#self control is not here today come back later

[howdyricciardo]

Prices through the roof but anyways

[warnersister]

How the Peaky boys would react to “you wearing a sundress” -> headcannon

(NSFW) but more implied then truly written, but still read at your own risk

Tommy🪖

🪖it was a hot day, and you were rummaging through your clothing chest to try find something suitable to wear to bear the heat outside.

🪖Tommy had headed out early, business to attend to with Alfie Solomons.

🪖he hadn’t meant to wake you, trying to sneak around the bedroom to get dressed and get out of the house: especially after a… long night

🪖but still, you stirred and whined “Tom?” You breathe with a rasped voice “s’alright, back to sleep darling” he instructed but you endured, sitting up and stretching your arms high above your head and Thomas watched as the covers fell to reveal your bare torso and it took all his self control to stop salivating.

🪖you climbed out of bed and threw the slip dress over your head, heading towards your husband who was buttoning his shirt in the mirror

🪖you turned him towards you and swatted his hands away, and he allowed you to finish buttoning his shirt for him, finishing the top button and pulling the collar down to kiss him.

🪖”Solomons is coming by today” Thomas huffed and you looked up at him with narrowed eyes “long meeting?” You ask and he shakes his head “shouldn’t be” you nod “d’you want me to come by later? Bring you some lunch?” You ask and he connects his eyes with yours “y’know y’worry me when you stay in there all day” you continue and he offers a small smile. “I’ll take that as a yes” you say, kissing the corner of his mouth and tapping his chest, ushering him out of the door. “Go on, shoo.”

🪖he smirked and grabbed his cap on the way out, whistling as he went

🪖so there you were, already sweeting with mere silk on your body

🪖you saw a dress with the tags still on, yellow and billowing at the bottom: sundress

🪖you looked it over one before deciding it was the perfect choice for today’s endeavours.

🪖you’d nipped out to the market first, collecting some supplies to make him some soup or whatever you could conjure up.

🪖you even grabbed some sunflowers too; having bought him a vase for his office, thinking it needed some life brought into it, given the volume of lives that were lost in that room.

🪖later in the day you headed to Tommy’s office, assuming that his meeting must be done by now and to feed him.

🪖you’d headed to the Garrison, greeting Harry and having a few wandering eyes following you as you approached the Blinder’s designated room, thinking nothing of it as you turned the door knob.

🪖Tommy couldn’t be mad at your intrusion for the sheer sight of you. His pupils blew out of his head as he looked you over, he’d never seen this dress before. Yet his jaw gritted at the way Alfred fucking Solomons had the same reaction.

🪖”oh I’m so sorry gentleman” you said, pivoting to leave “no no, sweetheart. Alfie was just leaving. Weren’t you?” Tommy asked and Alfie creased his brows but with the eyes his business partner was giving him told him everything he needed to know. “Yeah yeah, just leaving Tom”

🪖Alfie stood, to leave and smiled at you “lovely to see you, poppet” Alfie said, you’d always gotten along with him; you hugged him as he welcomed it, and he grinned at you “you look gorgeous you, yeah? Lovely new dress. Fabulous it is” “fuck off Alfie” “yeah yeah I’m going, bye love”

🪖Tommy looked you over as the door clicked shut with tight lips. “I’m sorry Tom I didn’t think he’d still be here-” “have you had that on all day?” He cuts you off and you raise your brows “the dress?” “Mhm” “oh yeah, found it earlier. Never worn it.” You say, spinning to give him a giddy look at it.

🪖Tommy couldn’t help but smile “c’m ere.” He beckons you over and you approach him “I brought you some lunch-” you begin “nah, got all I need to eat right here” he says and grabs your hips, prompting you to discard your basket on his desk.

🪖he sits back in his seat; opening his legs to pull you to stand between them. He gently takes the fabric between his fingers, then drags his hands so slowly up to your torso, not looking at your face. You fidget anxiously, his hands dragging back down to the hem of the dress.

🪖”dangerous wearing this, love” he says, dipping his hands under the dress to rest on your upper thighs, finally looking at you. You smile. He realises how easily the fabric is lifted, pushing you back to sit on his desk “can’t do this to y’old Tom and expect to get away with it” he says, with a tut, unzipping his trousers and removing his suspenders as he pushes your underwear to the side.

🪖”I’m buying you more o’ these.”

Alfie🧸

🧸Alfie was sat reading the newspaper in his armchair, Cyril asleep beside him when you came into the room.

🧸”so, what do you think?” You asked and Alfie looked up but had to do a double take. A white sundress with frilled straps and tight torso. “Blimey poppet, what’s this then?” He asked, dropping his glasses to the end of his nose to get a better look at you.

🧸”a sundress Alf!” You say, “y’bought it last year, remember?” “Thought I’d remember buying something like this.” He says, standing to his feet, moving to take your hand in his own “give us a spin then darling” he says, turning you as the fabric billowed as you went only for your gorgeous beaming face to return to him.

🧸”now this is fucking fabulous ain’t it darlin’, fucking fabulous. Bloody love it. Suits you nicely” he mumbles as you smile “but y’can’t wear it” he says and your face drops “y’what?” You asks, brows furrowing. “Y’aint givin y’old man heart palpitations and expecting me to let y’out of the house, flower. Not like this” he says sternly, wagging an accusatory finger at you.

🧸”but we’re got to go to the market-” you protest “nah, we ain’t” he says, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as you yelp. He flips the rim of your skirt up so he gets a great view of your ass, smacking it lightly “Alfie!”

🧸”don’t think I won’t shag y’on these stairs, treacle, now let me get up the fucking stairs, yeah?”

🧸then later in the day when you’d finally manage to coax him off of you and out of the house to the market, there was a hand permanently on your waist. And then at some point you bent over to smell some flowers and Alfie couldn’t help but lean his hips into yours. You yelped “Alfie!” You hissed. “C‘mon love I can’t cope.” He grunts, impatiently prompting the rest of the shopping to go by faster, flipping the skirt of the dress up again when he finally got back to the car.

Arthur🍺

🍺so. Fucking. Antsy.

🍺can’t keep his fucking hands off of you.

🍺left early, didn’t he? Ended up waking you up; banging all the doors shut and all that as he clambered out of the house.

🍺you decided that was your wake up call regardless, knowing full well that if he’d have left in a state such as the one he was in last night then it wasn’t good business. Meaning it’d perk him up for you to visit him and calm down his anger during the day, even if it was only a chat to rectify his emotions.

🍺you’d gotten yourself dressed without a second thought, inly to do a double take and head right back into the house when you felt the sweltering temperatures outside the from door.

🍺you’d rummage through your clothing chest, struggling to find anything suitable for such an occasion, used to the drizzly cool downpour of the indefinite English winter.

🍺then you spotted it; the sundress

🍺Arthur had gone mad for it last year, and it was forgotten about at around Christmas time when it was way too cold for attire like that, but now was the perfect opportunity to wind him up again.

🍺and you were in a teasing mood after the way he’d slammed the front door shut and made a crack in the mahogany.

🍺so you’d slipped it on, it was a lovely shade of pink; baby pink to be exact. Arthur loved that colour on you, made him forget all his troubles and appreciate his woman for a while - especially when he couldn’t get his hands off you. So, giving yourself a once over you spritzed a bit of the expensive perfume Thomas had kindly gifted you the Christmas prior, the one you knew Arthur liked the smell of, and headed out the door.

🍺you decided to stop by the bakery on the way to his office, the bakery with the young cashier who had a large crush on you who Arthur absolutely despised, and you knew it’d get him even more rilled up knowing full well that you’d been in that dress, had leant over the counter while the young lad stumbled over his words and explained what was in every one of them, let you sample the one that the lad knew full well was your favourite, and gave you it on the house with a tip on the hat and a kiss on the hand.

🍺yeah this was turning out to be a pretty good day.

🍺so you waltzed through the building, little spring in your step as you greeted all the turning heads who watched you as you walked.

🍺you knocked on his door “fuck off” and you opened it “sorry Arth, thought you’d want some company” you say in the shyest voice you could manage to muster. His demeanour immediately changed when he heard your voice, his posture settled but when he looked at you his mouth ran dry.

🍺”brought you a bun” you say, taking it out of the bag you’d brought and knew full well he looked at the branding on the paper packaging. His jaw went slack. “Fuck me love, y’tryna kill me?” He asked, taking his cap off his head and shooting his head beneath it. “What do you mean, darling?” You asked, feigning innocence, heading to his desk as you placed the treat in front of him. “You know fucking damn well what. That bastard dress is back again” he says, grabbing your waist with calloused hands to bring you closer to him and he looked you over.

🍺”wearing the nice perfume too, ain’t ya love?” He asked meekly and you nodded “warm day and I couldn’t find anything else. Saw how quickly you’d left his morning so I thought I’d bring you something to eat” you say with a small, innocent smile as you stroked his cheek. He swallowed hard, eyes unwillingly shifting from you to the pastry on his desk.

🍺”y’ve been to that fucking bakery, ain’t ya?” He asked, gritting his teeth “well it’s your favourite-” “and that little bastard was serving wasn’t he?” He asked again, eyes narrowing “who? Daniel-” “yes fucking Daniel that little cock rocket who thinks he can get in your knickers that’s who” he seethed.

🍺then it dawned on him. “And he saw you in this fucking thing” he growled, bunching the pink material in his hands as he huffed “m’sorry Arth. Didn’t think” you reply. Liar. “Nah I think you knew. Knew to tease y’old Arthur didn’t you?” He asked, thumb drawing small circles into your waist. You replied with a small smile “I knew it! Y’little minx!” He chuckled, shaking his head.

🍺”well!“You exclaim, taking his hands and prying them from your waist as his face dropped “I’ll leave you be. Enjoy your pasty. Love you.” You say, turning to make your leave and he almost growled.

🍺”where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He asked, standing up after you as you walked back through his door, failing to suppress your smirk. He pretty much sprinted after you, grabbing you roughly and throwing you over his shoulder to turn right back around and into his office. “Got all I want to eat right fucking ‘ere. You ain’t leaving this office in this bastard dress” he promises, slamming the office door behind the two of you.

John🥃

🥃bold of you to think you’re even leaving the house with it on.

🥃he’s not like his brothers, he wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye unless Tommy was literally at the door screaming for him, and even then he was quick to reassure you before he sprinted out the house.

🥃no he liked to wake up with you, especially now there were too many kids to count running around the house.

🥃he liked to wake you up with little kisses, grab you at the waist and pull you back into bed if you tried to leave, brush his teeth beside you in the bathroom, help get the kids ready, pick your outfit, and let you tie his tie which usually took a good half hour between all the songs he’d sneak in.

🥃gave him a sense of homeliness.

🥃a bit of normality.

🥃today was no different, he’d woke you up with little kisses, rolling you to sit on top of him, legs either side of his hips as he repetitively kissed you as you giggled and tried to rise for a breath.

🥃”mammy I’m hungry!” A voice came from the doorway and you saw your agitated son pawing at his pyjamas as he looked at you desperately. “Fucking kid interrupting. About to fu-” John mumbled quietly before you were placing a hand over his mouth with wide, warning eyes. He smirked at you. “Alright mate, I’ll come, leave your poor mammy alone” John answered, finally managing to pry your hand away. “Thanks daddy” he says, giddily, as John reluctantly placed you back in bed and rolled out, chucking a shirt on and turning back to you. “Don’t move” he says, wagging a jokingly warning finger at you and you laugh “yes sir” you salute and he smirk.

🥃”right c’mon mate.” John says, grabbing your son and slinging him onto a piggy back to go grab him something to munch on.

🥃you practically jumped out of bed to go grab the new sundress that you bought last week, you hadn’t shown John yet and decided that today was the day you were going to wear it, especially now you had the quick couple of minutes of peace alone.

🥃”right, little’uns eating his breakf- fuck me” you spun around to look at your husband and smiled “what d’y think?” You ask, “g’i us a twirl” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. You did as he said and pivoted around, showing how the dress spun with you.

🥃”it’s a sundress” you say “I can see that flower” he replies, walking up to you to have a good feel of the fabric, gliding his hands from your upper back to your waist as he pulls you into him “y’can’t wear tha’.” He says simply and you giggle “why’s tha Johnny?” You ask and he raises his brows “that little name tells me you know goddamn why gorgeous.” He says “y’cannea wear it cause I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off of ya.” He says, quickly turning to slam the door shut before picking you up and dropping you on the bed, climbing on top of you and leaning in to kiss you hungrily.

🥃you move to take the dress of and he shakes his head “now, now whole point of this dress is that it’s easy access now, ain’t it?” He hums “leave it on I’ll work around don’t you worry ‘bout me.” He says quickly with his tongue protruding to lick his dry lips as he looks you over.

🥃he dips his head under the hem of the dress and eats you like a man starved. “Mammy! Daddy we’re ‘ungry!” You hear from beyond the door and John stops his movement to come back up for air and clamp a hand over your mouth to stop the sounds coming out of it. John huffs, frustrated but clears his throat. “Harriet darlin’ can you reach the milk?” He asks after a minute “I can da’.” Her little voice replies “Toby can you reach the cereal?” “Uh-huh” the other retorts. “Great and Charlie? Bowls and spoons?” “Yeah I know where they are daddy!” The little one says “perfect. Harriet want you to get the milk, the big ‘un I’m not having you using up the fancy shit your mam bought from Camden. Y’here me?” He asks “yeah dad” “Toby, grab the cereal and Charlie get the bowls and lot.” He instructs “okay!” The collective voices come out. “Hannah need you to make sure it’s all gone to plan, alright hon?” He asks “sure thing” then you hear the patter of feel heading down the stairs

🥃”and I swear to god if any of you little shits make a mess y’ll all be up for the fuckin’ high jump!” He announces loudly, before quieting down and turning back to you “where were we?”

🥃and then when you’d finally managed to pry him off of you, he begrudgingly let you wear it “don’t forget we’re going to Alice’s garden party.” You say “what?” He asks, noticing how you’ve dressed all the kids appropriately “y’ain’t going looking like that flower” he says “I sure am. Come in you lot! In the car!” You say, ushering him out the door

🥃he managed to sneak you away one or two times at the party.

Bonnie🥊

🥊Bonnie’s just as bad as John

🥊cannot keep his hands off of you

🥊”’m takin’ y’ to Bonnie Gold’s fight.” Your brother said walking into the room “wear summot nice, that dress I bought you” “why?” “Just get dressed” you nodded at Tommy, not opposed to visiting Bonnie Gold any day.

🥊”is his sister coming?” Bonnie asked his dad hopefully and the man smirked “why?” “J’st wonderin’.” “Yeah well keep y’eyes on the prize” Aberama told him “she is the fuckin’ prize” “try keep y’hands off of ‘er until the fights over, yeah?” He asked and him and Bonnie just shared a knowing smirk.

🥊you put on the sundress Tommy had bought you the other week, deciding it was a nice enough day to have a breeze against your skin, plus you had a pair of lovely shoes to match.

🥊so you rocked up downstairs, dress on and ready to go and Tommy just gave you a once over “poor lads gonna have a fuckin’ heart attack” John said, laughing “shut up John” you reply, as he opened the door to the car for you, offering his hand to help you up. “You look nice” Arthur commented with a raised brow “damn fucker better win this fight”

🥊”Bonnie” Thomas nodded as he entered the building, followed by his brothers, you at the back with John who’d strung an arm over your shoulder. “Mr Shelby” he nodded at him, but was clearly distracted. “Don’t you worry, Bonnie. She’s right ‘ere.” Tommy says, moving out the way for John and you to come into his view. “Hiya, Bon.” You smile “hiya flower” he manages to muster.

🥊yet, his breath had caught in his throat at the sheer sight of you. Your gorgeous face, hair done up nicely, and a fucking milkmaid dress. Some lovely sundress that other men didn’t deserve to see. Bonnie’s jaw clenched.

🥊”right, we’ll leave the two of you for a minute. Aberama, let’s chat” Thomas said, leading the others away “if he tries anything come and fuckin’ find me.” John said, looking Bonnie over once with narrowed eyes before strutting off after the others.

🥊Bonnie smirked looking at you “y’look lovely” he said quietly, approaching you “not too bad y’self Bon” you giggle as his hands wrap around you, leaning down to kiss you gently. “This fuckin’ dress. Y’do it on purpose?” He asks and you crease your brows “do what?” You hum and he sighs “I guess you’re not beautiful on purpose are you darlin’?” He grins, grabbing your hand to drag you into his changing room and lock the door behind you.

🥊he picks you up and you squeal with a laugh, wrapping your legs around his waist as he holds you against the door. He slips his hands under the hem of the skirt and holds your thighs gently.

🥊”this fucking dress” he says, chuffed that he managed to slip his hands all the way up to settle on your waist and you just smiled at him. You could feel him toying with the waistband of your panties and you laugh “Bon we’ve only got ten minutes!” You giggle and he sighs “guess we’ve got to be quick then, ay sugar?” He asks, undoing his trousers and just merely pushing your panties aside.

🥊you lean your head into the curve of his neck, muffling the sounds erupting from your mouth and muffling them with his bear skin and he slid in and out of you. “God ‘m so fuckin’ obsessed with you.” He groaned “y’know what this makes me think of?” He asks and you shake your head in question against him. “Makes me think of a mammy. What a mammy should wear when she’s pregnant ‘nd can’t get into nothin’ else.” He mumbles. “This wha’ya were tryna do t’me?” He asks “tryna get me to make y’a mammy? Cause it’s working darlin’. So well.” You whine at his remark.

🥊and when you both finish you try to pull up from his shoulder but he holds you firmly in place ���Nuh uh. You dress like a mammy y’become one” he says and you can’t help but smile at his statement. Eventually, he unwraps you from his waist and lets you down onto shaky legs. A knock comes at the door “five minutes, son. Get your hands wrapped” you hear Aberama say to him followed by leaving footsteps. You smile up at him “c’mon I’ll wrap your hands”

🥊you pull him to where the wrap is, sitting him down on the bench and standing between his legs as you work on protecting his hands.

🥊He was being extremely difficult

🥊trying to wrap a man’s hands when all he wants to do is have them under your dress is an extremely difficult task as he kept groping at your skin rather than letting you work. “D’ya want your hands wrapping or not?” You ask with a huff and he smirks “would rather be doing somethin’ else.” He shrugs, but lets you finish. And when you do he pulls you into a tight hug, leaning against the fabric where your breasts were constricted.

🥊”Bonnie, c’mon lad it’s time” you heard your brother say from beyond the door, knocking on it thrice (sausage roll video lol)

🥊Bonnie groaned from under your dress (you didn’t know when he’d managed to snake his way back under there) but you grabbed his hand and yanked him from his seated position to standing; pulling him towards the door and unlocking it to take him to the ring.

🥊Bonnie pulled the hand that was dragging him, sending you flying into his chest with a force that nearly winded you as he gave you one last kiss. “Bonnie! Go!” You giggled, pushing him away and towards the ring, taking a stand beside your brothers as the match began.

🥊The rounds went by painfully slow for Bonnie; regardless of the fact that he was winning - but in reality it was only a good few minutes of pure fighting.

🥊then when the match was finished, he waltzed over to the Shelby family like he owned the place and offered a blood-filled grin as it dripped down his chin.

🥊”well done Bonnie lad.” Tommy said, lighting a cigarette. “Cheers Tommy.” He replied, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. “Didn’t y’get some money f’this match?” John asked, lighting his own. “Nah he’s got his own trophy right over there” Tommy replied, nodding at you as they all turned to see you chatting with Bonnie’s father.

🥊”just do us a favour” Thomas told him and Bonnie immediately nodded “marry her.” “Don’t have to tell me twice, mr Shelby.” Bonnie told him with a chuckle, heading to grab you to resume your activities.

Isaiah♟️

♟️haha.

♟️again, bold of you to assume that you’re getting fucking anywhere with that thing on.

♟️feel like it’d be a black sundress, one with frills on the sleeves.

♟️you’d gone for a walk with Finn, Tommy having told you both to fuck off for a while while they dealt with some deeper business; so a stroll around seemed to be the choice at hand.

♟️eventually though, Finn had gotten distracted by a sign you’d read that said ‘pretty women here shilling for a good time’ and left you to fend for yourself, opting not to follow your twin into the whore house, yet you weren’t in your own company for long, feeling a cap placed on your head and an arm around your shoulders.

♟️“Hey pretty, what’re you doing all alone?” Isaiah asked, as he feel into step with you, but came to a sudden halt almost lurching you back. “And who let you wear that?” His eyebrows raised as he looked you over. “Why what’s wrong with it?” You asked “nothin’ nothin’. J’st don’t understand why it’s not on my bedroom floor” you smacked his chest and giggled “Isaiah!”

♟️”y’shouldnt have been let out wearing this, love” he said, backing you against the wall of one of the nearby buildings. “Well I was with Finn” you reason “hmm? And where is Finn now?” He asks, taking your chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing you to look at him.

♟️”in some whore house” you mumble in reply. He scoffs “some brother”. Then he starts again “why don’t we turn my house into a whore house and get that dress off you and into my room?” He suggests and you roll your eyes “such a way with words”

♟️”y’look fuckin’ insatiable” he says, leaning down to kiss that sensitive spot on the crevasse of your neck. “Dunno how I manage to keep my hand off you most of the time, doll” he shrugs “and in this? Fuck y’not gonna be walking anytime soon”

♟️you laugh at him “you wish peaky junior, now I was enjoying a lovely walk before you came along.” You hum, pushing him back by the chest and he scoffs “I’m a Shelby I can fend for myself” you shrug “not while I make you a Jesus.” He retorts, smirking like he knew he’d won. “Whatever, Isaiah” you say, calmly walking away

♟️he laughs loudly, running after you “c’mon Mrs Jesus we’ve business to attend to!” He announces, swiftly placing a hand onto your chest and pressing you back against the wall, lifting you up and placing hungry hands under the hem of your dress “Isaiah!” You scold, “not here!” He rolls his eyes “fine”

♟️and he places and arm under your knees and one to support your head as he carries you bridal-style back to his house. You clutch at his suit jacket and squeal at his action, holding on for dear life until you got to his home.

♟️did not wait until you got to the bedroom

♟️defo had his way with you against the door once it’d been firmly slammed shut and locked

♟️and on the sofa

♟️and the kitchen table

♟️and then bedroom

♟️(you never took the dress off)

♟️and eventually when you’d decided Tommy was probably done with his important business you managed to coax a begrudging Isaiah to the Garrison with you, who’d initially planned to keep you up all night with him but instead you were heading to a pub instead of his bed; which you’d end up in later anyways

♟️”oh she’s alive!” Arthur said sarcastically as you join them, noticing your presence and subsequently you noticed Finn’s. “How long did you last? Two minutes?” You asked and he scoffed “fuck off” “and of course I’m alive, I’m fine. It was Finn who left me alone!” You say, blame bombing your twin who looked at you with evil eyes.

♟️then Isaiah popped his head round “plus I wasn’t alone I was with Isaiah” you say matter-of-factly and Finn grits his jaw “what’ve I said about staying away from my fucking sister you fucking scrubber” Finn growls, landing a pent-up punch to Isaiah’s jaw who stumbled back slightly. “Didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout fucking her did ya?” He retorted and then he was running for the hills with three brothers sprinting after him.

♟️”men.” Polly said with a roll of her eyes

Michael🎱

🎱he wouldn’t be here nor there

🎱loved how it looks on you

🎱but hates the fact that other men see you wearing it.

🎱he makes heart eyes when he sees you in it, believing it to be the typical dress of a wife and mother; so it pretty much feeds into his delusions.

🎱the only time it saw the light of day in public would’ve definitely been when he’d been courting you. When he’d been invited to some garden party of a rich aristocracy down southwards.

🎱what Tommy failed to mention was that the Capitalist had a daughter a few months younger than Michael, of whom was extremely well spoken, and ridiculously pretty.

🎱he’d obviously weaselled his way over to you and the rest was history.

🎱and of course, history tends to repeat itself.

🎱again, you were heading to a garden party: Shelby arranged this time around, to show your initial family that the marriage between yourself and Michael was going well and therefore Tommy’s expansion to a more wealthier estate was worth the investment.

🎱”I’ll meet you there darling, business to take care of.” Michael had told you that morning while adjusting his collar, allowing you to help him straighten the tie you had wrapped around his neck. “Okay” you hummed, he always loved how you’d never pried.

🎱in reality he was off to see a man about a dog, in other terms; kill a man. Kill a man who’d been eyeing you up like a fucking slice of meat the evening prior. Eyeing you like he wanted to eat you like a man starved, as if your husband didn’t have a firm arm wrapped around your waist and oversized number of carats around your finger.

🎱even had the nerve to try talk to you, had groped at your ass and Michael covered your eyes with one hand while he clocked the bloke around the jaw with the other.

🎱never wanted a woman to see him fight, especially his woman.

🎱so he went about killing the man the next day; well he’s probably dead by now. He took his cap calmly to the man, beneath that bridge by the canal, castrated then blinded the man and left him struggling on the ground, having a couple of lesser known Peaky men surveying the area for the rest of the day to make sure no aid was to come to him, and when his struggling stopped they were to sort his body out.

🎱you made your way to the garden party independently, having worn a darling sundress; white and pristine and freshly pressed, accompanied by a sun hat and some subtle shoes; conservative enough for Michael not to complain that you looked like a whore, but skin-showing enough not to overheat in this sweltering weather.

🎱you were there before Michael, embraced by John and given a kiss on the temple by an already tipsy Arthur who was in that sort of mood where a gent gets rather happy when squidgy, it was a fine line with Arthur.. happy to angered

🎱but you entertained him, saying your hellos and greeting the rest of the family you’d married into, patiently waiting for Michael’s attendance.

🎱he was there soon thereafter.

🎱and he was fucking seething.

🎱he took one look at you as his mouth ran dry, grabbed your wrist and dragged you away from the garden getting countless opposing arguments from the likes of Ada and John questioning what he was doing

🎱but nothing could soften the red he saw.

🎱how dare you wear that dress?

🎱practically threw you into the car, you’d never seen him this upset, let alone have it take it out on you; his loving, doting housewife of whom he trophied for every mistake he made, initially he thought you were his punishment from god.. sent an angel for a devil to take care of. But he’d gotten the hang of switching into a loving husband the minute he returned home

🎱but tonight was different

🎱”Michael, darlin-” “how dare you?” He seethed and you silenced yourself “pardon?” “How many fucking times have I told you you’re not wearing this fucking dress in public, hmm? And you wear it around my fucking horny cousin?” He growls and you don’t know how to reply “he looks at you like you’re a fucking piece of meet, sweets.” He tells you, finally looking at you

🎱”undressing you with his eyes. Watched him myself.” “John has a wife-” “John hires prostitutes. Y’think he’d be a better husband?” He asks, knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel harder “no-” “no. Cause I’ve never hired a fuckin’ prostitute since we’ve been together, and I work hard for you, y’know. Got no where to take my anger out cause I love you so much.” He says and despite the harshness of his words your heart swells.

🎱”killed a man for you and I show up to you actin’ like a fuckin’ whore?” Your mouth opened agape and he chuckled darkly “think I didn’t kill that bloke? Think I’d leave him safe? Nah, not with my missus I wouldn’t” he confirms, placing a hand on your leg as he speeds back home.

🎱he stops the car and doesn’t move for a minute.

🎱”listen to me very carefully, flower. I’m going to change my bloody shirt, and you’re gonna go upstairs, lay on the bed and wait for me. Yeah?” He asks “yeah o’course Michael.” You say as you get out the car

🎱”and leave that fuckin’ dress on!” You hear called behind you.

Finn🎞️

🎞️Finn is just horny 25/8 icl.

🎞️doesn’t know what does it for him about that dress, but it does something.

🎞️it was a hot day, and the family was in some beer garden, Arthur already off his head drunk and the brothers just enjoying one another’s company after successfully ridding the threat of a rival family, the head now dead and the rest cowering to surrender.

🎞️Tommy told Finn to bring his lady friend, the one who worked at the bookshop along, decided it was time to meet the family, and so he did.

🎞️waltzed into your little hole in the wall, grinning as you peered your head around to see the customer who’d caused the door’s bell to chime, and you broke out into a mighty smile just as he did, him opening his arms for you to rush over and into a bone crushing hug.

🎞️even shared a sweet kiss as he said a gentle “hello pretty”

🎞️he noticed the dress you were wearing was new, initially not noticing it as he was too caught up in admiring you. “What’s this? Is it new?” He asked, taking your hand to spin you around. “It is” you grin, allowing the white flowing material to spin as he made you “it’s lovely” he says, noticing something about it but he didn’t know quite what.

🎞️”why are you here?” You hum with narrowed, suspicious eyes as you leant your chin against his dress “aren’t I allowed to say hello to my favourite girl?” He asks with a smirk “yes but I can tell there’s something. A look in your eyes.” You say and he sighs, defeated “party at the Garrison” he says “when?” You ask “right now” he says and you laugh “Finn I can’t just shut shop at 12 oclock on Thursday!” You say, as he reaches into his pocket, throwing ten whole pounds onto the counter “Finn! Where did you get that much money?” You gasp “don’t worry bout it. Enough for you to close?” He asks and you scoff “I can’t accept ten whole pounds, Finn” you tell him “sure you can cause I’m not having it back” he shrugs, pulling your hand to coax you out the door “okay fine!” You surrender as you relent, allowing Finn to pull you out the door and in turn, you lock your door behind you.

🎞️then when you showed to the party, you were greeted by tipsy cheers and hellos as Finn introduced you to his family, Polly and Ada immediately dragging you away to have a separate conversation as they question you about everything to which you giddily go along with.

🎞️John came to stand with Finn, where he was stood still; drink in hand as he watched you interact with his family. “What’s up, Finn?” He asked, nudging him with his elbow and Finn finally broke out of his trace to smile at his brother. “Nothin’.” He shrugged. “Can’t be about your missus, y’head over heels for her.” John said, and Finn immediately raised his brows in panic “no! no! Nothin’ like tha.” Finn said, shaking his head. “Then what is it?” John asked, looking at you, trying to figure his younger sibling out.

🎞️”dunno. It’s summot about that dress” Finn said, eyes raking over you as he tried to figure out what it was and his brother chuckles “easy access, mate.” John said and Finn creased his brows “y’what?” “Sundresses mate, fuckin’ kill me. Easy access innit? Don’t have to even take the dress off” John told him matter-of-factly, necking the rest of his beer in one. Finn’s eyes darkened and John couldn’t hold in his laugh at the realisation that Finn had settled that that was what it was.

🎞️John claps him on the back “if y’wanna sneak off I’ll cover” he said, but by the end of the sentence Finn had already started after you “cheers, mate!” He said to John “sorry, stealing her” he said to Polly and Ada against their judgement, dragging you away from the conversation and into the Peaky office inside the Garrison.

🎞️you giggle at his actions as he locked the dork “what y’doin sill?” You ask “party’s outside!” You say, as he picks you up and holds you against the door, dropping his hands for them to head under the hem of your skirt “right, ‘nd I’ve just figured out that this dress is driving me fuckin’ crazy” he says “you’re fuckin’ insatiable” he says “d’you even know what that means?” You ask and he shrugs “find me a dictionary later or summot.” He says

🎞️”what’s up with the dress” you ask, as he undoes his trousers “easy access innit?”

Aberama🌞

🌞Aberama is a cultured bloke

🌞by that I mean he’s had many a trips around the sun, and in that time good women are few and far between in his opinion

🌞so regardless of you being substantially his younger, he was positive that you were the woman for him and therefore he had to have you.

🌞recently you’d moved into his vardo with him, having left the urban life behind.

🌞he’d woken up one morning to the sun blaring at him through the unclad opening of the vardo, stretching his arms above his head in a mighty yawn, almost certain it was almost midday by this point; especially after the long trek they’d had to get to this sight the night prior.

🌞he reached his arm over, but the spot in the bed was cold and empty, a lone spot where you should’ve been laid. He creased his brows, shooting up in bed to a sitting potion, realising that you were no longer in the vardo at all.

🌞he groaned. Damn you and your early rising tendencies.

🌞he rubbed his eyes and pulled on a pair of undershorts, smirking at the remembrance of the night prior once you’d arrived. He popped his head out of the doorway, looking left and right but curiously not being able to find any trace of you.

🌞he climbed down the steps and placed his hands on his hips, walking around the side of the wooden structure towards the lake that trickled slowly downstream. And that’s where he found you:

🌞his gorgeous bride.

🌞he’d always told you that he never expected you to conform to the traditional gypsy wife role, never needed you to bear him any more children or do the cooking or cleaning. Hell, you could lay around all day doing nothing and he’d look at you with the same adoration he always does. He didn’t even expect you to want to live in a vardo, yet you’d shown up with a bag and a smile when offered.

🌞 yet you refused, you demanded to help. Demanded to conform. You would cook the rabbit he’d kill (given you’d been a bit sick at the initial sight of it). And you’d kill his clothes, paying no mind to any blood shed on it.

🌞you were knelt against the river bank, ringing some clothes out you just washed then placing them into a small wicker basket, in a dress he didn’t quite recognise.

🌞”what y’doin up, sweetheart? Thought I told y’to relax today” he started, beginning towards you. Your head spun and those wide, innocent doe eyes gleamed back at him “had a big journey last night. No good f’little girls to be working the day after” he said, matter of factly with a stern look.

🌞”just wanted to get these clothes washed” you mumble, placing the final garment in the basket. “And what’s this you’ve got on, hmm?” He asked, as you look at your clothes “oh it’s a dress” “Mm I can see that, darlin. Just never seen it before” he tells you and you stand to give him a little spin. “My sister bought it for my birthday” you said and he grunts, gently grabbing your hips to pull you into him and sway you back and forth along with the breeze, dancing to nature’s music.

🌞”well y’know what these dresses are?” He hums and you shake your head, placing both hands on his chest. “These dresses are the kind that mammys wear. The kind you’d wear when they’re all pregnant and swelled up with little babes.” He says, accusingly. “Kind that little wives wear that are asking for a hiding” he warns

🌞”didn’t mean nothing by it, abe. Just thought it was nice” you admit and he smiles “I know you did, princess. Just an innocent little flower y’are.” He shakes his head.

🌞”but y’ve seen the other mammys around the camp haven’t you? Seen how they’ve dressed. Think you know what you were doin’ to your old man” he teases and you shake your head “m too old to be a da’ y’know. Way too bleeding old. Punishing me ain’t ya? Just asking for a little’un” he tuts and you giggle as he picks you up bridal style and carries you back to the bed where he’d began

🌞”Aberama! The clothes!-” “Can fuckin’ wait” he grunts “got a little’un to put in ya first” he says, dropping you onto the bed and lazily flipping up your skirt to do what he did best.

🌞make your skin fucking crawl.

[suuuupernovaaa]

In Secret ft. Benjicot Blackwood

You’ve been meeting Benjicot in secret for some time now, and he’s done hiding.

Tags: Benjicot & Bracken!Reader, no use of y/n, mature 18+

Roughly a 30 minute walk from Stone Henge, your ancestral home, was a rock formation in the woods. Possibly a long forgotten home or shed of some sort, it had long turned to ruins out here in the wilds of the riverlands. Weeds and wildflowers sprung through the cracks in the crumbling structure, pulling it back into nature slowly but surely over time.

It was here that you’d been meeting Benjicot Blackwood in secret for nearly three years now.

This was the place where you’d first met, shared your first kiss, and dreamed of a future together that was not possible with the feud between your great houses.

The Blackwoods of Raventree hall despised your Bracken bloodline, and it was a sentiment your family returned. If anyone found out that your Saturday walks were to meet the enemy, you’d never be allowed outside your fortress walls again.

The day was hot and you shed your outer dress, holding it in your arms and donning only your inner clothes as you walked. The sun crept across the skies, and only the shade of the forest kept you from truly suffering in the heat.

Benji was already at your ruins when you arrived, seated on the ground and leaning back onto his elbow, picking wildflowers and discarding them into the grass. He glanced up as he heard your approach, and his solemn expression melted into a smile.

He stood up, eyeing you from head to toe with that ever-growing grin on his face. It took all your self control to not sprint the last two paces between you.

The days between your meetings felt like their own individual eternities. You lived for these moments, these few hours on Saturday in the ruins with Ben.

He wrapped you in his arms when you reached him, and spun you in a circle. You laughed and he held him tightly once he sat you down, two feet firmly on the ground.

“So eager for me that you’ve undressed already, have you?” he teased, peppering kisses all over your reddened face.

“It is quite hot, Benjicot,” you replied tersely, and he laughed.

“Sure, sure.” He pulled you flush to him, and began slowly inching your under clothes up, up, until you were bare from the waist down, his hands digging into the flesh of your backside, and kissed you firmly on the mouth.

As they always did, your lips parted for him, giving him eager entrance, and you sighed when his tongue met yours.

He pulled you up by the shelf of your behind, and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he backed up, sitting on the edge of the stone ruins.

You could feel his hard length beneath you, and you moaned as his mouth left yours and trailed hot kisses down your neck.

“Are you wet for me already?” he whispered into the skin of your neck, and you could only nod in response.

He bent forward, holding you tightly as he laid you on the ground, now kneeling between your open legs.

“I think of your cunt constantly,” he breathed, his lips trailing down your chest. “How wet you are for me, and how you moan my name. Gods, it’s all I think of.”

He took one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling firmly, and your back arched off the itching grass as you gasped. Only seconds later, his hand found your dripping center, and he pressed circles into your clit with his thumb while two fingers pressed inside of you.

“Oh, Ben,” you moaned, your head falling to the side as you met his fingers, thrust for thrust.

He let go of one nipple with a pop, and before moving to the other whispered, “How fast shall you come for me today, my little love?”

You could not answered as he continued rubbing your clit and petting your inner walls. You were coming apart before him so quickly, but you could not feel embarrassed.

You reached down and as quick as you could, untied his pants and released his throbbing cock. He hissed when you wrapped your hand around it and started pumping, eager for him to join you in pleasure.

“Gods, yes, that’s so good,” he hissed, and brought his mouth to yours again in a sloppy, desperate kiss.

It was not long at all before you were tumbling over the edge together, and you screamed his name as you did.

He collapsed on top of you after, his head on your chest, and you breathed rapidly together for a while.

This was everything you lived for. Being here with Benji, bringing each other pleasure or just talking, it didn’t matter. It was all you wanted.

After a while, he propped himself up on his elbow and smiled down at you with such joy and intensity that it made you blush.

“You must marry me, my lady,” he said, and your smile faded.

“Don’t tease me, Benjicot. You know we would never be permitted to wed.”

“And if we married in secret, forced their hands, would you leave your family and join mine?”

You furrowed your brow and reached up to cup his cheek.

Abandon your family? Your parents, siblings, all those you’d known and loved your whole life? They’d never speak to you again if you married a Blackwood - especially the Blackwood heir.

Could you be enemy to your family the rest of your life?

Your eyes met Benjicot’s again as he stared down at you with the wildness and intensity he was known for.

The alternative was each of you marrying another. Maybe never meeting in secret again as life’s burdens made it impossible. You took a moment to sit in that reality and imagine what was worse: losing Ben, or making an enemy of your family?

“I would marry you, Benjicot Blackwood, if you are being serious,” you replied.

His answering smile was enough to tell you, this was the right decision.

“Meet me here tonight, when the moon is high. Bring only what you can carry. You’ll be my lady-wife when we are finished, and we’ll never be parted again.”

[pombeom]

pose away | yeonjun fic (nsfw)

nsfw, mdni!

pairings: enemies to lovers, arrogant model!yeonjun x sub photographer!reader

warnings: nicknames, slut shaming, blowjob, wall sex, markings, unprotected sex, hair pulling

a/n: this might be my favourite fic written yet! djsjkskssjjaka im craving mean yeonjun so bad rn! not proofread

Working as a freelance photographer bought its many challenges. Today was one of them. You hauled yourself out of bed early in the morning to begin setting up the make-shift studio in your living room. Whilst you were studying photography at a college, working part time gave you the opportunity to build up both your experience and portfolio. Often times you don’t get a choice as you take on whatever projects come your way. Even when the person you despised most on campus comes to you asking for a photoshoot, no matter how much you wanted to refuse, you agreed, setting up a date for your shoot which happened to be today. 

You move the lights arounds, working out the best places for them and begin creating an inspiration mood board on your phone before he arrives. The sun burned through the large windows, raising the inside inside your home so you turn on the aircon, hoping it would cool your house down in time for your guest’s arrival. You know he would complain about it being too warm being the spoiled brat he is. You didn’t want to take any chances, especially not today when he had promised you a large sum of money for your services even though you often charge little to nothing. 

Just as you finished setting up, cleaning up the final bits and bobs around the room, you hear the bell ring and not even a second later, a loud thumping on the door. 

“My god, he can’t even wait a second can he,” you sigh shaking your head at his impatience, already regretting accepting his clientele. 

You open the door to see a tall man standing arrogantly in front of you, wanting to wipe away that smirk on his face as he walked in, shoving past you. 

“Nice set up you there,” he says as he makes his own way through your living room, seating himself down on your leather sofa, manspreading his long legs. 

“Thanks,” you roll your eyes, attempting to suppress your annoyance. Why on earth is Yeonjun in your house right now? How did this even happen? 

He’s wearing a linen shirt, the first few buttons undone, and black slacks making his outfit look laid back in a put together kinda way. His long hair is styled so it’s tucked behind his ear but a few strands strayed and fell onto his face. No matter how much you hated him, you weren’t blind to the fact that he’s probably the most attractive person on campus. There’s a certain aura he possesses that just lures you in. But you were better than that. He doesn’t seem to control you the way he does other girls. No matter how many times you nearly slipped into his charm, you had always managed to bring yourself back. 

“Are you gonna tell me what to do, or are you just gonna keep staring at me like that?” His sharp voice brings you back, slightly embarrassed that he caught you. 

“I wasn’t staring, simply observing you to see what I’m working with.” 

“I’m pretty sure you’ve already “observed” me enough before. Unless you wanna keep staring, then go for it. I don’t mind. I know you like it too,” you let out a sigh, making sure he could hear it, rolling your eyes at his self-centredness. How you were to put up with this for another 3 hours was beyond you. 

“Come stand here. You see the green tape? Just make sure you stand behind it. You can pose away Mr Choi Yeonjun,” you instruct, getting behind the camera as he makes his way onto the white screen. 

Without needing much guidance, he gets into all sorts of poses. He starts off by crouching, sticking out his tongue, eluding with sexiness before shifting to another pose where he’s standing up again, hands in both pockets as he tilts his head ever so slightly but in all the ways that makes a difference. 

For the next 30 minutes, he is constantly moving while you’re almost having to do an entire workout just to keep up with him. The heat of the room also gets to you, your cheeks flushed red which Yeonjun notices. 

“Are you blushing from how good I look, doll?” his smirk, combined with the nickname sets you off, feeling the heat burn through your cheeks even more. 

“Shut up. How about we take a break?” You question, trying to distract you from the fact that you’re now ever so slightly turned on by his comment. 

With that, Yeonjun is slumped back on your couch, while you run to the kitchen, rummaging through your freezer trying to find an ice lolly to cool and calm you down. 

You discard the wrapper in the bin, taking the long stick of coloured ice in your mouth, sucking off the first layer is its juices. You moan at the feeling of the cold entering your mouth, as the ice begins to melt around it. Walking back to the living room, Yeonjun puts his phone down to look up at you, once again with a smile that has a mischievous allure plastered onto it. 

“Doll, you think you could suck a cock like that?” 

His remark has you pulling the ice lolly out your mouth instantly, making a pop as it comes out. Your jaw is left hanging as you feel the butterflies in your stomach travel up to your throat, leaving you speechless. 

He stand up and steps towards you ever so slowly that for some reason you wish he would go faster so he could be closer to you sooner. When he gets less than 2 feet away, you step back hitting the wall as his arms cage you, trapping you in his presence. His fingers wipe away the juice from your iced treat in one swipe as he takes it to his own mouth sucking off the liquid. Your eyes enlarge from the proximity and his actions, feeling the ice drop down your fingers as well as a wetness forming in between your legs. 

“I asked you a question. Do you think you could suck a cock like that?” 

“Mhmm…” you were only able to make a short sound while you nod your head, not shying away from his sharp gaze. 

“Why don’t you show me then, doll?” He caresses your hair before grabbing it into a tight ponytail and before you know it, you’re on your knees below him, almost seeming as if you were begging for his dick. 

With his free hand, he unbuttons his trousers letting them slip down his lean legs and as if on cue, you pull down his black boxers, his long cock springing out. Whilst he may have been an average on thickness, he definitely made up for it in length, so much so that you could already feel it hitting the tip of your cervix. 

“Come on doll, suck my pretty cock.” 

You begin by encapsulating just his tip in your mouth, letting the coldness from the ice transfer onto his hard length to which it reacts by twitching in your mouth as Yeonjun hisses. You slowly move up and down his shaft looking up at his face whilst doing so, meeting his eyes filled with lust. 

“You’re pretty mouth looks so good around my cock, doesn’t it, doll? Go faster.”

His grip on your hair tightens as he begins shoving his dick into your mouth as if on a rampage, tears falling from your eyes. His other hand grabs ahold of your chin, lifting it up further to better his view of what he was doing to you. Your moans vibrate against his cock, sending him into a high as he grunts with every pump. You feel him twitch in your mouth and before he can cum, he pulls out harshly, making the same pop as your ice lolly. Your sobs don’t stop even after he’s pulled out, craving to feel him more. Especially inside you. 

“Aww, is my doll crying because she wants me? I think I can help with that. Stand up,” he commands, his voice firm but flirty. His assurance only made him sexier at this present moment as much as you hated to admit it. 

Once you’re on your feet, he slams you back into the wall and pulls down your shorts in one swift move, revealing your white lace thong. 

“I knew my doll was a slut for me. Even if you hate to actually say it.” 

Your excuse was that you hadn’t done your laundry yet so you were left with your more extravagant pieces of lingerie but even you knew that deep down he was somewhat correct. 

You feel a sudden sensation as you feel Yeonjun’s lips attached to your neck, sucking under your ear, instantly having found your sweet spot. Melting under his magic touch, your hands automatically move around his neck, pulling him in closer, wanting to feel him more. 

“Yeonjun. Touch me please.” 

You were desperate for him and you hated it but with the puddle increasingly seeping through your underwear, you couldn’t care less, only wanting to feel him inside you. 

Yeonjun, strokes your clothed pussy, that being enough to send you off high, as you moan in his ears, humping his hands. 

“Such a slut for me, are you doll? Wonder what you’d be like if you had the real thing slamming into you?” 

And that’s exactly what he did. Pushing your thong to the side, he rams his cock in, not letting you adjust, pushing in and out of your pussy as he holds up your thigh, ensuring that he can hit into you deeper. With each thrust, you let out a sinful moan, as Yeonjun’s pride and ego skyrocket through the roof. As he picks up the pace he lifts you up, supporting you against the wall by holding up both your thighs. Even then, he didn’t slow down, continuing to slam his cock into you, abusing the top of your cervix over and over. 

“You’re so fucking hot, doll. Can’t wait to be cumming on you babe. Can’t wait to ruin you. You want that don’t you?” 

The way he thrusts has you feeling his cock all the way in your throat, making deep moans the only thing that come out your mouth. 

“Going dumb on my cock, doll? Such a slut aren’t you?” 

He rams into you even faster as you feel your orgasm getting closer. Your hole now sensitive as you feel the knot in your stomach build. 

“Yeonjun! I’m gonna cum!” You scream, wanting to reach your high. M

You let out one last moan as the orgasmix wave ripples through your entire body, leaving goosebumps on your skin. Yeonjun rides out your high before pulling out and pulling his own spurts of cum onto your T-shirt which you hasn’t removed. Your favourite black T-shirt was now stained with his cum, not knowing if a round of washing would help. 

You collapse as your legs were physically unable to hold you up but before you reach the ground, Yeonjun’s arms catch you, supporting your waist, helping you remain standing. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot. And you’re such a slut for me. If only I knew sooner. Would have fucked your brains out much sooner.” 

You finally fell. After 2 years of holding it back, you finally fell for Yeonjun’s charm and his lustful aura. Any sense of disappointment you would have felt was overridden with the fact that you had gotten the best sex of your life from this man you despise. 

[emmyrosee]

YALL BASED ON THIS VIDEO HERE IM SCREAMING-

-

It’s been hours since you’ve smiled at Rintaro.

Not since this morning when you left. He was home today, all day, left to watch your three year old, and be home to see your nine year old. You’d kissed the side of his nose, reminded him of some chores, and everything was fine for you to go out and do your own set of errands.

But to come home to a trash bag sitting outside of the door and not in the barrel that got emptied today?

Oh. Screw smiling.

There may have been a small argument that broke out once you told him, about how he assumed you’d take the trash out since you were leaving the house- of which you snapped that it’s not your responsibility to automatically take out the trash when you leave.

Your son, Akito, was only left to watch the chaos, setting up the console he and his father were about to play on.

“I forgot, okay!” He snaps, rolling his eyes. “I’ll take it out later, it’s fine!”

“It’s not fine!” You yell back. “The trash was already taken! It’s worthless at this point to do it!”

He looks like he’s about to say something back, but you see him bite his tongue. “Good choice,” you snarl. Leaving him and Akito, you make your way upstairs and into your bedroom where you get changed into something that doesn’t emit outside-world feeling. You take a quick shower, wash your face, and when you step out still angry, you’re quick to make a new game plan.

Once you’re done with your small dose of self care, you stomp into the kitchen for something to eat, hoping that it’ll help curb any further anger coming from you both.

Crackers and cheese, some little slices of fruit which you intend to pair with they jelly you got on your last visit to the city.

You grab the jar and with a deep, frustrated exhale, you grip the cover and try to twist.

When it doesn’t budge, you feel your eye twitch.

You try again, to no avail. You grab the nearest towel in an attempt to get a better grip. No dice.

You sigh, tossing the rag to the side before stalking your way into the living room, grimace etched on your face.

“Can you open this?” You ask, and just as Rintaro pauses the game and tosses his controller aside to reach for the jar, you slip right past him and pass it to Akito, who takes it in his hands to pop open the lid.

With a small grunt he manages to open the lid, passing you the jar with a small smile, “here, ma.”

“Thank you, handsome man,” you hum, blowing him a kiss and blowing a raspberry at Rintaro when you make your way back to the kitchen. There’s a pause of silence, a question you don’t quite catch from your son, and suddenly, you hear your husband jump up from the couch. You smirk. It doesn’t take long before feet quickly pound their way into the kitchen, and a disgruntled Rintaro stands, pouting, in the doorway.

“What. Was that about?”

You shrug softly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t give me that crap,” he says, brows furrowed in frustration. “You’re seriously going to use my own creation against me?”

“Your creation?” You scoff in disbelief. “First off, I don’t remember you carrying our two children around for nine damn months. Second of all, our children are not creations. They’re children.”

“Point one,” he begins, quickly walking over to you. “You were hot as fuck carrying around our spawn. Secondly? Last time I checked, our baby machines only worked when together.”

“Feral!” You snap, giving him a grossed out look before turning towards the snacks you’d been making. “Get the hell out of my kitchen, I don’t want you here- HEY!”

Before you can think, Rintaro reaches past you and grabs the jar of jam, quickly raising his arm above his head to get it out of your reach. You would’ve tickled him for it, but the jam was from a small business three cities over. And the fuckhead knew that, and you hate him for it.

“You’re such a pain!” You growl, making a jump for it. You barely come close. Your fingers wrap around his shoulder in an attempt to yank his arm down, but he tightens it up completely to make it immobile. You’re rendered completely helpless to your husbands cruelty.

“Akito!” You call your son in hopes for assistance, snarling up at your husband. Instantly, socked feet slip along the floor, and at the sight of his figure in the doorframe, Rintaro bears his teeth.

“Don’t help your mother, she has to learn a lesson!” He snaps.

You growl back, “don’t listen to your father, you and your sister’s snacks depend on it!” Akito’s green, confused eyes flick back and forth between you both, and if you weren’t so stubborn, you’d think about how absolutely hilarious this is.

Rintaro, in all his 185 cm glory, holding a damned jar of jam above his head, so much so a sliver of his side pokes out from his shirt, and you, crossing your arms childishly after making extreme reaches for the jar.

It’s ridiculous, it’s childish, and it’s perfect for your marriage.

Akito gnaws his lip, “I mean… Ma is the boss, dad-“

“If you scram, I’ll double your allowance this week.”

“Bye mom!”

With the last bit of hope you have, you watch as he skates his way back into the living room, eye twitching in annoyance. “Kaiya wouldn’t betray me like that!”

“She’s three, mom!”

“She’d still help!”

Left to your own pity, you once again make a reach for the jar, only for him to reel his arm back a little bit more. “Give me a break, I have snacks to make,” you say, voice pitched in annoyance and defeat.

“Tell me you won’t go to our son for husband jobs.”

“Tell me you’ll take out the trash when I tell you to!”

“I thought you were throwing it out!”

“Why would you not check!”

“I didn’t think I had to!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll check on your waking daughter,” Akito calls annoyed from the living room, the only thing breaking up your argument.

With a deep, exhausted breath, Rintaro slowly lowers his arm, though still keeping a slight distance between you. “Cant we both say we’re wrong?”

“I’m never wrong,” you snip.

“I know, but for the sake of waking our three year old up, please just cave with me. Please, baby. I’m-“

He’s cut off by your quick lunge for the jar. He yanks it out of the way, and you’re left chasing it like a dog with a treat. You do, however, hear your husband laugh, but it’s not the laughter of victory from a few moments ago.

It’s laughter of adoration.

“I will leave you.”

“Gotta get the jar first.”

You, once again, for the nth time in a row, make a reach for it, but this time, Rintaro’s free arm quickly wraps around your waist to encase you in a hug, and he leans you back into the most ridiculous dip you’ve ever been apart of. You can’t begin to fight your own laughter that bubbles past your lips, fingers instinctively gripping his collar for stability.

Once your titters are finished ringing in the air, he straightens you both up, relaxing as you thunk your head against his chest. The jar gets put down on the counter, and he kisses the crown of your head sweetly as his arms tug you close.

“You’re annoying,” you purr.

He chuckles, “I know.” He closes his eyes and gently breathes in your scent, “and I’m sorry about the trash my love. Even if I thought you took it out, I really should’ve just. Checked.” Long fingers gently smooth up your neck to gently massage the nape, and he hums as you melt like putty against him.

“Now it’s gonna sit,” you pout. “In the trash outside. And it’s gonna smell. And we’re gonna be the house with smelly ass trash.”

“I know,” he repeats, trying not to laugh at your concerns. “I’ll take care of it princess- and worst case scenario, I’ll write letters apologizing to the neighbors for our rotten trash.”

You snort softly against his collarbone as you continue to nuzzle closer, “I’m sorry I went to Akito to open my jar,” you confess, angling your head up at him. He smirks and leans down to capture your lips in a kiss, his hands moving up to cup your cheeks lovingly.

“You wanna know a secret?” He asks against your lips.

You hum in intrigue.

“I’m pissed because I tightened them all when you were in the shower, so you’d have to talk to me.”

“SERIOUSLY?”

[chrolloluvr]

Plsplspls do Adam and Mammon with a reader who behaves like a lovesick puppy and is always battling her eyelashes at them and gets all flustered when they flirt plsss 🙏🏻

Adam and Mammon w/ S/O who is lovestruck with them.

Note: I LOVE RJIS IDEA!!! ALSO WITH MY TWO FAVORITE MEN BY VIVZIE LIKE HELLO??

Female!Reader

Warnings: Touching, not proofread, but other than that nothing rlly!

Mammon 🕷️:

He would use this to his advantage. If he wants something from you, he had you wrapped around his fingers.

"Hey babe, yeah, so I need something from ya. You'll do this for me right? Aw, your such'a good girl."

He is so aware that his speech and accent give such a feeling to you. He finds you adorable.

But other than the obvious exploitation, he thinks its cute. Obviously, millions of other girls in Hell feel the same way as you, but he chose you.

But other than that, he loathes in the attention and innocent looks you give him.

He will physically flirt with you. He likes to ruffle your hair, play with your cheeks (both ass and face), ,and his favorite, forcing you to look up at him. He knows his affect on you is dangerously crazy, so he uses that to his advantage.

You feel butterflies in your stomach whenever you're around him, and his loud, obnoxious self. You love how dainty and feminine he makes you feel. You are like his princess, and he is your king. (technically that is true lol)

Because he isn't a traditional man per say, but he has a traditional view on women.

He will mentally flirt with you. He gives you a certain look:

He only does this when he wants to get you weak in the knees for him. Because he knows it works.

He will always tease you. He gets into your head like no other. When you are with him, it feels like no other man matters, it always circles back to him.

He loves the fact that you are obedient and behaved. He loathes in it. He thinks of you like a cute little puppy (that makes him no money whatsoever, but oh well.).

Verbally flirts with you. Well not necessarily always flirting, but thats what it feels like to you. Here are some things he will say to you:

"Hey babe, c'mere and sit on my lap, hurry up, we dont got all day!"

"Well don't you just look sweet, yeah? Are you tryin' to impress me or somethin'?"

"Cutie, go fetch daddy his wallet, yeah? Good girl, you deserve a little treat later, huh? You'd like that, would'nt ya'?"

Adam 🕊️:

Always brags about it. When talking to Lute or something, he will be like:

"Oh yeah fore sure. but y'know, y/n can just do that for me or whatever. Shes just like that."

He likes that you are obedient, but sometimes it crept him out, at least in the beginning. You were willing to do almost anything for him. He liked the premise, but it make him weary how much control he had over you.

But now? He uses it against you. He will have you do things for him, like paperwork, helping him clean himself, dressing him, kissing him on the cheek, etc.

He cant get enough of how you pamper him.

Praises you. He will call you a good girl, say your his princess, etc. In a way, they way him and Mammon praise you is very similar. The only difference, is that Adam is more reserved when it comes to praise in public, while Mammon is shameless. This is because he cares about his image in Heaven, and cant do too much under watchful eye.

Also gives you a face:

This man has such a devious grin, especially when he gets his way with you.

He does this face when he wants to rile you up. He knows he will too, since you are very compliant towards him, since he basically treats you like you two are married.

Also verbally flirts.

"Hey wifey- you look different today... did you do your hair or something? Looks hot."

"Hey babe can you do a favor for me and fetch me some water? Your the best babe, god."

"Aww you get embarrassed when your hubby pokes fun at you? Your such a snowflake babe, a cute little snowflake."

Touches you. He likes to tease your shy, pandering nature. So he likes to blow on your ear, come up behind you and pick you up, or just the occasional slap on the ass.

He loves how shy and embarrassed you become, so he will definitely enjoy continuing his antics.

[hysteria-things]

Can you make nsfw abcs with Matt and Chris separately please??

NSFW ALPHABET

read matt’s here

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i had a ball doing this LMAO

posting this and then a matt fic later today :)

hope you like it anon!

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

a lot of people say chris wouldn’t be the best at aftercare but i honestly disagree. he’ll do anything to make you feel comfortable and safe before he tends to his own needs.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

chris low-key likes his lips. wherever he kisses you he loves how perfect his lips feel on your body. (a bonus is his hair. he goes spiraling on the inside whenever you tug on it)

man loves your ass. the way it jiggles and shit at the slightest thing; muah chefs kiss. especially how it recoils when he’s taking you from behind.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

hates using condoms and will always cum inside you. you’re obviously on birth control, but also have extra plan b’s just in case. will admire the way it oozes out of you, always thinking about how hot you look with his cum inside you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

will never admit this but he enjoys it when you “tease” him in public; aka doing normal things and getting turned on by it. you can simply bend down to get something off a shelf or lean against him in crowded areas and bro is bricked up.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

definetly has like two bodies before you. although, sex comes naturally to him, and knows what he’s doing.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

LOVES LOVES LOVES BACKSHOTS. argue with the wall.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

leans more toward serious but if you guys aren’t really going at it he’ll pop a joke here and there.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

keeps it trimmed very nicely. the thought of being clean shaven will make him feel bald.

he really doesn’t give a fuck if you have hair or not. as long as the pussy is fire he’s not complaining!

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

will make out with you until you can’t breathe. especially if his brothers are home, he’ll make sure to keep you quiet by having you moan in his mouth instead.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

if he’s away on tour or a vacation, he has no problem pulling up the videos you guys took in his my eyes only.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

dumbification and breeding. it honestly turns him on even more when you can’t speak and all you can think about is his dick buried inside you. gives him motivation because he’s the only one that can do that to you and he wants to make sure you know it.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

either the bed or anywhere there’s a surface. a desk or counter, for example. he loves bending you over taking you right there.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

the sounds you make. your moans and squeals are like music to his ears and that alone can send him over the edge in minutes.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn-offs)

THREESOMES. would rather die than share you with anybody else; he’s too protective over you for that.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

a mixture of both, but likes giving a little more. will always be up for a blowjob, but whenever he eats you out it’s still for his pleasure. he’ll thrust his pelvis into the mattress to get some friction. skill-wise, let’s just say he knows the spots that will make your eyes roll back and legs shake.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

fast and rough for sure. his mission will be to wreck your body. however, if you guys are having sleepy sex then he’ll go slow and sensual.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

will do them anywhere anytime. at a party? he’ll take you to the bathroom. at a clothing store? to the dressing room, you’ll go.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

if you want to try something new, he’ll be down to do it. if there’s something you guys try and don’t like, then it’ll never happen again. he’s glad you guys tried it out either way.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he wishes he could do like five but in reality, he can do two. although, he can last for a while until you’re completely satisfied.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he doesn’t own any but you do. so when you guys are at your house, he’ll use the vibrator on you. it’s pretty rare when you do it though because he likes to do the pleasuring. not some toy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

will tease you just to mess with you and make you mad. he finds it funny when you cross your arms and huff at him, but the teasing will be worth it in the end.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

dirty talks A LOT, but when he’s not he’ll grunt every time he thrusts back into you. he will let a whimper slip if you clench out of nowhere and it throws him off guard.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

will take in how perfect you wrap around his cock. his jaw will slack as he watches himself pump in and out of you, especially if you cum and it starts to drip down his shaft.

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

he’s big 100%, but more girthy than lengthy. in every picture i’ve seen, he’s always had a bulge.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

chris is a horndog 25/8. you could be driving back to your house and he’ll call you to have you turn around.

“i’m horny again.”

“i JUST left???”

“sorry.”

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

bro knocks the fuck out LMAO he’ll see if you need anything afterward, but he’s half asleep when he asks.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx

[dqrciedaily]

baby arsenal, arsenal wfc x teen!reader

a/n: y/n is so younger me coded minus the fact that she is german

also promise more fics coming soon x

-

y/n y/l/n, the sixteen year old rising star of not only the german national team but also arsenal women's football club, had seamlessly transitioned from the bustling streets of cologne to the vibrant city of london. her two older brothers, max and louis, had started her passion for football from a young age, sculpting her into the strong defender she was today. they always had her in the garden with them having a kick about before urging their father to let her go for trials at the local club, which deemed to be extremely successful.

arsenal had scouted y/n whilst she was playing for fc köln. three weeks later her and her parents were signing papers and organising living arrangements as well as the school situation. they settled on her living with lia as well as her attending the local school in the area.

as the first initial weeks passed, her once shy demeanor melted away, replaced by a vibrant personality that charmed everyone around her. she had also very quickly picked up the name ‘baby arsenal’ from fans and soon her teammates had started calling her that too. kyra and y/n had almostly instantly became friends, pulling y/n out of her nonexistent shell within two weeks, along with victoria, teyah and laura, y/n settled in quickly.

one friday evening, y/n found herself invited to a party by her school friends. eager to fit in with the english teenage life she hastily accepted. embracing the opportunity to get to know her new friends in a different environment, as well as allowing herself to fully relax since moving to the foreign country.

ignoring the cold english weather, y/n slipped on one of her favourite backless black dresses and a pair of her friend’s high heels, that her long legs definitely weren’t accustomed to. many pre drinks later they arrived at the party at nine pm, the minute the group of girls arrived at the party they were straight into the open arms of their other friends. music was blaring as y/n slowly let herself relax, she couldn’t even remember how many new people she had met.

however, the temptation of the party proved too intoxicating, the drinks flowed freely, and before she knew it, the world was slowly tilting on its axis, spinning out of control as she succumbed to the intoxicating haze. the party deemed to be a bit boring now that it had reached past eleven pm, so on her unsteady feet y/n managed to walk out the party and onto the side walk. with her vision blurred and her balance faltering, she fumbled for her phone and dialed kyra’s number, interrupting what was supposed to be a cozy game night for the rest of the team.

"ky! oh my goodness i can’t believe you picked up, i have so much to tell you!” y/n giggled into the phone, "there were like so many pretty girls here tonight and i’m bloody freezing over here. i also had so many drinks! oh and I can't get home. oh and have i ever old you how much i love you! ich liebe dich ky ky…"

throughout the phone call kyra switched it onto speakerphone meaning that everyone could hear the state y/n was in. without hesitation, steph, one of y/n’s self-appointed team mums sprang into action. definitely breaking some speed limits as she rushed to y/n’s location, she found her disoriented but relieved to see she was still standing. quickly getting out the car she wrapped an arm around her guiding her to the

upon their arrival back to lia’s house, leah, kim, lia, beth and steph gathered around y/n, their concern evident in their expressions. "y/n," kim began, her voice gentle yet firm, "you can’t be going around getting drunk, especially at sixteen! what were you thinking?" but before kim’s rant could continue leah placed a hand on the skippers shoulder, “you're young, and we understand that, but you have to be responsible, especially considering the position you're in.” kim nodded her head in agreement before saying, “you're part of this team now, and that means holding yourself to a higher standard than this.”

with a deep breath, she nodded in acknowledgment, her resolve hardening with each passing moment. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "i'll do better, i promise."

with that kyra, stina and laura lead her upstairs. the high heels long forgotten in the hallway as steph urged her to take them off after watching her stumble around in them. laura mumbled soothing words in german as she slipped an oversized t-shirt over y/n’s head, letting the dress fabric pool at her ankles. stina handed laura shorts for her whilst kyra rummaged around in the bathroom for makeup remover.

with tender care, kyra removed the remnants of makeup on her face, before stina tucked her into bed with gentle hands. laura laid the dress over the back of her desk chair as y/n’s eyelids drooped with exhaustion, her body finally catching up with the events of the evening as she sank into the embrace of her plush duvet.

kyra brushed a stray lock of hair from y/n’s forehead, with a final exchange of reassuring smiles kyra, stina and laura bid her goodnight, their footsteps fading into the distance as they left her to sleep. alone in the quiet of her room, y/n closed her eyes, a sense of peace washing over her as sleep overcame her senses.

but just as she began to drift into slumber, a soft knock sounded at her door, and lia entered, her face lit up by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. In her hands she carried a glass of water and a small packet of tablets, her expression one of concern and care.

"here you go, y/n/n," lia said softly, her voice a whisper in the stillness of the room. "drink this, and take these tablets. they'll help with the headache in the morning." she sat down on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on y/n’s leg, rubbing soothing circles on it. “they’re not mad at you i promise maus. let’s just keep the drinking on the cool for now, okay?”

y/n accepted the water and tablet with a grateful nod, as lia got up to leave the room she turned off the bedside table before whispering “schlaf gut maus.” the door closing behind her, the room going pitch dark allowing y/n to finally drift to sleep.

[the-doomed-witch]

SHOWER THOUGHTS

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader (no pronouns used)

Summary: Wanda just kinda ✨punishing✨ you

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY; MINORS+MEN DNI. not proof read. masturbation, exhibitionism but like in private?, top!wanda, degradation, kind of praise?, shower sex, heavy orgasm control, vibrators, oral (r receiving), fingering (both), etc etc you get all that. this is smutty

Author’s Note: well anyways hi i randomly had a ✨thot✨ about the shower thing, hope you like it ;)) besides, wanda with nipple piercings 🤤

(gif credits to creator)

MASTERLIST // NAVIGATION // REQUESTS CLOSED

— ✦ —

The absence of Wanda was frustrating. Whenever she was off to work related trips, she always left with you begging for more. “Don’t touch yourself when mommy is away, okay baby?” she says, every single time before she leaves. And you nod like an obedient pup. So you are used to it all.

But it was different this time, she’d been gone for too long a trip. The heat between your thighs has been throbbing for days now. And today, it’s time for her to return.

Unfortunately for you, her flight has been delayed, and she’s gonna take a few more hours to arrive. You, a fully frustrated and wild driven person, had to wait another 6 hours for Wanda to come and take care of you.

It can’t be hard, a bit of dry humping here and there at every given instance should work for a few hours. Except it clearly doesn’t.

You do your everyday tasks, trying to distract the tingling sensation underneath. Fuck, it’s hard to even walk around in the supermarket. You go back home and lay down on the bed, try to sleep, and whatnot.

You estimate about 2 hours before Wanda reaches home, so your hands instinctively reach the belt around your waist, unlocking the buckle. The pants go down, and along goes the black lace you specifically picked out for the day.

Gently goes first finger in, then goes the second. Insert a third one, and you’re panting heavily. It’s not even close to the magic of Wanda’s hands. Wanda’s hands. Oh. You daydream of her fingering you instead of yourself. Soft, little moans and pants.

“Guess who hasn’t been a good girl for mommy.” you suddenly hear a familiar voice and freeze in your actions, fingers still deep inside of you. A part of you is overly excited to see her after more than a week, the other part is scared of all the things she would be doing to you just because of this.

“M-mommy I was so tired. I’m so sorry.”

“We’ll get to that later. But first, let me see how you fuck your dumb self honey. Move your fingers, show mommy what she’s taught you.”

You shift your position in bed to give her a better view of it all, legs spreading wider and wider. The wet sloshing sounds fill the bedroom when you thrust your fingers in and out of the pussy, as Wanda enjoys the show.

As your moans grow louder, she grabs your wrist and holds it in place. The sudden loss of pace made you shudder from head to toe. “Mommy!” you scream out loudly.

“What? You thought you could come despite not following my orders? You thought mommy wouldn’t punish you? What a whore.”

Her hand reaches your neck, holding you in place as she climbs on the top. Slowly, she bends down and captures your lips in a deep kiss. She then pulls away and caresses your forehead with her other hand, whispering, “I missed you, detka, so much. Care to take a shower with me? I could really use a hot shower today.” With a strained voice, you mumble a yes.

— ✦ —

She pulled your wet naked body against hers, behind you. Taking the handheld shower in her hands, she held it against your throbbing cunt. It felt fucking good, but the pressure was shaking your entire body.

“Tell mommy you’re sorry for touching the pussy that belongs to her.”

“I’m s-o-sorry, mommy. I promise I won’t do this again.”

“Say it again.” So you repeat it. “Tell me that this pussy belongs to me and me only.” The pressure of the water had left you incapable of speech. You pause for a moment and stutter, “Th-” Before any other word comes out of your mouth, she sets it to full speed. God.

“Say it, bitch. Or do you want me to punish you?” she pinches your right nipple hard and you let out an animalistic moan. Your back arches, as you keep a grip on the tiled bathroom wall and the fogged glass on the other side to stop yourself from falling down. “This p-pussy is all y-yours, mommy. N-no one else’s.”

“Good.” she speaks in a sultry voice against your earlobe. Her right hand is completely focused on ruining your cunt with just a hand shower, and the other is gripping your body. You can feel her wet tits behind you, along with their piercings.

She moves your slick hair out of her way and starts leaving bite marks all over your shoulders, collarbone, neck, and back. With each bite, you let out more and more shrieks. It all comes down to you asking permission to come, and her denying it.

She places the shower back and you arch at the loss of all the friction. “Let mommy play a little more.” she says, and you submit once again.

Throughout the steamy shower, besides relaxing herself, her hands glided along your whole body. She would grab your breasts, chin, waist, neck. Occasionally, she inserted a digit inside of you, and pulled out immediately. You would take it all just as she wanted, sometimes holding her tits and nibbling on her piercings, too.

It was a pleasing torture till she brought you back inside the bedroom, wrapped in a towel.

Wanda tells you to lay down on the bed. So you do, and spread yourself all over, finally excited for her to get rid of the burning sensation you’ve been feeling down there. She rummages through a drawer, searching for a nice toy for her to use.

Back to the bed, she brings a vibrator. “Aw honey, look at you, so needy that your legs are so apart. Why don’t you have some patience? Let mommy take care. I’m gonna tie your hands now, okay?” and here you nod like a pup yet again.

She ties your hands behind you, and makes you sit up. She sits opposite to you, and turns on the toy. Finally, you think, it’s the moment. She licks its head seductively till it’s drenching in her saliva before she places it on her own folds. “M-mommy-”

“Not now baby, mommy wants a good time for herself. You can watch her come, and maybe get to taste it if you’re good.”

Wanda’s moans are heavy, as she tortures her clit with the toy. Her legs tremble, trying to close in but she keeps them apart for you to see. The second you moan at the sight of her, she comes hard, making a mess on the bed.

She shifts her body, and rubs all of her cunt against yours till you are covered in her juices. Your now oversensitive body gives in and you come against her. She pulls you into a deep intense kiss as you both grind against each other. Drops of sweat roll down her face as she tries hard not to break eye contact with you.

Her hands grab the vibrator again, and she places it between the two of you. As if drinking your screams down, she holds you in for a kiss for longer than you could keep it. You come again, and when her fingers find their way in, you do it once again.

— ✦ —

“Mommy please. No more… hurts.”

“One small taste would do, baby? Can I taste you once again? Just a lick, I promise.”

“Mmhmm”

She goes down, and tastes your messy cunt, humming as she eats you out. You twitch at her nibbling on your folds. Your hands grab her auburn hair to pull her head away, but your thighs close in on her. You release yourself undone all over her face yet again. She gets back up, placing her lips against your lips softly, letting her tongue give you a taste of yourself.

She doesn’t stop soon, but when she does, your entire body is quivering and so is hers.

“Fuck Wanda, that was so… so fucking hot.”

“Oh Y/N… you don’t know how fucking needy I’ve been for as long as I’ve been away. I needed you so bad-” Looking at her state, she hasn’t clearly finished yet. You begin pumping your fingers in and out of her rapidly. Her head rises up as her chest contracts and expands with her puffs. She repeats, “Oh goodness- so bad.”

Her lips once again clash against your in a sloppy kiss, she’d been obviously desperate but hesitated to show it, unlike you.

“Wans, I love you so much. I’ll be a good girl next time, I promise.”

“Oh malyshka, you are a good girl to me. You’re my good girl.”

[back2bluesidex]

Bus Ride - KNJ (18+)

Pairing: School Teacher!Namjoon X School Teacher, Fem! Reader

Theme: smut, fluff, coworkers to lovers au.

Wordcount: 1.2k+

Summary: Namjoon has a massive crush on his coworker and it takes all his self control to survive a bus-ride with her.

Warnings: SMUT, pwp but not really, grinding on each other in a bus full of students, protected sex, shy Namjoon, confident reader. NSFW!!

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

Namjoon has always had a massive crush on you. 

First of all, you are too beautiful for your own good. Those big doe eyes, those pretty lips, those full cheeks, and that damned smile have caught his eyes from the first time when you walked into the staff room. 

But what got him absolutely smitten with you, was your wit and your confidence that make you way too sexy to resist. 

He still remembers that debate competition (arranged for the teachers), when you outwitted him within 5 minutes of the discussion. 

That was, well, the first time he ever lost a debate. However, he wasn’t sad or embarrassed to lose to a junior teacher. Rather he was overjoyed as you walked to him at the end of the competition and thanked for being a tough opponent. 

That was the moment when he felt butterflies in his stomach with a subtle lightheadedness and warmth on his cheeks. 

But… 

He has never felt how he is feeling right now. 

The school had a field trip today and everything was going fine until the very last moment when he, you and all the other teachers got to know that the bus (which was meant for teachers) had broken down. 

So the teachers had to split up and get crammed inside already crowded buses filled with loud students. 

He got into a bus only to find you already waiting inside. 

You smiled up at him politely and said “there is no seat left. Guess we’ll have to stand all the way to home” in a very soft voice, raising goosebumps all over his skin.

He tried so hard to hide the rosy hue of his cheeks and muttered a little “I guess so” but he isn't sure if you have caught him or not. 

But that’s not the point here! 

The point is that he is, now, in a very compromising position. 

Your body is pressed tightly on his, your back to his firm sturdy chest, your ass to his crotch. 

The bus ride is of an hour, 32 minutes of which have passed. And within these 32 minutes, your position of standing beside him somehow changed into you standing right before him. 

He is not blaming you, he blames the continuous jerks and not-so-smooth town roads. 

He could have removed himself from his position long ago but the way your body feels against his, is way too delicious of a feeling. 

For most of the part it was fine but right now, things are getting a little too difficult.

And hard.. Such as his cock. 

Your ass looks so plump, so round through the material of your dress-skirt that he couldn’t resist himself when you absentmindedly brushed it on his crotch. 

That’s how it started and now he is hard beyond his imagination. 

And he knows you feel it too. 

What if you think he is a pervert and accuse him of sexual abuse later on? He should definitely move away but he just can’t. 

The smell of your hair, the warmth radiating through your body, and the pressure of your hips are way too alluring. 

But no! 

Come back to your senses, Namjoon! He tells himself as he slowly tries to move away from you. 

Just then you roll your hips once more, this time grinding directly on his bulge. 

Fuck! Are you trying to kill him or what? 

He groans a little, trying not to wake up the tired and sleeping students. 

“Mr. Kim” he hears you addressing him. His heart beats erratically inside his chest. 

“Hmm?” he asks. 

“You are… hard.” you whisper, rolling your hips on his clothed cock once more. 

“Fuck” he curses right beside your ears and you repeat your actions. 

“What are you trying to do, Y/N?” he places another question for you.

“Riling you up, probably?” you smirk, turning your head to meet his eyes. 

Your eyes are hazy with lust, just as his. 

He grabs your side with one of his hands while the other stays on the support-bar. 

Squeezing your sides a little, he thrusts up.  

The friction is delicious and he can just go on like this for the rest of the bus ride. And the sweet low sounds that you are making, are leveling up the sensession even more. 

“Teacher, when will we reach?” a male student asks all of sudden, interrupting your dirty deeds. 

And then Namjoon is detaching himself from your body, looking at his watch and telling the student that they are about to reach in less than 10 minutes. 

As soon as the student closes his eyes again, Namjoon drags his lips right beside your ear and says, “we should not do this.” 

“Yes. you are right.” you reply. 

“Thanks for walking me home.” you smile at your colleague cum crush, Kim Namjoon. 

He smiles back. Under the fluorescent light of your porch, he appears to be even more beautiful. 

His dimpled cheeks, shy smile, tall figure and those goddamn thighs always send your mind in overdrive. 

And as a result, you ended up grinding on his cock in a bus full of students. Not that he was innocent either but still you feel a little embarrassed now. It’s better to apologize to avoid getting awkward with each other later on. 

So you say, “I am sorry for my behavior on the bus earlier.” 

“What- no! Don’t apologize. I was just as desperate if not more.” he mumbles, staring at the ground, “and honestly, this was the best bus ride I have ever had.” 

That’s all. That’s what you needed to hear. 

As long as those words leave his mouth, you are running towards him and locking his lips with yours. 

He kisses back instantly. His hands find the expanse of your ass, groping and squeezing it as much as he likes. 

It is a struggle to walk inside the house being tangled with each other, but you get it done. And then your clothes are flying everywhere, so are his. 

When you both fall on the couch, both of you are naked. 

You feel upset for not getting to fuck him raw when he rolls the condom on his giant cock. And when he pushes the tip inside your cunt and kisses your ear, you feel ten thousand emotions all at the same time. 

His thrusts are rough and hard, your walls squeeze him hard making him cum before you. But he doesn’t stop from pulling out your orgasm. 

He slips on his knees and dives down into your heated core for a taste. By sucking, licking and biting on your clit, he pulls out the best orgasm you have ever had. You cum on his tongue. 

“Have I ever told you how much I like you?” he says when he slips into the covers beside you on your bed. 

“No you didn’t but you were obvious enough for me to know.” you smile, placing a peck on his lips. 

“Shit! Really?” his eyes go wide. 

“Yeah. Mr. Kim and apparently you were blind too! You never got all the hints I have been leaving here and there. It took a field trip, a broken bus and a bus ride for you to be here!”

He laughs at this, holding you close to him and catching you in yet another mind numbing kiss.  

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie

[conflictofthemind]

Montauk, The Project Rainbow, and Experiments in Time

It’s fairly common knowledge that Stranger Things is based on Montauk. The unfortunate part is that Montauk has been attributed to another ‘vaguely MK-ULTRA mind control related side project’ and not the big narrative that it is, with details incredibly close to plot points in Stranger Things that resulted in an attempted lawsuit years back. Montauk does not just set the general ‘spooky scientific experiments on kids’ tone for ST - it is the backbone of the whole lore. 

‘The Montauk Project’ Book / Conspiracy explained simply is that the US government unofficially experimented on humans with ‘great psychic ability’ to allow their psychic brain waves to interact with the normal electromagnetic waves of our world. The end goal being manifesting thoughts into reality, and opening up wormholes in time. This would give the military great advantage and potentially control over the outcomes of war. It then turns out the whole narrative of Montauk occurs within a time loop from 1943-1983, when the disappearance of a ship called the USS Eldridge opened up a wormhole which was connected with by a research subject in 1983. The time loop is self-causing - the entire reason the Montauk experiments take place are to further study the events that occurred on this ship, but part of the reason the ship disappears is because of the Montauk Project. Due to all of the other time travel references within the series - trust, we will get into those - this leads me to believe it’s very unlikely there isn’t time travel / a time loop involved. Here I hope to posit the basic information about Montauk/The Philadelphia Project, how the powers work within ST, Will’s clear involvement in all of it, and the time travel element. 

Ahahaha why does that look like a bowl-cut…

Let’s put this out of the way first: the idea that Montauk/Philadelphia is the direct inspiration for the show is not based on flimsy grounds. The original series the Duffers planned to make was going to be an actual retelling of Duncan Cameron’s (think El and Henry - main research subject of Montauk) story. This was later changed to become the story we know today with the characters we know today, although with different names and the title remaining Montauk. Some of the characters had names from Montauk too… like Mr. Clarke being Mr. Nichols. I’ll save that for a later post. The entire design of HNL is based off of the ‘Camp Hero’ / Montauk lab with the iconic banana-shaped radar disk. El’s Void ability comes from the ‘Seeing Eye’ power Duncan has in Montauk, where focusing on a personal item belonging to a person lets him see into their mind. The research subjects’ power is amplified by white noise and a sensory deprivation chamber - again, seen with El. 

The Rainbow Ship and the Electromagnetic Connection:

The Electromagnetic Spectrum is usually mentioned at least a little in every season. Joyce’s magnets falling off, El needing the radio, etc. Lights are another focus, with the kids in the Rainbow Room being tested on how they can manipulate lightbulbs, and the emphasis on lights flickering whenever powerful forces are being used or the Upside Down is interfering with Hawkins. I expect them to really start pushing it in Season 5, and we can already see evidence of this (below: the WSQK Squawk Van). They’re at a radio station, the Middle School kids are learning about light from Scott Clarke most likely, and you can see the abundance of rainbows everywhere. It’s my opinion that rainbows and light are the mechanism in which these gates open, and also when at high enough power, how time can become warped. ‘Project Rainbow’ is another title basically interchangeable with the USS Eldridge and Philadelphia Project. This was because “the mechanism involved was the generation of an incredibly intense magnetic field around the ship, which would cause refraction or bending of light or radar waves around the ship”. However as we remember, this had the unintended effect of teleporting the ship across space-time. In the ST Universe, this results in the Eldridge being teleported to Dimension X temporarily (without a gate being opened).

The eagle shoots out beams of a rainbow which are meant to represent the radio waves being broadcast. 

It’s a commonly asked question as to how Will ‘blinked’ out of that shed without a gate, considering only El was able to open them at that time. The close-up on the lightbulb is the last shot we see before he just vanishes. It’s not just powers interfering with the surrounding electricity; this bending of light is what took him to the UD. But when this happens, it doesn’t result in a gate. I also believe this will end up being the mechanism for the eventual time-travel plot we’ll be seeing. Again in Montauk, there is a ‘time-tunnel’ made between the Eldridge and 1983 Montauk that was caused by the disappearance. My original post investigating this was me hypothesizing that being able to bend light to travel faster than it could result in temporary anomalies that allow one to time travel. 

Anyway, back to the rainbows. Rainbows are one of the most common recurring symbols in Stranger Things. The Rainbow Room exists of course, and there’s a deliberate costuming choice, especially in later seasons with the brighter atmosphere, to have characters wearing rainbow patterned items. Holly’s room is full of rainbows, and there are multiple rainbow props scattered around other locations (Mike’s basement, Erica’s room, etc). Scott Clarke (seriously what is up with him) is introduced in Season 1 doing a lesson on ROYGBIV. The BTS pictures of S5 Hawkins Middle School have him teaching yet another lesson on the visible light spectrum. And space for some reason. This brings us back to the Rainbow Ship.  Now we know the USS Eldridge is a marine ship, not a spaceship. But for the characters who seem to have some connection to it, it is represented as one regardless.

Will drew something representing the USS Eldridge (which it is mentioned was not from a movie i.e. he came up with it using his own memory and mind). The main fixture of Henry’s playground, where a ‘significant’ memory took place also features this representation of the Eldridge. I suspect there might also be a larger reason it took the form of a spaceship, but for now, consider that the ST Universe’s version of aliens are the Demogorgons. And outer space is Dimension X. The ship ‘flew’ to ‘outer space’ (D-X) and encountered ‘aliens’. In Montauk, that is kind of what happens. It’s more metaphorical in Stranger Things. The comic book Henry is obsessed with in TFS is seemingly changed from the real life Captain Midnight who was an airplane pilot, to be an astronaut. I think there is some kind of “alien abduction” theme with both Henry and Will being suddenly transported to another dimension that is alien in itself. Even when the lab scientists enter the UD in the first few seasons, they use hazmat suits that are deliberately similar looking to spacesuits. Stranger Things is a story about UFOs and aliens that also isn’t exactly about UFOs and aliens. 

And then, I’ll mention the weirdest part of this all - Will knows about the Eldridge somehow. And he knew about it before he was ever kidnapped and attached to the hive-mind. 

This is either possible because 1) he was in fact involved in research projects at HNL, and maybe the Project Indigo before the age of 8 like the original “rainbowshipgate” suggests. Or 2), there is an element messing with time in this situation, just like in the original Montauk book series. Montauk is literally named ‘Experiments in Time’. They’ve nabbed Linda Hamilton from Terminator (a movie about time travel) for this final season. They’re referencing a Wrinkle in Time with the Episode 6 title and Holly plot. Then we have everything else involving Henry’s clock theming that hasn’t exactly explained itself yet. Thinking time travel is a far-fetched idea at this point is a bit ridiculous. 

It really depends on how crazy they go with the whole concept. One of the other main characters from Montauk I haven’t mentioned yet is Al Bielek. Al Bielek was the original “whistleblower” who came forward with his story after supposedly recovering his repressed memories of the events. He claims to have been on the crew of the USS Eldridge in a previous life as Edward Cameron, Duncan Cameron’s brother. When he was sent forward in time he ended up staying in 1983 whereas Duncan Cameron was effectively sent back to where he came. Very confusing. But the story is, the man’s a time traveler. 

I do wonder if Al Bielek is loosely the inspiration for Will’s part in the story. Will who has seemingly repressed memories of many points in his life and has been suggested to be a time traveler many times. His name appears on the grandfather clock. He wears Marty McFly’s outfit in the first season. He has knowledge of an event that happened in 1943. He has lines about “seeing into the future” and Mike calls him a time-traveler in the VR Game where the writing staff had access to scripts and a writer from the show. The Upside Down is stuck on “the day of Will’s disappearance” (in the Duffers’ words), though that one probably has a slightly simpler explanation. 

The exact mechanics of how that would work are unclear. Right now, as young as an eight year old Will needs to have the knowledge of the Eldridge - so this isn’t something he will only end up connecting with this season. My theory is that there is a time loop involved, and Will’s actions in the future of Season 5 have him interfere in some way with the 1943 Philadelphia Project / Project Rainbow. The time loop is cyclical and self-causing. Our Will Byers already has a past iteration in yet another timeline where he already went back and tried to interfere with the past (and likely died trying in 1943). Then he is reborn again in 1971, and awakes a very small portion of his past memories of the previous loops. If that doesn’t make sense, I created this handy-but-ugly flowchart to help you out: 

Basically there is no beginning, since the future causes the past and vice versa (a bootstrap paradox). Every Will would then have memories of a past self(selves). The time loop also gets more complicated than this. Did Henry create the mindflayer? It’s presented like that within the show, but let me remind you that shows with heavy mystery elements can and will purposely deceive you. In the First Shadow, Mr. Newby is attacked by the Mindflayer and produces a drawing of the entity - it’s purposely not shown to the audience, but considering the Mindflayer was supposedly just a black mass then why is that? And regardless, in order to have Henry become possessed by it, the Mindflayer was definitely not created by him in 1979. A few have written up theories about this already, I’ll link to my friend's two posts on this element of the time loop.  

I don't have anything else super definitive yet. But I believe wholeheartedly that this is the right direction to search in and I hope we can put more attention on the subject. All of this makes sense, from the military connections they keep pushing in the show, the time travel hints we have been getting, the origin story of Brenner (whose dad died aboard the ship) and the Rainbow Room, everything ties back to the Eldridge events being incredibly incredibly important going forward.

Here's a link where you can read through Montauk Experiments in Time for free.

[megumimania]

THINKING BOUT YOU— gojo satoru

synopsis: whilst in a meeting about megumi’s conduct, gojo’s mind seems to be focused on one thing, you.

warnings: dad!gojo, gojo satoru x fem!reader, megumi having to put up with gojo’s bs, fluff, gojo being a shameless flirt, gojo attempting to be a concerned parent

“this is stupid.” huffed a 13 year old megumi.

megumi wasn’t here on his own volition of course as this was the doing of his annoying guardian gojo satoru. ever since he found out you were megumi’s teacher he’d been bribing megumi to get into trouble at school so he’d have a reason to come and see you.

“oh megumi this isn’t stupid, remember what i promised if you played your part?” he asked with a mischievous look in his eyes.

megumi knew that gojo had him hook line and sinker. he cursed himself for showing a semblance of a smile when they walked past the pet store last week.

“fine but don’t get in a mood when she turns you down.” he replied with a sass that gojo dismissed as typical teenage angst, something he was all too familiar with.

megumi politely knocked on your classroom door sparing no time for gojo to prepare his little act. “megumi, come take a seat.” you beckoned him in noticing the little scratch on his cheek that made you slightly concerned.

his tall white haired guardian followed in shortly after, taking the seat opposite you. “i’m really glad you could make it today gojo-san.” you addressed him politely, reaching over to shake his hand as you’d do with any other parent.

his hand lingered on yours for a second longer as he gazed into your eyes with such an intensity it made megumi sick. he was really pulling out all the stops for you wasn’t he?

“there’s no need for the formalities when we’re practically the same age.” he pointed out with a charming smile, letting your hand go in the process.

your cheeks were practically aflame as you tried to retain some sense of self control. “oh right…um. megumi.” you nodded at megumi who looked like he’d rather the ground swallow him whole than watch this interaction play out.

you expressed your concern over megumi’s behaviour and something about a report. gojo was half listening, half not. he was more preoccupied with staring at you with not a single ounce of shame. even behind those spectacles his gaze was intense making you lose focus at some points.

“…this is megumi’s third fight in the last two weeks.”

a sharp kick from under the desk by megumi jolted him back to earth. gojo winced in pain as megumi looked on as if nothing happened. he made a mental note to embarrass the hell out of megumi later.

you were unaffected by the silent altercation going on in front of you. despite megumi’s disdain towards his guardian it seemed like he rubbed off on him a little bit. their mannerisms were eerily similar that if it wasn’t for the physical differences, they could’ve easily passed for siblings.

“if this was any other student this would be an immediate suspension but megumi is a stellar student and we don’t think he would benefit from that at all.”

gojo let out a sigh of relief.

as much as he loved being around megumi, he could admit that he did not have the time nor the facilities to teach him whilst he was at home. in his defence he was too busy carrying the jujutsu world on his back, which was a gruelling task in of itself.

he slapped his knee an indicator that he was ready to grab megumi and go home. he ushered megumi outside, telling him to wait for him in the car to which a disgruntled megumi surprisingly did. as soon as he left, gojo jumped on your desk.

his sapphire blue eyes trained on you, watching you mark your students essays with a furrow in your brow that he desperately wanted to smooth away.

ah how he knew the pains of marking essays all too well, with panda's and toge's essays being the ones he usually offloaded to other staff when they wasn't looking.

“how did i do?” gojo asked, his voice like honey to your ears.

the classroom was now tinted with a pinkish orange hue as the sun started to set, casting shadows in the classroom. “megumi’s a smart kid, he probably knows now with how obvious you were.” you responded, trying to not loose this mgroove you were in

“i wasn’t being that obvious.” gojo grumbled to himself. he knew damn well he was being obvious as hell but didn’t want to admit it, the irony of his remark making you scoff.

"seriously?" you gave him a deadpan stare. gojo's whole existence was the epitome of obviousness: his striking looks, his cursed technique, his lineage, hell even his personality was far from discreet. however he still maintained his defense.

"megumi is a smart kid but at the end of the day he's still a kid. he probably thinks I was just being a bit too full on." he drummed his fingers against the desk and you laughed at his delusion.

in the short time you knew megumi, you already established that he was an incredibly smart and perceptive kid, even for someone his age.

“stop doubting him.” and that was a tough pill for gojo to swallow, it was easier to pretend that megumi was like every kid in the world than accept the fact that soon he’ll have his childhood robbed from him.

that he would be forced to grow up and become essentially a child soldier for an invisible group of elders and clan leaders, fighting battles that will scar him for life. being a sorcerer was a thankless job but thank god the pay was decent.

gojo decides that he’s not going to bore you with his late night worries about megumi, after all they were his own worries sto bear.

“i’ll think about it more once you’ve given me a kiss.” he teases, his eyebrows wiggling as he closes his eyes and puckers up. you snort at his childish behaviour as you eventually cave in, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

you pull away as a camera clicks from behind you, a blinding white flash, forcing you to blink away the light. megumi looked smug as hell, finally enjoying the first time he’s successfully managed to one up gojo. the childlike glee in his typical sullen expression being the one that gojo desperately wanted to protect.

“you little…” gojo took off after that not bothering to finish his sentence, busy chasing megumi down the hallway outside into the car park where your back window conviently faced.

gojo now had megumi in a headlock much to the dismay of their driver, who honestly looked so worn out and so over their nonsense. gojo’s long arms desperately tries to reach for the camera in megumi’s hands but to no avail as the camera is already in the air before he can react.

in a move no one saw coming, megumi manages to shake off the invincible gojo by biting his finger. the white haired man winces in pain looking at his slightly reddening finger with minimal concern, as the camera lands in the driver’s hands.

after a few minutes of roughhousing gojo surrenders, warily draping his arm lazily over megumi’s shoulder as they make their way back to the car. your heart warms as the love and admiration they have for eachother is clearly shared in their own weird ways.

with the playful display of bravado over with now, you peel your eyes away from the window, closing the lights, blinds and whiteboard, grabbing your jacket before locking your classroom door shut.

your walk home is nothing short of uneventful but even as the music blares in your headphones, you can’t get over the sound of megumi and gojo battling it out in the school car park, the thought of that bringing a smile to your face.

he truly did love him.

[memories-of-ancients]

Just curious, why do you think Rome fell?

OMG do you really have to ask such a big question right before I was going to bed anon? Well, here are the primary reasons IMO as a Roman history buff.

Lots of Civil Wars --- The Romans going way back to the days of the Republic were constantly fighting over who was going to be boss. Sulla fought a civil war and took over Rome and declared himself dictator, ditto Julius Caesar, and of course Octavian did the same and became the first emperor. During the empire there were many civil wars over who would be emperor as the Imperial system often lacked rules for succession resulting in dynastic struggles and civil wars. Not that it would have mattered if they did, as they probably would have just ignored the rules. In the 3rd century the empire underwent a 50 year period of near constant civil war known as the Crises of the Third Century. Constantine became emperor after killing all his opponents in a civil war. The later half of the 4th century had more civil wars. Even in the 5th century factions were fighting each for control of an empire that was collapsing all around them. No side wins a civil war because they are bloody, destructive, there are no spoils of war. There is only self destruction, they are about as helpful to a country as would a person shooting himself in the foot. All the money and resources that went into fighting civil wars and rebuilding after the war was money and resources not being used to maintain infrastructure, maintain public works, regulate the economy, defend from outside threats, and maintain the government.

2. Political Instability --- Most emperors did not die of natural causes, most emperors were murdered, or committed suicide, or died in battle, or died in a prison cell. Roman government was chalk full of power hungry psychopaths who were willing to murder their way to the top. Sometimes emperors could come and go quickly, with reigns lasting 2-3 years or less in the 3rd century.

Roman political history was rife with intrigue, assassinations, and coups occurring all the time. It was like Game of Thrones except instead of lasting 8 seasons it lasted 500 years.

3. The Army Became a Powerful Interest Group --- If you were a Roman emperor the army was a double edged sword. They were good in that they maintained peace and order in the empire and protected it from invaders. They were bad for you in that they could revolt and murder you, replacing you with someone they liked more. Even your own guard, the Praetorian Guards, couldn't be trusted as they could easily slit your throat in your sleep and declare someone else as emperor. To make sure the army was happy, you gave them big pay bonuses called donatives. Basically official bribes paid to keep the soldiers of the army loyal and happy. With each successive emperor the annual donative became bigger and bigger and thus a greater strain on the Imperial Treasury. If an emperor didn't pay up, he could be murdered by his own soldiers. Thus a lot of public money was paid just to keep the army happy so they didn't end up starting another civil war.

4. A Fucked up Economy --- Maintaining a large standing army to defend a large empire is expensive. Fighting civil wars is expensive. Rebuilding after civil wars is expensive. Constant regime change is expensive. Political intrigue is expensive. Eventually it got to the point where there just wasn't enough money to pay for all that. So emperors just minted more money, decreasing the silver content and minting more copper coins until eventually Roman money became worthless.

Today Roman money is still worthless. Go on ebay and find the cheapest Roman coins you can buy. Except for rarer collectibles Roman coins are still very plentiful and thus very cheap to collect. Worthless money made trade and commerce difficult, and thus the economy suffered. Not to mention constant bloody and destructive civil wars were damaging the economy. Political instability also damaged the economy.

5. Growing Disparity in Wealth --- Over time with civil wars and political instability the rich got richer and the poor got poorer. Eventually wealth became so concentrated in the upper class that the middle class disappeared entirely by the late 4th - 5th century. By then the average Roman was in a bad way. They had no opportunities and most Romans were forced to live as tenant farmers, essentially sharecroppers.

6. A Corrupt Tax System --- Meanwhile the wealthy became so powerful that they were able to wield that power so that they did not have to pay taxes. They could exploit loopholes, manipulate laws in their favor, or bribe their way out of paying. To try to make up the revenue, tax collectors attempted to squeeze the lower classes, which of course, didn't have any money. Thus by the late 4th - 5th century the empire was severely underfunded. This resulted in the degradation of infrastructure, public works, the army, the weakening of the government, and less investment in the economy and commerce.

7. Patronage --- By the 5th century the average Roman was out of opportunities and the middle class was gone entirely. More and more the lower class Roman was being squeezed for tax money, money which they didn't have. So in order to survive, Roman lower classes sold their services to a wealthy patron. The patron would house you and protect you and take care of your tax problems. If you were lucky and had special skills like a craftsman or artist you could make a good living under a patron. If not, you probably ended up a tenant farmer tied to the land of the patron, essentially a sharecropper, a serf, or a peasant. Due to this change in the socio economic system power was drawn away from the Imperial government and was redirected to the wealthy patrons. Thus the empire was becoming decentralized.

This would become the basis for medieval feudalism.

8. No One Wanted to Join the Army --- Why would you? You're dirt poor and have no opportunities. If you joined the army you may not even get the opportunity to defend the empire, as you're gonna get killed in a stupid civil war fighting a fellow Roman who is also dirt poor and has no opportunities. Your government is corrupt, your emperor is a snobbish entitled incompetent dipshit who was out of touch with reality, the tax man is trying to squeeze you for money you don't have, you have no rights, you've been forced to become a peasant to a proto-feudal lord, and it is clear the empire is dying. By the mid 5th century most Romans were like, "let it fucking die". As a result, the army suffered severe manpower shortages. Right at the time when Goths and Franks and Vandals and Huns are going to start swarming into the empire.

These to me are the primary reasons for the fall. Anyone have anything else to add in addition to this?

[alimaybankkk]

sunshine

summary: jj never really thought of loving a girl before. it was always a hit and run, but you were something else.

warnings: fluff. that’s literally it. like major fluff

pairing: jj maybank x innocent!routledge!fem! reader

————————————————————————

you were outside of the chateau, chilling in your yellow sundress when you heard his voice.

“hey, y/n,” jj said, sitting down next to you.

you grinned, tying a knot on the bracelet you were making. “hi, jj.”

he looked at you in deep thought for a moment, noticing it was the first time he ever loved the way his name was said.

“is john b here?” he asked.

you didn’t let your smile fade, although you were pretty bummed. you wished he’d come to see you, but you shrugged. “i don’t think so. wanna hang with me for a little bit?”

he looked like he was thinking, but he eventually shook his head. “i’ll just come back later.”

he wanted to stay with you. in fact, he needed to stay with you. but the thought of loving someone the way he loved you was terrifying. especially if it was his best friends little sister.

he stood, starting to walk but you followed after him. “well, where are you going?”

he shut his eyes as he stopped in his tracks. “home.”

you shook your head. “jj, can you stay with me? i’m bored.”

he shook his head. “i got work to do, princess. maybe another time.”

you suddenly looked at him with puppy dog eyes, gripping his bicep. “please?”

he bit his lip. damn, if he knew how to say no to you, he would have done it. but he didn’t. he grabbed your hand and took you back to where you were sitting earlier.

“pick a color, jj,” you said, putting your old bracelet off to the side.

“um,” jj thought. “i don’t know.”

“come on, j, just pick one!” you rested your head on your knees.

“um,” he said, looking around. his eyes fell on your dress, which he loved a lot, but was too nervous to say. “yellow.”

you looked up. “like the sunshine, right, j?”

he sighed. “yes, princess, like the sunshine.”

“it’s very warm today. i was tanning earlier. look how much sun i got,” you said. you showed him your arm after gathering a few different strings to put together.”

jj smiled. “cute.”

“so, what did you need my brother for?”

he shrugged. “pogue stuff.”

“i’m a pogue,” you muttered. “why can’t i know?”

“because, honey, it’s secret.” he brushed it off like it was nothing, but you wanted to cry.

your hair was in a half up half down style, one that jj had never seen before on you, with your ends blown out and complimenting your hair color. you noticed he was looking at your hair, which gave you an idea.

“j,” you said, rummaging through your bookbag. “can you tie a bow?”

he shrugged, catching sight of the yellow ribbon you threw onto the grass. “sure, princess, i can.”

“tie one into my hair, please.”

he sighed and you turned around. jj wanted to hold you close to him and cuddle you, but he had self control. he looped the ribbon around the ponytail at the top and began tying as you leaned your back against his chest.

“you’re making it hard for me to tie, here, princess.” he chuckled, having to restart. he had goosebumps from how close you were.

you almost fell asleep. “you’re comfortable, jj.”

he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself not to leave a trail of kisses from your ear down your neck.

“done,” he said, starting to twirl a few strands as he waited for you to get off of him. “you can sit up now.”

“no,” you shook your head and forced him to lay down, cuddling up to him.

“come on, princess, sit up,” he said, tapping your hip.

“j, i’m comfortable. please?” and for the second time in five minutes, you looked at him with the puppy dog eyes.

he sighed, pushing your head back onto his chest. “remember how john b said you were off limits when you turned 13?”

“yeah? and you said never in a million years would you want me?” you asked.

he winced. he regretted those words every day, wishing he could go back and take them away. “yeah. yeah, that time.”

“what about it?”

“nothing. take a nap, princess. you’ll get even more tan.” he said.

“okay.” you agreed and fell asleep.

* honestly, jj felt like a creep. he’d watched you sleep for at least thirty minutes, but he couldn’t help it. he loved the way your chest rose and fell slowly. but mostly, he loved that you even smiled in your sleep.

jj’s legs were starting to cramp. he couldn’t move without waking you, but he didn’t have a choice. your eyes fluttered open and you turned to him, startled.

“‘m sorry, princess.”

you smiled an ‘it’s okay.’ and sat up. he followed, starting to realize how sweaty he felt. he brushed it off and took a sip from the water bottle that was there.

“jj, that’s mine,” you told him and grabbed it back, drinking it until it was gone.

“someone’s thirsty,” he commentated and jabbed you in the hip.

you giggled, throwing the water bottle at him. “i got to get back to my bracelet,” you said to yourself and went away at knotting .

he watched you contently for five whole minutes before saying, “do you still love the stars?”

you froze. it was something dumb you’d told him when you were eight. you never had expected him to remember, but you nodded. “yeah.”

he grinned, thinking of how cute you would be on a blanket pointing to the little dipper.

“wanna watch them with me tonight?” he asked. he bit his lip, waiting for your answer.

your smile grew wider. “okay.”

he slapped your back, chuckling. “it’s a date then.”

you turned around and have him a thankful look that he wished he could take a picture of in the moment and look at every second of his life.

“jj,” you said, looking past his shoulder. “john b’s back.”

jj would be lying if he said he wasn’t upset. he was bummed that it was no longer the two of you. he was upset that there probably would not be another cuddle session that evening.

to be honest, he’d only realized his feelings for you a few years ago. at least, he’d recognized them. he’d always felt the same about you, but only around three years ago did he realize it was love.

you had loved him knowingly since the first time he held your hand on the way to school while john b walked beside him, defending you from the bigger and meaner kids at school.

you’d always had that puppy love for him.

and he’d always had that puppy love for you.

“right.” jj said back, standing and approaching john b.

he turned around. “stars at my house, okay?”

you smiled and nodded, gripping the grass and ripping a few blades out.

* jj had set out a few pillows and a blanket on the roof of his house. he was quite comfortable on his own, snuggling up into the pillows he slept with every night. he couldn’t get over the fact that soon he would be able to lay his head on a pillow that smelt like you.

after a few minutes of listening to the crickets, he heard footsteps. “jj?”

he sat up and peaked over the edge of the roof. “shh, princess, don’t go inside.”

he watched you look up at him, smiling as you locked eyes with him. your eyes reflected the moon and the stars. they looked no different from how they usually did. well, maybe they did; jj usually saw the whole world in them.

“jj, i can’t get up there,” you whined. he climbed down the ladder and grabbed your hands, smiling at you.

“hi,” he said.

“hi.”

he ordered you to go on his back and you climbed there, fighting your fear of heights. he climbed the ladder with no problem, placing you gently on the fort he’d made. you leaned back and laid down as he laid down next to you.

jj knew how small he made the little circle. he wanted to be as close as possible to you. you loved it, too.

“oh, baby, your ribbon’s all messed up.” jj said, mentally kicking himself for the pet name.

and you mentally kicked yourself for almost fainting at the nickname. he’d never called you that before. “what did you say?”

“i said… i said your ribbon’s all messed up.” jj said nervously.

“before that.”

he hesitated. “baby.”

you squeezed your eyes shut, turning to face him. “i liked it.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

he helped you sit up as you leaned against his chest and he retied your ribbon for the second time today.

“i like your hair like this, baby.” he said, smiling as you shivered at the nickname.

“thank you,” you said, leaning your head into his neck.

he nodded and kissed your forehead.

what are we? he thought, resting his chin on your head.

you were looking at the sky through the side of your eye and you launched your finger out. “venus.”

“what, baby?” he asked, his attention being drawn back to you.

“i can see venus.” you pointed. he followed your gaze but didn’t see anything. he pretended he did.

“very beautiful, princess.” he said. just like you, he thought.

you nodded, turning back to him and reaching into your pocket of the shorts that were under your dress.

you pulled out a yellow chevron bracelet. the one that you had not finished before he left. it warmed his heart to know that you had not stopped thinking about him when he left.

“you got a gift for me, don’t you, routledge?” he asked, not accidentally holding your hand for a little too long when he grabbed it out of your hand.

“like the sunshine,” you told him, pointing to the yellow.

he grinned. “just like the sunshine, princess.”

“i would love some sunshine right now,” you said.

“i have some,” jj blurred out without thinking.

you raised an eyebrow. “how?”

he couldn’t go back now. “in a way, baby, you are my sunshine.”

you grinned, your face lighting up. he knew the sun was your favorite star in the sky ever since you were eight .

“i’m your sunshine?”

“my sunshine.” he told you, cuddling close to you. “if i’m upset, you make me feel better.”

you didn’t even think about it, but you gave him a kiss. on the lips.

it was something you did a lot—kiss him—but it was usually just on the forehead or on the cheek.

he froze. you sat up. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to—”

but he smashed his lips against yours, drowning you in passion and love.

“i love you, baby.” he told you.

“i love you, too, jj,” you said, smiling wide.

“oh and this bracelet reminds me…” he started, reaching into his pocket. he pulled out a neckless. it was made with clay beads, a type of bead you enjoyed.

it was yellow.

“i made it for you.” he told you as he adjusted it onto your neck.

* a/n: so fluffy

part 2? idrk

[goosita]

billy antrim is smooth

he pulls you in with strong hands at your waist, warmth radiating off of him. his chest is broad and sturdy where your hands fall against it, flannel shirt soft and worn. there’s a group of other men somewhere in the corner of the saloon, playing at their guitars and fiddles while the oil lamps keep the place lit in a hazy glow.

“hey, sweetheart,” he drawls, giving you a crooked smile. so boyish and sweet despite the heat simmering in his eyes. “missed ya today.”

he’s been out in the sun, that much you can tell. his cheeks are redder than usual, freckles dotting his nose faintly. dust has settled in the wisps of dark hair that fray out from underneath his hat. he smells like grass and sunshine, something masculine and heavy below the surface. billy’s been pulling long days, doing work he never really tells you about. all you know and need to know is that he’ll come find you at the end of the day, he always does.

everyone in town always called him “the kid”, but by the time you’d met billy, he was all man. his jaw sharp and stubbled, tall and broad and firm, unyielding. he commanded attention, even when he didn’t mean to. billy antrim holds himself confidently, self-assured. he had a natural leadership to him, something that it caused people to look at him and see him. the men watch him with mixtures of admiration and envy, and the women watch him with longing and desire.

“missed you too, billy,” you say with a smile in return. and its true; you always miss him during the day. billy haunts your thoughts when the sun is up, then slinks into your arms when the moon replaces it.

he pulls you in tighter to his body, his hand splayed across your lower back pressing you flush against him. his grin twitches up a little higher at the little gasp that his actions pulls from you. this close, you can feel exactly how much he’d missed you pressing into your lower belly through your skirts.

“i know, baby.” he dips his head to skim the tip of his nose along your cheek, his breath tickling your ear. “can’t wait to get you alone,” he whispers, pressing the softest kiss below your jaw. you knew people were probably staring, his bold display of affection in such a public space making you shiver. it didn’t really matter much, though. everyone knew you were his girl anyway.

“slow down, cowboy. i’m havin’ a nice time right here, actually,” you tease. billy lets out a breathy chuckle that makes your stomach do fluttery things.

the boys in the corner continue to play and you let billy sway you to their song, keeping his heavy palm at your lower back and holding your hand in his free one.

“alright. you want slow, i’ll be slow for ya,” he whispers, mirth dancing in his gaze. “anything you want, darlin’.”

always so in control, your man is. but he bends for you, lets you take his reigns. you know he’ll always give it to you. billy antrim is steadfast and unwavering, until you look at him with your pretty eyes and sweet lips. when you tell him what you want, that becomes his whim too then.

later on, when your wants begin to melt into each other until neither of you can wait any longer, billy keeps his promise. the way he undresses you and pushes you gently down onto his bed is slow, even slower when his lips and tongue caress everywhere on your body he can reach until you’re gasping and mewling his name.

slow even as he rolls his hips into you, feeling the way your thighs tremble around his waist. his hands take their time caressing the length of your arms before his fingers are wrapping around your wrists, pinning them into the pillows above your head. his mouth does wicked things against your own, his tongue teasing and teeth nipping softly.

when you beg for him to move faster, he smirks against your lips and shakes his head.

“nuh uh. you wanted slow, remember? we’re gonna be slow tonight.”

he chuckles at your whine, making a cheeky point to push hips hips even more unhurriedly. his pubic bone grinds against your clit at every press, making your back arch. his cock grazes against a spot inside you that makes you sob his name, relentless even as he takes his sweet time with you. it’s overwhelming, the sweetest torture as he moves against you. his bare skin sliding against yours feels like velvet, smooth and soft and warm.

he’s everywhere all at once, and you relish in being completely at his mercy. his sheets smell like him, splayed out around you as you writhe; his mouth only ever leaves yours to find a new spot to kiss, lick, bite. his hushed voice fills your ears, low moans and filthy praises that make your cunt squeeze even tighter around him. billy’s a solid weight above you, completely surrounding you and all of your senses. he’s taking you apart piece by piece and you let him.

when you finally fall over the edge, it feels like it lasts for ages. your body shudders and you pant, whimpering as billy whispers praises in your ear.

“that’s it, baby. cum on my cock, just like that. fuck, you feel so good,” he growls, and you can tell he’s close too. your thighs tighten around him, hips lifting to meet each thrust of his until he’s groaning and dropping his head to your shoulder, spilling inside of you. his body shines in the moonlight with a thin sheen of sweat, hot to the touch and sensitive.

billy antrim is smooth where you need him to be, when he occupies your thoughts at all hours of the day and lures you into his bed at night.

a/n: shoutout to the anon who told me about the black velvet edit on tiktok and also @ voidaconitum for making said edit

[jolapeno]

it's you. it's me.

simon ghost riley x f!reader (reader!helen) wordcount: 5.3k (i have zero self-control) summary: he never wanted to get married. he’s not sure when you became the exception. an: mention of loss, blood. smut. emotions. angst. fluff (usual jo-shit)

simon ghost riley masterlist

++

He never wanted to get married.  Marriage meant paperwork. Paperwork meant leads. Leads led to death.  Not just for him, but for the poor soul he’d chain to him. The one who he’d rather not have than know their life was ended because of him. Because he’s supposed to be dead.  He’s not sure when you became the exception.  Unsure when you buried yourself so deep into his veins he needs you more than blood, oxygen and bullets.

++

Shit hit the fan. 

Some missions were worse than others. Some leave more than scars and nightmares.

Today was bad. Even he knew that. 

Alpha 0-3 lay on the floor, unconscious proof of it. 

Half the soldiers they’d gone with—dead, KIA. 

His jaw is tight, almost cracking as he stares at Johnny—unsure how they’ve walked away from it. How they’re both here, surrounded by silence as the few who have survived try to process.

He almost says something, spits it out. But then he hears it—your orders.

They’re piercing and direct. Coming over the radio as the blades overhead slow, guiding them down to the ground. He feels it—the itch to get to you. To bury his hands in your hair and pull your face to him. 

Ghost makes do with meeting your eyes when the rear opens, your eyes scanning him, the briefest mist of relief over your lips, cheeks and eyes before you nod.

“Later?”  Later.

He responds in the same silence, puncturing it with a nod. 

The two of you had your own spoken language—something he’d mastered quicker than he had any other language. But then, speaking Helen had more pros than cons. More benefits than listening to enemies talk shit about him and his mask. 

All he could do was watch as you followed the carried body. 

Unsure what version of you he’d find later—what fragments of you he’d have to scoop up. If there would even be pieces left where they were supposed to be. 

Secretly, and selfishly, he just hopes the pieces of him match with the pieces of you. Praying they slot together until the two of you can both return to some semblance of a whole. 

It’s then he has to remind himself it’s a luxury having you. War takes so much—the darkness takes so much more. 

It’s a reward to pull you close to him after a shit show like this; it’ll be a gift to feel your breath on his chest. Even more so for your fingers to draw those bloody shapes on his side—dancing over healed scars and your needle stitching. 

“C’mon, Johnny,” he snaps, filling the air with something other than failings, disappointment and held breath. “Briefing. Now.” 

+

You crumble. 

Lost it. Lost them. 

Losing is part of the war, part of the battle. But, it doesn’t sting any less, doesn’t make it easier to swallow. 

Call it.  But— I said call it. 

Your gloved hands clenching and unclenching. Desperately clinging, digging your toes into your boots as you try to not unravel. You could do it alone. When they’d left. When the room was emptied and there was only you and your failure on the table. 

They moved to leave. Quickly. Announcing they’d check the others—the ones who had wounds but still had air in their lungs. Your eyes blinking, the machines turning off, their boots squeaking before the door to the theatre squeals. 

That’s when you look at their backs, firing a quick, but soft thank you. Something those above you didn’t do when you were in their position—when you were them, head hung down, feeling the weight of another loss. 

Both of them meet your eyes, and you reward them with a smile, one which tells them it’s not on them—a smile which says you can’t win them all. Something you don’t believe, have never believed but can understand why it’s a comfort. 

They nod, and they leave. 

Not knowing you’re ticking, that you’re a bomb. Emotions bubbling, fizzing and hissing. Time ticks as you wait. For what you’re unsure. 

Silence? The moment to snap? 

It would have needed a miracle. The damage was extensive—you knew that, you’d already calculated it before you’d begun. A life, was a life. A person had people. 

You stare at the corpse—the one which had a beating heart minutes ago, the one which had the slimmest chance, but a chance all the same. 

You could feel it crushing you. The weight of loss. The failure pecking at your bones—good soldiers lost. Gone. 

Because your fucking hands weren’t quick enough. 

++

You’re not in your office. 

Not in the infirmary or the utility cupboard you often hide in. 

The one he’s somehow crammed himself into when you’ve needed a minute—hands grasping at his belt buckle. 

He’d counted the bodies hooked up to machines. 

Realised quickly, but not quickly enough. The soles of his feet hammer down, and it dawns on him how shit shit was. 

He’d felt the thrum in his chest earlier. The knot of something undoing—his gut telling, screaming and kicking that something was wrong. Now he knows what. 

Because he knows you. It’s why he cuts down corridors and passes soldiers who almost flatten themselves to the wall as he passes. 

Doing so until he finds you, and finds you he does. 

If someone told him he grasped his chest at the sight of you, he’d have crushed their windpipe with his palm. But, as he stepped through his open door, spotting you pressed into the corner of his room, he unclenches his hand from his jacket. 

You’ve been broken. A shattered raft out at sea, lost and delirious in grief. 

But this is worse.

His foot closes the door, waiting for a reaction—finding none. Nothing. Not an arch of your brow, not a snort.  

Your knees remain bent, elbows hanging over them. There’s a distant, empty look in your eyes. Both of them almost glazed over, like the light in them has been snuffed out. 

Exactly how Johnny had described them to him when he’d come looking for him, having passed you…

But, it’s that plus the fact your bloody apron is still on, your blue gloves crumbled before you—boots removed, white sock-covered feet flat on his floor. 

The only way he can even tell you’re alive and awake is from the slow rise and fall of your chest—the occasional blink here and there. 

He knows how often you’ve taken care of him. You’ve stitched him. Stapled him. 

You’ve listened and you’ve sat as he had shouted. 

Most of all, you have looked for him—found him. You’ve saved him from falling into a hole. Even going as far as to find him behind the mess, cold ebbing at him as your fingers snake under his mask—not to remove it, but to touch the back of his neck. 

I’ve got you. Ghost, I have you. Simon. Simon, I’ve got you. I’ll always have you. 

Your eyes staring into his, saying those words over and over until he can blink a little easier—he can move your hand under the mask to his lips so he can kiss them. 

And he knows it’s his turn now. 

He crouches, sliding a glove from his hand, brushing his finger over your cheek, watching your eyes flicker—registering him, acknowledging. 

“Helen.”

Your lips twitch. 

The name usually does that. The one he uses more than your own. At this point, he’s unsure if you truly hate it or just hate that you love it. He prefers it, personally. Not because he dislikes your name, but because he’s the only one who calls you this. The only one who gets that glint in your eye, that twitch of your lips. 

His fingers trace down your cheek, running to clutch your chin. You’re cold, so impossibly cold, watching your teeth nip at your lip, watching for the tremble, the quiver he knows is due to come. Not taking his eyes from you as they stare back at him, all sunken and sad, but still somehow more beautiful than any fucking sunrise he’s ever seen. 

He whispers your name—your real name, stroking the skin under your chin as he feels you swallow against his little finger. 

“Y’know why Price likes you?” 

He wraps his other hand around your arm, feeling you move with him—allowing him to lift you to your feet. Your plastic apron is crinkling, feet shuffling until he can lift you with ease. 

“Cause I’m cheap for saying I’m good with a scalpel and a PC?” 

Ghost shakes his head, wanting to chastise you—but he assumes you’re doing that enough to yourself for the two of them. 

Instead, he forces his fingers to lift your chin. “Because you give a shit, Helen.”

“I don’t want to.” 

“I know.” 

Your hands gently clutching his mask-covered cheeks, staring into his eyes as you silently stare. Not saying anything with your lips, but plenty with your eyes. 

“What do you want, hmm?” 

You. I want you. 

His hands take your wrists, holding you, not letting go.

“I don’t want to think. Just… make me forget, help me not give a shit, Simon.” 

And he knows what you need, what you’re too afraid to ask for. Fuck me like a whore, Ghost. Fuck me until I'm whimpering and begging cause I can't take anymore. 

You have said those words once. Albeit drunk, confidence propped up with vodka and fruit juice. But, if you had that same confidence now, he imagines it’s what you’d ask for. And who is he to say no? How could he? 

You’ve looked up at him from your place between his thighs, knees on stone and dirt as your hand wrapped around the base of him. Let your tongue swirl over his tip, tasting him, hollowing your cheek, sucking, teeth grazing down his shaft when he needed it the most. When he needed something so similar. 

Some drink to forget the bad days.

The two of you fuck until your raw, till you’re both full of something other than regret and sadness.

He’s aware he shouldn’t, not this time.

Ghost should hold your cheeks, stare into those pretty eyes he’d happily burn the world for, and take you for a shower, washing the day from your skin and bones. Because you’re crumbling, the parts of your confidence withering—hoping and needing to feel good, to be good. 

And he can prove that to you without fucking you senseless. He can name an infinite amount of fucking things that prove you’re good, that you’re kind, and that you can do what you can do. 

Because you’re you. 

You've wormed your way inside of him, flooded the darkest parts of him with light and made a slither of him think he deserved you.

Your hand presses to his chest, cold and timidly. All of sudden so aware of how delicate and thin your fingers are, how small and delicate it is next to his scarred, worn skin. 

“Please, Simon.” 

And he hooks his fingers into the elastic of your scrubs at the whisper of his name—feeling you hold his shoulders as you kick them into some distant corner. 

You silently thank him when he rips the disposable apron, balling it before tossing it. Letting your fingers, those soft, slightly calloused, healing fingers slide under his top—run over his skin, over the places you’ve stitched.

He doesn’t move, even if he wants to. Letting you brush over the hair on his stomach, run your nails over the lines of his muscles. Letting you read him as if his scars are Braille, allowing yourself the reminder of the times you’ve saved and healed. 

And then he pulls your chin up. 

++ 

“‘You sure you want this?” 

Ghost is rarely gentle, but Simon sometimes is.

The man you have in front of you is some hybrid of the two—masked up, but with the eyes of Simon. All blue, like the ocean, willing to drag you down. 

Sometimes they’re like the water you’d expect to be licking a sandy beach, and sometimes they’re so dark you’d fear what breathed under the watery depths. 

Sometimes, it’s hard to breathe when he looks at you. When his eyes—all swirls of blue surrounded by charcoal black—curl into you. He’s big, broad and tall, and so much more than you could have ever known you’d have. 

He makes heat pool between your legs with one look, and makes you feel safe by just being close. Even if he doesn’t see it—doesn’t fathom it at all—you’d throw away all your values and beliefs of saving people, and rip them apart with your hands to get to him. 

You feel his thumb flutter over your scar, the one on your hip from a bullet meant for him. He hates it, and yet always strokes it. A memory forever embedded into your skin he can’t help but press play on, even if he knows how it ends.

You shouldn’ have done that, Helen.  I’d do it again. Stupid, woman. You’re a fuckin’ idiot. Only for you, Ghost. Only for you.

Your hands move to his belt, undoing it—the clang of metal piercing the air. 

“Helen?” 

You look at him, meet him in those beautiful blue eyes. Don’t ask me to talk, Simon. Your lungs are tightening, aching, as if each emotion you’re holding in is made from molten ash. 

You crack his belt like a whip with the speed of releasing it from his hooks, eyes holding his more firmly, blinking away the weakness—the emotions, the fucking audacity of the day. 

“Be my reason,” you say. 

To breathe. To keep fighting. To get up. 

++

For his sins, he’s gentle. 

Both in the way he lays your naked frame on his bed and the way he runs his fingers over the inside of your thigh. 

He wants to devour you, plunge his tongue into your cunt and taste everything you’ll give him. He almost does—instead he breathes over you, watching your hips try to wiggle, his other hand holding you in place. 

He lifts his head, watching, earning the sights he’s about to behold as he eases two fingers inside of you. You’re wet, warm—but it’s the way your lips fall that makes his hip roll against his mattress. 

With each movement, he watches for your reaction. Like you’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen, and you are. 

You whimper. You moan. Your eyelashes flutter, and your mouth falls open. And it’s all for him. 

With each rise of your chest, breath hitches, and he runs his mask down your abdomen. Feeling how slick you are against his fingers, how you whimper, both pleading and breathless. Even through the mask, he can smell your arousal, how you want him to take you apart—practically taste it all in the air. 

He curls his fingers, watching as your hand grasps his forearm. More, Simon. More. Your other knotting his sheets in between your fingers, a root, something to grip until space, time and life crashes into you and makes your throat sore as you moan his name around his room. 

He wants it too. He wants to earn his name, coax it from your beautiful pink, swollen lips and wear it with pride. 

But, Ghost also wants something else. 

Normally, he’d give you everything you want, and more. From the feral look in your eye, you want to be turned away from him, for him to be rough—and normally, fuck he’d want that too. 

He’d want to split you apart, know that you’ll be thinking—feeling—him for the next fucking three days. 

He admittedly also likes the sight. 

Something about getting to see your arse while holding your tits, and having the ability to suck red and purple welts on your neck. The best, though, is when you try to wiggle to see him—catch sight of him. Your eyes pressed into the corner of your sockets, hands gripping nothing as he takes you apart with his cock.

Ghost likes fucking you like that—likes fucking you when you have nowhere to go. Pinning you. Locking you in place. 

Not that you ever want to go, he knows you don’t. 

You’re so fucking big, Simon. 

You clench around him like you never want him to stop filling you. A vice on him that he never wants to rid of either. 

Because Helen likes to be pinned, to be smothered by his body. You like him looming over you, dwarfing you; like him lifting you and fucking you against walls, doors and even fucking windows. 

He suspects it’s because you like to surrender control, like for it to be taken from her. So used to being in control, needing to be, and people depending on it. to be taken away from her. 

Your thighs quiver, soft protests as he slides another finger inside of you. Stretching you. 

“Fuck… Simon, fuck.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” 

He doesn’t lessen, listening to each whimper and moan, lifting his mask so he can kiss your skin—teeth grazing as he curls his fingers, thumb swiping over your swollen clit as your hips try to cant against his hand. 

The sensation of your fingers in his hair, makes him groan as he captures your lips. All teeth, tongue and messy, both pushing your legs wider and pulling your hips to him all in one movement. 

Needy. Desperate. Hungry. 

And then you're clenching, hips tensing before a hand grips his mask—and then you come, hips spasming, thighs shaking. 

++

Often, you let him leave the mask on—partly. 

You like to kiss him, like to bury your moans against his mouth. You’ve seen him, know him. You know the shape of his cheekbones and the silver scars. 

“Your eyes are enough for me. Never take them from me.”  “Never.” 

He's being a tease. 

Sliding inch by inch of himself into you. His tongue in your mouth, your focus on the fiery stretch he provides as he buried himself to the hilt. 

He rears his hips back until he fills you all over again, faster, sharper, more purposeful. And it’s sinful. It’s fucking bliss and a high you don’t even deserve. Not as you begin to meet his thrusts with a squeeze, a clench. Hearing his hiss, watching him place his mask-covered forehead against yours. 

Because he’s deep. So fucking deep. 

Sheathed inside of you at an angle you’ve not known before. Almost unsure what your body has had to adjust to accommodate him. Not that you care, you never fucking care. 

You want him to claim you, mould himself inside of you. Because the sting passes, the size of him is something you never prepare for. Your nails are in the back of his hair, your lips almost meeting him as he ruts into you. Your eyes gazing down, watching where the two of you meet, and you’re not sure you’ll ever tire of it—of him. 

You imagine each muscle of his, tightening and flexing—especially as he rocks into you at alternating speeds, your eyelashes fluttering, feeling beads of sweat build at your brow. 

He’s everything. 

He’s fucking fire and ice, both dusk and dawn and everything in between. Your eyes blink open, seeing his own truth—seeing it as he grunts and his hand tightens on your hip as he seats himself deeply into you. 

The words are like licks of fire up your spine, mixing and blending with searing pleasure. 

I love you. I love you. 

You know. 

Fuck you know. 

Your lips crash and swallow the words he hasn’t yet said. Feeling him shake, as your toes curl, red-hot pleasure desperate to smother every inch of you and spread along every single nerve. 

His hips losing their rhythm, hammering the head of his cock against that spot which makes the sound of him filling you so damn deplorable. 

You whine for him. 

Biting down on his lip as it slams into you, snapping you, tears spilling down your eyes as his name storms past your lips as he holds you in place. 

Fucking you through it. 

Holding you, pinning you—until he fills you, his hips shuddering, fingers bruising until they slowly unclench from your hip. 

++

If someone cracked his head open, they’d see that one of his favourite things is holding you. 

He won’t admit it. 

Not even under the worst of tortures. 

But it is. It’s simple. Homely. Something he knows he doesn’t fucking deserve, and yet, has all the same. 

“You wanna talk?”

“No.”

You’re quick. The short, sharp no filling the small space between his face and yours. Mask gone, the lamp on his desk smothering the room in soft light. 

But he knows you do want to talk. So he gives it a minute.

He lets his fingers draw shapes on your ribs, waiting, letting you settle against him, hearing your mind begin to turn and churn. 

And then you talk, as he suspects you will. 

Because he knows it’s what you need. Even if you beg him to fuck you into his mattress, even if you tell him to fuck off, you need to talk. The thoughts building otherwise, stealing your confidence, your belief, your fucking hope. 

He needs silence, and sometimes needs to be alone. Sometimes, he needs both. 

You need to be touched, to be rooted, and to talk it out. Let the thoughts run from your tongue and meet the air—even if you repeat yourself, even if the same thought comes up time and time again. He will just listen. 

You’re rambling, talking about the clinical-ness before you move into how there was nothing you could do. So much blood. Too many bullets. You’re good. Not that good.  You lost one, and then the other. 

On another day it can be more, your hands not good enough today, but will they be tomorrow?

“Simon…”

He doesn’t breathe. Feeling, watching your eyes lift up from your place on his chest, scorching into his. “…They didn’t have a person, Simon. Not one. No Ghost. No Helen. Not this… Not that we’re each other's person. Not like how I mean.” 

“How do y’mean?” 

Your eyes tilt down, and he wonders if you can hear his pulse. 

“I have no one to alert that they’re dead. Not a wife. Not a husband. No children. A parent, yes. But… not a person. They died without…” 

You lift up, his fingers falling to your chin, feeling your lip quiver. Tears in your eyes, making them shimmer—a single tear hanging from your lash, dangling, waiting to drop. 

“It’ll be the same when I die… no one to legally inform. No one to...” 

Then it drops. The tear. 

Falling and cascading down your cheek before it lands on his chest. It bleeds out, mixing with the dried sweat and forgotten kisses you’d left before.

And then, like all downpours, more follow suit. Dancing down your skin, too many for him to catch even if he tries. 

He’s ashamed it takes him a minute. 

Wondering what the hell you even mean until he realises—no one knows. Not officially. Not even fucking unofficially. A secret, one which flickers inside of him and inside of you. Something shared in quick looks and private moments, but never where else.  

You shake your head, lifting up from your position on his chest, wiping your cheeks as you try to put on a smile. “I’m… ignore me. Just being daft.”

You’re not.

But he doesn’t say that.

He says nothing, eyes falling to his vest in the corner before landing back on you, watching you shimmy and shift to the end of his bed. 

“I should shower,” you mumble, hand brushing hair from your face as you stand.

His hand wants to lift, to take your wrist and pull you back to him—to kiss you, to tell you so many things. But his throat goes dry, silence filling the space his voice should be. 

++

It’s odd, what the two of you have. 

Far more than a situation, and way more than convenience. 

It’s trouble, difficult—often the hardest thing you could have chosen to do, and you stitch wounded soldiers for a living.  

But it makes sense. 

He didn’t seduce you. Wasn’t the best out of a bad situation.

He was dry and dark humour and had beautiful fucking eyes that you’d suspected were meant to strike some fear in you, but you’d weathered worse storms than him. You’d first kissed him because you had to—a niggling feeling inside of you that had to know if his lips were soft or whether they just looked it. You’d kissed him again because he stopped you from thinking, from crumbling.

Simon made you feel like you were falling, happily. 

His hand taps on your door, clicking your pen as you look up at him. He’s all casual, a sight to fucking behold. Dark grey joggers and a long-sleeve tee—and from the look in his eyes he’s on his way to training which only sparks more sinful thoughts in your hectic mind.

Initially, way back when, it had been about sex. 

About providing to yourself you could take him, having felt him, having felt how heavy, thick and long he fucking was. Then, it wasn’t.

Now it’s something big—bigger than his cock. It’s feelings and need, it’s desperation and imissyous wrapped in something you’re not sure you can live without. Now it’s about everything else, it’s about the small things and the fact you can feel yourself wanting to smile just because he’s here. 

“Lieutenant, what a surprise! How can I help you?”  

You wonder how often he smiles behind the mask. 

His reputation of being cold, difficult and sometimes an arsehole—depending on who you ask—is widely known. But you know a different person. One who washes your hair when you’re too tired to stand, one who brings you the milkiest tea on cold mornings, ‘Because you’re fuckin’ bitch without a tea in y’, Helen.” 

It still surprises you when he holds it up. It shimmers, sparkles and gleams between a bare thumb and his index finger. 

“For this situation, I think you should be callin’ me Simon.” 

You narrow your eyes, even if your heart is already pounding. Panic. Dread. Your mind racing, unsure what you’ve done—half-worrying if you’d lost one, even if you never wear jewellery. Not here. Not on base. Suddenly questioning whether you’d drunkenly told Soap to buy you something again, a dare gone wrong. 

You hum.

Hiding as best as you can that you’re lost, and confused. 

“Are you going to call me by my name?”

“No.”

Snorting, you fold your arms. “Didn’t think so. You going to explain why you’re holding a ring?” 

“I think you know.”

“Humour me.” 

Because my brain is running away from me. 

He’s not romantic in terms of red roses and sweeping you off your feet. He’s romantic in ways like tapping your arm twice, letting you know he’s missed you. Letting his eyes land on you across briefing rooms, nodding—you got this, Helen. You can do this. 

Ghost is sweet in ways others don’t see. His hand on your lower back when he can tell you want to leave somewhere, a silent offering to walk you back; bringing you a thicker pair of socks when snow is landing on the sill of your office, knowing you hate being cold. 

So, this… him standing holding a ring, could mean many things. 

“C’mon, Helen.” 

You pull a face, shrugging. 

“Be my person.” 

Your brows furrow, eyes frowning. 

Your mind explodes with a sea of things, darting, trying to remember, thinking of that exact phrasing. It takes a second, and then…

His eyes have that shimmer, that fucking obnoxious twinkle. Likely having watched you come to the same realisation—letting you take your time, proudly standing in your smile and glittering eyes.

“You want me… to be your person, person?” 

“Be the one they tell. Yeah.”

It would be easy to get ahead of yourself. 

It could be a formality, something small. A gesture but not the actual question. 

“I know you liked what I did with my tongue last night, but I didn’t know I was that good at giving head—“

“Helen.”

It comes out warningly.

It makes your lips clamp shut, looking down before meeting his gaze—his fiery, intense fucking stare. 

“Look, I know I was upset, but you didn’t need to go steal a ring for me.”

“I didn’t steal it. I had it made.” 

“What?”

He shrugs. 

He fucking shrugs. 

“When?”

It comes out high-pitched. The tone surprises you. So much so, you clear your throat. Repeating it, in a more normal and appropriate volume as you stand, gesturing to close the door behind him as you look at him. 

“Does it matter?”

“I think it fucking does.”

“Last time I went home, home.”

You glare.

Wishing you could see his smirk, already imagining it there all the same. 

Your fingers take it from him, looking over it as you admire it, feeling how warm it is. He’s been holding it, likely pressed into his palm on the walk over here. Your fingers turn it, feeling the ridges of it. 

Mostly, you’re trying to recall when he went home. 

The last time, you two had both been released home at the same time. Having half-joked that you’d combust without his cock, that he’d have to visit you, come ruin the countryside with you—only for him to offer to come with you. Come home. See your place—ensure you didn’t die from lack of being fucked senseless. 

Your fingers won’t do shit, Helen. Not now, anyway.  You’re a cocky shit, Riley.  And you’re a whore for my cock. 

His hands are buried in his jogger's pockets, questioningly staring at him as you hold it. This little thing, that means something big. 

“It’s made from a bullet. One you took out of me.”

Your lips part.

“Not sure if you remember? You told me to keep it as a reminder of what good hands feel like.”

“I remember…” you lick your lips, unable to stifle the way your heart hammers into your ribs—pretty sure he can hear it, the entire base for that fact. “I also remember you showing me how good yours were.”

“Enough.”

You silently apologise, looking at it again before meeting his eyes. “You’ve really had this the whole time?”

“In my vest.”

He says it so plainly like it’s the most normal thing in the world. 

As if your mouth shouldn’t be falling open in surprise again, that you shouldn’t be staring up at him in the way you are. 

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised. It’s you and me, Helen. Sometimes we’re the only thing that makes any fuckin’ sense.” 

“You know what giving me this means, right?”

He nods—fucking formally at that. 

“Ghost—“

“Simon.”

You smile, lips tight. “Simon. Does this mean what I think it means?” 

“If you think it means that it needs to go on your finger on your left hand, then yes.” 

He’s looking at you, pleadingly. 

“I think you should ask.”

“I just fuckin’ did!”

You laugh, watching his large chest rise and fall in annoyance. 

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re a pain in my arse—“

You say your name. 

Sharp, but sweet. Watching the parts of the mask around his nose flex in and out as he snarls and sighs. 

“Simon… out there, I’m Helen, I know. But, here… holding this, I think you should say my name too,” you whisper, more fragile, quieter than he’s likely known you to be for a while. 

And then he nods.

Taking the ring from your palm, sliding it over your fingernail, on that hand, on that finger—hovering it close to the knuckle. 

And he asks—using your name. Will you be my person?