Sorry, but tiny people like you can't handle it! Gababababa!¨

You were not sure what offended you the most, he calling you all, who just saved their asses, weak or having to dodge the huge drops of saliva that came out of his mouth. 

After insisting a lot, he ended up giving in, presenting the straw hats with barrels and barrels of millenary rum. Yeah, millenary. Rum distilled for one thousand years, or at least that is what he said. 

The celebration didn´t take long to begin. Because Luffy had decided to set sail that same day, you would all be bathed with a pleasant sunset as you partied.

¨Wow!¨ you shouted after chugging the first tankard. ¨Oooohh, this is good booze!¨ you shook your head, already feeling the kick. 

¨Girl, you should go easy on this. It´s super strong.¨ Franky said, making you scoff at him, possessed by some waspish Viking demon.

¨And here I thought you were hard-boiled.¨ 

¨What?¨ 

¨O-Oi, Y/N...¨ Usopp said, worried, sipping his drink. 

¨Haven´t you learned anything with Tom-san?¨ you clicked your tongue ¨Meh, I guess I´ll be the one making things with a DON around here!¨ you chugged more of the rum. 

The shipwright glared at you with a red beam coming out of his left eye. You remember questioning yourself for a second. Maybe you had said too much, but it was just for a brief second before you insulted someone else. 

Back at the kitchen table, flashes of the events from the last night began to pop in your mind. Guilt and embarrassment gushed over you, making you twist and cringe. 

¨And then you said ¨maybe I should wear your underwear.¨ Chopper shivered as he quoted your words.

¨Nooo...¨ you cried out.

¨It gets worse, Y/N.¨

¨What?! How?!¨

¨Because after that,¨ Zoro started to speak, and you saw him struggle to stop a smile from cracking. That was not a good sign. ¨you said "your balls are so small Robin could have grabbed them with one hand!¨ 

The men laughed and slapped the table as you looked for a place to bury your head or a knife to stab yourself in the heart. 

¨WHY DIDN´T YOU STOP ME?¨ you yelled, pulling your boyfriend by the collar and shaking him. 

He placed a hand on your forehead, a silly thing he did every time you got too nervous. ¨Oi, you´re a big girl. You know what you´re doing.¨ 

¨Noo, obviously I don´t!¨ He smiled. 

He would not be the one to tell you, but he did have to stop Franky from Radical Beam-ing the hell out of you several times. For some reason, you were very keen on insulting the cyborg's masculinity. 

Another thing he wouldn´t tell you was that he didn´t touch the rum in the last night. He decided to remain sober and look after you, making sure you would not kill someone or get yourself killed. 

However, despite all the trouble you gave him, he recognized your strength. Straw hat after straw hat, you managed to defeat everyone in a stupid drinking contest. 

The biggest achievement was to drag Luffy into the game since he dislikes the taste of alcohol. When he denied being part of it, you teased him by saying,¨I think you are just scared, Luffy. You know what, maybe I should be the Captain of this ship! Maybe, I will be the Pirate King!¨

That was about the sixth punch Zoro took for you. Or because of you. 

The darker the night fell, the wilder you all got. And then insults began to come from every direction to every direction. You were arguing, then laughing, then crying and apologizing. If it wasn´t for Zoro, Chopper would have had a heart attack. 

¨Nami, you thief! Give me back my queen, or I´ll be forced to shoot a Bidori Moshi at you!¨ Usopp yelled, holding a bunch of cards in his hands. 

¨Oi, Usopp! How dare you speak with a lady like that?! I´ll kick you in the face!¨

¨Bring it on, Sanji! I eat eggplants like you for breakfast every day! AND IT´S GOD USOPP FOR YOU!¨

¨Zoro...¨ Chopper cried, falling close to where the swordsman was sitting. ¨W-What are we going to do?¨

¨Uh? Ah, sit back and relax. You know these guys, they are ju-¨

¨Y/N-san, may I see your panties?¨

¨Well, too bad for you I´m not weari-¨

¨OI! Y/N!¨ Zoro dashed over, throwing you on his shoulder. 

That was about the first punch Brook took for you. Or, again, because of you. 

And then, as the number of biological hazards began to decline, managing the situation became easier and easier. Chopper took care of the fallen drunken, and Zoro threw blankets over them.

In the end, it was you and Luffy. You were still arguing about the things you said earlier. Both of you were exhausted but didn´t want to give in. The argument only ended when you withdrew your words, saying that he would be the one to become King of the Pirates.

Luffy fell dead asleep immediately, and Zoro took the cue to approach you. ¨Hey, Y/N. Our time, let´s go?¨

You turned to him and nodded, red cheeks and tired eyes. He had to scoop you up and carry you back to your room since your legs were not part of the equation anymore, and you would let go and fall every time he tried to carry you on his back. 

¨Heeey, you´re not drunk!¨ you whined, almost falling asleep. ¨Why aren´t you drunk?¨

¨Cause you drank everything.¨

¨Noo, I can find s´more.¨ you uncovered yourself, trying to get out of bed.

¨I bet you can.¨ he said, covering you again and pulling you closer.

The warmth of his body, altogether with his hand gently rubbing your back, made your system shut down. 

¨You know... I can kick your ass... in a drinking contest...¨

¨Yeah,¨ he chuckled ¨I bet you can.¨

That was definitely not true, but for you, well, for you he could pretend it was.

[finn-ray-nal-beads]

A Tight Squeeze

A/N: You all can blame @contesa-lui-alucard for this monstrosity... I literally am in love with this character now and I will never stop... I slept on him SO hard and I REGRET IT! Thank you for the inspiration and this fic is so self indulgent I wish Pat was my true baby daddy... Enjoy loves!🖤

Warnings: tw: pregnancy, tw: pregnancy kink, obscene amounts of marital fluff and love, tw: breeding kink, tw: unprotected sex, tw: doggystyle, tw: very slight edging, tw: body image, tw: slight depression (regarding body image and self esteem), lots of fluff (because Pat is fluffy), tw: daddy kink, tw: hair pulling, creampies (I mean when am I NOT doing a creampie?) a smidgen of Dom!Pat because I CANNOT control myself

(PLZfor the love of Satan lmk if I miss a tag or TW... I am only human and I make errors all the time)

“Goddammit!” you practically cried, seeing the thousandth piece of clothing you owned barely fitting around your new curves. The look of defeat and sorrow running across your pretty face from the mirror as you twisted and turned to somehow wish the new poundage away.

“Honey?” a sheepish voice called from the kitchen in your quaint home, his heavy footfalls coming steadily as he padded back to your bathroom.

His precious features gracing the floor-length mirror as he crowded the edge of the molding on the frame of the closet.

He gasped slightly, surveying the scene before him. His cock stirred in his jeans as he appraised your body, the new planes from the growing baby inside you making you glow with an effervescence he had never seen before.

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he caught his breath, your tits plunging out of the small tank top, bouncing as you frustratingly tried to pull it over your growing bump, to no avail as the bottom half and your belly button poked from under the hemline.

The leggings barely fitting on your thighs as they clutched onto your globe of an ass. He wished on all the stars that you couldn’t fit into your underwear and had forgone them all together so he could rip the seam and go to town on your backside.

“Pat,” you whined his name, running your hands over your belly, clearly upset you had a dwindling wardrobe as the days progressed.

“I need to get some new stuff honey,” your pretty lips going into a full pout as the tears rolled down your cheeks. You never had any reason to feel as unattractive as you had just now. He had never given you any indication he didn’t think you were the most beautiful creature on this planet. In fact, when he and you had found out about the baby, he was completely overjoyed and more touchy than he had ever been in the years he’d been married to you.

His feral instincts had kicked into hyperdrive when he became a father-to-be. Making sure you were well taken care of in all aspects including but not limited to cleaning, cooking, foot rubs, nightly baths, and of course reading poetry to you and your unborn son as he grew bigger and bigger.

He loved every detail of it. The gross and good parts, and ebbed and flowed with every single mood swing and nauseous feeling you had. He was the perfect husband, and here he was, looking at you as if you were the most gorgeous goddess he had ever seen. In fact, you were to him, no matter how many times he had been in utter disbelieve that you gave him the time of day let alone let him fuck you three or more times a day.

“Okay baby,” he cooed, coming over to wrap you in the biggest hug he could, rubbing your back as you sobbed over this minor detail in your pregnancy.

He hushed and rocked you, petting your hair, while you inhaled his fresh scent, rubbing your face in his cotton t-shirt as he whispered the sweetest nothings into your ear.

“It’s gonna be okay honey,” he murmured, “you still look absolutely perfect to me my sweet love,” the words making you tear up even more as he kept with his praises.

“You’re absolutely amazing,” his chorus kept going, the baby suddenly joining in the party as he kept talking, “we both think you are, mama,” the sobs catching in your throat as your son kicked a series in your stomach, his low baritone only encouraging the movements as he kept on.

“In fact, I think mama could use a nice bath and something sweet to eat… What do you think?” he arched back to see your head pop up from its place, his precious smirk making you smile with glassy eyes while you nodded.

“That’s exactly what I think too,” kissing your forehead with the lightest effort, “okay, go get out of these, and I’ll get it going for you, deal?” his eyebrows raised as he ran a hand over the expanse of your bump, cradling underneath while you wiped your cheeks off with your hands.

He kissed over your face before heading to the bathroom to run the tub, the lavender scent emanating as the water filled the basin.

You struggled out of your clothing, cursing the companies who made your clothes as you did so. You felt like burning them in a fire or ripping them to shreds but settled on maturity rather than violence as the clothes weren’t the issue.

Your body ached from the weight of everything. The baby of course wasn’t your average-sized fetus, being that his father was a whopper when he was born. You never assumed, however, that he could be as heavy as he felt the more he grew inside you. And you also didn’t take into account the toll his size would take on yourself as the months dragged on. But willful ignorance is what you went with, and with that came karma in its truest form.

No matter how much you hurt and complained, you loved your boys, size and all, and you knew you wouldn’t do this for any man except for your precious Pat.

He was truly just the best partner in every sense of the word. And this simple gesture of making sure you practiced some self-care was his way, amongst many, of showing you how much he appreciated the sacrifices you were making for him and your growing family.

You waded into the steaming water, the enveloping hug of warmth shrouding your emotional state into numbness as the floral notes caressed your senses. This was heavenly, you thought, submerging your body as far as possible into the water, the top of your belly poking out like a small island in the ocean as you relaxed.

You closed your eyes, trying to take in the serenity, rubbing slow circles on the sides of your taut stomach as the baby relaxed within you.

Your meditation was so deep after a few minutes, you never heard Pat come in to check on you.

His hand found the exposed skin, calloused fingers enveloping it in a heated touch as he whispered to you, “how are we doing now mama?” he cooed, his soft smile in the warm light bringing you to tears again.

He was the sweetest thing on this planet. You hoped to any entity that was listening that your son had his perfect features. Those golden eyes, his soft lips, the freckles that speckled his body, his calm demeanor.

“Better,” you whispered back, unconsciously pushing your body into his touch, “thank you, daddy,” smiling at his sweet face.

“Good,” holding his gaze for a moment to peer at your perfection for just a second longer, his smile widening as yours did too.

“When you’re ready to get out I’ll help you get all lotioned and dressed… I’ve got one of my shirts and sweats out for you babe,” his lips pressing against your forehead again as you exhaled a relieved sigh.

“We’ll go get you some new stuff in the morning,” rubbing the top of your bump as you smiled brighter and brighter, “that okay?”

You nodded, peacefully, not wanting him to leave this spot until you were finished.

___________________

You spent about twenty more minutes in there until the water became too cold, his cue to get you and little man from the tub.

He helped you get dried off, making sure to gingerly rub your skin before grabbing the lotion from the cabinet. He knew you liked the lavender scent, so he had picked up a bottle when he was at the store earlier in the month. The fact that it was just about gone being an indication of a good purchase on his part.

He rubbed your relaxed muscles, making sure to massage the cream into every crack and crevice he could reach for you, the primal instincts rising within as he ran his hands over the curves and dimples on your skin.

He tried to shake the thoughts, thinking of the task at hand, but being hopelessly derailed after you let out the fifth or sixth moan in pure bliss.

He snapped then, the ambient lighting in the room looking so good on your naked body as you laid out perched in the best way for him.

“Pat?” his sudden stop causing you to look up from your spot, the pillows you had stacked so you were comfortable during his massage able to push you to see his looming body over your belly.

“What’s wrong honey?” gazing at him in the warm light, his hair tousled from the work he had been doing, his lips quivering as he gulped a dry swallow upon seeing your eyes meet his.

“I need you to get on your hands and knees and arch that perfect back of yours before I paint my jeans,” his tone deep enough to cause a stir in your nether regions.

Your eyes dilating immediately upon his sudden domineering behavior, “like this baby?” you made a show out of it all, wiggling your ass as you crawled up the bed, gripping the sheets in both hands as your back arched just the way he liked it.

“Such a good fucking mama,” he cooed, the sounds of his pants unzipping and the clang of them on the floor, coupled by the bed creaking slightly from his weight on the edge, “back up to me honey,” his hands gripping the sides of your hips as he helped you ease your body to meet his.

His tip barely touching your ass, causing a hiss to leave his chest, and a moan to leave yours upon feeling his pubic hair graze your mound.

“I’m gonna destroy this pussy of mine,” he growled, his voice getting deeper and deeper as he grabbed and rubbed his tip in your wet folds, “fuck this wet little pussy until you can’t take it anymore,” gritting as your hole sucked the head in, your warmth coating it so perfectly.

“Fuck Pat,” you whined, his hold on your hips bruising as he stilled his tip for a moment or two before sheathing it to its base, “y-you’re s-so f-fucking b-bi,” not able to even finish as he plunged even further, pushing your hips so you both let out a chorus of groans.

“Y-you t-take t-this b-big c-cock of m-mine s-so w-well m-mama,” he gasped out, picking up his pace as he fucked further and further into you, his hand pressing into your lower back as you arched more and more.

“I-I’m s-such a g-good g-girl,” you mused back, “I-I l-love p-pleasing m-my b-baby,” feeling his dick harden even more in your squelching cunt as he plummeted further into your hole.

“S-such a g-good g-girl,” he recanted, “k-keeping m-my c-cum s-so g-good,” speeding up even further, your moans picking up as he found your G-spot.

“Y-you l-love b-being all f-full of m-me,” the slaps of sweaty skin and balls hammering the room as the moans turned into feral screams.

“I-I l-love c-carrying y-your b-baby P-Pat,” the tears streaming as you felt the shroud of warmth begin to expand from your cunt to the rest of your body.

“T-that’s f-fucking r-right y-you d-do,” he growled, his teeth snarling as the sweat dripped in a waterfall from his short locks, the songs of your cries opening his senses to overdrive as he watched you writhe under him.

“Y-you c-cum on t-this m-monster c-cock of y-yours,” he grunted, feeling your walls vibrate around him and your screams emanate. As a last-ditch effort, he moved his hand on your back to grab your messy bun, pulling the hair to cement your rapture.

“F-fuck P-Pat!” you came, and you came hard. The damn breaking to coat his dick in your sweet sticky release wave upon wave, the wet sounds sending him over the edge as he pummeled the last of his efforts into your spent pussy.

He grit his teeth again, pushing in two more times before emptying his large load into your occupied cunt, the overload spilling out in a thick mixture while he pumped lazily in and out, musing at the sight.

He pulled out slowly, holding your hips so you could relax a little bit before guiding you to the side and surrounding your body with an abundance of pillows once more.

“So much for a bath,” you sighed and laughed, fanning yourself in a sweaty haze.

“I’m sorry honey,” he chuckled too, grabbing a towel to wipe you and then himself off, “I wasn’t even thinking about it… I just got too riled up from the clothes you were wearing earlier, and I…” he trailed off, watching a smile creep over your face as he talked.

“Really?” your curiosity getting the better of you, “you liked me in those clothes?”

“Ummm,” he sheepishly blushed, “y-yes?” itching the back of his head trying to avoid any eye contact with you.

“Well....” you adjusted as the baby began to make himself known for the night, “I guess I know what I need to do in the future,” winking as he found the other side of the bed, curling up to run his hand over your belly.

“Honey,” he whispered, “you don’t have to be doing anything for me to get turned on by you… I’m just in love with you either way,” his admission making you misty-eyed while you felt his light touches on your skin.

“But I have to admit… I really like this kind of look on you,” gesturing to all of your figure from head to toe.

“Well, you made me this way,” inching in to kiss his plush lips, him returning as you both pecked each other for a few seconds.

“I’ll keep you this way if you want me to,” his voice barely loud enough for you to hear, “keep you all knocked up and gorgeous for as long as you let me,” his words going straight to your cunt again as he kissed you again and again.

“As many times as you wish… Daddy,” winking and kissing him deeply, a smile inching over his lips as yours met.

“I love you,” his faint words cutting into your soul as if he was saying it for the first time.

“I love you,” returning it with a smile and a nuzzle into his neck as you began to drift off together in sticky paradise.

___________

Well... What did we all learn today? That I have a total fucking issue with not being his baby mama and that I have staples that I stick to and will not waiver from in my deepest darkest fantasies... Goodnight everyone I love you and I'll be crawling back into my festering hole to think about what I have done.

Oneshot Taglist: @maybe-your-left, @safarigirlsp, @clydesfavoritegirl, @thepalaceofmelanie, @hopeamarsu, @caillea, @historyandfandoms50, @mariesackler, @millenialcatlady, @thepriceofstars, @roanniom, @kathorax, @driversmutbucket, @clydes-hole, @xxcatrenxx, @paper-n-ashes

(Plz lmk if you would love to be added/removed from the taglist... Thank you all for the love and the support for this absolute garbage)

[hopelesshawks]

Love and Admiration Part 34- Vulnerable

18+ Bakugo x fem!pro hero reader

Summary: (Y/n) has known Bakugo since middle school, admired him since high school, and had a crush on him since the first time they met. Even now, a top pro hero in her own right, she can’t shake her school girl crush. Too bad Bakugo literally has no idea she exists. Well that’s not entirely true… He does know pro hero Mercury exists, but (y/l/n) (y/n)? Never heard of her.

Note: there’s a written part after the third screenshot so careful not to accidentally skip past it if you click into the photos to read the texts

Masterlist Help Lulu <3

You wake up slowly to the sound of your phone pinging incessantly and it takes a moment to realize why there’s another warm body beneath you. As memories of the previous night trickle in so too does a combination of hopeful excitement and dread. Bakugo Katsuki loves you, of this you can now be sure. But the uncertainty lies in whether he can forgive you for breaking his heart. Sure, he’d seemed accepting the previous night but it’s one thing to accept late at night in the heat of the moment with your lips on his, and another entirely to accept it under the harsh light of day with a clearer head. You’re brought out of your thoughts when Bakugo’s arm around you tightens in a quick squeeze. “Stop overthinking idiot,” Katsuki grumbles, voice still rough with sleep. You shift slightly so you can look at him properly before replying “How do you know I’m overthinking?” “Can just tell. Relax,” he assures you. “Ok,” you sigh, releasing with it some of the tension from your body. You notice your phone is still pinging so you reach over and grab it off the nightstand. Bakugo scowls at it, taking it from your grip and flicking it on silent before tossing it back to the nightstand before you can even check the notifications. “Uhh is there a particular reason you won’t let me look at my phone?” you asked with a raised eyebrow. “It’s just our dumbass friends. Ignore them for now,” he huffs before rolling you both over so you’re pinned beneath him and unable to reach for your phone again. “Katsuki you’re heavy,” you whine, feebly pushing at his shoulder until he shifts so his weight is better distributed on top of you. You expect him to fire some reply back and when he doesn’t you look down at where his head is now lying on your shoulder to find him staring up at you. “What?” you ask, suddenly self conscious as his gaze traces over your face. “I missed hearing you call me by my first name,” he admits quietly, your heart breaking at the words. “I’m so so-“ you start to say but Katsuki covers your mouth with his hand. “You said that already dumbass,” he tells you before getting out of the bed and pulling back on his shirt and boxers.

You watch Bakugo curiously as he digs through your drawers in search of something. Once he finds it he tosses it to you on the bed. As you unfold it you realize it’s the Dynamight hoodie you’d bought alongside the Mercury one for Katsuki. “Get dressed and meet me in the kitchen,” is the closest you get to an explanation as Katsuki leaves the room. You pull the hoodie on then go to your drawers to find underwear and a pair of pajama shorts to throw on. By the time you meet Katsuki in the kitchen he’s pouring two cups of tea and setting them down at your kitchen island so you go to take a seat there and wait for him to come sit next to you. It’s quiet for a moment as you both try to think where to start. “Look I don’t need or want another fucking apology from you got it? I wasn’t entirely blameless or whatever so,” Bakugo starts stiffly. He’s uncomfortable, you can tell. Emotional conversations have never really been his thing, at least not without a heavy dose of violence to simultaneously use as an outlet. It’s just further proof of how important getting this right must be to him. “I just need to know why,” he finally admits although he’s staring resolutely into his mug of tea instead of looking you in the eye. You nod, gathering your thoughts for a moment so you can be sure to get this right. He deserves that much. You both do.

“I’ve had a crush on you since middle school.”

Bakugo’s head snaps to look at you in disbelief so quickly you’re genuinely shocked he didn’t give himself whiplash. “Eh!? Why??” he asks. “I don’t know! You always seemed so cool and you were so determined to get into UA and I am not going to rationalize middle school (y/n)’s feelings ok?? You were a fucking gremlin but you were a gremlin I happened to like a lot,” you huff, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. “Whatever brat, just finish your fucking explanation,” he scoffs but the tips of his ears and his cheeks have gone pink. “Yea well, you matured a lot in high school so the crush didn’t go away. If anything it got worse but you didn’t really know who I was so that was kinda it y’know? It just became this thing that sat in the back of my head that I ignored,” you explain. “What about that stupid extra you dated?” Bakugo asks, his grip around his mug tightening slightly. “I liked Shindo a lot. Even loved him for a bit but I don’t think he really made the crush go away, just made it ignorable y’know? My crush on you was still right there waiting after he and I broke up. At the party two weeks ago he even told me that the reason he cheated was because he was paranoid I’d leave him for you,” you admit. “That’s not a fucking excuse,” Katsuki practically growls. “I know.” “Good.”

You pause to take a sip from your tea as you continue sorting your thoughts. It’s embarrassing to admit how long you’ve been hung up on Bakugo, especially considering he had no idea who you were even if he loves you now. Even still, you resist that small, self-protective instinct that wants you to shy away. It’s what got you in this situation in the first place after all. You and Katsuki will only work if you can be vulnerable with each other. “But yea, anyway, uhm all that to say I’ve been kinda hung up on you for a really long time but it was always from a distance y’know? Until suddenly it wasn’t and we were hanging out and having sex and you made it very clear that you don’t date and I thought I was fine with that because whatever we were doing was already so much more than I ever thought I’d have with you, especially once I realized you didn’t remember me, but then Shindo kissed me,” you sigh. Katsuki tenses up beside you. “I remember. Thought you were gonna go crawling back to that idiot,” he growls. “I was,” you admit, and once again you worry Katsuki’s going to give himself whiplash with how quickly he turns his head to you. “What? After everything he did to you, why-“ “Relax ok? I couldn’t do it, even though at the time I kind of wanted to.” “Why couldn’t you?” “Because of you.”

The words hang heavy in the air as Bakugo’s eyes scan over your face searching for any indication that you’re lying or embellishing the truth. “Then why did you start avoiding me after that night?” he finally asks and you give a wry smile. “Because I’m an idiot? Kissing Shindo made me realize that the crush I’d been harboring for you for years had changed. It wasn’t just a stupid crush on the idea of you anymore, I was in love with you. I am in love with you. But I thought there was no way you’d ever want anything more than what we were doing and I couldn’t just be your fuckbuddy if I was in love with you, so I distanced myself to try and give myself time to get over you before we could continue our friendship,” you elaborate. “You should’ve just talked to me.” “I know.” “If you had I would’ve told you I’ve admired you since I first saw you fight as a pro a couple years ago,” Bakugo reveals and you can’t help but gape at him. “A couple years?” you ask incredulously. “Yea well, whatever don’t make a big deal out of it I just saw you on a bust or whatever and you fight really well so even if you weren’t the highest ranked or whatever I respected you. Then when I started seeing you around more this year I knew you’d end up top ten. Obviously,” he scoffs, his cheeks blushing an even brighter red at the admission. “I had no idea,” you say in wonder. “That’s obvious.” “Don’t ruin the moment.” “Whatever, can I finish what I was trying to fuckin say now?” “Ok, ok go for it.”

Bakugo rolls his eyes so hard you’re surprised they don’t fall out as he huffs. “Look I’m... I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since that first time in the alley, it just took you kissing that stupid, shitty extra for me to realize it. So if you’re done being a fucking idiot, I’d like it if you could be my girl,” he confesses and despite his gruff tone you can hear the hope and vulnerability in his voice. “I’d like that too,” you smile, voice soft and warm with affection. “Then c’mere,” Katsuki tells you before tugging you close to him until you’re sitting in his lap, legs straddling his waist. “I love you,” you tell him, voice filled with sincerity and joy at finally having him the way you’ve dreamed and fantasized about for years. “I love you too Princess,” he promises before pulling you into the sweetest kiss.

A/N: I wasn’t 100% sure where I wanted their talk to go I just knew that they needed to talk out exactly what happened instead of just confessing, sleeping with each other, and moving on but it felt only right they both should reveal just how long they’ve had their eyes on each other. Just a couple parts left guys ❤️

Taglist: @pixelwisp @oliviasslut @larkspyrr @heroacadema @kozukatsuki @captaincyberqueen @undead-nyx @ineedtofocusfr @i-heart-fictional-boys @theycallme-becky @superhermit @black-rose-29 @disaster-rose @fandomsgotmefucked

[fivelakesinwriting]

Out of Character (Rafe Cameron)Part 5

Warnings: SMUT, Swearing.

Author's Notes: Hi. It's been a while. I didn't feel like posting, honestly. Didn't feel like involving myself in OBX or this story. But, here it is. I hope you all enjoy it.

"Nice boat." Came a voice behind Gemma as she tied her dad's boat up to the dock. She turned around and came face to face with a sweaty, toned chest.

"Oh..I.. thanks. It's my dad's." She replied as she looked up at the blonde boy.

"It's an awesome piece. I'm JJ." He smiled as he extended a hand for her.

"I'm Gemma. I'm new to town." She replied as she shook his hand.

"Thought you might be. I'd recognize either you or that boat." JJ smirked as he reached into his bag to pull out a beer.

Gemma blushed and looked down at her feet. The boy cracked his beer, taking a hearty swig before he turned to a chorus of his name from the channel.

"Well, those are my friends. Listen, there's a party on the beach tonight if you're interested. Swing by, and I'll introduce you to my friends. Could tell me about you, and your dad's boat." JJ smiled as he walked backwards towards his friends idling boat.

"Okay. Thank you. I..I just might." She nodded.

"Bye, Gemma..." JJ trailed as he had one foot in the boat and the other on the dock.

"Mercer. Gemma Mercer."

"JJ Maybank. See you tonight, Gemma Mercer." JJ waved as he hopped into the boat with a crush of his beer can.

That night at the insistance of her step mother, Gemma went to the party. She walked nervously down the beach as she followed the sounds of teens as they drank. The fire that roared on the beach her beacon.

"Gemma!" She followed the sound of her name and spotted the boy from earlier, now with a shirt on and most of the buttons done up.

"Hi, JJ." Gemma smiled as she walked over to him as she stood at the keg with the three people from the boat earlier.

"Alright. Meet Pope, Kiara and Young John B." JJ smirked as he pointed to each individual.

"Hi, guys. Nice to meet you. I'm Gemma." She smiled with a soft wave.

"Welcome to the Outer Banks, Gemma. Beer ?" John B smiled as he raised a cup.

"Sure. Thank you." Gemma nodded.

Gemma sat with JJ and his friends for a bit and listened to them as they talked, answering the occasional question. Eventually it was just JJ and Gemma.

"So, what's your story?" JJ asked as he leaned back on his hands on the sand.

"My story?" Gemma asked with a small laugh.

"Well, yeah. Why are you here?"

"Well. My dad works for this guy. Real big wig. Ward Cameron. So we had to move here. Plus my parents got divorced and my dad remarried. Stepmom wants to be as far away from my real mom as possible. " Gemma replied as she sipped her beer.

"Wait. Your dad works for Ward Cameron?" JJ asked as he turned to look at her fully.

"Yeah. Some investments or realty. I don't really know what he does. Apparently my stepmom knows his second wife and that's how he got the job. Good ol' Petra." Gemma replied as she held her drink up for a cheers with the ocean.

"Didn't want to move?" JJ asked softly, not pressing the Ward Cameron issue.

"Not really. It's not that I don't like it here. It's beautiful and I think I will have fun, but it's not the same as back home. Don't have my mom." She replied as she looked over at her new friend.

"I know what you mean. My mom left a long time ago. I know it's not the same as you, but. You feel that.."

"Emptiness." They stated at the same time.

"Mercer!" Came the voice of Rafe Cameron behind them, and Gemma watched as JJ Maybank clutched his Solo Cup a little too tightly.

"Hi, Rafe." She replied as she looked behind her to see the boy whose father owned the OBX, and was her father's boss.

"What are you doing hanging out with this dirty Pogue?" Rafe sneered as he finished his drink, then tossed the cup.

"I don't know what that..you mean JJ? He's my friend. We met today." Gemma replied as she looked between the two boys.

JJ seemed to be seething with anger at the presence of Rafe. Gemma didn't understand. She had met Rafe several times over the last few months while their fathers worked out a deal for the job, and she liked him. She thought he was nice. A little sarcastic, and crude. But overall nice.

And she liked JJ.

"No doubt scouting out your dad's boat." Rafe grinned as he pushed his hands into his pockets.

"Fuck off , Rafe." JJ spat as he scrambled up from the sand to stand face to face with the boy.

"Alright. Easy. Just saying, next time Gemma wants to party she should be with the Kooks where she belongs and not the Pogues." Rafe grinned, before he turned and walked away with his group of friends.

"I fucking hate that guy." JJ muttered as he took a gulp of his drink before he turned back to Gemma with an apologetic look.

"So. Kooks? Pogues?" Gemma asked as she stood up and led him towards the keg.

"Just this island rivalry. Rich kids versus poor kids , really." JJ replied as he filled their cups.

"And I'm not supposed to like you because my dad kisses Ward Cameron's ass?" Gemma asked.

JJ smirked as he took a generous gulp of his beer. He leaned down close and whispered, "I like you, Gemma Mercer."

The connection with Gemma was more than sexual, although he had that with her in spades. That same night JJ took her back to John B's house to the room where he frequently crashed.

"Sure you wanna shack up with a dirty Pogue?" JJ asked as he kissed down her neck, his hands on her hips as he lifted her up to sit her on the dresser.

"Well..how dirty?" Gemma asked with a tug of his platinum blonde hair.

"Filthy." JJ replied as he pulled his lips from her neck and tugged his shirt over his head.

"Then, yes." Gemma smiled as she reached for his toned chest like she had wanted to since early that afternoon.

JJ smirked as he lifted the girl up off the dresser just to drop her onto his bed. He watched as she wiggled out of her shorts for him, and growled when he saw she didn't have underwear on underneath.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you wanted me to fuck you tonight." JJ muttered as he laid between her legs.

"Maybe." She replied as she reached for the button of his shorts.

JJ growled as he grabbed her hips and tossed her to the top of his bed then crawled between her legs, leaving a trail of kisses up her thighs. He pinned her knees to either side before he gave her centre a soft kiss.

"JJ!" She whined with a tug of his hair.

"You'll get it." He grumbled with a smirked before he gave her the flat of his tongue.

JJ would always remember that he had her first. Somehow the standards of OBX got hold of her and she ended up with Rafe Cameron. Maybe it was her job at the club and she was around him so often it just made sense. But JJ would never forget their first night together. 

..

"Kie says you yelled at her." John B stated as he walked up behind JJ .

The blonde boy sat on the dock and looked out at the setting sun. He couldn't shake his anger. It festered inside of him.

"I didn't yell...okay. I yelled. But you guys shit on Gemma all the time, and you don't know her like I do. You weren't..you weren't there." JJ mumbled as he pulled a cigarette from behind his ear.

"Dude, I know you liked her..or like her. But I don't think she's the same girl she was when she came her. She's got Rafe and the Figure Eight all over her now. " John B replied as he sat down next to him.

"I think it's unfair of you to judge me for Gemma Mercer when you're fucking Sarah Cameron. Who is Rafe Cameron's sister." JJ replied with a glare.

"Sarah isn't like Rafe."

"And neither is Gemma! So to not judge her you need to put your dick in her? Fuck you , JB. I'm outta here." JJ mumbled as he got up and walked off the dock.

"JJ , don't leave. We just think you're being irrational. She's a nice girl, but have you ever stopped to think that she's playing you? All of you? Rafe. Topper. And you?" Pope asked as he tried to stop his friend from walking down the driveway.

"For what reason?" JJ asked with his hands tossed out, exasperated.

"I don't know. For you, the Royal Merchant? Using Rafe, Ward's money? And Topper, to fuck with Rafe." Kiara replied, still angry.

"Wait. You told her about the Merchant?" John B asked as he walked closer to his friend. That was their mission.

"It may have come up. But she wanted to know us. To know me! So I told her. She didn't ask to come along. And I didn't ask her either. When we were together we talked. Yeah, we had sex. Awesome sex. But it wasn't just that and.. whatever." JJ rambled before he huffed out a breath of frustration at his vulnerability and stalked off down the driveway.

As he made his way down the street JJ realized he didn't want to go home. He couldn't go home. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled the only person he knew would understand.

"Hey, babe. Been a while . Can I see you?"

[selene-tempest]

It’s my birthday and apparently the hubby isn’t going to let me ignore it...

((Author lady is putting this up now to celebrate, but it won’t be uploaded to Ao3 yet because it doesn’t fit the timeline at the moment, so you’ll have to wait.))

“What do you mean she’s not coming home?” Scott asked.

“She’s not coming home,” John replied with a shrug. What else was there to say? How else could he make that simple sentence any clearer?

"Like never again?" Alan whimpered. 

John didn't dignify that with an answer. 

“But why?” Gordon asked.

“Because she doesn’t want to.”

“Did you try to talk her round?” Scott asked.

“Of course I did, but she’s being stubborn, and you know what she's like when she sets her mind to something.”

“Why? Did we do something wrong? Does she not love us any more?” Alan asked, looking like he was about to cry.

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course she still loves you. Do you honestly think that after four years in this family and all the things we’ve been through, this would be the time she decided she wanted out?” John couldn’t believe how dramatic they were all being about it.

“But it’s her birthday, she should be here with us,” Scott said firmly, like that was all there was to it. 

“Yes, her birthday, and she does have a choice in the matter,” John reminded him.

“No, she doesn’t.”

“You can tell her then,” John said. “Because I’m certainly not going to get involved with that.”

“Did she at least say why?” Virgil asked, ever the sane one.

“Yes, she said that she isn’t having a birthday this year, she’s ignoring it because someone,” John paused to glare meaningfully at Scott, “keeps teasing her about getting old because she’s hitting the big Three-O.”

Scott sniggered quietly to himself.

“I wouldn’t be so proud of it if I were you,” John warned him,

“I didn’t even say anything that bad to her,” Scott protested weakly.

“No, but you asked me what it was like being married to a cougar that only wanted me for my youthful body.”

Scott sniggered again, turning it into a cough when John’s glare rached up a notch.

“And yesterday you got up off the couch and asked her if she wanted to sit down,” Virgil added.

“I was being considerate!”

“If that was the case you shouldn’t have said that you were doing it because it’s only polite to give your seat up for the elderly,” Gordon laughed.

“Oh for the…” John dropped his head into his hands in utter despair. Scott was just lucky that he was only there in hologram form or he’d have punched him. 

Scott just shrugged. “She needs to come home, it’s her birthday.”

“Well she’s not going to,” John told him, wondering if he should whip out the hand puppets to get him to understand the simple answer of no.

“Go and get her, she’ll do it if you tell her to,” Alan tried.

“Let me think about it...no.”

“Aw, come on, John, please?” Alan was going to pout, John just knew it.

“I’ll try,” John sighed, knowing he was beaten.

-x-

“Come on, love, get out of bed.”

“No,” Selene said, her voice muffled since her head was currently stuffed under a pillow.

“Everyone wants to see you,” John wheedled.

“I don’t care, I’m not moving.”

“You have to celebrate your birthday.”

“Lies! I say the same thing to you every year and every year you tell me you don’t want a fuss. No party, no going anywhere, no nothing. Why can’t I do the same?”

“Because I’m me and you’re you. You’re the sociable part of our couple, you’re the one that forces me to go places I don’t want to by insisting that I'll have a good time when I get there.”

“And you still argue, complain and refuse to go. Maybe I’ve finally started to listen to you and realised you were right all along, birthdays are bad, social is bad, celebrating anything is bad. I get it, you were right.”

“Don’t even try that,” John warned her.

“Try what?” she mumbled innocently.

“Telling me that I’m right so I’ll be so shocked I won’t argue with you any more.”

“It was worth a shot,” she grumbled to herself.

“Enough of this,” John declared, grabbing the edge of the duvet and yanking it off the bed, revealing his darling wife lying flat out on her belly like a dead starfish. “Come on, get up.”

“No! I’m not getting up. If you really loved me and wanted me to celebrate you’d go and get a Chinese and eat it in bed with me.”

John paused for a second, because honestly that did sound very tempting… no, he had a duty as a husband, a duty to give his wife a birthday she wouldn’t forget for such a milestone. 

“No, we’re doing something for your birthday and that’s final. You asked me to trust you for my birthday last year-”

“And you didn’t! You bitched and tried to seduce me into staying on Five and ignoring the trouble I and everyone else had gone to.”

“Never happened,” he lied smoothly. “You have two choices, get up and come with me or I’ll call your mother and let her drag you out of this pit.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed. 

“Oh, wouldn’t I?”

“No, because then you’d have to talk to her and you know how that would go,” Selene left the threat hanging in the air.

John paused, his brain frantically scurrying to come up with something like a hamster spinning on its wheel. What could he do that would be special for her birthday? He’d used up his one good idea planning a night away for the four year anniversary of the night they met… huh..maybe he could… 

He pulled his phone out and sent a quick message to EOS asking her to get to work rearranging the surprise. Selene's birthday was close enough to their anniversary, shifting the two bookings he had made shouldn't be too much trouble.

“Fine, then you have two more choices, get up and pack yourself an overnight bag and be waiting patiently for me to get back so we can go, or I’ll pack for you and throw you over my shoulder and drag you out. Choose wisely.”

“I choose door number three.”

“Stop being dramatic, plus you know that’s not an option. You can see your family tomorrow, for today you’re mine. I would strongly advise you pick the first option as you know my idea of suitable clothes to pack differs wildly from yours, you know I can’t be trusted…”

“Not convinced.”

Huffing he grabbed hold of her legs and yanked her backwards down the bed. She shrieked like a fire alarm. He ignored it. Flipping her over he tugged on her arms, pulling her into a sitting position.

“There’s my beautiful wife,” he lied, taking in the messy hair, mascara smudged around her eyes and the fact she was wearing the hideous nightshirt that he loathed with the fire of a thousand suns. 

She snorted, clearly not falling for his line.

He knelt down beside the bed, taking her hands in his.

“Do you trust me?”

“Most of the time.”

“Then trust me now, do as you’re told and stop being obstinate for the sake of it. Think about it, you and me, a whole night away…”

“And no mention of my birthday?” she clarified.

“Not if you don’t want it,” he promised. “I had something arranged for our anniversary but I think you need it a little earlier.”

She still looked suspicious but she reluctantly nodded her agreement. “Alright, I’ll trust you.”

“Good. I’m going to head back to the island to pick up Dad’s plane-”

“Plane? Just where are we going, exactly?”

“That’s on a need to know basis and right now you don’t need to know,” he told her. “Just concentrate on getting yourself ready, have a shower if you want to, dress in something you feel amazing in and be ready in two hours.”

“You’re really not going to tell me anything?”

“Nope, now move your backside,” he ordered, giving her butt a little swipe.

-x-

John had walked straight out of their flat after giving her her orders, leaving her to it. She procrastinated for half an hour, feeling that he would have totally won and she would have lost if she got up and did as she was told straight away. She needed to keep some form of dignity and control over her own dramatic leanings. 

She then slowly packed a few essentials, throwing in a nice maxi skirt, some leggings she could wear under it if they were going anywhere cold, a peasants blouse along with underbust corset she could add to jazz it up in case they went anywhere fancy, a thick shawl for chilly weather, a T-shirt to wear in bed, fresh underwear, makeup bag, toiletries and she was done.

She did take a shower, not because he suggested it but because she felt a bit grotty and knew it would make her feel better. She resisted the urge to stare at herself in the mirror and scrutinise her naked body until she wanted nothing more than to hide back in bed again, and got on with the laborious task of hair washing, leg shaving and getting dressed.

She was just about ready in jeans, T-shirt and a hoodie she’d stolen from Alan, comfy travelling clothes, when he texted to demand her presence downstairs. 

He had an automated taxi waiting that took them straight out of town to the nearby private airfield that Scott used whenever he was taking a break and leaving One at the island in case of emergencies, although this wasn’t a surprise since he had said he was going to get Jeff’s jet. 

The flight time had been relatively short in relation to standard commercial flights, only an hour and a half, but when you were used to being in a family that could zip across the globe in half an hour it was quite long. This comparison did absolutely nothing to tell her where they were at any given moment or where they were going to end up, so she stuck with sitting quietly, letting him get on with the whole flying thing.

“Are you still grumpy at me for making you leave the house?” John asked after half an hour of mostly silence from Selene.

“No,” she sighed, “I just really didn’t feel like doing anything, I’m not sure I’m going to be the best company at the moment.”

“Did I ask for you to be good company? It’s not like I’m a shining example of how to be the life and soul of a party.”

“I know, sorry, I just kinda wanted to forget about it. Everyone wants to make a big deal about my birthday and I don’t. Mum wanted to drag me around to visit people, to which I firmly said no, so she’s not really talking to me at the moment. She did that a lot when I was a kid, kept having parties and events that were loosely based on one of our birthdays, but she’d invite a lot of her friends and family members we didn’t really like. She’d have a great time but we didn’t because it just wasn’t what we wanted to do."

“I can understand that, Grandma was much the same.”

“Plus it’s the first big thing, apart from our wedding, without Dad and I’m just not really in the mood to celebrate, I’d rather just have a quiet night in and get a pizza or something.”

So that was what was really bothering her. Not so much the fact that she was getting older, though he was sure that wasn’t helping, but the fact that her Dad wasn’t going to be there. He could understand her point. Scott had turned thirty while their father had still been missing, presumed dead and it hadn’t been the celebration it should have been. Birthdays without their Mom had been much the same, celebrating milestones without important people was always hard. Maybe they were a little guilty of forgetting what that felt like, since their Father had been recovered after so many years. They were used to him being there again and didn’t let themselves dwell on the past if they could help it. 

“I promise you that we don’t even have to think about your birthday,” John assured her. “This is just us, having a night away from the madness that is our lives and tomorrow I’ll send Virgil to pick up Celia and Adam, she loves him so she'll behave, to bring them back to the Island for the night so we can have a quiet family dinner. Will that work for you?”

She thought about it for a moment or two, but could see no other way of getting around it.

“Yep, that’ll do.” 

"Good," he smiled, turning away tk check on the course settings. 

Watching him fly the plane, knowing he had put in a lot of effort already made her feel  like a complete bitch.

“I’m sorry, it’s not that I don’t appreciate you going to all this effort to arrange something, I didn’t mean to be a grumpy cow.”

“I’ll let you off this once, because it’s your birthday,” he teased, earning himself a half hearted glare that turned into a giggle as she finally let go of the tension she had been holding onto.

“I’m gonna smack you, you know that, right?” she warned him.

“Not while I’m flying, and maybe wait until after dinner, I’ll be slower then and easier for you to catch.”

“Noted,” she nodded, reaching over to drop her hand on his knee.

“I hope you’re not planning on distracting me,” he said mildly, acting as if nothing was happening, his eyes on the sky. 

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not, or is that another thing best left until after dinner when you’re too full to run away?”

“I could handle a little distraction now, but if you want me to be able to reciprocate with a little distraction technique of my own, you’re going to have to wait.”

“I’ll wait,” she decided, but that didn’t stop her leaning closer to smack a kiss to his neck. “Have I told you today that I love you, husband?”

“No, you were too busy ignoring me, wife. My heart is shattered by the way.”

“Oh, yes, you seem so very heart broken.”

“I’m hiding it well.”

“Sure you are,” she drawled, trying very hard not to laugh. “I do love you though.”

“As you should.”

His tone was so serious that she lost the battle to hold herself together and started to laugh. John smiled to himself, relieved to see that she had perked up. Hopefully she would have loosened up enough to enjoy the activities he’d planned for them both that evening as they were certainly more her thing than his.

John landed the JT1 on what appeared to be a small runway with a barn, in a field, in the middle of nowhere. He had refused to let her see where they were travelling to, insisting she pull down the window blind next to her as they got closer and close her eyes for the last three minutes of their descent and landing.

A local woman was there to meet them, her accent saying she was american, southern by the sound of it, although Selene wasn’t too good at identifying accents. After the woman had opened the barn doors and John had taxied the small jet into it, she introduced herself as Cherise. Hands were shaken and pleasantries exchanged before she led them to the small truck that she had parked nearby. A five minute drive and���

“Is that a river boat?” Selene asked, unable to figure out just what the heck was going on.

“Yep, now get on,” John instructed, guiding her onto the walkway with one hand while grabbing their bags with the other. They waved a goodbye to Cherise who assured John she’d be ready and waiting the next day and to just text when she was needed, and went in search of seats.

The boat was more of a ferry, containing around 150 seats, only half of which were filled.

"Now will you tell me where we're going?" 

"No, I don't think I will."

"You would if you loved me."

"Its because I love you that I'm not telling you," he replied cryptically, getting up from his seat and moving to the front where an attendant sat. 

“What river is this?” Selene sneakily asked a nearby passenger as John paid their fare, a measly sum of five dollars each.

“Please don’t answer her,” John called over, obviously overhearing.

The man chuckled, having been shamelessly listening in and finding the situation most amusing. “Are you being kidnapped?” 

“I don’t know, you'd better ask my husband,” she pouted. 

“It’s her birthday and it’s a surprise,” John explained as he returned to his seat next to her. “She’s being impatient and sneaky.”

“You’ll only have to wait five minutes,” the man told her, patting her shoulder. “Surely that’s not too bad?”

“You’d think so,” Selene huffed, crossing her arms as the boat slid out of the dock and out into the open water.

Just as their fellow passenger had promised, just a shade under five minutes later the boat cruised into another dock and they were ushered off.

“Now will you tell me where we are?”

“Nope, not quite yet,” John grinned, enjoying this game immensely. Tucking her hand into his they followed the stream of passengers out of the dockyard and onto the streets beyond.

It wasn’t until she saw the streetcar waiting for the offloading passengers that she figured it out. 

“Oh my gods, you didn’t?” she gasped, the pieces of the jigsaw finally sliding into place. The river, which surely had to be the Mississippi, the streetcars and the friendliness of the locals, there was only one place they could be. The city of New Orleans was famous for being one of the only places in the world to still have a working historical streetcar line, something she had heard all about from her friends who had been lucky enough to visit. It was one of the places on her bucket list, her spiritual home for her laidback, chilled out self.

“I did,” he smirked, feeling incredibly pleased with himself at that moment, knowing that his hunch had been correct.

"You are amazing!" she screamed, throwing her arms around his neck. 

“Finally you realise it,” he teased, wrapping his arms around her waist for stability as she bounced enthusiastically on the spot, almost knocking him over. “Shall I assume you approve?”

“Hell yes I approve!” she squealed, smacking a kiss to his lips.

“Good, because we’ve got a full evening booked up.”

“And time factored in for a wander?”

“Translation, time to look at some shops?”

“Obviously.”

“Maybe we can find a little time tomorrow morning,” he allowed. She smiled happily, knowing that was a yes. 

She squeezed up as close to the window as possible on the streetcar, wanting to see everything, squeaking and pointing like an excited child whenever she saw something she recognised.

When he had been thinking of somewhere to take her for an overnight stay he'd happened to overhear a phone conversation between Selene and another friend. They had been discussing a mutual friend and their shop in New Orleans and had spent ten minutes talking about the area with Selene saying how much she wanted to go, how it was on her list of places to visit before she died. The answer, it seemed, had quite conveniently fallen into his lap. 

It had been simple enough to organise, just a hotel booking, pick up from the landing area in St Bernard Parish and tickets for the tour he’d found. He’d planned on surprising her for their anniversary, knowing that it would never be something she would think to plan herself. She knew their busy lives, knew that time off was a rarity that could never be counted on, plans often had to be ditched at the last minute and so she never made them, not wanting him to feel bad if her efforts went to waste because IR were called out and he had to return to Five. 

He had thought she would want to do something with family and friends for her birthday so had booked for the week after, but once again she had surprised him with her insistence that she wasn’t going to celebrate. So he’d had to make some quick decisions, adapt, improvise, overcome.

He kept his eye on his phone, watching the little dot moving on the screen that was them and their streetcar, waiting for the right stop to disembark. Seeing the stop for Toulouse Station coming up he grabbed their bags and waited for her to notice. When she didn't, so engrossed was she in the streets going past, he had to catch her hand and tug her out of her seat. 

“Come on, we’re walking from here,” he instructed, pushing the bell to indicate to the driver, nothing was automated in New Orleans if they could help it, that they wanted to get off.

The stop wasn’t terribly close to the hotel he’d booked, but he’d thought it would be nice to walk, allowing her to see the sights a little and familiarise themselves with the layout of the area.

They walked hand in hand through Jackson Square and out onto St Ann street. St Ann’s was a pleasant walk past a number of shops, bars and restaurants, the end of which intersected onto Bourbon Street. Selene insisted on dipping into a gift shop and grabbing a few items for the family, just in case they didn’t get a chance to later. It took all his skills in sneaky manipulation, and promises of later distractions, to get her moving again, following the street until they reached their hotel. The whole walk took them less than half an hour but they were already feeling a little damp and sweaty.

The Lafitte Guest House was on the quieter end of Bourbon, something he knew both of them would appreciate. Selene liked her sleep and hated being woken suddenly and, although she suffered it well on the island, he knew for a fact that she would not appreciate it while they were away. He’d debated the wisdom of knowingly booking into a haunted hotel but experience had told him that his wife would find a spirit no matter where they were and at least this way they would be forewarned.

“This place is so nice,” she had cooed, running a hand along the ornate wooden handrail on the staircase. 

“It’s a little smaller than some of the fancier hotels, but I thought you’d prefer the atmosphere here.”

“I do, it’s the perfect choice,” Selene agreed as they were shown to their room. And it was, a three storey building that fitted in perfectly with its surroundings, the classic New Orleans French inspired architecture.

“This building was constructed in 1849,” their concierge told them, “by the same man who designed our opera house, Robert Seaton."

He turned down a hallway, beckoning them to follow along. 

"I’m afraid, although your original booking was for our most haunted room, room 21, it is already occupied, I do hope that won’t be a problem?”

“Not at all,” John assured him. “Any room you have will be fine, we’re just thankful you could accommodate us at such short notice.”

“No problem at all,” the man said, leading them up a flight of stairs and along a corridor. He opened the room with a flourish, stepping aside to allow them to enter.

The room itself, much like the rest of the hotel, was like stepping back in time, containing period furniture, a lovely large four poster bed and large french door windows that opened out onto a small wrought iron balcony overlooking Bourbon street. 

“It’s gorgeous,” Selene sighed, flopping backwards onto the bed with a woop of delight.

“Happy wife, happy life,” John quoted, much to the man’s amusement. 

“Will you be requiring anything else, sir?”

“No, thank you, we’re just going to freshen up and then head out to dinner," he said, dropping Selene's bag in a nearby chair." Actually, is there anywhere you can recommend?”

“Many places, but I’d say the best idea is to follow your nose and your stomach, although I would encourage you to try something authentic, the gumbo at SoBou is my favourite.”

“Then we’ll be sure to try there,” John promised. “Sel, are you done messing up the bed?”

“Nope,” she answered, continuing to roll around like a happy puppy, burying her face in the pillow.

“I’ll leave you in peace,” the man laughed, backing out of the room after John shook his hand, discreetly pressing a twenty into the man’s palm.

“I’m going to freshen up with a shower,” John told her. “Try not to fall asleep.”

“I could come with you,” she offered, perking up at the idea, sitting up on the bed expectantly.

“No, I’m far too hungry for that, besides which we have somewhere to be tonight, so your continued attempts to distract me will have to wait,” he told her, grabbing his bag and firmly shutting the bathroom door behind him.

“Unfair,” she pouted, flopping back down again. “It is my birthday you know!”

-x-

“I literally can’t eat another bite,” Selene complained, pushing her bowl aside with half the, admittedly delicious, Jambalaya still in it.

“That’s because you ate four bits of bread before they brought the food out,” John told her, finishing the last bite of his gumbo and wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“I regret nothing,” she insisted, reaching over to swipe the crust of a piece of bread off his side plate, wiping it through the sauce left in his bowl.

“I thought you were too full to eat another bite?” he asked as she popped it in her mouth, chewing hard before swallowing to answer him.

“Of my own food, obviously, yours is fair game,” she sipped her coke and smiled sweetly.

“Of course, how stupid of me not to realise that.”

“It really was,” she agreed, holding in a giggle at the martyred look on his face.

“Dessert?” he eventually asked once she stopped sniggering like an idiot. 

“Obviously, do you want to share one?” 

“Sure,” John shrugged, at ease with pretty much anything at that moment. He had worried that he might find the whole area overwhelming as it had a reputation as a nonstop party town. He’d been dreading crowds of people getting too close for comfort, being too loud, too boisterous and invasive. But he’d found that, while it was loud it wasn’t unbearable, seeming to consist of a lot of music, laughter and the occasional shout. 

Although it was crowded, they weren’t shoving and barging, they were respectful of personal space and friendly enough without being over friendly.  It was a pleasant surprise, one that was reflecting in his current mood. Selene, for her part, was so chilled out she was practically horizontal, four witch types had already waved hello and greeted her like a long lost friend even though she didn’t know them at all and she seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the experience, her grumpy mood of earlier completely forgotten. 

“What do you fancy?” Selene asked, currently studying the dessert menu on the board.

“Besides my gorgeous wife?”

“Yeah, besides her, wives are not for eating,” Selene snorted.

“I beg to differ.”

Selene tore her eyes away from the menu to look at him. He lifted his bottle of beer and took an innocent sip, his eyes projecting trustworthiness. She wasn't fooled. 

“Something chocolatey?” she offered, trying to distract herself away from the thought of his mouth on something other than the neck of the bottle.

He thought about it for a second or two then shook his head. “Maybe something with fruit?”

“ Or possibly Ice Cream?”

“Maybe,” he studied the menu himself. “Bananas Foster?”

“Perfect,” she nodded.

They finished up the last of their meal at a leisurely pace, chatting in between sharing bites of the delicious dessert. Bananas Foster was a favourite of Gordon’s and she snapped a picture to send to him later, wanting to make him jealous.

John paid the bill, leaving a generous tip and reached for her hand, guiding her outside. He took out his phone, checking the time and location for their next activity. Keeping hold of her hand, using it to pull her in closer to his side, he led the way further down Bourbon and onto St Peter’s where the tour guide would hopefully be waiting.

"Hello!" one of their guides greeted them as they closed in on the group of maybe twenty people already waiting there. "Tracy, party of two?" 

"That's us," John confirmed and Selene nodded too. She had no reason to, she just wanted to look like she had some kind of clue as to why they were there and what was going on. 

"Good, then you're the last ones, let's get started. I'm Delphine, this is Remi, and we'll be your guides on this, the world famous New Orleans Ghost Tour." 

Selene squeezed his hand excitedly and he allowed himself to release the breath he had been holding. It was always a bit of a gamble with her when it came to planning anything like this. In most things she was incredibly laid back, but when it was anything that involved the potential for witchcraft, mediumship or ghosts then you were swimming in muddy water. It depended on how respectful the people involved were. He had done his research as best he could, seeing that the tour had been running for more than 80 years in some form or another and that they didn't employ the use of jump scares, people in costumes or sensationalise it in any way. He just hoped it was all it promised to be. 

"This is a two hour walking tour, ending with a visit to the beautiful and very haunted St Louis Cemetery No 1," Delphine informed them all. "But we're going to start right here in the heart of the French quarter where murder, mystery and voodoo magic helped shape our history."

The other attendees ooed and ahhed, already impressed by the mere thought of ghosts and ghoulies. 

Selene was busily looking around them curiously as they wandered slowly down the street, Delphine and Remi giving them a run down on the architecture, the history, the customs and the people that make up New Orleans. But he could feel that she was already on alert, the hand that held on tightly to his arm seeming to warm against his skin, letting him know that her gifts had already awoken, sitting up to take notice. 

As they walked they were told a little about the Le Petite Theatre and the young chorus girl who, falling out of favour with the producer, hung herself above the stage during the opening night's performance. Legend had it that every opening night her shadowy form could be seen hanging against the backdrop of the stage.

The first place they stopped at properly to take pictures and listen to the full history was the Andrew Jackson hotel, somewhere John had looked at as a possible place to stay but had decided against it when he had realised it was on the tour.

“The Andrew Jackson, once a boarding house for boys, fell victim to two major fires at the end of the 1700’s,” Delphine told them. Her voice was pleasant to listen to, loud enough that they didn’t have to strain their ears but soft and lilting in that southern way that put you at ease instantly. 

“One of those fires burnt the school to the ground, killing a number of young residents. The spirits of the boys are often seen and heard in the hotel, being described as mischievous spirits who like to play outside people’s rooms at night. One guest reported waking up in the middle of the night to see three small boys sitting on the end of her bed. Of course, she screamed, which the boys copied, screaming back at her in terror before vanishing.”

“Can you sense anything?” John whispered to Selene, making sure to keep his voice low, not wishing to interrupt Delphine or distract the other people listening. 

Selene waggled her hand back and forth in a ‘meh’ gesture, indicating it could be something or nothing. 

“I can feel energy from there, but nothing is coming forward to say hello,” she whispered back. “If we were inside I’m sure I’d get something more but out here, not being funny but the spirits are probably so used to tourists coming through that we’re boring to them now. That and, where I’m usually one of the only mediumistic people to come in to talk to spirits, there are tons here, you can trip over a witch by accident. So they are probably just keeping themselves to themselves.”

“Fair enough,” John chuckled, he always loved the way she explained things, a mixture of simplistic and colourful language with a hint of ‘I’m the expert’ that he so admired.

They continued walking, Remi pointing out interesting landmarks and telling the odd story of a murder or some other tragedy that had occured until they reached their next proper stop.

“Here we are at the historic, and very popular, Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop Bar, the oldest in the city. History is mixed on whether this building was owned by the famed Lafitte brothers, Jean, or John, and Pierre or just named after them. Some accounts say that they ran the blacksmith shop as a front, others say that they cannot find any actual evidence of their involvement. All we know for sure is that they were nasty pieces of work.” Remi swept a hand out, gesturing towards the bar that was already hopping even though it was still relatively early.

“Jean and Pierre, the Pirate Captains, were instrumental in helping to win the battle of New Orleans during the war of 1812 against the British,“ Delphine continued to explain, glancing at Selene and winking at the mention of the British. “Jean was given a pardon for all his misdeeds as reward for their help, but in exchange he was ordered to leave the state of Louisiana.”

“Bit mean,” Selene whispered to John, who nodded in agreement, imagining how it would feel to help save a city only to be thrown out of it. 

“It’s said that they left great treasures around the French Quarter and in the Mississippi itself which have never been found. The only other person that knew of their whereabouts was a fellow pirate that Jean made the mistake of trusting. Unfortunately, as is often the way with pirates, he was untrustworthy, returning again and again to the cache's to skim a little off the top, so to speak. When Jean found out he did a little skimming of his own, he killed the pirate and it’s said that his spirit is cursed to guard the treasure forever more.”

“That’s a bit of a rough deal,” Selene muttered. “All eternity guarding something he can’t have? That’s like Virgil dying and hovering over the coffee pot.”

John snorted out a laugh, picturing his brother in ghost form, wailing as Scott took the coffee pot, poured himself a cup and drank it in front of him. 

As they wandered on, John and Selene were asked for a few selfies by tourists not in their group and they had to hurry to catch up a few times, finding it impossible to be rude and refuse even though John would have much rather done so.

They were told of the Pharmacy Museum. The building had the dubious honour of being the first licensed pharmacy in the United States but the treatments offered often did more harm than good, verging on barbaric. From drilling holes in skulls to relieve the pressure as a cure for headaches, to chemical concoctions that would have you put in prison were you to use them today. 

The second doctor to practice there was known to kidnap pregnant women and perform horrific experiments on them and it was his grizzly spirit that was said to shunt the building still.

They stopped outside a large, three storey building, getting comfortable as their guide started her story.

“The Palace, the Sultan’s house and the murder house,” Remi called out over the increasing noise of the streets and the chatting of the tour attendees. “All names for this building. Originally the second home of a wealthy businessman, he was hardly ever in residence and often rented it out in exchange for some extra cash that he probably didn’t need. Legends differ, one saying that the mysterious young man, a tall, dark and handsome stranger, was the brother of a sultan, hence the name, while others talk of him being some kind of demon or devil.”

“Demon’s aren’t real are they?” John asked Selene in a side whisper. She didn’t answer but her scrunched up nose and avoidance of his eyes told him all he needed to know. 

“Do you know any?”

She nodded vaguely, clearly not comfortable talking about such things out in the open as they were so he took the hint and shut up, tuning back into the talk.

“The man was very exotic,” Delphine was saying. “He had an accent that no one could place, he arrived with a full entourage of young and beautiful people, both male and female. Again, here accounts differ, some say that the Sultan actually hired a number of assassins to murder his brother and his entourage but others are far more sensational.”

“How much more sensational could it get?” an older woman whispered to her partner. 

“I don’t know,” the other woman whispered back, “maybe an orgy?”

John dropped her chin to Selene’s shoulder, burying his face in her neck as he tried not to laugh. Selene was less composed, out right giggling as he pulled her closer, his arms around her waist so she could lean back against his chest.

“The man and his ‘family’, for that was how he referred to them on the rent agreement, moved in. They immediately closed all the window shutters, hung heavy drapes and weren’t really ever seen again, although the neighbors knew they were in there. They could smell food cooking, they heard music playing at night and the smell of incense often wafted out. But, more disturbingly, the sound of screams would be heard, although it was never known if they were of pain, or pleasure. After a while the house grew quiet, no signs of life were seen and with the silence came a sickening smell. When the police broke down the door they found a scene that they likened to a slaughter house. Dead bodies were everywhere, blood splattered the walls and in the garden they found a freshly dug grave that contained the body of a man, supposedly buried alive. “

“Damn,” the woman who had suggested the orgy, muttered to her partner. "That's definitely not as much fun."

“As I said, accounts vary, some say that it was the sultan’s brother’s harem that had been killed and the brother was the body found in the garden, others say that the family escaped and killed those that either attacked them or that they were demons feeding on the flesh and souls of their victims. We will never know for sure. But rumour has it that the ghost of the sultan’s brother haunts these halls, that passers by still smell the incense and that the echoing screams can still be heard coming from inside.”

“Anything there?” John murmured in her ear, nodding towards the big building.

“There’s definitely an energy of some kind in there,” she answered, keeping her voice low and quiet. “It feels more like residual energy though, not so much an active spirit, but I'd have to be inside to know for sure.”

As they walked Delphine told them of another house, 734 Royal Street where a young black woman had frozen to death on the roof, having been told to disrobe and wait up there by her lover as a joke. He never expected her to do it and was the unlucky person to find her the next morning, naked, frozen, dead on the rooftop. It was said he died soon after from a broken heart.

Some people report to have seen a woman standing on the roof, being concerned enough to call the police. But as soon as the police hear the address they are known to dismiss it as just Julie, still waiting.

Next on their stop was the LaLaurie Mansion. Delphine, their guide, told them the story of Delphine LaLaurie, the beautiful lady of the house who married a man named Louie LaLaurie, a doctor from Europe. They were what was considered an it couple of the time, the height of fashion and threw extravagant parties to show off their wealth and to network.  

The only thing of note that anyone found strange about them was the high number of slaves they seemed to own. Delphine LaLaurie would explain it away as nothing if you asked, brushing it off but if you continued to press the issue, or asked anyone else, you would find yourself ousted, shunned, never to be invited back again.

On the tenth of April 1834, whilst hosting another of their elaborate events a fire broke out in the house. The fire brigade were called and soon had the flames under control. Everything seemed fine, the damage seemed to be minimal but they checked the area thoroughly, just to be sure.

The fire looked to have originated in the kitchen and there they found an older enslaved woman, huddled close to an open window, coughing harshly, almost overcome by smoke. They wondered why she had not left through the window to save herself, but they soon found the answer. They discovered that she was chained to the stove by her ankle, unable to even leave the room, let alone the house itself.

They questioned her on the fire and she admitted that she was responsible, she had set the fire. When they asked why she pointed above her head and told them to look in there. In the room above the kitchen, the slaves quarters, they met with the most horrific sight.

The attic room was full of tortured, mutilated slaves. The doors had been locked but they had soon broken it down. As soon as the doors had opened the smell that hit them had made them heave, some of them needing to turn away to vomit. Papers from the time told of at least seven slaves, chained, beaten, tortured. Victims of pain experiments, their muscles and limbs stretched and broken.

Even though the people of time didn’t hold slaves in the same regard as others they were up in arms, calling for the LaLaurie’s blood. A mob gathered outside but they could not find them, the LaLaurie’s had made their escape in a carriage.

“People talk of a dark and depressive atmosphere in the house,” Remi continued, “and many have reported to have seen the ghost of LaLaurie. A young couple once lived here with their baby. One night the man awoke to see a woman standing over the crib. At first he thought it was his wife but she was right there in bed beside him and she didn’t have long, red hair. He yelled out loud and the woman turned to look at him before running away. He made to follow but something told him not to, instead he stopped to check the baby. The baby’s sock had been removed and had been stuffed deep down into the baby's mouth, partially down its throat, choking it.”

“I don’t like this one,” Selene whispered, her eyes fixed on the building in front of them. Even though it was a lovely warm night and she had her shawl around her shoulders, John could feel that she was shivering and wrapped his arms around her tighter.

“There’s a darkness in there, not like at the Sultan’s Palace, different. I feel that this building still has evil inside it. The energy is so...spikey,” she finished, not really knowing how to describe it. “Like it could prick you or hurt you just because you were there. I can’t say if there are any spirits in there, I’d have to go in for that, but the things that happened in there, it’s soaked into the walls, the floor, everything.” 

She shuddered again, taking an instinctive step backwards, forcing John to do the same or have her knock him over. He knew what she meant, the house felt strange even to him, like every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to turn around and leave. He was a Tracy, he didn’t back down from anything, even with the fine hairs at the back of his neck standing to attention, but he was more than happy to start walking as the tour moved on.

The last stop on their tour before they moved on to the cemetery was the famous house of Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans who, despite being dead for over 250 years, still seemed to hold some sway over the city, still having powers from beyond the grave.

“Born in 1801, to a wealthy white plantation owner and her black mother, Marie was said to be incredibly beautiful,” Delphine told them. “She married and went on to have two children before her husband mysteriously went missing. After this she called herself a widow, though some people believe that this was simply to save face and that he had actually abandoned her and their children.”

“Is this place any better?” John asked, his voice low in her ear, making her shiver for an entirely different reason.

“Much better,” she replied, keeping her voice quiet. “I can feel power here, but it’s neutral, nothing that I would call malevolent or nasty.”

“After her husband’s disappearance she was in need of money with which to take care of herself and her children. With precious little options, she began working in a hair salon, serving wealthy white and Creole women of New Orleans. Just like the salons of today they were a hotbed for gossip and secret spilling. She hoarded the information she was privy to, using to her advantage to rise up the ranks of society.”

“Honestly, I  can respect that woman,” Selene muttered. “I gather gossip and use it to my advantage too.”

“Sweetheart, you said that finding Grandma’s old photo album and stealing the picture of Dad’s emo phase was you doing the Gods work.”

“I stand by that,” she sniffed, ignoring the giggle from the young man standing behind them.

“Marie entered into another relationship with a wealthy and powerful man from a prestigious local family,” Remi continued. “And they had a total of fifteen children in quick succession.”

“Sod that!” Selene yelped, crossing her legs in the ultimate act of self defence. 

“And you said I have too many brothers,” John teased, hugging her tighter when she attempted to elbow him.

“Obviously, with so many children to look after she found that her time was limited,” Delphine said, ignoring Selene’s outburst. “She quit her job at the hair salon and devoted herself to raising her children. It’s believe that this was the time when she started to pay more attention to her mothers voodoo beliefs and practices.”

The story, which Delphine and Remi continued to tell them as they walked towards their last stop of the night, St Louis Cemetery number one, said that while she had a basic knowledge from her mother she learnt most of her craft from a voodoo doctor known only as Doctor John.

Selene turned her head back to look at John as she walked beside her. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a side hustle in Voodoo? You’ve been making me do all the magical heavy lifting for years.”

“Well, I had to leave you with something to do to make you feel useful,” he retorted, smacking a kiss on her lips when she squeaked a protest.

“Quite Christian based in the prayers used, voodoo combines the use of saints, incense and dance into its practice,” Remi continued as they walked. “She was known for her pet snake which she had named Zombie, and for providing Gri-Gri bags, spiritual readings, spells, fortune telling and mediumship for the wealthy of New Orleans upper class. She was said to have died with a smile on her face in 1881 and, when her death was reported in the newspapers they called her the kindest woman that had ever lived. She was said to have nursed the sick and helped out with all manner of problems that people might have, although many said it wasn’t so much because of her magical abilities that she was so powerful, but the secrets that she kept. Secrets that kept many politicians in her debt.”

They came to stop outside the crumbling white walls that surrounded the cemetery, glowing eerily in the rapidly darkening twilight between dusk and full night. The walls themselves were actually made up of wall tombs, a place for families who couldn’t afford a large above ground one.

“Marie Laveau was laid to rest right here in this very cemetery. It’s said that she still wields a remarkable amount of power even from beyond the grave, so much so that people often petition her spirit in the hopes that she will grant their wishes,” Delphine said as they entered. 

She and Remi led the way through a maze of tombs, some old and crumbling, others surrounded by iron railings that tilted at odd angles due to age and decay, some large, some small, some classical, some extravagant while others were just so outlandish that they looked completely out of place.

They stopped beside a rather plain white tomb, relatively small in comparison to some of the others they had already seen. Delphine reached out a hand to touch the side of the tomb, right beside a green X that had been scrawled on the paint.

“The practice has since been banned and is considered a criminal offence, but in the past people would mark her grave with an X, although as you can see some people ignore the law. The ritual stated that you should mark the grave with an X, turn around three times, knock on the tomb and then yell out your wish. If the wish came true you were supposed to return, draw a circle around your X and leave an offering to the lady.”

“I can think of a few wishes I’d like granted,” a lady in their group stated, making a fair few people laugh. “Not much, just a few million in the bank, a nice house and a good looking man on my arm.”

“Well, I can’t help with the millions,” her husband said, “but at least you have the good looking man.”

“Yeah, in my dreams,” she countered, although he didn’t seem too offended by it.

“Marie’s ghost has been spotted in many locations throughout the French quarter where she made her home," Remi told them. "She is most recognizable by the red and white turban tucked around her hair and the bright clothes she wears. People are still drawn to her and often follow her wanting to introduce themselves but she always vanishes, sometimes right in front of them, before they can do so.”

“She doesn’t sound scary,” a man said dismissively. 

“Oh, she’s seen as very friendly,” Delphine answered, “until you cross her. She’s been seen many times in this cemetery, walking between and sometimes through the tombs. Usually she leaves you be but, if you do anything that she deems disrespectful, such as disregarding or insulting her beliefs or religion she has been known to scratch, pinch and shove people to the ground. Voices have been heard coming from inside her tomb and some people that get too close have reported feeling sick.”

“She’s not too bad,” a voice beside Selene and John said in a conversational tone.

“Have you seen her?” Selene asked, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb Delphine and Remi as they told of the cities other famous inhabitants of the cemetery such as Bernard de Marigny and Barthelemy Lafon.

“Seen who?” John asked, dragging his attention away from the talk and back to her.

“Sorry, wasn’t talking to you,” she whispered.

“Do you happen to know where the Vignes tomb is?” the man asked, changing the subject from ghost talk to something more mundane. 

“No, sorry, we’re just on a tour here, we don’t know the area,” Selene admitted.

“Who were you talking to?”

“This guy,” she said, nodding towards the blond man who had begun to wander closer to the front of the tour group, obviously wanting to take advantage of listening to the information without having to pay for the privilege like the rest of them had.

“Who?”

“Him,” she replied, waving in his direction. "That new guy, he definitely wasn't with us at the start. He must have joined in along the way."

“There’s no one there, Sel,” John said quietly. She looked at him, studying his face to make sure he wasn't messing with her, but he seemed serious enough. She sighed, for someone so observant John certainly seemed to be missing the obvious. 

“Yes there is, he’s right there,”  she insisted. Praying for patience she grabbed his hand to drag him closer. “See? He's right there.”

“Yes,” John gulped, eyes widening, “I actually do see him.”

“Right, so he was saying that Marie Laveau isn’t as bad as everyone says she is, I assume he meant that her spirit isn’t that menacing, I was asking him if he’d seen her but then you interrupted and-”

“Sel,” John interrupted, his eyes locked on the man who was meandering back their way, “I don't think he joined the tour, he just walked straight through that tomb.” 

“Damn, then he’s got some serious energy in him,” she breathed, catching John’s meaning. “He must have if I didn’t sense it straight away.”

“Sorry, I had to listen to make sure they told my story right,” the ghost said, reaching her side. John’s eyes almost fell out of his head, confirming that he could now hear him as well as see him.

“Oh, are you a famous one?” Selene asked as the tour moved on, affording them a little more privacy to talk. 

“My name is  Henry,” he told them, dipping in a courtly little bow. “Oh, that's my cue, if you’ll excuse me…”

Henry vanished and reappeared nearer the front of the tour. Making a face of pure boredom he stepped into a gap between two tombs and moaned in a low, quiet voice. “I need to rest.”

Several people in the tour jumped and an older lady stumbled. John, actinb on instinct, reached out to steady her, letting go of Selene’s hand in the process.

“Where did he go?” John asked, returning to her side after assuring himself that the lady was unharmed. 

“No where, he’s still right there,” she answered, giving Henry a small wave.

“No, he’s not.”

“He is,” she insisted, “come on, we’ll go talk to him again.”

“As we were saying,” Remi could be heard above the mutterings of the other attendees. “The story of Henry Vignes is a sad one. A sailor who trusted the wrong person, Henry died having no place to be laid to rest, his tomb sold by the lady he had entrusted with his most important papers.”

Henry nodded sadly, leaning casually against the side of a tomb.

“He has been seen by many people, usually so clearly that they do not realise that he is even a ghost,” Delphine told them. Henry preened a little at that. 

“He often strolls right up to tourists and asks them where the Vignes tomb is located as he’s having trouble finding it himself. He’s even been known to appear at funerals and ask if there is any room left in there for him.”

Selene giggled, she couldn’t help it and Henry winked at her, tipping his hat before fading away.

“Are you sure he was still there?” John asked later that night as the tour returned to the french quarter meeting place. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” she sighed. “I don’t know what happened there, you seemed to see-”

“And hear,” John added.

“And hear him just fine. Then all of a sudden you couldn’t anymore.”

“I couldn’t at first either,” he reminded her, “I thought you were talking to yourself.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she grumbled. “Sometimes I’m the only person that will listen to me.”

“Was there anything you did that might have allowed me to see him?” John asked, ignoring her insinuation that he never listened to her. He listened to her all the time, he was just selective with what he chose to reply to, knowing she needed very little encouragement with some of her more ridiculous ideas.

“No, I didn’t do anything at all,” she promised him. “All I did was move you closer so I could point him out.”

“You took hold of my hand,” he said, mentally rerunning the moment in his head. “And kept hold of it the whole time.”

“Not the whole time,” she reminded him. “When Henry did his haunting voice that lady stumbled and you caught her before she hit the deck.”

“And I didn’t hold your hand again until we were walking back,” he finished. 

“Nah, it can’t be that simple,” she scoffed. “I hold your hand all the time.”

“But have you ever done it while there was a spirit around?” he asked, guiding her around a group of drunken young ladies all carrying brightly coloured cocktails in yard long plastic containers with straws sticking out of them, most of which were being eagerly slurped from as they walked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, thinking about it. “I don’t think so now that you mention it.”

“Do you think that could be another side effect of that little bonding mistake we made?”

“I guess anything is possible,” she mused. “Tanzi did say that we might keep noticing new things for a while after.”

“I guess there’s only one way to know for sure,” he shrugged, “you’ll just have to make sure you tell me next time you see one.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she promised him. He smiled at that, knowing how just a few years ago she would never have dared to even agree to try, let alone have any intention of doing so. Her ex, Nathaniel was responsible for messing up many things in her life, her confidence in herself and her abilities being one of them, but John was determined that, no matter how long it took, he was going to prove to her that she never needed to be wary again.

Bourbon street at night was like no place they had ever been before. They heard it before they even got close, the neon lights glowing from a distance. The lights reminded Selene of London but that was where the similarities ended. 

The entire street was a wall of noise, music of all kinds seeming to spill out of every single bar on the strip on either side. She felt John tense beside her, knowing that it wasn’t somewhere he would be at all comfortable.

“Do you want to try and avoid it?” she asked and he nodded gratefully. A quick word with Remi and they had secured directions and a suggestion to head down Dauphine St instead of continuing onto Bourbon. They could follow it until they reached St Phillip’s St which would lead them to the intersection where their hotel was located.

They thanked him and Delphine for a fun and informative tour and struck out on their own. Dauphine street was much quieter than Bourbon appeared to be, there were still small crowds milling around outside but not enough to send John into flight mode, so they took that as a win.

“Want to grab a drink?” John offered but Selene shook her head.

“No thanks, I’m not really feeling it today, maybe it’s the crowds or all the walking but I think I’d rather wait until we get closer to the hotel, that way we can find a quieter one to try before we head to bed.”

“Good plan,” he agreed, pulling her in closer. It was only eleven at night, relatively early for them, but they had had a long day and the thought of the comfy bed awaiting them was a very pleasant one.

They located the intersection where Dauphine met St Paul's and soon hit the tail end of Bourbon. From there the music was far more bearable, seeming to be a mixture of classic rock, Selene could hear Smoke on the Water playing from a bar, and some kind of Jazz.

With Virgil, Scott and Jeff being fans of old fashioned Jazz music they decided to move a little further in that direction, meaning to take a video or two to show the others when they got home. That was their first mistake.

“No, no way,” John protested as a woman separated herself from the crowd outside the bar where a band was playing and grabbed his hand.

“Come on, honey, you have to dance,” she insisted, swirling on the spot and dragging him with her.

“Help!” he yelped as his arm was pulled this way and that by the enthusiastic woman. 

“Little busy,” Selene laughed, having been swept up into the arms of a man who was trying to lead her in some kind of 1920’s era Jazz hop dance that involved a lot of quick footwork and much arm waving.

John managed to escape as the band paused before launching into their next number and stole Selene back. She took full advantage, holding on to his hand as the music began to play again. 

A couple near them started something that looked vaguely like a charleston mixed with a waltz that Selene was determined to try to copy. Neither she nor John were very good, not knowing the steps or the music enough to actually follow along and ended up finding their own rhythm, not caring that they didn’t match the others, not caring that they were slower and less energetic. It was nice, it was simple and it was very much them.

“Thank you for forcing me to celebrate my birthday,” she said, pulling him in closer to steal a quick kiss.

“My pleasure,” he grinned, twirling her on the spot then dipping her in his arms. “Anything for the birthday girl.”

-x-

“It was so nice to see Myst again,” Selene sighed, relaxing deeper into the passenger seat of Jeff’s jet as they cruised over the Pacific, on course for Tracy Island. 

“I haven’t seen her in two years, not since she last visited Tanzi, I can’t believe how great the shop looked, they’ve run it for years but don’t get to spend much time there.”

“Well, with what we spent they'll still be open for at least another ten,” he teased, not in the least concerned by her shopping spree. You only turned thirty once and if she wanted to buy up half of the shop that was her choice.

“I didn’t buy that much,” she pouted, but couldn’t hold it for too long when, with a no doubt on purpose twitch of the controls, the little plane rolled sideways, sending a number of bags cascading to the floor.

“You were saying?”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” she huffed, trying not to laugh. "You said they were birthday presents.”

“So I did,” he agreed, lifting his hand off her knee to poke the console, bringing up a comm line to the island, announcing their impending arrival.

Virgil had messaged earlier that morning to say that he was picking up Celia and Adam in time for their return, so all they had to worry about was enjoying a leisurely breakfast.

They took him at his word and shared a delicious three egg omelette, an order of beignets and the best coffee she had tasted in forever.  Bellies full and suitably rested after an uneventful nights sleep in the hotel, the resident ghosts declining to visit, they had wandered around Jackson Square and the shops of the French quarter. 

John had insisted that he was hungry again and craving something special for lunch, that something special had turned out to be oysters. Selene had watched in morbid fascination mixed with horror as he had proceeded to devour a dozen oysters speckled with hot sauce, which she refused to try, while she munched her seafood salad. She was still undecided if watching him swallow them down whole so easily was hot or disturbing, the jury was still out.

Cherise had been as good as her word, waiting for them to dock from the ferry and taxing them to the bar where the jet waited for them. They had waved a happy goodbye after awkwardly stuffing their shopping (the pieces they hadn’t arranged to have delivered) and overnight bags into the back and taken off for home.

“I hope mum doesn’t make dinner awkward,” Selene sighed, knowing that with her family anything was possible. “I know she’s going to be a bit disappointed that I didn’t want to spend the actual day with her.”

“Then let her, you can always blame it on me.”

“My hero,” she smiled, lifting his hand to her lips to kiss it. “What would I do without you?”

“Marry Scott?” he joked, ducking out of the way of the smack she aimed at his shoulder. 

“I think Cat would have something to say about that,” she huffed. “Besides, you know you’re the only man for me.”

“I know, but it’s nice to be reminded now and then.”

She was still giggling, feeling relaxed and happily clinging to his arm, as the lift from the hangars completed its ascent, the doors opening to spill them out into the hall just beyond the lounge.

“Why do I hear music?” Selene asked suspiciously.

“I have no idea,” John admitted as they rounded the corner into the lounge.

Selene stopped dead in the doorway, as did John, unable to believe what they were seeing with their own two eyes.

“Am I that old now that I need glasses,” she whispered, “or am I actually seeing this?”

“Unfortunately it’s very real,” he whispered back, wrapping his arm around her protectively.

The lounge lights were flickering to the beat of the music, someone had laid out food on the coffee table, including a plate of mini sausages that Armstrong was steadily working his way through and someone had opened the concealed drinks cabinet.

It wasn’t the fact that there was quite clearly a party in full swing, a party that she had said on no uncertain terms wasn’t to happen, it wasn’t the fact that the entire family , plus her mother, Adam, Cat, Penelope, Parker, Bandon, Conrad and Moffie were all there.

No, it was the fact that each and every one of them was sporting a wig in various shades and stripes of purple and black. Wigs they had apparently teamed with half the contents of her wardrobe and every band T-shirt Jeff had ever collected.

“What the ever loving fu-”

The music quietened as the party animals realised they were no longer alone. They looked at John and Selene rather guiltily, not saying a word.

Scott, who had somehow squeezed his chest back into her favourite corset, was tossed under the bus and shoved forward to greet her.

“I’m going to kill you,” she hissed, trying to back away as he advanced on her, arms open in anticipation of a hug.

The world's most annoying best friend simply grinned at her, flashing those dimples that he knew she could never resist.

She tried to duck behind John but Scott was too quick for her, herding her directly into the path of the oncoming Virgil.

She was swept up into a bone crushing bear hug, vanishing under the tide of Tracys that descended to join in.

-x-

“Admit it, it wasn’t that bad,” John said, catching up with her beside the pool and handing her another can of her favourite cherry coke.

“I didn’t want a party,” she argued.

“But…”

“But I guess it wasn’t that bad,” she admitted, moving over on the padded bench seat to make room for him to sit next to her.

“They only did it because they love you.”

“I know, but they are all idiots.”

“I know, but it was a special birthday and they wanted to celebrate with you.”

“I know,” she said, leaning against his side with a contented sigh. 

"I've got a present for you," he announced, jiggling his shoulder to get her to move and shifting so he could dig into his hoodie pocket. 

"Really? Why?" 

"Because it's your birthday."

 "You really didn't have to, New Orleans was more than enough."

"The trip was supposed to have been for our anniversary, I just moved it forward," he reminded her. "Besides, I'd be a pretty lousy husband if I didn't get you something special to mark the occasion."

He offered her a bright green velvet pouch which looked to contain something rectangular and hard. 

"Open it," he instructed. 

"OK." She did as he bid, noticing that he was watching her very closely. Did he think she wouldn't like it? 

She loosened the draw strings and tipped the pouch up, catching the bundle of cards that slid out. 

"Tarot cards? What are they…" she paused, turning them over, her eyes widening as she realised exactly what they depicted. 

"Oh my gods," she gasped then burst out laughing. "These are amazing!" 

She flicked through them quickly, laughing even more at some of the pictures, each matching perfectly with the subject. 

"Where the hell did you find Muppets Tarot cards?" Kermit was the Emperor, Miss Piggy his Empress, Fozzy the Fool, Sam the Eagle as Justice, Animal as the Devil and most perfect of all, Statler and Waldorf as Judgement. 

"Tanzi put me in touch with someone who makes one of a kind sets to order," he replied, breathing a little easier now that he saw she liked them. 

"They're perfect, absolutely perfect. I love them so much."

"Good," he smiled, slipping his arm back around her waist and pulling her in closer. "I wasn't sure if it was something you would like or I should actually buy for you and didn't want to do the wrong thing. But Tanzi said that tarot cards are often gifted to people so it was OK." 

"Why would you think I wouldn't like them?" she asked softly. 

"I know how important your tools are to you and how Nathaniel never respected them. I guess I wanted to show you that I care too, that I'll always respect you and your beliefs."

"You are the best husband in the world," she assured him, pulling him closer for a kiss. "I love that you did this and I love that you know me so well that you could commission the most perfect set of cards just for me. Thank you, I love them."

"You're very welcome. I'm glad you like them."

"You always surprise me, just when I think you couldn't be any more amazing you pull something like this out of the bag, literally," she laughed, holding up the green pouch. 

"So, does this mean that you enjoyed turning thirty?" 

“I guess, as birthdays go, it wasn’t too awful.”

“Not too awful?” he mock gasped, clutching his heart. 

“Not awful,” she repeated, tipping her head back for another kiss. “Did you know they were planning all that?”

“Not all of it,” he admitted, “I suspected that they might not stick to a quiet meal but the rest was as much of a surprise to me as it was you.”

She let out an elegant snort in response, clearly not convinced.

“Honestly it was,” he promised, making the rescue scout sign. "Scouts honour."

“OK, I believe you, even though you weren't the scout, Scott was.”

“Thank you,” he grinned, draping his arm around her shoulders, his head tipped back to look up at the night sky above their heads. “All over for another year, how do you feel?”

“Better than I did yesterday morning,” she answered.

“Good, then my work here is done.”

She nodded, resting her head against his shoulder, just enjoying the peace of the late night,

“You’re quiet,” he said softly a few minutes later. “Everything alright?”

“Yep,” she promised. "I'm just thinking.”

“Care to share what you’re thinking so hard about?”

“Yep,” she repeated, grinning evilly. “I was thinking that mine isn't the only special birthday this year.”

Realisation dawned on him, a feeling of dread skittering up his spine.

“No, absolutely not.”

“But you said it yourself, you only turn thirty once.”

“No.”

“You forced me to celebrate, so it’s your turn next.”

“No, listen to me very carefully. I, as your husband, forbid it.”

“I’m thinking of a nice, relaxing trip somewhere quiet. I’ve heard that Finland does an amazing range of glass igloos to stay in to watch the sky, it's supposed to be beautiful that time of year.”

That didn't sound too bad, he had to admit. 

“OK, that wouldn’t be too terrible,” he agreed, breathing a sigh of relief. “For a second I thought you were going to say you were planning a party.”

“Would I do that?” she asked innocently, sliding out of his arms and off the bench. "I'm just going to show these to Mum, she'll have a fit."

“No, you aren't. Get back here. I forbid you to even think about planning a party."

"I'm not planning anything," she said, deftly avoiding his attempts to catch her and pull her back down. 

"Promise me you won't plan a party," he pleaded. 

"I promise," she vowed, dancing around the side of the pool towards the kitchen. 

John's eyes narrowed, she looked entirely too suspicious…

“I’m going to leave that to Scott.”

She dropped her bombshell, turned tail and ran like her life depended on it. 

[gyllenhaalstories]

KINKMAS DAY 2 & 11: BLOW JOB AND PRAISE KINK WITH (frat!)TOM HOLLAND.

request:  Shoot. I didn't see your Kinkmas prompt in time for BJ day. But maybe  you could do this for No. 11? Frat Boy Tom seduces nerdy y/n at a  Christmas party and he says she "gets" to suck him off, but first, she  has to praise him, touching all his muscles and kissing his cock through  his boxer briefs. He continues to demand praise as she sucks him off :)  

warnings: alcohol/drinking, praising kink, hand job, blow job, curse words (mentions of christmas, but nothing religious!)

word count: 1075

gif credits: lady-birds

thank you so much for this request! i’ve never written frat!anybody before (and i accidentally fell into a 2010 kesha rabbit hole for inspiration whoopsie), so i hope this is doing the concept justice! <3

You leaned against the door frame of the kitchen, holding a red solo cup filled with orange juice and stared at the scene. The party started half an hour ago, maybe even less, but everyone was already drunk beyond belief. The cool kids from the business management faculty offered rounds and rounds of shots in between boring games of beer pong. The sports scholarship dudes were screaming and chanting. Other groups of friends just chilled on a couch or invented new cocktails on the kitchen island behind you. And your friend who dragged you there? Nowhere to be found.

You had never attended a party of this size before, so you had expectations. You heard people talk about it in the hallways, ‘the biggest event of the semester’, ‘best time to let go of the stress before the finals’, ‘all the hotties from the fraternity are gonna be there’, ‘might have a karaoke machine for Christmas songs’. The last rumour convinced you to give in your friend’s begging.

There you were: no karaoke machine in sight, only poorly arranged Christmas decorations made the evening festive. That and the scent of cinnamon pine cones. You were determined to find where it came from, it would change from the smell of cheap beer. So you left your corner and decided to explore the fraternity, promising yourself to not open any doors. You did not want to discover what happened behind them. Eventually, you climbed up the squeaky stairs and found a pretty bowl on which the pine cones were set. You found a nutcracker and some other small decorations. Someone in this fraternity cared.

“Had my eyes on you all semester.”

You jumped at the sound of the mysterious voice, dropping a glass decoration on the floor. You looked up to lock eyes with this familiar face. The wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, the cocky grin on his lips, the messy eyebrow. Stranger from the second row in your introduction to adult psychology class. It was open for all, but he was the only student that did not come from your cohort. So, obviously he caught all the attention. He was handstome too, that probably helped his case.

“I’m Tom,” he introduced himself, hands on his hips. “What’s your name, pretty girl?”

So stranger from second row had a name. And stranger from second row just confessed, or lied, about having an interest in you. You promised yourself another thing: to never attend fraternity parties ever again, weird shit happened there. You introduced yourself, darting your eyes everywhere, looking for a way to escape.

“You don’t come here often.”

“That’s very perceptive of you.” You mocked.

His jaw clenched at your words. “You wanna play it all tough and rough, huh?” He asked. It was not a question, though, it was a dare.

“I know you’ve been crushing on me all this time. Caught you staring whenever I walked into the class room.”

You wanted to comment you only stared at him because he wore golf polos all day long. Apparently, he was the most promising golfer the college ever had. You did not even know it was a title.

“I caught ya pretty mouth drooling once,” the flashbacks of that time he bent down to grab your pen that rolled away, his muscular back and ass in full action before your eyes. “You can pretend to be innocent, but I know what you really want.”

You swallowed thickly. “What is it that I want, Tom?”

He chuckled. “You gonna have to earn it for me to tell you.”

In other circumstances, you would have not given in that easily. But what was wrong? He was good looking, the interest was mutual, and he smelled of watermelon gum rather than beer and other crazy beverages. On top of that, you were bored. “I’m sorry I kept staring at you,” you started, your voice small and hesitant. “You’re just very sexy.”

He squinted, his arms clenched. “Keep going.”

“You always make the other guys in class shut up. Your commentaries are smart, that’s good, but they know they’ll never look as good as you.” He nodded, encouraging you. You could judge how narcissistic this interaction was, but you looked down at his crotch and noticed the tent rising in his pants. You were good at more things than getting straight a’s on your essays, apparently.

As your hands finally touched him, he got goosebumps. He opened the door behind you, which happened to be his room, and pushed you in. He took his shirt off, letting your hands explore his toned body. For a golfer, he certainly trained like a fitness model on Instagram.

Your finger tips tickled his abs as you moved lower.

“Been dreamin’ of touching me, yeah? Had wet dreams about me fucking you?”

You nodded with excitement, eyes wide and thighs clenching together. “Please, Tom, I need your cock so bad.”

“Prove it.”

You dropped to your knees and palmed at his buldge. He let you take his pants down, but not his boxers yet. “You’re so big Tom, bigger than I’ve dreamed of.” He moaned at your words, so you kept going. You told him about how much you’ve wanted to touch him that one time his seat was taken so he sat next to you. Your thigh brushed against his, your skin was on fire. You told him that you wished he had taken you right there and then. You told him you had come to the party hoping to finally talk to him.

All the attention and praise must have worked, because he let you slide down his underwears. His cock spring free, finally released from the fabric. The kisses you trailed on his shaft felt amazing, much more than the ones you pressed against his boxers.

“Please, Tom, please let me suck your cock.” Your tongue followed the lines of his veins before lapping at his swollen and wet tip. The fact that it all started because of some pine cones amused you.

He wanted to keep you hanging, to ear more sweet words coming out of that beautiful mouth of yours. He could not resist any longer and held himself at the base. “Good girls always get what they deserve.”

At that very moment when he hit the back of your throat, you suddenly promised yourself to never not attend those fraternity parties again.

[artbookdap]

Gay Pride and then some! Featured images are from 'Matthew Leifheit: To Die Alive,' new release and Staff Pick for Pride Month 2022. ⁠ ⁠ Featuring 77 color photographs and a faux leather cover, 'To Die Alive' portrays Fire Island’s world of desire and its layers of history: the Ice Palace bar’s infamous underwear party; the men-only Belvedere Guesthouse; clandestine encounters in the Meat Rack; and landscapes in all seasons of the island’s delicate maritime forest. The wide-ranging subjects of Matthew Leifheit’s portraits reflect the intergenerational community who come to the island for refuge or employment, ranging from weekend visitors to sugar daddies to bartenders and sex workers. Tinged with sadness, the book's climax mixes feelings of pleasure with desperation and loss. As homosexuality gains mainstream acceptance, many queer Americans no longer need to go to geographic extremes like Fire Island, Provincetown, Palm Springs or Key West to express themselves. But what is the cost of assimilation? 'To Die Alive' is both romantic and grotesque, challenging the sun-bleached history of homoerotic representation on this fragile island, which itself is under constant threat of erosion by the sea.⁠ ⁠ Published by @damiani_books ⁠ ⁠ Edited by @elisabethbiondi ⁠ ⁠ Text by @jeremyoharris & @jack_parlett⁠ ⁠ Read more about the book via linkinbio.⁠ ⁠ #MatthewLeifheit #ToDieAlive #fireisland @mattelife #pride #gaypride #pridemonth #lgbtq #lgbtq+ https://www.instagram.com/p/CeY0rDwundo/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[asteriismos]

Tear You Apart -- Bill Denbrough

Authors Note : wooo this was a whirlwind to write. self quarantine is slowly starting to eat me alive, but I hope everyone is doing good! stay healthy and wash hands! also, if anyone wants to be on the tagging list, just shoot me a message or an ask! I also changed around the request slightly but it’s pretty much the same thing. Requests are still open.

Warning(s) : smut ( obviously ), seventeen! bill denbrough, choking, this is kinda just filth but what’s new, im going to hell

Request : 

Loved your last bill smut you posted! Can you do one where the losers all have a sleepover and Bill has to share an air mattress with the reader and they end up having really hot sex while trying not to wake up the losers yet fail bc the reader is loud asf and maybe the reader has a choking kink and tells him while they’re making out to choke her harder. and the next day they have marks all over? (Sorry my thirst for Bill is unreal rn 😂). Ok so I also wanted to add to my bill x reader smut where he tries to push the reader to her limit and see how many times she can cum and it gets to the point where she’s screaming and crying at the same time bc oof 🥵 that’s hot (again I apologize for my horny ass I just wanted to add a little to my request)

When Richie Tozier gave the suggestion that the friend group should have a sleepover over Labor Day weekend, you were one of the first to scream yes. It was the beginnings of your senior year and you weren't going to waste a second of it, you wanted to spend every second you could with your friends and boyfriend, Bill.

The only problem was that it took a while to find the house you all should sleepover at. Though Richie had the idea, he said that his parents were planning something Saturday night, which meant a no from his end. Eddie’s mother wouldn't allow anyone over because of germs, and Bev’s aunt was not about to have eight teenagers in their apartment. 

Luckily, Bill’s parents were out of town for the weekend because of the holiday, so you all finally could take the plan for action.

The rest of the day was dedicated to getting supplies for said sleepover. You and Bill went to the dollar store on the corner for snacks, Mike and Stan went to get as many blankets as they could, Eddie and Richie got movies, and Ben and Beverly set up the spare air mattresses in the large living room.

Once all of you got back, the party finally began.

“We have to watch Jurassic Park. It just came out on to VHS tapes,” Richie begged to the group. “And it’s so good, you gotta admit.”

“Richie, no, come -” Eddie’s rejection sentence got cut off by Richie already putting in the tape. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer, obviously. “Fine, whatever.”

All of you laughed at the two bickering and settled in for the movie. You were sharing an air mattress with Bill, the giant bowl of popcorn sharing both of your laps. You two were all snuggled and cozy under two blankets. As the movie got started, you felt his left hand land on your thigh. It wasn’t unlike him to put his hand there, considering you two weren’t prudes to types of PDA, but for some reason it felt different this time. It felt like there was a motive behind it. 

You looked at your boyfriend, and even in the dim lighting of his living room you could see a smirk on his face. 

Well, you thought to yourself, two can play at this game.

Your own hand came down under the covers and laid on his thigh, giving it a good squeeze. Bill tensed up under your touch, breathing in a very big amount of air as he kept his eyes on the movie. He wasn’t going to give up without a fight, that was sure.

A good ten minutes passed with no other touches from Bill, maybe he had stopped for the night in fear that your friends would start to notice the strange behavior between the two of you. You two weren’t all that good at being subtle, to be honest.

However, your previous thoughts seemed to be wiped away when you felt his hand go to your waistband of your sweatpants. Your legs tensed up for a moment and your stomach churned, looking around at your friends to see if they noticed. They hadn't, all of them were focused on the movie, since it was getting to the good part. That was a good thing, considering if any of them found out about this ( particularly Richie ) you two would not hear the end of it. 

His hand slipped under the waistband and stilled for a moment, almost as if he was asking permission. You grabbed it and squeezed it, signaling that you were okay with it. And with that, he proceeded up go under your underwear lining. You breathed in sharply, causing Ben to look your way.

“Popcorn kernel,” you whispered his way. He nodded and turned his attention to the movie once again. From the corner of your eye you could see Bill laugh a little bit. Glad to see he was enjoying this. You tried to keep your face from reacting when his middle finger entered you. 

But it felt really fucking good.

He stayed with one finger for a while, pushing in and out slowly, with rhythm. You turned to look at him and awkwardly held up a peace sign, signaling that you wanted another finger. Bill happily obliged, slipping another finger into you. That was enough to start changing the pace of your breathing, your focus at the bowl of popcorn on your legs. The movie was playing in the background but you couldn’t even think about it. Instead, you were thinking about the earliest you could fuck the shit out of Bill.

Which was now. You couldn’t take it anymore. You had to feel him inside of you, all of him. The want and desire was enough for you to quickly grab his hand, stand up and say, “We’re going to go make some more popcorn.” The Losers nodded, their eyes still fixated on the film. You pulled Bill by the hand into his family’s kitchen, not wasting a second of the limited time you two had before one of them would get suspicious.

His lips caught yours first, his body pushing you up to the top of the island counter. You obliged, scooting so that your butt was seated on the edge of the island, your legs wrapping around his torso. There wasn't an open space between you two as you kissed, the air in the room got hotter and hotter. It was the thrill of you two doing this in his kitchen, but also the thrill that someone would come in and witness the very unholy thing that was going down.

Bill pulled away from your lips, his kisses instead going on your cheek and along your jaw. They got up to your ear and he whispered, “I want to see how many times you can cum.” It sent shivers down your spine. You two probably only had about ten minutes or so before someone got suspicious and would investigate. The thought made a pool begin in your panties.

His hand went back to where it had previously been prior to the kitchen, two fingers reentering you. You moaned into his shoulder, the soft cotton proving to be quite helpful in muffling your moans. But that didn’t seem to be enough for Bill, he was not looking to be caught early. So his hand came up to your throat, squeezing a little bit. Instead of pain, you felt pleasure. Bill had complete control over you and you loved every second of it.

The first orgasm came soon after that, your moans being stifled by his hand and his shirt. You thought that he would stop so he could have some action of his own, but he didn't. Instead his fingers kept going in and out at an even faster rate. It felt good to ride out your high, but now you were so sensitive to his touch.

“Bill, I’m still pretty sensitive,” you choked out against his shoulder. He just nodded his head and kept going. The dominance he was showing was unlike everything before, and you hated to admit that it was turning you on so much.

His lips attached themselves to your neck, his teeth almost expertly biting in just the right spots to get you closer and closer. You counted all the spots that he reached, but lost count in your second orgasm after seven. You’d have to do a lot of damage control with makeup the next day.

Both of Bill’s hands left your body, and for a moment you thought that he was leaving. You opened your eyes and reached out to him, putting your hands on his shoulders. He wasn’t leaving, he was just taking off his belt and unzipping his pants, quickly getting himself out of his boxers.

It didn’t take long for him to enter you, his pace slow as you adjusted to his length. Despite your past two orgasms, you still felt yourself moaning in pleasure from his actions. His hand went back to your neck, repeating the same squeezing motion every time he would thrust into you. You looked past his shoulder at the clock on the wall, seeing that about eight minutes had passed. You were praying that your friends didn’t find you in this position. 

“Bill,” you breathed out quietly, feeling the same fire in your stomach grow with each thrust. “I think I’m going to-” Your words were cut off by your third orgasm, hitting you like a tidal wave. He kept thrusting into you faster and faster, then finally reached his own peak, his thrusts becoming sloppier as you both rode it down. 

He kissed your forehead, pulling out of you and getting a rag to clean up the mess you two had made. Once you two were moderately clean enough, he redressed and helped you off of the kitchen counter. You semi felt bad, considering you have helped Mrs. Denbrough prepare dinner on this counter many times before and done homework with Bill here too. 

“I would just try not to think about it too much,” Bill said, obviously thinking the same thing that you were. Both of you laughed and hugged, your breathing coming to a safe pace again. 

When you two walked back into the living room, the movie was showing it’s credits. Both of you tried to seem as normal as possible, but it was inevitable that someone would ask something.

“You two said you were going to get popcorn, where is it?” Eddie asked, his eyebrow raising. 

“Yeah, we also didn’t hear the microwave on in there,” Richie added, a smirk plastering his face.

A blush creeped onto Bill’s cheeks and soon your own, realizing that you hadn’t been that quiet and discreet as you two thought. 

[thekidultlife]

seungcheol + thorough, smut

You’re not someone who’s going through her first time of sex. You’ve had plenty of it before you met Seungcheol, and you’ve enjoyed it most of the time. Shin Youngjae sometimes made sure that you got your share of pleasure. But everything with Youngjae had always been rushed, hard, and very painful at times, much like the way he suddenly just packed up his things and left you. Word has it that he was off to an island with a woman younger-looking than you were.

You had remained loverless after Youngjae. That is, until you met Seungcheol, someone you met casually during a common friend’s party. You became friends and probably something more; you could not identify what it was.

But something was different tonight, you could feel, in the warmth of the fire while raindrops pattered outside your loft, as your legs are wrapped around Seungcheol’s waist; despite the fact that you feel Seungcheol’s hard, bulging erection just between your legs, rubbing on your thin underwear, you knew from the way he’s kissing you now that he’s miles away from who Youngjae was.

As the shadows had darkened outside, you and Seungcheol had been having a few drinks. Some wine, a little bit of beer, and cards. Everything looked easy. But something changed the mood and you found yourself twining your hands in his hair, locked in a slow, passionate kiss.

This is different, your mind whispers as you sigh, melting inside; Seungcheol’s lips are on yours and they are tender, taking all their time in the world. His hands hold your face like you might break if he touched you any harder. You open your mouth to him, and he sighs against you, his tongue sliding in. You like the feel of his tongue rubbing on yours; there is something both carnal and intimate about it; his pace is slow, as if he is relishing every second inside your mouth. You taste the glass of rose wine you shared with him earlier, and beer and something stronger—you felt yourself drowning as you let him take your mouth. Your hands leave his neck and find their way inside his shirt, seeking more warmth there.

“I like you,” he whispers breathlessly, between kisses.

“I like you, too,” you admitted, and he smiles briefly; then he takes your lips even more urgently, and this time you felt a rush of animalistic pleasure as his tongue fills your mouth, tangling with yours and you feel your body heat up a hundred degrees more. You suck on his tongue playfully, and you feel him tighten all over at the sudden provocation. You hear his deep chuckle and you smile in his kisses.

At this point, Youngjae would’ve just rammed you against the wall and taken you hard. But Seungcheol doesn’t seem to do that thing. “You like to tease, don’t you?” you pout mockingly while your hands are busy unbuttoning his shirt. He leans back for a second as you rub yourself against him, but he takes your mouth again so voraciously that you regret your words immediately. He unbuttons your shirt halfway as you rub, rub and rub, and as he rakes his teeth on your exposed skin, his tongue traces a hot, wet line down between your breasts. You arch against him, wanting his mouth all over you.

“Patience, baby,” he murmurs as one of his hands cup your wet cunt. “We’ve barely even started.”

You beg him to touch you more, and he does. He stops kissing you. You feel his fingers circling around your wetness. You whimper as Seungcheol looks at you so intensely, his eyes, dark, hazy orbs, as he takes up a finger from down below, soaked with your juices, and sucks on it loudly. Then he gently pushes you on the blankets. Your hair fans out, your shirt undone halfway, exposing one breast, which Seungcheol’s hand tenderly fondles. He strokes a nipple and you writhe.

“Why are you going so slow?” you moaned. “Just fuck me now, Seungcheol. Just do it…please.” You tremble as you felt his other hand unbuttoning your shirt and dragging your panties down. Then he plants himself between your legs, his eyes hungry but oh-so-patient, his smile even more infuriating.

“Open your legs,” he whispers in your ear before playfully biting your earlobe, “wide. Do you know how much you are torturing me right now, Y/N?”

With one hand, he rips off your shirt. Suddenly your breasts are hanging free, ripe , and with puckering nipples begging Seungcheol to make notice of them. And Seungcheol does. He bends down, cups one breasts and squeezes, then takes one highly aroused nipple onto his mouth.

“Tonight is all about you,” he whispered softly as your moans fill his hears. Then he bends down between your legs, pauses to make sure you are looking at him, and then licks your cunt, from bottom to top, in one slow go. You claw at the covers. He starts lapping up your juices, biting at your entrance, and—without any qualms about noises—sinks his tongue inside you. His one hand plants your leg firmly in place as he uses his other hand to rub your clit. The result is you, lolling your head back, mouth open and groaning loudly. Let the neighbors hear. His tongue aroused you so badly you felt your insides tremble. And his fingers—ah, they make you want to scream.

“You…” Licks. “Taste…” Licks again, bottom to top. “…Good.” He begins licking you like that, his eyes on you, slow and then fast, then bites at you, before sucking you noisily again, watching you moan and moan.

But when he feels you pulsating, he stops, strips off his boxers. He hovers on top of you, pressing his erection to your entrance.

“Now we start,” he says in a silky, hazy tone, his tongue licking your lips. You tasted yourself on him and you whimper again. “Now we fuck.”

He slams into you fully. One hand graze at your breasts down to your clit, rubbing, as you inhale sharply.

“Yes,” you pant, “yes!”

His rhythm sped up, always deep, never allowing for any room. So thorough. His hands are kneading your flesh as he slams and slams into you, all your sensitive spots rammed and rammed into. You are shuddering, shaking, twisting and he silences your cries with his mouth, fucking your mouth the way he fucks your cunt. You almost choke as his tongue drives deep into you, while one of his hands are grasping at your breast. His rhythm goes faster, and faster, and faster, and as you match his thrusts with your own, you felt your walls tighten around him, tighter, tighter, and tighter until you cry out and explode all around him and he, too, sprays his cum inside your swollen cunt. He shudders and slumps onto your breasts.

You both pant, kissing, kissing, and kissing. The rain had stopped. Your breaths mingled as you continued devouring each other. You roughly push him down and stroke his limp erection, wanting him to be aroused again.

“My turn,” you say hoarsely as you take him into your mouth.

You fuck with Seungcheol until you couldn’t anymore. And as you felt sleep come to you, you thought bitterness about Youngjae and how he wouldn’t have been able to top this one. The bitterness of how your relationship had ended with him now had a touch of something sweet and raw. And as Seungcheol kisses your neck softly to say good night and drapes an arm around you, you snuggle into him, thinking, that, yes, this man beside you would be…very, very different. And you would do everything you could to make him last for a long time...with you.

- Leanne