#18 hrs was a mistake

[violent-darkness]

Use me

Billy Butcher x Joe Kessler x You

Warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, porn without plot, choking, degradation, spanking, whipping, dacryphilia, consensual infliction of pain, bdsm

Notes: I have nothing to say in my defense, your honor. I am clearly a disturbed person. Also, Kessler is kinda mean in this one.

Also, in the same series: Thoughts Little pet Use me pt.2 - the Aftercare

It was one of those endless work days. The tasks just kept on coming. Your eyes stung from all the gazing at the monitor and your neck was in desperate need of a massage – all stiffened up from the lack of movement. And on top of that, that bitch Janet from HR was stepping on your nerves the whole day – dumping you with stuff that wasn't your responsibility in the first place, all the while bragging about her latest boyfriend, who apparently drove a Porsche. You couldn’t wait for this day to be over, to return home, take a nice bath, and go to bed immediately after. But life had other plans. Life being a certain tall Brit called William Butcher.

You opened the door to your apartment, and were greeted by the sight of him sitting with a manspread in the armchair across the door, his signature devilish smile painted all over his face. He was wearing your favorite navy blue Hawaiian shirt, half unbuttoned. The light was dim, with only the soft decorative lamp casting intricate shadows across the room. Your face brightened up at the sight of Butcher, and you gave him a genuine smile, the special one that you were saving only for him.

But it quickly withered upon the sight of someone else sitting on the couch to his right. It took you a moment to recognize him. It was Joe Kessler, his handsome friend with the smug smile and the raspy voice. Butcher had introduced you to him a few weeks ago at a bar. He certainly made an impression on you with his assertive and charming persona. Your brow arched. They were both staring at you with flickers in their eyes, like they were up to something.

“Good evening, luv. How was your day?” Butcher’s gruff voice broke the silence in the room.

“It was okay, I guess. Busy,” you replied. You closed the door behind you and leaned on the wall, reluctant to get closer before getting a grip of the situation.

“Been a good girl, today?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Butcher’s brow furrowed, and a hint of irritation passed through his face.

Stupid mistake. But the presence of Joe Kessler distracted you. You knew what he wanted from you, what was expected.

“Yes, sir,” you corrected yourself.

“You are wearing the thing I told ya?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Show me.”

Your eyes immediately shot to Kessler, who was glancing at you with an amused, smug look, as if he was excited to see if you were up to the challenge.

“Go on, then. Do as I say and come closer,” Butcher demanded of you.

You had no choice but to obey. You were his, after all, and those were the rules. And you took pride in it. Being Butcher’s. You paused for a moment, took a deep breath to collect yourself, then made a few slow steps towards the middle of the room, letting your bag fall on the floor, with a loud thump that echoed across the quiet room. Slowly, with a dramatic gesture, you untied the belt of your trench coat, removed it, and let it fall on the ground. You were trying to prolong the moment as much as possible. Part of you felt awkward, but another deeper and darker one drew pleasure from the way both men were eyeing you up, eager for every little movement of yours.

The trench coat was followed by your high heels, first the right one—you lifted your foot slightly and leaned to take it off, then the left one - your hand slid slowly but confidently with a very delicate movement along the length of your thigh until it reached your calf and took it off. Last was your dress. You glanced away and took a deep breath, building up the courage. You reached with your hand and unzipped the back, then let the dress slip off on its own. Underneath it, you were wearing a black sheer and lacy body, which flattered your physique and left little to the imagination. The same one Butcher had bought for you and ordered you to wear that day.

Both men were eyeing you up from top to bottom, their lustful gazes making you feel uncomfortable, but also desired, and this was causing a flush in your cheeks and pulsations between your legs.

“Shit, Billy, you were right. She really is a sight for sore eyes,” Kessler snickered.

“Told ya, mate. And she tastes just as sweet.” They were shamelessly discussing you as if you weren’t even in the room. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, pinning your gaze on the ground, unable to overcome your shyness. The presence of Kessler, whom you barely knew, made you feel uneasy.

Butcher picked up on your nervousness. He got up from his chair and moved close to you, positioning himself between you and Kessler, shading you from him. He caught your chin with his fingers and lifted it so that you could look at him with your already teary eyes.

“You okay, luv? You still sure you want this? It was your idea, but we can call it off anytime…” He was carefully examining your eyes.

It was true. You wanted this. You suggested it like the obedient little slut you were. You immediately felt drawn to Kessler’s undeniable charm when you two met and when Butcher told you some of the crazy shit they were up to in their youth, it popped right out of your mouth. You fantasized about it for weeks after. You needed them both to blur the lines between pleasure and pain, to bring you almost to the point of utter obliteration, so that you could actually feel something raw, unspoiled, and fucking real for once. You wanted to forget about yourself for a brief moment. The heat between your legs was telling you that you wanted it. You wanted to serve them both the best way you could, to obey and make them happy.

“I’m okay,” you wiped your tears with your hand and nodded with a self-assured look.

“And you’ll use your safeword if it gets too intense for you?”

You nodded again.

“I need to hear ya say it. Your words, luv,” Butcher insisted.

“I’ll use my safeword if it gets too intense for me.”

“Good. Let’s play then,” he said, giving you a gentle smile and rubbing your cheek with his thumb, then returned to his seat. “On your knees. Crawl to the top drawer over there, take the collar and the crop and bring them back to me,” he barked his order, no trace of his previous softness left.

You knew what happened when you disobeyed him, so you went on your knees and started crawling under their watchful gazes. The harsh cold floor was hurting your knees, but you tried your best to ignore it. You reached the closet at the other end of the room, opened the top drawer, and took first the black leather collar and then the crop in your hands. The touch of the crop to your bare skin made you tremble. You knew very well what it was capable of.

You crawled back to Butcher, trying your best to ignore Kessler’s presence, and handed them to him. Then, you sat with your butt on your heels between his legs, giving him an obedient look and awaiting his next orders.

“Remove your lingerie.” 

Your heart rate picked up the pace, and a lump formed in your throat. You reached between your legs to unbutton it with your slightly trembling fingers, then slipped it off over your head. Butcher smirked as he put the collar around your neck with a swift and confident movement. He pulled you up to sit on his lap and started patting gentle kisses on your face—first across your jawline, then moving to your lips. He started off slow, just gentle brushes over them, which gradually made your tense body relax. You wanted more of him, you were eager, but each time you tried to deepen the kiss, he pulled away with a light chuckle. When he finally gave you a proper kiss, the sensation of his tongue in your mouth made you moan. His left hand moved to your breasts, gently caressing them, then trailed down between your legs to your already throbbing cunt. Butcher started with gentle taps on it, just barely touching it, then slowly building up the pressure, pairing it with kisses all over your neck. He knew your body so well that your orgasm was already embarrassingly close. But he had other plans for you. He stopped abruptly, making you frown.

“Kessler needs you too, doll. Go to him,” he encouraged you. Seeing your reluctance and how shy you were made Butcher’s cock twitch in his jeans.

“Come, darling. I won’t bite, I promise,” Kessler said, his patience running thin. He reached out to your throat, his fingers curling tightly around it, and pulled you into his lap. His grip was tight enough that you didn’t have a choice but to submit. He immediately gave you a long, intense, and breathtaking kiss, making you forget all your doubts. The sense of control he had over you, the mock in his eyes, his strong tattooed hands—all made you want him desperately, and you showed it with the pathetic, involuntary whimpers you let out. Just as you were melting into his kiss, he pulled back and gave you a very hard bite on the neck, one that would leave a bruise for days after, making you scream.

“I lied,” Kessler cackled. “I wanna make you feel good, sweetheart. I do. But first, I wanna hurt you so fuckin’ bad. Will you let me?” His raspy voice was like a drug to you. You were so far gone that you were willing to let him do anything to you at this point. He was rough, intense, explosive. But that was precisely why you felt so attracted to him. His unpredictability made your cunt throb. You shot a quick glance at Butcher, seeking his permission, and after you received it, you gave a slight nod to Kessler.

“Good girl,” he patted your cheek and then suddenly gave you a harsh slap, which made your head ring, your cheek sting, and your cunt drip. He pulled harshly on your hair with one hand until you arched back into his lap, while the other found its place between your legs. He stuck two fingers inside you abruptly, without warning or preparation whatsoever, making you gasp loudly, both from pleasure and pain.

“Jesus, Butcher, this poor thing is already so wet. A real slut, this one,” Kessler said, turning to Butcher while pumping his fingers into you. He wasn’t doing it for your pleasure; it was for him and him alone. He wanted to get a sense of you. He pulled his fingers away just as abruptly and held them up to your mouth, parting your lips and making you taste yourself.

“You have to be punished, little girl. For being such a slut,” he whispered in your ear while fucking your mouth with his fingers. You could feel his throbbing cock beneath you. Your heart started pumping against your chest. The adrenaline rush made you feel lightheaded. You instinctively felt his roughness, and you were afraid he might mess you up real bad. He tossed you around, positioning you on your stomach on the backrest of the sofa. Your butt was elevated in the air at a perfect angle.

He leaned close to your face and pulled you by your hair. “Ten smacks. And I intend to make you cry. You’ll count them for me.” He stood up and took the crop into his right hand. First, he started playing with you, gliding it across the skin on your back, until he reached your cunt and put a few taps over it, making you gasp and him chuckle.

“One.” The swing of the crop was swift and precise. The spank on your butt was hard, much harder than you anticipated. At first, you wanted to scream, to tell him to stop and make the pain go away, but soon a deeper, more primal urge took over—the need to submit, to serve, and obey.

“Two.” You were wondering how you’d manage to get to ten.

“Three.” You started squirming, which only earned you a slap on your face.

“Four.” From your position, you were able to observe Butcher, still in the armchair. His jeans were unbuttoned, and he was stroking his cock lazily. He was watching you with a gaze full of desire and a hint of pride. You were his girl, and you were taking your punishment so well.

“Five.” You decided that you were going to endure this for Billy. More than anything, you wanted to make him proud. Your skin was already a mix of dark purple, blue, and yellow. The stinging was transforming into a sharp pain with every hit. You tried to remain silent, but you simply couldn’t, and your involuntary screams filled the apartment space. Tears were streaming freely across your cheeks. But the adrenaline rush and the feeling of utter submission were unlike any other. You were an instrument for someone else’s pleasure. For their pleasure. The pain was almost unbearable, but it also brought heat and desire along with it. You tried to rub your thighs together to release some of the tension, which only made Kessler’s smacks even harsher.

“Six.” The pain made you forget all about your crappy day. It cleared your mind of all the noise. Only this moment existed: here and now. Nothing out of it was real. Pure consciousness.

***

“Ten,” you were quietly sobbing by now. Kessler stopped and patted your bruised butt with the crop, as if he wanted to squeeze every last ounce of pain out of you, then put it away. He started removing his clothes.

You glanced at Butcher, who was still enjoying the view and finally got up from his spot. “You are even more beautiful this way, luv,” he whispered in your ear. “Your butt all bruised and your face in tears.”

He leaned closer and slid his hand across your butt. His roughness over your bruised skin made you squirm. “Nah-ah, be a good girl now and stay in place,” he nudged. His fingers traced down to your clit and started playing with it. The sensation mingled together with the burning of your bruises. Slowly but surely, all your pain transformed into pleasure, and you started moaning softly. When the tip of Butcher’s cock started rubbing against your cunt but not yet entering, you arched your hips towards him, eager to feel him inside you.

“Please, sir,” you let out a pathetic whimper, which made him chuckle. You wanted him desperately and you were willing to do anything at this point. You were pleading and begging, almost ready to cry again as your cunt clenched painfully, longing to be stretched out. He was playing with you, enjoying the sight of you in this state. When he finally entered you with one strong and sudden thrust, it almost made you fall if it wasn’t for his strong hand around your waist. His movements were deep and intense but deliberate. He maintained a steady rhythm, which was hitting all the right spots. Waves of pleasure surged through your body like an electric current.

You opened your eyes for a moment and saw Kessler enjoying the view, pumping his hard cock. The sheer sight of it made you want it in your mouth. You reached to grab it. The slap on your cheek was instantaneous and left a red mark, causing your eyes to fill with tears once again.

“You don’t touch me unless I allow it, understood?” he sneered. You didn’t immediately answer, still coming up from the shock, so he pulled hard on your hair. “Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” you barely managed to utter.

“Hey, Butcher, you are making your slut cock dumb,” Kessler snickered.

Butcher smirked, grabbed you by your throat with his massive hand, and pulled you towards him while still pounding you mercilessly from behind. “You like this, don’t you? Feeling me inside you?” he squeezed your throat. “My little slut.” The lack of air made you dizzy and euphoric. Butcher didn’t need an answer from you, not really. The intensity of your moans and the pathetic, needy way you whimpered his name was enough proof for him.

“Hey, Kessler, did you know that this one comes from having cock in her mouth?” Butcher scoffed and released your throat.

“Fuckin’ hell, I gotta test that, don’t I?” Kessler chuckled enthusiastically before pulling your hair and forcing his cock deep down your throat. The room filled with slurping sounds, interrupted by your occasional gagging and desperate gasps for air. He was fucking your mouth with a steady, controlled pace, matching Butcher’s. He pulled out just for a moment to rub his cock all over your face. The saliva and his precum combined with your already smudged mascara, making your face look like a complete mess.

“Let me see your tongue, sweetheart!” Kessler instructed, and you opened your mouth wide and pulled out your tongue as best as you could. He spat on it and then pushed his cock deep inside your throat once again. The way he was using your mouth made you feel like a tool for his satisfaction, and this, combined with Butcher’s cock deep inside you, hitting all the right spots, made you absolutely feral. Your orgasm was close, and they could tell. You barely managed to mutter “Billy!” before Kessler forced his cock all the way down your throat without letting you pull back despite your fierce gagging. He pinched your nose instead, and the suffocating, slightly panicking feeling was what moved you over the tip. Your whole body started trembling uncontrollably, waves of enormous pleasure took hold of you as you came hard.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Butcher murmured, the feeling of your cunt clenching and pulsating around his cock almost made him come as well.

Kessler’s cock was still in your mouth, and he let out a few loud grunting noises when he felt the vibrations in your throat caused by your pathetic attempts to scream and moan.

As soon as you recovered from your orgasm, Butcher grinned and announced, “It’s time for a switch!” then pulled out from you. Kessler sat on the couch and pulled you like a ragdoll on top of him. He grabbed his twitching cock and guided it inside your wet cunt.

“Fuck, baby, you are so tight. It feels so good,” he held you by your waist and started controlling your pace, thrusting deep inside you. Your clit was rubbing against his lower abdomen, and the pleasure once again started building up. Your bruised butt was smacking against his thighs, but you didn’t mind; you were entirely consumed by the pleasure he was giving you.

Butcher stood beside the couch and tilted your head toward him.

“Open your mouth for daddy, sweetheart,” he nudged with a slight pat on your cheek and a dirty look, which made you clench. You stuck out your tongue, impatient to feel him in your mouth. His cock was like a drug, so you were doing your best to serve him as best as possible, to accommodate his whole length. Every time you gagged or your throat spasmed, it made him let out a low growl. Meanwhile, Kessler was fucking you dumb, shoving deep inside you and stretching you to the brim.

The pressure started building up inside you. “Fuck, I’m gonna…” you whimpered.

“You gonna come again, luv?” Butcher started putting gentle kisses on your neck and face with a smug smile.

“Come for us, doll.” Kessler pulled out and positioned you on your back on the couch, spreading your legs. He started smacking your swollen, throbbing cunt repeatedly, all the while shoving his two fingers inside you. His movements were gentle at first, but with increasing harshness. The cocktail of pleasure and pain made you moan and squirm. Butcher placed his knee on your chest to hold you firmly in place and started caressing your nipples with one hand, while the other was placed firmly on your throat, applying pressure. You opened your eyes and saw them both above you, with their hard, throbbing cocks. You were completely exposed, used by them, a toy for their amusement. The next hard smack on your cunt from Kessler, combined with the growing pressure Butcher applied on your throat, making it hard to breathe, made you feel an overwhelming sense of pleasure. Your thighs started trembling uncontrollably alongside your pulsating cunt while you started babbling incomprehensible sounds. Your orgasm made you forget your entire existence. Butcher and Kessler were enjoying the sight of you losing it completely, savoring every detail of the scene before them and your uncontrollable shaking.

When the aftershocks calmed down, they started taking turns using your throat. You were a complete mess by now, too exhausted by the intense emotions you had gone through, so you just let them do whatever they wanted with you, chasing their own highs. Kessler was going feral from seeing you in this broken state. And yet you were still taking his cock so well, not even an ounce of resistance left in you. He came first with a loud groan, pumping his cum all over your face.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” Butcher guided your head in his direction. He was stroking his cock viciously, as you fluttered your tongue against his bobbing head. He came soon after in your mouth and all over your face.

You gave them both a content smile, barely able to keep your eyes open at this point and lazily used your fingers to pick up their cum from your face and then taste it. They both made you feel so dirty. Used.

Seconds passed. Or maybe minutes. Hours even. You couldn’t tell anymore. Time had stopped still, but at some point, you felt the strong, familiar hands of Butcher uncuffing your collar. He stroked your hair, then shot you a gentle kiss on the shoulder. He picked you up in a bridal carry, careful not to touch your bruised butt. “My little pet,” he whispered with a gentle voice, “Let me take care of ya.” He carried you to the bathroom, where Kessler was already preparing the bathtub for you.

[wardenparker]

New Year's Surprise

Jack Daniels x plus size female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 18.7k Warnings: Cursing, alcohol, internalized fatphobia, self esteem issues, pining, meddlesome friends, unwanted attention from a male coworker, light spanking, praise, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, Jack likes being scratched up, reader is described as having fingernails long enough to scratch (no specific length given), the love is requited they're just idiots. Summary: Ginger has a plan to get you and Jack to admit you have feelings for each other. She did not anticipate just how well it would work... Notes: Happy almost New Year everyone! Enjoy a little more winter seasonal smut and fluff from us to you 🥂🍾✨

"You're sure it's not too much, Ging?" Turning in front of the full-length mirror in Ginger's apartment, you inspect the glittering black cocktail dress that your friend helped you pick out at the mall during all those after-Christmas sales she promised you that you would find something at. She was right, like she always is, but now that the dress is on you, you're wondering if you haven't made a mistake. If it's not too revealing, or too short, or too tight.

Whoever in HR came up with this insane Cowboys and Flappers theme for the company New Year's Eve party deserved to have their head examined. You're not the femme fatale agent that gets sent out to seduce men and collect their secrets. Few men out there in the world are ever really seduced by the chubby girl in any given scenario, but it did tend to make you invisible. Invisible women can slip in and out of buildings in literally any kind of uniform and get through security without ever being harassed, and that works to your advantage on almost every case. Unfortunately, it also means that for the five years you've been a Statesman agent, you've also been fairly invisible to the man you've developed feelings for.

It’s perfect.” No matter how many times Ginger Ale tells you that you are sexy just the way you are, that insecurity gets the best of you. “I’m telling you, you will have every eye in the place.”

“I doubt it.” You sigh in the mirror and smooth your hands over the sequined dress one more time. “But that’s okay. I don’t want every set of eyes…”

“I know what set of eyes you want on you.” Your taste in men is your own, and Ginger won’t fault you for it, but she wonders why Jack. “It might do the man good to know that he’s got competition.” You don’t believe her when she says that it’s more telling that Jack doesn’t hit on you, but it’s the truth.

“He doesn’t, though.” Shrugging, you turn away from the mirror and decide to just go on with the night. Wishing won’t make it real and Jack Daniels barely looks at you. Even though you’ve partnered on cases, spend time together in and out of the office, and are arguably friends in every true sense? You’ve always wanted more with him. The only person who knows is Ginger, though, and you prefer to keep it that way since Jack will never return your affection. “And that’s…it is what it is. Even if you’re the only person I dance with tonight, it’ll still be fun.”

“Wearing that dress?” Ginger snorts as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’ll have the faith for both of us, how about that?” She knows that Jack won’t be able to resist you tonight, not when she’s lined up a few of the junior agents to dance with you already. It’s time that Jack settles down and finds some happiness, and what better time than the New Year?

******

While you easily could have had the party at Statesman considering the size of the grounds, Champ wouldn’t hear of it. He’s hosting the damn thing himself come hell or high water, in his favourite suit with his wife dressed to the 9’s in her flapper dress, and more caterers than you’ve ever seen in your life all making his early twentieth century coal baron’s mansion look as resplendent as the day it was built. The place is palatial, with a ballroom so big that the band he’s hired looks tiny in one corner despite being six-men strong. It’s music and liquor and appetizers passing by on trays when you and Ginger walk through the door, and you gasp at how nice it all looks.

“I know he does it every year,” you sigh to your best friend. “But the theme is always different and I swear somehow the house always looks better on new year’s.”

“Champ does know how to throw one hell of a party.” She agrees, snagging two glasses of champagne from a waiter as she walks by. Her own sleek flapper dress is a vivid purple, making her beautiful skin glow and for tonight, she’s wearing contacts. Her short hair is perfectly styled, a cap like illusion, highlighted with the crystal headband she’s picked. “To a New Year we will never forget.” She hands you one glass and adds, “or regret.”

“You’re certainly optimistic.” You flash her and grin and tap the rim of your glass against hers. “Finally going to talk to Alicia or is this just positive vibes?” It’s been two years since Ginger started crushing on the woman who supervises Statesman campus tours and visitor experience, but she hasn’t made a move yet. Being frozen in place with someone you care about is something the two of you have in common.

“Positive vibes.” She huffs, rolling her eyes and trying to change the subject. “Look! There’s Tequila!” She waves the younger agent over to where you are standing. “You made it! Didn’t think you were ever gonna get back from Brazil, or if you wanted to.” She adds with a grin.

“Those are two very different questions.” Tequila agrees with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. Did he have to come back? Sure. But did he want to leave the comfort and luxury of that beautiful woman’s bed? Not at all. “But I would not have missed dancing with you ladies for the world,” he adds with a wink. He’s very much in on Ginger’s plan, after all, and is looking forward to the fireworks it will bring.

You fluster slightly at his words, but Ginger knows that you don’t have your cap set on Tequila. You just don’t handle compliments well. “You’ll have to get in line.” Ginger warns him with a smirk. “As good as Rye looks tonight, every man in here is going to want a dance. After I dance with her first.”

“Well I reckon I’ll have to be second, then.” Tequila puts in a playful pout. “But only because I would never deny Miss Ginger Ale gettin to be first.” He smiles again and tips his hat, having opted to wear his best Stetson with an elegant Kingsman suit. “You don’t have to,” you insist, knowing Tequila always has more choices of dance and bedroom partners than he could ever feasibly make his way through. “I’m sure you have other people you want to dance with tonight.”

“No one important.” Tequila smirks as he drags his eyes up and down your outfit and whistles slowly. “And no one nearly as pretty.” He promises.

“Liar.” Though you roll your eyes at him, you don’t protest anymore than that. He’s your friend, after all. And if he wants to waste his time dancing with you, you’ll just enjoy it. Tequila’s a fantastic dancer, after all.

“Never lie to you, honey.” Tequila croons, taking your hand and lifting it to his lips. “Lie about what?” The voice comes from your left and all eyes swing that way.

“Jack!” Normally you know he’s coming. The smell of earthy, expensive cologne and the tap-click-shuffle of his boots on polished floors. The soft humming he gets up to when he’s pleased with himself, not quite melodic but endearing because it means he’s happy. But you sensed none of that just now, too caught up in the band playing and the fragrant flowers and the tickle of bubbly in your nose and throat. “Nothing. We were just talking about dancing…” He looks like a dream, and it makes you sick to your stomach and elated all at once. Another night of watching him fawn over every woman but you is what you’ve resigned yourself to putting up with, but it’s just rude of him to look so damn handsome in that black velvet double breasted suit and sleek black Stetson while he does it.

“Dancing, hum?” His eyes narrow slightly at the grip Tequila has on your hand and he wants to reach out and slap it away, but he just shoots everyone an easy grin. “Ready to cut a rug tonight, eh?”

"I guess so." The shyness that threatens to shoot straight through you is knocked off kilter by Ginger, who hoots in response. "She's got her dance card all filled up already, Whiskey. Should've gotten here earlier," she tells him with a smirk.

His mustache ticks, it’s the only change to his facial expression. “I’m sure Rye can squeeze me in.” His dark amber eyes slide over to you and swipe up and down your body. “Can’t you, sugar?”

"Of course." You'd throw over the whole goddamn list for him. Besides, you have no idea what Ginger could possibly mean by saying your 'card' is full. One dance with her and one with Tequila isn't a full anything. "Of course I can."

“Good. Then how about I refresh you ladies’ drinks?” Jack asks, slapping Tequila on the back a little rougher than necessary. “Come help me with that.”

"Sure." Tequila grunts, throwing you a confused expression like he can't figure out why the hell Jack needs help getting champagne when waiters with trays are everywhere, but he shoots Ginger a secret smirk before following Jack into the next room where the open bar is set up.

“Tonight will be perfect.” Ginger predicts with a smug grin as she watches the two men walk towards the open bar. .

“What the hell are you doin’, flirtin’ with Rye?” Jack’s easy grin falls away and his brows knit together as soon as his back is turned to you. “You know that girl ain’t your type.”

"I can't be nice to my friend?" Tequila asks, pretending to be positively aghast that Jack would suggest he's up to anything else. One hand ever goes to his chest with a dramatic gasp.

Jack’s eyes cut towards the other agent, a frown on his face. “It’s one goddamn thing to be nice, it’s another to flirt.”

"When did I flirt?" The younger agent counters, knowing full well that's what he was doing but not about to admit it because he wants to make Jack stew.

“You were flirtin’ the second you can outta your momma, but you gotta learn there’s certain girls you don’t do that shit with.” Jack growls, stopping in front of the bar and holding up two fingers. “Double 62 Triple Barreled.” He orders, wanting one of the rare whiskeys that Champ had broken out tonight. “And two champagnes.”

"Now, why is that, Jack?" Tequila hums, looking down at his friend. Jack isn't too much shorter than him, but just enough to annoy the older agent on occasion. "Why is Rye one of those girls?"

“Because…” that’s where his argument ends, because there’s not really a reason beyond his own feelings. “It’s…unprofessional.” He decides. “She’s an agent for Christ’s sake.”

Tequila snorts at this string of logic, accepting his drink from the pretty bartender with a wink and sliding a large bill into the tip glass on the bar top before looking back at Jack. "That's a load of horse shit and you know it, Daniels. You fucking know it."

He does know it, but he snatches his own drink up and rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” He hates that his stomach twists and he wonders if you had been flirting back. Looking over his shoulder at where you are standing, he clenches his jaw at the tassels that are swaying every time you move. “Don’t get her damn hopes up.” He takes a sip of his whiskey. “We both know you ain’t gonna fuck her.”

"Nor does she want me to." This is gonna be a hell of a lot easier than he and Ginger thought, if Jack is always so fuckin wound up over you and he only just arrived for the night. "I ain't the one she has her eye on and everybody with eyes knows it."

Jack ignores that, huffing to himself as he tries to hid the fucking jealousy that curls in his gut at whoever you do have your eye on. Lucky son of a bitch. “No fuckin’ talkin’ to you, hardheaded S.O.B.” The champagne glasses are in front of him and he downs the rest of the drink to slap the crystal glass down and snatch up the flutes. Turning around without another word and stalking across the room towards you and Ginger.

It's only one room he has to cross, but by the time he gets there, Agent Brandy has sidled up beside you and Ginger and has his fingers ever so subtly on your elbow while bends his head and puts all his focus directly on you.

Halfway across the room, Jack jerks to a halt and growls, shaking his head as he resumes the walk and forces a moderately friendly smile on his face. “Didn’t think you’d be back from Korea, Don.” He interrupts as he arrives back at your group.

"Two days ago." Brandy flashes a smile in Jack's general direction but keeps his focus on you. "Glad I made it back in time, too. Champ throws a hell of a party."

His eye twitches but Jack nods. “Yeah he does. Shoulda brought that little gal you were seein’. Brandy. Brenda right? Or was it Bambi?” He shrugs. “Maybe all of them at once, knowin’ you.”

"Now don't be unkind, Jack." Brandy's eyes cut over to the older agent and Brandy offers what could be considered a modestly dramatic pout. "Or Rye might think the worst of me and throw me over for that dance I just got promised."

Jack seethes beneath the smile on his face. “Would hate for that to happen.” He lies, handing Ginger one of the glasses and then offers the other to you.

The glass is offered with a smile and you thank Jack, savoring even the tiniest moment of contact between brushing fingers as he hands it over. It's probably bordering on pathetic, how long you've carried this torch for Jack, and it seems like Ginger is really trying to encourage you tonight to come out of your shell tonight but you just don't know. As nice as everyone is being, it doesn't feel right. The only thing that feels right is when you're around Jack. It's just a damn shame that he doesn't feel the same.

It’s almost painful how the simple, innocent touch affects him. Now visceral his reaction is. Only the training that Statesman has given him keeps him from showing anything. “Well,” he hates to tear himself away, but he can’t be around you for too long. “I better go talk to Champ about some cases he wants worked tomorrow.” He offers.

"It's a party," you remind him, smile flickering as he steps back. Obviously the small touch that you'll be savoring for the rest of the night has had the opposite effect on him. But there's no need to show that. Not when it's fully expected that he doesn't want to be around you when there are plenty of other people to talk to and women to dance with. "Don't work too hard, okay?"

“Never do,” he nods at everyone and turns around and skedaddles over to Champ like his pants are on fire.

"Come on," Ginger loops her arm through yours and lends Brandy a smirk that you don't notice — you're too busy trying not to look after Jack. "Let's go dance, honey. The night is young and we are looking far too good not to show off."

Champ eyes Jack as he stops by his side. “Figured you’d have a gal in your arms by now.” He huffs as he reaches out to shake Jack’s hand. “Losing your touch?” Jack snorts. “When have I ever lost my touch?” He asks, pointedly refusing to look back over towards you. “Just surveying my prospects.”

"And how is Agent Rye this evening?" Champ doesn't even have to look to know that that's where Jack has just come from. He blew into the room so quickly that it's the only explanation for the fire in his heels.

“Don’t you start with me.” Jack groans, shaking Champ’s hand and huffing. “Far as I know, she’s dandy.”

"Why should I not start?" Champ knows damn well why not, but he enjoys riling up his friend. "Somebody beat me to the punch?"

“Every-goddamn-body here tonight is actin’ like they’ve never seen the woman in a dress.” He snorts, complaining about it even though he has already memorized the way the damned sequined dress clings to your curves and enhances them in ways that should be criminal. “It’s damned ridiculous and borderline workplace harassment.”

Smirking, Champ pours two glasses of his preferred Statesman 1972 Select, savoring the smoked cherry notes from that particular year. He hands one cut crystal glass over to Jack with his tongue set firmly in his cheek. "You know you'd be a hell of a lot less mad if you just asked the lady to dance your damn self."

The glare Jack cuts Champ is withering and he turns his head as he takes a sip, refusing to rebuff the remark. It seems like everyone is taking the piss with him tonight as Eggsy would say. (edited)

"She's allowed to have fun, ya know." Champ goes on, humming the thought as though the glare Jack just shot him wouldn't have struck a lesser man dead in his tracks. "Damn shame she hasn't set her cap on anyone. Big family dreams, that gal has. Always has. It'll be a damn shame when she finally decides to hang up her pistols and have a family, but I won't let her get farther than the training ring. Too good of an agent to just let her retire."

“Is there a point to your ramblings?” Jack grumbles. “Or are you just spouting shit tonight?”

"Do what I want in my own house." The older man chuckles heartily and claps Jack on one shoulder. "Got a couple of jobs to start the new year with. Come see me tomorrow and we'll figure out which one's yours."

He’s being dismissed and since Champ is also giving him hell, Jack quickly nods and walks off. Trying to walk around the ostentatious ballroom without looking at you. “Hello handsome.” A perfectly manicured hand drapes itself over his shoulder and the scent of gardenias and sandalwood fills his nostrils. “Tiffany.”

Like a bloodhound on a trail, you spot it from across the ballroom without even trying to. Twirling around with Ginger, your eyes catch sight of the gorgeous, skinny, leggy blonde who has let herself drape over Jack's side and you sigh. Deflate is probably the right word, but you remind yourself it was never going to happen anyway and just hold on to Ginger as the song comes to an end.

“What’s a tall, dark, handsome drink of water like you doin’ all by your lonesome?” She purrs, making him hide the wince he had at the put on accent of hers. She’s as southern as tofu and yet she tries to make it sound like she’s grown up around here. Still, she’s a distraction and the best part about it is that there’s no emotional strings. “Looks like I should be buyin’ you a drink, darlin’.”

"I wish you would," she puts on a too-high giggle and bats eyelashes heavy with mascara and augmented with false hairs. Laying it on thick, she pushes in even closer and lets her body fit against his with nothing left to the imagination.

Jack doesn’t feel anything but he paints a cocky smirk on his face as he turns to her. “Then let me go get something for you, what do you want, darlin’?”

“Champagne, of course,” she simpers, never once considering the fact that she’s at a party for a whiskey distillery. Hell, she hadn’t even dressed for the theme.

Tiffany hangs out at the bar Statesman regularly hangs out at. A groupie because she knows everyone there makes good money. He’d bet his bottom dollar she conned Scotch into bringing her.

“Some party.” Is her attempt at conversation, putting more effort into showing off her cleavage than completing sentences. “You distillery boys sure know how to treat your gals.”

“Of course we do.” Jack’s smile is wicked, but it’s a part of the persona he adopts when he is working a target, it’s not real. “Any gal of mine deserves to be treated right.”

“Is that an invitation?” She knows who Jack is. Knows the civilian job title he’s been at Statesman Distillery. Even if she knew what it was all a front for, she likely wouldn’t care. She might just try harder if she knew the real wealth being flung around between a lot of these people.

“Now sweetheart, I’m good for a night or two.” Jack drawls. “But I’ve got a lot of leavin’ left to do.” He hums, quoting the country song.

The pout on Tiffany’s face is both dramatic and pronounced, but seeing that he’s immovable in that point — and knowing his reputation — she makes a small sound of frustrated disgust before flouncing away. Apparently annoyed at having wasted her time on a line cowboy.

The huff that Jack lets out is one of pure relief. Happy that he won’t have to deal with her again for at least half the night. She might make her way back around depending on successful she is. It’s shameful to say, but most of the agents here have dallied with her, including Jack. However, he had only taken her home to satisfy a physical need. He slowly makes his way back to the bar to order another drink, not champagne.

His line of sight is unfortunate as he saunters back toward the open bar. Looking back out to the dance floor, he can see Tequila twirling you around and the two of you laughing as the younger man holds you close and mock-sings along with the band.

Jack’s frown is deep, furrowing his brow as he cuts his eyes away in a jealous huff.

It goes round and round like that for most of the night. One dance partner after the next sweeps you across the dance floor but never the partner you want. One beautiful woman after another sidles up to Jack and bats their eyelashes but none are the woman he actually wants at his side. It’s a three-ring-circus. A whirlwind. But you never seem to get close enough to each other to see that neither of you is actually having any fun.

It’s easy to have an arm around a woman, easy to smile and flirt. His eyes continuously find you on the dance floor. Ginger had been right apparently, you had a damn dance card that was slap full. He hisses under his breath, wondering how many of those men knew you bit your thumb when you were working out a problem or that your eyes changed to a lighter shade when you were feeling slightly bashful.

There isn’t a single night of your life where you’ve gotten this much attention from this many different men — or this many different people period — and while it’s fun in a whirlwind sort of way, you do find yourself clock-watching. Wondering why your fellow agents all seem to be paying you so many compliments tonight and why you sort of feel like Cinderella at the ball without a hint of the real Prince Charming, the closer it gets to midnight the more you’re thinking of just going home. The last thing you want is to glance across the ballroom at midnight and see Jack tangled up in a midnight kiss with some petite redhead or statuesque model with perfect curls. You’ll be happier skipping out early and being in your pjs with a book at midnight than you will be witnessing that.

It’s fucking infuriating to have so many people come between him and you. Every dang time he untangles himself to break in on your dance with some partner, Ginger, Tequila or Champ waylay him. He’s never had such a hard time getting to chat with you and it’s making him slowly unravel his temper. “Ah Jack, there you are.” He sighs and paints on a smile when Champ claps his back and shoves a drink in his hand. “Forgot to mention somethin’….” His eyes slide away from you laughing as you are spun around, bitter to be stonewalled again.

“Well if it ain’t the gol’dern Belle of the Ball.” The voice you hear behind you is the one person you were hoping to avoid tonight, and as you’ve just finished dancing with one of the guys from the technology department who you didn’t even think knew your name, there’s no escaping. Agent Vodka is one of those older men who doesn’t realize that James Bond is just a character and that no one drags that persona into their everyday life. He routinely ‘flirts’ with you like he’s bestowing you a huge goddamn favor for even looking in your direction, and you were genuinely hoping to avoid him tonight.

Vodka is handsome in a classical sense, some would say a silver fox, if he had a better attitude. As it stands, there’s a confused tilt to his Stetson adorned head and he rakes his eyes up and down your body in a very calculated gaze. “You musta cleaned up for hours. Getting ready for a good night.”

“Sure. I guess so.” You nod, tone polite but dismissive. Vodka has a tendency to interpret friendly as begging for hands to be put on you, and the last thing you want to do is encourage him. “Happy new year, Vodka.”

“Seems like Whiskey and I have been the only ones not with you tonight.” He intones, smirking slightly. “Guess you was savin’ the best for last, huh? Since Jack’s hangin’ all over the ladies, I’ll step in and claim this dance.” He doesn’t ask for permission, just stepping up to you and grabbing your waist.

“That’s really okay.” Reeling backward, Vodka is strong but your self-defense training is a hell of a lot better, and you twist in his grip to make sure he can’t get a solid hold on you no matter how hard he tries. “Appreciate the offer,” you huff, trying to push him away. “But I was just heading home.”

“Oh don’t be that way.” Vodka huffs and manages to pull you close. “Believe me, dancin’ ‘s just a prelude to what we can do later.”

“Which is exactly why I don’t want to dance with you.” You push back against him again, leveraging your elbow against his side to loosen his grip with a sharp shot to his liver. This has gone too far and is hovering on ruining the night — which has been fairly fun despite its lack of your favorite cowboy and coworker.

“Jack-“ Ginger doesn’t bother apologizing as she taps his shoulder and points out to the dance floor. “Why don’t you go save Rye?” She huffs.

At this point it’s obvious that it’s a struggle. People are giving you extra space on the dance floor as they realize what’s happening but for whatever godforsaken reason, no one has stepped in yet. Probably because they’re too shocked that Vodka has finally crossed the line into being physically inappropriate instead of just saying uncomfortable things.

“Sugar, I’m sorry I’m late for our dance.” Jack slaps his hand down on Vodka’s shoulder and digs his fingers into the fleshy muscle. Getting satisfaction from the immediate change in the man’s stance. “Don’t mind if I interrupt, do ya?” His tone is friendly, but there’s a warning woven in the words. Dark eyes turn towards you as you quickly step back from the other man’s grasp.

“Wouldn’t have thought you’d keep a dame waitin’.” Vodka mumbles, all sheepishness and apology now that he realizes he’s infringed on another man’s territory.

Jack doesn’t rip into the man like he wants to, everyone else is starting to relax and resume the party. “You probably need to lay off the liquor.” He tells the other agent, not really caring for the man either.

“You forget who we work for, Daniels?” Vodka huffs, giving Jack the stink eye. “Not like you go easy, either.”

“Last time I checked, I took no for an answer, Robbins.” Jack turns his back after letting Vodka go and sweeps you into his arms, effectively dismissing him.

The room damn near erupts into applause, chattering all around you erupting out of uncomfortable silence, but you don’t hear it. You don’t even see Tonic and Champ escorting Vodka out of the ballroom with the utmost immediacy so the dressing-down can be vocal and private. All you see is Jack, and all you hear is Jack. Even as quiet as he is, the huff he gives as he scoops you up and twirls you away speaks volumes. “Jack, you—you didn’t have to—” Of course, if he hadn’t, you’re not sure you could’ve gotten away so cleanly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t think a thing of it, sugar.” Although he has a few harsh words rolling around for everyone who didn’t step in. It’s like they were waiting for something. Alcohol’s done made their brains addled. “Although my own apologies for manhandling you to get you outta that sticky situation.” Even though he’s apologizing, he starts to lead you in a dance.

“I really don’t mind.” And that is the understatement of the goddamn year, as you instinctively melt against Jack the second he starts to move.

“Still…..” There’s finally a bit of happiness to the evening and he smirks down at you. “Now you can say your dance card has been filled.”

“Could’ve left Vodka off it completely,” you grumble lightly, but you still end up smiling. When Jack looks at you in almost any way you just light up from the inside. It’s instinctual.

“Don’t know what got into him.” Jack huffs, even though he’s saved you from encounters like that before.

“His namesake, most likely.” He had smelled like it, at least. A fact which added no charm whatsoever to your encounter. “Really, Jack. Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Jack nods. “Sugar, you know that I know you are a capable agent. You coulda mopped the floor with him, but I’ll always give you whatever help you need.”

“I prefer not to bring hand-to-hand combat to Champ’s front door if I can help it.” If you let yourself really chew on the fancy, you could imagine Jack as rescuing you like a knight in armor. Like you were his to protect. “Not sure how much he’d appreciate that, regardless of how capable I am.”

“I think you’d find Champ more forgivin’ than you think.” He snorts, reminding himself of his own major fuck up just a few years prior. Champ had forgiven him and allowed him to regain the trust and confidence that he had destroyed through his own bling grief and rage.

“Maybe.” Jack certainly knows your boss better than you do even after several years with the agency, so you’ll differ from him. “But I’m glad to not have to find out. And…” The rest of the thought gets swallowed, and you cut your eyes away from him in embarrassment. There are some things better left unsaid and normally you’re so good at keeping your mouth shut.

“And?” Jack frowns slightly, not liking that you are holding back with him. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

“It’s nothing,” you promise him, shaking your head and acting like it isn’t the biggest, most honest confession in the world from you that sets your cheeks on fire and makes you even more bashful around him. “I’m just…glad I got to dance with you. That’s all.”

“You didn’t think you were going to dance out the old year without ole Jack now, did ya?” He sounds pouty that you would even think that.

"Honestly?" Shrugging slightly even with one of his hands splayed across your back and the other holding yours tenderly against his chest, you wonder how ever you ever manage to keep a damn thing to yourself with him around when your mind just sort of seems to melt in his presence. "I was going to split and ring in the new year in my bed with the book I've been reading."

Jack frowns and shakes his head, not agreeing with your plans in the slightest. “Now that seems like a waste.” He draws. “Mighty fine night to spend readin’ a book. You should be doin’ other things.”

"Not a lot of other options to pick from," you mumble, trying to force your mind away from immediately conjuring the mental images and repeated daydreams of doing just about everything under the sun with — and to — him.

Jack wants to protest that, but the song starts to close out and you almost stop in your tracks. Obviously believing that he will end the dance now that Vodka is gone and the set is done. Instead of dropping your hands, he pulls you tighter against him. “Is that why you wore a dress like that, sugar? ‘Cause you didn’t have any options?”

"Ginger picked it out." Wrongly assuming it to be an indictment of the choice, you frown reflexively and wonder why he's still holding on to you. The trouble is over and the song is done. Shouldn't he be finding someone better to spend his time with? "I know it's...it's not right. Flapper dresses are designed for women who look the opposite of me. But she insisted on sticking to the theme."

“Opposite of you?” He makes a face of utter confusion. “What are you talkin’ ‘bout? Dress looks good, fits you.” Maybe you have a shit ton of pins in the dress? His sweet wife would always have to pin her dresses to get them to fit right. Nearly every night they went out, he was helping her pin it just so.

Skinny is what you meant, but instead of saying so you just chew your lip and shake your head. Voicing that out loud would really just cement the ruination of the night and you don't want to do that. "Never mind," you insist instead. "I'm glad you like it." Even if he's just saying it to be nice, which you're sure he is, it's still nice to hear.

There’s something bugging him about the way you continuously quit talking and get around what you mean. The next song starts to play and Jack moves to that slightly faster tempo. “No one’s breakin’ in yet, sugar. So I’m keepin’ you unless you need a break?”

"No." Not from him. You would never, ever ask for a break from him. "No, I'm good." In fact, you've been so distracted by the rescue that you haven't noticed midnight creeping ever-closer. "I don't want a break."

Jack smiles, not the cocky smirk he adopts or the charming playboy facade that he uses on women like Tiffany. This is a genuine smile, one that makes his dimple show with a flash of white teeth and the crow’s feet around his eyes appear. “Then let’s dance, sugar.”

Champ chuckles when he sidles up beside Ginger with a fresh glass of champagne for each of them and his wife on his other arm, all ready to lead the midnight countdown after this song is over. "Took all damn night," he laughs to his co-conspirator. "And ya had to pull out the big gun with Vodka. But look at 'em."

“Man huffed and puffed at being used.” Ginger rolls her eyes and curls her lip. “But I promised him the Antarctic assignment. It will seem like punishment to everyone else and apparently he’s romancing one of the scientists down there.” Personally, she doesn’t see why anyone would be romanced by Vodka, but to each their own.

"It's for a damn good cause." Champ stifles a guffaw and even his wife looks amused at the way everything went down. "Everybody deserves to be happy, don't they? Even Vodka." It earns another snort from the older man and he aims a smirk at Ginger. "So what's the plan from here, Ging?"

“If Jack will get off his ass, there should be a kiss at midnight.” Ginger grins. “And maybe, just maybe, the dumbass will realize that it’s okay to want her. She wants him too.”

"Of course she does." Everybody knows that. Everybody with eyes and sense in their head, anyway. "He's just been stuck in the whole of his own grief for far too damn long. It's about time he broke free. Which is exactly why I went along with this plan of yours."

“I’m glad you did. Jack’s felt so guilty about actually developing feelings for Rye that he’s convinced himself that it’s wrong to flirt with her.” She takes a sip of her champagne. “When he breaks, it’ll be entertaining.”

"Entertaining for all of us." Grinning, Champ holds his glass out to his partner in crime in salute. "I sure as hell hope it happens right here for all of us to see."

Unaware that he’s being plotted against, Jack continues to hold you in his arms, taking you around the dance floor and trying to keep from asking too many questions that would potentially ruin his easy relationship with you. “Have you had fun? Other than Vodka? Your feet have to be killin’ you, all the dances you’ve been movin’ to.”

“It’s alright, I’ll have a hot bath and soak them. Aside from the one little interruption, everything’s been so nice.” This is the best part, without a doubt. Attention from other people is a novelty, the compliments and laughter a kind change of pace. But any time spent with Jack will always out do any other experience.

“A nice hot soak and a drink is always good to unwind.” Jack hums. “If other activities aren’t available.” The comment is warm, almost suggestive as he twists you around and then pulls you close again, feeling your softness against him and enjoying it.

It’s the worst kind of gut punch, hearing a comment like that from Jack, and your eyes are downcast when you curl back into his arms. It’s too unkind to be deliberate, but at the same time it’s such a careless comment that you just want to scream. He would never be intentionally cruel to you but the flirtatious tone of the comment is too much. “Maybe I should’ve gone with Vodka, then.”

Jack stiffens, frowning immediately and his blood pressure rises in anger. “What the fuck?” He hisses, the moment making him grip you tighter, almost the point of hurting you. “Why- you?” He’s at a loss for words right now.

“Well it’s the only offer I’ve gotten in…a year? Maybe more?” You shrug dismissively but his grip on you doesn’t allow for it, making your tone turn even more bitter in the process. He doesn’t get to get mad about who offers when he has no interest in himself. “Definitely more than a year, now that I think about it.”

“That wasn’t a goddamn offer.” He snorts. “It was a cowboy playin’ grab ass when his partner wasn’t willing.” He reminds you, dark eyes flashing angrily. “Otherwise known as assault.”

“And yet it’s still the only time any man has looked at me twice in more than a calendar year,” you hit back, practically hissing under your breath as embarrassed tears sting at your eyes. “Nobody’s exactly lining up to spend time with the fat girl except tonight which is Ginger’s doing. I know it is.” (edited)

The two of you are hissing back and forth, so preoccupied with your emotions that neither one of you are aware of the fact that the countdown for midnight has begun. The crowd around you starts to chant down from ten but Jack's too busy growling at you in anger. "Why are you so fuckin' quick to insult every goddamn person who decided to dance with you?"

“Because I know I’m right.” The two of you have never once torn into each other like this and while it breaks you’re heart, you’re so angry that lashing out is happening by instinct. It hurts so much more to be doubted by him and you can’t even express why. It’s devastating. “Do you even know what assignments they give me, Jack?” You hiss back, not hearing the shouts around you. “The ones where they need someone to be invisible! If they need someone plain and ignorable, they come straight to me. Do you know how much that fucking hurts? Because I’m good at it and that’s even worse than them just assuming. I’m excellent at not being noticed. At not being desired. It’s my fucking superpower. So no, I don’t think for a second that any of these dances were genuine moments of interest or offers for literally anything else. Because why would they be?”

His heart breaks and he's simultaneously enraged that you view yourself that way. "Five! Four! Thr—" He reaches up and grabs the back of your neck to yank you forward so your nose is less than an inch from his own. "You want a goddamn offer?" He snarls, losing all sense of reason when it comes to you and ready to prove how wrong you are. "Here's your fuckin' offer." Without another word, he drags you forward to plaster his lips against yours in an angry kiss.

It should feel terrible. It should make you so angry you slap him. It should make you feel a hell of a lot of nasty things, but instead what you feel is the undeniable melting of your own self against him, finally getting the only thing you’ve wanted since the day this infuriating cowboy sauntered into your life. Jack is firm under your hands, burning hot and intoxicatingly inviting in the way he does not pull away. You must have gotten so mad you blacked out, because this is impossible.

When you don’t push him away, when you don’t slap him, Jack growls. Using the soft sigh that you give to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth with another groan as the cheers and sing of Auld Lang Syne happens all around the two of you.

Either you’ve burst a blood vessel from being so angry and ashamed or this is the best dream you’ve ever had. Jack wraps both of his arms tight around you and you cling to him, fists dig into the arm of his suit jacket and the hair on the nape of his neck as you silently beg this hallucination never to end. You can live and die in this moment and tell yourself that it was more than a dream. You can imagine this is exactly how fiercely Jack kisses when he really wants to. When he wants someone.

The kiss has turned from an angry mashing of his lips against yours to a passionate mingling of your breath and tongues. You whimper and his entire body tighten with need. Overriding the portion of his brain that is screaming that this is a bad idea, that he is bad for you and continuing to kiss you as everyone else has moved into dancing now.

Neither one of you has realized that his hat has been knocked off, or that he’s drawn you so close your back has bowed, or even that you’ve entirely given up on needing to breathe in order to never have to stop kissing him. Years of repressed desire and soul-crushingly unrequited love are just being poured into every second you spend drowning in this impossible fantasy.

“Well damn.” Champ chuckles from his position on the dance floor with his lovely wife. “Didn’t expect that long of a show. Boy don’t stop soon, he’s gonna devour her right there in the middle of the floor.”

“That’s what happens when you repress your feelings for six goddamn years,” Ginger snorts in amusement. “Should I go interrupt them?”

“No.” Champ decides with a shake of his silvery head. “Leave ‘em. Don’t want the boy to get spooked before he makes up his mind what’s gonna happen next.”

“And he will.” Ginger agrees with that completely. Jack spooks faster than a newborn foal.

“He would, where she’s concerned. Boy has his heart in it and he’s been fightin’ it.” Champ agrees as his wife chuckles. “He will figure it out.” She promises. “Rye won’t let him walk away from this with a smile and a handshake.”

“I think she’d rather die than let him go, at this rate.” The smile on Ginger’s face is soft. Glad that her friend is finally getting everything she — you — have ever wanted. It really is only oxygen that makes the two of you pull apart, panting for breath with fingers curled into each other’s flesh and clothes like you’re hanging on for dear life.

Jack’s eyes are dark and searching as he looks at you. Looking for the answer to a question and when he finds what he’s looking for, he grabs your hand and starts to drag you off the dance floor.

“Jack?” The realization that that really just happened ignites a small panic in your chest and a riot in your mind, and the fact that Jack hasn’t let go of you or run off in disgust is only confusing you more.

He doesn’t speak, he can’t speak right now. The people on the floor just seem to part, moving out of his way as he guides you off the floor. He does squeeze your hand though.

“Jack?” The longer he goes without saying anything the higher the panic rises, but you cling to his hand all the way to the front door of Champ’s house where the front room has been transformed into a coat closet.

Jack doesn’t answer and spins you around to press you up against the wall, kissing you again. “Get your fuckin’ coat.” He demands roughly.

It’s a much briefer kiss but it leaves you breathless all the same, and the determination in his eyes makes you shiver and rush to obey. If this is what you’re going to get with him — just a few demanding kisses before he decides it was a mistake and turns you away? Then you’ll take it.

His hat is missing, Jack realizes when he goes to readjust it and frowns. Patting his head and looking around to see if it fell off around here, but it’s nowhere in sight. It’s a small price to pay, but he runs his hand through his hair as you rush back to his side. “We’re leaving.”

He doesn’t seem angry, but for the life of you there is no version of tonight that goes any further. Not in your mind. A conversation about how you shouldn’t have kissed him — or at least kissed him back, since you have a dim memory of his hand pulling you to him right before your mind went blank — or at least about how it was a mistake is bound to follow.

The second your hand is in his again, Jack is dragging you through the doors and down the stairs of the house to his Bronco. He’s parked close, thank god and he can barely get the door open before he’s grabbing your waist and practically throwing you up into the seat.

It shouldn't be a thrill to be lifted up and tossed around as though you weigh next to nothing, but there is something in Jack's singular determination and focus that tells you not to question or fight it. If he wants to manhandle you a little before whatever uncomfortable confrontation is bound to happen? Well, it's not as though you haven't literally fantasized about that scenario. At least now you have a frame of reference.

He’s holding onto his control, barely. Racing around the front of the vehicle and jumping in beside you. He can’t even talk to you as he starts the engine. Thankful that his place isn’t too far away as he throws the Bronco into gear and slings gravel as he spins out.

The most surprising part might be that he reaches for your hand as he drives. His fingers curl through yours and hold onto you on top of the gear shift, not letting you do your usual thing of shifting away or curling in on yourself in uncertainty.

There’s only two miles left to go. He grunts as he slows down to make the turn and your hand moves the shifter with him, making sure that he doesn’t squeeze it too hard as he goes through the gears.

He's driving to his own house. You've done this route yourself more times than you can count for a thousand different reasons. The apartment that you rent with your ample Statesman salary is well on the other side of Louisville and Ginger lives closer to you than to Jack, so it's not like you have any doubt where he's headed. When he pulls the Bronco down his long and winding driveway toward the large farmhouse he's called home for a decade already, your hand tightens slightly in his, nervous and wondering what will come next.

When he cuts the engine, there’s a half a second before he opens the door. Almost speaking but he doesn’t. Instead, he’s climbing out to walk around the truck to open the door.

"I wish you would say something." Even if he's helping you out of the car and holding onto your hand, you can't figure out what's going on in his head. Not having any clue is making you a little panicky the longer it goes on.

Jack stops, two steps away from the path to the front door. “Do you want to come inside?” There’s a fear that you don’t want this. That you are not on the same page as he is.

He's not angry. Or upset anymore, that you can tell. But the determination in his gaze is still there for something that you can't quite put your finger on. "Yes," you decide, nodding as you step toward both him and the house. "I do." Whatever happens, you're hopeful it won't be bad.

You said yes. Your words spur him on again and he’s off like a shot, dragging you behind him. The biometric lock is a godsend. There’s no fumbling for a key at the door as he hustles you inside and slams it behind you both, pressing you against it as he attempts to devour your mouth once more.

This was not the reaction you expected. Not in any way. Not even when he had kissed you twice at Champ’s house before hauling you over to his place with the fires of hell scorching his toes. Anybody else might have read the signals, but not you. Not with the surprised squeal you let out or the soft moan that follows it — both completely outside of your control.

You’re alone now and this time, Jack doesn’t keep his hands on your waist. Both hands grab firm handfuls of your delightful round ass and squeezes as he presses into you. His painfully hard cock grinding into the soft pouches of your hips.

Because of the complete blanket of disbelief you're living under, it takes you longer than you're proud of or will ever admit to realize what is pressing against your hip. It's the first throbbing twitch from under his perfectly tailored suit that has your eyes flying open and both of your hands pressing firmly on his shoulders, breaking the kiss as you gasp in surprise.

“What- I thought-“ Jack’s frown is one of utter confusion as he drops his hands and steps back from you. Hating the feeling of rejection and suddenly wondering if he’s made a fucking fool of himself by getting twisted in knots by a woman who doesn’t actually want him. “‘m sorry.”

"Why?" The incredulous question is out of your mouth before you can stop it, and the confusion marring both of your faces makes you suck in a deep breath. "I—I just—I'm surprised," you admit, as damned foolish as that makes you sound. Fucking shocked is what you are, but you don't want to be labor the point and ruin whatever is happening.

He feels foolish and embarrassed, like he’s been caught with his hand in a candy jar. Reaching up and running his hand through his hair, he blows out a breath. “You said you wanted to come in.” He reasons. “I- what did you think would happen?”

"I—I don't know," you admit, feeling even more ridiculous than he does. Your back is still against his front door, crying out loud. "I ruled out you still being mad at me after you kissed me again but I didn't think..." Gesturing at him lamely, you blow out a breath and rub at the back of your neck. "I'm not saying I want to stop, I was just surprised." If this is the only chance you're going to get with him? You're going to take it and run with it as long as it lasts.

He frowns again, wondering how you could want him and yet be surprised when he wants to take you to bed. “So what do you want, sugar? Because I’m feeling like a penny at the bottom of a pan, rattled.”

The expression cracks the tension, at least for you, and an unexpectedly bright and beaming smile graces your lips as you reach for him boldly and find to your own delight and continued surprise that he doesn't draw away. "What I want is...a long shot." It's more than that, but you're downplaying your own fears to a rather extreme degree right now. Trying to be brave. "But...what are the odds you were thinkin' about taking me upstairs?"

“House odds.” Jack rasps out, knowing that the odds are always in the house’s favor when playing at a casino. “Pondered the idea of strippin’ you down right here and making you squeal against the door, but then tossin’ you over my shoulder and haulin’ you to my large, luxurious bed also has its merits.”

You genuinely have to shut your eyes to steady yourself, exhaling long and deep and praying you aren't actually moaning out loud like you are in your head. As it stands, both images he paints have your knees weak and your body shivering. "Eith—um—either one," you manage to stammer out, eyelashes parting so hesitantly that they flutter like wings. "Either one is good."

“Sexy as you look, sugar….” Now that he knows that you are on the same page as him, a little bit of the cocky swagger is back. “Thinkin’ it’d be a goddamn shame not to spread you out.” Despite your stature, Jack tucks his shoulder and scoops you up over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, bolting for the stairs.

"Holy hell, Jack!" A nervous shout and a squeak escape you when he picks you up, and you cling to his jacket as he carries you through the house you've visited innumerable times before.

Chuckling, Jack slaps your ass with his free hand as he ambles up the stairs easily. “Don’t be nervous, sugar, I won’t drop you.”

This time you definitely do moan out loud, too taken by surprise to stop the sound or swallow it before it can come out of your mouth and you know Jack heard.

He grins to himself, slapping your ass again and is rewarded with another moan. “Mmmmhm.” He chuckles. “Rye likes a little bit of light spanking. Noted.”

"Pretty sure I'll like anything you do," you admit ruefully, though you're quickly feeling the constraints of embarrassment fall away as he reaches his bedroom door. This is real. This is really happening.

"I'll keep that in mind when I hogtie you to the bed and lick whipped cream off your body." He teases, kicking open the slightly ajar door and striding into the room to toss you down on the bed like a character in a romance novel. Right now, he doesn't know if he's supposed to be the hero or the villain, feeling a bit like both as his rough handling of you as him immediately reaching for your ankles to pull off your shoes in his eagerness to see you naked in his bed.

“See?” You huff at him, heavy breathing coming from nothing but an undeniable surplus of desire. “That actually sounds sexy coming from you.” Everything does, but his quick fingers are divesting you of your shoes and that reminds you how your Spanx is part of this undressing process — which is the single least sexy thing in the world.

Jack rips off his tuxedo jacket and tosses it down on the floor. Climbing up onto the bed and over you to press against you fully, pinning you down to the bed with a groan. Quickly capturing your lips again in a frenzied kiss.

It makes no damn sense to you, but you’re not going to question it anymore. If Jack could have literally anyone in the world but for tonight he chooses you, then you’re just going to make sure he doesn’t regret it. That decision on your part sort of pulls you out of your nervous shock, and all at once your hands are pulling open his tie and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt with enthusiasm.

“There we go.” Jack groans when you stop acting shocked and start acting. Your hands on his body makes him shake and he can’t help but rock his hips forward. “Sugar.”

He could probably call you whatever he wanted and you would just go with it, but hearing him call you Sugar — that sickly sweet name he favors so much yet seems to bestow on you so rarely? It feels like you might melt so deeply into his plush mattress that you will never get up again.

Moving from your lips takes sheer willpower but he wants to explore more of you. One hand bracing on the bed and the other sliding up to squeeze your breast as he kisses down your chin and to the soft, vulnerable skin of your throat. “Driving me crazy, baby girl.” He coos, voice rough and lusty. “So goddamn pretty.”

No one who has ever met Jack would be surprised to learn how mouthy the cowboy is in bed. He’s mouthy in every other aspect of his life so frankly it would be pretty strange if this was the exception. Still, to hear those words said to you is beyond your wildest dreams. It’s surreal in the most sensational of ways. Even when you had dreamed of being with Jack, you had never dreamed of him praising you.

He groans when your fingernails bite into the skin on his chest as you hastily push the shirt opened. “Tigress, huh?” He growls, squeezing your tit again, a little harder this time and his hard cock pulses against your inner thigh. “Don’t worry, sugar. I’m just as goddamn eager as you. But ‘ole Jack likes a bit of wildness.” He bites down on your shoulder as he chuckles. “We’ll have ourselves one hell of a rodeo tonight.”

If you even knew where half this boldness came from, you might be a little embarrassed. But given the fact that you never thought this would happen, it mostly just feels like you're telling yourself not to waste the chance. Lightning never strikes the same place twice and this is your lightning strike, so you're going to lean into the whole thing if that's what he really wants. Your nails strike a path down his chest but get caught in his undershirt, a fact which makes you huff in frustration and search blindly for the hem to tear off that layer of clothing as well.

Jack groans and finally decides to give you what you want. Pulling back long enough to finish pulling his arms out of the shirt sleeves, he tears the undershirt off and throws it off the side of the bed to reveal his chest. Unable to resist pulling your dress down to pop your breast out and diving back down to wrap his mouth around a nipple.

"Oh fuck." It's a move you weren't expecting, but your back arches off the mattress instinctively to push your chest up and invite him to take and take and take — just as much as he wants to. If you were coherent enough to suggest it you would try to start wiggling out of your dress but as it is the only thing you can focus on is the heat of him surrounding you and the way every place he kisses you seems to catch on fire immediately at the press of his lips.

He suckles, bites and then licks the hard nub in his mouth like he’s gorging himself on you. Because he is. Hands searching for the zipper to your gorgeous dress. It’s beautiful, but it needs to be beautiful on his floor.

"If you want it off, you have to let me sit up," you manage to huff out, barely able to do more than pant at the way he's clearly trying to devour your tits first.

Groaning in protest, his lips are twisting in a pout as he pulls away. Panting breathlessly as he itches to launch himself at you again. “Hurry up, sugar.”

Your hands are shaking when you reach for the zipper, pulling it down and carefully undoing the clasp at the top before letting the heavily sequined cocktail dress slip off of your arms so you can maneuver it over your head. Half-naked in Jack's bed with panties so soaked you could probably wring them out is not how you expected to end this night, but here you are.

“Fuck.” Jack frowns at the tight shapewear he’s met with. “My present’s a little too wrapped for my liking, baby girl.” He hisses, curling his fingers under the layer to start stripping it off of you. “Want you naked.”

"It was the only way that dress was gonna look halfway decent," you mumble, shifting under him and definitely avoiding looking him in the face while he peels the Spanx off of you. It's a little bit too intimate even for the man you've wanted to be intimate with for years — to the point of making you feel completely naked even when you still have your bra and panties on.

He scoffs, nearly ready to whip his knife out and start slicing the material. “Bullshit.” He huffs, happy there’s just the bra and he uses two fingers to flick the four hooks open. “You don’t need nothin’.” Instead of explaining, he’s diving back into your tits while one hand dips into your panties.

“Fuck, Jack!” Instead of a tight reaction of shock, this time he’s rewarded with a moan and your legs falling open for him as the fingers of one hand dig through his thick hair to scratch along the base of his scalp. If he wants you to be bold, you’ll be bold. You’ll be whatever Jack wants as long as you just get to be in his bed for one night.

Jack moans against your tits, incredibly turned on by the pure moxy he’s always loved in you. Despite your utterly untrue view on yourself, you are sassy, sweet and sexy. That’s why he’s unable to resist now that he’s tasted you. Once he’s teased one breast enough, he switches to the other. “Gonna eat you up, sugar. Devour you whole.”

"All yours." It's sort of unintentional, the vow-like nature of the thing, but you're just being honest. You've really been Jack's since the day you met him. Even if it's taken so many damn years to get the two of you into this situation together, it's still the truth. "Whatever you want, handsome."

He groans, fingers sliding through the sweet slick that is covering your folds. “Want you.” He mumbles as he starts to slide his finger deeper, pressing against your entrance.

It's not even in your mind to ask why when he's splitting you open on two thick fingers like that, and you swear if that's how this night is starting you might actually ascend directly to some higher plain if you get to actual sex. "Ha—fuck— you have me."

“Mmmmmm.” He licks your nipple “Not yet.” He pouts, pulling his fingers back out of you to plunge them in again. “But I will, sugar. Cum for me and then I’ll have you like I’ve been dreamin’.”

The curse you groan out is nearly incoherent, more of an agreement than anything else but you'll be damned if you let this moment be anything less than memorable for both of you. Jack hovers over you and you wind your arms around him to encourage him to continue sucking on your tits while his fingers piston in and out of your pussy with determination. You know it won't take too much longer before your legs start to shake, and as if Jack knows it just as intuitively, he curls his fingers inside you and you gasp out a moan of his name.

His teeth nip at your sensitive flesh as he hisses. Feeling how tight your pussy squeezes his fingers and imagines his cock inside you. Tight and fucking scorching hot, just like he had imagined with his hand wrapped around his cock in the shower. “That’s it, pretty girl.” He coos before he sucks on your nipple again. Moaning when you arch up, writhing under him and making the prettiest, most desperate sounds he’s heard in a long time.

No one who has ever been in this bed has ever left it with any remaining doubts about Jack’s skills as a lover, and while you knew that before? Now you understand it oh-so-very deeply. His fingers pump into you mercilessly, curling at just the right angle to make you cry out in pleasure in every pass, and yet somehow he’s managed to keep the angle of that curl perfect while still holding them apart — stretching your eager pussy open and making sure you’re ready to take every inch of him. All of those intricacies combine with the dedication attention he is lavishing on your tits, and when the tense coil of restraint in your belly snaps it explodes into a thousand white-hot stars behind your eyes as you cum for him.

You’re gorgeous when you fall apart, just like he knew you would be. Keeping his fingers moving, he watches, enthralled with you as you cry out his name in a pitch that has his cock throbbing. The hot gush of your pleasure makes his fingers squelch inside you and he groans out your name while he starts to slow down the rhythm of his hand, letting you float down from your orgasm, drawing it out for you.

“Holy hell…” When your eyes open again you’re completely boneless beneath him, giggling softly at the light-as-air feeling in your body that never ever feels lighter than anything.

Dragging his wet fingers out of your cunt is his own personal kind of hell, but the urge to taste you is too great. Watching you with dark eyes as he slips his two fingers into his mouth with a lusty groan.

“Take your pants off.” The way you groan it is nearly an order but you definitely meant it to be begging, though at this point you don’t care. Especially when he arches an eyebrow at you and smirks. “Take your fucking pants off, Jack.”

Chuckling, he shuffles off the bed to oblige you. “Never let it be said I don’t follow orders, sugar.” He winks as he kicks off the tuxedo pants and hooks his fingers into his boxer briefs. “These too?”

“The fact that you even wear underwear is a shock,” you tease, motioning for him to continue stripping and trying — but probably not succeeding — to not stare.

He smirks. “Had to contain the beast for once.” He winks as he drags the tight material down. “Don’t wear ‘em normally.”

The Beast is probably as good a name as any, and you have to swallow a groan when he frees his throbbing cock — already damp with precum. It’s a wonder he can contain it, and you’re caught in between wanting to bend forward and taste him or just lying back for him to have his way with you. Curiosity and a curtain of lust win out on the short struggle, and you lean forward to take the purple head of his cock in your mouth just after he climbs back onto the bed.

“Fuck!” Jack moans out loudly and pushes your head away gently after a moment. “Baby, baby…” he pants. “You keep that up and this rodeo will be over before it starts.”

“Sorry…” Embarrassment burns your cheeks, and you shift back to get under his blankets. “I just had to know…”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Jack huffs. Kneeling on the bed and pulling the covers away as you hide your body away from his eyes. “Just don’t want to embarrass myself by blowing my load because of your pretty mouth before I can hear you scream my name.”

“I already have,” you remind him, a softness in your tone belied by the heat in both of your eyes. “Guess I might have to be a little louder this time.”

“Only if it’s right in my ear.” Jack wraps his hand around his cock and strokes it as he reaches for your thigh. “Buried deep inside that little cunt and feeling like I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

It goes without saying that you’re both clean. All Statesman agents are required to have clean bills of health in order to be on the roster for missions and you’re both active agents. “I—have an IUD.” Is what you tell him instead, shivering a little at the reality of what is about to happen.

Eyes lighting up in delight, Jack’s lips curl up. “Oh sugar, it’s not my birthday yet, why are you showerin’ me with presents?” He coos, sliding his hand up and down your ample thigh. “Pretty as a damn picture.”

The real answer is that you’re desperate to feel him, but you just smirk instead, not wanting to get your heart more involved than it already is. “Because I don’t have a condom and I’ll be damned if we stop now because of it.”

“If you want me to get one…” Jack motions back to his pants. “I have one in my wallet.”

“I don’t want the barrier,” you admit, biting your lip at the extremely vulnerable nature of that confession. “If it’s okay with you.”

His smirk turns into a wicked grin. “You read my mind, sugar. I want to feel all of you.”

You could make a joke about how much of you there is to feel, but just this once you stifle the urge. Opting instead to reach out and gently cup Jack's cheeks in both of your hands before pressing a soft, earnest kiss to his lips. "Then what are you waiting for, Cowboy?”

As you lean back, Jack follows you. Climbing up your body and groaning as he settles between your thighs. “You want to cum again, pretty girl?”

"Not without you this time." The reality of Jack is better than anything you thought so far. Since this miracle is surely once in a lifetime, you want it to be as amazing as possible.

Jack groans your name, pressing his lips to yours in another hot, wet kiss. Passionate and consuming as he pushes an arm underneath you. “I’m right here with you.”

As impossible as it seems, he really is. He is right there with you, taking you in his arms and making you feel delicate and desirable for the first real time in your entire adult life.

He doesn’t rush, although he wants to. Every kiss is slow and thorough. Reaching down between you to take hold of himself to notch at your entrance. “Hold on, sugar. See if we can ride for longer than eight seconds.”

“I’m not gonna buck you, Jack.” You can promise him that, because you know damn well you’re going to hold onto this moment for dear life and not question the gift that it is. This one little shining moment is just for the two of you and you’re never going to forget a single second of it.

His eyes are watching, burning into yours as he starts to slowly rock his hips forward. Breaking you open with the first inch of his cock and swooping in to kiss you again when you gasp.

The world slows down, motions stretching into time and blending together in ways that you can’t quite wrap your head around so all you know in this moment is Jack. Every time he thrusts forward again your moans get that much deeper, until on the final experimental rock of his hips, he is seated fully inside you and you feel so spellbound and grateful for the moment that you’re all but sure you could cry. Instead you pour yourself into kissing him, rocking your own hips slightly to take him more comfortably and adjust to the weighty feeling of having him inside you.

“Fuck, baby girl.” Jack inhales sharply, stealing your breath as he tries to rein himself in, throbbing violently inside you. If it weren’t for the fact that he had promised you a rodeo, he would be cumming, overwhelmed by how hot and tight you are. You’re perfect, just like he always imagined. “You be a good girl and take my cock, m’kay?”

Good girl is another one of those sticking points for you just like getting your ass slapped, and if Jack had no idea before, he certainly does now, from the way your cunt just spasmed around his length and you moaned like you were coming all over again.

“Ohhhhhh.” Jack’s eyes nearly cross and he gives a particularly sharp thrust when you clamp down around him. “You like that.” He pants out. “You’re my good girl?”

“S’not fair,” you huff, throwing him a playful pout that gets cut by another shaky moan. “You’re finding all the buttons I like pushed way too easily.”

“You haven’t - fuck - figured out my buttons yet, sugar?” Jack ducks his head down and slides the arm not underneath you down your hip and thigh to pull it up higher. Sinking deeper into you with a moan of your name.

“Liking to have your cock sucked doesn’t—fuck!— count,” you tell him, back arching as he hits a new angle inside you.

He chuckles and licks at your pulse before he nips at your skin with his teeth. Fingers digging into your pillowy flesh and groans when you clench around him again.

Finding a rhythm is as easy as breathing. Being with him is so much more natural and intuitive than you dreamt it would be. Your natural tendency to be a little rougher is equaled by his enthusiasm for making the bedroom a loud and raucous experience. There’s no hiding from each other or demurring, not once you get going. It’s like something inside you has finally been unlocked after a lifetime of waiting — waiting for Jack to come along with the key that would open you up.

If it surprises Jack that you are wild in bed, it’s probably the best goddamn surprise he’s ever gotten. His back burns from the raking of your nails when he hits deep. He fucking loves it. Your wildness makes him go absolutely feral over you.

It’s the opposite of who you are in everyday life. A version of you just for him. A version of you that leaves your worries outside the circle of your bodies and embraces sex as something carefree. Which, if you’re honest, isn’t really how you’ve felt about sex with anyone besides Jack. (edited)

His lips and teeth map every inch that he can reach as he pumps in and out of you frantically. Trying to keep the pace hard and fast because every time your cunt clenches, his hips stutter from how fucking tight you are. “Fuck, my good girl.” He growls. “So fucking tight.”

“So fucking big,” you give back, starting to pant heavier and more unevenly. There’s a whine forming in the back of your throat that you can’t hold back and you bite down on the juncture of Jack’s shoulder as your legs threaten to shake all over again. You’re so close to cumming but you don’t want this to end.

Jack changes the tempo, slowing down and grinding his pelvis against your clit. “You gonna cum for me, baby girl?” He rasps out. “Cum on Jack’s big ‘ole cock and soak me?”

"So—oh, fuck—close, baby." The way you feel right now, you might actually fall apart at the seams when you cum again, but it will be worth it. It will be worth just knowing first hand how gorgeous Jack looks when he follows you over the edge. "Don't stop. Don't fucking stop, Jack."

“Never.” Jack growls, smashing his teeth together and hissing at the way you claw and writhe under him. It’s like taming a feral cat in a pillowcase and he loves it. Your thighs are crushing his hips and all he can do is imagine them around his head. “Cum for me.”

A half dozen thrusts later, your cunt is clenching down on his cock and pulsing with a fierce orgasm that has your thighs tensing at his waist and your back bowing off the bed. Everything seems to be happening at the top of however it possibly could, and that includes the way you cry his name into the night before collapsing back into his sheets with your arms and legs still around him, willing him to follow you to bliss.

Jack moans your name, pants it again against your lips. His brow knitted in concentration as he tries to last. His body tightening and tensing as his pleasure builds to that almost painful precipice. His heart pounding, but not because of the physical exertion, but because of the almost loving look on your eyes. “Love you.” He moans, right as his lips crash against yours and he breathes it into your mouth again. “Love you.”

You freeze under him, but Jack is too caught in his bliss to tell. Like a bucket of water has been splashed over the bubble of this night and popped that shell keeping you separate from the world. Did he just...? There's no way. There's just absolutely no way at all. You must have imagined it. Wished for it so desperately that you hallucinated the words. Because otherwise you're not quite sure what you'll do — because Jack has never lied to you. But he's also never given you any reason to think your feelings might be requited.

Caught up in his orgasm, Jack rides wave after wave of complete bliss as he empties himself into you, metaphorically and physically. Giving you every bit of himself as he finally acknowledges the truth of why he has always kept you at arms length. His love for you terrifying him, but right now, he’s flying. Collapsing into your arms and panting out your name as he catches his breath.

There's nothing you can do with this shock except bury it, holding him and gently stroking his hair while he catches his breath with his head on your chest. You imagined it, you remind yourself silently, blinking back tears at how much you wish it was true.

The whiskey, the emotions and the exertion have Jack cuddly and sleepy as he comes down from his orgasm. “Fuck, baby girl.” He hums, kissing your neck as he slowly pulls out of you and shifts to your side to roll you over with him. “Wore me out.” He chuckles. “But gave a hell of a ride.”

He tucks you into his arms to be his little spoon, not letting you get away for even a second. Any other time? This would have been thrilling. "Get some sleep, baby." Returning the pet name seems innocent enough, and you reach back to run your fingers through his hair gently. "You earned it."

His eyes are closed when he shoots you a sleepy grin. “Talk when we wake up, sugar.” He promises, fingers stroking your skin softly.

That promise might be why you sleep so fitfully in the night to follow. Why you're so wound up that when your Statesman issued phone chirps from your purse on his floor around 6:30 in the morning, your eyes open immediately. Jack has turned over in the night, sleeping on his back now with one arm still around you but not so tightly that you can't extract yourself to answer the message. That phone is used only for missions and confidential communication, meaning you absolutely cannot ignore it. Incoming Message: Agent Rye report immediately for mission briefing. CODE BLACK. Code Black. You curse under your breath, careful not to wake Jack, and rub one hand down your face in dismay. That level of secrecy in a mission assignment means you can't even wake him up to say goodbye. You're supposed to speak to no one, just proceed immediately to the nearest Statesman branch for your mission briefing. With a sigh and another, more colorful curse, you shake your head and glance back at the bed where Jack is sleeping soundly. There's nothing to do but get dressed and Walk of Shame your ass into the office. You just wish you could wake him up to say goodbye.

It’s been years since Jack has slept so well. Deep and dreamless, none of the nightmares that often plague his rest. The soft scent of you surrounding him and soothing him like nothing he’s had in a long time. When his eyes open, he’s feeling like he’s had the best sleep of his life. Frowning when he doesn’t feel you next to him. Calling out your name softly in case you were in the bathroom. “Rye? Sugar?”

There's no trace of you anywhere. He may as well have come home alone last night, except for the scent of you in the air and the scratches on his back. It's almost an insult when he sees a fallen sequin on the rug where your dress had been tossed.

“Fuck.” Jack’s slipped out of plenty of beds, ducked out and kept walking. The walk of shame was never shameful when there was a little bit of pep to his step, but right now, he’s pissed. Pissed you didn’t have the fucking balls to wake him before you slipped off like a thief in the night. Snatching up his pants, he digs into the pocket for his phone, dialing your number and ready to have it out with you.

"Hi! Sorry I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as I'm able!" Your voicemail message is insultingly chipper when it picks up right away, almost taunting him. Like you aren't willing to talk, when nothing could be farther from the truth.

“Fuck!” Jack shouts, throwing the phone and scowling angrily. Pissed that you aren’t here, that you apparently don’t want to talk to him. “Fine, you regret it? Fuck you too.” He growls and stomps into the bathroom to shower. If you wanted nothing to do with him after he had let down his walls last night, he wants nothing to do with you either.

******

"What's got you all chewed up and spat out today?" Tequila raises an eyebrow at Jack when he comes huffing into the office, a little late and a lot pissed off. He had expected Jack to be in a stellar mood.

“Not a goddamn thing.” Even though his feathers are ruffled, Jack practically refuses to even think about you. To the point where he had thrown the sheets and the costly Tom Ford tuxedo away. “Whadda we got?” Desperate to concentrate on a mission, he jumps straight into business.

"Wingman prep." Tequila tells him, tapping the folder on his own desktop. "Somebody got tapped this morning and Champ wants us to comb some old mission files to prep for an extraction. Plan B sorta shit." And since all of the mission-ready agents on the Statesman payroll are top notch with years of experience under their belts, anyone potentially needing an extraction from a mission is a big fucking deal.

“Who got tapped?” Jack asks, grabbing a file and flipping it open with a frown on his face. “Scotch?”

"I thought you'd know already." Tequila's eyes snap back up to Jack in concern. "It was Rye."

Jack freezes and slowly lifts his eyes from the file to find Tequila frowning at him, confused by how he doesn’t know. “Why would I know that?” Jack asks after a moment. It explains why your phone was off, but you had still slipped out without saying a fucking word.

"Because...you went home with her last night?" Everybody knows that you and Jack left the party. Absolutely everyone. There was a whole extra celebration after you left. "Figured you woulda known by her getting up this morning and all."

There’s a split second where Jack wants to snap that you had left him to wake up alone, but he doesn’t. What comes out of his mouth instead, is to deny the whole thing. “Took her home.” Jack shrugs, lying easily as if he couldn’t care less. “She wanted to soak in a bath and read some book.”

The frown on Tequila's face deepens measurably, pure confusion marring his usually chipper face. "Bullshit," he huffs, leaning back in his desk chair. "I saw you kiss her. No way."

“Believe what you want.” Jack snaps flatly. “Where are we in planning the back up plans?” The hurt is soothed slightly by you being called away, but it doesn’t make it nonexistent. You hadn’t even left a goddamn message for him. He could have seen not waking him if you had left some sign that you didn’t regret the night even happened.

"Early stages." Knowing better than to poke the dragon when he's mad about something, Tequila defers to work like Jack clearly wants. "Tell me what you think, but I think me on the ground and you in the Silver Pony is the best bet." Whatever happened between you and Jack, the man is clearly hurt, and Tequila makes a note to go and talk to Ginger when he gets his next chance. If you had said anything to anyone, it would be to her.

“Whatever.” Jack practically rolls his eyes and shrugs. Usually he loves the opportunity to fly and show off in the Silver Pony, but he’s so worked up over you that he doesn’t even bat an eyelash. “Guess that’s the plan. If needed.”

“If needed.” All Tequila does is nod, but damn he really needs to talk to Ginger.

******

Jack holes up in his office, barely answering the phone and not leaving it all day, not even for lunch. Catching up on paperwork that is normally never done as he works through not being at home. Not remembering how you tasted and sounded last night. He’s even refused to pull up your camera footage, not wanting to see what you are doing. He’s miserable and is determined to stay that way.

“Thought I’d find you in here.” Champ’s gruff voice cuts through the silence long after everyone else has gone home for the night. He knew exactly where Jack would be. Especially after Tequila said the senior agent was out of sorts. “Come up to my office, Jack. We’re gonna have a drink.” It’s not a suggestion or a request. This is a direct order from this commander, and Champ turns around and heads back down the hall knowing Jack will follow.

Jack sighs and sets his pen down, ripping the reading glasses off his face and tossing them down on the folder. He had stayed cooped up in his office so he didn’t take his bad mood out on anyone so he doesn’t see why he needs to be called out onto the carpet. Still, he pushes back from his desk and follows the older man to the conference room Champ preferred over his official office. The bar cart in here was better stocked.

“Pick your poison.” Champ tells him, motioning for Jack to sit down at the conference table as he strolls over to the cart to grab a bottle and two glasses.

“Whatever your havin’.” Jack wonders what this is about, but he doesn’t ask. Just waits patiently for his boss to get to the reason in his own sweet time.

Champ grunts slightly, grabbing a bottle of ‘74 Reserve, and brings it to the table. He pours two fingers in each glass and slides one over to set in front of Jack before sitting down beside him and taking a sip from his own glass. “You’ve been hidin’ today,” he assesses after a moment of silence. “But I hear you damn near took Tequila’s head off this morning when you got in.”

“Can’t have a bad day?” Jack asks, picking up the whiskey and staring at it before taking a sip. “Woke up wrong, that’s all. I’ll apologize to the crybaby later.”

“He’s not a damn crybaby,” Champ huffs, covering his own amusement with a scowl. “I walked by your damn office, fool. And when he did come talk to me about it, it was because he was worried about you.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jack scowls and shakes his head. “I had a bad morning. I’m fine. Not gonna go off and try to kill all the drug users again.”

“Not saying you would.” Holding up his hands in a show of innocence, Champ leans back all the way and stares down his nose at Jack for a second longer before he shakes his head and shrugs. “But between you and me just these walls? Just thought you might wanna know that Rye got sent off Code Black, is all.” He isn’t supposed to say. Black is black. It’s too priority and top security. But you’d been so torn up this morning and Jack’s been so out of sorts in his own way that Champ has rightfully assumed that something fairly big must’ve happened after you left the party.

His jaw nearly drops. Champ never gives information away like that. He frowns, looking back down at his glass again and feeling relieved. If you had gotten a Code Black, you couldn’t wake him up. It would have been against protocol. He swallows and finally nods. “Good to know.”

“Just don’t want you stewing over it.” The older man says, watching carefully as he sips from his glass again. “You wanna be upset with anyone, it’s me. Not her.”

“Right.” Jack drains the rest of the whiskey and the crystal hits the table slightly harder than normal. “Anything else?”

“Nah. That’s it.” There’s nothing more that Champ can really say, and now Jack needs to process. That’s just how these things work. “See ya in the morning, Daniels.”

Jack stands. “‘Night, Champ.” He walks out of the room and back down the hall towards his office, looking down at his feet as he goes.

******

It’s two weeks before Tequila and Jack are given a stand-down order and told their rescue mission won’t be necessary. Mission success, they’re told with authority, even though it took longer than expected. They don’t get more than that, though, and Jack is walking past Ginger’s lab on his way out of the office late that night when he hears your voice again for the first time in weeks. It’s tired, and quiet, but unmistakable. “Can we just get this over with, Ging?” You ask your friend quietly, knowing that decontamination and a full physical are extremely necessary considering where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing. But you want to get the hell out of here and finally go talk to Jack.

He would never admit it, but he’s been living at Statesman. Barely going home to change and often refreshing the outfits that he keeps in his office for unexpected late nights. On call the entire time in case you needed him. Now you are here and Jack feels like running away. So much self doubt had built up over two weeks, he’s driven himself crazy over every little thing. Obsessing over the details of New Years.

“Once you have a clean bill of health, you go storm the ranch or whatever it is you’re going to do.” Ginger teases, full of warmth. “But I would try his office first.”

Jack frowns slightly and wonders what the hell Ginger is talking about, storming the ranch. He almost pushes the door open, but he doesn’t. Just wants to see what you will say if you know that he’s not listening.

“It’s been two weeks, Ging.” The pops and hums and beeps of her equipment punctuate your voice from inside the lab. “Every single second I haven’t been thinking about this mission I’ve been reliving that night. And I could kill Champ for sending me away Code fucking Black before I could even tell Jack how I feel about him.”

“I know it was bad timing.” He hears Ginger sigh. “But hopefully it gave you some time to think about what you’re going to say?”

Jack’s stomach twists and he feels nauseous. Wondering if you’ve decided that it was a mistake. He swallows harshly and whirls around, not wanting to hear how you plan on letting him down or friend zoning him.

“I’m going to tell him the truth,” he misses hearing you say. “That I’ve been in love with him for six years, and that I’m done being a coward about it.” This mission so easily could have killed you every single day that it became something of an eye opener. Getting back to Jack had become the most dominant and driving force in your mind at times.

Walking down to his office has Jack twisted in knots. He’s never been a coward before but he damn sure feels like running. Playing back that night in his head over and over had made him realize what he had said. More importantly, what you hadn’t said back. Walking over to his bar cart, he pours himself a heavy double and bolts it down. He’ll get wasted after you crush his hopes but that was needed so he doesn’t beg like a pathetic wretch. He needs to keep his pride somehow.

It’s twenty more minutes before he hears footsteps in the hall and hears your tentative voice calling his name. “Jack?” There’s nerves in it, anxiety hovering around you despite your triumphant mission. But you appear in his doorway looking worried and chewing your lip. “Hey…you’re still here.”

“Work’s never done.” Jack huffs, plastering on a friendly but not too friendly expression. “Haven’t seen you around in a few weeks. Mission go alright?” It’s painful to see you in that doorway, looking tired and beautiful. Reminding him of how you looked before he had fallen asleep and lost you.

“I’m home and in one piece.” It’s what you always say, but at least it’s true. He doesn’t exactly look happy to see you, though, and that makes you falter a little. Not enough to shake your resolve, but your optimism that he’ll respond with joy cracks right away. “Do you…can we talk a little?”

“Sure.” He takes off his reading glasses and stands. Moving over to the alcohol again. “Want a drink?” He asks, not looking over his shoulder at you. He sees the worry on your face and knows you are concerned about your working relationship. What he will do will be accept your wants, wish you well and promise that he will not let what happened affect your professional relationship. Then he will demand a transfer to the New York office, permanently. You nod and he pours out two drinks. “What’s on your mind, Rye?”

“Well…you are.” It seems like such an obvious answer that it almost feels silly saying it, but he won’t even look you in the eye so staring at the beginning seems like a good idea.

“Oh?” Turning around is hard, but he manages to look curious instead of sick to his stomach. “Now why would I be on your mind, sugar?” The endearment slips out and he nearly bites his tongue as he carries them over to the small sofa area.

The message is loud and clear: it really didn’t mean anything to him. Regardless, though, you have to power through. If he really didn’t mean what he said and has no interest in being with you, you’ll request a permanent transfer. Chicago, Dallas, Los Angeles — anywhere but here or New York. Swallowing a sigh, you accept the glass from him but just hold it in your hands while you gather your thoughts. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk before I had to leave,” you start, trying not to let the warmth and proximity of him get under your skin so easily. But you can’t really help it. “I did the best I could for a message to let you know what had happened, but it wasn’t much. And I’m sorry for that, too.”

His facade cracks, the scowl as quick to vanish as it appears and he scoffs. “Message received, Rye. A lone sequin on the floor. Practically like it was a dream, except for that.” He tosses back the whiskey. “Can you just get to the part where you tell me it was a mistake, you don’t want to ruin our friendship or work relationship? Or whatever bullshit excuse you’ve settled on to tell me you regret it?” His eyes are dark and pained when they finally land on you, barely resisting the urge to flee.

“On the floor?” Your brow furrowed instantly, a frown painting itself on your lips, and you set the glass in your hands aside to shift closer to him on the little couch. “Jack, I left a sequin on your nightstand.” The choice was even more horrible than you had worried it would be, apparently, because he looks so hurt he could actually cry. A fact which makes you instantly want to cry as well. “A black sequin was the best I could do for a signal. It—it must have…blown off. Stupid fucking flapper dress with all that fringe. It must have gone flying when I left the room.” There was no other breeze, no window open or fan blowing. Only you could have sabotaged yourself like that.

He doesn’t believe you and shakes his head. “Why would you leave a black-“ he trails off when it hits him. Black sequin - Code Black. Trying to tell him that you had wanted to leave a message but couldn’t. Champ had broken protocol by telling him about the Code Black and apparently you had tried to signal the same thing. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You shake your head in resignation, blowing out a shuddering breath. “I didn’t want to leave. Especially not after…” Another shaky breath leaves the rest of you shaking in turn, and you shove your hands under your legs on the couch. This is the most terrifying thing you’ve ever asked a person in your entire life. “Did you…mean it? What you said?”

Jack bites his lip, wanting to ask you what you’re talking about but he can’t do that. You look distraught that he had thought you had just disappeared. “Yeah.” Jack admits quietly. “Look, I know that it’s not something you were expectin’ ta hear, and you don’t feel the same.” He rolls on with the emotions that he needs to get out. “I won’t be mad, or take it out on you. But that night….fuck.” He blows out a breath. “I got to touch you. Just like I fuckin’ dreamed of. And I couldn’t just let you think it was a heat of the moment thing for me.”

“Why do you think I don’t feel the same?” With your heart beating wildly and your shakiness only increasing, there’s a sort of explosive quality in your mind and body that you can’t quite figure out how to control. Like all you want to do is launch yourself at him for a kiss but you know you need to talk first. To get it all out in the open. To be honest with each other. “I—I honestly had no idea you thought of me as anything but a friend. I was…well…shocked is a bit of an understatement.”

Jack snorts. “I know my reputation. Hell, I crafted it. But I couldn’t flirt with you. It’s too- shit- you had me from the first time we met. I was fucking hooked and it wouldn’t have been right. You were a junior agent and -“ he shakes his head. “I was running from the kind of commitment you were made for.”

“Your reputation was built by a man who had loved his wife so deeply that he couldn’t bear the thought of loving and losing again,” you remind him quietly. You sure you hadn’t known that right away, but when you had learned about his wife and son, you understood implicitly. “But it…it never stopped me from falling in love with you. Even when I thought I’d never be more to you than an acquaintance. I considered myself damn lucky to eventually become your friend. I just thought…I thought the fact that you never, ever flirted with me…meant that it was unrequited. So I made myself okay with it. Until two weeks ago.”

“I respect you, Rye.” Jack murmurs quietly. “I didn’t want to make it seem like you were everyone else, because you weren’t.” It’s backwards and twisted, but no one ever said that he had defeated all his demons. “When I broke- I gave you everything.”

“More than you know.” A soft huff of a laugh escapes you and you shake your head again, willing your nerves to calm down even a little. “Just…please understand, Jack. That I’ve been in love with you since the second I met you. And the only reason I didn’t say it back the night we slept together is because I was so shocked to hear it from you in the first place. I thought I’d hallucinated what I wanted to hear, and then before I knew it we were asleep…and then I woke up to a Code Black.”

“I was upset.” Jack admits quietly. “Really upset.” He flushes slightly. “May have been thinkin’ some not-so-polite things until Tequila told me it was you who was slated for the mission.” He won’t tell you that Champ had broken the rules. “Convinced myself that you had run off to go save the world so you wouldn’t have to tell me that you’d had too much alcohol and that’s why you let me take you home.”

“Not at all.” Taking a chance, you reach for his hand and practically sigh in relief when he slots his fingers through yours. “I pretty much thought I’d died and gone to heaven, if I’m honest. I just kept thinking…if this only happens once, I never want to forget a single thing.” You squeeze his hand gently, wishing you could have said all this two weeks ago. “I’m sorry my message didn’t work. That’s…you have every right to think nasty things about me. I’m so sorry.”

“No I don’t.” Jack protests. “Not if you meant to be here. Not if you wanted to be here the next morning. Then it’s just a bad misunderstanding and I’m sorry.”

“Then I guess we’re both sorry.” He’ll never know that you cried all the way to the office that morning at having to leave him, you decide right now. It would only make him feel even more guilty and he doesn’t deserve that. “But I’m not sorry about what happened between us.”

“You aren’t?” He tightens his grip on your hand, relaxing slowly as you talk and he understands that this was one giant cluster fuck. He’s used to those, he can handle those. “That’s good, sugar. Because New Years was probably the best night of my life.”

“God, I hope you mean that.” Your shakiness is for more than one reason, although you needed to have this conversation first. Whatever the two of you decide will happen next is a decision made by both of you, not just you alone. “Because…Ginger couldn’t clear me…after my physical. I can’t go back on the list.”

Jack frowns, brows pulling together. “Why can’t Ginger clear you? What’s wrong?” There’s a number of things that can be fixed by Statesman tech and he’s worried that it’s something bad.

Your stomach churns with worry, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. The unmistakable advances of Statesman tech can do things that most doctors absolutely cannot, thanks to Ginger Ale, and you’re not sure whether to thank her or curse her. “It’s not that something’s wrong, technically,” you admit, giving another worried squeeze to his hand. “But we probably ought to have used that condom…”

Jack’s eyes widen and they drop to your stomach, discerning the meaning of your comment. You aren’t a liar and Jack would believe you if you said you didn’t sleep with someone else, but he’s confused. “Sugar- how?” He chokes out. “I got snipped when I joined Statesman.”

“When was the last time you had your sperm count checked?” You had made Ginger do the test three times, but the result was always the same. Your birth control failed and Jack’s second kid is already growing, if very slowly. “The chances of a vasectomy failing are less than one percent, but it can still happen.”

Jack frowns and then rolls his eyes and groans. “The chamber.” He remembers. “When I got shot and then- uh, put back together.” He shakes his head. “Ging said I might need to get it checked but I dadgum forgot.” He bites his lip and tries not to freak out over the fact that you are pregnant after your one and only time together. “What do you want, sugar?” He asks.

“Not more than you’re willing to give freely.” The answer is that you want all of him. Every single bit. Love and a life and a family. But you know that even if Jack does love you, he’s never loved anyone the way he loved his wife. And losing Maria nearly destroyed him, so he may not be willing to take that chance again. “But I…unless you really object…I’m keeping the baby. Even if you don’t want a commitment or anything. I just…you’re right about me. I want a family and if this is my only chance I don’t want to give that up. Especially not if I get even the littlest piece of you with it.”

“You think I would-“ he shakes his head. “No, I would never force you, one way or the other.” He frowns. “I was asking if you wanted to have a baby. And if you think I’m gonna sit back and let you raise it by yourself, you must have hit your dadgum head.”

“I want this baby.” It had only taken about ten seconds after learning it existed to determine that, even if you’re still grappling with the reality of it. “And I want you.” You inch closer to him on the couch. “However you want to be together. That part is up to you.”

“It’s been a long damn time since I’ve thought about being a daddy, sugar.” There’s a slight smirk on his face but he doesn’t make the obvious crude joke. “But I’m pretty traditional when you break it down. I’m not gonna want to be apart from you and our baby.”

He might not have made the joke but you still laugh, having made the sugar daddy connection in your mind easily enough. “I know it’s a lot, Jack. And we didn’t plan it. But…” All you can do is shrug your shoulders slightly, looking up at him with such obvious hope and even more obvious water behind your eyes. “But, I love you.”

“I meant it, baby girl.” He promises you, reaching out to caress your cheek and then cup it. “I love you. I love you so much, sugar.” Licking his lips, his eyes drop down to yours. “Can I kiss you?”

"I wish you would." practically beaming at him, you lean in and let the moment wash over you. Jack's lips against yours. His hands on your skin. His baby - your baby - is already starting to grow.

Jack pulls you close, pressing his lips against yours and groaning softly. “Sugar, you’re gonna have my baby.” He whispers against your lips in awe. “Just the one time, one time between your thighs and you are carrying my baby.”

“One time is all it takes.” You can’t help the broad way you smile, giggling softly against his lips as you steal another kiss.

“I don’t regret it.” He promises. “I don’t regret you.” He smiles as he kisses you again. “We really did shake things up for New Years, didn’t we?”

“Just a little bit.” Another laugh escapes you, and you lean into his side only to be rewarded with Jack’s arms encircling you and holding you close. “I don’t regret any of it. Except maybe not making my message a whole lot clearer.”

“We’ll get better at communicatin’.” Jack promises with a smile. “We’re partners now.”

“Do you want to go get dinner, maybe?” The end of a mission can be crazy even when it’s successful, and you just want to try to relax tonight. Especially with everything changing in your personal life too, apparently. “My treat?”

Jack scoffs and shakes his head. “You ain’t paying, sugar.” He huffs. “Not while you’re with me. If you want dinner, we can go out, or I can take you home and throw some steaks on the grill.”

“I kind of want to celebrate,” you admit, feeling silly about it even though it’s the truth. “If that’s okay?”

“Then we’ll go out and celebrate.” Jack promises before he frowns at something you had said. “Why would you have thought I would never be interested in you?”

“Because…” It feels sillier than the celebration thing now that you know the truth. Silly and even a little pointless, but he asked so you’ll tell him. “Because you flirted with every woman in the world besides me. Which Ginger said is how she knew you were interested in me. But I didn’t believe her.”

“You know you’re wrong, don’t cha?” Jack asks you. “When you said that you get sent on assignments to be invisible? You’re sent on the assignments you are given because you get the job done. Champ knows that if he gives you a task, it will be done.”

“Whatever the reason is, he’ll have to do without me for about a year.” It isn’t worth having a debate over your lack of self esteem with him right now, and you especially don’t want to ruin the mood by crying anything other than happy tears, so you just redirect the conversation altogether. “This baby is my top priority.”

“Our top priority.” He corrects you. He’s nervous, terrified really, but there’s no one he’d rather have a happy accident with than you. “Our New Year’s baby.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04

[thingsnia]

boss benefits — simon riley "ghost" 💀🏴‍☠️

─── ☆ attention: english is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes, just clearing the web that I let accumulate; I missed writing, diving into something to get away from life, asks are open, and I write to all the men of cod (characters by Pedro Pascal & house of the dragon <3)

─── ☆ summary: What would you do to stand out? To take on a mission you always wanted to finally have new opportunities? Would you be willing to give everything? were you willing to sleep with your Lieutenant?

─── ☆ warings📣: +18, MDNI | Allusions to an unhappy marriage, Simon is a scoundrel here, a bit dark (since you have sex to get a job) , possessiveness, size kink, creampie, unprotected sex, sexual desire, sexual tension, Simon is jealous of his boyfriend (he doesn't admit it, but competes), infidelity, oral sex (m/f), mention of procreation, infidelity, abuse of power, hierarchical relationship, position advantage, extramarital relationship, both have relationships, mentions of lust, prosmic sex, high sexual attraction, big dick (I know, I know, Simon is a big boy), Simon makes fun of the reader's boyfriend a lot, Simon lives in a loveless relationship.

"Lieutenant?" You asked as you pushed open the door to his office, perhaps it was to ask for a new report or to explain the briefing for your newest mission.

But when you opened the door, you noticed Ghost's body leaning against the table, he was in uniform, the mask covering only his lips, his honey eyes looking at you, you couldn't help but smile softly while showing his teeth.

You can't help but see the rectangular photograph, the gold-colored frame on his desk, displaying the happy photo of him next to his wife, Lisa, Lana or Lenny, you don't even remember her name. "Do you really want that mission?" His bitter tone of voice, so drawn out and thick that it almost made you think you were negotiating with the devil himself.

The mission that you begged so much to be in your hands, you wanted, was a mission in an area that always interested you, come on, you even studied to perform such a role, but Simon said he would give you an answer, and you were grateful for himself for letting go of his laziness and coming to his office at night.

"Of course I do, Lieutenant." The way you seemed convinced you believed it would be the best for you, he couldn't help but laugh beneath the mask, a little thing like you saying you could take it all. You had fire in your eyes, and Simon wanted to taste that fire.

"Whatever you're willing to do, I say." He cleared his throat while crossing his arms over his chest, raising his body even higher. "Many other soldiers asked me for it, it's an important mission, to show your values ​​and skills. Why do you think you deserve this mission?"

"I'm the most qualified, I'm tired of kissing babies or hugging people." The last mission, after saving a pile of hostages, you ended up becoming more popular in talking in front of the cameras — you were a kind, sweet woman and the photos of you holding a baby in your arms almost made everyone call you an 'angel' of the task force. You even got a five-day vacation to spend with your boyfriend, thanks to everything you saw, to all the scary things you saw while saving them. "That's not for me, Lieutenant."

"You still haven't answered me, little thing." The harsh tone, the way he leaned in, touching your chin with the same hand that had the gold ring on it, he was flirting with you, sending all codes of professional ethics to hell, the way he leaned in, without Don't even care about the photo on the table, the photo is his wedding. "What are you willing to give me... for this job to be yours alone."

You should run, escape, warn the HR people about his strange attitudes - no strange, he was harassing you, insinuating that you should give him something to get a job, this was against all regulations, using his own power to obtain sexual favors. But you knew, the army would never send him away, would never dismiss him, he was one of the most competent agents on the military installation.

Reporting him would ruin your career, it would throw all your efforts in the trash if you told anyone about it. Closing your own eyes while looking at him, why was he insinuating this? His wife was young, pretty, and you had a boyfriend - damn, why are you creating reasons not to have sex with him? "Simon, your wife doesn't deserve this, my boyfriend, Devon, doesn't deserve this."

"Don't be silly, little girl." The little flick he gave you on the nose, laughing as he noticed you dodge, trying to get away from him, were you creating reasons? Did you want it so much that you needed to create excuses to stay away? - "Look, don't see this as cheating, sex or whatever is in your head. See it as a business transition."

He laughed, you could almost see the wrinkles forming under his eyes, you could almost feel the way he was offering to have an affair with you. "We're not going to kiss, honey, I don't want you to kiss me, love me or leave your pathetic little boyfriend."

The silence that fell, your throat was dry, you seemed disappointed to know that there wouldn't be kisses? - the entire environment was silent, I could hear your mind pounding, I could hear the doubts, the uncertainty, and even the desire to have sex with your superior. Everything was silent for a few minutes, it seemed like an eternity, all the doubts, the uncertainties, the doubts, your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him.

"you'll never tell anyone this, right?" you should be ashamed to accept it, you should walk away — leave, not accept this damn job and simply deny it, be faithful to your boyfriend, don't cheat on another woman, don't let him cheat on his marriage with you, in a damn case.

The way he took off his mask, showing off his thin lips, his strong facial expressions, his Greek nose as he couldn't help but laugh as he walked towards the door. He looked at your body, noticing that you were probably close to going to bed when they told you that he wanted to talk to you, his attentive eyes analyzing you, your curves, the entire contour of your body. "It will be a shame to never tell anyone that I was with a woman just like you, sweet." The pet name almost made you tremble, he spoke as if he had honey between his teeth. "But I agree, we can't let others know. It would be bad for my marriage and your little boyfriend- he would finally have to learn how to fuck a real woman."

At first it was strange approaching him, your lips tilting slightly, you didn't know where to touch, you didn't know how he liked kisses or how he liked to be touched, he approached, forgetting that it was you who wouldn't kiss you, but he lied, and you were stupid to believe him. Your eyes connected to each other, slow and slow steps towards each other, as if you were reading the deepest secrets of each other's souls — reading the darkest secrets that could exist, almost creating your own rhythm, a speed of yours. two. Simon couldn't help but bite his lip, he would be lying if he said he never desired your lips.

At first the kiss was so calm, sensitive, your lips pressing against each other, in an absurd harmony they were having, he held your face while he deepened the kiss, prolonging it, asking for passage with his lips, and when you moaned into his mouth of him, pulling his hair, everything seemed to go dark, to darken, your breathing in tune, your chest rising and falling, you needed to breathe, you needed air, oxygen, you needed so many things, Simon's hoarse voice, the way he just He smiled when he noticed how confused, airy and so confused you were.

"I have one condition" you pulled away from his lips, as you tried your best to hold on to something, fuck, you always imagined the sweet com could be his lips - you always knew he was as hot as the devil himself.

He couldn't help but laugh, finding it so curious how you didn't push him away during the kiss, quite the opposite, he saw your eyes on his lips, he saw desire in you, lust, tension, so many things that were more than enough. just an arrangement, an agreement. "What's your condition, pretty."

"I want you to use a condom." It was your lifeline, of course you imagined the texture of Simon's fresh semen filling your pussy, you knew it was wrong, wishing another man would cum in you while forcing your own boyfriend to use a condom, it was so comical, the man who knew your parents couldn't cum, but Simon had the approval to do so?

"We have a little problem. I don't have a condom." He wasn't lying, tilting his gaze at you as he walked away, he didn't have condoms, since he always made his own wife take care of birth control a lot, he didn't want accidents, he didn't want an unwanted child, but with you, he didn't even At least he cared about his own regulations of only having sex when he was aware of birth control.

"I have a condom in my boyfriend's room, I can get it."

“don’t be stupid princess, do you think it fits me?” You wanted to hit him for being arrogant, he was just being self-centered by telling you that he had a huge dick, but before you could even argue that he was lying or making excuses, he took your hands in his, feeling the soft and smooth texture, so Sweet as an addictive drug, he fell into your trap.

He let you feel him, feeling the volume, but he made a point of undoing his belt, lowering the waistband of his pants, making you see his dick, the red bridge leaking, the thick outline, covered in bluish veins, you couldn't let it go and Closing his eyes, biting his lips, realizing how huge he is, Simon couldn't help but laugh when he noticed how surprised his eyes were, when he noticed that he had a huge cock. Simon knew he had a huge dick, fuck, he knew he should be proud to have all that stuff in his pants. "What's wrong, doesn't your boyfriend have a huge dick, kitten?"

You hated how cocky he seemed, how full of ego he seemed, surely getting so many compliments for having a huge dick that he probably got a big ego. "shut up. I want you to take it off before you cum."

"Yes ma'am."

And there you were again, crushing your lips against his, feeling the way your body shivered, he knew it was wrong - but he couldn't lie and say he was sorry about cheating on his wife, he didn't care, he didn't even care. The way he was devouring your neck, crushing his lips against your skin, giving bites, hickeys and even licks, loving the way it gave you goosebumps, how you squirmed in his arms. "You seem so needy, no man has ever touched you."

He was groping your body, crushing your breasts against his own hands, he could feel how round they were, even under a pile of clothes. Pulling at clothes, removing buttons and buttons, watching your skin be revealed, flesh soft and supple, he knew he shouldn't leave marks, that he shouldn't have the boldness, but he did, he marked you, bit your skin, kissed.

Simon couldn't help but moan when he felt your hands wrapped around his cock - starting to masturbate him, moving his fists around him, feeling his cock throbbing, the veins bulging, how hot it was, how luscious, fuck, he'd never had a man with such a strong reaction to simply touching. You stayed for a few minutes, teasing each other, Simon exploring your skin, discovering all the pieces, all the contours, trying to remember in his own memory what you were like, he would record this moment, because he didn't know when it would happen again.

And that would be his best secret, the image that would pass through his mind every moment he had, remembering how your body reacts to being touched, to being kissed, to being loved, he knew it was wrong to give you the role of a lover, an affair, how he hated not being able to love you with open doors, to reduce you to just that, an affair of a married man. When he saw you kneel, see you on your knees for him, he could almost cum, he could almost feel the air getting thin, you almost stopped breathing.

"how do you.. like being sucked?" He couldn't help but find it so captivating, did you want to please him? You wanted to know how he wanted you, you wanted to engrave yourself in his mind like gum.

"Just do what you do with your boyfriend, hmm?" That was a lie, he wanted it to be even better, for you to suck him with more love than you sucked your boyfriend, he wanted you to be even better with him but it was with that loser.

"If you talk about him, I'll get dressed and leave." You didn't want to remember that you were a damn traitor, that you were about to suck a man who wasn't your boyfriend, and to make matters worse, a man who was wearing a ring. When you opened your mouth, starting to suck the base of his cock — sliding your tongue along the slit, while holding his base so tightly, you loved how needy Simon seemed to feel your mouth against him.

When you started to suck him, sliding your mouth around his entire contour - the warm, wet mouth surrounding him, as you began to slide in and out, just wrapping the glans around your mouth, you couldn't help but smile when he wrapped it around you. his hand in your hair, fuck, you could feel his wedding ring against your head.

Simon couldn't help but smile when he saw you smiling, seeing the outline of your lips against his, seeing your eyes so big as you tried to relax your throat to take him, you've never taken a huge cock, while you felt the weight of his cock against your tongue. He waited for you to be ready, as he started to move his hips, hitting the back of your throat, he could see you fighting the urge to choke, there was saliva running down your chest, you were willing to take him whole, to please him , you knew that anyone could notice that you and Simon were missing.

You move your head back and forth, breathing through your nose as you move your tongue around him, trying your best to pleasure him, you didn't care about the pain in your throat, you would probably have to drink tea the next morning, and when you heard Simon's moans, you can't help but continue, now hungrier, taking him so deep in your throat, starting to choke around him, the disheveled sounds, Simon's moans and with him he seemed so excited to see you giving a blowjob sloppy, not caring about his appearance, he looked like a slut who would get paid a lot of money, but no, you were doing it willingly, trying to please him, trying to be good to him, sucking a married man.

Fuck, Simon imagined all the perverted things he could do, he could take a picture of himself like this, but he didn't want to be such a bad man. He was close to cumming, close to emptying down your throat and even though he wanted to see you swallow him — or cumming on your face, he couldn't wait, he wanted to hear you moan for him.

He used all the strength he had, placing you on the desk, laughing when he saw the photograph fall to the floor, his wedding photo shattered, and he didn't even care, stepping on the broken frame, crushing the happy image of his wedding, separating at your legs, taking off your panties, he almost salivated at the sight of your wet pussy, at the sight of how wet you were for him, patting your clit and just laughing when you moaned.

He wanted to make fun of you, laugh a little, but he just wanted to feel your pussy around him, smell your sweet and soft scent, he leaned over, not caring about his spine curved in a bad position, as he started rubbing your clit. with a circle of his tongue — like a kitten testing the water, and when it tastes sweet, damn, he can't help but growl, opening your legs even wider, using his own weight and arms to open you up. "Fuck, I can live under your legs. That wet pussy."

He purred as he went back to sucking you, playing with your clit, drinking in all your excitement, trying his best to make you wet, patting you to see how wet you were, spreading your legs, separating your legs, putting you on top of the shoulders. Damn, all those moans you let out as he attacked your pussy, moaning as if you had never received quality oral sex, if he was your boyfriend he would never leave your legs, he would leave with you hanging on his shoulders, lifting the head just to speak politely to people.

Noticing his wet mouth, feeling your scent stuck right under his nose, as you arched over the table, feet shaking, crushing your hands against his hair, you were close to pulling his hair, messing up his hairstyle, those straw hair stuck between your fists, you were close to cumming, close to messing up everything around you, moaning loudly, squirming.

As you arched your back, rising and leaning, you wanted to close your legs, but Simon couldn't help but fight you, using his arms as a kind of screwdriver to let you open. Tapping hard on your clit while rubbing two fingers against your entrance, making you take his fingers, feeling your cum soak his fingers, feeling how you were crushing his fingers. "Fuck, Simon!"

When he lifted himself up, you couldn't help but see his forehead covered in sweat, his lips stained with your juices, he couldn't help but smile at how confused you were, how high you were from your orgasm, as he pulled you in for more. close, he needed to stick it inside you before he came, the taste of your pussy, the taste against his tongue. Fuck, he was dripping like a beast, his dick so hard and throbbing he might have blue balls if he didn't come, when you pulled him closer, wrapping your legs around his hips, you were a demon, and he should have known from that.

"don't do that to a man baby.. it makes any man greedy." Seeing your eyes, how you were kissing him, how he was crushing his body against you. He felt his cock rubbing against your wet folds, and when you pushed in, he had to bite his lips, his jaw clenched, you were so tight, so wet, so welcoming that it took everything he had not to cum on the first thrust. . "You're a glove inside, as tight as a fucking virgin."

He was rambling, talking out loud, he never felt like this, he never needed to pull his dick out to relieve it, fuck, he didn't want to cum on the first thrust, he didn't want to disappoint you, he didn't know when he would have the chance again and I wanted to enjoy every second. You couldn't help but laugh, noticing how fucked he was, how he had hurt his own lips sinking his teeth in to hold himself back, he kept fucking himself, just pushing his head in and out, moaning as he felt the obscene sounds, the smell of sex in the entire office.

When he crushed his hands around your hips, using one of his arms to keep you from struggling before he fucked you into oblivion, before he fucked you like a beast. Feeling your hands against the back of his neck as you began to move, laughing as he moved in and out of you, seeing you roll your eyes and scratch at his shoulders, scratch at his back, he can feel you shaking against him, You can feel how deep you were, your pussy was wrapping around him so tightly.

You knew you shouldn't be moaning in another man's arms, you shouldn't be letting a man without a condom enter you, fuck, you could feel the cold, golden ring against your skin, throw your head back, feeling the sounds of sex, the creaking table, the obscene sounds your pussy was making as it clenched around him. Feeling him fuck him balls deep inside you, he knew there would be so many bruises, marks that were too difficult to explain to the people who were waiting for you at home, but damn, he didn't care.

The violent rhythm that your bodies intertwined, you were both sinning, you were both getting sick, he loved feeling the texture of your skin, how your pussy clenched around him, and when he buried himself deep inside, the way your eyes rolled back, the air that was trapped in his chest and his head thrown back, his nail scratched him as if his skin was a whiteboard ready to be painted, exposed and displayed as a beautiful work of art.

The heavy breathing, the sounds, the harsh and hot noises, Simon was growling, feeling your pussy to squeeze a huge amount of you, the smell of sex, all the items on the table hitting the floor, Simon didn't care about the mess, with all the papers, the cock buried, in and out the wet and lasives sounds, while the rhythm was so slow, he wanted to hear you moan — to hear you beg for his cock, beg for the mark, for the contour of his cock against your pussy . "Fuck, keep moaning for me, I want to remember how you can be so loving."

He noticed your bright eyes, the way you bit your own lip just to make him angry, and fuck, he started moving so slow, so slow, thrusting all the way in at a deadly pace, letting your clit rub against his His abdomen, just looking down Simon thought he was going to fill you up, the simple sight of almost burying his balls inside you drives him crazy, makes him so animalistic, lost in desire, bathing in lust.

His hips rock almost naturally, the sight of your lubrication gushing against his cock, the obscene sound of your pussy and how your moans sound so loud and needy, it was almost like another impulse to slide his fingers up to your clit, he wanted you Seeing you cum for him, seeing how your eyes rolled back, how your body would tremble against his, god, he was so wild.

Simon feels his charms completely over you, the way your belly twitched, he can feel the way you hugged him even tighter with your legs, almost forbidding him to leave, creating a limitation that made him almost merge. Your body rose from the table, your spine arching, your hair spread across the table, it was like a damn overdose, better than the adrenaline of being on the field. Your eyes were so dilated, your moans were confused, altered, the orgasm made you so needy, the way you looked at Simon, almost like a succubus ready to drain every drop of semen he had.

He knows he should have used the strength of his own body to pull away, to cum on his belly and even his thighs — the guilt was already gone, he didn't even remember his wife's name, Lisa, Lenny or anything, his mind was just I could think about you, your body, your pussy that seemed made for his dick, even the shock against your cervix. "I need you, Simon-"

His eyes were heavy, his hands were squeezing your flesh so tightly, as if he was stopping you from slipping between his fingers, he was so close to filling you, the way his name rolled across your tongue, as if it were a prayer, a song that you were the only singer who gave meaning to the musician. "Fuck, I'm going to fill you up..."

The devilish smile that played on those lips, now you know how Lucifer fell as he tried to dominate and rule heaven, the distorted pleasure before your eyes, the danger, the chance to father his child - the marks of the alliance against your skin If it's so wrong why did it feel so good in your mind?

Instead of pushing him away, yelling at him, telling him he's gone crazy, it was as if he had opened a box with all his darkest desires, fathering a married man's child, destroying a home, you should be ashamed, but all he felt was pleasure, desire, knowing that he was so immersed in this that he was willing to lose everything. Giving up everything he had for years, simply to fill you up.

The way Simon's hips seemed ready to give way, he was like a machine, rough like metal hitting you over and over again, and you were made of porcelain, fragile and struggling not to break, he was hitting you over and over again against your uterus, he was insatiable, it would only stop when it spilled, when all the semen was dripping from your pussy, he didn't even care how red, swollen and baked it would be. He could only think about the feeling, fucking you again, using his own cum as lubricant, imagining how your pussy would still accept him even after he had cum.

Knowing that you weren't letting your loser boyfriend do that, but you were letting him, a man who had his wife's photo on the table, the frame that was now broken — he didn't even know where it had fallen, if he was stepping on it or anything. thing, you pussy was his only focus, your body against his. The simple thought made him come, the firm, thick jets being spurted inside you, looking at you is seeing your eyes closed, your body trembling, he filled your pussy, and instead of pushing him away, you moaned, leaving another man marks you, another man kisses you, another man tastes and delights in your body.

Simon didn't want to leave, even though he heard the sound in the hallway, knowing that at any moment someone could open the door, but he didn't care about the danger, the suspension they would both receive, or the gossip spreading through the hallways. He just smiled, your breaths mixing, you didn't move a single centimeter, you knew your legs would give way - but you still did your best to lean over and sit down, the semen running down your leg, dirtying the carpet.

He was a knight, taking your panties that he had stolen minutes ago, cleaning your pussy, just rubbing the leaked semen and smiling as he smiled. "Never handled a big dick? If you want, I can walk you to your room."

"Don't feel cocky, you looked like a drooling dog tasting pussy for the first time" He couldn't help but laugh as he leaned in, giving you a soft kiss on your lips. "Unlike you, I assume my sins"

You gave him a light push, and he just smiled. "We are two sinners, the difference is that you will convince yourself that you have not sinned, and I-" he showed you semen-stained panties. "I like to remember my sins."

©thingsnia is the author and owner of the content, do not translate or post on another platform.

[highonmarvel]

Helloooo! Can i please request an au where the reader has had a few toxic relationships and she’s trying to distract herself by those by starting her own business, turns out bucky or steve are an interested investor but they never really wanted her business and just her and somehow trap her into an arrangement…Sorry if it’s too specific! 💖💕💞💗⭐️

oh, this is such a good idea, i hope i did it justice!

HR

Bucky Barnes: Your ex has made sure you’ll never get a job in NYC again, but you’re determined to keep your head above water. Just as things are getting too bleak to bare, you meet James Barnes. 18+!

Dub/Non Con Warning!

additional content warnings here!

You yawn as you close your laptop, finally done with payroll for a small nursery school a few neighbourhoods over. Who knew Grade R teachers could have such horrible internal affairs?

You heart skips a beat as the lights flicker momentarily, and you worry your electricity will be cut off, but they stabilise, and you sigh in a relief, hand over your heart.

When you left Tony, he made sure you lost your friends, and your job, and your income has been less than minimum wage, you’re barely even scrapping by. You had been through this before, boyfriends trying to ruin your life—Thor, most notably—but you had to give Tony credit for really crippling you this time.

You weren’t able to get any office jobs again, having to settle on working for a sweet old woman in a small flower shop, which was kind, but it didn’t come close to paying your bills. Still, you refused to let Tony win; you had good qualifications; you had a bachelor in HR and nearly a decade of experience, and that no one would hire you didn’t stop you.

You started your own HR consultancy, an idea you to had spoken about to a friend a few times, but you were sure Tony had took care she never even looked at you again, so you did it alone, which would be way too much for a single person, except business was slow; but, make no mistake, you worked your ass off.

The nice thing about the flower shop is the sweet old lady allows you to hand out your business card to the few customers that come in. Only four or five people had actually taken it in the time you’d been working there, and reluctantly, at that.

You drag yourself to bed and crash pretty much immediately.

As usual, the morning is pretty much empty—one woman comes in but buys nothing and another stares through the window for 10 minutes—until around midday, when the air shifts.

The bell at the top of the door pulling your attention from your daydream and to a familiar-looking, tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a nice suit, which he adjusts the cuff of as he scans the room. His eyes meet yours and he smiles. You return the smile with a, “Welcome to Miss Roe’s Flower Shop. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Though his mouth doesn’t twist, his eyes glint with something odd, making his initially warm smile seem more sinister.

“Anything I can help you find in the store?” you feel the need to clarify.

He only asks you for the red roses, which you point to and he returns to the counter with a bunch.

“Romantic,” you mutter as you ring him up, and he chuckles, softly and, seemingly, sweetly.

You hand the bouquet back to him, and he plucks a rose from it and hands it to you, “A beautiful lady like yourself deserves one,” he winks, and you blush, stuttering out a thanks as you take it.

Just as he takes a step back, you yell out, “Wait!” louder than you intended, and slightly startling him, “Sorry,” you apologise, as you slide one of your business cards off the top of the stack and hand it to him, slightly nervous for some reason. He takes it curiously and scans over it.

“HR?” he asks, “Wouldn’t have thought it.”

You don’t really have to time to process that comment, let alone come up with a response before he continues, “Perfect timing, actually, I’ve been needing help in that area. I’ll give you a call, he smiles as he pockets the card, “Oh, and,” he reaches out a hand, “I’m James Barnes.”

That’s where you know him from! Barnes Industries, one of the most advanced tech companies in North America, and the CEO is interested in having you on his team.

You give him your name as you shake his hand.

“It was nice meeting you,” he says with a determined smile before slipping out the door.

Back home, in the kitchen, you’re not sure if he’s actually is going to call, especially when it’s approaching 19h00, maybe he was just being nice. He did seem a bit flirty… but maybe you imagined it, why would he want anything to do with you? And if he were being flirty, he surely wouldn’t then hire you.

You jump as your phone rings, nearly spilling boiling water all over yourself. You set down the pot and rush to the living room where your phone is singing and vibrating on the couch.

“Hello?” you answer, slightly breathless as you rest the device on your ear.

A female voice asks if this is the number for your HR Consultancy, to which you affirm.

“Please hold.”

You press your phone against you harder, heart beating a little faster as you bounce on your toes, waiting on hold with some generic elevator music doing nothing to soothe your nerves. After nearly five minutes, you’re ready to hang up when a voice answers.

“Good evening, I’m sorry for the late hour.”

“Mr Barnes!” you exclaim, before clearing your throat and sitting down, speaking in a lower, more professional voice, “It’s no issue at all, sir. Can I help you?”

“Would you mind coming in for a meeting? 8AM sharp tomorrow. I understand if you’re working—”

“I’ll be there,” you reply a little too enthusiastically, walking over to your desk to pick up a pen and pull out your notepad, “8AM, I’m assuming at Barnes Industries?” You take down the address he gives you even though the huge, skyscraper-tall building with a giant B and a rocket logo is pretty hard to miss.

When you hang up, you can’t help but jump up and down excitedly like a schoolgirl. Finally, your luck is turning around.

You straighten your skirt as you step into the building, grateful the sweet old lady had not only given you the day off, but been super supportive, convincing you would you get the job, and that settled your nerves slightly. Only slightly, though, as you walk up to the desk where a red-haired woman sits, looking alert, but a little bored.

“How may I help you?” she asks.

“Good morning, I’m here to see Mr Barnes,” you say, and then give her your name.

At the mention of your name, her eyes widen and she quickly stands, “Of course!” she says, “Right this way.”

Her heels click on the pristine white floors as she leads you to a fancy elevator and presses the button for the top floor.

“Should I be nervous?” you ask, trying to make conversation as each floor ticks by too slowly for your liking to get to the 60th.

She laughs politely and shakes her head, leaning in and speaking lower (despite only the two of you being in an-already small space), “For anyone else, I’d say yes, but Mr Barnes has been looking forward to your meeting; I think you’ve got a real shot. In fact, I think he’d pay anything you ask.”

She pulls away and raises her eyebrows at you.

Your mouth falls slightly open but you quickly close it and gulp lightly, tearing your gaze away from her to focus on a spot on the floor just in front of the doors. You don’t know if she’s exaggerating, you assume she has to be, because how could Mr Barnes even know if you were good at your job? For all he knows, you work in a flower shop and hand out cards for subpar services. Somehow, her words make you more anxious than they are comforting.

The doors finally open and she points you to the room at the end with big double doors.

“Good luck!” she smiles, and you watch the doors shut, the numbers go down for a few floors, and you’re left on your own.

You take a deep breath and turn back to face the apparently never-ending passage. You walk down the corridor in timed rhythm, counting 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4 until you reach the end on a 2. You knock on the door and are met with a “Come in,” from a masculine voice.

You slowly open the door, resisting the urge to peek your head in first like a child.

“Good morning, Mr Barnes,” you smile, speaking cheerily but still professionally.

“Ah, there she is!” he says as he stands from his desk and walks towards you, and for some reason now you really take note of the height-difference.

He gently grips your shoulders and kisses you on the cheek, to which you stiffen slightly, but try to cover up before he notices. His hands move to your waist and he leans in; you almost sidestep him thinking he’s trying to do… something else, but he only locks the door behind you, and you can’t tell if that’s better or worse than what you were expecting.

Your nerves flare up again, but in a different sense than if you were just going in for a job interview, adrenaline starting to prepare like you’re in danger. But you’re not… right? You’ve had dozens of interviews. You assume this time it’s just more scary because it’s with James Barnes himself.

“Nervous?” he asks as he steps back and gestures to a comfortable-looking leather armchair on the other side of his desk.

“A little,” you admit with an anxious and breathless laugh. He gives you a reassuring smile as he turns to a shelf behind him.

“Don’t be,” he says as he fixes himself a drink, “Whiskey?” he offers, “5PM somewhere and all that.”

You politely decline, and he settles into his seat across from you with his drink in hand. He takes a sip and sets the glass down to set his gaze on you, and you resist the urge to shift uncomfortably under his stare… it almost seems like he’s preventing himself from sizing you up.

“Why did you start your business?” he asks, “Honestly.”

“Well, I’ve been in HR for a while now, always had a passion for it, but I wanted to be more independent, and a little more flexible.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Honestly.”

“And I…” you don’t know why you say it, but you do, “I’ve had bad experiences with boyfriends in the past—and, please let me know if I’m being too unprofessional here, sir—”

“Bucky.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Call me Bucky.”

“All right… Bucky,” you smile, “I’ve had my most recent ex boyfriend try to ruin me; he got me fired, and no serious white collar will hire me, but I’m good at what I do, and I refuse to let him stop me from using my knowledge and expertise.”

“Tony Stark, is your ex, I take it?”

Your blood runs cold, and you deflate slightly, “Yes,” you sigh, “He is, and… and he treated me horribly, I couldn’t take it anymore, and even when I’m not with him, he still finds away to make my life hell.”

“I don’t trust that sleaze. In fact, anything he says, I do the opposite. I know you’re good at what you do, I can see your passion…”

You smile, relieved he believes you.

“… and I have a passion for you.”

You freeze, so your smile is still intact, “I’m sorry?” you ask, tilting your head slightly, sure you misheard him, but how could you have?

“You’re a smart girl, you know what I’ve been feeling, and you’re smart enough to know you’ve been suppressing your mutual attraction, but maybe too naïve to understand intentions.”

“Mr Barnes—”

“Bucky,” he corrects.

“Bucky, I—”

“I’ll pay whatever you want.”

You nearly snap at him, want to tell him you’re not for sale, but you stop yourself. You really, really need this job, you can’t afford to live another month.

“I know you need this job,” he says, as if he read your mind, pulling out a contract from his desk drawer, “And imagine if both Tony Stark and James Barnes said you were awful? You’ll never work in this city again.”

A tear rolls down your cheek as you take in the weight of his words, and you clutch your bag tighter in your lap.

“You’ll never work in this country again, you’ll be ruined, you’ll have nothing.”

You choke on a sob and cover your mouth with your hand as you shut your eyes.

“Why’re you crying? Honey, I’m offering you everything.”

“Thank you for… the opportunity,” you manage to get out between a deep breath as you shakily stand, and he stands with you.

You dart for the exit, but he grips your shoulders and turns you around, pushing you against door, your lower back painfully hitting the handle.

Soft blue eyes meet yours, so gentle and empathetic and caring you nearly forget the position you’re in, “I’m trying to help you,” he says, wiping away one of your stray tears, “If you walk out that door it’s over for you, you know that.”

Tears are falling more freely now and you fumble behind your back for the door handle, but the tall wood separating you from freedom doesn’t budge.

He wipes another tear with his thumb and pops it into his mouth before pulling it out adding his middle and index finger, never breaking eye contact with you, face stoic as your chest rises and falls rapidly.

You can do nothing but stare up at him helplessly as he hikes up your skirt and pushes two fingers inside you. You grip his shoulders with a gasp and he smiles as he slowly drags in and out of you.

“Didn’t even need to do that, you’re all ready.”

You turn your head to side and look away from him, shutting your eyes as you squeeze around him. He’s right, you were already wet, but your feeling of disgust is overpowered by the sensation of him pumping in and out of your more quickly, curling his fingers and hitting your sweet spot, over and over until you can hardly take it.

“B- Bucky, stop—” you try to get out, but you convulse, your stomach tensing as you cry out and arch your back, head thrown back before falling onto his shoulder, still crying softly. He removes his fingers and strokes your hair with his clean hand.

“Did so well for me, you see,” his voice is dark in your ear despite his praise, “You’re good at your job.”

✪

[taglist; @cjand10]

[julemmaes]

Happy birthday @simpingfornestaarcheron!! Even if I can't remember for the love of god how old you're turning (you'll always be 24 turning 25 to me) I thought I'd give you some Nessian goodies for your special day.

I swear it's not really angst. it's mostly domestic fluff.

Love you, enjoy!

(I didn't reread shit I'm sorry I started it yesterday night and then passed out cause I'm sick, so if there's any mistakes, well, I don't really care)

Nesta hated her job. She fucking despised it. 

There was not a single thing about her life that she enjoyed less than having to wake up in the morning to do something she disliked as much. She hated her colleagues. She hated her claustrophobic cubicle. She hated the stupid-hot-flavorless coffee they sold right outside her office. She hated the hours, the clothes she had to wear, the lonely lunch breaks. What she hated most, though, were the trips.

Her boss was a menace to society and why HR still hadn't fired him was beyond her. Her coworkers were so insanely dumb that sometimes she wondered how they'd even got the position. Her assistant had to be some kind of pity-hire cause there was so chance in hell he'd been interviewed and not fucked it up–he couldn't even print out a document on his own, for god's sake. 

Why was she still working that job, you might ask? 

For love. Love for her hardworking, supportive as hell, caring and lovely husband. 

She just had to endure two more years of this, while he finished his degree, and then she'd be free. Free to go back to the minimum wage job at the library. To that beautiful, silent, dusty place she loved so much. And she could start her studies.

Just another two years and it'd be her turn. Less than that, if she really thought about it. Only 18 months. 

Only 18 months. 

18 months. 

That was… 550 days, give or take. 

550 days. She could do this.

She walked into the elevator, her broken trolley dragging on the floor behind her, and only once the doors closed in front of her and the thing started moving up did she let out a sigh, sagging against the mirror. 

She was so goddamn tired. She just wanted to sleep the trip off, forget about everything that had gone wrong during it and let the even worse things she'd said go. 

She was so tired that the ding dong of the doors opening on her floor almost scared the living shit out of her. 

Walking to her apartment and finding the keys in her bag made her want to punch the front door off the hinges, but she refrained. She guessed her husband wouldn't want that.

As soon as she stepped in, a low mumbling coming from the kitchen welcomed her. It was music to her ears, even if she wanted to lay down and never have to hear a single word ever again. It sounded like home.

Cassian's murmuring only stopped when she closed the door behind her, making it known to everyone present that they weren't alone. 

“Nes? Is that you?” 

She smiled to herself, nodding silently. 

“Sweetheart, if it is, please talk, or I'm coming out with knives.” He sounded genuinely afraid and she chuckled.

“Yes.” She replied, talking loudly over her shoulder as she hung her coat. 

She heard furniture being thrown to the side and feet scuffling on the ground, and Cassian appeared a heartbeat later in the entry, his smile blinding, his eyes shining. He took two steps to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, hauling her against him. 

“It is you, my dearly missed wife,” he said dramatically.

She breathed in his washed away cologne from the day, melting on his shoulder and hiding her face in the crook of his neck. 

She'd missed him, too. 

“You're back early.” He whispered in her ear, not letting go of her just yet.

Nesta reflexively put her arms around his torso, tightening her grip to the point of pain. He squeezed her in turn, stroking the back of her head with gentle fingers. She closed her eyes, basking in that anchoring feeling of being taken care of, being loved.

Cassian knew she needed some quiet time whenever she came back from work so they stood there for minutes, just touching, no talking, unwinding from a very long week without each other.

“You're back early,” he repeated, pulling away just enough for him to look at her face. He brushed a strand of stray hair away from her nose and cupped her cheek, sweeping a thump right below her eye. He smiled, even if a concerned wrinkle appeared between his eyes.

She nodded, leaning in his touch. 

“Are you tired, sweetheart?” He asked, his voice a faint lullaby. 

She could only nod again. 

“Why don't you go into the bathroom and I run you a hot bubbly bath, uh?” He suggested, touching a knuckle to her chin.

Another nod. He cleared his throat and leaned in, placing a soft soft kiss to her lips. Nesta sighed when he stepped back and let him go reluctantly when he started walking towards the back of the house. 

“There's still hot water on the stove, if you want some tea.”

She took a deep breath and bent forward, starting to open her luggage. Cassian made the short jog back to her and tugged on her blouse, making her rise again. Her back cracked as they both laughed.

“Leave it, I'll take care of it while you bathe. Go get the tea and come meet me in the bathroom.” 

Nesta smiled up at him, touching his chest, tiptoeing to kiss him again. He met her halfway, placing a hand on the small of her back to keep her close. 

“Thank you,” she said against his lips, noses brushing.

“I love you, now go.” He said, pressing another kiss to her forehead. 

“No bubbles, please.” 

“No bubbles coming your way, I swear.”

He left at that, swinging his hips left and right to make her laugh. It worked.

She was still boiling over in her hatred towards her job when she made her way to the kitchen and what she saw there put everything into perspective again. The table was basically collapsing under the weight of what was at least twenty textbooks and thousands of papers. A myriad of colored pencils and highlighters was scattered on every surface and from what she could see, Cassian had at least fifteen tabs open on his laptop. The floor was a canvas of written post-it notes and more papers, organized in what seemed to be a map.

He really was doing his best. 

Her heart tugged a little as she poured the water in her favorite mug. The bone-deep exhaustion and lack of will to live were not for nothing. She was doing this for him and that was enough motivation not to quit. 

She walked to the living room, warm beverage in her hands, and looked around to see if there was anything she'd have to do tomorrow. Maybe tidy up, go grocery shop, clean the whole house. But no, everything looked perfect as usual. 

She was about to go look in their bedroom, when Cassian called to her, “Nes? It's ready.” 

Slowly, she dragged herself to him. He was standing next to their tub, looking at the water filling up and when she finally stopped next to him he curled his arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple.

“You eaten anything yet?” 

She shook her head, “No, my boss asked me if I wanted to come back with him tonight while I was about to head to the restaurant. Didn't have time to order take away.”

He hummed. “Are you hungry? Do you want me to cook you something?” 

“Not really, no,” she tilted her head to the side, facing him. “Thank you, though.”

Cassian looked down at her then, bringing her closer to him. “Are you okay, baby? You look exhausted.” 

The unsease in his voice made her want to cry. 

“Just tired, don't worry about it.” 

He nodded, kissing her again. It didn't look like he was going to stop anytime soon, either. She didn't mind. 

“I'll let you decompress a little,” he murmured against her cheek, leaving yet another peck on her lips. “You sure you don't want food? Not even grilled cheese? A tiny sandwich?”

“A hundred percent sure,” she chuckled. 

“Well, then, in that case,” he kissed her again, this time deepening the kiss, drinking from her mouth, breathing from her lungs. He kissed her bottom lip and left her there, stunned.

***

Nesta was crunching up her hair as she exited the bathroom and strode for the bedroom, her feet freezing on the stone cold floors. 

Cassian grinned at her from his perch on the pillows when she stopped at the foot of the bed. “You feeling better?” 

“Reborn,” was her only reply.

She tied her hair up in a towel and crawled on the sheets to him, where she laid across his body: her head on his heart, a leg slung over his hips, her arm around his waist. 

His chest rumbled with laughter.

“Are you comfy like this?” 

“Mhmh, so good.” 

She almost moaned as he put down his book and moved so that their bodies intertwined. One of his legs went between hers, an arm under her head while the other around her waist and to her back, where he pushed her flat to his chest. He put his lips to her head and stayed in that position long enough that Nesta thought he'd fallen asleep. 

She certainly had been on the gates of unconsciousness when he talked.

“I know I don't say it often, but thank you.” 

Nesta had to put actual effort in staying awake, so she only ran the hand that wasn't stuck between their bodies down his back in soothing motions.

“I hope you know that I'm grateful for you and what you're doing for me.” 

His voice sounded rough, as if he was worried what her reaction would be. That was enough to make her worry, and even though sleep was calling her under, she couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off.

Gently stroking his sternum with her knuckles, she said, “I know you are, Cass. You don't need to tell me.” 

He shuffled a little, rearranging limbs and pulling her tight to him. 

“I just don't want you to think I'm slacking off or chilling in between classes and exams while you work your ass off.” 

At that point, Nesta tried to free herself from his grip. That he thought–

“Let's… can we, please, stay like this? I really missed having you home. Can you stay here?” 

It was barely a whisper and Nesta's heart seized. Her stomach bottomed. Her head twirled.

“Of course we can. I can.” She put her hand flat on his chest, feeling his wild heartbeat. “Cassian, what's going on? Are you okay?” 

“Yes, yes. I am. I swear. I just,” another pause, a deep breath. “I see you getting home every night and you look like death, no offense. You just look so fucking tired, Nes, all the time. Whenever you come back from another trip you look so done with everything. And I really don't want you thinking I don't appreciate everything you're doing for us. For me.”

She closed her eyes, leaning her head to his collarbone. This didn't sound like something that'd just come up. It felt more like something he'd been sitting on for a long time. 

“How long have you been having these thoughts?” 

He sniffed, “That's not the point.”

“It is for me,” she said firmly, but gently.

She gave him a moment to think, to gather his words. They stayed silent so long she seriously thought he'd fallen asleep on her, again.

“A few weeks. Since your last trip to Adriata,” he admitted.

Nesta hugged him closer. “That's almost four months ago, baby.”

“I know.”

“Why only bring it up now?”

“What would have changed? Short of me quitting uni and finding a job myself, there's nothing I can do to fix this for you.” He sounded pained. Like he truly believed he was the cause of her every malaise.

She moved back then, even when he tried to keep her in his embrace. She still lay down on her side, but she was now looking him in the eyes, a deep scowl on her face.

“What would have changed?” She parroted him, skimming her fingers down the side of his face. “Everything, Cass. I'd have told you this isn't on you. That we literally flipped a coin to see who would go to university first, while the other worked. This is not on you. It never has been and it never will.

“I don't want you to think you're causing me any kind of stress. Or pain. You need to focus on your classes and you taking care of that and the house in the meantime is enough. You're doing enough, love.”

He looked frantic, like he couldn't, wouldn't believe her words. She breathed in, offering what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

“You've already come such a long way. You're more than halfway through it. Yes, I am tired and I don't like my job, I'm not gonna lie, but do you have any idea how happy and proud I am of you, every time you walk through our front door and tell me your results? Or simply start ranting about your latest paper?  I love it. I love you.” 

He sprung forward, catching her lips between his, taking everything she was offering and giving back twice as much. 

He touched his forehead to hers, “I just wish it was me.”

“And I don't, and we've had this conversation far too many times.” She reminded him.

That was true. They had fought months over who, between the two of them, would sacrifice five years of their lives by carrying the economic expenses of their little family on their backs while the other studied. 

At the end of the day, after hours listing pros and cons, weighing every option in the universe, they found that the only reasonable solution was to flip a coin. Nesta's relief when it'd landed on head (her choice) had been so palpable that it didn't leave room for discussion. 

And while she really, really, really didn't like her job, she never had a day of regret.

Cassian settled down after that, an arm bent behind his head and the other around her shoulders still. Nesta knew it was all pretense and he wasn't convinced, but she had no fight left in her right then. 

She just needed her husband to hold her and let her sleep for at least ten hours. So she told him as much and Cassian chucked that rocky, low laugh of his. 

She turned her back to his, letting him engulf her with his whole body. His mouth brushed her ear and right before she finally fell, his words pierced through her heart. 

I love you.

[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug watches 'The Bad Batch': Pabu

So, maybe it's because the Razorbacks are currently up over the Tigers, which makes Doug's LSU loving self extra fired up this evening, but I have made the mistake of asking him again about his opinion on the episode after 'The Outpost', which was 'Pabu'.

He called this both 'HR Goes to Daytona' and 'Did I miss an episode?'.

Doug: Make sure you put one of my Baton Rouge boys on the internet too right now. GEAUX TIGERS.

CW: Doug insults everyone, everything, and is generally a cantankerous old jerk in this one. His wife should have unplugged his internet. Lots of adult everything, ranging from language to...well, if you're under 18, please be warned.

Prepare thyself, especially if you're a TechxPhee fan. The amount of angry emojis I got in the text messages were pretty wild.

----

'Pabu' aka 'HR Goes to Daytona'

Oh it’s Church Lady and it’s Sunday service. Why is little orphan blondie in the bar with her? Daddy Rambo has his knife but you know the man was plowing vodka out of sight here. He’s tired.

I thought he hated Church Lady? Did I miss an episode?

Ah, now Ryan-from-Accounting is playing solitaire. Atta boy, get your mind off the bitch wife Laura. If he makes out with that garbage robot I’ll throw up. 

Time to skee-daddle. Woah! Church Lady just grabbed Ryan-from-Accounting. That man looks terrified, probably because he found a Youtube video of her taking down muggers behind Manning's after a Pelicans game. Bitch wife Laura gonna blow a gasket.

But such is the way of the Church Lady, I have known many in my day. “I groped the hot new usher in Jesus’s house, but it’s okay, The Lord forgives”.

(praise the Lord and pass the Tabasco)

No, seriously, did I miss an episode? I feel like I did.  

Houma-BBQ bitch is bitching, as is her wont. I wonder what sauce her tail would taste best with. Carolina Gold? I’d cook her brisket style. Oh, wait, back to the show. 

And now they’re on paradise! Daytona Beach! Who is this guy, he looks like he used to play hoops now he plays how much dessert he can eat at Golden Corral. Props to him, that lava cake is gold. Hope Rex and Toaster Strudel are there.

Where are Rex and Toaster Strudel.

No, really, where are Rex and Toaster Strudel.

I’m getting real mad here, where are Rex and Toaster Strudel. 

CHURCH LADY, GET BACK IN YOUR SPACE UBER AND GO FIND REX AND TOASTER STRUDEL. I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOUR MUSEUM OF SHIT YOU FOUND IN PEOPLE’S BACKYARDS AND THE DUMPSTER BEHIND THE KEY LARGO PUBLIX, GO GET REX AND TOASTER STRUDEL.

SHOVE RYAN-FROM-ACCOUNTING BACK INTO THE DRIVER’S SEAT, PAY FOR HIS GAS, AND GO GET REX AND TOASTER STRUDEL. 

“You have some competition”. From what, there’s gonna be a hot dog eating contest or something? Why does Ryan-from-Accounting look so upset? 

(“I think they’re trying to set him and Phee up, Doug.” “What, when did that happen? Did I miss an episode?”)

Ryan-from-Accounting looks either sad or excited and I’m so confused. Maybe it’s because I’ve been married since before the dinosaurs but why is he either frowning and freaked out by Church Lady or smiling at Church Lady? Is he having a breakdown like my nephew did after he lost his job? Does Bitch Wife Laura know about this? Does he like Church Lady or is he planning on pepper spraying her? Did I miss an episode? Is this how the children flirt on the Ticky-Tack? No wonder y’all aren’t getting married any more. 

(“Doug, you did not miss an episode. And it is called Tik-Tok.” “I MISSED AN EPISODE. I KNOW I DID, AND IT IS CALLED THE TICKY-TACK!!!”) 

Ya know who would solve these questions? REX AND MOTHER LOVING TOASTER STRUDEL, WHO AIN’T HERE. THEY NEED TO BE HERE. WHERE ARE YOU HIDING THEM CHURCH LADY. 

Oh lovely, Hoops forgot to make a reservation at BoneFish, so they’re having his gas station sushi. Not one shrimp or crab on that table? Y’all Hoops is failing so hard right now, as a boy from Louisiana I’m just offended. His momma raised that man WRONG. 

You know who would love sushi on the beach while watching the sun set? REX AND TOASTER STRUDEL, and Daddy Warcrimes and Sassy Park Ranger too. 

I MISS SASSY PARK RANGER ALREADY!!!!!!

But no, Rex and Toaster Strudel are busy at work saving the galaxy while Julio and the gang throw back cocktails and stare at the sun like they dropped cheap acid they bought in a sketchier part of Biloxi. Which is all of Biloxi, I guess. 

Oh, and Ryan-from-Accounting is awkward around Church Lady and stares at his phone lest that Bitch Wife Laura of his get a snap of them sitting together and Little Orphan Blondie pets a monkey. I hope they all get food poisoning. I’m so mad.

They need Toaster Strudel the way I need FSU to lose this weekend, I have money on that game too. WHY IS ARKANSAS STILL UP IN THE SECOND QUARTER.

Ah, Little Orphan Blondie’s on a boat with her new buddy, that’s nice. If she doesn’t find Rex and Toaster Strudel out in the ocean with James Cameron I hope–oh, shoot, I was in the navy. I know what that water means. Oh boy.

Well bless Ryan-from-Accounting, he watches Big Tuna and knows how to do a rescue. Church Lady looks happy. He finally touched her, it only took a natural disaster and a whole lot of nagging on her part. Oh, poor Church Lady, you need a guy who actually likes you back. 

Seriously, why does that man look like the subject of them shitty videos HR makes us watch once a year so we don’t get sued? I don’t know, but I’m starting to understand why his Bitch Wife Laura is the way she is. I can’t believe the episode they filmed in Daytona makes me feel for her, but it do. 

(“Doug, you’re making up Bitch Wife Laura in your head. She’s not in the show.” “Well, it’s clear that I missed some episodes, so maybe I missed the Bitch Wife Laura ones.” “No, you didn’t miss any, I promise.” “Are you SURE?!”)

Man, the tsunami got people running like it’s Black Friday Wal-Mart in Tampa. But they rescued an old guy and Daddy Rambo got the stolen work truck working to rescue the kids. Hooray, I guess. 

You know who would have done a better job? Of all of this?

REX AND MOTHER-LOVING TOASTER STRUDEL. But they ain’t here!

(Doug's love for them runs hard and it runs deep, for which I can empathize)

You know who should have been on a beach horking down Mai Tais and getting into Church Lady and her handsy hands?

POOR POOR SASSY PARK RANGER. BUT HE DIED BACK IN WYOMING.  I bet he’d love a back massage from Church Lady too! He’d sass her, she’d sass him back, and they’d make out on the beach while Daddy Warcrimes played the saxophone behind them or something. I support that. I’d like that. He’s got brown eyes.*

Make it work, Star Wars, damn it. 

(Doug has unlocked a new rarepair, I guess: Mayday and Phee? WTF?)

Well they’re hanging out here in Daytona for the time being, I guess. Julio passed out under a tree like a drunk uncle at a cookout. Everyone's smiling.

I’d be smiling too, knowing that REX AND TOASTER STRUDEL ARE ACTUALLY SAVING PEOPLE WHILE YOU CLOWNS STOMP AROUND FLORIDA. 

Stop smiling at Church Lady, Ryan-from-Accounting! Is it because you finally filed HR complaint paperwork or because you filed for divorce papers from Bitch Wife Laura? Why are you smiling?! Church Lady belongs to Sassy Park Ranger! 

(“Doug…Sassy Park Ranger’s dead. He and Church Lady never met. You need to stop.” “IF THEY CAN BRING PALPATINE BACK, THEY CAN BRING SASSY PARK RANGER BACK TOO!”) 

*=I NEED FAN ART OF THIS NOW, please @amalthiaph! Help me out!

[sp00kymulderr]

take the long way home - part 2

series masterlist

Pairing: Marcus Pike x afab reader

Warnings: 18+, mentions of sex, one night stand, cursing, reader is a mess, Marcus is Marcus.

Word Count: 1k

Series Summary:  Classic story, right? You meet a handsome man, let him take you home, and plan to never see him again. Of course, these things rarely go to plan.

A/N: To follow for fic updates only go to @sp00kyupdates​ or see taglist details on my masterlist.

Marcus feels sick.

The moment he see's you in that meeting room, his new employee, he feels quesy with it. You...the person who had come in to his life one evening and left it without a word the next morning. He had thought about seeing you again, too many times to count...but hell, not like this. 

Definitely not like this.

When he had woken up that morning to find you already gone from his bed, from his home and from his life his first feeling had been quite reasonably one of disappointment. Marcus hated waking up alone, no one to talk to, no one to kiss good morning - in the past he had even chased relationships just to not be alone. After a breakup he would wake unfulfilled and lonely in bed, unable to shake the feeling for weeks. After Teresa it had been worse. 

Maybe he was naive but he had assumed you would at least let him make you breakfast, after what you had let him do the previous night. But you hadn’t left even a note, not your number pinned to his fridge or a ‘thanks for the memories’. Not even a quick cup of coffee and a kiss on the cheek. Had it been too much to expect? Was he just not well versed on the one night stand anymore? Maybe he really was just still making mistakes over and over again…just like before.

Now he thinks back to that night. Before you’d gotten home - before you’d gotten in to his bed. You’d mentioned a new life - a new job and a fresh start - in that hopeful but melancholy tone that had drawn him to you in the first place. God, he had never thought for a moment the job could be here. In his department. Working with him. Maybe he should’ve asked more but then there hadn’t been much talking after the bar.

So Marcus stands in that meeting room shell shocked and feeling sick. Not just that…he feels anxious and unsure and he doesn’t even think there is protocol in the HR documents for this kind of thing.

He stays silent for just a beat too long and someone in the room clears their throat. He’s just standing there barely through the doorway, staring at the new hire.

The prettiest new hire he could've ever imagined.

Damn he was screwed.

****

You give him a smile, hopefully something professional and not something that says ‘oh god oh god I slept with my boss’.

"Nice to meet you, Agent Pike" You say confidently, saving him from his freeze as you stand up to shake his hand. If you can just keep everything professional you’ll be fine, right? It was one night and it didn’t mean a thing, right?

The contact of his hand on yours sends a spark of memory right through to your brain and you have to blink sharply to stop seeing that same hand disappearing beneath the hem of your dress not that long ago.

"You alright, boss?" One of the others, Michael you think, says to him.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Busy morning, just trying to catch my thoughts before we go over this case" Marcus clears his throat and finally moves to sit down at the head of the table.

"So..." he takes one more moment, a breath, before pulling some papers from a binder.

There’s a syndicate of art forgers operating out of Chicago. Marcus talks the team through it as you try so, so hard to listen and not think about the things your mind is apparently determined to make you think on. This is your new job and your new life; you can't screw it up just because you screwed the wrong person.

Not again.

You want to think about work. You’ve uprooted your whole life to be someone new, someone better. But how the hell can you be that when your boss is a man with huge brown eyes and a soulful stare and a kiss that could stop time?

Somewhere in the distance you hear someone saying your name, but you're pretty damn lost in whatever the hell is happening in your mind.

"Huh?" You say, and see eight expectant faces staring back at you.

"Did you want to...can you introduce yourself to the team?" Marcus is speaking, of course it's his voice.

His voice had moaned your name just a few short weeks ago. If it wouldn’t look completely nuts you’d slap yourself just to get that damn thought out of your head.

"Oh. Yeah. Of course” You mumbled, trying to get your thoughts back on track. You sit up straighter and try for that air of confidence.

“I just transferred from New York - Organized Crime division - going for a bit of a change after…” After I got my heart broken by my partner… “After closing off one of the biggest cases. I needed something uh, different”

Not a lie, although not the whole truth. You’d worked with your partner for years and you’d loved them for years and then they’d met someone else. Just like that. After the case you’d been chasing for years was finally put to an end you’d had to get out of there and never see them again. But your new team didn’t need to know that. Your new boss definitely didn’t need to know that.

You look at the team. All of them pleasant, all of them welcoming. But all you feel is this pit of dread in your stomach. You don’t look at Marcus. After a few questions about your work, and an introduction to the others' roles they’re leaving the room before you even realize the meeting has ended.

And just like that it's you and Marcus in the room together. 

You clasp your hands together and stand awkwardly from your chair. You should look at him but god you don't want to look at him. How could you have let this happen, why did you have to go home with him that night? Why did you have to keep making these stupid decisions? 

"So...new job huh?" Marcus finally breaks the silence with a weak voice and you look over at him, steeling yourself. You will not be taken in by those warm brown eyes, you will not.

"Yeah. New job" You start, not sure what exactly to say 

“We should probably talk-“ He begins but you cut him off with a shake of your head.

"Look…Blank slate? Lets just- We’ll pretend we’ve never met before. It was only one night, it’s not like we know each other” 

Perhaps in your dream world, you’d like this to be different. He’s handsome and kind and you had really enjoyed your night with him. But this is the real world, and life isn’t a goddamn fairytale where you can make eyes at your boss without consequence.

“This job is really important for me. It's really, really important I don't screw it up" You explain and look at him with pleading eyes. Marcus looks disappointed? Upset? You're not sure. You don't like his expression.

"Blank slate, yeah, that's fair. I wouldn't want to start you off on the wrong foot here…. It was just the one night. Right" Marcus's voice is a little quiet, like he's not sure he believes those words as he looks at you - you feel like his eyes are searching yours for something. You try very hard to not give him anything to find.

“Well…" He finally gets up, saying your name as he opens the door for you.

“Welcome to the team. It’s nice to meet you” 

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Fic Titles W/ Parenthesis Masterlist

Absolutely Smitten (I’ll Never Let You Go) - manchestereyes

Summary: In which Dan is a much-adored primary school music teacher, and Phil is just the science teacher who can’t keep his mind off of him. But when the students notice and try to get in on the action, will Phil finally work up the courage to ask Dan out?

As Fate (or a really weird guy named David) Would Have It (ao3) - husbants

Summary: Phil has been stood up. Just as he’s leaving, a frantic (and absolutely handsome) guy rushes in the restaurant, looking for his own first date.

Maybe tonight won’t be as bad as it once seemed it would.

before we turn into a monster (with two heads) (ao3) - blueshirt

Summary: “Once this case is over, I’m getting a new job. Maybe one where I just sit in my bedroom and make videos about my life. That would be nice,” Dan muses dreamily to himself—or rather, mumbles indistinctly to himself, because it’s a little hard to articulate when you’ve been shoved into the trunk of a moving car, bound, and gagged.

Or, the 30K Secret Agents AU that nobody asked for, featuring an undercover mission as husbands, annoying coworkers with a betting pool (Dan is going to complain to HR about Felix), and inevitable slow-dancing to Ed Sheeran.

dancing on the blades (you set my heart on fire) (ao3) - kishere

Summary: Dan Howell is an ice skater in England, a non power player in the world of competitive ice skating. Phil Lester is the greatest ice skater to come out of England in the past decade, part of a family legacy. When Dan is offered a spot at Phil’s family gym, he learns what he was missing the most to be the best ice skater he could be.

Or: the yuri on ice inspired au

First Impressions (Perhaps I Was Wrong) (ao3) - Ablissa

Summary:

Phil Lester goes back to university for his third year, expecting to live in the dorms with his childhood best friend PJ. That’s how it’s been for the past years, after all. However, due to a mistake of some sort, he finds himself with a new roommate to spend the semester with. Daniel Howell, three years his junior, has rich brown eyes, a laptop to hide them behind, and not more than two words to spare in Phil’s direction. Phil is no fortune teller, but he foresees the upcoming months will be filled with a whole lot of awkward silence.

Unless, of course, Dan proves him wrong… Could one little mistake lead to something entirely life-changing? Perhaps it could. After all, nearly everything changes when Phil meets Dan.

First to Listen (To Anything I Said) (ao3) - SylvesterLester

Summary: It’s 2004, and Dan Howell is screwing up in school. He can’t help that he’s stuck in boring classes with boring people and just doesn’t care. So when Phil Lester, one of the geekiest kids in school, is assigned to be his tutor, he’s expecting this to just be another crappy part of his already crappy life.

But when it turns out Phil might be Dan’s first real friend, his hormones threaten to screw all that up. Because that’s all it is, right? Hormones?

for the first time in such a long time (I know I’ll be okay) (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: Three conversations in Phil’s bedroom in 2009.

Fuck The Past (Dan vs Phil vs Daniel) (ao3) - phandomsub

Summary: Daniel and Phil decide to mess around with a book of spells for their new video. It’s all just a good laugh, until they somehow end up transporting 18-year-old Dan from 2009 into 2017. The only logical solution is: threesome.

He Keeps On Dropping Hints (so i won’t be the only one that’s going down for this) (ao3) - cafephan

Summary: Dan has discovered that solo tour life can be lonely in more ways than one. One particularly restless night, he aims to satiate himself - though Phil seems determined to make it as difficult as possible.

I Don’t Know Anyone Else (Who Can Make Me Feel This Way) (ao3) - rainbowchristy

Summary: It started as a simple video idea. Little did Phil know, it’d lead to the missing piece in his life. A piece by the name of Dan.

Or: Phil tries cooking and his pregnant neighbour comes by to ask for some of whatever smells so good. Several times.

I’ll follow you into the dark (or at least off this zip-line) (ao3) - nivi_chip

Summary: basically Dan’s stuck on a zip line, and well, you can read the rest :)

(not a) boyfriend hoodie (ao3) - dizzy

Summary: Phil really likes cuddling up in Dan’s new hoodie.

Which would be fine, if it were actually Dan’s hoodie.

oh, i’m trying (not to give in to you) (ao3) - Buttercups

Summary: dan is greg’s little brother. greg is phil’s best friend.

phil discovers what craving someone actually means

Our Wildest Dreams Came True (Not One of Them Involving You) (ao3) - roryonice

Summary: Based on Misery Business by Paramore. Dan has a crush on Phil and always flirts with him at parties, and Phil hooks up with someone else to make Dan jealous.

Pretty Odd (Things Have Changed For Me and That’s Okay) (ao3) - Cadensaurus (orphan_account)

Summary: Baby!fic in which one day, Phil wakes up with a baby in his bedroom and finds out that apparently he and Dan are the only ones who don’t know where this baby came from, as everybody else claims that it’s Phil’s. What happens next is they then end up raising a baby together, with no less than a few existential crises from both of them along the way, as well as plenty of blunders and mishaps. Oh, and through it all, Phil starts falling for Dan but doesn’t dare tell him because he can’t risk losing his best friend.

Send My Love (To Your New Lover) (ao3) - phantasticworks

Summary: Dan has some jealousy issues to deal with when he finds out Phil has had a run-in with someone from his past.

so tell me i’m a rainbow (it makes me feel alright)(ao3) - natigail

Summary: Dan wanted to go to London Pride this year, but doubt and anxiety creeps up on him and he can’t make himself go. It’s okay.

The city is so loud (but you drown out all the noise) (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Phil’s pack might have kicked him out for mating with a human, but his love for Dan was much stronger than anything he’d ever experienced before. It wasn’t easy to adjust to living with Dan in his - now their - small flat in London, but Phil would do it again in a heartbeat. With Dan by his side, Phil was sure he could get used to all the weird things humans did.

they don’t know (about us) (ao3) - calvinahobbes

Summary: Dan and Phil in Jamaica, July 2010.

Tried To Do Headstands For You (Every Time I Fell On You) (ao3) - popsongnation

Summary: coffee shop/uni AU in which Dan keeps injuring himself in increasingly ridiculous ways, Phil regularly has to patch him up, and it’s Christmas time.

[bluginkgo]

Here's the promised behind scenes of Scavenging! The page that I'll be using, since I already have shown the boarding of it, is 6.

The process goes as this:

1. First, get a delusional thought that was coined by the absolute solver.

2. Start rough drafting! I remember back when I was making comics at the awful age of 12, I went into a comic with no ideas or thoughts on how the layout of a page is gonna look like. So I decided to rough draft the entire story so I wouldn't forget it.

3. Fun part, story boarding!

This section takes the shortest. Figure out how the layout is gonna be of the panels and in what position the characters are.

4. Sketch

This can take between 30 mins to an hour, depending on how well I'm focused and how confusing of a perspective I picked.

5. Outline is fairly straightforward. Something I learned 2 pages into the comic, it's easier to simply draw the eyes on a separate layer, so I don't mess up the body outlining and stuff when I recolor the eyes.

6. Color and render. Coloring takes the longest, at least an hour. Made me wanna cry sometimes. Rendering is fun though!

7. Dialogue, and that's all!

Each page takes roughly 3-4 hrs. Now as for gutting all this >:)

3-4 hrs is a lot for, in my opinion, mediocre art. There's a lot of space for improvement. The flow of the comic pages is for one. Another is consistency in COLOR. Made a mistake of not creating a color chart for these guys, and if you didn't notice, N's yellow lights somehow ended up orange towards the end, and I still can't settle on his hair style. Fun times. Aaaand last one would be drawing bodies better. Yup, surprise! I do well in sketching/drawing when I have a reference like with the memes. Stand alone, though? I'm pretty useless on anatomy. So I'll be working on that! AND DARN YOU PAGE 18!!! I forgot Uzi's sweater design, rip.

But I'm glad so many of you enjoyed it! And thank you @brookiedaaroacecookie for encouraging me ^_^

Currently, I'm working on the animal counterparts remastered scenes. That will be dropping by sometime at the beginning of January. Once that's done, the next NUzi comic, Sleep, will be started!

[whumpster-fire]

25 Exciting Phrases to Spice Up Your Next Business e-Mail

1: "Dear Motherfucker,"

2: "To whom it may concern, as well as the entire company directory who I am cc'ing because none of you care about my time so I don't care about yours,"

3: If you'd like to know why I am sending this e-mail, please consider reading it for fucking once."

4: "If I do not see conclusive evidence of your head being out of your ass in the next 3-5 business days, I will remove it from your shoulders."

5: "Please attach a current headshot and resume: the latter so I can laugh at your alleged qualifications, the former so I can print it out and put it on a dartboard as advised by HR's Anger Management Seminar"

6: "Due to the considerable destructive forces at my command,"

7: "Cc'ing The Pope on this one to keep him in the loop since the magnitude of this clusterfuck is nothing short of Biblical,"

8: "This is the fourth e-mail I have sent asking you to do your goddamn job. The fifth will be attached to a brick hurled through your office window. You do not want to know what the sixth will be, so get your shit together ASAP please."

9: "Please keep in mind that refraining from inappropriate use of the Reply All button is the only thing separating us from descending into complete Lord Of the Flies anarchy."

10: "All, please review the selection of Dilbert cartoons attached below and reflect on how they might be relevant to the current situation and your role in it."

11: "The Carpool Committee has unanimously voted to play exclusively Alvin And the Chipmunks songs in any vehicle you are a passenger in for a month the next time you schedule a mandatory meeting before 8 AM."

12: "The potted Ficus tree by the 4th Floor break room will be taking the lead on this project from this point on since it is more qualified than any of you."

13: "I didn't think I needed to inform everyone that 'accidentally' stapling your balls to get out of Company Spirit Meetings early is against company policy. However,"

14: "Due to recent events, any personal office supplies brought from home, e.g. paperweights, must now be checked with a Geiger counter."

15: "Please be advised that if you reply with a question that indicates you have not read and understood the list of action items below in its entirety, I will kick you in the teeth so hard you will chew with your appendix in the future."

16: "We regret to announce that Sean is now an outlaw and no longer protected by our Workplace Violence Policy. This decision was not made lightly, but the current situation re: the break room microwaves has forced our hand. Cc'ing Sean to keep him in the loop."

17: "Please keep in mind that you are neither the most profitable nor the most important of our clients, and your disproportionate share of billable hours is due primarily to your whininess, entitled attitude, and inability to give a straight answer."

18: "If you feel the need to contact me outside my scheduled hours, please write your issue on a piece of letter sized paper, then roll it up, seal it inside a glass bottle, and cast it into the ocean. This will get a faster response than emailing, calling, or texting me at 1 in the fucking morning."

19: "Team, As a result of employees being bombarded with hundreds of e-mails after inadvertently hitting reply all, we are now instituting the following change to our e-mail communication policy: to help prevent duplicate corrections, when admonishing a coworker who you feel has used Reply All inappropriately, please make sure to use Reply All as well so the other recipients can see that the responsible party has already been notified of their mistake."

20: "Cc'ing you on every e-mail about this issue due to your record of not giving a shit about a problem unless your time is being wasted."

21: "Please do not disturb the protective circle of salt around the 2nd fridge from the left in the break room, and do not under any circumstances open it without appropriate PPE and an escort from an old priest and a young priest."

22: "After consulting with Legal and HR, we have determined that the ficus tree by the 4th floor break room dispersing pollen into the office environment does not constitute a violation of our sexual harassment policy. Also, please be advised that the ficus tree is female and is not the source of your pollen allergies. No disciplinary action will be taken against it. However, your repeated complaints targeted at the ficus tree based on its status as a plant may constitute a hostile work environment. Please meet with HR ASAP to discuss this further."

23: "Team, Placing an 'Elf On the Shelf' in any location on company premises or within your home office where it may be able to see, overhear, or access proprietary information will result in disciplinary action up to and including termination of employment. Company proprietary data may not be divulged to any unauthorized third parties, and that includes Santa Claus."

24: "Cc'ing Santa Claus to keep him in the loop on this one."

25: "Sincerely, The Only Guy Who Does His Goddamn Job Around Here."

[loadednachosao3]

what I make is WILDLY inconsistent from month to month, which is inconvenient, so it needs to be planned around. I could make $600 or $8k depending on the customers, my health, whether or not I made any content for passive sales recently... my average when you take into account my best customer is about $200/hr, but if I were to just talk to a rando on the phone instead of fucking around with my whale, my rate has me earning about $120/hr. that doesn't include anything extra, like tributes (tips, basically), content buys, or things like that.

that also doesn't mean I WILL make that much just by being signed on. I could wait for hours for a 2-minute call, or I could talk for 3 hours to the same guy and rake in bank. it all depends.

for me, with the niches I've picked, it comes pretty naturally. I've always been a very sexual person, so this career progression wasn't too difficult for me! the hardest part is making sure at the start to learn all the common scams so you can stop yourself from falling for them.

and BOUNDARIES! especially for people who have been socialized not to "rock the boat," it can be difficult to enforce them at first. but you need to be able to do that in this business! even if you market as submissive, stand firm!

but as far as the actual work goes... some guys are more difficult than others because their kinks aren't as familiar to me, or they're really picky, or I need to be tuned the fuck in the entire time... usually though, it's a lot of being mean, laughing at their tiny dicks, and taunting them with my body, which is easy peasy by now!

ok, I guess I lied a bit... when you're independent, there's also the matter of things like marketing, graphic design, audiovisual editing... the clerical work is a SLOG! so be aware if you try to go into it that that's what you're in for. it's a job like any other, so it's not a total breeze!

TAXES TOO!! you have to do them on your own, or get a sex worker-friendly accountant (lots will turn you down if you do 18+ work). so set aside 30% for that (or however much for your area)!

as for its similarities to 1-800-SALAMANCA, I actually based a lot of the content off of my real experiences! I modeled early Nacho off of some of my most annoying customers, lmao. the stubbornness, the hanging up without saying bye, the "you're the Dom, aren't you supposed to tell me my own kinks without me giving you any info???" bullshit, deleting and remaking the account... a little bit of a vent story there, LOL!

now, I don't have as glamorous a career as Lalo, nor do I have nearly as many finsubs. but I've done my fair share of findom before, so Lalo's personality is sort of a mixture of my persona and how I'd imagine him as a character to act! also, the site they use is named the way it is because it's a parody of the site I mainly work on, lmao. but with improved functionality.

I got into it because I had health issues that caused me to quit my vanilla job. I tried to be a freelance writer for a while... what a mistake! I should have gotten right into sex work, then maybe I wouldn't have had to piss through all my savings. I just figured, I like sex, camgirls make money, I'm hot... why not?

alas, camming was a LOT more work than I was expecting, especially with a physical disability! I found out through camming that phone sex was still a thing, and got into that instead. whew! much better! I also create content to sell on several sites. that's good for passive income, which is great on bad days!

as for whether I'd recommend it... I'd say yes, but with caveats. you have to be a certain type of person: firm with boundaries, decently creative, strong stomach, resilient to negative comments and insults directed toward both your body and personality, strong sense of marketing and design (or willing to learn), and the drive to keep going even when it's slow.

what you do NOT have to be: conventionally attractive, allosexual, a nymphomaniac, non-monogamous, white, skinny, cis, big-boobed, attracted to men, completely confident with your body, a total master of everything, into every kink. of course, having some or all of these things will certainly help you (hello privilege), but ANYONE of any sex, gender, color or creed can do this! trust me: there are men attracted to EVERY type of person. and they WILL pay to get what they want (your attention/content).

so I'd say go for it if you think you'd like it, but DO. YOUR. RESEARCH. FIRST! lots of it! you're NOT going to make it big selling feet pics on onlyfans as a total newbie. you CAN make a decent (or amazing) living off of it if you have dedication, creativity, patience, and time, though!

thanks for the thorough questions! let me know if you guys have more!

[astarab1aze]

➥ CirQuet Dancer

⸻Technical Information. // Face, Voice, etc.

01. Faceclaim. Lucyna Kushinada  [ Cyberpunk: Edgerunners ] 04. Voice Claim. TBA

⸻Profile Information. // Name, Age, etc.

01. Name. Nishka Varonis 02. Alias. Neesh, Ninnie Mouse (given by Faith) 03. Sex. Female 04. Gender. Female 05. Age. 26 06. Birth Date. April 24th   [ Aries ] 07. Blood Type. Sub-type HS-WB+ 08. Race. Witch, American by nationality ; Polish-Latvian by ethnicity. 09. Marital Status. Single   [ Multiship ] 10. Orientation. Bisexual  [ Biromantic / no preference ] 11. Residence. In the same shitty apartment complex as Faith (they’re neighbors, actually!) in Salem’s Crossing, Miami, Florida ; She keeps her place as neat and as clean as possible, almost as if nobody lives there.

⸻Physical Information. // Body, Equipment, Family, etc.

17. Physical Description. Nishka has short, iridescent white hair cut into an asymmetrical bob, some illusionary hints of various colors shining through in certain lights. Her eyes are pale white with an almost-luminous white ring around each of her pupils, framed by thick black lashes. Her skin is pale, almost milky white, delicate and soft, unblemished. She stands at 5’3”, slender, petite, lean and lightly toned. She has no scars, but myriad minimalistic geometric tattoos across her back, shoulder, and collar bones, with some mechanical doll-like joint tattoos throughout her body in similar style to the others (sort of…built-in costuming), which she enhances with illusion magic in order to make them glow. She has a wide variety of tastes, but can most often be found in any odd assortment of handmade costuming, enchanted with illustrious illusion charms, and she may occasionally wear a wig depending on the vibe of the show. Salmon lip gloss, red eyeshadow, and sharply-winged eyeliner (thank you, Faith!).

13. Equipment. She doesn’t keep much on her aside from the very basics; A traveling mirror, her cellphone, wallet, keys, her howlite wand, a broom for posterity’s sake, and a change of clothes. Often, she can be seen carting around a suitcase full of costumes and outfits for the Cyber CirQuet. 14. Occupation. Technically, she has many, but the job she was actually hired for was to be a simple acrobat - it just so happened to be that she would play nearly every role in management, customer service, performance, and more. She’s a contortionist, illusionist, dancer, clown, juggler, tightrope walker, special effects specialist, HR– Working for a small-time cyber-themed circus show, Cyber CirQuet. 15. Job Performance. Highly valued, the circus would dissolve without her hard work. They would never have made it out of Salem’s Crossing to New York or Chimachi were it not for her dedication, willingness to sacrifice personal time, and ability to work a crowd. 16. Parents. She’s an orphan, raised by sectarian bloodweavers of the Sightless Eye. 17. Siblings. She considers some of the other orphans to be like siblings, but she wouldn’t say she has siblings at all.

⸻Personality Information. // Likes, Strengths, etc.

18. Likes. Performing, making people laugh, smile, or gasp in wonder, lavender and lemon, gin, periwinkle, shrinking violets, FrankenLeeches, boo berry pies, practicing her routines, spinning unique conjurations for the kids, sewing, reading fantasies, stargazing, gossiping with Faith, photography, music, lemonade, chatting up the Bearded Lady for beauty tips, night markets, building ‘bucket houses’ for dumpster fey, etc. 19. Dislikes. Bearing all of both the responsibility and the risk, making mistakes, bruised feet, scarbuncle cheese, the ‘dirty’ aspects of magic, modernist architecture, uncleanliness, dolls, bugs, Sanguinarians, snallygasters, blackwyrms, humans, daytime, popcorn, water, Salem’s Crossing, people who can’t directly answer a direct question, slime, affinities opposed to her own, cleaning up the mess after a show, eye stalks, beanstalk stew, etc.

20. Positive Traits. Friendly. Fun-loving. Hard-working. Compassionate. Flexible. Generous. Resilient. Moderate. Patient. Loyal. Mindful. Gentle. 21. Negative Traits. Proud. Unforgiving. Workaholic. Short-tempered. Stubborn. Picky. Jealous. Cynical. Impulsive. 22. Goals. To bring the Cyber CirQuet to new heights in popularity as an attraction and show, earning enough of a raise in pay she might be able to more comfortably split rent on a possible joint apartment with Faith. 23. Desires. To eventually learn about her birth parents, find some closure and peace there, where she comes from and why she was orphaned. 24. Alignment. Neutral Good

25. Personality. Nishka is somewhat socially detached despite being a bit of a butterfly, uncertain of the world around her and exposed only to illusions and elaborate lies. Other people are separate from her, at arm's length, while she painstakingly recharges her batteries, rifles through her mind on what she needs to prepare for work, what themes she's going to use, whether or not she brushed her teeth and hair, what year is it-- Somewhat scatterbrained, mostly preoccupied, and happily so, putting off her goals in an effort to distract herself from the context. She is a hard worker and often incredibly proud of her work and herself, sometimes to her detriment. She doesn't trust other people easily and will have cynical views of their (presumed) intentions, managing her (and others') expectations - she doesn't like to be proven right, and when she is, well, she can be quite unforgiving. She's lived an interesting enough life that sorta dips to one side or the other - safety and security vs chaos danger, simply put, so she knows not to put too much of her heart into something when its certain to fail, even if she's just stubborn enough to see it through to the end anyway. Ultimately, she's a complicated and somewhat contradictory woman, informed by a number of experiences, loving and good in her own ways but woefully wrapped up in her own little world.

⸻Sorcery Information. // Affinity, Talent, etc.

26. Affinity. Light, Air, some Bestial - low-level but high acuity in select spells and talents, truly above and beyond potential but an inability to apply herself. 27. Shapeshifting. Innate Sugar Glider- naturally capable of shifting into the form of a palm-sized white sugar glider with a single, almost entirely invisible stripe down her back; She cannot maintain this form for long, limited to the transformative capabilities of any low-level mage despite her blood. 28. Utility. Alteration, minor conjuration, light enhancement, Float, barriers, minor telekinesis, charms, animal speech, 29. Specialization. Neon, Prismatic, and Illusions - in combining her natural-born affinities, she’s developed the ability to harness neon gas and prismatic light, using both in conjunction with her illusions to enhance her performances. 30. Graduate School. Dogwood J. Cotton’s Vocational Sorceries - school dedicated to job sorting lower classed and academically unclaimed children into a fitting magical career choice 31. Classification. Non-Anthromorphic Hybrid - Witch & Shapeshifter ; As she is both witch and shapeshifter, she is considered a hybrid between the two, though she lacks the potency of a full-blooded shifter.

⸻Background Information. // Past to Present.

    Yaddayaddayadda working on this later (sorry)

[mauve-moonbeam]

this is a thread to remember (and carry!) the little kindness that i receive from people around me!

1. i asked a coworker how to do something. a while later, she came back to see if i still need help.

2. my friend willingly drive me around to eat together.

3. a work friend skipped a bought meal to eat out with me when she learned that i had no companion that lunch.

4. my team leader noticed me having trouble following the meeting and wrote the meeting minute for me.

5. my coworkers answered my messages about work stuff on the weekend because they knew i was on probation period, a fresh graduate, and an easily panicked person.

6. my department head negotiated with HR to get me more days off work, so that I have more time to prepare my grad school application.

7. my coworker helped me with math test relating to my grad school application (he just saw me studying and offered to help, saying that he loved math. i didn't come to him for help).

8. my coworker shared his breakfast with me when we went on a trip together. we had to leave at 4.30 am, he bought breakfast at a convenience store, asked if i ate anything, and shared with me when i said i had not.

9. my ex-coworker answered my messages asking for their advice, suggesting actionable strategies and sharing their personal experience.

10. my department head, when i was new at the job and made a mistake, instead of scolding me, told me that perhaps he didn't say it clearly so i misunderstood.

11. my friend taught me how to drive.

12. my friend made time to have dinner with me, then said it was her treat, when i told her about my failed test.

13. my friends send me youtube videos/ instagram reels/ etc. about mental health on a regular basis.

14. when i was having trouble looking for a job, my friend posted my cv on her linkedin. she didn't send me the post, or connected with me on linkedin at the time. but i found the post, and she said the nicest things about me.

15. my mom noticed me buying bánh mì from a particular shop and bought me one for breakfast, without me asking.

16. my mom noticed me stressing about a test and asked me to go on a walk in the park with her.

17. my cousin, when i told her that i failed a test, asked me if i'd like to go out for dinner.

18. my friend came to my house, took me to dinner, when i told her that i failed a test.

19. my grandmother was really invested in me being admitted to my favorite grad school and told me that she prayed for me every time she saw me.

20. my grandmother noticed me liking a snack and sent some to me.

21. my dad drove me to an event and waited to drive me home after.

22. my cousin knew i needed a new suitcase and bought me one when she saw that it was on sales.

23. my coworkers texted me good luck, early in the morning, on the day of my test.

24. my coworker checking on me, asking if i was lonely when my close work friend was absent.

25. my team leader gave me fewer tasks when i was preparing for my grad school test.

26. my coworker carried stuff for me when we ran into each other at the office exit, bought me snack when we ran into each other at the office vending machine.

27. my coworker peeled shrimp for me at another coworker's wedding.

(to be continued)

[yuki-yuki-yukimiya]

Smol introduction for me^^♡

☆|☆ [•••]

Hello, I'm Yuki nice to meet you!^^ I'm also known as Aqua-dono<3 in both GI, HSR & ZZZ and on discord as アクア•Aqua. I'm around 18, I will not tell my specific age here.

I like to draw and write lore for my OCs, that I might start posting here^^ I make my own OCs and my personas for different anime and other fandoms I fixate on atm! °[••]°

☆|☆ [•••]

English isn't my first laungage so I apologise in advanse for any spelling mistakes, even though I always try to check for them^^

☆|☆ [•••]

Characters I really like♡atm:

Jūzō Suzuya (TG)

Jōno Saigiku (BSD)

Boothill (HSR)

Nekomiya Mata (ZZZ)

Mahito (JJK)

Marin Kitagawa (My dress up darling)

Calcifer (Howl's Moving Castle)

Korekiyo Shinguji (Danganronpa)

Tsuchigomori (JSHK)

Muichiro Tokito (DS/KnY)

Soji Okita (RoR/SnV)

Mobius (HI3rd)

Sugawara Kōshi & Sakusa Kiyoomi(Haikyuu)

Ren Kaji (Wind Breaker)

Silver & Sebek Zigvolt (TWST)

The Fandoms I'm Into atm:

Bungo Stray Dogs

Jujutsu Kaisen

Record of Ragnarok/Shuumatsu no Valkyrie

Studio Ghibli

Genshin, HRS & ZZZ

Demon Slayer/Kimetsu no Yaiba

Haikyuu!!!

Twisted Wonderland

Tokyo Revengers

Oshi no Ko

My Hero Academia/Boku no Hero Akademia

Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji

My Dress Up Darling

Tokyo Ghoul

BLUE LOCK

Brand New Animal

Romantic Killer

☆|☆ [•••]

Games I Play/Plan on Playing:

[Honkai: Star Rail]

[Minecraft]

[Genshin Impact]

[Twisted Wonderland]

[Zenless Zone Zero]

[Wuthering Waves]

I'm also like a few more things (like anime, characters, etc.), that I didn't mention just now [ ..]

☆|☆ [•••]

I might be a bit awkward and shy at first, hope that's okay♡ also I will not interact with hostile/sexual/hate dms and will most likely block those.

[None of the gifs/art is mine, full credit to the rightfull owners]

[oops-prow-did-it-again]

This is what I mean when I say I love my job but it pays fucking nothing. Make no mistake, active time might be the time on a delivery, but Dash Time is the full amount of time I am busy D**rd*shing. It may include me getting ready for work or pausing for lunch, but that's all still WORK to me because I'm exclusively doing things while I work!! Even if I'm being generous and shave off an hour from my Dash Time to say I worked 4.25 hours, this is still only ~$10.25/hr, well below the minimum wage here.

I don't understand why people think it's unacceptable not to tip in a restaurant, but when i get in my own fucking car and use my own fucking gas to deliver expensive ass food to them that suddenly they don't need to tip.

I only stopped when I did today because I ran out of declines (you can only decline 1 order per hour on D**rD*sh when using earn by time) and you can only unassign so many deliveries now, bc if your completion rating falls under 90% you can be deactivated. Mine was 93% and would've dropped it an entire %, and they wanted me to go 18 fucking miles (1 way!!) to deliver something that I could almost guarantee didn't have a tip. It probably would have COST me money to deliver that order.

[dirtywratsimz]

So I walked out of my job today. I was eventually going to quit but the final nail in the coffin for me was my higher manager telling me that she wasn’t impressed with my productivity or whatever the fuck she said. I say to her, “What do you mean? I bust my ass at this place.” She just says when we were working together recently she wasn’t impressed. That was a MASSIVE blow to my ego because I take a lot of pride in my work and really legitimately care about doing things well, so yeah I was just like fuck this after working for about an hour lol.

I’m nervous about not having an income for a little while but I have two interviews coming this week, one tomorrow and one on Thursday, and I have this application sitting in my car collecting dust for a job that starts you out at $18/hr. Idk I do feel like I made a horrible mistake and I shouldn’t have done it but I also felt complete unvalued at that place. Like that’s cool, you’re unimpressed with the quality of my work. I won’t give you anything to be unimpressed about anymore lol.