#rumour has it he fucks like he’s a sex god but no one can truly verify it

[syrma-sensei]

Somewhere In Your Heart, Ch.4: Unmasked.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Fem!reader.

Rating: Explicit.

Warnings: Herogasm (need I elaborate more?), implied smut, angst, emotional rollercoaster...

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Soldier boy lives through the ennui of his peak, but everything is about to change when he has a shift in his heart.

Herogasm.

A place where supes exert their whims and desires without being pried on. The rumours you heard were rife with obscenity and outrageousness. However, what you're beholding now makes you think that whatever you heard about the affair was ten times more downwashed than the veritable things occuring before you right now.

Everything is raw, pure, and carnal.

They're just like humans. Like you.

“It’s my thing.” Soldier boasts in the middle of the display debauchery.

He's just like humans, of flesh and needs; like you.

You muster up a salacious grin, sliding the laces of your dress down in order to strip off. Soldier Boy rushes and holds your hands to your arms to stop you.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing, doll?” He snarls.

Your grin doesn't waver, your brow quirks up playfully, “Getting naked? I'm feeling overdressed here.”

He lets another guttural sound. “Not in here.” His voice is commanding and you shiver.

He pulls you through the scenes of sex and pleasure. You watch supes having their way with other supes and normal people. You wonder if the normal workers consented to be here. You see men with women, men with men, women with women. No facades, no masks. You feel the thrill roil your belly at the sounds of naked flesh slamming against naked flesh. You fathom a strange kind of sincerity in this place, where one can be and do whatever they want.

“See, I established this…” He waves a hand around, “Back in 52, with Liberty.”

You raise a brow at the new info.

“Why?” You ask.

His brows furrow, “Why I built this? Because we fucking deserve it. We're gods among men, and we have gods’ tendencies.”

“But I see normal people here,” You chuckle, “I thought we humans were way below you and your kind.”

Soldier Boy stops in his tracks. Turning on his heels, his hand grabs your jaws, making you moan at the force. He pulls you in to whisper in your ear, “We can do whatever we want, fuck whoever we want. In time, you'll understand how privileged you are to be mine.”

“Words, words…” You snatch your head out of his grasp in defiance, “I only hear words and see no actio—!”

He shuts you up with his crushing lips. You moan at the rapturous strength in his hands as he pulls into his hold. You can feel the warm and firm muscles underneath his gear. His lips are full and ravenous against yours, for a moment, you felt as if he's going to swallow you whole. The way his lips covet yours ripples through your body down to your core; you moan again.

He breaks the kiss for a second, gazing down at you with half-lidded eyes, purring, “Do you want to be truly mine?”

You tear up as emotions burn both in your heart and eyes. The world's strongest superhero is asking you to be his. You ogle him through your tears. No man ever required your permission before. The leash Jack has on you makes you an available mount for anyone who's ready to pay Jack enough to let them have you.

Soldier Boy — Ben, didn't do anything of the sort even though he made sure whatever the thing had been going between the two of you was worth it. Yes. You want to be his, even if only for the night. You want to be claimed by this man, you want to feel it for once, that you have control over your life and do something of your choice.

“Yes.” You utter, your lips are still close to his. “Make me yours, please.”

Soldier Boy grins. That giddy and boyish grin is growing on you. The way his eyes light up at your acceptance.

He takes you to private chambers, and makes you his.

Ben cards a hand through your hair as your head lays on his chest. His eyes are gazing up to the ceiling.

He's just had one of the best nights of his life. The satisfying sensation of mirth is piercing into his bone. He finally had you, and his mind is at peace, for now.

However, he can't say the same thing about his heart which is bumping with nourishment under your ear. He hasn't felt this in god knows for how long. He feels happy. Truly happy. And it's not just the sex.

Fuck. It casts upon him that he doesn't want this to end after tonight. He realises he wants more of you, more of this. Whatever this is… he craves for more, more of you. More of this non-ephemeral happiness. He knows it. He can feel it in his bones that the cat and mouse game between you played out into something more. He's feeling sweet tingles in his body like a fucking teen boy. Be that as it may, he's fond of it.

He sighs softly, hand still buried in your hair.

Could it be?

Could it be you? The one with whom he wants to make his childish dream come true?

The one he'd make a family with?

He doesn't know.

The only thing he's certain of at the moment is that he doesn't want what he has with you to end, contrary to what he initially believed.

He feels you shift under his arm. You crane your face up to meet his. God, you're fucking pretty. Pretty can't even describe the happy glow you're in now. Pride sprouts in his chest that he made you happy. His little ol’ heart beats fast at the fact. His fancy is so tickled.

“Are you compensated, doll face?” He asks playfully.

Your eyes furrow, confused for a moment, then a blush invades your cheeks.

The sound of his deep chuckle makes your heart swell, it's refreshing. “Oh, I am. Plenty.” You giggle.

“Good, because you're gonna have to get used to my generosity.”

You blink several times at the sudden revelation that you sit up.

He mimics you as he sits up, noticing the silent panic in your eyes, “What is it?”

“I can't be yours alone.” You whisper. “Jack won't let that happen…”

He frowns, the mere mention of his name grinds on his gears. He grumbles, “That fuckhead can suck on my dick for all I care.”

You sigh, “Ben… you don't understand, he owns me—”

His lips seal yours. “Shh, I'm a jealous man, I warn you. I won't have my girl talking about another man owning her.”

A strange yet delightful shiver courses through your body. Did he just call me his girl?

“Then do something.” You tear up, emotions burning your eyes. “I don't want him. I want you. Please.”

He flinches when you hug him, crying into his chest. Fuck, he isn't good with sentimental shit. Sentiments are a women's department, not a seasoned soldier's like himself. Fuck! He should do something, but his body is alerted to do anything and you crying into his chest isn't making it better.

“Shh…” His arms reluctantly hold you back, a hand patting your back softly.

“Ben…” His heartstrings tug painfully at the way you say his name, the way you implore him. “Please don't let him take me back.”

His chin rests on your head, his hand still patting your back. “I won't. You're mine now.”

“Don’t let me go, please.”

Fuck this, he isn't good at comforting anyone, because he never did it to anyone neither was it done to him. Somewhere weird burns his eyes as he remembers his loveless childhood. It's as if the sound of your sobbing triggers it.

“I won't let anyone take you from me. You have my word for that.”

Soldier Boy is many things, but a promise breaker isn't one of them.

You don't realise that you dozed off on Ben's chest until you wake up after hours. Ben's side is empty. You groan as you rub your eyes. You hear ecstatic moans woven into music, it's still permeating through the door; the party doesn't stop.

You shift in your spot. Your core aches from sweet soreness.

You can't believe you just slept with the hero of all heroes, in Herogasm no less. Weeks of tantalising mutual pinning are finally put the button on.

Instead of being disappointed, it's glee that's undulating in your skin. When Ben and you started this game, you believed it would be a fleeting fling. But now, you don't want what it resulted to end. You want this to proceed with what it has to unearth in the future.

You aren't naïve, you aren't unaware of your circumstances. But your stupid heart, that you thought dead, is beating with such vehemence you don't recognise. With something alien to you…. could it be love?

You shake your head at the absurdity of which. But you can't help the smile that pulls on your lips as you remember Ben's promise. You're his now.

Jack taught you to always distinguish between business and pleasure. but here you are, in a mess of business and pleasure yet in neither. You're in a mess of what you forgot long ago. Life.

Ben has brought life back to your miserable existence, and whether you like it or not, your heart is beating for that man even if his feelings don't requite yours. At least he shows some kind of interest, a benign one.

As the sounds of passion keep pouring through the walls, you wonder if Ben joined in one of the activities you saw when he toured you around. Men like Ben tend to be heartbreakers, mean, and uncouth. And he's taken what he wants from you. You push the panicked qualms and doubts about whether he wants anything to do with you or not to the back of your mind. He promised. You remind yourself.

Trying to argue the muscle that is still palpating with vigour in your chest, Jealousy burns your chest at the thought of Ben being with another woman… or women.

Yes, you harbour something for Ben. Lust, love, adoration… you aren't sure, but it doesn't matter, nevertheless. You know he can't be yours the way you can be his. You try to reason with yourself. But alas. You can't accept it, you want him all to yourself just the way he wants you all to himself.

The thought of him with another drives you to sit up.

You find a nightgown hanging next to the bed. You're incredulous to wear it. Many people would have worn it, but you put it on, though.

You rush out of the room, and you're surrounded with naked people again. Back glued to the wall, you tiptoes into a corridor wherein a man and a woman are copulating.

You pass by them then you jolt when you hear a bellowing laugh, “And I tell ya, it was the best shot I had with my bitch of a sister in our entire lives.”

“Betcha.” You hear Ben say, “If it weren't for my order back then; they would've given me slip, because you and your sis decided to pussy out on the mission.”

You raise a brow. It dawns upon you that you never saw that side of Ben. The superhero side of him, if there's any. You're curious, so you encourage yourself to eavesdrop. You want to know more about him.

“You can't blame us, there were citizens in the building!” The other man grouses, “They’re on you, Ben.”

The latter snickers, “Those people were in the way, the mission was to croak the assholes and I did. More people could've been hurt if they'd ducked out.”

Your heart paces up as they talk. Why does this sound so familiar? A bile of bitterness lurches in your throat.

“Still… an entire building was on fire that day.”

“It’s been, what? 10 years? And you’re still bitter about it, kid?”

“Fuck no!” The man scoffs, “I just told you it was the best shot we had with Tessa! Plus, it's been only six years! Nope, can't forget the best day of my career.”

Your breath hyperventilates as the minutiae gets familiar and familiar with you, conjuring up flashes of the day that changed your life for good.

“Not bad for someone who always misses their fucking marks.” Soldier Boy's tone is tight.

Tessa… Tessa… Tessa. You rack your mind fumbling through the inkling of the name. Then it snaps. Tommy and Tessa, The TNT Twins. Two members of Payback. Soldier Boy, TNT Twins, a burning building, six years ago? Could it be the same incident that took your brother's life?

Six years ago, the shitty building you used to reside in was invaded by criminals chased by none other than Payback. You were out in a sleep over at one of your friends’ while your brother was at home sleeping. According to people who gave their account of the incident, the criminals set the building on fire to distract the heroes with rescuing the civilians from the flames rather than going after them. However, and simply put, Payback could catch up with them and annihilate the threat. One of the side casualties was your brother, and you in somehow.

With no close relatives to go to, you had to be dragged from orphanage to orphanage. Until you met Jack when you were sixteen at a bar, and made you what you are now.

You feel the urge to throw up. You were always aware that your brother was a victim to that incident. To those criminals. It didn't occur to you that his death sentence was uttered by Ben.

Tears swell up in your eyes, they exude out in two rivulets down your cheeks, you cover your mouth with your hands to prevent an audible gasp.

You swallow hard and try to pull yourself together. Turning on your heels, you put on your clothes, and head back home. Back to Jack.

🦅 Previous Chapter: Mirrors.

🦅 Next Chapter: Coming Soon.

🦅 Somewhere In Your Heart Masterlist

Taglist: @thebiggerbear, @zepskies, @deanbrainrotwritings, @deansbbyx, @deans-spinster-witch

@venus-haze, @kaleldobrev, @k-slla, @ketchupjasmin, @demodemo909

@mystic-mara, @jqtaro, @pepsicolacoochie, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @prurose

@leavli, @robertthehoover, @soldiergrimes, @vanessa-boo, @uddiifiigj...

[murdertoothpick]

kinktober day 18

cock worship | jesse x fem!reader

warnings: okay this is dirty, vaginal sex, a lot of dirty talk, unprotected sex, hint of possessiveness, hint of feelings, closet sex. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, i wrote this at 9am | w/c: 948 | full kinktober masterlist

Jesse knows he’s a good fuck. He knows that he’s skilled with his tongue, practiced with his fingers, and can bring on orgasm after orgasm like it’s nothing. He knows he’s packing too—not necessarily in comparison to his brothers—but he can tell by the way ladies flock to him at 79’s that he can give it to them better than any of their shabuir of boyfriends. It’s for that reason that Jesse doesn’t feel all that bad when he seeks you out. He needs you, but he’s also gonna make sure he hits the right notes to orchestrate your orgasm and give you what you didn’t know you needed. Naturally.

And Jesse is no stranger to these compliments. He gets them before he takes the person to bed, he gets them during, and once again when they offer to make the night more than just a one night stand. He’s flattered, but he turns them down every time. He stops entirely after he kisses you for the first time. Though technically, it was you that kissed him first, tearing off his bucket as soon as you saw him stepping off the ship that had left close to a week prior, wrapping your arms around him and celebrating the 501st’ newly acquired victory by sealing your lips to his. You knew how popular he was, you’ve heard the rumours, and even as he reciprocated the kiss as if you had given him air after years underwater, you don’t hope for anything more. You don’t ask to be exclusive, but you don’t know that that is exactly what Jesse wants to be by the way his string of one night stands comes to a harsh stop that day.

You don’t know how much of a hold you have over him, and truly, he doesn’t know as much either. That is, until he has you held up against the wall in some supply closet, your legs wrapped tightly around him, and you saying something that almost has his legs giving out under him.

‘Kark,’ you hiss between breathy moans, ‘I love your cock,’ you keen with every one of his thrusts into you. But Jesse pauses momentarily, resuming the rocking of his hips in a much slower pace, one that has you whining in desperation. ‘Jesse—‘

‘Say it again.’

You make eye contact with him this time, repeating your words and squeezing your legs tighter around him in emphasis. He continues the slow grind as he kisses you hotly—before breathing into your lips a ‘Tell me more’ and he’s quickening his pace.

Your mouth falls in a silent ‘O’ as his cock begins to fuck deep into you again, this time in quicker succession. The force of his hips push you up and down the wall. ‘So good’ you slur, chanting with a mix of ‘So deep’s in between. He manages to hear them over your combined moans and breaths, and the slapping of his skin against yours.

Your hands claw at his plastoid covered shoulders, no doubt leaving scratch marks in their wake—ones that Jesse will be more than happy to wear. ‘You’re so - fuck! - big!’ you cry, silently grateful for his strength as he keeps you upright. ‘So thick and long and - holy shit—’

Jesse all but ruts into you, hands gripping your thighs hard enough he’ll probably leave red prints. It only spurs you - and him - on.

‘Oh my god, Jesse,’ you moan. He grunts at the call of his name, and you continue your slurs of praise, mouth running shamelessly, ‘I’d - kriff - get on my knees and suck you off for - shit - hours! - if it meant I could feel you inside me like this for seconds.’

Jesse let’s out a strangled moan, huffing the sound away before he speaks, ‘You don’t know what that’s doing to me.’

You manage a laugh, but it’s cut short by another moan brought by his thrusts. ‘You don’t know,’ you correct him, toes curling behind his back as you’re so close, and if you play your cards right you can make this good for the both of you - not that it ever isn’t. ‘You always fuck me so good,’ you praise, ‘Better than anyone else.’

Jesse grins, clenching his teeth with his physical exertion. ‘You take lots of cock before me, pretty girl?’ he grits.

‘—None as good as yours!’ you cry out, ‘Only want yours, want it to fill me up, Jesse. I want it, wanna be full of your cum, please!’

He needs to ask, ‘Are you s—‘

‘—Safe!’ you yelp in confirmation, dropping your head in a cry, ‘Fuck I’m so close to cumming, can you feel it? I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum and milk your c—‘ You’re cut off immediately as your orgasm rolls over you, along with Jesse’s shout as forces himself as deep as he can go, hitting a spot inside you that you know only he can reach. He spills himself inside, canting and grinding into you to complete your highs.

Your head drops into his shoulder, a delirious smile tugging at your lips from satisfaction. ‘God I love your cock’ you mumble into his neck, dragging your tongue up his neck as if making a claim.

Jesse has to brace himself against the wall, breathing heavily without even considering letting go of you even as you cling to him like a koala does to a tree. Now, he's adamant that if you stay like this long enough he’ll get hard again, and then he can fuck you even better than before and tell you that he’s yours. Every part of him.

[jaskierswolf]

No Regrets

A noble!Jaskier A/B/O arranged marriage fic for @greyduckgreygoose as part of a server exchange. - AO3

Ship: Jaskier x Aiden

Rating: E

Length: 2.8k

CW: Smut, Alpha Aiden/Omega Jask, scent kink, fingering, oral sex, penetrative sex, knotting, mating bites

_

If there was one thing in life that Jaskier regretted, it was that he was a noble. Without the ties of his blood, being an omega wouldn’t be so bad. He could have chosen his own alpha, been happily mated if he wished, or stayed free and wild as he roamed the Continent to his heart’s desire. As a child he’d declared that he would be a travelling bard or a merchent, renouncing all claim to the stupid title that now bound his dear sister to the estate. He’d dreamed of his life as a barker to some witcher or other adventurer, strumming tunes on his lute and spreading his music all across the Continent.

A pipe dream.

Jaskier didn’t even regret being an omega. It was actually quite thrilling, the sex was easier with the slick he produced and the desperation his heats brought was really quite incomparable. There was nothing quite like getting fucked within an inch of his life and knotted by some strapping alpha, lost in orgasm after orgasm until he quite literally passed out.

He knew the real thief of his freedom was his blood, his nobility, his dear old parents caught in their archaic ways. Only, now he was to be married to some mysterious alpha that had saved his father’s life a few weeks ago and Jaskier was kicking up a fuss, purposely not looking his best for the wedding. His neck was littered with hickies from a rather lovely beta he’d fucked the night before, but when the alpha, his alpha, walked into the room, Jaskier regretted every decision he’d made that morning.

The bastard was handsome, unbelievably so, and he was wild. Jaskier had been expecting some stuck up noble alpha that only cared about the pups Jaskier could provide, but, oh, ho, ho, gods, this man was a work of art! Long dark hair was pulled back into a messy half updo, long waves falling down past his shoulders. He had tanned skin, covered in scars, from what Jaskier could see, a particularly nasty one striking along his left eye and cutting into his cheek, but gods, those eyes… startling gold like the sweetest honey. Most interesting were his clothes, pretty dark blue garments that Jaskier could have sworn were armoured, and a hood resting on his shoulders. He seemed to be unarmed but something in Jaskier’s gut told him that the man was still dangerous, and that thought had him pressing his thighs together as he felt another rush of slick escape him.

The alpha’s nostrils flared and those gorgeous molten eyes met his from across the room. Jaskier felt as though he had been hit by lightning as he basked in the heat of his alpha’s stare. From beside him, Jaskier heard his mother gasp, the bitter scent of her anger clouding the air, but it was far too late for mother dearest to back out now.

Jaskier was going to marry a witcher!

Maybe his plans of travelling the Continent hadn’t been so far fetched after all. Destiny had truly blessed him on this day, he would be free from the society he hated so much, travelling by this fine specimen’s side until death.

Oh, ho, ho!

He was thrilled.

The alpha didn’t seem too displeased either as he winked at Jaskier from across the room, his tongue flicking out to lick his lips. The man bowed deeply to Jaskier’s parents but there was something in his manner that made Jaskier laugh. There was nothing sincere in his greeting, and the Viscount of Lettenhove knew this, that much was clear from the sneer on his face, the nasty curl of his lips.

And oh didn’t that make Jaskier’s victory all the sweeter. He wondered what the alpha had done or said to convince his old man to give up his only son, and a precious omega to boot. Jaskier supposed a life debt was hard to argue against.

The witcher seemed like a bit of a cad, all flirty winks and mockery of nobility that made Jaskier swoon, his knees buckling a little underneath him under the heavy musk of the alpha’s scent. Slick soaked through his underclothes and he wriggled uncomfortably, his hands itching to slip beneath his breeches and tease at his cock, his hole, anything that could relieve him of the aching arousal in his gut. The alpha let out a wave of pheromones, calming Jaskier’s mind and subduing him. Even his poor mother seemed to relax beside him, but the strong scent of alpha, had his father growling low in his chest. The deluded fool, as if he could take on a witcher, although he probably knew he couldn’t and that was the only reason Jaskier was allowed to marry this god of a man.

“You came,” Lord Alfred of Lettenhove hissed through gritted teeth.

To Jaskier’s surprise, the alpha just laughed, one hand resting on his hips. “I told you I would. I don’t lie, human.”

“Not my son, Alfred, please. You can’t give my son to a witcher!” Jaskier’s mother begged, falling to her knees in front of her husband. “Anyone but a witcher, I’ll even agree to that lass from Nilfgaard, please, alpha.”

It was a pitiful display, one Jaskier hadn’t expected from his mother, but one that truly showed her desperation. Jaskier almost felt sorry for her…

Almost.

“What’s done is done, mother, now please, introduce me to my new husband!” Jaskier trilled happily, subconsciously baring his neck to the stranger that he was about to bind himself to, eyeing up the cat head on the silver chain around the witcher’s neck.

He’d heard rumours about those witchers; feral, insane… assassins.

Gods, Jaskier was weak.

He always had liked an alpha that could tear him in two, but it was rarer than it should have been. Jaskier was not a timid and fragile omega, in fact most people that met him confused him for a beta at first. He had a less sweet and floral scent than most omegas, and his chest was covered in thick dark hair that was almost unheard of even in male omegas, but he liked to feel small and dainty once in a while.

“Julian, I presume,” the witcher greeted, reaching out his hand which Jaskier gladly took, his heart fluttering as his alpha kissed his fingers with a surprising amount of grace. Heat prickled over his skin, as their eyes met, and that thick scent of alpha arousal almost had Jaskier on his knees, ready to worship this man’s cock in front of the entire household.

As it was he was barely able to suppress a moan, as the alpha brought Jaskier’s wrist to his neck, pressing it against the scent gland, making Jaskier whine softly at the gentle waves of pleasure that rolled over him. Fuck, the bastard was going to trigger his heat two weeks early at this rate. He bit his lip as he let his gaze roam over the Alpha’s body, hot and heavy.

“My friends call me Jaskier,” he shot back with a wink.

“And what about your husband?”

Jaskier smirked, “Darling, you can call me whatever you like.”

“Julian, you’re being indecent!” his mother snapped, scandalised in a manner that only nobility could manage.

Jaskier scoffed, “I am talking to my future husband, the man that daddy dearest picked out for me. Although,” Jaskier smirked as he turned to face the witcher, “he has been terribly rude and not even told me his name.”

“Darling, you can call me whatever you like,” the alpha winked and Jaskier gasped, stumbling back in mock offence, “but my name is Aiden.”

After that, the wedding went off without a hitch, all the necessary paperwork being completed, as their hands were tied together. It was sealed by a rather enthusiastic kiss as Jaskier jumped into his alpha’s arms, crashing his lips against his new husband’s in a mess of teeth and tongues, finally getting to inhale the alpha’s scent from up close.

His alpha.

His husband.

Jaskier had never anticipated that he would enjoy even thinking those words, but the look of despair on his parents’ faces made everything worth it. He giggled, taking his new husband by the hand and leading him to his bedchambers, thrilled by the protests from his parents who were trying to stop him from consummating the marriage, but there was no fucking way that Jaskier was going to turn down such a tempting cornucopia of delights.

“Eager, pretty little omega, aren’t you?” Aiden growled, a purr rumbling in his chest as he grazed his teeth over the scent gland on Jaskier’s neck, sending a rush of pleasure through him, slick leaking down his thighs.

“Not what you were expecting, witcher?” Jaskier teased, pulling at the ties on Aiden’s trousers.

“Not some stuck up little prick,” Aiden hummed, groping Jaskier’s arse as he pushed down Jaskier’s breeches, leaving him in just a shirt. One hand moved to run through Jaskier’s chest hair, fingers pinching at his nipples, eliciting a moan from his lips that was better suited to a whore house. “Not exactly the fragile flower you claim to be either, omega.”

“Not as easy to break, alpha,” Jaskier hummed as Aiden’s lips nipped along his neck, teeth pulling at his ear.

His scent, fuck, his scent was almost overpowering, strong, rich, sending all of Jaskier’s reason out of the window to be replaced with the desire to be fucked, knotted, mated. A now familiar tug of pre-heat clouded his mind, his cock aching, his hole empty and wanting. With a soft sigh, he ran his fingers through his own slick before pushing them inside, not nearly enough, but it took the edge off as he rocked against his own hand, pressing his body flush against his alpha’s.

He smirked as he mouthed over Aiden’s scent gland, his husband shivering under his touch. He brought his slick covered hand up to Aiden’s lips and the alpha sucked at the digits with a needy moan, his grip on Jaskier’s waist almost bruising. “Now are you going to talk all day, or are you going to fuck me? It’s been far too long since I’ve had the pleasure of an alpha’s knot.”

Jaskier’s words made something snap in Aiden, a fearsome snarl tearing from the alpha’s throat, and Jaskier was thrown onto the bed, barely able to catch his breath before Aiden’s hands were on him, calloused fingers running through the mess of slick on his thighs before pressing inside his leaking hole. Aiden’s fingers were thicker than Jaskier’s, caressing, searching, stroking until he hit that sweet spot inside of Jaskier, making him keen.

“Mine,” Aiden growled.

Jaskier moaned, bucking up off the mattress, pushing back on Aiden’s hand. “Yours, alpha, my alpha.”

Any other words Jaskier might have said were muffled by a bruising kiss, Aiden’s tongue licking into his mouth fervently. Oh and it was blissful, the alpha’s fingers fucking him so beautifully, until he was a panting mess on the bed, sweat and slick sticking to his skin. The fog of heat ruined him, turning him into nothing more than a whore, begging to be filled, knotted, claimed, and Jaskier barely recognised his own voice, hoarse, wrecked, as he cursed, and pleaded with his alpha. His fingers scraped down Aiden’s back as he thrust against his alpha’s hand, trying to get more, more, more, but Aiden had the patience rivaling the priestesses of Melitele.

Aiden pulled his fingers out, leaving Jaskier feeling so achingly empty, pitiful cries resounding in the bedchamber, howling as he was denied everything he needed.

“Fucking bastard!” he slurred, as his building pleasure eased, leaving him wanting.

“Patience, omega,” Aiden hummed, kissing the corner of Jaskier’s mouth before trailing his lips down Jaskier’s chest, sucking and nibbling at each of his nipples as he passed them, chuckling at the needy sounds Jaskier was making. He pressed soft kisses to Jaskier’s belly, nuzzling at the curve of his stomach almost reverently until Jaskier huffed, threading his fingers through his alpha’s hair and pushing his head down further. Finally, Jaskier was rewarded with his alpha’s lips around his cock, hot and wet and oh so good.

Jaskier didn’t know many alpha’s who would suck their omega’s cock, but this gorgeous stranger, seemed more than content to get lost in Jaskier’s pleasure, purring around Jaskier’s cock as if he were the most beautiful thing in the world. His fingers gripped at Jaskier’s thighs, keeping them spread as his tongue flicked over the head, lapping up the pre-cum that was leaking from the tip.

But omegas were meant to be filled, and as much as he was enjoying the heat of Aiden’s mouth around him, it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t cum like this, not whilst he was feeling so fucking empty, and gods, he needed to cum, he needed it so much he could barely think of anything else. He whined, writhing underneath Aiden’s ministrations desperate for something else, something more.

“Alpha, I need- I need,” he whimpered, his words cut off by another moan as Aiden’s tongue delved inside him, the alpha moaning into him as he tasted sweet omega slick.

The bastard had the audacity to laugh, nuzzling against Jaskier’s thigh as his lips pressed against the soft tender skin. “What do you need, little omega?” he asked before biting at the skin beneath his lips. There was a sharp pain, the alpha’s fangs not quite breaking skin but enough to hurt in the best possible way.

“F-fuck you!” Jaskier hissed, his cheeks heating up but gods, he would not let his alpha gain the upper hand.

Faster than lightning, Aiden was gone from between Jaskier’s leg, straddling Jaskier’s hips and pinning him to the bed. Fingers threaded through Jaskier’s hair and his head was yanked backwards. “Try again, buttercup.”

“Fuck me, knot me, Aiden, alpha.”

“Better,” Aiden growled, one hand moving to pin Jaskier’s wrists onto the mattress and in one swift movement had pushed inside Jaskier.

The stretch felt so good, pleasure and lustful fire burning through him, as he arched off the bed, keening as their scents mixed around him, soothing his omega, his need to get as close to his alpha as possible. Every thrust had Aiden’s cock buried deep inside him, filling him up until he could see a slight bulge on his stomach, the alpha hitting Jaskier’s sweet spot with every snap of his hips, until Jaskier was crying, tears streaming down his face as he begged for release. His alpha’s hand wrapped around his cock, tiny in comparison, pulling his orgasm from him with a start, sparks flying as he gasped, panting into Aiden’s shoulder, biting down gently as his alpha fucked him through the waves of pleasure, but it still wasn’t enough. He ground back against Aiden’s cock, sounding desperately needy, pathetic. In his heat hazed mind, he wondered how many times he could cum on his alpha’s cock. He wanted that, wanted to please his husband, his alpha, his Aiden. Jaskier would be the prettiest omega, filled with his alpha’s cum. No one would mistake Jaskier as belonging to anyone else. He was Aiden’s now, and there was nothing anyone in the world could do about it.

“Alpha,” he whined, “please. Your knot, I need it, please, fuck… gods, alpha!”

Aiden purred, a deep rumbling in his chest, pressing his lips against Jaskier’s scent gland and nuzzling into his neck until Jaskier melted against his chest, fingers digging into his Alpha’s back. Despite his orgasm, he felt more aroused than he had ever been before, a mantra of alpha, fuck, please, falling from his lips in a dizzying blur, until finally, he felt the press of Aiden’s knot teasing at his rim.

“Gods, yes,” Jaskier moaned. “Knot me, fuck, please, Alpha.”

“My omega.”

“Yours,” Jaskier agreed, “my alpha.”

Aiden growled, his fangs latching onto Jaskier’s neck, turning Jaskier’s world upside down as the mating bond snapped into place in a rush of pheromones and emotions, triggering Jaskier’s orgasm from out of the blue. One moment he’d been blissfully sated on his alpha’s cock, the next pleasure tore through him like lightning, cum spilling over his stomach for a second time as Aiden pumped him full, breeding him, the knot popping into place and tying them together.

“Oh- oh fuck,” Jaskier groaned, falling back against the mattress and Aiden collapsed on top of him, still rolling his hips in shallow thrusts to push the knot deeper inside. “Bloody hell, that was good.”

Aiden snorted, not bothering to lift his head from Jaskier’s chest. “Good?”

“Perfect,” Jaskier sighed, running his hands through Aiden’s hair until the witcher was purring happily, nuzzling against him, murmuring soft praise into Jaskier’s skin.

Perhaps being a noble wasn’t so bad, not when your parents married you off to a gorgeous and charming witcher.

_

Taglist: @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde, @comfyswitcherblanketfort, @fontegagrilledcheese, @dani-dandelino, @dapandapod @unyielding-as-the-sea @officerjennie @feraljaskier @geralt-of-riviass @kueble @gilberik @llamasdumpsterfire

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

When It Pulls Me Under (Will You Make Me Stronger?)

also on ao3

written for the Monster March prompt list

From the moment he sees the notice, Geralt is horrified. The description of the man is far too familiar, the details piercing through the thick protective walls he's been building around himself.

There is a group of men gathered around the signboard, picking up flyers and huddling around one in particular. A contract on a man possessed. It sounds like an old wive’s tale and most of the men are surely there to pick up an easy coin on what they think is a drunk roaming the town. Geralt knows better.

Demonic possession isn't common, but he's seen it before. He's fought them and sent them back to the otherworld they come from. Only this time, the man they describe, the one thought to be possessed, is Jaskier. Geralt is certain of it.

It's been months since they've seen each other, but the way they parted, Jaskier's whole demeanour, his expression- if he truly felt the way he looked on the top of that mountain, the way he felt, he'd be much more susceptible to possession.

And it's Geralt's fault.

He shoves through the crowd, grabbing the notice from a gruff-looking man with a black beard. A few of them shout and shove, but when they look up at him, all fall silent. One or two slink away, knowing they're no match for a Witcher, especially in this field, but most of them watch him in stunned silence. They reek of fear, and for once Geralt is glad for it. He doesn't want anyone getting involved and mucking this up. It's been a long time since their parting on the mountain and he can only hope the demon hasn't taken hold of Jaskier completely.

It's rare that Geralt has full faith in any notice or request for a Witcher, but as he folds the paper and tucks it into his jerkin, he's certain.

The request says to speak to the local blacksmith, so that's where Geralt heads first. He doesn't know what to expect, nor is he particularly looking forward to what he'll find, but he needs to know. Jaskier was- is important to him and if he can help in any way, he'll be happy to. Demons can and will eventually take over their host body, leaving the host all but dead, unable to move and think for themself, and Geralt would rather let the thing possess him than let that happen to Jaskier.

The blacksmith says exactly what Geralt was expecting; a foppish, well-dressed man with a bright smile. He'd killed four already in town, and there were rumours of cases in surrounding towns and villages as well. All people betrayed. Like Jaskier was betrayed by him.

He spends the remainder of the day gathering any information he can from the locals and rents a room at the inn. It's more for Jaskier once he's finished than it is for himself, but it gives him someone to keep his things when he's not needing them. And it gives him an excuse for a warm meal and an ale - not that he thinks he deserves either.

Because all of this is his fault. Four people are dead, likely more, and Jaskier risks losing his own life if he's not quick enough - all because Geralt fucked up so many months ago.

He never wanted to push Jaskier away. If anything, after losing Yen, he wanted to bring him closer, hold him closer, know that someone at least was still there for him. But everyone leaves eventually - Yen had only proven that - so why not make it sooner rather than later. Why fall further in love only to have him ripped away later anyway, if not by choice, then by the brutal mortality of a human.

He shakes his head, looks down at his stew, but he's not hungry any longer. Pushing the bowl aside, Geralt empties his mug and rises from the table. He has to get started or he'll lose his mind lingering here, even if there's not much to go off yet. He'll just have to wait.

The last murder took place just at the back of the grain farm, so Geralt sets himself up there, waiting. It's late before there's any sign of anything, and when he does show up, Geralt smells him before he sees him. He stinks of fear and betrayal and loathing and Geralt wants to run so he doesn't have to see the pain on his pace, so he doesn't have to face what he's done. But he knows better now. Jaskier deserves better. And he has a job to do. More people will die if he doesn't take care of this now.

Luckily (or not) Jaskier spots him too, sauntering over like he doesn't have a care in the world. Only Geralt can tell immediately that it's not Jaskier. The movements are too fluid for a human body, the way he holds himself just slightly off.

The demon approaches knowing full well who Geralt is, what he's there for, and it steps right up to him, the smug smirk on its face a mockery.

"Well, Witcher," it says in Jaskier's voice, "didn't expect to see me, did you?"

"You're not him," Geralt says calmly, keeping his voice as steady as he can manage. "You reek of your own plane, I'd know you weren't him in an instant"

"Oh, but I am," it purrs, "your bard is in here... somewhere, but he's sleeping. It's all me now."

Geralt grits his teeth. He knows that isn't true. His medallion trembles against his chest and he can smell the scent of ozone and sulphur but, he knows Jaskier is still in there. He's fought against demons who have completely consumed their host and they aren't like this.

"Get out of him," he warns, knowing full well there's nothing he can do. He needs to bring Jaskier to the surface, needs Jaskier to be the one to push the demon from his body. Any harm Geralt can do risks harm to Jaskier as well.

"I don't think I will," it shrugs. "I like this body. Everyone likes this body. It's so easy to get close to them, to lull them into a sense of security and then-"

"Enough!" Geralt growls, "I know what you've been doing with his body! I'm here to put an end to it."

"Mmm, sure you are. And how do you intend to do that without harming your poor, precious bard?"

He doesn't know. The last time they saw each other, Geralt was furious and Jaskier was... if he had to put a word to it, he'd say he was devastated. The last person he'll want to see is Geralt and without time to find someone he will react to... Geralt doesn't break eye contact. He has to try something.

It's a long shot, even for him, but he mumbles the beginning notes from memory; he's heard them often enough to know the whole damn song by heart. If anything could bring Jaskier back, it's his music.

But he hums a little and there's no response. Again, and there's no response. So he thinks back to a night he spent at a tavern, to a bright-eyed bard with curly blonde hair. She had announced the song as belonging to Jaskier, but Geralt didn't recognize it, but it was emotional. And he understood at once who it was intended for. Clearing his throat, he tries out the words,

"The fairer sex, they often call it-"

The demon laughs and mocks him, but Geralt doesn't relent, singing as much as he can recall from that night. And when he runs out of words, his chest aches and he moves instinctively, reaching out to grab Jaskier's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispers and the body under his hand jolts. It's so brief he would miss it were he human, but it happens, and when he looks up, there's clarity behind those blue eyes, recognition.

"Jaskier!" he exclaims and Jaskier's whole demeanour shifts.

"Geralt?" he asks, groggy, confused.

"Yes! Yes, it's me. Jaskier, are you-" there's a gurgling groan and Jaskier stiffens again.

"I don't think so," the demon's voice comes, taunting and sharp. "You had a chance. You left him, right? Your choice. So he's mine now." There's a choking sound and a growl that could rival that of a wolf and Jaskier's limbs loosen again.

Geralt reaches for him immediately and Jaskier slumps forward into his arms, panting.

"'S hard to fight," he mumbles and Geralt tugs him forward, helps him straighten up.

"How did you do that?" Geralt huffs, meeting Jaskier's eyes again as they stand up straight.

"Heard you," he offers a small smile, "knew you must have come to help. Geralt, I didn't mean to- I didn't want this-"

"I know. Jaskier, I know. It took advantage, it's my fault."

"No, I should have known better than to think you'd-"

Geralt doesn't think before winding his arms around him and pulling Jaskier into a warm embrace. He holds him close and presses his nose into Jaskier's neck.

"Not your fault," he mumbles. "I never wanted you to think you were unwanted, that I didn't care-"

"Geralt," Jaskier says, pulling back out of his arms, "what are you saying?"

Unthinking, Geralt leans forward, catching Jaskier's lips in a desperate kiss. His mouth tastes of sulphur and ash, but he pushes past that, feeling Jaskier soft and real under his hands. He's human, Geralt reminds himself, this can be expelled. And even as Jaskier pulls back again, a look of shock on his face, he seems brighter, his skin a little less pale.

"Geralt," he whispers, "what-" Geralt tips forward, their noses bumping together in the proximity.

"Can you hold it?" he asks. "You broke free from its hold, can you keep that control?"

"It's hard."

"I need you to try," Geralt breathes, shutting his eyes. "I can't help you, Jaskier, you need to expel it yourself."

"How?" he asks, panicky.

"Hold on to something. It was able to take hold because you were weak, right? Because of what I said?

"Geralt-"

"You need to be strong, find something and hold onto that, show it that it has no place in your body any longer. What helped you break free the first time?"

Jaskier suddenly goes very quiet, ducks his head so he's not looking at Geralt.

"I heard your voice," he admits, "and I've been hoping, gods Geralt, I've been so desperate to see you again, to make sure you're okay that nothing has finally-" he cuts himself off and Geralt nods quietly. He understands.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, "hold on to me, then. Focus on me, on my hands, on my voice." He kisses him again and Jaskier lets out a soft sound, wrapping his arms around Geralt's neck and holding him close.

He kisses him like he's dying for it and Geralt thinks grimly that it's an apt comparison. But he'll take it. He'll do anything to get this thing out of Jaskier, to have Jaskier back at his side like he used to be. To maybe be given a chance for what he really wants.

He puts all of his energy into kissing Jaskier, running his hands over his body, proving to him that he cares, that he's here now even if he hasn't been. That he's coming back to take him away from this darkness. His hands slip under Jaskier's doublet, tangling in the soft linen of his shirt and he clings to him.

Jaskier makes a soft sound and presses forward fitting against him like that's where he belongs and Geralt wants so badly to believe that he does. That all of this can be fixed, after all. Fingers slip into his hair, tugging lightly and Geralt can't help the little groan that escapes him, but it only seems to push Jaskier on.

Jaskier draws back, nipping at Geralt's lip and when he pulls back completely, he's panting, his cheeks flushed and bright with colour.

"How do you feel?" Geralt asks and Jaskier tips forward, brushing his lips against Geralt's neck.

"Good. Stronger than I have in months. Geralt, I have a thought. What if... if you're what I need to fight it off what if you- if we-"

"Anything," Geralt hums, "anything to get it out of you."

Jaskier leans in, pressing his lips to the shell of Geralt's ear. "Fuck me," he whispers and Geralt nearly stumbles at the request.

"Jask-"

"I need you," he whispers, "Geralt, I want you. I've always wanted you and you- you can give me that now and I'll never bother you again, but please."

"Okay," Geralt huffs, "okay, but not because I need to. Jaskier, I... want you, too. That's why I'm here, now."

"Say it again," Jaskier whispers.

"I want you."

"Mmm. Again."

"Jaskier," Geralt repeats, slipping his hands down to the small of his back and tugging him forward, "I love you. I want you. I will do anything to get you free of this thing." He lifts him off his feet and there's no hesitation. It feels like Jaskier's body would appear to anyone else that he's alone in it now, but Geralt knows better. He knows Jaskier can't keep this up forever, that the bond between them is the only thing keeping the demon at bay.

Geralt finds a spot near the treeline and kneels down in a patch of clover. He tugs his cloak off and lays it out as well as he can, spreading it out with one hand before laying Jaskier down on it. It feels somewhat like handling a bomb, afraid that one wrong move could shift Jaskier's control and he could lose him again. Geralt may be what he's clinging to to pull himself back, but he's also the reason Jaskier was so low in the first place. He thinks, briefly, that it's a good thing his emotional stability is not what's keeping Jaskier safe or they'd be fucked.

Jaskier settles himself and reaches up for him, fingers slipping around his neck and Geralt moves over him, dropping onto his elbows. He noses at Jaskier's neck, kissing behind his head and down to the crook of his shoulder, gently lifting his shirt and doublet out of the way as they interfere. His heart is pounding and he's never felt so out of his depth with Jaskier before, but he can't fuck this up. If he fucks this up-

Soft hands come to settle on his face and he's aware of Jaskier's voice, but it's foggy, like a dream. Geralt's body moves as though on its own, working open the clasps on Jaskier's doublet and lifting the shirt up over his head. He runs his fingers through dark chest hair, stopping over a freshly healed scar. It snaps the last of his focus and Geralt curls his hand into a fist, pressed firmly over Jaskier's head.

He doesn't realize he's trembling until Jaskier pushes him up, rolls him onto his side.

"Hey," he breathes, and Geralt's eyes snap up to his. "Hey, it's just me. It's... quiet right now, thanks to you." Jaskier climbs onto him, straddling his thighs, and for a split second, Geralt is terrified he's fucked up, that the demon is in control and this is Jaskier's revenge on him.

But his medallion only lightly shakes against his chest and Jaskier's touch is soft and reassuring. So Geralt steadies himself, allows Jaskier to undress him and tries to focus on the touch of him. But he should be doing more, he should be- He doesn't realize he's speaking out loud until Jaskier interrupts him with a pointed kiss that lingers longer, Geralt suspects, than intended.

"You don't have to do anything," Jaskier breathes against him, "it, er- it's actually better being able to touch you. I- well, Geralt you must know that I've wanted you."

"Yeah..." he replies slowly, "Jaskier, I-

"Shh," Jaskier hums, "if you really think this will help, let's just get rid of this thing first."

Jaskier reaches down with one hand, easily pulling Geralt's trousers open and slipping a hand inside, wrapping around his cock. It feels good and he's thought about this more times than he can remember, but he can't settle, and even Jaskier's hand around him, fingers slipping up the length of him, fails to get him hard. He squirms and bucks, trying to get his body to cooperate, to no avail.

He feels the shift when it happens, like a shudder in the air and he knows Jaskier is slipping. His medallion shakes and Geralt pulls Jaskier's hand from his cock, settling his hands on his sides.

"It's not your fault," he whispers, "it's not you."

"Geralt, you don't have to-"

"I know. I want to, I just- I don't know what's wrong."

"You're in your head," Jaskier says simply, "you're always so... locked up up there. Maybe we shouldn't."

Geralt shuts his eyes and pulls Jaskier against him. Jaskier settles and Geralt pushes one hand up his spine, curling around the back of his neck. The other moves down, following the same line toward his lower back to cup his ass. He pushes Jaskier's hips forward and there's a soft little groan against his neck and he can feel the press of Jaskier's cock, hard against Geralt's hip.

"I still want you," Geralt whispers. The words feel stilted on his tongue, but there isn't time for him to worry about how he sounds or what Jaskier thinks of him because he's not the one at risk here. He reaches into the pouch on his thigh, fumbling with the bottles until he finds the one he's looking for.

There's not a lot of oil left, but it's the only one he has that he would risk putting on Jaskier's skin. Tentatively, he pushes Jaskier's trousers down, slipping his fingers between his cheeks. Jaskier's breath catches and Geralt can hear the thudding of his heartbeat, smell the scent of arousal drifting between them, but he's so worried about fucking this up. Jaskier's life could be in danger if the demon gets hold again.

"Okay?" he asks and Jaskier hums his confirmation into his neck, nosing under his jaw. Geralt hurriedly uncorks the bottle, and slicks his fingers, pushing back again and Jaskier shudders as they brush over his hole. Even Geralt shudders at the touch and he presses forward eagerly.

Jaskier opens for him easily, allowing two fingers inside him quickly. He fumbles to get his trousers undone, letting his cock slip free and peek out, rubbing against Geralt's skin. Pre-come eases the way as he rocks his hips in time with Geralt's fingers and Geralt's cock stirs.

Jaskier shifts, lifting himself to push back onto Geralt's fingers and then settling again so his cock sits alongside Geralt's. His hips twitch hard as Geralt's fingers brush his prostate and Geralt groans at the sensation. He readjusts his own position, shifting his torso so he can press deeper, bumping against his prostate with every thrust.

He keeps a steady pace going, one hand remaining on Jaskier's neck to brace him, even as Jaskier slumps against him, rutting mindlessly and nipping at his neck. He looks beautiful like this, feels incredible, and Geralt should be able to muster more than a twinge of arousal, but all he feels is scared.

Scared that this won't work, that he's taking advantage, that once this is done - if it is successful - Jaskier won't want anything to do with him again. He uses that emotion to push through, fucking into him until Jaskier's thighs shake around him and then, with a quick thrust, Jaskier's coming.

He shakes and shudders, hips jerking erratically and Geralt holds him with one hand, fucking him through it with the other. He's aware of Jaskier whispering in his ear, but he's too focused on the medallion, now shaking violently against his chest.

Then, just as abruptly as it started, it stops and Jaskier slumps.

Geralt holds his breath, withdrawing his hand and wrapping both arms around Jaskier's shoulders. He listens for a pulse, for the sound of breath and for a moment, there's nothing. Geralt shuts his eyes. He doesn't believe in any gods, nor destiny, but he pleads to them now, not to let Jaskier be taken from him, not for his words, not for his mistakes.

Just when Geralt thinks he's lost him, Jaskier inhales sharply against his neck, gives a soft grunt of protest and shifts to get comfortable. He doesn't wake and Geralt doesn't let him go, clinging tightly to him.

Jaskier doesn't wake until late that evening. They're back at the inn and Geralt's had a bath drawn and food brought up for them both, but he hasn't been able to eat. He'd cleaned them both up in the field, dressed Jaskier as well as he could manage and brought him back here. Since then, he's been pacing the room. For hours. When Jaskier stirs, Geralt nearly jumps out of his skin. He's at the bedside in an instant, on his knees next to him.

"Geralt?" Jaskier asks, confused. He's still a little woozy and Geralt doesn't know how much he'll wind up remembering.

"I'm here."

"How did I-" he eyelids flutter a little, "Geralt, did we-"

"Shh, relax. I'll tell you everything after you have a bath and something to eat." He reaches out, resting a hand on Jaskier's chest and Jaskier's hand comes up to cover it, slipping his fingers between Geralt's. His eyes fall shut again.

"You didn't get to come," he mumbles and Geralt huffs a laugh despite himself.

"It doesn't matter," Geralt breathes, leaning in and tentatively laying his head on Jaskier's stomach. "You're okay and that's all that matters." Jaskier's free hand curls around to push his fingers through Geralt's hair and he sighs softly.

"Later then," Jaskier says, "you can join me in the bath and I'll make you come."

[mandoalorian]

Sugar and Spice [Maxwell Lord x Reader] - Chapter 2

Summary: When you are evicted from your apartment by your toxic ex boyfriend and have no place to go, who do you turn to? Alone in the city as the countdown to Christmas begins, you find yourself applying for a job as the assistant of the world’s biggest entrepreneur; Maxwell Lord. Little do you know, he has other intentions for you. No doubt about it, this Christmas will truly be like no other.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Eventual smut, mentions of a previous verbally abusive relationship, typical 80s misogyny (but very little of it), mentions of food and drink, alcohol consumption. This is a sugardaddy x sugarbaby fic soooo… a daddy k!nk too oops.

But in this chapter - allusions to sex and MAJOR sexual tension hehe :)

Author’s note: Chapter 2 let’s go!! I hope everyone is enjoying so far! Remember if you wanted to be added to my taglist feel free to let me know!

MASTERLIST | SUBMIT REQUESTS

PREVIOUS - CHAPTER TWO - NEXT 

You had been mesmerised just from entering Black Gold Cooperative— but actually stepping foot in Maxwell Lord's office was a whole different story. The entire building was decked out in Christmas decorations, pine trees and tinsel on every corner, but as you stepped foot in his larger-than-life office, there was not a single thing that highlighted festive spirit in sight. Nevertheless, you were in awe, immediately taking in the paintings, the pottery, the statues… it was like every little thing was embellished in gold. You hadn't even laid your eyes on Maxwell yet, but he was certainly looking at you.

You weren't exactly sure what you took a man like Maxwell Lord for. You considered him to be the tacky kind— but every piece of furniture in his office looked antique— like it came straight out of a museum. You admired the paintings on the walls. One thing's for sure, you didn't expect him to be a man who appreciated art culture. They were magnificent, and of all different shapes and sizes.

Maxwell Lord slouched back into his chair and watched you intently, his dark eyes following your every move. You were like no other girl who had come in for an interview, that's for sure. You were dressed in a thick, cream coloured winter coat and he noted the hat and gloves that were stuffed messily into your pocket. Your wet boots left a puddle of water where you had entered his office and he noted the little snowflakes balancing in your windswept, knotted hair.

He was surprised, to say the least. The past week he had been conducting interviews in-attempt to find someone suitable for the job role at hand. Dozens of young girls would confidently strut into his office— their high heels clicking against the expensive marble floor. They would try wooing him with a bat of eyelashes, which of course, Maxwell did not shame their attempts. Despite their unsuccess at acquiring the job, Maxwell did make sure they got a little something from him in return.

The businessman's eyes darted to the trash can under his desk as he looked at the discarded silk handkerchiefs he had just used to clean himself up after his last interview. Then, he re-acquainted his gaze to you, and picked up on the fact that you had yet to acknowledge his presence. You were too caught up in the furnishings of his office. You really were different.

"Ms Minerva?" Maxwell called you eventually, clearing his throat. Not recognising your newly claimed fake name, you didn't budge, but instead let your fingers trace the countries of a world map that hung on the wall. Pins had been stabbed into the capitals of most countries and you wondered what it meant. Perhaps it was all the countries he had visited— or more likely, all the companies that had shares in his black gold business. "Ms Minerva." Maxwell repeated, his voice more solid this time.

You felt your body freeze up, wondering how long he had been calling you for. Shit, you thought. You really believe you had messed up— just stumbling into his office and paying no attention to him whatsoever.

"Oh!" you gasped, spinning around on the heel of your foot, almost slipping on the water you had trailed in with you. Maxwell couldn't help but let the small smirk creep upon his lips at your clumsy but innocent nature. "Your office is… it's so…" 

"What you expected?" Maxwell prompted, leaning over the desk slightly trying to get a closer look at you.

Something about your demeanor drew him to you and he couldn't place his finger on what exactly it was. He wondered what your deal was. He wondered why you had decided to attend possibly the most prestigious interview of your life dressed the way you had. You hoped he didn't think you were deliberately ignoring him.

"No- I mean. I'm not sure what I expected, really," You admitted with a small shrug before approaching an oil painting. "This is magnificent," you said. "I've never seen such intricate work before."

The painting was huge— quite possibly the biggest one in the room. It was posed, of course, and you wondered how long the poor models had to stand there to be painted. They were positioned on a grand staircase with a purple carpet rolling up it. They looked stern- mean- not an emotion in sight.

"That's a family portrait," Maxwell informed you from his chair. "My family." 

Oh.

You digested the image of the couple with their young son. The child was no older than ten, you guessed, with dark blonde-browning hair and he was dressed in a shirt, shorts and bow tie. The couple stood behind him, and the pair consisted of a beautiful woman with red hair and pearl earrings wearing a fur coat and sleek silk dress.  "Your wife is gorgeous." You said, quietly, entranced by the family portrait.

Maxwell paused, his eyes not moving from you for a second. "That's my mother." he deadpanned.

You curled your fingers into a fist at your own shameless and idiotic comment. You could not forget how much you needed this job— you had to do better.

"Oh," you replied, feeling a flush of embarrassment wash over you. "So that little boy is you, hm? Your hair is lighter nowadays," you smiled light-heartedly but Maxwell didn't share the warm sentiment. "You look just like your father." You admitted, eyes flicking between the suited man in the painting, and the suited man who was sitting at his desk behind you.

Both men were of an average height, with broad shoulders and the same, identical cunning smirk. Big brown eyes and swept but styled hair. You very little about the Lord family — to the general public, they were always an enigma. Tabloids would spread rumours and no one ever really knew the truth. You hoped you hadn't hit a nerve with the comparison, but as seconds went on, you cursed yourself for your inability to just keep your mouth shut.

Maxwell didn't reply to your comment, and the silence was deafening. For the first time, he looked away from you and into the light oak wood of his desk which he had inherited from his late father. He let a few sad thoughts ponder his mind as you continued to scower his office looking at all the high end decor, before taking a big huff of breath. It wasn't her fault, she couldn't know any better. Maxwell told himself, but it didn't hurt any less. 

Her words stung but he pushed them back as far as he could. Blocking out his emotions was something Maxwell had done his whole life and had become quite accustomed to. This was ridiculous. Maxwell wouldn't let himself get worked up over a brief comment about his father, by a girl wearing a last season winter coat who he had never met before. He stiffened up and cleared his throat.

"Ms Minerva, if you are going to just scope my office I'd be in my right mind to call security and have you thrown out." Maxwell sighed, tapping his fingers impatiently against the desk. Your head bolted towards him.

"Oh! I'm so so sorry." you pressed your hands in a pleading manner.

As Maxwell took in your form, his mind began to race. He could get used to looking at you like that. Pleading for him— on your knees— begging for just a taste of what he had to offer. The dirty thoughts consumed his mind and he shifted in his chair feeling a familiar fire in his lower stomach. Brushing past your pretty, doe-like eyes, he reached for a gold fountain pen and an expensive looking journal, opening it up.

"Why are you here?" Maxwell asked, dropping the pen, slouching back into his leather chair and kicking his feet up on his desk. You swallowed the hard lump that had appeared in your throat as you took in his posture.

"Uhm, well I- uh-" you struggled to find words. My god he was attractive. You hadn't paid much attention before, but now that he was sitting there right before your eyes, you felt a small warmth creep up between your legs.

He was just lounging right before you— his body spread out. He wasn't wearing the smart suit jacket as you had pictured, but instead, a crisp white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You could see the light hair on his arms glisten under the setting sun, and the yellow gold of his Rolex wristwatch sparkle as he played with the rings on his fingers.

Maxwell caught you staring at his hands. How could you not? Teasingly, he began rolling his jewelled rings up and down his long thick fingers. You found yourself biting your lower lip, pulling all your energy into suppressing a moan as you watched the way his fingers moved. You took in every detail, wanting to remember it forever— the light bronzed shade of his skin and the wrinkles over his knuckles. His nails were short but definitely well manicured. You let out the smallest gasp as you imagined how they would feel inside of you. You wondered how many of his fingers you could take and how they would stretch you open. You imagined his thumb rubbing circles into your clit as he finger fucked you and suddenly you felt your panties dampen. Your knees went weak.

He moved his large ring clad hands and folded them against his broad chest, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. You always wondered to what extent his magazine covers had been edited but he was just as handsome as he was on television, in real life. One thing you noticed was that his usual styled dark blonde hair was only slightly out of place, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. It was a change from his ordinary pristine appearance. Seeing that you were struggling to answer his question, Maxwell pointed his finger and gestured you closer to him. You walked towards him and stood still in front of him, only his desk between you both.

"Take it off." he mumbled, his gaze strong and steady on your body. You swore your mind was playing games on you as you engulfed his dark choice for words. You were absolutely ready to submit to him but deep down you knew that you were over-thinking.

"I- I'm sorry?" You croaked out.

His smirk grew and a small dimple appeared in his left cheek. "Your coat. Take it off." He commanded and you mouthed a small 'oh' before following his instructions and dropping your wet winter coat to the floor.  You cursed yourself. You were ready to completely undress yourself for this man you had never met before. Did he have this effect on everyone? "Turn around." he prompted you, twirling his finger in gesture. You slowly spun around a few times and Maxwell was struggling to contain himself.

You were delightful— wearing just a pair of washed out flared jeans and a geometric print t shirt. The jeans were very 70s, flaring out at the bottom, and Maxwell wondered how out of date your wardrobe was. He wondered if you'd let him take you out clothes shopping. Maxwell felt flushed as he took in how perfectly the denim sculpted your thighs and the round of your ass. He found your body exquisite. The t-shirt was thin, and he was surprised you had opted for such a fashion choice in the depth of winter. Despite the central heating being turned on, he couldn't help but notice the way your nipples poked through your shirt, hardened from the cold weather— or so he assumed they were hard from the cold weather. You felt his eyes bore into your chest and you crossed your arms over yourself, hoping he hadn't spotted your arousal. Maxwell felt his cock twitch at the sight of you and he fought the urge to bend you over and fuck you right then and there on his desk. You had an air of innocence to you, and he didn't want to ruin that. At least, not yet.

"Is everything okay sir?" Your voice was soft like honey and a small grunt escaped Maxwell's throat. He had just gotten off with his previous interviewee but you were simply something else.

"Perfect," he hummed wistfully. "Please, take a seat." You obeyed his order and slid down into the chair opposite to him. "Tell me, Ms Minerva. What urged you to lie about your identity?"

You felt your heart stop and your fingers gripped the arms of your chair. Shit, you thought to yourself. He had caught on. You gulped and tried to find a quick witted yet believable response to him but it you couldn't. Normally you were great at answering back but sitting before Maxwell Lord had you feeling some kind of way and you couldn't shake it.

"Tell me, who are you really?" He urged. You contemplated his words and decided there was no pointing in continuing your long winded lie. You were surprised you had made it this far without getting caught in the first place. He was still smirking, however, and it seemed like he didn't really care at all. Giving in, you told him your real name.

"Mr Lord, if I may ask, how did you know I wasn't Barbara Minerva?" you asked Maxwell.

"I can read minds." Maxwell said darkly, staring deep into your eyes.

Oh, his eyes. They had darkened significantly— once a chocolate brown but now they could easily be confused for black. Suddenly the extravagant decor around his office had become a mere back thought and you had been absolutely captured by his handsome looks. His skin was golden under the setting sun behind him and it accentuated the blonde highlights in his hair. His eyelashes were long and dark and his lips were the perfect shape. His nose was rather prominent and curved slightly and you imagined what it would be like pressed against your face as he kissed you. 

You wanted him to take you in his arms and glide his large hands all over your body, caressing you and touching you everywhere he could. Sliding his hand up your shirt and cupping your breast as he settled lazy sloppy kisses into your neck and collarbones. Realising you had been silent for perhaps a moment too long, you let out a loud laugh.

"Right," you chortled in disbelief. "Read minds. Very funny." you grinned and you even caught him stifle down a dry chuckle.

"I like you," Maxwell admitted and you felt your heart stop. "I think you'd be well suited working for me. Of course… we might have to sort out your wardrobe. I'd like to offer you a job."

He had barely asked you any questions and he already made his mind up. You couldn't believe your luck.

"Wait, really?" you asked, your eyes widening with delight.

Maxwell nodded slowly. "Did one of my secretaries have you sign an NDA on your way in here?" 

"Yes sir," you bit your lip anxiously. You had wondered what the non-disclosure agreement was for.

"So you know that if you repeat any of this to anyone else after our interview is over, I can and will sue you."

Not that you had any money anyway, his cold words still made you nervous. He was one of the most powerful men in the world. Friends with the president of the USA, he had relations with practically every country who bought his oil, and now, he was offering you a job.

"Yes sir." you repeated obediently, fluttering your eyelashes at him. The way that word rolled off your tongue— He felt his cock harden in his pants. You were just so damn pretty.

"I have to tell you then," Maxwell leaned forward on his desk, interlocking his fingers together. He was inches away from you, gazing into your eyes. "I'm not looking for an assistant." His voice was dark and menacing and a lustful glint appeared in his eyes.

"You- you're not?" You stammered, feeling your cheeks flush with heat. You wondered what job you had actually gone for.

"How familiar are you with sugar dating?" Maxwell raised an eyebrow, his eyes now glaring dark and sinister.

"Su-sugar dating?"

You weren't overly familiar, but sure, you had read your fair share of erotic novels that illustrated such prospect.

Maxwell stood up from his chair and walked around his desk before perching on top of it and looking down at you. "I'm looking for a certain kind of arrangement, per-se," Maxwell explained. "You give me what I want, and I give you what you want. Money, clothes, diamonds, jewellery, cars… whatever your heart desires. It's yours. Think about finally having everything you always wanted."

Your gaze met the floor as you contemplated his words. No, he couldn't be serious. He had the wrong girl. "Sir," your voice was a timid whisper. "I don't think I possess anything you could want." you told him sadly, insecurity bubbling inside you. He was the Maxwell Lord. Esteemed, knowledgeable, reputable, and he worked amongst the most beautiful and well dressed women you had ever seen. Yet, here you were, sitting before him, and he had chosen you.

Maxwell shook his head. "No." he said simply, extending his arm and curling his fingers around your chin, pointing it upwards so you were looking up at him. He wanted to trace your pretty lips with his fingers— spread them apart and feel the warmth as he let you taste him.

"No?" You beckoned, your heart trashing against your chest. His hands were so soft but his touch was rough and he steadied the hard grip around your face. If it were any other man, you would've pushed him off you, cursing him. But this wasn't just any man. 

"You have everything I want."

December Magic: @kiwi-the-first​ @100layersofdaddyissues​ @mrschiltoncat​ @honeymandos​ @thisisthe-way​ @this-cat-is-dea​ 

Permanent: @goth-topic​  @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria​ 

[psticide]

He's sprawled on the floor of Kai's office, looking strangely comfortable, phone held above him as he scrolls through it idly. "Your wife has a fucking interesting way of trying to make sure to... I guess pay you back for letting her do whatever? Oh my god, are you cuckolding each other? What the fuck were your vows like? Did you add a 'between sticking things in other people's orifices' in between 'to love and to cherish' and 'til death do us part'? Do you... do vows like that in this country? Wait is this a normal thing? Y'all polygamists here?"

The scratch of Kai's pen halts as Wrench's comment, albeit worded in it's usual crude manner that he both loved and hated and love to hate, did have some merit. As a lucky few outsider that got to see a little bit of how their marriage truly worked, it certainly was strange to say the least. To the average person, he and Fujiko were the happy couple; and they were happy..

.. but hardly a couple in the traditional, romantic sense.

His pen is gently placed beside the book he was balancing; something he usually lets Mimic do, but recent transactions had him pouring over finances himself and other boring affairs. His hands steep together, chin resting on the bridge created.

"Polyamory suggests that all parties involved are within the relationship. I hardly go around fucking with her pets and she teases but won't touch you." he hums, how best to word it? Well, how it really was.

"As yakuza, there are traditions for me to meet that hold some merit in this old-style world. Oyabuns have their wives, or their harem or whatever, but there is always an heir -- adopted, born of birthrigt.. It also gets a lot of people off my back thinking they can use sex as a way to manipulate me because they think I'm single and available." he states. "It adds to image and reputation to have a partner."

Kai gives a vague gesture. "-- I like men, Wrench. Specifically, I like being under men, and yes, that does mean mainly you right now. The point is, Fujiko provides me with a shield to deflect unnecessary yakuza bosses trying to angle political marriage, and allows me to enjoy part of what I love without rumour, scandal, and danger to my partners. As compensation, I let her take as many pets as she wants. It's a good arrangement."

He picks up the pen again, offhandedly adding; "-- That, and the only one obligation she has to fill for me is pop out a child. Eventually. I won't live forever. Someone will need to take over my family."

[artificialqueens]

papa don't preach. (jackie/gigi) — roza

a seven part story where each chapter details a different relationship with jackie based solely on the song correlated to their individual madonna rusical verses.

summary: the year is 1989 and gigi is in love but can't do a damn thing about it. it seems that everything including time is working against her and jackie. [ verse three: papa don't preach ]

author's note: this will probably be my favourite chapter I write because besides nackie I feel like this ship has become some what of a brand for me and I'm glad since I've shipped them since episode one. thank you jankie candle gc for support always.

My Tumblr: @leljaaa / AO3 Link / ( ꈍᴗꈍ)

*.✧

"You coming to the party tonight?"

Gigi turned, closing her locker as she let out a simple huff.

The blonde hated parties.

It seemed a bit strange for the head cheerleader to be so opposed to the pinnacle of what high school popularity was measured. Gigi hummed as she licked the small bit of lipstick stuck to her teeth as she pulled back her long hair.

"Probably not," she said simply as she grinned seeing her best friend  

Crystal groaned, rubbing against her shoulder trying to convince the cheerleader to finally let loose and have some fun. The high school seniors walking down the hallways. She knew that unassertive look from anywhere after a decade of friendship.

"It's gonna be so fun all of the cheer team and some of my girls will be there," her best friend began with a wide smile creeping across her lips as she spoke excitedly at the sentiment that she was beginning to finally be invited to parties their last year of high school.

"If you wanna experience what these parties are like just get two cheap, gas station bottles of Vodka and some snow from down the block."

The redhead hit her shoulders as Gigi gasped, "You're acting like I'm lying! These parties are just excuses for the jocks to up their body count and for everyone to get blackout wasted and wear sunglasses to school the next day."

Alcohol and drugs were fun the first two times until everyone around you turned against you and was in their own psychedelic ward blasting Chaka Khan and AC/DC over their parent's home radio.

"Your boyfriend is gonna be there you know!"

Gigi gnawed at the inside of her cheeks, crossing her arms as they walked towards the parking lot, skipping their last period pottery class together in favour of getting soda from the nearby gas station and sharing a cigarette.

This boyfriend Gigi had was quite interesting.

It was the stereotypical, cutesy head cheerleader with the stunning quarterback that every school and every movie seemed to eat up.

He was decent at best and they were only really together because Gigi was far too afraid to break up with him considering her current situation.

He was cheating. She knew it, she knew for months but still would smile blissfully when he'd come to say hello in the morning or kiss her by Crystal's locker. She saw all of the guilty looks that the other cheerleaders or the side eyes from some of the art students.

She knew.

"I love you ," was something the blonde never heard and she hoped she never would because they both knew in the back of their heads this was purely a mental picture to last the rest of the year and not a relationship.

"I already said no, I told him that Jackie is helping me study for that stupid math exam next week."

Crystal rolled her eyes.

Gigi and Jackie had been seeing each other almost everyday after school for almost three months. She never questioned a single about it, there was no way Gigi would ever be with a woman considering how important her popularity and status at school was to her.

Jackie was extremely sweet and Crystal always enjoyed coming over and seeing Gigi so genuinely happy and glad to have the two of them together.

The Persian was the perfect student every parent dreamed of though from what Jackie explained it was just what every Middle Eastern mother expected.

Debate captain, immaculate grades, student body president two years in a row and extremely passionate. Crystal always felt awful seeing how hard she had to defend herself against all the racist jocks who thought calling her slurs and telling her to go back to Iran was funny.

"I'm from Canada you genius," she'd reply cooly before walking off completely unbothered.

"My mom didn't come to America as a refugee just for me to get offended by some fucking jock." Jackie was truly badass and full of stories.

Crystal could tell that Gigi agreed if the two even with them being complete opposites were so well put together.

"Well, have fun studying," Crystal replied sweetly as always before they managed to slip past the teachers and get into Gigi's black BMW.

Oh we will.

— *.✧

Studying. Studying with Jackie.

"Fucking christ," Gigi moaned as she tightly tugged at Jackie's hair feeling her partner's lips beginning to slip down to her bare stomach.

Well that was a lie.

Three months. Gigi couldn't possibly judge every story and rumour she heard of her boyfriend having sex with other girls at school when not only was the blonde doing the exact same thing but she was doing it with a woman .

Doing this routine with Jackie almost every single night because their parents were almost always gone for work or had late night shifts worked out wonderfully since her mother wanted her to have company while they were traveling constantly.

"Of course your friend can sleep over!"

Friend.

It was 1989. The AIDS crisis horrified everyone even those who hadn't been affected and being out and proud and waving her flag around was not a good idea. It was the worst idea.

Jackie, who was probably the most tolerant person she had ever met, was also scared to come out for multiple reasons though she sighted her cultural background as the main issue.

Gigi didn't even dare make a reference to it with her father still finding it funny to say slurs in her house and out in public shitting on his own masculinity. She'd be a dead girl walking if any of this ever got out.

But god kissing Jackie was ethereal.

"You're beautiful Gigi," she whispered as their lips met for the third time, both of them completely in heaven as they made out on her bed with both of their shirts already discarded on the floor.

"This was so much better than any party," she whispered against her skin as she caressed Jackie's cheek with her thumb. Gigi biting down on her lip as she held back a moan feeling the Persian bite down on her neck.

She was intoxicated every minute they had sex, every time they'd sneak out at lunch or from their individual activities at school and make out in Gigi's car with the air conditioning and radio blasting.

Boys were completely and utterly overrated.

Having sex with a woman was liberating despite the time period they were living through.

It was beautiful, it was the most intimate thing Gigi would ever experience and it only helped that Jackie was the most attractive woman she'd ever laid eyes on.

No one would ever compare to those dark brown eyes and the long, curly black hair that fell all the way down to her hips.

That soft smile and chuckle whenever Gigi would hold her hand or kiss her cheeks while they made out or shared a cigarette in her car.

Every hiss, moan, breath—everything about Jackie was utterly irresistible.

"You're heaven," Gigi breathed out panting as their lips parted, Jackie gently slipped off her lover's skirt as the two of them continued to kiss.

I'm in some deep trouble with this.

"How's your boyfriend," Jackie giggled against her earlobe as Gigi gasped, surprised that the Persian would even make a shady comment especially regarding her relationship status.

It was an odd turn on.

"That was shady," she breathed out with a moan feeling herself completely melt in the warmth building around their bodies. "He's at the party that I refused to go to."

Jackie gave a firm nod before opening her mouth to speak again, "You ever going to actually break up with that prick?" She asked quietly with their hands mangled in each other's hair.

Gigi rolled her eyes, not wanting to think about her stupid boy toy when she had Jackie about to frivolously pound her in the ground for the fourth night in a row.

"Gigi?"

She definitely seemed a bit pushy on the subject of her cheating though Gigi grabbed her wrists and kissed her hard. Jackie couldn't be mad they were kissing again even if it was absolutely a cheap stunt to shut her up.

We're not talking about this right now. The message was loud and clear to the Persian who decided to drop all mentions if it for now.

Fine. You win.

— *.✧

Gigi dragged long on her cigarette, puffing out the smoke as Jackie opened her bedroom window coughing. "This is a daily occurrence I'm noticing, do you always smoke after sex?"

The blonde stared at her lover who was still completely nude, the senior hummed along to the Madonna single that played in the background from her glittery, pink radio.

"If you're gonna stare at me you shouldn't make it so obvious you know," she spoke with a smirk across her lips as she turned towards Gigi who flushed. Jackie pulled the covers over herself as she let her head rest on the blonde's chest.

They closed their eyes and sang along quietly to the music that bounced around the walls of her bedroom as the Persian took a heavy breath.

"I'm in love with you Gigi…."

Gigi crushed her cigarette in the ashtray right on her table, frantically panicking on how exactly to explain that the idea of them being any more open was an awful idea.

"Jackie…"

"I know, I know, I'm ridiculous and out of mind for ever thinking that you'd love me back and would ever be out and proud with me," Jackie began before the shorter woman held her hands on her shoulders, kissing her so she'd stop talking once again.

The Persian chuckled admitting that it was a pretty effective method.

"Loving you is easy Jackie, accepting it is the hard part," Gigi admitted with silence building in the air as she continued on about how right now wasn't the time for them to be open and how everything was working against their favour and their life.

"I know."

"I know you know it's just—" Gigi shrugged, getting angrier and angrier that they even had to be forced to keep their love a secret as if they were Romeo and Juliet or some star crossed lover bullshit she had read in her literature class from junior year.

"I love you but I can't break up with anyone now, everyone knows we're friends and Crystal is already suspicious of everything we do."

"Crystal would never call us out, she's not one to talk either when she and Jaida make out after every guard practice," Jackie laughed admitting something that Gigi sure hadn't known about her best friend.

"Wait, she what?!"

"My lips are sealed, Jaida is my best friend and my secretary." The Persian laughed as she stuck her tongue out, Gigi immediately wrapping her arms around her and locking lips.

That's definitely going to be a phone call with Crystal later.

Euphoric.

"You still taste like cigarettes," Jackie coughed dramatically before Gigi pressed a finger to her lips with a suggestive grin, admitting that Jackie still tasted like everything that had happened in the last ten minutes.

"You're much more erotic than I expected."

"I know, I'm truly incredible baby."

Half an hour passed before Jackie began to drift away and sleep, the two of them making sure to at least put some clothes on in case her mother was to randomly come home.

Gigi sighed, not being able to fall asleep as easy as her lover.

Everything in Jackie's life was planned out: she had every credit, every club, every possible letter of recommendation and was just waiting to get those acceptance letters to Havard or Stanford or some elite college to go and study Political Science.

Gigi was a head cheerleader, barely passing her classes and enjoying life on a whim.

She'd never wanted something or someone for that matter so badly, so purely. This felt like some kind of high school romance that was supposed to burn out in a month or two.

I want Jackie forever.

Shit.

— *.✧

"You doing alright?" Crystal asked the next morning as Gigi nodded, wearing a longer dress than usual to mask all the hickies and bruises that had shown up over night from Jackie's consistent biting.

"How was the party?"

The guard captain sighed, admitting it was just a lot of pills, marijuana and cheap alcohol. She sounded even more upset about the fact that everyone there was almost exclusively a jock or the freshmen who were related to them.

"Told you we could've just done drugs in my car."

Crystal slapped her shoulder as the two of them passed Jackie who gave a wave and said good morning to the both of them before giving Gigi a distinct stare.

The blonde giggled to herself knowing exactly what that stare meant. It had become an entire language with dozens of codes and fabrication written underneath the staring and glances.

Your car. Five minutes.

"I'll talk to you later," she yelled as she took a detour down the staircase as Crystal was left standing, utterly confused.

"Okay?"

It indeed took only five minutes for Gigi to run past all of her fellow cheer team in the locker room, say hello and make another sharp turn out the door before exploring the parking lot trying to remember where she had even parked her car this morning.

Gigi unlocked the car immediately upon seeing Jackie already leaning up against the passenger side door.

"In the car," were the only words that left her lips as Jackie followed her instructions with subtle glances to make sure no one was watching them as Gigi locked the door and immediately threw her keys to the backseat, grabbing Jackie by her collar and kissing her heavily.

There wasn't much time to respond but once again the cacophony of voices in her head yelling how wrong it was seemed to completely disintegrate the moment they began to kiss.

"Someone's in a mood," Jackie said breathlessly as they seperated, falling back into the seats as Gigi adjusted her top, trying not to wrinkle it too much.

"You're the one who wanted to meet me!"

"I didn't want to make out with you!"

The blonde cocked a brow, crossing her arms as she turned down the radio and let Jackie have her turn on the soapbox.

"Go ahead," Gigi grinned, completely interested with what Jackie possibly would want to speak about. "You have my full attention baby."

The Persian sighed as she lifted up her shirt, Gigi completely flustered at first thinking that they were actually about to attempt intercourse in the front seat of her BMW though it was completely different than what she expected.

She gasped seeing the various marks across her stomach and hip, her finger gently dragging past them in horror.

This certainly wasn't from them sleeping together last night, it looked far too painful and too new of a wound.

"Guess who Gigi."

Gigi shook her head furiously, refusing to believe her boyfriend was that much of an asshole. "He didn't," the blonde mumbled completely in awe.

"He did. Jaida sent him packing though, him and his stupid friend. She ran after them for a solid hallway or two."

I missed all of this because I decided to skip first and second period to get coffee.

"What even happened?"

Jackie looked at her, frowning as she still managed to keep her composure undeniably well. "Gigi I think it's now a bit too suspicious that you're skipping parties in favour to get good grades on tests."

"But it's a valid excuse!"

"Almost every day for three months?"

"It's good sex!" Gigi blurted out not knowing what else to say in response to her partner.

Jackie adjusted her shirt as she spoke seriously, trying to make sure that Gigi knew that this entire relationship was a stalemate.

"Either we need to be twice as secretive so no one else gets suspicious or has any more violent ideas or we need to stop completely Gigi."

The blonde held her hand tightly, whispering how badly she needed Jackie in her life and how badly she was going to beat up her boyfriend after this conversation was over.

"Gigi, be smart about this, do not try to rope your emotions into this conversation," Jackie snapped, Gigi immediately looking taken a back as she silently sat against the driver seat letting the Persian finish.

"I love you badly Gigi, I've never loved anyone so much in my life and probably never will but let's be smart about this for a minute. We're seniors, we're both graduating and have completely different paths planned."

Jackie took a breath, "Are you willing to be with me despite the fact everything for people like us right now is utterly awful?"

Gigi nodded, not even taking two seconds to think about the answer to that question.

"I want you and only you."

"Promise?" Jackie held out her pinky, Gigi snickered though the Persian seemed completely adamant about the gesture.

"I promise."

— *.✧

Promises are a curse.

Of course the minute they promised to make it work it all fell apart.

There's only so many nights and weeks they could've gone without being caught.

One stupid night lead to lots of whiskey, a few cigarettes, their clothes off and more sex expect this time her father was home.

Shit.

Gigi wasn't sure what to expect besides Jackie being almost thrown out of her window and the blonde having to watch the entire thing play out before her.

Tears, a lot of them as her father was screaming and completely shattered at the fact his only daughter was attracted to women.

Being an awful human being or failing school were not on top of the "things to be disappointed in" pyramid of life. Nope, it was instead that she was in love with another woman.

"If you saw how she treated me you'd give me every blessing you had and an apology," was the only thing Gigi muttered at the table the next day. Her hair still messy, her father beyond the realm of anger and her car keys taken away of course.

They agreed to not speak to her mother about this. This was purely a one time thing and a mistake her father convinced her.  

"Can't you see that times are changing?" Gigi yelled, slamming her glass down so firmly she was shocked it didn't shatter on impact. "Is it because she's Iranian? Is it because you don't want me to be gay and hurt and outcasted by the world?"

No answer.

"You're too young to understand."

"I am about to go to college, I know exactly what I'm saying."

Gigi had never felt such a cold and depressing tension hanging above the air. She ate the rest of her breakfast in silence before attempting to call Crystal and explain what had happened when her father was out of sight and in their backyard.

"We're in love Crystal, this isn't just some stupid movie fantasy," she attempted to explain through tears as her best friend offered to come over or atleast give her a ride to Jackie's apartment.

"Leave in ten minutes, I'll meet you outside."

— *.✧

Back to square one they were.

The crying and emotional reaction was enough to tug at Jackie's heart and let her stay the night and for them to have sex again.

Now instead of her house all night it was all about rigorous planning and trying to make sure that them being together didn't circulate around school the final months they had together.

Absolutely no hanging out in school, no more glances, no more sneaking to football games just to see Gigi and make out behind the bleachers; it was a sacrifice but was well worth it for safety.

No boyfriend was the only positive outcome of this entire mess.

"You ever wanna run away?"

Jackie cocked a brow, looking ridiculously worried toward the statement the minute it left Gigi's mouth. Their fingers tangled in each other's hair as they had been laying in Jackie's bed the entire morning, fully clothed but completely horny.

"Is this a question or a proposal?"

Gigi sat up on the bed, running a hand through her own hair as she sighed heavily wondering if this was even a concept worth exploring.

"What if we just run away Jackie?"

The Persian already up and sitting next to her, rubbing her shoulders as she spoke about her plan and how she had dreamt of it last night.

"We never have to hear our parents whining or bitching about our relationship, we can be open, we can have a life together—" Jackie shook her head in desperation.

"No… Gigi, please think about this."

"It's almost the year 1990! Things will start changing Jackie, I just want to be with you and love you and not be afraid to shout it in the streets," the blonde began to go off on another rant as Jackie returned the sentiment by kissing her lips, making sure she'd stop talking for a minute or two.

"That's not fair, you stole my method."

The Persian cackled, pressing her lips to her forehead, completely amused as they decided to drop the conversation and instead get up to eat and try to get Gigi's mind off of this entire idea and situation laid out before her.

"We'll figure it out when the time comes."

— *.✧

Time.

There's not enough time .

There never will be. Life was truly just one giant hourglass filled with sand and expectations.

Sitting at an almost three hour long graduation was absolutely a waste.

Gigi is utterly hypnotized as her eyes only stare up at Jackie giving a final speech as valedictorian of the senior graduating class.

It's beautiful to watch, truthfully.

To see Jackie completely telling her story to so many parents and students, some of which had consistently harassed her and wished she'd been beat up harder by Gigi's ex boyfriend.

Her words were smooth and crisp and she had the ability to truly make anyone cry and deliver a message, to reconsider arranging their entire life around and starting fresh and clean.

It was powerful.

Crystal was in mopping sobs the minute Jackie even started and she only got louder and louder as the speech went on, Jaida and Gigi holding her hand on each side trying to calm her down.

"Please stop crying," Gigi grinded through her teeth as she adjusted her cap and gown.

Occasionally Gigi's eyes would water but all in all it was a beautiful speech, the only one the blonde would ever want to listen and analyze.

I could write an entire thesis on her.

And her thighs.

They clapped before she stepped down, shaking hands with the principal as she walked back to her seat, she strolled past the blonde quickly giving a loving glance towards her direction.

Crystal was completely broken the minute they tossed their hats in the air and the entire room burst into cheers, Gigi screamed in happiness once she realized that everything about high school was over and done for.

I managed to survive senior year.

Jaida, Crystal and Gigi all headed for the bleachers knowing that there had to be one last smoke and one last cheer to the three of them who had become extremely close once Gigi's best friend decided to live her life truthfully and admit she had been seeing Jaida for almost a month.

"Am I allowed to join in?" A familiar voice commented softly as they sat at the top step of the bleachers, looking out at the sunset and the view of their high school one last time.

Jaida laughed, cheering for her friend and their senior president as Gigi smiled and nodded. Her feet gently tapping the bleacher space right next to her that could be filled up.

"Absolutely," Gigi spoke with a grin as Jackie took off her cap and heels, walking barefooted across the dirty, old steps with not a single care in the world.

Gigi was impressed.

The minute the stars started to come out was when Jaida and Crystal realized they had to leave, wishing them a goodbye as they hugged with not a single tear shed knowing tomorrow they would all celebrate at Jaida's house.

Jackie and Gigi were left. Alone.

Two women, making out under the night sky attempting not to lose balance on the creaky bleachers as they kissed in public even if nobody was watching.

How romantic.

"You're perfect," Gigi spoke in fragments as they kissed, Jackie taking in all of the blonde she could before she had to move away to the east coast and go to Havard.

This couldn't possibly be the end of the story.

Jackie wasn't going to let their last moments be them sobbing and making out on their high school bleacher after everything they had gone through together.

"Runaway with me? Come to Massachusetts?"

The question.

Gigi felt like she couldn't breathe the minute Jackie suggested it. It felt like a stranger fever dream she wanted every part of.

"Are you serious or just joking around?"

"Serious. You run for the hills with me tomorrow after we see Jaida and Crystal."

Gigi's lips curled into a smile as she wrapped her arms around her lover's waist with a firm nod of the head.

"Absolutely."

[notfckincool]

DIRTY GIRL

CH 3 - NO POINTS NEEDED

Negan x Ana (OC)

A collection of short smutty stories. Strong sexual content.

Ana embarks on a casual and obviously filthy affair with Negan, accidentally falling for him, knowing he will never love her. Angst and kinkyfuckery.

WARNINGS : It’s Negan so expect swearing, violence and sexual content throughout. 

CHAPTER 3-NO POINTS NEEDED

Negan x Ana(OC)

Warnings: swearing, dirty talk, fingering, rough sex, spanking, Negan being Negan 

Summary: After a run in with the Saviors, Negan offers Ana a choice, soldier or wife.

["We just fuck, no points needed, you just need to be a little open minded and enthusiastic.. " 

_He raises his eyebrows with a sly smile, his tongue slipping between his lips again _

".. I get the feeling that wouldn't be a fucking problem for you"]

What? My mouth drops open. His eyes run over my lips.

"So let me get this straight" I sit forward resting my elbows on my knees, drink held casually in my hand

"You want me to be one of your wives, or one of your soldiers?

"Those are the options. You have a lot of fight in you, a lot of energy, I like that. Soldier or wife. It's entirely up to you of course. I'd never force anyone to be my wife, but you should know, I'm a very good fucking husband,.. and by that, I mean I'm very good at fucking." 

He laughs, adjusting the knife belt slung around his hips. I glance at his crotch, then quickly look away.

"Thanks, but I'm not really wife material" I smile and look into my glass

"Wife material? He chuckles

"You like to fuck right? He smirks "... I know you fucking do. Well, doll, I can take care of all your needs" he grins devilishly watching me as he takes a drink.

Sitting back into the sofa I raise the glass towards my lips

"All my needs? I smirk "That does sound tempting." 

I bite my lip as my eyes trail over his body, my eyes wander back down to the large bulge beneath the knife belt.

"ALL your fucking needs" 

He puts his glass on the table and rises from the sofa, removing his leather glove and tossing it aside as he walks towards me.

"I see you looking doll, see you squirming in your chair. I bet you're having all sorts of dirty fucking thoughts.. I know I am... Just tell me what you want doll."

He slowly unbuckles the knife belt, he watches me chewing on my lip as he removes it.

"Yeah I bet you're a real fucking dirty girl. I'd like to find out. There's a LOT of things I'd like to do with you."

He snaps the belt, my breathing quickens.

"Think of all the things we can do. All you have to do is be my wife. I just need to hear you say you'll be mine." he pauses "That you belong to me" 

"Wait.. What?" I slam the drink on the table shaking my head

"No. Fuck that. I can't do that. I won't just be another one of your wives."

"Really? The fuck? Doll, this is a sweet deal, take the fucking offer" 

I stand and turn to walk away. He grabs me firmly by the wrist. I frown and struggle but he keeps a tight hold

"I'm not just gonna sit around here in a pretty dress waiting for my turn. I won't be your prisoner, or your sex slave.. and stop calling me doll." I struggle again. "Get your fucking hands off me" 

He releases me and I head for the door. He's right behind me and as I reach for the handle he stops me, firmly putting his hand over mine.

"You won't be a prisoner. I'd like you to stay, but I said I won't force you, and I'm a man of my word. All I mean is I promise I'll take good fucking care of you. You know I would" 

He stands close behind me, gently stroking my hair from my neck. I tingle at his light touch. I feel his lips hover above my neck.

"I know you want me beautiful, have from the first time you saw me. Believe me the feeling is mutual."

I feel his breath on my neck, his lips on my skin, up towards my ear where his teeth pull gently on my ear lobe

"We can do all those things you've been fantasising about." 

He knows me alright, my imagination has been running riot. His deep voice is in my ear.

"I'll be good to you. I won't hurt you, well, not unless you want me to" 

I feel him smile against my neck before he places soft kisses on my skin. I smile to myself, and as he kisses at my neck I relax, involuntarily rolling my hips back onto him.

"Yeah, I know what you want. No point fucking pretending princess, you can't hide it from me, grinding up against me like that."

His hands move over mine, stroking gently up my arms, across my shoulders, caressing my neck. He lifts my hair, holding it in one hand, the other snakes around my throat. His teeth and lips graze teasingly over the back of my neck. Kisses turn to nibbles and he squeezes a little on my throat. A moan escapes me and I roll onto him again. He presses himself against me.

"You like that princess? My hand wrapped around your throat. I bet you like to play rough." 

He tugs at my hair, squeezes my throat harder, it jolts me and sends a wave of excitement through me.

Sliding his hand down from my neck, over my breast, he cups and squeezes, teasing my hardening nipple with his thumb and finger. He pinches hard and tugs as he bites on my neck, the grip on my hair tightening. I moan louder and his hand wanders down over my stomach.

"Yeah, I know what you want princess" 

His long fingers stroke across the skin above my waistband, deliberately taunting me as I squirm, desperately needing some friction. He unbuttons my jeans and slips his hand inside, passing his thumb gently over the fabric of my panties, slowly teasing me.

He bites and sucks at my neck as he slides his hand inside, up and down my folds.

"fuck, Princess you are so wet" 

He slowly, gently, circles my clit

"I've hardly even touched you yet" 

He bites harder on my neck as his fingers explore my pussy, slipping a long digit inside and slowly pumping, gradually gaining speed. He adds a second finger. His grip on my hair tightens, his bites become harder, his pace faster. My hips move rhythmically against him.

"Hmm, you're a bad girl rubbing up against me like that, making my dick hard" 

He pushes his growing erection against my ass, pins me against the door.

"You're thinking about my dick now right? Want to know if it's as big as everyone says. Goddamn fucking right it is."

He goes back to circling my clit, pressing against me I feel him hardening. I move my hips, backing up onto him, placing my palms against the door for support as I feel a warmth growing.

"Be a good girl, and I might fuck you with my big dick." 

I feel the heat building and spreading inside me.

"Would you like that princess? Would you like me to fuck you hard with my massive cock?"

He finds the perfect rhythm and pressure and hear my own panting as my climax approaches. "oh god" I start to tremble. He pulls firmly on my hair, jolting my head back a little

"I'm gonna need an answer. You want me to fuck you princess, I need to hear it" 

"Yes" 

"Yes what?" 

"I want you to fuck me" 

"That's what I fuckin thought" 

I shudder and buck

"That's a good girl." he says into my ear as I'm thrown over the edge. He presses down on my clit as I continue to orgasm, the feeling continuing to wash over me as I spasm.

As it starts to subside he releases my hair and I rest my forehead against the door. I hear a heavy clunk as his jacket hits the floor. He spins me around.

"Oh I haven't finished with you yet" he pulls my shirt up, throwing it aside

He's lit a fire deep within me, I look at him with eyes heavy with lust

"Good that's what I was counting on" I grab at his shirt, pulling and tugging, tearing it off him.

I move forwards grabbing him around the back of the head, lips crashing together in a bruising kiss, pushing him backwards away from the door and spinning us around until his back's against the wall.

Kissing him needily, violently, my hands hurry to his belt pulling at it wildly, then, at the fastening of his jeans, tugging them down with urgency. He steps out of them quickly, I push against him pinning him to the wall, kissing him roughly, grinding against his swollen cock.

He picks me up and heads to the bed throwing me down and hastily pulling off my jeans, his cock straining against the fabric of his boxers.

"You want this cock?" His hand goes inside his boxers as he strokes himself "You are gonna fuckin get it baby girl. I'm gonna fuck you so hard" his eyes darken

He pulls down the boxers. He wasn't lying, the rumours were true. Taking hold of my panties he rips them off and spreads my legs wide before crawling over me. He takes his massive throbbing cock in his hand, teasing my entrance, wetting the tip, and watches my reaction as he torments me further, sliding up and down my soaked folds, coating himself before lining himself up and slowly pushing into me. It takes my breath away. He looks down between us as he eases in, watching himself disappear inside me, stretching me, filling me up.

Dear God. I'm holding my breath. He gives me a moment to adjust before he withdraws and thrusts back into me.

"oh fuck" 

Slowly withdrawing then slamming back in. Every time it takes my breath away. Every time sending shock waves through my body as he hits me deep inside.

Over and over he slams into me, slowly building speed. I claw at his back as he gets faster putting my leg around his waist. I flip us over pinning his arms, wanting to set a pace of my own

"oh no you don't princess" 

He breaks his arms free and slaps my ass, easily flipping us back. He pins my arms down onto the bed and smirks down at me.

"I thought you were gonna behave?" 

"I thought you were gonna fuck me hard?" 

"You have no fuckin idea princess. You like it rough? I am gonna ruin that sweet pussy of yours" 

He slams into me again. I'm well and truly pinned as he builds speed, ruthlessly fucking me harder and faster.

Suddenly he releases my arms, withdrawing quickly.

"Turn over princess. Ass up, face down" 

I start to turn, he hurriedly flips me over, slapping my ass again. It throws me forward, makes me gasp, my mouth open my eyes closed. I love the sting, my head tips back as he rubs the burning skin.

"Again" I urge, and look back at him over my shoulder. "Harder" He smirks and bites his lip as his hand connects again. I moan loudly as he bends me down and swiftly enters me.

Holding my hips he fucks me hard and deep. When I think I can't take anymore he pulls me up by the hair, holding me roughly, massaging my clit as he pounds into me.

"oh god...I'm close.. dont stop" 

"That's my dirty girl" 

I am overwhelmed with pain and pleasure, the sound of our groans, and skin slapping, and I feel the heat within rapidly building again.

"That's it babygirl. I want to feel you cum all over me" he says through a clenched jaw

"Cum on my cock like the dirty girl you are. I want to hear you screaming my name" 

I feel myself shake and shudder

"oh god... Negan... Fuck" 

It hits me hard and fast, my back arching. I contract around him. He doesn't stop, fucking me through my orgasm as I shudder beneath him.

"fuck... princess"

He yanks on my hair and groans loudly as he spills his release into me.

Neither of us move for a while as we get our breath back. Gradually his grip lessens on my hair and he withdraws. Still shaking I flop onto the bed.

"Was that my punishment for being such a bad girl?" I chuckle

He lays beside me, the familiar smirk returning to his face.

"No princess, I haven't even started with your punishment yet. So.. Think you'll enjoy being my wife?" he smiles

I smile back at him.

"Well you were right. You did fuck me hard and give me what I needed"

"fuck yeah, I did."

"...but" I continue "**I also meant what I said... I can't be your wife... I just can't." **His smile disappears and his eyes narrow. I look away.

Silently he gets off the bed and dresses. He tosses my clothes to me, straps on the knife belt and picks up Lucille as he moves towards the door.

"Door Number 2 it is then. I'll have someone show you your room, you'll be reporting for duty in the morning" 

He disappears out the door slamming it behind him.

NEXT CHAPTER

DIRTY GIRL MASTERLIST

[laughingmagi]

STUDY:  John Constantine

APPEARANCE.

▸  Height: tall / short / average John is 5′11, occasionally cited as 6′0, but I prefer him being just shy of it because I like him kinda average because John is supposed to appear to be an everyman, if a very attractive one. 

▸ Are they okay with their height? Yeah he is, but if someone tries to lord their height over him, he might just roll his eyes.

▸ What’s their hair like? Generally portrayed as varying shades of blonde. Usually the very definition of tow headed. Some artists have drawn him with somewhat darker hair, but in a way that makes me think maybe they’re implying he’s a dirty blonde (eyyyy) or not been getting enough sun of late. He keeps it clipped short on the sides and longer on top. When he was younger, he wore it much longer and I’m very fond of the idea of him returning to that style as he gets older. 

▸ Spend a lot of time on their hair / grooming? Not really. Usually he’s a finger combing kind of guy and just let it do what it wants, although I will admit there’s a split between artists. Some draw him with very meticulously groomed hair, slicked back or carefully styled. Due to my fondness for particular artists, I tend toward the more tousled look on John.

▸ Care about their appearance / what others think? Okay, this is going to get a bit complicated. John doesn’t care what others think but he does care very much about his appearance (as a baseline, when he’s depressed or just in some other horrible situation, he doesn’t give a shit either way). He’s a con artist at the end of every day and is very aware of how he’s perceived.  I think this is why he stopped dressing in the punk style despite the face that he never truly lost the ethos. Counter-culture fashion has a very narrow place in mainstream society. You’re not only memorable but someone always has an opinion on what you’re wearing, and it’s rarely neutral. Nondescript clothing, a simple suit, as the relevant example, isn’t really going to get too much reaction, but at the same time, it’s welcome many more places. So to that degree, John is very particular and aware of what kind of image he projects, but also, he doesn’t care what people think about how he looks. Unless, of course, if he’s attracted to them and trying to hook up or date or whatever, but that’s more of a generalized concern than something truly notable.

PREFERENCES.

▸ Indoors or Outdoors: Indoors, more than likely, though he’s not opposed to being outdoors. I don’t really think it’s something he’s overly concerned with.

▸ Rain or Sunshine: Rain, mostly because it’s like his total aesthetic. 

▸ Forest or Beach:

God, I don’t know. Maybe the beach? Although there was that one bizarre fever dream issue that was a contemplation on pollution as John had this wild ass dream while he was sleeping on the beach. Fucked up shit has happened to him in forests though, sooooooo......N....neither?

▸ Precious metals or Gems?

Metal.

▸ Flowers or Perfumes:

Perfumes, I suppose, although he’s very specific about those too. He just doesn’t care for floral scents.

▸ Personality or Appearance:

Both, although if I had to be honest, I suppose appearance is slightly more important. Because like, for a shag or even a short term, casual relationship, he can deal with a shitty personality. That being said, it’s not like he has a very narrow preference when it comes to attraction. So I dunno. I guess I’m trying to say that he’s not some shallow asshole that only fucks pretty people regardless of their personality. It’s just you know. He’ll have sex with someone he doesn’t really like if he thinks they’re hot, but he’s not going to fall in love with them or even want to spend a lot of time with them that doesn’t involve sex. He’d probably hope they don’t talk very much before, during, or after sex...............................so okay, maybe a pretty person with an undesirable personality isn’t a good example. More like an attractive person that he finds boring or not terribly intellectually stimulating. So....yeah. Both.

▸ Alone or In a crowd:

Alone, but he’s very charming and he’s good at being social, but he’s more like. Alone in a crowd type of person.

▸ Order or Anarchy:

Anarchy !!!!!

Although I consider him an agent of balance, but there’s a certain amount of chaos to it because it’s not about doing anything but control the influence of either side. Magic and overall lot in life aside, John has a deep mistrust in authoritarianism and tends to subvert social norms. It’s not in his capacity to really understand stereotyping or particular social mores.

▸ Painful truths or White lies:

I would say white lies, because civility is built on lies, particularly the white ones. Yes, of course honesty is important to John, just as it is with anyone, but he’s keenly aware that brutal honesty isn’t always the best way to engender yourself to someone. Sometimes those small falsehoods are the necessary evils.

▸ Science or Magic:

Magic, naturally, but he’s not opposed to science and he’s not the sort of person to supplant scientific theory or fact with magical.

▸ Peace or Conflict:

Kinda gonna settle this in a grey area. John doesn’t care much for war and violence. Conflict as the difference of opinion or lifestyle isn’t something he’s opposed to however. Intellectual discourse gives rise to new ideas and ways of thinking. I think he equates peace as stagnation.

▸ Night or Day:

Night. Because magic nonsense and habit borne from insomnia.

▸ Dusk or Dawn:

Dawn, because symbolism and at the end of the day, John’s a bit of an old sap and idealist.

▸ Warmth or Cold:

Cold because his preferred attire isn’t exactly good in warm weather. God he must have been miserable in Louisiana......

▸ Many acquaintances or A few close friends:

A few close friends. Less people at risk.

▸ Reading or Playing a game:

Reading.

QUESTIONAIRE.

▸  Your muse’s bad habits? Lying, self-flagellation, forgetting to eat, chain smoking, isolation

▸  Lost anyone close to them? How it affects them? Preeeeeetttty much everyone he’s ever cared about or loved. It causes him to want to isolate and often he’ll avoid relationships. However, it never truly lasts because he’s very affected by loneliness.

▸  What are some fond memories they have? All roads lead to Ireland and the times he spent with Brennan and Kit. Likely time spent with Cheryl and Gemma as well

▸  Is it easy for them to kill? No...................................although he’s harder when it comes to causing indirect death, although it just kinda piles up as reasons to hate himself.

▸  What’s it like when they break down? Hooo boy. We talking a true, total breakdown or something more regular?  After Kit kicked him out, he literally ended up in the gutter trying to drink himself to death. However, that’s not a normal breakdown, although I suppose it’s really just a more extreme version. He drinks entirely too much, completely isolates, maybe gets into fights, and is just generally a self-destructive mess.

▸  Capable of trusting someone with their life? Yes.

▸ What’re they like when they’re in love? Love is good for him. He eats better, his worst habits are minimized, and he’s pretty passionate. Despite rumours or what people might think of him from his reputation for promiscuity and a string of exes, John is good at being faithful and even communicating his desires and what he wants from the relationship. He’s not afraid to be vulnerable with someone once they have all of his trust.

TAGGED BY: @strangcrdoctor Tagging: @stormweathered, @seidrborn, @youhavemyrespect, @cybervigilant, @twintailx, && you !!!!

[matsbarzal]

Stay - Mat Barzal

Notes: the request asked for some angst with a lil happiness at the end so voila!! hope you guys enjoy! I'm slowly and steadily getting through what I wanted to get through (aka its easter weekend and I have no life!!) also a warning before you read this, I do not whatsoever condone cheating! its all completely fake so please don’t take it as anything else.

Requested: Yes | No

Up Next: Mitch Marner or Noah Hanifin 

You could really only count on one hand how many times you had met the Islanders forward. Each time either being at a family function, or whatever dinner that Jacob invited you too, that Mat just so happened to also be going to. You couldn’t deny that there was an obvious attraction between the two of you, and it was incredibly hard to resist the subtle advances he was trying to throw at you while you stood beside his cousin, arms looped together with your boyfriend.

You knew it was terrible, silently lusting after your boyfriend’s cousin, but you couldn’t help it, especially right now. Jake and you had gotten into a huge fight a few weeks prior, to the point that you kicked him out of your shared apartment for the week, citing that you needed space and him staying there wasn’t going to help. The both of you reconciled, with you agreeing to come to his Grandmother’s for Easter dinner, a sentiment to how much his family loved you.

“So, (Y/N), our little Jakey over here was telling us you’re going to New York for a week next month, are you excited?” Looking up at the mention of your name, you politely nodded your head at Jake’s uncle.

“Yeah, it’s work-oriented so it’s not like I’m going to be able to have too much fun. They want me to check out a few lots, send them information on real estate agents so they can decide what they’re going to do about their New York office.”

A voice piped up from across the table, startling you from your internal thoughts, “Where are you staying?”

Turning to the sound of the voice, you watched Mat’s eyebrow quirk questioningly, waiting for an answer.

“I uh… haven’t figured it out yet, probably just a hotel close to a few sites or something.”

“You can stay with me, I have the room and you’re basically family, not gonna make you spend five grand on a hotel for a week.”

A few people at the table looked at Mat in shock, he never offered to let anyone else in the family stay at his apartment, claiming it was ‘too small’ and that not everyone would fit. He apparently also didn’t enjoy setting up the guest room, but that’s just a second-hand rumour.

“Aw, Mathew, that’s so sweet of you.” Their grandma gushed at his words, affectionately grinning at her superstar grandson.

“I don’t wanna impose and mess up your mumbo-jumbo, Mat, its okay.”

“No, no, I insist. I’ll rarely even be there.”

“This is obviously the kitchen, it’s free to use whenever you want, but I can’t promise that there’s any food or spices or anything. I don’t really eat at home that much.” Mat began walking you through the house, pointing out the rooms you were most likely to use and the cabinets that had anything you needed in them.

“My rooms right here, laundry rooms beside it, and the guest rooms just across the hall from both. The thermostats right there, I don’t turn it on unless it’s super cold, or hot as fuck, but if you wanna turn it on, be my guest.”

Walking behind the Islanders forward, you listened to every word he said, occasionally allowing your gaze to move to a specific part of him. His biceps, face, and your gaze was also drawn to his butt, an easy feat when you were walking right behind him.

“There’s a likely chance I won’t be here that much during the day, we usually have an early morning practice and then one of the boys and I will go out and get food, but I’ll let you know if I do just in case you’re hungry and want me to bring you something to eat.”

Shaking your head, you smiled at the man in front of you, “It’s okay, really. I probably won’t be here much anyways, and you’re already going above and beyond for me, no need to go any further.”

“Nah, if I didn’t wanna go above and beyond for you I wouldn’t. Don’t stress about it, but I do have a favour to ask in return.” Turning to you, he gestured for you to follow him to the kitchen, a bright flyer lying on top of the glass table.

“So, there’s this… team party, I guess you could call it. The guys don’t know you’re staying with me, nor do they know who you are… and I need a date. How do you feel about it? No one has to know you’re Jake’s girl, and I won’t tell Jake about it. I just don’t want the guys harping on my ass all night about how I never bring a date.”

Laughing at his words, you cut him off with a nod, “I’m down. Is it casual or formal?”

“Formal, you’ll most likely need a dress. I’ll pay for it if you don’t have one with you.”

“Well, it’s your lucky day, Mr. Barzal. I was supposed to meet up with a business partner for dinner tomorrow, so I just so happen to have a very classy dress in my bag.” You gestured to your luggage that was still lying by the front door, a wicked grin on your lips.

“Perfect, (Y/N).”

Spending the first three days in awkward silence whenever the two of you came near one another was not how you expected this trip to go. Truthfully, you didn’t know what to expect when you accepted Mat’s offer to stay at his apartment during your time in New York, but it definitely wasn’t the complete avoidance and awkward silence of one another.

On the inside, you knew it all stemmed from the attraction you both felt for each other, not wanting to overstep either persons boundaries, in the hopes that whatever feeling would go away. But, unsurprisingly, it didn’t.

“Do you want me to uh… make dinner tonight? I don’t have any meetings with agents or partners, and I know you don’t have a game?”

Mat turned to you in shock, not expecting the words that came out of your mouth, really, not expecting you to talk at all. “You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to, but you’re doing so much for me and I really haven’t done anything for you to make up for mooching off of you for a week.”

“Nah, you’re not Jake, you don’t mooch. You’re grateful about it, unlike that jackass.”

Raising an eyebrow at his words, he stood his ground, continuing to go on about why your boyfriend was a jackass, and why he was such a dick.

“Really, I don’t get why you’re dating him. Have you seen how the man dresses? He acts like he’s 45, not 21. It’s weird.”

Laughing, you tried to shake your head in denial at his words, but you couldn’t, knowing that there was no falseness to his rant. Jake really did dress like a 45 year old, which you usually didn’t care about because it truly wasn’t a big deal, but when Mat brought it up, it felt like it was.

“He’s a cool guy, I’ve known him for like… ever. It was kind of just expected that we’d get together, ya know?”

Reluctantly, the man in front of you nodded his head, choosing to change the topic of conversation after that. “So dinner?”

Dinner was a success; a line of conversation was easily picked up between the two of you as you chomped away at the veal parmigiana, Mat eagerly praising your cooking skills after every bite.

“I don’t mean to sound weird, but this feels and tastes like a fucking orgasm in my mouth.”

A small blush tinged your cheeks at his words, as you subconsciously rubbed your thighs together at the idea of an orgasm. You and Jake had been lacking in the sex department recently, with your relationship on the rocks and the fact that he was always ‘too tired’ to do anything. It didn’t help that the small noises coming out of Mat’ mouth every time he took a bite were slowly helping to turn you on.

When both of your plates were cleared, and the dishes washed, you were about to tell him that you were most likely going to bed until he interrupted your train of thought, “Did you wanna watch a movie with me? I’m not tired, and it’ll feel weird just watching a movie in the living room by myself.”

Contemplating his proposition, you nodded your head after a second, “Sure. I just have to do something real quick, and then I’ll meet you in the living room?”

Nodding his head in agreement, you walked towards the guest room with the intention of changing out of your current clothes and into more comfier, hopefully fluffier ones.

You shuffled through your clothes, pulling out a pair of fluffy pajamas and a long sleeve top. After pulling your shirt off your body, and unclipping your bra, the bedroom door slammed open to reveal a now-shocked looking Mat Barzal. You quickly covered your chest, the heat of your skin getting worse and worse with every passing second of silence.

Something was off about him. You couldn’t tell if it was the way he was now looking at you, or if it was the way he was slowly edging closer… and closer… and closer to you, until he was standing directly in front of you. You looked up at him, confusion evident on your face as you both stared at each other. Half a beat later and his lips were against yours, slowly moving, encouraging you to kiss him back. Your lips easily moved in sync, just as your brain started to rationalize what was going on, and when it did, you quickly pushed him away from you, a look of terror crossing your face.

“Oh my god.”

“Fuck. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

The tension between you two could be cut with a knife. It was obvious to anyone who was truly paying attention, both of you sitting a distance away from one another, barely any words spoken, and it was obvious by the lack of matching tie and dress, there was a bit of a miscommunication between the two.

“Where’d you two meet?” Looking towards the voice, you made eye contact with John Tavares, a questioning look in his eyes.

“Mutual friends.”

“At a party.”

Both statements were said at the same time, all the other people who were at the table looking at the two of you weirdly.

“We were introduced at a party by mutual friends.” You easily corrected the lies told by one another, most of the people there still not entirely believing you, but they left it alone, joining in on other conversations surrounding them.

You didn’t notice Mat’s hand move until it was placed on the inside of your knee, where it gently began to rub up and down, the friction bringing a shiver to your body. You chose not to question it, instead joining in on the conversation that John’s girlfriend was having with one of the other girls. When he realized you were ignoring him, Mat moved his hand up your thigh a little bit more, edging to the spot that you knew was getting wetter and wetter with every movement.

You quickly grabbed his hand, pulling him up alongside you and asking to be excused for a moment. You pulled him along to the lobby of the banquet center you were currently at, internally glaring at the man behind you.

When you were away from any nosy ears and eyes, you turned to the Rangers forward, “What the hell was that?”

“What was what?”

“Oh, I don’t know… maybe you casually sliding your hand up my god damn thigh?”

Smirking at you, Mat once again moved himself into your personal space, “Why does it matter? It’s not like it affects you or anything.”

“Maybe it does affect me, you jackass.”

“How so?” Bending down to whisper in your ear, Mat began, “Is it affecting you because you want me to fuck you? Maybe it’s because little Jakey is just that, little and boring? Or is it because you want me to do so many things to you, you can’t put them into words without having to spray yourself with holy water after? I know you know what I’m talking about, (Y/N). Don’t act like I’m an idiot.”

Pressing you against the wall, he gently nosed again your neck, pressing tiny kisses against the exposed skin as he let his words go down through your body. “Jesus, Mat.”

Before he could react, you were pressing your lips against his which he eagerly responded to. He shoved you harder against the wall, wedging a leg between your thighs which allowed you to grind down, small whimpers leaving your mouth at every grind.

“Let me take you home, let me show you what it means to get properly fucked, not selfishly fucked.”

You didn’t deny him, instead allowing him to drag you away and towards the car, any idea of repercussions being pushed to the back of your head.

[robotslenderman]

So hey, I realised I only told a couple of friends of how jury duty last year went, so I’ve copy-pasted (with minor editing) the shenanigans below. Content warning under the cut.

Content warning: the guy was a pedophile who tried to (keyword being “tried”) bait 13YOs into meeting up with him.

Having said that, I walked into this case expecting to be scarred for life and instead the whole thing was so ridiculous, the man was such a loser, the victims were so badass that the jury was like “this guy is a total joke.”

Especially after the fuckboy incident.

The trial ended up being pretty goddamn funny. Mostly thanks to the Crown Prosecutor, who had no fucks to give and was yelled at more than once by the judge for getting really sarcastic.

Here are things I wrote down over the course of jury duty:

The phrase, “Having sex with twelve-year-olds is overrated.”

“John* is now going to read about masturbation.”

That time we accidentally trapped two judges in a supply closet.

The random, partial handprint on the ceiling of the courtroom. Only one other juror ever saw it.

At one point I was exhausted and pretending to read from my folder and closed my eyes for a while. 

Afterwards, our jury officer went “ha ha ha I saw you but you were totally reading, right?”

“HA HA HA WHAT A COINCIDENCE YES I WAS!”

How awesome the victims are. Snips from the logs:

“Want to see a picture of my great penis?”

“What’s so great about it?”

“I love you.”

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

“I don’t.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not some Asian hooker!”

“I’m in love with you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Because you also said that to my sister!”

“I love both of you!”

“[Not amused]”

“Please block me, or I’ll keep wanting to talk to you. Thank you for helping me get over you, Nina*.”

The fact that the accused was trying really hard to be dodgy and creepy by convincing another victim to keep it secret. Meanwhile the victim was just as determined to bring him home and have him meet her family.

“I love you, Audrey*.”

“My name is Adriana*!”

Meanwhile, the face identity the police set up to catch the pedophile was as dumb as a post.

And the accused fell for it.

Then later spent half his time on the stand insisting the fake identity was so dumb that there’s no way he could possibly have thought she was really thirteen.

(No, really, he actually used that as a defence.)

One of the victims had the name of a Mass Effect character.

The “fuckboy” meme.

First conversation after being appointed to the jury, wondering if it’s too late to escape:

“What do you suppose we’d have to do to get kicked off the jury?”

“Come in wearing a badge saying ‘It’s Okay To Say No!’“

“OOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!”

Explanation: the marriage equality vote was going on at this time and the “No” campaign’s slogan was “It’s Okay To Say No [to same sex marriage]!”

One of the jurors is a middle eastern guy who grew out his stubble for a few days before the trial and glared at the barristers when they were rejecting jurors in the hope that they’d “think [he] looked like a terrorist” (his words) and get rid of him.

It didn’t work.

After he told us this, he said, “I should have grown a beard and put three plaits in it.”

Watching the slow decline of our next door neighbours’ collective mental health.

Waking up one morning to find they’d posted jury duty memes on their door.

“Waiting for the jury to come to a verdict” 

[Picture of a skeleton]

“Look at all the fucks I give” replaced with “look at all the counts we have to decide”

A picture of a group of old white guys in suits laughing their asses off, captioned with, “And then I said it’d only take fourteen weeks!”

They’ve been deliberating for two and a half months.

Every time one of my fellow jurors ran into them they came back wide-eyed and traumatised, convinced next door had totally lost it.

“Ha ha ha, you must be new here.”

Next door’s jurors often looked over their shoulder and squinted at us suspiciously if we happened to glance in their direction when they went into their room.

Rumour has it that they’d lost it so much they’d become obnoxiously perky, in that “I’m about to go insane” kind of way. I wasn’t sure about this, but later one Very Happily opened a door for me with a massive grin and a bit of eyetwitching, and... yeah, it’s totally true, they lost it.

There was also a rumour one of their walls was covered in mugshots, but I never got to see it because of aforementioned suspicious squinting and cagey behaviour.

Occasionally, between sessions, a member of the jury will, out of the blue, say, “Fuckboy” and have the entire room crack up.

“Fuckboy 2.0!”

Wincing a bit and thinking, “Man, the Defence is asking the accused some hard questions!” only for the CP to basically go “hold my beer” and totally lay into the guy.

I will never, ever in my life see anything as awesome as the Crown Prosecutor laying into a pedophile ever again. It’s over. I may as well keel over and die now. I’m amazed the accused didn’t crack because he held this guy’s balls to the fire for three days.

Ladies and gentlemen and distinguished guests, the fucking Crown Prosecutor:

“So your aim with these meetups isn’t to have sex with underaged girls, but simply to get them to agree to meet you?”

“Yes.”

“... That’s it?"

“It’s a hobby.”

“Have you considered stamp collecting?” [Gets chewed out by the judge.]

“So the pinnacle of your sexual satisfaction is when they agree to meet, is that correct?”

“Yes. At my age, I don’t need anything more.”

[Vaguely smug] “Well, here we have Jane Doe* agreeing to meet up with you. That’s the pinnacle of your sexual satisfaction, that’s all you want from this conversation, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Great! Let’s have a cigarette!”

“In this chat log, we clearly see that this woman has claimed to be fifteen years old, and you’re now telling the jury you think she was lying. Why?”

“She’s in Rwanda, and claiming to have dated many white men. That’s not possible because I’ve been to Rwanda, there’s barely any white men like me there."

“So you must be hot property in Rwanda, huh?”

[Slightly put out] “Well, actually, yes!”

The accused kept insisting that no, cybersex didn’t turn him on unless the other person was turned on, no really, honestly, truly, he would never be aroused unless they were too and this was all for his partners’ benefits! Really!

He kept doing this until the CP blurt out, “Oh for god’s sake, if you’re so damn nice, why don’t you open a charity?”

(The judge yelled at him again.)

Reading the following sentence out in a completely deadpan tone of voice, as if describing the weather: “I suggest to you that you wrote the phrase ‘I want to suck your clit and cum -- C-U-M -- inside you’ in order to obtain an erection.”

He often read out sexually explicit excerpts like this. It got even funnier every time there was a misspelling, because the CP would absolutely insist on pronouncing it exactly as it was misspelled and also spelling it out.

“The victim said she was ‘spechless.’ I think she meant ‘speechless.’“

As he read out excerpts where entire sentences were made out of internet slang, bad spelling and acronyms, you could visibly see him age.

Srsly the other jurors thought this guy was boring. Boring. What was wrong with them this guy is amazing.

Fuckboy

The deadpan, srs bsnss dry humour of the Crown Prosecutor was only made even funnier by the contrast with his counterpart (the Defence Lawyer) being flamboyant and found of flourishing his cape every time he sits down.

The jury naming the DL “Happy Jumps” because he liked to spring out of his seat every time he was addressed and, when standing, would never stop smiling. Then when he sat down again cue the cape flourish!

(Even funnier because every single moment he wasn’t standing up he knew perfectly well his client was screwed and his face reflected it.)

I Would Now!!!! :)))) Like To Address The Jury!!!! :)))) To Inform Them :)))) That I, Happy Jumps, :))))) Speak Like This :)))) As If I'm Capitalising Every. Word. I Say. :)))) Complete with lots of. Hand. Gestures. :))))) And Emphasizing Every Other Word :)))) And Pausing. Inexplicably. In The Middle Of My. Sentences. :)))) Just So I Can :)))) Smile At The Jury :))))

He talks exACTLY LIKE MY FUCKGING DAD DOES WHAT THE FCUK

Except for the part he introduced himself to us and at one point said, “As the court case climaxes, I will -- wait, advances, I MEANT ADVANCES.”

The jurors naming one of Happy Jumps’ cronies “Benny” because of how much he looked like Ben Affleck.

At one point Benny got inexplicably banished to the public gallery.

It’s okay, he was invited back to the bar table later.

The moment Happy Jumps officially doomed his own client to never being taken seriously by the jury again:

“So, your screenname here is written as JohnDoefb*. John Doe* is your name, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“What does ‘fb’ stand for?”

[Flinches]

“?”

[Incoherent mumbling]

“Could you please repeat that louder?”

“...”

“...”

“... ‘Fuckboy.’“

The entire jury lost their shit.

(Very, very quietly.)

[faunahudson]

settle | self para

Who: Fauna Flanagan and Percy Flanagan with mentions of Rory Flanagan, Conor Flanagan and Sawyer Hudson Where: Belfast When: Feburary 2020 What: Fauna and Percy discuss his opinions on her future Warnings: emotional abuse, derogatory language, Percy Flanagan

It’s pouring with rain the night in February that her father comes to collect her from uni. It was an odd thing that in her adult life she’d begun to rely on lifts, since her and Rory had almost never been collected from school beyond primary. This had partially been because Percy had accused Mary of coddling them by doing so, but mostly because they liked the independence of walking or getting the bus. Fauna had always enjoyed the opportunity to read one of the many paperbacks that she kept crammed in the bottom of her bag. While Rory claimed to like the social aspect of the bus referring to him and Dobsy accusing Tired Pete in the year below of having a gay love affair with the bus driver because he always got off with an under twelves fare way into his teens. It also made people suspect them less of being Tories because their parents didn’t drive them, made them seem more normal. Fauna had liked it that way less reason for people to look at them, and with her headphones in she could ignore the commentary on her sex life that had always followed her back then.

It had been funny, appearing at uni in Belfast. Despite being the new girl things actually weren’t all that weird, she wasn’t ostracised the last way she had been during high school, everything was different in her new classes. In the weeks leading up to her first day there had been the bubble of fear that it would be like it had been in Dublin, that the videos would be found and the rumours would start up all over again. But instead she had been greeted warmly. After classes there were invites to pubs and cups of tea offered, everyone wanted to get to know Sawyer. A few people had even asked about Alexis, which they laughed about over their daily FaceTimes. How funny it was that people liked her when she didn’t really need them to anymore. This new warmth from people had meant that she seldom needed to walk or to take the bus because there was always someone’s car she could cram into, but on this particularly rainy Tuesday she’s been at the clinic later than she expected and there’s no bus for an hour. She knows Sawyer will be working, so she calls her home phone hoping to catch Maurie or her Ma to beg a lift and maybe some dinner. The phone rings twice, when it picks up she goes to talk immediately the way she usually would but she’s halted by.

“Fauna.” Her father says obviously having recognised her number, his tone not annoyed or accusatory for once which makes her immediately wonder if he’s drunk.

“Hey Da, is Maurie there?” She asks, hoping that if he is truly good and drunk he’ll just pass the phone over and she won’t have to prolong their interaction.

“No, her and your Ma went over to your grandparents.” He isn’t drunk, she can tell that by now. If he was drunk he would have put the phone down after delivering that message. “What did you need them for?” If he’d been any other person in the entire world she would have told him it was nothing and then tried to rummage around in her bag for enough change for a cab into town. But she knew if she told him that it was nothing then it would start a fight where he’d demand to know what she was hiding from him, and her feet ached too much for that.

“Oh I was just gonna try and beg a lift from the clinic, scran something from Ma. You know how I am.” She says, though it’s not true. He barely knows her at all. There’s a pause, which lasts longer in her head than it probably did in real life because she’s so fucking cold.

“I’ll pick you up, we’ll go for a pint.” Those were the last words that she expected to come out of his mouth, and she blinks in surprise.

“Why?” She asks before she stop herself, it’s always a terrible idea to question Percy and her heart sinks as soon as she says it. That’s always the problem with living with someone who you can completely be herself with, she forgets that she has to put her guard back up with other people.

“Because you need a fucking lift and I’m the only one in, god it’s not complicated Fauna Eloise.. sometimes I wonder what they teach you up there because it’s not bloody common sense.” Percy snaps.

“Sorry Da.. you’ve just never picked me up before.” Fauna responds, trying to mollify him. “Thanks though.” She adds, he’s not actually punished her since that time at parents week but she doesn’t really want to go through it again.

“Text me the address.” He says, and honestly even though she’s sure she’ll probably live to regret it right now she’s just grateful to think about getting out of the cold. A pint, is a pint after all. Though Percy hadn’t done anything particularly heinous since Sawyer punched Harold at new years, so she supposed she was about due for him to do something to remind her why she hated him so much.

Percy has brought his favourite Porsche coupe and it arrives a lot sooner than Fauna thought it would. She’d almost expected he’d keep her waiting, to punish her for questioning his motives. She dashes through the rain and slips into the front seat, to find Percy listening to the rugby. “Thanks for the lift Da, it’s vile outside.” The weather is usually a pretty safe topic, Percy hates the rain. There’s a brief conversation about the state of the roads, and what she was doing at the clinic before he looks at her and says.

“You can drive can’t you? Why don’t you have a car?” Fauna has to bite her lip hard to keep from laughing at this question. God he really didn’t have any idea what life was like did he? As if her and Sawyer could think about running a car when all they had to live on was the few shifts that she could take at the ER, his barely minimum wage earnings at the pub and what was left of her savings. They could barely afford groceries some weeks, and she’d been shoving the council tax bills underneath the freezer until Maurie had insisted that they take an envelope of ‘Christmas money’ to get rid of them.

“Yeah I can drive, you gave me a lesson once remember?” She reminds him. That was probably the last time that he’d volunteered to spend time with her that wasn’t to give her a bollocking. The lesson hadn’t been terrible to be honest, mostly because Percy liked feeling in control and like he was the smarter one of the two and Fauna didn’t mind learning when she thought the skill was useful. “Canne afford a car though, don’t really need one anyway I only really go to uni and to the pub. Sawyer borrows Glens car sometimes.. if we’re gonna go visit Nana or something.”

He grunts in recognition of the lesson. “You’d have more than enough money if you lived at home.” That’s the second time that evening that he’s stunned her to silence, and so she just stares at him like a fish. Was he really suggesting that she should move home?

“I mean.. I guess. But me and Sawyer are happy where we are I think. It’s nice to have a place of our own, weren’t really supposed to live together at school. ” She responds eventually, she wants to ask him why she would ever want to move home when he’d all but shoved them out of the door when they’d lived there for the month after Ohio. “Besides my single is a bit small for both of us. Sawyers a big lad.”

“Hm.” Is all her father replies it’s not like she expected him to laugh, she doesn’t think he’s ever laughed at one of her jokes but she does have to wonder where he’s going with all this. Her hands fidget in her lap as she waits for the penny to drop but he doesn’t press her on the topic. After a brief silence they pull up to one of the fancy country restaurants that Percy loves where the prices make her teeth hurt. She’s been uncomfortable with this kind of thing since she was a little girl who wore her wellie boots to church. As a kid she used to say she wasn’t hungry anymore and she didn’t want to go inside, which would usually cause him to call her ungrateful and all but yank her from the car while Rory wailed that he wanted Mcdonalds. Even now as an adult she wants to tell him that she’s not dressed for this kind of pint, and that she still stinks of the clinic. But again she knows that it’s not worth fighting over so she pulls the hood of her coat up and trudges with him inside. 

Percy knows the girl on the door, and he speaks to her in an odd charming voice that Fauna knew he had but had never experienced first-hand. She thinks about this version of her father occasionally though, when she’s wondering how Maurie or her Ma ever ended up with him. It’s this charming Dominant they thought they were getting claimed by, not the bad-tempered man who can never be wrong, that ended up raising their kids. They’re shown to a table, and handed expensive looking leather bound menus. Fauna almost doesn’t want to open the thing, but her stomach is growling so she scans the print for the cheapest thing on the menu.

“It’s on me.” Percy says as if reading her mind. It’s early in the dinner for him to declare this, one of his favourite games when he brought her and Sawyer out was always to order and then ask them to pay at the end of the meal. Watching them try to scrap around for enough money to cover the extortionate tab, before the waitress told them that Mr Flanagan had already paid. It was the kind of humiliating mind game that Percy specialised in, always reminding them that they relied on him, that they needed him. Fauna considers asking him whether or not he’s sure he wants to pay but that’s another question so instead she says.

“Thank you very much Da, you didn’t have to bring me out here. I’d have taken a half eaten bag of crisps.” She jokes, her stomach rumbling as her eyes scan over the options. While she’s not a fan of fancy places, she is looking forward to eating something that she didn’t make in that one pot that never seemed to have quite lost the burned crust that she’d created when Sawyer had distracted her while she was trying to make red wine gravy.

“I know, you’ve always been willing to eat any old shit.. Take shit from everyone. You shouldn’t settle though, not about food and not in your life Fauna.” Percy says, and Fauna is starting to wonder if this is all about Sawyer somehow. Percy had been awfully nice to Sawyer since the incident at new years and she now had a creeping suspicion that he’d just been biding his time, lulling them into a false sense of security.

“I mean I actually do just really like cheap food to be honest with you Da, I really enjoyed the American preoccupation with junk food while I was there. As for everything else, I don’t really think I’m settling. I thought I was doing pretty well to be honest, I left a school that I didn’t think was gonna give me a fair shot, I’m studying to be a doctor at the best school around and I’ve got an amazing boyfriend.. what more could I want?”

“You live in a pokey one bedroom flat and you can’t afford a car, you and Sawyer should be thinking about a house of your own.” Percy declares, and honestly Fauna is just glad that Sawyer was included in whatever weird fucking conversation they were about to have. 

“I mean once I’m qualified Da.. we’ll work on a claim and then we can start to think about getting a house and stuff. But I’m in med school right now, that’s you know.. expensive.” She wants to mention her trust fund, because it would solve every single problem that he keeps talking about. But she’d rather try to work out where he’s going with all this first. 

The waitress arrives at that point, and Fauna hasn’t even really thought about what she wants though she decides to use this to her advantage. “Can you order for me Da? You know what’s good here better than me” Percy actually almost cracks a surprised smile at this, letting a Dominant order for you is good manners in his book. Fauna has never been opposed to this kind of power exchange when it’s consensual, though usually not with her father. But she knows that he thinks she’s a terrible submissive, that she’s not willing to follow any kind of rules so little gestures like this can occasionally help with keeping him in a good mood. He orders her something with goats cheese that Maurie apparently likes and a regular pint. 

“I know you think I’m some kind of monster, because I won’t just let you and your brother waste your lives. And you act like I’m a cunt because Ive always tried to stop you from parading yourself around like a whore and acting like a nasty little brat.” Percy says, and Fauna takes a long drink of the pint that’s just been put in front of her. Vodka would have been better. Just when she was thinking this was going well. “But I push you because I know you can have more, and because I always wanted you to find a decent claim. Unlike your moron of a twin, I always knew you had potential. You’re decent looking like your mother, and nobody would ever shut up about how clever you were even when you were a kid. Though it was always like pulling teeth getting you to show it. Obviously there was no chance of you going into the business because you’ve always been submissive and overly emotional.. but I pushed you to do what you were good at.” Fauna wants to say that yelling abuse and emotional manipulation go a little further than ‘pushing’ and that if he really wanted to push her he could have offered to help with medical school but she holds her tongue. “I’ve always been trying to teach you not to be a chump and to be able to stand on your own two feet like I had to. Nobody gave me a hand out.” 

In a world where Percy wasn’t the worst person on the planet , Fauna might have spoken about him with pride. He was self made after all, his friends were always clapping him on the back and talking about his clever investments outside of the business. But he’d soured every page of his biography with his actions, and left her uninterested in knowing how he made the money that he so loved to hold over her and Rorys heads. The money that he used to manipulate her mother and Maurie into submission, and literally the only thing that made him any difference from the drunks that he sneered at on a Saturday night. 

“You’ve been making improvements though I’ve noticed, since our talk in Ohio. You’ve been more like a submissive should be, less crass, not dragging yourself out of bars like a tramp. Minding your manners.” Percy says, and Fauna raises an eyebrow. “And New Year reminded me something.. that I’ve been too hard on you particularly in a way. I always lump you and Rory in together because everyone else does. Which was never good for you, you don’t want people thinking you're a layabout junkie like him. I gave you the same treatment because I thought you needed the same push to succeed. But you’re a submissive and so I shouldn’t expect you to be able to do things for yourself. You’re supposed to be weak, you should be obedient.” In her mind Fauna punches him square in the jaw, and she stays visualising that as the waitress puts something that smells delicious in front of her. “But when the Yank fucking battered Harold, I realised that getting you under control was about finding you the right Dominant and shaping him. At first I thought the Hudson boy was a total waste of fucking air since he’s a skint drifter, with no decent family to speak of, American and he seemed like a pansy. But then I realised he’s got balls, and he seems to have enough of a grip on you that you’re no longer spreading your legs for anything that breathes.”

There’s a part of Fauna that feels some sort of twisted pride that her father is starting to approve of Sawyer, the words that are coming out of his mouth in many ways disgust her. But that stupid little girl who just wouldn’t give up hope that her Dad would someday be proud of her was jumping up and down that her Dad thought Sawyer could be a good match for her. 

“I am committed to Sawyer.” She confirms for the millionth time, always feeling a little sick when he brought up the idea that she might have sex with anyone else. “And he’s a really, really good Dominant.”

“Hm.” Percy responds as he tucks into his steak. “It’s his future I’m interested in, like I said you two can’t spend your life in that dirty little flat. You need to be looking ahead, and I mean to help with that. You need to keep focusing on uni obviously, and on being a decent submissive. But I can help give him a push in the right direction.”

Fauna has no idea how to respond to this decision making process, because on one hand she wants to try and shield Sawyer from everything that comes along with having Percys attention. But if Percy warming up to Sawyer meant that he might relax on his one strike and you're out policy, then it would help them both sleep a little easier at night. So she doesn’t really say anything for the rest of dinner, he makes a cruel remark about her being greedy when she wants to order dessert, and takes several very underhanded digs at how much Rorys rehab costs which she can’t ignore and has to bite back on. But it’s probably the longest they’ve ever been alone in a very long time. 

When he drops her off back at her apartment he reaches into his wallet, and pulls out a wad of twenties. “Buy yourself a bottle of decent booze.” He instructs. “You should be able to serve something that’s not shite when you have people over.” She has no intention of using the money for that, but she thanks him all the same and gets out of the car without feeling totally like shit for once. Which in turn makes her feel guilty, like she was betraying herself and Rory somehow for not totally hating every second that she spent with Percy. For letting him get away with at least half of what he’d said, Rory would never have sat there passively while he insulted the flat that her and Sawyer worked hard to afford and Sawyers parents who were good hard working people. Yet despite all that he’d said, Fauna considered the meeting to have gone well, and she just didn’t know if that made her a bad person or not. 

Glancing up at the apartment building she could see a light on, and that familiar relief of knowing that she could talk to Sawyer about what was worrying her spread over her body. So without agonising further, she punched in the key code and disappeared out of the rain. Leaving what she could of her guilt and unease behind her. 

[twelfthdyke]

famous falsettos au

prepare yourself for farfetched concepts and my lack of showbiz knowledge

whizzer and cordelia are famous broadway/stage actors

everyone thinks they’re dating and they go along with it while never explicitly saying it

they are the two gayest people alive literally how

marvin is a “proper actor” as he calls it, meaning he does tv and film acting

marvin is, of course, an acting elitist. “ugh… broadway?”

can’t believe that his son loves musicals but “hey, that whizzer brown guy is pretty cute?”

charlotte is a director

she’s only done tv and film but is making the move towards stage things

it’s hard but she’s brilliant and i trust her

she meets cordelia on a set as cordelia was making a short tv appearance

trina is marvin’s ex and also an actress

she’s currently more into making a home now with her new husband, mendel

she’s taken up writing again during her slight acting hiatus

she wanted to be a writer long before she got into acting but she got her first role and got bit by the showbiz bug tbh

she has co-written things before but wants her own creation

she’s done both tv/film roles and broadway roles – truly a multi-talented machine

mendel is still a psychiatrist (and he was marvin’s prior to mendel & trina’s engagement)

he’s so loved on social media because of trina

imagine shitty buzzfeed articles about how trina and mendel are Relationship Goals

mendel was plastered all over trina’s instagram, photobombing and taking cute selfies

trina’s fans insisted he got his own instagram

he even got snapchat and honestly if you’re not following it, are you really a True Fan?

jason is keeping with his school studies but he’s an aspiring kid actor

jason is often between parents with added stress since they’re both famous

rumours fly when whizzer and marvin both publicly come out on the same day

PR had a field day and the media was going nuts

whizzer didn’t really care but marvin was Outraged for no goddamn reason

that didn’t stop whizzer from being petty in interviews (”i heard that marvin is a nightmare on set, god forbid I ever work with him”)

marvin: he did it on purpOSE charlotte, exasperated: why the hell would he do that, marvin

marvin literally throws the best fit of the year (haha, nice in trousers reference)

whizzer is happy to have finally dispelled the rumours that he and cordelia were a thing

cordelia has an interview shortly after interviewer: so how is your relationship with whizzer faring after the big reveal? how is whizzer? cordelia: gayest man i know

cordelia is spotted kissing a girl (it’s charlotte but it was a shitty picture)

cordelia’s agent is flying off the handle and cordelia just tweets like “i never said i was straight [insert 20 emojis of hearts, rainbows & girls]”

whizzer and cordelia are each given a new script to read through for a new musical – both of them love it

trina wrote it!! she’s so ecstatic that they like it

she wrote a role with marvin in mind and is desperate for him to accept despite his apparent hate for musicals

trina went to school with him and knows that he performed in the school musicals, the fucking hypocrite

marvin: this is the worst possible thing you could make me do trina: i walked in on you having sex with a guy in our home, you insensitive bastard. now read it, asshole

guess who loves it?? that’s right, it’s marvin… then he finds out that so does whizzer brown.

marvin: i’ll do it- trina: yay, thank you thank yo- marvin: on one condition: whizzer brown does not trina: marvin!!

through trina’s flawless persuasion, he finally agrees but he’s not happy about it

on their first meetup, marvin is nervous as hell. i mean he hasn’t performed in… years? he’s praying those high school singing lessons do him well.

charlotte is pulled in as director because of cordelia’s high recommendation

she walks in and cordelia stands up to hug her

cordelia: look, look, look, it’s my girlfriend!! whizzer: *gasps* nepotism cordelia: is it nepotism if she’s not technically my family?

cordelia is the lead and performs her Big Emotional Number. the whole room is silent, basically everyone is crying.

marvin starts a slow clap that erupts into applause

cordelia rushes over to kiss her girlfriend.

whizzer, nudging marvin: still hate musical theatre? marvin: how di- whizzer, turning away: i did my reading marvin: hmph

he’s a stubborn fuck

marvin and whizzer have a duet and the whole room can practically feel the sparks and “god, is it hot in here?” or is marvin just blushing up a storm

whizzer is also in disbelief. this arrogant prick gets talent as well?? sure, marvin’s voice is sort of wobbly but there’s heaps of promise.

whizzer: wow… didn’t know you could sing. i thought you were the result of further nepotism *eyes trina* marvin, smirking smugly: i didn’t know you could sing either and she literally divorced me, whizzer brown whizzer, deadpan: ha ha marvin: well then, how do i compare to caroline? [co-worker that whizzer once praised] whizzer: how did y- marvin, grinning: i did my reading

marvin & whizzer both had their “oh god, i kind of like this guy” moments

they have their first group run through to see if the cast actually has any chemistry and of course they do

it’s a huge cast and they do a big upbeat number and everyone is beaming, practically glowing.

this is the moment everyone realises this show is going to be a hit

i’m gonna stop here but i have lots of ideas. feel free to send me asks about certain aspects or any ideas you may have!! i’m happy to share more if there’s any actual interest in this. this is super self-indulgent.

[jayne-hecate-writer]

Blade Runner 2049 A review

warning: This blog post contains spoilers. Do not read this if you have not yet seen this movie. Trust me, this movie deserves your attention.

It is not often that I walk out of the cinema and wish that I could erase a movie from my mind, but this is what I felt after seeing the sequel to one of my all time favourite movies, the 1982 classic cult film Blade Runner. Now with a statement like this, I feel that I need to explain myself, after all this sounds pretty damning, but it really is not. I want to erase this movie from my mind so that I can see it again and revel in my time with this story.

You see, I absolutely loved this movie; I know that some have complained that with a run time of almost three hours, it is a bit long. But for me, it could have gone on even longer. I sat almost in rapture watching this movie; for me it was an experience, an epic in story telling that frankly is not only beautiful to look at, but has a narrative that explores our very nature as living beings.

First of let me discuss the main character within this story, Kay (played by Ryan Gosling), a replicant who faces bigotry and abuse every day from his colleagues in the Police force. He is also forced to endure constant checks to ensure that he remains on task and does not deviate from his programmed role. He is in every way other than name a slave and he functions in this world with a brutal clarity, taking out the escaped Nexus 8 replicants that escaped after the great black out destroyed all of the data records. Oh yeah, before you watch this movie, it really helps to watch the three short films that lead into it from the original film. Not only are they fantastic movies themselves, but they fill in some details that would otherwise be story gaps. This means that with these short films, Blade Runner 2049 does pass the three hour mark and to my mind this is not only acceptable, but should be encouraged. Fuck the short attention span and the low brow sci-fi that is a glorified war movie, with what ever kind of space race makes for eye candy on screen. No, this movie is something important, it has a depth to it that is going to require repeated viewings and frankly I cannot wait to see it again.

The first fight scene with Dave Bautista of Guardians of the Galaxy fame is horrifying and brutal. However these are not the over riding emotions that we feel during this scene, what we feel is ultimately the sadness of watching an innocent life snuffed out because it is deemed to be of less value than a real human being. From this point, the film sets out to discover what it means to be a real human being and there are moments when we are led along a path that would imply that our hero is more special than his brothers and sisters that come from the same factory. The reveal though that he is just another ordinary replicant is not heart breaking, but so poignant. All of the replicants share this dream of being real, but only one of them ever was.

As the story progresses we encounter the dusty world of post apocalyptic Las Vegas and it is here that something important is said to us in visual form. A simple comment on the nature of society, the bee hives. They mean so much more than the initial moment suggests. They too are slaves to their existence, with no plant life around them, they take only sugar water from feeders and create their honey for human consumption. If they are real or not is never discussed, but in this world it is safe to assume that they too are replicated. Shortly after this we discover Deckard and we find him to be even more of a derelict than he was. He is still a drunk, he is old and faded, weak and widowed following the death of Rachel. Kay and him come to an uneasy peace and the question on his humanity remains unanswered in real terms.

However, I feel that there are pointers here. We are told that the Nexus 8 replicants have unlimited life spans, unlike the old Nexus 6 models from the original film. There are hints that Deckard is maybe a Nexus 7, given that the Blade Runner units are mainly replicants. Then there is the comment from his old friend Gaff when he is asked why Deckard left. “There was something in his eyes.” Can they make the point any more ambiguous? Probably, but it would be unkind to do so.

There is one big reveal in this movie that is not only heart breaking, but gives us hope for all replicant kind. Rachel and Deckard conceived a child together, but Rachel unable to safely give birth died and the child was removed from her body and hidden. We meet her earlier in the film than we realise and she reveals a great truth that we are unaware of at that time and when we realise later on who she is, our hearts are broken once again.

I notice though that I have barely mentioned the main antagonist in this movie, the replicant Luv, the childlike assassin sent out into the world by her creator and designer of the new breed of replicants Wallace. She is as deadly as she is child like, she kills with the intensity of a child ripping the wings from dragonflies. There is a cruelty to her, that is not seen in any other character with in the film. She is the only replicant in this film who we do not route for, despite her childlike innocence. Given that she murders at least three people on screen, it is hard to say that she is innocent, but here again we know that she is simply a slave, doing the bidding of her master and god alone knows what else he requires of her to satisfy his misanthropic lustings.

The truth is that there is just too much here to discuss in a two thousand word blog post. Blade Runner 2049, set in an alternative universe to our own, is a bleak dystopian nightmare full of such sadness and horror, despite the technology. This is a story about loneliness and the search for truth, freedom and love. This is a critique of slave cultures, it is a critique of the capitalist system where the low waged are forced to survive at a level that borders on global poverty. This is a critique of our attitudes towards sex workers and how dehumanised they are. Most of all though, this is a visual essay on the philosophy of what it means to be alive, to be real.

Worthy of note is that it appears to be only the replicants who express emotion. They cry, reveal angst for the things that they do or the things that happen to them. The human characters never cry and here again, we see even Deckard, his eyes leaking tears. Was this another hint that he too is a replicant. Given that all of the humans are dehumanised emotionless monsters who will abuse their replicant slaves, I would suggest that this is the case. When Luv herself cries as she prepares to murder yet another victim, we know that she too is aware of the enormity of what she is about to do and yet, as a slave, she is powerless to do differently.

This was an epic, a work of art and a philosophical minefield that shows us humans to be the predatory monsters that we truly are. As I watched the end titles climb the screen I knew that I had not just watched a movie, I had witnessed something important. Two days before I had been sat alone in my office contemplating my own end and I had wished deeply to see something beautiful. Then I saw this movie and I got my wish and more besides. But this was not an easy on the eye beauty. This was a devastating beauty. I was not the same after seeing this movie, something fundamental in me had changed and my desire to see something truly beautiful had been sated. This is not an easy movie to watch, far from it, this is brutal and cruel trip through a world where children are sold to whatever person can afford to buy them from a Dickensian slave owner. It is never stated outright if the children are human, but we can pretty much assume that they are. The factory conditions in which they are forced to work is straight out of Oliver Twist, this is not subtle, this moment is blasted into us, the punches are not pulled when it is explained that the children can be bought for whatever purpose at a price. What kind of an awful world is it that children can be treated so? Well actually, this is taken straight from our own. The world of Blade Runner 2049 is soul crushing and vile, tragic and brutal.

So it was for these reasons that I wanted the movie removed from my mind so that I could go into the dark once more and be moved as I was. I want to feel that emotional attachment to this world once again. I want to be spiritually moved by this movie again, I want my heart to be split open and I want all of the torment to mean something again. This movie is important as a work of art and as a critique of our species. When I got home and thought about this film some more, my dam burst and just like our down trodden replicant heroes, I wept. Yet despite the over all sadness of this movie, despite the bleak world and the terrible things done to the people we are reliably told are not real people, there is a feeling of hope in this film.

I am sad to report that the movie going public have not embraced this movie as well as they should. But then this was always going to be the case. The action loving, beer swilling patrons in our showing that kept repeatedly leaving to buy more beer or use the facilities could not and did not sit there having the same spiritual awakening that I had. But then this movie was not made for them, this movie was made for the people who deconstructed the original and broke down every point of reference to our own culture. I heard a rumour that Philip K Dick was not overly fond of the film that his book inspired, which for me is a great shame. However, even if that rumour was true, I very much think that he would have looked at this film and seen it for the masterpiece that it is.

It is true to say that there are some clunky moments, particularly with the product placement, some would say that the pace is slow at times, but these are barely criticisms given the enormity of the project. I felt connected to this movie in ways that I barely felt to the original, despite my love for it. As such I can only say again, this movie is an important piece of art. Some may accuse it of pretension, but every second of footage is essential. I truly hope that when we see this movie on DVD, we get the extended, unedited full story that we deserve. I could happily spend four or five hours in this world, just to feel the devastation of my soul once again. So yeah, if it were possible, I would wipe this movie from my mind and then I would see it again and again and again.

[ijustwant2write]

Falling Into The Wrong Crowd-Part Six (Jax Teller X Reader)

(GIF credit to owner)

Masterlist

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 7/ Part 8/ Part 9/ Part 10/ Part 11/ Part 12

Summary: Even though the Devoted Predators are gone, the traumatic night has left an awful memory on the girls. They continue with the new business, trying to adapt to their new life in Charming. The storm hasn’t passed yet though and another threat is on the way.

Meanings: (Y/N)= Your name

Warnings: Swearing, guns, drugs, alcohol (it’s Sons of Anarchy, what do you expect?)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Ok, let’s go from the top!” I shouted out to the girls in the studio.

All of us were sweating after a long session of learning new dance routines for the club. A week had passed by since the incident and most of the bruises had faded, the cuts healing well. The Sons had become closer friends to us, especially after a couple of nights working together; and by that I mean the Sons getting pissed out of their heads as we tried to keep them from getting into fights or taking our girls away.

We had been back once to go to a Clubhouse party which really lifted our spirits. I still wasn’t a fan of the croweaters, they had always been annoying to me. But they were a big part of an MC lifestyle, they were here for the guys, not us. The company was well needed from the others though, I think it set us straight again.

“Alright girls, you’ve done really well today. Keep practicing those routines and I’ll see some of you tonight.” I dismissed them, out of breath as I took a huge gulp of water.

“Looking good (Y/N).” Luanne commented as she passed the girls leaving the studio.

“Thanks. They work hard.”

“Damn right we do.” Keira smiled, flicking her fiery hair over her shoulder.

Luanne crossed her arms over at chest.“Wish you were like that in your other job.”

“In my defence you do pair me up with the worst guys.”

“That’s cause you can take them. Those new girls are awful fakers. Don’t suppose you want to earn some extra cash (Y/N)?”

I was taken aback by her question.“O-oh my god, no, no thank you.”

“Actually you’re face in my movies would draw the audience in.”

“Luanne, you could offer me a huge sum of money and I wouldn’t do it.”

“Spoil sport. Right, I’ve got to get back to filming and so do you Keira.” she exited the studio, Keira making faces behind her back.

I giggled.“Gosh Keira, never thought you would be one to miss out on free sex. Wait no, it’s not free sex is it-”

“Oh my god just stop. You’re right, you shouldn’t do porn, you would be awful at dirty talk.”

I was about to disagree when she beat me to it.

She grabbed my arms.“Oh! I forgot to tell you earlier, but I think I’ve got a date set up for you.”

My eyes widened.“What!? No, no, no I’m not going on any dates.”

“It was sort of an accident. But maybe it will do you some good! He’s a nice guy, Jack I think his name was?”

“You think? Oh god, Keira what have you done?”

“Don’t be like that. You never got out much until….well you know when.”

“Exactly which is why I want to stay away from dating for a while.”

“Ok, understandable, but there may be a slight problem.”

My eyes felt as if they were popping out of my head.“What else have you done?”

“I gave him your number.”

“Keira! What the hell were you thinking!? That’s my personal information.”

“It’s a number, you can always change it.”

“That’s not the point! You can’t-you know what, there’s no point explaining. I’ve got to go, hopefully I won’t be tracked down by this so called ‘Jack’ who will probably turn out to be a serial killer.”

Slightly pissed off at Keira, I grabbed my bag and phone before heading towards the bathroom facilities (well, the main dressing room for the porn stars). I was allowed to shower and get ready in them, meaning I didn’t have to go home a stinking mess. Once I was clean and dressed, I got into my car heading towards the TM. It was normal for us to go see Gemma and the boys, sometimes even their old ladys now we were introduced. As I pulled in I could see that everyone was there as their bikes were lined up. Reaching over to the passenger seat to grab my bag, I felt my door open. Jax stood there smiling, offering a hand out to me.

“Thanks.” I chuckled at his antics.

“You’re welcome m'lady. What you doing here today?” he asked as I climbed out, locking the car afterwards.

“Just thought I’d visit. Also Frankie said she was here and needed a lift home, something is wrong with her bike I think.”

“She’s been fixing it up, needs some new parts.”

He walked with me to the garage, creating small talk. It wasn’t hard to see that there has been flirting between us, but every time I got closer to him, I had to back away. I had already dated a biker and we all saw how that turned out.

I wasn’t comparing him to Zac, not at all, but I knew the lifestyle very well. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to get into anothe relationship so soon either. There were rumours (well, probably more like facts) about Jax being a total womanizer. Although I really wanted to believe he wouldn’t hurt me after all that happened, there was still a part of me scared of what he could do. I fell for Zac easily, who said I wouldn’t with Jax?

We walked in to see Frankie crouched beside her bike, Bobby and Tig crowding her in their overalls. I always felt slightly out of place as I knew nothing about mechanics but was welcomed all the same. They greeted us and went back to helping Frankie.

“How’s it coming along?” I asked, knowing that they would bombard me with terminology I had no clue about.

“Just a few touch ups. Haven’t fixed her in a while, thought I might as well take an advantage of my new workplace.” she grinned up at me, twirling a srewdriver in her hand.

“Excuse me?”

“I got a little job here. I like the club and all but I can’t sit still in an office or watch the girls twirling on stage. Plus I’ll be bringing in more for the rent.”

“No, I think it’s really nice that you’ve got it.”

“She fits right in too, needed some eye candy round here.” Tig winked at her.

She sighed as she rolled her eyes.“There is one downside of the job as you can see.”

We laughed, Jax nudged me with his shoulder, gesturing to follow him. Glancing at the others, they hadn’t noticed anything so I caught up to Jax who was heading into the clubhouse. Opie and Happy were playing a game of pool while sipping on some beers whilst Chibs sat on a stool at the bar reading a newspaper.

“Alright lass? How you holdin’ up?” Chibs asked as I approached him, hugging me.

“Not too bad thanks. Hey guys.” I waved to the others who copied.“It seems quiet round here, maybe to quiet.”

“I think after our run in with the others we’re glad it’s like this.” Jax stated as he lit a cigarette.

I let out an unamused laugh.“Yeah, that’s understandable. At least they’re gone forever now.”

The sound of the pool balls echoed throughout the room as Opie slipped the cue. He tried to recover even though no one was laughing at him. Happy was silent as usual, his resting bitch face permanently plastered onto his face.

“Aye lass, tha’ they are.”

Just as we got back into a conversation, my phone began to ring. It was an unknown number and I groaned, praying that it wasn’t who I thought it was.

“What’s wrong?” Jax asked adbhe blew out smile from his mouth.

“Ugh, Keira gave my number to some guy without telling me. I think it might be him but I don’t want to answer it.”

They both laughed at that.

“Why no’ risk it? Have some adventure?” Chibs mocked.

“Yeah, well, my last relationship didn t end so well, did it?” Later on in the evening, Gamma invited us round to dinner with the club. I was shocked but felt hnoired to be invited, immediately alerting the girls. They too were excited, telling me all about the food served there. They had more of a background with Gemma, she was like a mum to them; I just hoped she would accept me too.

Things were settling down now. Everyone seemed happy or at least content. As we sat around the huge table, some of us squished together, I looked at each person. This could be my new family, a sort of broken one, though still a family. Jax was sat beside me, whispering jokes and compliments on my ear. My face was on fire for blushing; I had been able to talk back to him, making him red too, it was obvious I was not a master at this. Keira was right about one thing. Gemma’s food was truly the best I had ever had, the company was amazing and I could feel my happiness start to seep back into my body.

“Are you not going to get that?” Gemma asked my phone rang for the third time today.

I had offered to help the women with the dishes but the phone was a distraction.“I don’t really want to.”

“Instead of leaving it, why don’t you just tell him to fuck off?” Alex shrugged.

“Because it’s rude. I didn’t think he would keep on trying to be honest. Actually we don’t even know if it’s him, I just have a feeling.” I started to dry off my hands.

“Only one way to find out.” Gemma smirked, taking the kitchen towel from me.

Giving in, I snatched the phone off the counter, rushing out of the room so no one would hear me. I answered it in the corridor trying to remain calm.

“Hello?”

A male voice replied.“Snitches don’t live very long sweetcheeks, watch your back.”

[theculturalvacuum]

A Storm of Fan-Fic Asks Round-Up!

This is the last of the bunch that I’ve been hoarding. What we learned is that this story doesn’t have enough characters and that their relationships aren’t complex enough.

The next chapter is going to be a long one so, like, don’t hold your breath. (I promise it’ll be worth it?)

The Story: A Wedding in Sunspear

Anonymous said:

Lovin the tales you are spinnin My Lady, one little ask, why does Ormond never mention his mother when he asks about his sister and Clarion? Did she die? Run away to spouse island? Went home? Gone native and living with a paramour? Been fridged?

I mean, having one parent be mysteriously non-existent is kind of a Martin-esque tradition when it comes to Dorne… I don’t think she’s dead. Her name isn’t grey on the family tree. She may be like Senna on Project Voicebend, except she never asserts that she is also there?

I doubt Edgar pays her much attention, and the kids take their cues from him.

Anonymous said:

Wow, Daeron is a dick, but very realistic. Especially with all his privilege and probably no one ever telling him the truth. Even Jeremy probably still sugar coats things to him, given their situation and the massive difference in rank. Also for Daeron all the love matches around him he probably makes him think he deserves a bite of that pie too. Everyone else in his family broke engagements why shouldn't he. Maybe he didn't want to be left out of that club.

Daeron is, indeed, a dick.

Like, Jeremy deserves so much fucking better. Any decent thing Daeron has ever done was only because Jerry was there having a positive influence. What does he see in the spoiled dickhead?

Sorry, sometimes I forget that I made up this relationship dynamic and it makes me angry.

Anonymous said:

Are you sure you didn't get the lineages wrong with Deneza and Joleta. The one without the Martell Mama is the one who seems much more Martell (or at least the devotion of job and duty) and the one with the Martell Mama seems to embrace the Martell special status she gets from it but not take on any of the duty aspects.

Ha. Maybe that’s Joleta’s Gargalen side? I have no clue. They’re certainly more chill than Martells.

Deneza’s job is kind of a big deal. And this wedding is the biggest thing she done. Joleta is kind of being a jerk.

Anonymous said:

What's the coat of arms of House Laq? I'm guessing it's got light green on it somewhere, considering Kylie's family tree

Yes, it’s a light green field with a grey stone watchtower. Their words are “Our Ground Remains Firm”. Because, like, they live in a river valley in the middle of a desert that floods seasonally, like the Nile, so the literal ground isn’t so firm, by they are. Because they’re so steadfast and junk.

Yeah.

Anonymous said:

Well now I have to know more specifics So what fruits is Deneza into? Dates? Berries? Apples? Figs? Pomegranates? Apricots? Or is she a junk food dornish style kind of gal who? Is she secretly into dornish eggs? The ones that don't exist like spaghetti Bolognese doesn't but weirdly she likes this northern appropriation of what they think is a dornish dish.

She likes persimmons, because they’re the best and she has good taste.

She thinks all those northern “Dornish” dishes that they think are spicey but totally are not are adorable.

Anonymous said:

I feel like the big thing that's coming is dany and maron fucking in the middle of a feast or something. Am I close?

Omg. No comment.

Anonymous said:

Is Simon Leygood the indebted Simon who tried for Rohanne's hand? Or is he another Simon? Lets hope Lady Blackmont keeps him away from money if he's the same guy.

No, that dude would be, like 100 years old by now. Those Leygoods have family names, I guess.

Anonymous said:

Will we hear a bit more about how Owain is coping in Dorne in the upcoming chapters? I wonder if in the future he'll go native. His life will be interesting and a bit freer. He's there with his cousin who is going to be the consort of the Princess of Dorne and he's staying there so he'll be a well connected match for a lady of Dorne who wants to be closer connected to the Princely house. He seems quite easy going, Dorne might agree with him. Plus he's under miles less pressure than Eliott

Well, he’s Eliott’s BFF, so he’ll be around for sure.

I’m sorry, but anything like the phrase “Dorne agrees with me” just reminds me of Madison and her stupid slutty dress. Maybe Owain will start wearing a bathrobe of sex appeal?

JK, he doesn’t wear a sword on dates either.

To be honest, I haven’t given much thought to Owain’s future, maybe he’ll hook up with Alyse Ladybright. She would see all the social climbing implications that you mentioned.

Anonymous said:

Daenella is the best. Kind of nice to see a sort of somewhat anti-martell who doesn't take her responsibilities so seriously. I'm sure those poor smallfolk where she is were delighted when she came thinking that they'd get answers to their questions and then action and now they're probably sitting around wondering if they could exchange their martell for another one

Aw, poor smallfolk.

I wouldn’t call her an anti-Martell, though. Her ability to flit around doing whatever is just the other side of the privilege coin as Loree and her tyrannical tendencies.  

Anonymous said:

Yay, was cool seeing a bit more the bigger non POV characters again like Joleta and Rhona. Rhona is a superstar, she not only gets all the shit done, knows everyones name, now she's lost her bed as well. I'm glad she seems to have job satisfaction though, lol, she has a fantastic position at court in the ear of the future ruling Princess a job she'll likely have for a long while is the grooming to take over goes well, I'm sure losing her bed for a little bit is no huge price to pay

Yeah, Rhona has a pretty plum gig. And she’s good at her job and everyone knows it. I think her brand of administrative competence is admired the same way that martial abilities in men are admired. It’s the same reason Deneza is thought to be such a badass, for example.

It’s kind of a bizarre world where you can parlay a job helping a lady put on her jewelry into one collecting taxes or whatever, isn’t it?

Anonymous said:

Poor Genna that must have all been very unpleasant. I don't thik she expected that to happen probably a dornish guy wouldn't have bragged in the same way or at least not in that particular setting, plus the dynamic would have been different with a dornish guy. don't think she was quite prepared for this mess at all, nice to see her with Gallwel though, although he's a younger brother so that's probably a different kind of dynamic than one where Maron sees her as a younger sister to protect.

Yeah, Genna might have the Martell lack of perfect judgement when it comes to sexual partners, but she wouldn’t have done it if she knew that would happen. And gender roles still exist, so most women would think they need a bro to punch dudes in the face.

Anonymous said:

What do you mean you hope Joleta and Deneza don't hit any rough patches, you naughty author!!!!!! You are the boss of them don't let them control you, you tell them to behave and play nice and be together and happy forever. Thank god there isn't any bullets in this world or else you know exactly who those damn things will be attracted to like magnets. Thankfully lesbians seem to have less issues with arrows.

You know, relationships are hard.

I’m not saying arrows will be involved, but there will be exactly one death in this story.

Anonymous said: How widely known is it that Arion is Genna Sand's father? Maron, Dany, and Genna herself all seem to know, as does Ariandra Fowler (who seems to think it's her duty to know everyone's business). Is it one of those things that almost everybody knows, but it's considered rude to talk about?

Dude, everyone knows. It’s officially just a rumour, but it was obvious from day One.

Anonymous said:

How do you imagine Ormond and Olyvar Sand's relationship? Ormond squired for Olyvar and was knighted by him, but he seems to have a closer relationship with Rhod than Olyvar. Speaking of Ormond, do you see him a foil for Loree? Loree is almost a perfect reflection of her father, while Ormond is quite different from his own father. Is that just a product of being raised at Sunspear/the Water Gardens or would Ormond and Edgar be different even if Ormond were raised at Yronwood?

Yeah, I should put some work in that relationship. Olyvar is kind of intense, so I think Ormond couldn’t really turn to him for that more nurturing father role that he needed, and Rhod is a total softy. But as I said, I’ll put thought into this.

As for Ormond being nothing like Edgar… I suggest rereading “Ormond I”?

Anonymous said:

I'm really enjoying your Rowan's. I was always going to like the Martells because well duh!!, but the Rowans have really got my attention, particularly the two cutie pies of Sarra and Aelora, as well as my main man Adwin. Eliott is fun but I foresee him having a rocky road ahead before he finds any kind of solid ground in Dorne. Corret is like the typical Reach dude who even has his own courtly love story that could be a song. It's good to see them holding their own in the character stakes.

Thank you. Women with patriarchy brain are the most fascinating characters ever, and Corret is a bit of a challenge. It’s really tempting to make him a total asshole, but I have Tybutt for that.

Anonymous said:

I'm strangely positive for virgingate. I feel like Eliott needs to have his bubble properly burst before she can actually get his head around the life and marriage he's going to have. Once he's done that then he can slowly start finding a place in his new world and creating an actual relationship with Loree and learning and embracing soft power and a role he never thought he'd have. But until the bubble truly burst he'll keep clinging to the image in his head of how he thought his life would be

Well, I guess the question is if he’ll be able to get over himself.

Anonymous said:

Okay so I'm sorry, but in a modern au what are the cliche college tropes for your characters? Lewyn is the likeable jock, for instance.

Okay, here we go:

Loreza - the legacy kid who still gets straight As.

Eliott - Soccer player who everyone likes. Very good at beer pong. Secretly came to university to actually learn.

Alyse - the naturally brilliant one who doesn’t need to study.

Horas - Asshole football player who everyone tolerates because football in American universities terrifies me.

Dany - the younger sister who came for a tour and ended up drunk.

Rhona - Obsessed with her resume

Morgan - the younger brother who has all the college sweatshirts and wears them to middle school

Maron - the legacy kid who wouldn’t have gotten in otherwise

Lewyn - the good hearted football player everyone likes

Joleta - the party girl/star of the tennis team

Ormond - Double major in english and history. He didn’t make the team. He’s invited to all the parties but ends up taking care of the drunk people. His dad is in jail for a while collar crime.

Elda - the one who’s in the pictures from all the parties, but is never tagged

Genna - the cool one who also has a tragic backstory

Jeremy - closeted water polo player

Daeron - the fine arts major with blue hair. His thing is graphic design. It’s his passion.

Rolyn - IR major who likes to play frisbee on the lawn of the frat house. Member of the debate team, but he makes it cool.

Eldon - Baseball player who’s fucking a professor. He’s a really good pitcher, but chose college over the farm system. General mensch.

Mariah Florent - the cheerleader that no one finds hot

Olenna - in the marching band.

Ami - the one who you don’t understand how the hell she got into a university in the first place. Oddly devoted to her boring, and much less hot, boyfriend.

Tyia - Scholarship student who studies accounting because she’s sensible. Plays the flute in the orchestra.

Alleza - High school kid who takes college courses for fun.

Alastor - Brilliant history grad student with a substance abuse problem. He’s the TA who shows up shit faced.

Deria - Cool professor, buys the underage students beer.

Artyr - Perfectly adequate polisci grad student overshadowed by his sister.

Deneza - Economics postgrad well into the tenure track. Somehow got herself involved with a student.

Anonymous said:

Maron only likes three people? I'm assuming that means Arion, Morgan and Dany. But he seemed to like Genna well enough. Does he not like his grandfather and mother and aunts, and uncle? Even though one of his aunts and his uncle are so much younger than him, he surely can't dislike those two that much, Devan in particular is only a kid. I can imagine though when he is at Wyl him and Ariandre have an interesting relationship to say the least.

I’m not sure how much Maron like Arion, to tell you the truth. He did kind of, like, abandon him for ten years. His formative years too. And a lot of Arion’s proud papa stuff with him is guilt. (He’s still a Martell, after all.) This is another thing I should actually explore, I think….

But yeah, I meant Dany and his two sibs as the three people. He thinks the rest of his family are okay, I guess, but those are the three people he would actually get off his ass for.

Anonymous said:

My main take away from this new sumptuous chapter was, Deneza works too hard, Joleta feels neglected, probably horny and Deneza feels like Joleta doesn't care about how much pressure she's under right now. Not sure much else happened in this chapter, think there was some guy called Daeron involved in some fuckery but mainly my attention was fully on my OTP of this canon having a domestic. When this is all over Deneza and Joleta need some alone nakey time and a looooooong chat, then more nakey.

You know, if sex could solve all relationship problems like that, I would never have any relationship problems ever. What a world that would be.

But yeah, Joleza are way more interesting that Daeron had his general dickishness.

Anonymous said:

I have no idea what you've got planned (or not planned) for little Ellaria Uller but I hope we get to see her interact with her dad when Corret I around. I just want to see the contrast between them, but also secretly I want Ellaria to be the very clever type who Dylan hopes might one day be a Keeper of a Tower, or another high ranking job. And Corret is just bewildered by it all, and how Dylan is so into the idea of having a clever daughter who will help run Dorne.

I like this idea. She wants to be just like her Aunt Deria when she grows up.

And poor Corret.

Anonymous said:

Besides Daenella, would you describe any of the Martells in your fic as hot Martells? Rhod and all his siblings seem to be pretty cold (even Arion only seems lukewarm) and Loree and Lewyn both seem pretty cold as well. Would Maron and Joleta count as hot Martells because they're half Martell or are the disqualified for not having the Martell name?

Well, the Hot and Cold Martell paradigm is a gross oversimplification of complex personalities. People like neat stories.

That being said, Rhod and Loree are both about as Cold as you can get. But even they both have… moments. Keep reading.

Arion is more than fifty, so he’s mellowed out. In his youth he was as Hot as Oberyn was, even if he never managed to kill any of his dad’s bannermen. Trystana is… not as Cold as she’d like to think. Lewyn is quite lukewarm. Maybe because he’s just a kid or maybe because I haven’t really characterized him all that well.

I don’t think people in Dorne would consider Maron or Joleta Martell enough to have a temperature.

Anonymous said:

Is the lack of Fossoways at the wedding intentional? I'd have thought they'd be all over this situation given their close blood connection to Eliott?

To tell you the truth, I never considered them. This story already has so many characters.

God, this ask round-up is all about my failings as an author isn’t it? If you like you can pretend they’re there in one of the giant retinues, but never do anything worth mentioning.