#declan that's disgusting..

[declankat]

25 SMILES CHALLENGE

can you pinpoint the moments where i actually put in some effort to make it look sane as possible?

*SANE ..it's... It's supposed to say SANE.

[lastonthebrakes]

watching two teams you hate play each other is all fun and games until the team you hate a bit more wins

[jovalencia]

a plain peanut butter sandwich? ronan you are one sick son of a bitch

[jam3sacaster]

“I can’t stand to see ya’ with someone else.”

(Rivals) Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by one’s own heart @wobblybobbilyfleshybits 🩷 / Declan is wildly jealous to see you with somebody else, and he makes that very clear…

18+ FANFIC / Smut refs & gorgeously feral Declan 🥰 Reader character aged at 21. Hope you enjoy! 🫶🏽

The Rose & Crown — Rutshire’s quaintly village pub — was exquisite. Crimson red carpets, the fireplace roaring divinely in the corner and the welcoming chatter of more-than-friendly locals bouncing from the walls. Nestled in the corner, accompanied by the landlord’s slobbering bulldog, you gulped eagerly from your pint of Guinness, desperate to coax yourself into drunkenness after an atrocious day at work. “Hello, darling.” A beguiling man with a mop of silver hair bounced over, throwing himself in the seat beside you. His enchanting smile sent shivers down your spine, and you allowed him to buy you another drink whilst whispering honeyed words into your ear.

The bell of the front door jingled as Declan O’Hara entered the pub, tight-lipped and adorned in beige, as usual. You had been casually sleeping with him for a few months now, and as so, you were thoroughly aware that he drank many evenings away here — away from prying, judgemental eyes. He had sat himself at the bar, ordering a tumbler of Bell’s finest and disinterestedly flicking through today’s edition of The Scorpion. The grey fox beside you, however, told you a particularly risqué joke, making you release a wondrous cackle. Sighing in agitation, Declan slowly rose from the bar and stumbled over to your table. “Hello. Didn’t see ya’ there.” He mumbled, gulping from his glass and shooting the man beside you a villainous stare. “Hello, Declan. Take a seat.” You peep, and pat the space beside you.

Begrudgingly obliging, Declan took a seat — unknowingly subjecting himself to lascivious flirting between you and your new admirer, an overwhelming compliment here, a soft stroke of your arm there. Each motion made by the man was met from an increasingly reproving stare from Declan. “One moment, doll. Must take this.” The man excused himself, pulling his ginormous telephone from his bag and making his way outside. “Did ya’ sit me here to make me an accessory or was there a reason?” Declan spat towards you, motioning towards the barman for his fourth whiskey. “What ever could you mean?” You question with a smirk.

“Well, I’m sat watchin’ this cunt leer over ya’. Disgusting.” He added, nodding towards the barman delivering him his next drink. “I think you should make that your last. You get rather nasty when you’re drunk.” You remark bitterly. An acerbic snicker pushed from his lips as he lit a cigarette, leaning towards you, his hot breath steaming over your neck. “Ya’ have no idea how nasty I can get.” The Irishman’s voice was devilishly husky — enough to make your thighs involuntarily squeeze together. “Oh yeah? How nasty are you going to get with me, Declan?” You tease, relocating your hand to his thigh and running it dangerously close to his bulge. As your new admirer made his way back to the increasingly passionate scene, Declan muttered towards you under his breath. “I can’t stand to see you with someone else.”

“Sorry about that. Just work.” The man beamed, as you and Declan parted your lustful gazes, as though you hadn’t made conversation at all. “Anyway, doll, what’s to say you come back with me and I show you a good time?” The silver-haired man questioned, pulling at your arm and staring at Declan pompously. That was enough. “Touch her, and it’ll be the last fuckin’ thing you do.” Declan snarled, pounding his fists against the table as he stood up. Overtly threatened by Declan’s warning, the man backed away and promptly made his exit.

“What the fuck was that?” You interrogated, raising arched eyebrows to the heavens — feigning annoyance but terribly turned on by his rage. “Ya’ deserve much fuckin’ better than that.” He growled, knocking back his whiskey like a shot and stubbing out his cigarette. “Well, I wouldn’t know now, would I?” You spit, rolling your eyes. “Ya’ just fuckin’ love to tease me, I know it,” He begins, leaning into you and speaking into your ear with a seductive, hushed tone, “But I’m gonna take ya’ home and show ya’ that ya’ belong to me.”

[kidspawn]

Need a good laugh. What is your most insane TRC/TDT takes?

hello, my good friend, it is i, your local not normal about media guy! i am currently hiding in the cooler at work bc I locked myself in again. insane TRC/TDT takes? I have a few rapid fire miscellaneous ideas/headcanons for the masses that I rattle amongst the brain like a hyperactive toddler. allow me to share:

- blue gets the barbie movie. henry gets the barbie movie. it took gansey two watches to get the barbie movie and blue nearly gave up because "if you don't get it i can't help you" but by god he tried. ronan gets it but pretends he doesn't and owns an "i am kenough" fuzzy sweater he does not wear anywhere. adam did not get the barbie movie. he will not pretend to get the barbie movie. he does not care because those tickets were nearly thirty dollars so he did not see it. who the fuck is ryan gosling? noah loves it, he kind of gets it but a lot of it goes over his head. declan, like ronan, pretends not to get it but "i'm just ken" is in his spotify wrapped. matthew adores it but for the wrong reasons and he and ronan have matching fuzzy sweaters.

- ronan's nut allergy is canon. to ME. and he didn’t really register as a kid that other people weren't allergic to peanuts he thought they were all the DEATH NUT so one day when Declan really pissed him off he crushed up peanuts and put it in his dinner because kids do dumb shit like that and Declan ate it all and said he felt fine and ronan was appalled and convinced Declan was secretly microdosing on peanuts to built an immunity so he decided to do the same he started choking and nearly died but he's okay now.

- Matthew has had three concussions. one was formed halfway through healing from the second concussion. they never told him because they didn't know if he really had a normally functioning brain to have permanent damage in. sometimes he takes a little long to process information and Declan holds his breath but nothing significant as far as they can tell

- Henry canonically listens to kpop, which means he probably listens to 2nd gen kpop, which means I can say with confidence he listens to my favourite bands SHINee and BIGBANG, 2NE1, Wonder Girls. Why is this important? idk it just brings me joy.

- adam and ronan have kinks, they are aware they have kinks, they both are kind of aware the other has kinks (adam knows Ronan is into his hands, Ronan notices Adam kind of gets off on Ronan being smart they just dont talk about it) and they stumble into several dubious circumstances revolving them both being sexually repressed and unwilling to talk about their kinks theyre fine its all fine but like sometimes they'll just do things and forget safewords or to even say "hey man pls do not call me that" and its fine but also I do not see these two communicating about sex beyond "yes please" and Ronan kinda just letting Adam do what he wants with him. all well and good but also sometimes as a response Adam will ask him to take out the trash and he'll get a boner

- adam cannot cook. I have never felt more adamantly that he cannot cook. he and gansey cannot cook. however, gansey can learn. adam said, "fuck you gansey if you can read you can cook" and tried to cook and nearly burnt the Barns down and it is his deepest shame he still cannot cook meanwhile gansey can make grilled cheese and god does adam wish he could make grilled cheese as good as gansey's grilled cheese but no. Ronan thinks its hilarious and refuses to help and adam tells no one he can't cook because he sees it as a weakness.

- gansey microwaves his tea its disgusting blue groans in disgust everytime she sees it

- blue convinces Ronan to let her pierce his ears and pretends like she'll let him do hers too but she lies and gets them professionally pierced because she's worried about infection meanwhile ronan's ear swells and he has an adverse reaction and cannot sleep on his side for a month

idk if these count as insane but I DO have more and will gladly share these are rapid fire off the top of my head and I hear my manager with the keys about to let me out

[seaemberthesecond]

This is one of the most underrated parts of Dream Thieves. Just so much to unpack.

Adam's indescribable horniness for Helen's kitten heels? Like, sir? Are you okay?

IMMEDIATELY projecting said horniness onto Declan? He's not even THERE. Why's he catching strays? Foul.

It's even more foul considering it's not remotely true. Dating Helen would be Declan's personal hell. For one, she's smart, loves meddling in people's lives, and has immense resources at her disposal. Helen Gansey and her sexy sexy shoes would be his worst nightmare. Forget dating, even being in the same room as her would make Declan start to dry-heave in panic.

And SECONDLY, you know Declan is at once wildly resentful, disgusted, and bewildered by eldest siblings who aren't massively parentified. Like, what do you MEAN your life's sole purpose isn't to protect your younger brother? Sounds fake, but ok. Couldn't be me though.

[hypnopreppy]

Bad Boy to Prep

Deck leaned against the wall, puffing away on his cigarette with a nonchalant air as if the school and its rules were miles away. The morning air was crisp, but he was enveloped in a haze of smoke and indifference. Deck heard firm footsteps approaching, knowing immediately it was Mr. Thompson the school guidance counselor. Deck, barely glancing his way, sighed with annoyance, exhaling another plume of smoke.

“Declan, would you please put that out and come to my office?” Mr. Thompson asked.

Deck rolled his eyes, “It’s Deck. And yeah whatever I’ll swing by later.” He exhaled another puff.

Mr. Thompson made eye contact and stated firmly, “I meant now.”

Deck, for a split second, felt a tingle down his spine. He put out his cigarette and said “Lead the way, dude.”

Mr. Thompson motioned for Deck to sit in the seat across from his desk. Deck slumped down, not wanting to be here any longer than he needed to be. Mr. Thompson took his seat at his neatly organized desk. 

“Thank you for joining me Declan,” Mr. Thompson began.

“Not like I had a choice. And it’s Deck.” Deck said curtly.

“Right. ‘Deck.��” Mr. Thompson said hesitantly, “I wanted to talk to you about some things.”

Deck sighed, “Get on with it.”

“You need to stop smoking, Deck. It’s bad for your health. You also need to start dressing better and acting appropriately.” Mr. Thompson replied.

“Fuck that. This is who I am.” Deck said.

Mr. Thompson made direct eye contact with Deck, “Do not curse.”

With another slight shiver down his spine, Deck responded, “Okay.”

Deck felt weird. After Mr. Thompson told him not to curse, it’s like he suddenly was not able to. He couldn’t even think of a curse word. Deck brushed the weird feeling away and asked,

“So what do you want me to do about it?”

Mr. Thompson cracked a small smile. He made direct eye contact with Deck and said, “Start by using your real name. You are not ‘Deck’, you are Declan.”

“... I am Declan,” Declan mumbled. For a split second he could’ve sworn he got another weird feeling...

“You think you can do that Deck?” Mr. Thompson interrupted his thoughts.

“It's Declan, I don’t go by ‘Deck’. And do what?” Declan replied.

Smiling Mr. Thompson, made direct eye contact once again and said, “You need to change your clothes. You hate being unkempt and dirty.”

Before he could process the weird feeling, Declan stood up and looked down at his clothes with disgust.

“What am I wearing?” Declan exclaimed. “Dude, do you have a change of clothes? These are awful!”

Mr. Thompson, making eye contact with him said, “I do. You will wear them. They feel perfectly correct.”

Declan nodded and immediately grabbed the clothes. Not caring for Mr. Thompson’s presence, he immediately stripped to his underwear. He immediately began to put on the pastel polo shirt. He felt the comfort of the collar on his neck and thought, wow this feels great! 

Following the polo, he pulled up the khaki shorts and absent mindedly tucked his shirt in. Mr. Thompson also provided new shoes too, boat shoes that he quickly put on.

“These clothes are so much better. Uh, thanks man.” Declan said to Mr. Thompson.

Mr. Thompson looked into his eyes, “You speak respectfully and eloquently.”

Declan paused for a second and responded, “Thank you, sir. I greatly appreciate your generosity.”

“You’re welcome Declan. You are a changed man. Respectable for society.” Mr. Thompson continued looking into his eyes.

“Yeah… respectable…” Declan trailed off.

“Declan. You need a better haircut, one suitable for a preppy like yourself. Allow me to provide it.” Mr. Thompson continued.

Declan let the words register before saying, “Mr. Thompson, would you be so obliged to provide me with a haircut suitable for me?”

Mr. Thompson nodded and pulled out a set of clippers from his desk. He began to make quick work of “Deck’s” hair, crafting a preppy hairstyle for Declan.

Declan stood proudly, now sporting a preppy hairstyle. Mr. Thompson beamed at his work of art. Mr. Thompson enjoyed “guiding” students to become better versions of themselves.

“Declan,” Mr. Thompson made eye contact, “You have always been a good preppy boy. You are respectful and do no wrong. Off to class.”

Declan smiled, “Thank you, Mr. Thompson. Your words are truly meaningful. Have a good day!”

[lizpaige]

What are the odds you’d write Declan walking in on Ronan and Adam during sexy time…? 👀

The odds are good. Here you go. ✌️ ⚠️ nsfw obv

Declan parked beside Adam's monstrosity of a vehicle in the driveway at the Barns. He hadn’t planned on coming back today. He and Matthew had been on the road heading back to DC after their ritual of brotherly truce on Sunday when Matthew remembered he forgot his backpack at the farmhouse. They were already halfway there when Declan had to take a deep breath and turn around.

“I’ll be one sec!” Matthew said in his sunshine, everything’s cool, man! kind of way. Declan clenched his fists around the leather steering wheel. He didn’t want to spend another hour of Matthew getting distracted in his goodbyes.

“Stay, I’ll get it.” 

“But…”

“In the living room, right?” Declan already heaved himself out of the car, leaving the key in the ignition, and the car running. His posture rigid, his jaw tight, he made his way up the steps. In the entryway of the Barns was a small hallway. To the right was the kitchen with a large arch-shaped doorless frame. To the left was the living room with a similar wide frame, but with glass framed double doors, one open, one shut.

He hoped to be in and out without even having to acknowledge his brother. Maybe they were out in the fields somewhere or maybe in one of the barns. Maybe God would spare him.

Or not.

One foot into the doorway of the living room, he heard a gasp from the kitchen. Instinctually–stupid, stupid–he turned and froze. The first thing he saw was Ronan on his knees, he was still in his church suit, dress pants wrinkled against the tile floor, his back facing the doorway. In front of him, leaning back against the kitchen counter, face flushed, eyes closed, mouth wet and open, was Adam.

Declan couldn’t look away. His entire body flushed, a cool sweat settling at the back of his neck. His heart raced, his palms sweaty, his mind a flurry of ways to escape, interrupted by focused flashes of Adam’s tongue darting out to wet his lips, his hands grappling for stability on the counter behind him, his moan and the goddamn pornographic wet noises ricocheting off the crown moulding. He was hard.

Adam hissed and tugged at Ronan’s tie to loosen it or tighten it, Declan was too far away to tell, but he kept watching. His hands were shaking, but he kept them at his sides, his breath shallow and thin, not wanting to make a sound. Not wanting it to be over.

From this angle, Ronan nearly looked like Declan. Similar church suits made most men unrecognizable, especially from behind. It was easy for his mind to separate the two, to hear Ronan’s whimpering moans and to insert himself into his place. A fantasy playing out in front of him. He’d never really thought of Adam in this way, although he couldn’t say he’d never acknowledged his attractiveness. It was obvious and all Lynch brothers could appreciate beauty when they saw it.

Adam’s lips curled in a sort of lazy smile. “Fuck.” He leaned his head back and sent that curse up to heaven like it was a prayer. He curled his hand around the base of Ronan’s skull, pulling him in closer so Ronan was nestled against him, choking on him. Declan shivered.

He watched Adam’s head tilt down, lips moving, but unable to hear his words. His eyes blinked open lazily, his mouth open in a silent moan as he finally lifted his head and looked across the kitchen, through the doorway, directly at Declan. 

It wasn't a look of surprise or disgust or anything that Declan could anticipate. Instead Adam’s eyelids were heavy, but his gaze locked on Declan, drifting down to the tightness in his church suit pants, and back up to his eyes. Adam licked his lips and smiled.

[ask-spit]

he wasnt supposed to be here. not like this. not with dirt under his nails and death in his throat, prying into a grave that shouldve stayed shut. this wasnt loyalty. this was something feral. something broken. a desperate, pathetic betrayal dressed in grief.

the cemetery was still. too still. the kind of silence that presses against your ears like pressure at the bottom of the ocean. but inside declan, a storm raged. his lungs couldnt catch enough air. his heart hammered like it wanted out of his ribcage. like it knew this was wrong. disgusting.

around him, graves slept in peace. but not this one. not his. not the man buried under his shoes. the one who had taken bullets at his side, laughed with blood in his mouth, cried when no one else was looking. this grave should have been sacred. instead, declan was ripping it open with shaking hands and a rusted shovel.

when metal struck wood, it sounded like a scream. hollow. final. he couldnt turn back now. his knees buckled and he dropped. clawing at the dirt with bare hands. wet earth packed under his fingernails, filled the creases in his palms. his skin tore, bleeding and raw. he didnt stop. couldnt. not until the coffin was cracked wide open like a wound.

the stench hit first. rot and iron. it punched him in the gut, bile surging up his throat. he wanted to slap a hand over his eyes, his mouth. act like he wasnt the one responsible. but he didnt look away. couldnt. he stared at what was left of his brother in arms. sunken, twisted, eaten by time. declans fingers trembled as they moved, inching towards the corpse in tattered clothes. slow and blind, his hands slipped beneath the cloth. then, grasped cold metal. the dog tag. still there. still his.

he gripped it hard, like it might anchor him. like it could rewind time and bring breath back to punctured lungs. he pressed it to his chest and felt nothing but his own heartbeat under the palm of his hand. frantic, guilt-ridden, alive. but this? this wasnt closure. this wasnt a twisted way of remembrance and honor. this was desecration. and still, he held on.

the shame came in waves: scalding, relentless. it crawled beneath his skin like fire ants, hollowed out his gut until all that was left was the husk of the man he used to be. a man who had honor. a man who still had a heart. a man who didnt dig up his dead. vomit tore from his throat like tides, acid stinging at his teeth and gums. he was sick. body and mind.

the grief was louder. greedier. it howled through his bones, snarled against reason, tore apart what was left of restraint. he told himself it was for legacy. for memory. for the fallen soldier. but it wasnt. it was for himself. it always had been. he knew he was being selfish deep down. but he couldnt bring himself to care. atleast, not with the adrenaline pumping in his veins like the newest drug. if he keeps the memory of the man, someone will return the favor. right?

declan closed the coffin with hands that wouldnt stop shaking. started burying it again with a mind too numb to feel. every shoveled clump of earth was an attempt to drown out what he did. silence the corpse six feet under. he patted the dirt, solidifying it once more.

mud clung to his skin. cold gnawed at his bones. and the silence. that silence. it wrapped around him like a noose. no forgiveness. no peace. just weight. by the time he stood, he had dirt staining his clothes. vomit staining his lips. an unspoken apology staining his heart and mind. the only thing he had to show was the dog tag clenched tight in his fist. he knew nothing had been healed. nothing had been made right. now, it was only heavier. only worse. and it would stay like that. forever.

[wereoz]

i think declan touching doyle’s hand and saying ‘i remember you…’ and doyle responding ‘i’m sorry’ was the perfect way to end the emily & doyle & declan arc. it’s the perfect way to show that in a horrible, dysfunctional way they were a family (forced to be!!) and even though emily and doyle wanted each other dead and declan lives without both of them, a little bit of each other will live in all of them forever. honestly including this in the same ep where it’s revealed declan was born through doyle keeping his mother captive to force her to give birth, and emily’s disgust at that really makes this arc more powerful and tragic. like - she had to live with that man and make loving him believable. she had to believe 100% she was in love for him for this to work, not to mention she was further trapped by actually caring for declan and wanting to know he was okay. it’s a painful, confusing situation with no good outcome. if it’s not believable, you die and compromise the operation. if you believe it, you compromise your morality and identity and when everything ends you feel as though you’ve destroyed your home, your family. emily was left feeling so empty. god <//3

[byyourside28]

Body Shots

Summary: Your boyfriend, Matty, and his friends are doing body shots off of you, and let's just say things take a turn.

Warnings: Smut (Dom matty, sexual tension/action with George and Charli, use of a vibrator, blindfold, dirty talk, unprotected sex. lmk if I missed any)

WC: 7.6K

The music rumbles beneath our feet, and I hear voices echoing around us. Matty’s hand stays in mine even as we finally reach the club’s main floor, and I can’t help but notice as he subtly tightens his grip at the sight in front of him.

The lighting was low, as usual. Matty and I spotted many familiar faces around the room in the crowded room. Declan, my best friend, was behind the counter pouring shot after shot of drinks at the bar while everyone else was too caught up in conversation to notice our arrival.

“Angel baby… I thought we agreed to a low-key night?” He whispers against the shell of my ear, his hand finally releasing my hand, only to trail up my arm. 

“Hmm…I decided not to listen.” I hum back in response, leaning into his touch momentarily before pulling away just as George's head snapped towards us. 

George jumps into action, hopping off the stool and racing towards us. “Matthew and Stormi.” He sings Matty’s name and my nickname loudly, the alcohol evident in his slightly slurred words. 

“Couldn’t wait for me to start drinking? Fuckin’ bullshit, mate.” Matty laughs, smiling easily at our friend and returning his hug.

George shrugs lazily, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek and pulls Matty away from me by the shoulder, whispering something in his ear that I couldn’t hear over the booming music. Two pairs of familiar eyes land on me just as Matty and George approach them, both men peering over their shoulders with wide smiles. 

Declan beckons me over, a shot glass in his hand as an offer, and I roll my eyes with a smile, joining him at the bar. 

“Hiya, babes. You look stunning tonight. Matty too,” Declan shouts across the bar, his own eyes bright with amusement. “Who are the other guys, though? Don’t think I’ve seen them in here before.” 

His chin juts towards the two men, all of them now deep in conversation with Matty and George. They’re exchanging genuine hugs, and Ross’s laughter echoes over the others and the music. 

“De, The rest of 75? You should know this by now.” I laugh, glancing over my shoulder again to find Matty’s eyes already on me. 

I roll my eyes when I see a girl trying to get Matty’s attention, her stupid fucking face smug as she winks at me. “And it begins.” I groan to Declan, his own face mirroring mine as it distorts into disgust. 

He raises his eyebrows at the girl as she looks back at us with a bored expression. “Can I help you?!" He shouts, everyone’s eyes turning in our direction. 

“Angel!” Matty shouts, jerking his head for me to join the small group.

“Wish me luck,” I groan, keeping my eyes off the girl who is now trying to get Adam’s attention. But she fails and storms off. Matty’s arm wraps around my shoulders just as I near them, unhesitatingly pulling me into his side as I greet Ross and Adam.

Ross’s grin is wide as he takes a swig from his drink, his eyes flickering down my body before returning to my face. “Stormi, what have I told ya about lookin' so goddamn pretty all the time?”

I chuckle, shaking my head at the compliment as I lean closer to Matty. His grip tightens on my shoulder possessively, and I can’t help but revel in the attention. “You’re just saying that because you’re drunk, Ross.”

“Hey, I’m not that drunk. Plus, it’s true,” Ross shrugs, taking another sip from his glass.

Adam chimes in with a grin, pulling me into a quick hug. “You look gorgeous, Stormi. As always.” I feel my cheeks heat up, but Matty’s voice cuts in before I can respond. “She’s mine, lads.”

Everyone laughs at his possessiveness, but I can tell that he means it. His arm stays firmly around my shoulders, and I lean into his side contentedly.

“Yeah, but George had her first.” Adam jokes, earning a playful punch in the arm from George.

“We were fifteen!” George groans, but his laughter betrays his annoyance.

Matty rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth turn up in a small smile. “Fuckk off, Hann.”

I feel a warm feeling spread through my chest, and I glance up at Matty to find him looking down at me with a soft expression. The group continues to laugh and joke around until two hands wrap around George's waist, “About time you show up!” He exclaims. “This is Charli.”

I turn to face Charli, meeting her gaze with a smile. “Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Y/n but everyone calls me Stormi.” I say warmly.

“You look fantastic.” She smiles warmly at me, looking at my all-black outfit: A see-through blouse that ties in the center of my breasts, exposing the part of my abdomen. A striped mini skirt, reaching just below the tops of my thighs.

“She’s prettier than you said, Matty.” She teases, laughing when Matty scoffs and shakes his head, seemingly embarrassed.

“Oh, really?” I joke, nudging Matty’s hip with my own. “Fuckin' hell, G. Can't believe you were able to pull Ms.xcx.”

The guys and Charli chuckle as George shoots them a playful glare while securely embracing her with his toned arm.

We all continue to chat, taking turns downing shots and catching up on each other's lives. The music is pounding, and the heat of the bodies around us makes the air feel thick with anticipation. I can feel Matty's hand on the small of my back, leading me effortlessly around the dance floor as we move to the beat.

Charli and I form a quick bond, chatting and laughing together as though we’ve known each other for years. The guys are all in good spirits, their laughter and jokes filling the room alongside the music.

As the night wears on, I can feel the alcohol taking its toll on everyone. “Drunk men are just grown toddlers; you can’t convince me otherwise.” I laugh, sipping on the whiskey in my glass. 

As if on cue, Matty is bringing his face dangerously close to a sparkler that George is holding and lighting it, Adam and Ross laughing in sync like children. 

“What’re you drinking? I can smell it from here.” Charli ponders, craning her neck to look at the amber liquor in my glass. 

“Crown apple with some kind of vanilla liqueur. Declan makes it solely for me, and calls it the ‘In the eye of Stormi’. Wanna try it?” I offer, holding the glass out to her empty hands. 

I turn my attention back to Matty when she takes the glass from me, his eyes already on mine with a smile on his lips.

Charli hums in appreciation of the drink, handing it back to me as Matty ushers me to the DJ booth with his pointer finger. “Oh God, let’s go see what they want.” I laugh, setting the glass down, hooking my arm into Charli’s, and dragging her along with me.

We weave through the crowd, the bass pounding in my chest as we reach the DJ booth. Charli immediately begins talking to G, Adam and Ross. I feel Matty's arm wrap around my waist as he speaks into my ear.

“Thought you’d like to know, that girl you were glaring at earlier left with her tail between her legs when she realized she didn’t stand a chance,” He murmurs, his breath hot against my neck.

I turn to look at him, my heart pounding in my chest. Matty’s eyes are dark and smouldering, and his lips parted slightly as he looks down at me hungrily. I can feel his body pressing against mine, and my breath catches in my throat.

“That was ages ago, and I wasn’t glaring,” I protest weakly, biting my lip as his lips brush against my ear.

“Sure you weren’t,” He murmurs, his hand sliding down my back and landing on my hip. I shiver at his words, feeling a rush of excitement pool low in my belly. The possessive edge to his voice sends a thrill through me, and I turn my head to look up at him, my lips curving into a small smirk. “I wasn’t glaring,” I stated again, even though we both knew it was a lie.

Matty’s eyes glint with amusement, and he leans down to capture my lips in a heated, possessive kiss. I revel in the feel of his body pressed against mine, the taste of wine on his tongue as he deepens the kiss.

I moan softly against his mouth, my fingers tangling in his hair as he pulls me closer. We’re lost in our own world, the music and chatter of the party fading into the background as we explore each other, our bodies pressed together in a haze of desire.

When we finally break apart, I can hear Charli and the guys whooping in the background, but I couldn't care less. All that matters is how Matty looks at me, his eyes burning with need.

“C'mon babes, I need a drink.” Charli said, breaking my gaze from Matty. My cheeks burn with embarrassment, and I turn to see the boys all clapping and cheering us on.

“Wow, guys. You’re really goin’ for it,” Ross teases, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

I shove Matty playfully as he grabs my ass but can't keep the smile off my face. “Shut up, Ross.”

Adam laughs, throwing an arm around Matty’s shoulders. “It was proper disgusting, mate. I think I need to cleanse my eyes.”

Matty rolls his eyes, his hand still resting on my hip possessively. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, Hann.”

George laughs loudly, “He’s not the only one jealous, mate. I think we all are.”

Charli chuckles, her eyes flickering between the two of us. “You guys are pretty cute together.”

I feel Matty's grip tighten on me, and he shoots her a quick smile. “I know.”

I gradually free myself from his grip and turn to Charli, who extends her hand toward me as we leave the DJ booth and head towards the bar.

“God, look at them!” Charli laughs and lets go of my hand. We come to a halt in the middle of the dance floor.

I follow Charli’s line of sight; George is throwing Matty over his shoulder and shouting incoherently, running around the stage drunkenly. Matty is punching his back, cursing for him to put him down while Adam chases them, attempting to help. Ross is just standing there, doubled over in laughter and pointing at the three of them. 

“Fucking toddlers, I swear.” I laugh, grabbing Charli's hand to pull her through the crowd. 

Declan is already watching us as we make our way up to the bar, his eyes dancing with delight at the sight of Charli. I giggle, knowing he is a huge fan of hers and probably shitting himself.

Declan makes his way over to us almost instantly, as we both sit on a stool and a glass of the ‘in the eye of Stormi’ placed in front of me, “Sorry, didn’t know what you’d like, babe. What can I get you?” He directs his question to Charli, an animating expression on his face. 

“Oh, you know what would be fun? Body shots!” She shouts, bouncing in her seat. “C'mon, Stormi, do it with me!”

“Yeah, c'mon on, Stormi. It’d be hot as fuck.” I turn to find Ross stumbling his way over to us; his skin tinted red from the alcohol. 

“God, Where did you come from?” I chuckle as Ross winks at me.

The three of them start cheering me on, and I groan dramatically, laughing before standing from the stool and nodding in agreement. Ross automatically offers his hand to help me onto the bar, and I lay flat, patiently waiting for Declan to get the needed ingredients. 

Matty, George and Adam are now making their way over to us, all of their expressions the same as they question what is going on.

As soon as Declan pulls my skirt a little lower and starts pouring the tequila into my now-exposed navel, Matty’s brows raise, and George stumbles into Adam’s body. My body shivers as the cool liquor spills over my stomach, but it’s quickly gone when I focus on the feeling of Charli sprinkling salt along my exposed cleavage. 

“Open up.” Charli instructs with a smirk, holding the lime edge between her fingers over my mouth. I do as she says, holding the citrus in my mouth carefully.

Her hair tickles my stomach as she leans down, sucking up the alcohol, and I flick my eyes around the people around me. Ross is astonished, eyes wide as he watches our every move.

I can’t help but laugh as Charli’s tongue darts between my cleavage, licking up the salt slowly. Matty and George stare at us, their bodies tense as they repeatedly smack one another in disbelief. 

Adam's eyes look at us and then force them away, only to look back with turmoil. “Why the fuck is this kinda hot?”

I almost choke on the lime with a laugh as Charli lowers her mouth to mine, Ross smacking Adam’s shoulder reassuringly. “Shut up! Enjoy the show.” Everyone cheers around us as she pulls the lime from my lips, triumphantly standing back up straight with it between her teeth. Charli sucks on the fruit for a moment before spitting it down onto the bar beside me, offering me a helping hand as I sit up. I’m stunned for a moment when she pushes her mouth on me, the taste of the body shot erupting on my taste buds as her tongue darts out against mine. 

“Fuck yeah!” Ross shouts as our lips move together languidly, and we laugh, pulling apart from one another. 

“Told ya that’d be fun.” Charli winks at me, helping me hop off the bar before making her way to George, having to snap in his face a few times to break his trance. 

Matty is suddenly in front of me, his hands gripping my waist as he pulls me towards him. His eyes are dark with desire as he dips his head down to capture my lips in a heated kiss.

I can feel the heat radiating off his body as he presses against me, and I can't help but moan into his mouth. His hand slides down to the curve of my hip, his fingers trailing fire along my skin.

I cling to him as he deepens the kiss, our bodies pressed together in a frenzy of desire. The room fades away until it's just the two of us lost in our passion, the alcohol and the salty taste on my tongue only adding to the craving that burns inside me.

Finally, we break apart, gasping for air. Matty looks down at me with a hungry expression, his hand sliding up to cup my cheek.

“You're mine,” he growls possessively, and I can feel the desire burning in his gaze.

The rest of the night is hazy and blurry, a haze of whispered promises and drunken laughter. We all stumble out of the club and into cabs while Matty and George argue over who could do a body shot faster.

I giggle, my head spinning from the alcohol as I lean into Matty's side. I glance at Charli, who is laughing with Ross as they poke fun at Adam, who is already passed out as we pull away from the club.

The ride is filled with the sound of our friends' drunken laughter and the quiet hum of the car engine. I let myself get lost in the sensation of Matty's arm around my waist, his hand warm against my skin.

Before I know it, we pull up outside Matty's house, and he helps me out of the car. We all stumble on the footpath towards the front door, still giggling like children as Adam stumbles behind us, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Matty fumbles for his keys, his hand shaking slightly from the alcohol, and finally manages to unlock the door. We all pile into the house, and Matty turns to me with a wicked grin.

The marble countertop is cold against my bare back as I lay back, the ceiling slightly spinning as I stare up at the tiles and the music blaring loudly. “You ready, Angel?” Matty rasps at my ear, my head turning to the side to face him. 

He has a mischievous glint in his eyes, clouded by the amount of alcohol in his system, but it’s unmistakable. I nod my head yes and suck in a deep breath, looking back directly above me. 

George is on the other side of me, smirking down at me with almost just as much teasing crossing his features. My body jerks when I feel the cold shot glasses sit on my stomach carefully, and George is suddenly at my other ear, chuckling wickedly. “Don’t be scared, darlin’. We both know you’ve been dying for my tongue on you again, haven’t you?”

Before I can open my mouth to respond, Matty is gripping George’s shirt and pulling him away from me with a warning expression carved onto his features. 

Two lines of salt are poured on my torso, following the curve of my breasts and over my bra, stopping at the base of my neck finally. 

I glance over at Charli, who is watching with excitement in her eyes, and when she catches my gaze, she throws me a seductive smirk. I hold back my laugh when she mouths, "I’m next", and winks at me in hopes of not spilling the tequila sitting on my stomach. 

“Open up, Angel.” Matty orders, grabbing my attention again. When I look back up to him, he’s holding the slice of lime near my lips. 

I take the fruit between my teeth and smile at both boys, nearly choking on it when George rasps a low "good girl" at me.

How the hell did I get here? Why did I agree to this?

Matty curses under his breath and looks like he wants to murder George, but he takes a stabilizing breath and stands up straight, jerking his head for George to do the same. 

“I can’t fuckin’ watch this.” Adam announces dramatically, throwing his arms up in the air before storming to the living room. It only takes about two seconds before he’s poking his head back out into the kitchen and looks at Ross expectantly. “Get the hell in here, mate.” 

Ross literally pouts his bottom lip and flicks his eyes between Adam and me, sighing when he sees Adamis ready to physically drag him away if needed. I can’t help but cackle loudly at Ross’s face. Matty and George’s hands quickly grasp onto their glasses, holding them in place until I’ve calmed down enough to hold steady. 

“I think Adam is right, Charli…” Ross mutters, his eyes glazing over as he watches us closely. “Maybe we shouldn’t watch this.”

“Fuck that, I’m staying.” She declares immediately, waving her hand towards the hall where Adam disappeared. “You’re right, though. You don’t get to watch—go have fun with Hann.” Ross almost trips over his own feet as he stumbles out of the kitchen and down the hall, his eyes only leaving me once he’s entirely out of sight. 

Matty sighs harshly and looks back at Charli. “Are we done with the interruptions? I’d like to get this over with.”

“What’s the matter, Matty? Gettin’ nervous that I might be better than you, huh?” George taunts, cocking his head to the side with a slight smirk. 

Matty responds with a humourless chuckle, which has my thighs clenching at the vibrato. “Are you forgetting who she’s with, G? You can only dream of being better than me.” Matty scoffs, his hand coming up to dance along my exposed thigh that’s closest to him. 

“Are you forgetting that I’ve fucked her too? I could show how where, if you’d like.” George counters, a raise of his brow. 

“Shut the fuck up and get ready.” Matty demands, and George smirks but listens, bending down at his torso until I can feel his breath fan across my abdomen. 

I squirm under their mouths, both out of excitement and nerves. 

“Now.” George says hastily, both of them shooting back the alcohol in one gulp. Their mouths were suddenly on my skin, and I gasped as their tongues glided up my abdomen, licking every inch of salt they could reach. 

The warmth of their breaths contrasts the coolness of their tongues, the alcohol lingering in their mouths. They lick me slowly, and each time they move, they leave behind a burning sensation as I moan loudly, my entire body shuddering.

Matty groans lowly, tugging the strap off my shoulder as his lips move down my torso slowly, kissing his way down my right breast. I arch my back, trying desperately to get closer to him, moaning louder at the feeling of his tongue against my nipple as he licks it gently.

George came up to my lips and sucked on the flesh of the lime, then pulled it out with his teeth. He took the lime out of his mouth but was still hovering over me, staring at my lips. He licked his own lips hungrily, leaning in even more, closing the gap between our lips.

“Wait.” Matty murmurs, pulling George’s head back with a firm grip on his neck. George whines loudly at the loss of contact, and Matty grins wickedly down at me. His eyes flash from me to George, and I can tell he’s contemplating what to do next.

If Matty decides to kiss George, I’m gonna have trouble keeping myself from jumping him. But before any of that happens, I direct my eyes to Charli; she stares at me silently, biting her lower lip while her fingers play with the hem of her dress. Her face is flushed, and she bites down so hard on her lip it looks like her bottom lip might bleed. 

I can see the desire dancing in her brown eyes as well. I bite down hard on mine, and Matty looks back down at me, his eyes searching my face and my eyes darting between both him and Charli.

If he notices anything, however, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he pulls George forward again with a harsh push on his neck, bringing Goerge’s mouth to mine.

His mouth moves quickly over mine, pushing my back further against the countertop as George grabs fistfuls of my hair. The taste of beer and tequila coats my tongue instantly. My body buzzes with pleasure, and I gasp for air when Matty starts sucking on my neck.

I push George’s face back, breathing heavily, my heart racing in my chest. Matty keeps kissing up my throat, his warm breath causing goosebumps to form across my skin. He leans back and trails kisses along my jaw, stopping inches from my lips.

My body twitches, begging for the kiss Matty will give me. I’m desperate to feel his lips touch mine. But, he leans back slightly with a smug grin, resting his hand against my cheek gently, his eyes glancing down at my lips.

“Only I get to have you tonight.” His voice is soft and husky, filled with a possessiveness I’ve never heard from him before. His thumb strokes across my cheek lightly, the action sending a wave of shivers through my body.

I can feel my cheeks flush at his words, and I can only nod in agreement. Matty grins, leaning in and finally pressing his lips to mine. This kiss is soft and gentle, lingering as if it were our first. When he pulls away, his eyes are filled with a longing that mirrors my own.

Matty releases George from his grip, and the two of them stumble back, laughing at their own jokes as if nothing had just happened. I watch as Charli steps forward, her fingers reaching out for me as I sit up.

“Are you alright, babe?” She asks. I nod, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. Charli grins and hugs me, wrapping her arms around my waist. She held me tightly, lifted my chin with her fingers, and then kissed me fiercely. It was hungry, passionate, and exploratory.

Her tongue swept through my mouth. I could feel the tip of it go past my lips and stroke the inside of my teeth. It was as if she were breathing life into me.

An iron grip clamped around my hair and yanked me away from her alluring lips. “What did I just tell you?” Matty asks sternly, his eyes burning into mine.

Charli pulls away with a gasp and stares at Matty, whose voice is level with a hint of warning in it. “Don't forget who she belongs to,” he says with a smirk, his thumb stroking the side of my face. Charli and I stayed still, I immediately forgot about the kiss, and I nodded in response.

Charli puts her hands up in submission and smiles innocently. “Why can't we share, Matty?” she inquires as George comes up from behind and encloses her in his embrace, a mischievous smirk spread across his face. 

Matty glares at her before turning his eyes back to me. He sighs heavily and runs his hands through his hair, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He steps around the island and pulls me close, pressing his forehead against mine.

“You belong to me.” He whispers before kissing me softly on the lips. His kiss lingers, and his grip tightens until I'm sure I'm going to faint.

He pulls away, his eyes still blazing. He looks back at Charli and smirks. “You can have her after I'm done…maybe.”

Charli's jaw drops slightly, her cheeks flushing red, but she nods obediently. Matty turns to face me, his hand on my waist as he quickly pulls me from the island. I struggle to keep up with his long strides, and Matty doesn’t seem to want to wait on me as he turns and flings me over his shoulders, bounding up the stairs with intent. 

The faces of our friends bounce around my sight with each step he takes, and I manage to throw up a parting wave to them, smiling boldly as they both laugh. As we reach the top of the stairs, Matty forcefully pushes the door to his bedroom open and sets me down on my feet.

His lips press against mine, his tongue parting my lips and sliding into my mouth. He kisses me fiercely, with passion pouring from every touch of his hand on my waist to the weight of his body, which crushes me against him. When he pulls away, he looks down at me with a mischievous smirk and a twinkle in his eye.

“Don't forget,” he says, his voice growing more serious with each spoken word. “You belong to me, Stormi. Always and forever.” Goosebumps rise on my arms as he runs his hands down my body. 

“I belong to you.” I whisper, pressing my lips to his once again.

The second my bra is off, my fingers are yanking at his shirt, and his hands are feverishly unzipping my skirt. Matty’s eyes are hazy and look downright bloodshot, and I find myself even more attracted to him in this state. I love it when he has more than a few drinks—he gets raunchier and more demanding.

Drunk Matty is my favorite Matty.

He pulls away from my lips, his gaze running up and down my body which was now only covered by a delicate lace; I could feel the heat of his stare burning through the fabric.

“Take them off and sit on the bed.” he orders, his voice gritty as he juts his chin towards the mattress. 

I take hold of the slim band around my waist, inching it downwards as Matty steps forward. “Faster.” He says, his gaze dropping to the skin that is now visible.

I make a show of sliding them down, letting the fabric free fall down my legs before stepping out of them and sitting on the bed. His low hum of approval causes a spark of pleasure to run up my spine.

"Good girl." Matty's voice is a throaty growl as he steps closer, “Open your legs. Wanna see that pretty pussy.” His voice drops an octave, and his eyes fixated on where I have my knees pressed tightly together.  

He stares hungrily as I part my thighs, leaning back onto my hands to give him an unobstructed view. “Like this?” I ask in a sultry voice, biting down on my lower lip when I catch him swallowing hard.

Matty strides forward, closing the gap between us. His lips eagerly seek mine as he moves closer, and I let out a soft moan that he eagerly takes in. My hands reach out to grasp the bulge beneath his boxers, and he responds with a muffled moan.

“Beautiful.” He whispers, finally pulling away from my lips, his eyes still trained on the place between my legs. “I can’t wait to be inside you.”

I’m caught off guard when Matty pulls away and shoves me back, my hair flying over my face with a bounce on the mattress. “Raise your arms above your head.” he orders. 

A thrill runs through me as I eagerly raise my arms, my eyes glued to Matty as he lowers himself to me, and I gasp as he pushes his hips between mine, his hands sliding up my body, cupping my breasts and harshly pinching my hardened nipples.

“Fucking hell,” I moan, gripping at his side. He roughly grabs my wrist and jerks it above my head. 

“You do not move, understand?” Matty cocks his head to the side slightly, his eyes drilling into mine from above.

I give him a small nod of understanding, and he crawls off the bed and away from me. His toned back muscles ripple with each step he takes away, causing me to clench my legs together involuntarily.

He whips his head around to look at me, catching me writhing. “I told you not to move, Stormi. Spread 'em now.”  I slowly open my legs, revealing myself completely to him. His gaze travels down my body, and I catch his breath hitch in the back of his throat.

“Tell me, Angel...Did you like Charli and George touching you?” He mutters, turning back to his closet while rummaging through it for something. My lips remain in a tight line when Matty turns back to me, “We both know you did, Stormi. No point in staying quiet now.” he says with an amused smirk as I hesitate.

“Yes.” I finally whisper, barely audible. His smirk turns devious as he steps towards me, slipping the tie over my eyes and tying it behind my head.

“This okay?” He clarifies, and I nod. My vision is overcome by darkness, and I strain my ears to listen for the movement of him standing up from the bed. The mattress dips slightly as he rises.

My body twitches as his fingertips lightly graze my collarbone, gradually dipping lower and swirling in a circle around the shape of my chest. I feel their warmth as he traces them over my breasts.

A gasp leaves my lips when his fingers dip between my parted thighs, dragging them slowly through my folds before applying pressure to my swollen clit. The loss of vision, my hearing has perked up, and I hear how he sucks a breath between his teeth when he feels how wet I already am for him.

“Pathetic that you are this wet when I haven't even done anything.” he whispers, leaning over my body and ghosting his lips over mine. “Do you wish it was them touching you instead of me?” 

“No.” I say instantly.

“Good.” He smirks against my lips before crashing them against mine, his tongue pushing its way into my mouth. His finger rubs circles against my clit in the same rhythm that his tongue is dancing around mine, and it’s taking all my self-control not to pull his hair, to plead for more.

Moving wouldn’t be the wisest choice.

I can feel how hard he is, pressed against my leg as he rocks his hips a bit to gain some friction. “Please, Matty.” I beg, for what- I’m not sure.

“What is it, Angel? Tell me what you need.” He groans between urgent kisses as his finger finds its way into me. His touch is not soft and tender. It’s rough and insistent, only stopping once he’s reached the depth of his knuckle. “Fuck. You’re so tight. Let me take care of you, yeah?” 

“More of you. Please.” I beg, my own voice foreign to my ears.

Matty adds a second finger and circles my clit with his thumb. “There ya go, does that feel good?”

My hips buck up as he speeds up, begging for more pressure, for him to be deeper- anything. “Remember what I said,” Matty hums before removing himself completely from me, a whimper falling past my lips, and I hear the side table drawer open.

My head snaps downward when I feel the bed dip and his smooth hands, save for the calluses on his fingertips, touch both of my calves. “Now remember, Angel. You’re going to be a good girl and not move- and if you do, I will stop.”

I nod at him as Matty spreads my legs slowly, teasing every inch of my skin he touches by ghosting his fingers over me. A loud moan passes my lips when he presses the silicone vibrator against my clit, the power on full blast without warning. 

“That’s it. Let me hear how good this feels.” Matty encourages me, circling the toy slowly and pressing firmer. More moans fall from my lips. My stomach is tightening already, and my legs are starting to shake against the outside of Matty’s thighs as he’s situated himself between them. 

Tears threaten to spill past my eyelids when Matty pushes two fingers into me, curling them up to hit the perfect spot. My chest is heaving, back arched, “I'm gonna cum.” I whimper.

His fingers, the vibrator- all pulled away from me, leaving me panting. Pulling the tie from my off in anger. He is already smirking at me when I sit up on my palms, lips pressed tightly together, and brows furrowed. “What the fuck, Matty?” I hiss, kicking him away and standing from the bed. “I know Charli and G will finish me off If you won't.” I taunted, knowing damn well I wouldn’t do it. The bed creaks as he stands, and I catch him in my peripheral, stalking me with a glare. 

In the blink of an eye, I’m pulled back with Matty’s hand wrapped around my throat. His bare chest is pressed to my back, his lips ghosting over the shell of my ear. “What the fuck did you just say?”

My body shivers at the threatening timber of his voice, his fingers flexing on either side of my neck. 

There he is.

“You heard me, Matty. Either you fuck me, or I go downstairs right now." Matty pushes me away from him and towards the bed, and I have to catch myself by my palms to stop myself from falling over completely. 

“Is this what you want, Angel? To be fucked like the little needy whore you are?” I peek over my shoulder as he pulls his boxers down and kicks out of them quickly. 

The throbbing in my stomach increases when I see how hard he is, a bead of pre-cum spilling from the head of his dick. He spits into his hand, smearing it around the head of his dick before pumping himself a few times, holding my steady gaze. 

My head drops back to face the mattress when he comes to stand behind me, one hand digging into my hip and the other smoothing over the curve of my ass before he thrusts into me, stilling when his hips meet my backside. 

“Oh, fuck.” I curse, gripping the sheets into my palms. “Matty, please.” I beg, pushing my hips back against him for friction.

“Now you’re begging for me, huh? Desperate fuckin' slut. The way you’re gripping around me, god damn.” He grunts, sliding out slowly until just the head of his dick is inside of me. 

“Do you still wanna go to them?” My breath is knocked from my lungs when he thrusts into me hard, holding onto my hip for better leverage. “Do you think they could fuck you like this? Leave you a pathetic panting mess?” 

Matty drills into me, fast and hard, “Tell me, Stormi.” He grunts, his free hand coming to my hair, pulling our bodies flush against one another as he pushes into me at a new angle. 

“No, no. I only want you.” I whine loudly, reaching behind me to hold onto his narrow waist to steady myself. 

“That's what I fuckin' thought.” He scoffs, turning my head by the hair he has wrapped around his fist to smash our lips together.  My body rocks against his, breathing long forgotten as he captures my lips and keeps the torturous pace he’s thrusting with. 

A chill runs down my spine as I feel my arousal start to run down my legs, guttural moans passing through both of us. My legs are shaking, and I’m choking on breathy moans as he pushes me back down, slamming into me with need. 

“Be a good girl and fuckin’ take it.” He grunts, a hand coming down to slap my ass harshly. 

I can’t even begin to form a sentence with how rough and quick he is pounding into me. My skin is sweaty, and loud moans leave my lips and mix with Matty’s. His thrusts are becoming less precise, quick and sloppy with how wet I am, and I can tell by his broken moans that he’s getting close to cumming. 

My eyes close tightly from the pleasure, and I can feel myself pulsing around him, trying to coax the orgasm my body is burning for. 

Again, right before I can feel the high coming, Matty pulls out of me. 

I fall onto the mattress and glance over my shoulder, ready to cuss him out, but this time he leaves no opening for it. His hands grip my waist, turning me and scooting both of us up on the bed frantically. 

He parts my legs, sitting on his knees between them as he wraps one around his waist and the other over his shoulder. He meets my gaze, a smirk tugging at his lips before leaning his head over and spitting directly onto my throbbing cunt. My body jerks when his fingers come down to my clit, rubbing the spit around in a teasing rhythm.

My breath is choked out when he delves back into me roughly without warning. 

Matty’s eyes roll back, and his bottom lip is pulled between his teeth as his head falls back to look up at the ceiling in pleasure. The sight alone, so worked up because of me, has me nearly cumming. His body is coated in sweat, chest and biceps rippling with each movement. 

His damp curls hang over his eyes as he looks back down at me when I moan his name, one hand holding my leg securely over his shoulder and the other coming down to rub circles over my clit. 

My back arches, and my hands hold onto the sheets beneath me at the sensation. “Fuck me. That’s it, Angel. You like that, yeah?” 

I nod frantically, screwing my eyes shut when my knee almost touches my chest as he leans over me, his lips finding mine hungrily. “Feels so fucking good.”

“Yes, god. You feel so good inside of me.” I praise him in breathy whimpers, unclamping my hands from the sheets to dip one into his sweaty hair and the other raking over his shoulder blades. 

Matty drops the leg from over his shoulder, using his own grip on my shoulders to pound into me deeper. The new angle has me arching again, our chests pressed together, and loud moans falling from my lips like a prayer when he attacked his mouth to my neck, trailing kisses and love bites down my chest. 

I’m thankful for the loud music going on downstairs cause the moment his lips latch around my nipple, circling his tongue and pulling it between his teeth, my hips buck, and a pornographic moan forces itself from my lips. 

“You look so beautiful like this, falling apart all because of me.” He groans, glancing up at me as he peppers kisses between the curve of my breasts. 

Pushing him over, I turn the both of us so that I’m straddling his waist, his hands taking refuge on my hips. I don’t waste a second before slamming my hips down and taking him all the way. 

Matty’s mouth falls open, throwing his head back against the pillow as my walls clamp around him. 

My nails dig into his chest as I rock my hips, lifting and falling back onto him, chasing the orgasm that’s begging to be released. His moans urge me on, and I lift myself off until just the tip is in me before plunging back down quicker this time, letting our voices meld together. 

His hip bones are digging into me with how rough I’m riding him, and I’m sure I’ll leave marks on his chest from my nails, but the pain is only quickening his climax. His face is pulled up in pleasure; eyes closed tightly with his jaw unhinged. 

“Open your eyes. I wanna watch you.” I say through broken breaths, trailing a hand down into his and bringing it up to cup my breast tightly. 

Brown eyes meet mine before glancing down to watch himself disappear inside me. Each time I lower myself onto him, my arousal coats him, making a mess between the two of us.

“Jesus Christ,” he moans, his other hand releasing my hip and coming to rub circles on my clit with his thumb in rhythm with the rocking of my hips. 

“That’s it, Angel. Fuck me. Use me. Make a goddamn mess.” He encourages, my own head flinging back to the ceiling in pleasure before looking down into his eyes. 

It’s only a few more times of me lifting myself and plummeting down on him before my walls start convulsing around him, the hand he’s cupping my breast with coming to my throat and tightening his fingers around the sides. “Shit, shit, shit…” I moan out in breaths, Matty nodding understandingly. 

“Feels so good, Angel. Nobody hugs my cock like you do, goddamn.” He groans, pulling his feet up to lay flat against the mattress. The hand around my throat tugs me down, his lips meeting mine roughly. 

My lips part, a loud moan that Matty swallows hungrily. I know if his lips weren’t on mine, the music and voices downstairs wouldn’t be able to block out my screams chanting his name. 

His hips buck up into me with no mercy, a hand smoothing down my spine before squeezing the flesh of my ass harshly. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” I choke, my walls clenching around him violently. Besides the muddled music and the pants between us, all I can hear is our bodies smacking against one another. 

Both of his arms wrap around me, guiding me through the blur of my high, smacking my ass with one hand while the other continues biting into my skin devilishly. “Soak my cock, Angel. Cum all over me.”

My movement is still as my jaw drops, breathing heavily against Matty’s lips. I can feel myself dripping onto his pelvis and thighs as he continues to thrust up into me, his own grunts of an oncoming orgasm coursing through him. My forehead drops to his chest as his movements become sloppy and sharp, my name flowing from his lips like a sinful prayer. 

“Shit, fuckin’ hell-” he moans, thrusting up into me one last time with force before stilling inside of me. 

The tension in both of our bodies dissipates as I collapse fully on top of him, his hands smoothing over the sensitive skin of my ass before trailing up my damp back and curling in the hair that’s sticking to the back of my neck. 

I’m not sure how long we’ve laid there, just breathing in each other’s scent and calmingness before Matty gently pulls out of me and softly brings his lips to mine.

“I love you. That was fucking amazing,” he whispers, a satisfied smirk on his lips. I hum in agreement as I rest my forehead against his, a peaceful silence settling between us.

[thegeeksideofsr]

The Scare

Part two

Content: pregnancy symptoms, nausea, dry heaving,

An: I finally finished a fic! It might be a while before this happens again, but we'll see. Not proot read. Ps: I know pregnancy is not for everyone, but if it is I hope you enjoy, and I have never been pregnant, so I'm kinda just winging it.

The sounds of Kate, Declan and Alice discussing the plot of a TV show they are watching loud enough for me to hear in the office. On the other side of the kitchen from the bar.

Albeit, the restaurant is empty apart of the four of us and the doors between the bar and my office are open. The point stands. They are being loud.

Tuning them out is easy enough, this is rather normal behavior, the thing that made it difficult to focus was the nauseating feeling in my stomach.

It had been with there all morning, breakfast already made it's appearance for the second time in the bathroom of the restaurant. At least I was the first one here so no one saw.

After reading the same paragraph for the third time, I give up trying to work on the documents in front of me. I can come back to them when I don't feel like I'm going to puke every five minutes.

I push away from my desk and head out to the bar. Maybe some peppermint tea will settle my stomach.

The trio are in deep discussion, so they don't noise me coming out and filling the electric kettle behind the bar, and setting it to heat.

As I dig through the jar of tea for a bag of peppermint, the smell of the other teas in the jar meld together.

Lavender and mint, chamomile, earl grey, and green tea, all blending together to make the most disgusting smell on Earth.

I set the jar down and cover it as fast as I can. I brace myself against the counter, taking deep breaths and fighting the urge to puke.

"Boss? You okay?" Deklan asks, his voice full of concern.

I nod, not trusting my self to speak with out getting sick.

"You don't look it." He places a hand on my shoulder. " What's wrong?"

I shake my head, losing the battle with my stomach.

"'M gonna be sick," I mutter as I push past him and run to the bathroom.

Rush to a stall, and try to puke, but having not eaten anything since throwing up breakfast, it was nothing but painfully dry heaves.

I jump as a hand lands on my shoulders, then collects my hair, holding it out of the way.

"It's alright, hun, let it out." Alice's voice is calm and comforting as I continue to heave.

After few more heaves, the nauseous feeling begins to calm down. A tissue appears in front of me. I take it and wipe my mouth. I move away from the toilet, close my eyes and lean back against the cold metal of the stall.

"You okay now?" Alice asks, her voice still calm.

I nod. "I'm better."

"Good. Any idea what triggered it?"

"The tea jar. The smell was overwhelming and made me sick. Happened this morning too, but there wasn't anything to trigger that."

She hums, "Sounds like when I was pregnant with my first. The most random things would set me off. The smell of my favorite food, my husband's cologne."

I remember when she was pregnant. She had to take a few months off because the smells of the restaurant made her sick and she couldn't be in the building for more then ten minutes.

I cant remember my last period. Life has been busy and stressful. Between running a restaurant, Eliot being distant the past six months, and now, Dad and the team going after some big bad in a foreign country, and going radio silent.

I don't know if he even wants kids. We've never talked about them or the future. I know he likes kids. I've seen him interact with them and he's a natural. But they aren't his own.

I look at her. My face must show my train of thought, because she has a comforting look on hers. Like she's soothing a child.

"Don't panic yet, love. You don't even know yet. It could be a stomach bug making you sick and stress making you late."

I nod. It's true. It could be that. Or I could be pregnant with Eliot Spencer's child.

Eliot and I weren't as careful as we should have been the last couple times. And that was at least two and a half months ago.

"I'm going to run to the shop on the corner, grab a pack of tests and something to help your stomach. While I'm gone I want you to lay down in the office. I'll have Deklan bring you some peppermint tea so you don't have to smell that jar again, okay?"

"Okay," I nod.

She nods, pushing her self off the floor then extending a hand out to me to pull me up.

Once on my feet, I hug her tightly, she returns the hug, squeezing in a comforting manner.

"Go lay down. I'll be right back."

I release her and head to the office. Voices are low in the front of the building, but the couch in the office looks to inviting to care about what they're saying.

My stomach muscles scream as I lay my self down. Between getting sick this morning, and the recent dry heaving, it feels like I got punched.

I pull the blanket on the back of the couch down to cover me, tucking it around me, close my eyes and try to relax.

After a few minutes, foots steps approach the office, then a knock on the open door.

"Hey, boss," Deklan murmurs. "I brought you some tea. Alice said you had an upset stomach, so this should help. I put lots of honey in too."

He walks over to the end of the couch and sits next to my feet.

I pull my self up and take the mug. Deklan is a master tea maker, always makes it just right.

"Thanks, Dek." I smile at him.

He returns the smile, but I can see it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Are you ok?" He asks.

I nod. "I am. Alice has got to get something's. Hopefully it's just a bug."

"What if it's not?"

"What do you mean?"

He gives me a look, eyebrow raised and a smirk.

"I have met Eliot. And I have seen you on the days after he returns from his work trips." He says making my face heat up and look away from him.

"I may be a dude, but I have two sisters and Alice is a horrible liar." He adds, making me giggle.

"What'd she say?"

"She said she was going to the store for something to make you feel better, and absolutely nothing else. At all. Not making eye contact with us, and asked me to make you a cup of tea and ran out."

"She ran to the corner store," I mutter. " Get some tests."

He shrugs. "I figured. You gonna be okay? Need anything else?"

"No. I'm good. I'll be fine."

"You sound like you are trying to convince yourself more then me." His tone soft and concerned.

I break his gaze to look into my mug. Deklan has always been there when one of us needed him. The closest thing to a brother I'll ever get.

"I'll be okay." I mutter, looking back up to his worried face, "I just need to know for sure one way or the other so I can think about what's next."

"Well," he says, placing a hand on my knee, "I can't help with finding out, but if you need anything after that, one way or the other, I'm here. Just call."

"Thanks, Deklan."

"Anytime." He smiles.

He pats my knee, then pushes himself off the couch and head out of the office.

I continue to sip my tea, I don't know if it's helping my stomach, but it tastes good. The sounds of Kate and Deklan milling around acts as white noise, soothing my nerves and thoughts. But the thing I want most right now is a hug from my Dad and Eliot.

Not at the same time, though. Someone would lose a limb.

That won't happen for who knows how long. They were off on a mountain somewhere and hadn't any idea when they would be back.

Footsteps rushing towards the office pull me from my thoughts.

Alice appears in the doorway, a grey plastic bag dangling from her hand.

"I got ginger ale, saltines, tests, and your favorite candy." She puffs, sounding like she ran the whole way.

"Thank you Alice." I say unraveling my self from my blanket.

I set my near empty mug down on the desk as I stand.

She tussles through the bag and pulls out the box of tests, holding them out to me.

I stare at them. My arms feel like they are made of lead.

"They won't bite." Alice chuckles.

"You don't know that."

She huffs, dropping her arm back to her side.

"You won't know until you take one," she says. "Do you want to take one now?"

The thought of taking one scares me, especially without Eliot. And I don't really want to take the test here because i know I won't be able to control my emotions and will cry. Positive or not.

I just want to crawl into bed and hug Eliot's pillow and cry.

"I think I need to go home." I choke out, tears blurring my vision.

"Okay. We can handle everything here, don't worry."

I nod.

"Thank you." My voice barely over a whisper.

She nods, then puts the box back in the bag and sets the bag on the desk, before leaving the room and going down the hall.

Tears slip down my cheeks. The pit in my stomach growing by the second.

I take a beep breath and wipe my tears away.

Grabbing my bag of the hook by the door, setting it on the desk, and shove the grocery bag into it and zip it closed with more force then was probably necessary, and pulling my coat on next.

Flipping the lights off as I swing my bag over my shoulder, then head out to the hall, slipping out the side door into the employee lot and to my car to head home.

I swallow down tears as I drive, focusing on the road as I try not to think about the test I have to take when I get there.

I drag myself in the front door. Dropping my coat, purse, and shoes by the door, not bothering to put them away.

I pull the plastic bag from my purse, mozey my way to the kitchen and dump the bag on the counter. A box of saltines, a bottle of ginger ale, candy, and a box of pregnancy tests spread across the counter.

I stare at the box. I should take it. I can't freak out or relax until I know for sure and I can't know for sure if it don't take it.

I grab the box, tear it open and pull out the instructions.

The words are a blur through the tears in my eyes, making it impossible to read.

I sigh and toss the box back on the counter.

My head is pounding and my palms are sweating. An Eliot hug is exactly what I need, but his not here. And won't be back for a few more days.

I take a deep breath, then head to my room to change and crawl into my bed.

The bed feels big and empty. More then usual. I reach for Eliot's pillow and hugg it to my chest, borrowing my face in into it and breathing in his sent.

He had only been here one night after the last job. But then said the team had to lay low for a while and that he had to stay out of town for a while.

He seemed different, lighter, but he wouldn't tell me anything about it.

That was two and a half months ago.

Dad only told me they had a new job a week ago, but before that, I hadn't heard from anyone on the team.

After I calm down a little bit, I untangle my self from the bed, steel my nerves, and head back to the kitchen to grab a test.

I read the instructions, then go to the bathroom.

I leave the test on the counter to develop, set a timer on my phone, then I begin to pace the floor of my bedroom.

After what feels like an eternity and blink of an eye at the same time, the timer finally goes off.

----------------------------------------------------

Eliot Spencer Tag list

@fictional-hooman @skyeofbees @kimberkingrivers @spencereliotwinchester @padawancat97 @hunted-secrets-41319

[masonmiamor]

think about it - - mason mount x reader.

summary: what happens when bsf! mason wants more, but you’re not willing too in order to protect your friends heart and yours.

wc: 1.3k

Hi everyone... It's been months... so forgive me... it's a Christmas miracle! 😭😭I hope everyone is doing okay and safe! I'd love to hear all about it if you'd like to speak about it! Feel like this is so bad and I lost my spark but I hope you can still enjoy :( 💕 don't forget to reblog, as us writers love to hear back from you!

“Stop! Don’t say another word,” you reluctantly stood being faced with Mason who stood confused. “You can’t say that Mason. You’re going out with her! One of my friends? How can you say that?” you defend your friend, even if she wasn’t there. 

Being best friends with Mason wasn’t always easy. He forgot he was a normal person sometimes, and would let the fame get to his head, which is what he’s doing right now. Your parents and his were grateful more than ever to have you keep him in check because lord knew it would be a mess. 

Mason had been flirting and going out with your friend Stella. From the stories she told, it sounded serious, and wanted more. You didn’t play Cupid, and part of you was slightly upset when you found out from Declan they were going out. Behind your back, not even a single word from Mason. 

Stella was a beautiful blond, working at a law firm, and definitely super confident. You were the opposite, still at uni and trying to find a program that could promote your art. Art was your life, no matter what went on, it was a way for you to release all your energy into a blank canvas. 

“All I’m saying is that I don’t like her like that anymore. She’s to stuck up and self-centered, I’m not ready for that commitment,” Mason reasoned but you shook your head with a no. This was him. Becoming a womanizer. Forgetting the good and little things that occurred in his life. 

“You’re gonna break her heart? Before Christmas? Really?” you say with a pure questioning voice, your eyes squinting. Mason shrugged and nodded nonchalantly, “I don’t see why not. I realized I didn't want her. She’s not the one I want,” he said.  

“So why play her? Drag it out this long. That’s not fair to her,” you say disgusted not being able to look at him. Mason always was a person you admired and looked up to, but deep down you fell for the freckled brown-eyed man. It was hard to resist and you refused to accept it, but when seeing them together, you couldnt help think it should be you aside him. “You don’t think it’s fair for me? I never wanted her, she threw herself at me.” 

“Which is why I’m saying why play her when you should’ve made it clear from the start? You made her attached to you and let her believe your lies and promises. Mason what the actual fuck?” you spit out with pure rage. The room becomes hot as you begin to look around for the exit. 

“She also played with me! I’m sure she didn’t tell you that because you’re blind to her. You’re so quick to defend her but what about me? Your best friend? Stella messed around with other men, while I stayed loyal to her. She’s a liar and a manipulator. So what if I end it before Christmas? I can finally have the person I want instead of being focused on someone who can’t even make time for me.”

This was certainly news to you, as you started to feel regretful for the way you screamed at him. To call him a womanizer and letting the fame get to him. You didn’t know Stella did this, it was news to you. As all she could brag about nowadays was about Mason this Mason that. She never mentioned talking with other people. He was right. You did let her get to your head. 

“It’s okay I know you didn’t mean it, to scream at me,” Mason noticed your quiet tone, heart-wrenching as he tried to swallow the words that wanted to come out, before he knew it, he started speaking again. “I know you want what’s best for everyone, but when will you think of yourself? You also deserved to be treated right and loved by someone,” you eyed him weirdly and burst out laughing. 

“Me being in in love? Or someone loving me? That’s impossible. I haven’t had a boyfriend in years, let alone go on dates. I’m starting to accept the fact I won’t find anyone, I mean look at me!” you said seriously, continuing to laugh. Mason frowned, shaking his head at the way you were talking to yourself. 

“I am looking at you… and all I see is someone who’s scared of revealing who they truly are. The commitment maybe or afraid of being rejected. A beautiful, smart, independent woman,” Mason said carefully as he took steps closer to you. “Someone who deserves the world after putting everyone first before her. Why can't you see that? Why do you distance yourself from me?” he asked with urgency. 

You would be lying if you said you slowly detached yourself from him. Avoiding plans or meetings because it hurt to see him. The idea of him not telling you he was going out with Stella, seeing them together when all your friends went out, your friend who still was with Mason, and being in love with your best friend but still trying to refuse it. 

It drove you wild and often made you cry because everyone around you began to settle down, and you were left wondering why you couldn’t keep one good person in your life. You hated the fact of never being enough, for yourself or anyone around you. Maybe you weren't enough and that is what pushed people away. 

“Mason…”

“Why can't you let me love you like you deserve? Let me take your worries and pains away? Let me be the man you need and love you unconditionally? What are you so afraid of? What else do I have to do to get your attention?” Mason confessed. The Christmas tree lighting made him look intimidating as he held your face in his large hands. 

It was fucked up. He knew it was fucked up to mess with your friend to get you to see how madly he fell in love with you. It was an even bigger mistake to have dragged it out this long, knowing how distant and muted you were from him. He just wanted you to finally see that it was him all along. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, unable to look him in the eyes, because if you did, you would give it away how you felt about him. The eyes never lied. Your eyes never lied to him. “Say something please…” Mason pleaded, afraid he might've overstepped, or read the cards wrong. 

“I'm not the right person for you Mase… I can’t give you what you want…” you painfully smiled, as both of your hearts sunk deeper. “I can't lose you like I’ve lost everyone else. We wouldn't work, I’m just way too different from the girls you've been with,” you say pulling away from his grasp and walking to the opposite end of the room. 

“They're not you though. You will always come first. They didn't mean anything because it wasn't them I wanted, it's all along been you. I’ve spent way too much time thinking, losing you, suffering because you weren't with me. I'm tired of that, I just want you baby. Don't compare yourself to anyone in the world, because at the end of the day, you will be the first one I look for… I love you.” Your eyes widened, not realizing he stood in front of you again. 

Your head felt heavy, filled with thoughts as they raced through your head. Your chest tightened at his words. After waiting so long to hear them, why did all of a sudden feel different? Like you didn't believe them. Believe him. Was it the fact she was still present, or were you afraid of finally having something real and you being the reason to lose it all? Mason leaned down kissed the inner corner of your mouth, and pulled away. Joining your families who were celebrating Christmas Eve. 

“Think about it. Okay?”

[kelliealtogether]

I'm hoping to have one last fic typed up, edited, and posted by the end of 2024, but as the year is winding down, I figured I'd post a wrap-up of the works I've completed this year. So here they are, from longest to shortest. 😌

In Comes the Tide - 45k - Rated T

Performing a simple, polite gesture should not result in a marriage, but—Adam Parrish learned—this did not apply to selkies. The summer before his senior year at Harvard, Adam returns to the same small coastal town where he's spent the past two summers. Bussing tables isn't what he wants to do with his life, but the dockside seafood shack where he works is popular, and the tips the employees split pad his bank account enough to afford a more leisurely fall when he gets back to Cambridge. Little does Adam know he's in for a very surprising summer when a selkie shows up at The Sea Shanty and Adam saves his coat...

While There's Breath in My Body - 11k - Rated E

Adam Parrish had lived in Port Royal for twenty years. He’d been around ships for almost two thirds of his life. In all that time, only one ship ever raised the hair on his arms each time it came to port, and it was not the ship itself, but the man who stood at its helm. A skirmish could put a ship’s fate in someone else’s hands. A storm or a cannon ball could put it at the bottom of the sea. A rampant illness could leave it crewless and adrift, waiting for the next enterprising group of sailors to come on board. But a particular flag, a particular captain… Those raised Adam’s hair far more than any combination of masts, sails, and anchors ever would.

A Pirate AU

Hello, I'm in Delaware - 7k - Rated G

Has anyone ever told you that you look like a fed?” “I am a fed.” “And it’s disgusting how much you don’t hide it.” Adam Parrish travels the country covering up sightings of dreamt cryptids. When he gets called to Delaware to investigate a creature caught on home security footage, he asks for some help from a dreamer. His fiancé, Ronan Lynch.

The Magician Entertainment - 5k - Rated G

When Adam Parrish reveals he knows sleight of hand at a company team building event, he doesn't realize how big of a mistake he's made until one of his colleagues corners him a few days later in the office kitchen. The entertainment Declan Lynch hired for his daughter's birthday party bailed, and Declan has ideas about who can fill that void: Adam. Adam agrees — simply because Declan offers him the easiest $500 Adam will ever earn — though Adam's not happy about it. It's only when he arrives at the party that he realizes he might be able to perform some actual magic. With Declan's younger brother, Ronan.

Just Coffee - 4k - Rated G

The new barista at Fox Way Cafe was hot as shit. Or Ronan Lynch hoped he was new. That was the only reasonable excuse why the barista sucked at barista-ing and seemed to provide the fucking worst customer service known to man. The way the guy’s thin smile faltered when he asked someone how he could help them said he’d rather throw himself into an active volcano — or possibly a tiny metal pitcher of freshly steamed milk, given the setting — than take another order for a nonfat pumpkin spice peppermint patty latte with almond milk or whatever, but damn, Ronan would stand in line all day if it meant watching the new guy epically fail at providing a good customer experience. Ronan Lynch doesn't mean to become a regular at Fox Way Cafe, but when he sees the cafe's newest employee for the first time, he decides to keep going back again, and again, and again. At least until the new barista learns how to spell his name...

Rock Beats Scissors - 2k - Rated M

Really, if they wanted to keep things fair and equitable, they could have found some impartial way to make the decision. Flipping a coin. Drawing straws. Rolling a die. But being distractingly hard didn’t always allow for rational thinking, and for two eighteen-year-old boys who appreciated the more physical aspects of life, neither of them would have been willing to hit the pause button to scramble out of bed and find a quarter or an old board game. They just kept going until someone gave in, and no matter who put what where, they both ended up exceedingly happy with the results. Which worked. Until the first time neither of them wanted to give in. When Adam and Ronan can't agree on who's going to top, they solve their problem the old fashioned way: rock paper scissors.

The Singular Formula - 2k - Rated G

It was because he spent his nights on Adam’s floor awake that Ronan heard Adam talk in his sleep in the first place, and though he might not have remembered when he first heard Adam sleep talking, Ronan would never forget what Adam said. Seal off the wall. Don’t let the submarines in. When Ronan starts sleeping over at Adam's tiny apartment above St. Agnes, he learns something about Adam he hadn't known before: Adam talks in his sleep.

Safe Bet - 1k - Rated G

The guy tilted his head slightly as if to say fair, and he lifted a long, lovely hand to push a lock of dusty hair back off his forehead as he looked at Ronan. “I might be, but I hope not.” One corner of his thin lips twitched, then he said, “Because I have a proposition.” Ronan stared. Blinked. He had not anticipated his evening taking this kind of turn when he’d needed to get out of his older brother’s apartment. Ronan loved his brothers Declan and Matthew — who he’d come to stay with while he tried to make his life less directionless — but sometimes three Lynches under one roof was too much. Evenly, he said, “A proposition.” When Ronan Lynch is approached by a hot stranger at a bar, the last thing he expects is that he'll be drawn into the guy's scheme to win a bet against his coworkers.

I've got tons of pots simmering on my stove going into 2025, so here's to another year of writing about these two idiot assholes falling in love over and over again. 🥰

[harlotsforcinnamon]

Ghost on the Dance Floor

(Also on Ao3!)

Rockstar AU where Noah crashes with Ronan whenever he's in town. This time he meets Ronan's hot older brother and invites him to the last show of his tour. Sex ensues.

Basically @alter-adam said “Noah in a band shirt and fishnets under ripped jeans w nothing underneath” and I started shaking like a rabid dog

Noah made his way from the bedroom to the kitchen and let the refrigerator bathe him in the bluish light, cold air billowing romantically, lit otherworldly in the dark kitchen. The linoleum was cool against his bare feet and Noah wiggled his toes against it in pleasure.

He could hear the sounds of two people pretending they weren’t fighting coming from the living room, all hushed voices and frigid silences.

He was crashing with Ronan while he was in town, eschewing the tour van or a hotel for warm sheets and a willing bedmate. Sometimes a home-cooked breakfast too, if he got up early enough, although that was rare.

Curious, carton of orange juice in hand, he followed the voices.

One of them belonged to Ronan, who stood with his back to Noah. His tattoo blazed up the back of his neck, hot and angry, thrusting up from his shirt collar. There was something hostile in the set of his shoulders, the shaven curve of his skull, the way he held his arms bent, as though ready to throw a punch.

Ronan’s conversational partner, however, eyed Noah over Ronan’s shoulder as he emerged from the kitchen. In contrast to Ronan, the stranger’s posture was loose, his hands open, his back straight. He looked almost bored, although there was something tight in his voice that belied his posture.

He was also a total smokeshow. As tall as Ronan and dressed sharply in charcoal gray slacks and a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, a jacket and tie folded neatly over one arm, brogues impossibly shiny. His hair was glossy and dark, his curls artfully tamed, threads of gray just starting at his temples. Noah caught a glitter of gold at the hollow of his throat where his shirt collar gaped.

“Who’s this?”

Ronan spun on his heel, still scowling, his expression lifting a little as his eyes landed on Noah, barefoot and bare-chested in Ronan’s boxers, streaks of Ronan’s cum still dried across Noah’s stomach.

“Oh,” Ronan said, grudgingly. “This is Noah. Noah, Declan. My brother.”

Noah tipped the carton of orange juice up to his lips to hide a smile. “Hi, Declan.”

Hot Declan eyed Noah. Noah wiggled his toes as those clear gray eyes took in his unwashed hair, the fresh hickies no shirt collar was ever gonna cover, the dried cum, the pierced nipples, the shitty stick n poke tattoos, and the open carton of orange juice. A faint look of disgust curled Declan’s lip, which in turn sent a line of heat singing down Noah’s brain stem, pooling low in his gut.

Nice. He could work with that.

“I have a show tonight,” Noah said casually. He rocked up onto the balls of his feet. “Ronan’s coming. You should too.” He winked, ignoring Ronan’s dire expression. “Come, I mean.”

Hot Declan tilted his head, effectively diverted from whatever it was he’d done to piss off Ronan.

He gave Noah a second appraising look, this time lingering on his eyes, his lips, his biceps. His expression turned thoughtful. He addressed Ronan, “Maybe it’s good for you to have friends around who have actual jobs.”

Noah caught Ronan’s look of disbelief. He didn’t begrudge him it, or even disagree. Noah was no one’s idea of a model of gainful employment, even if it was technically true.

“Alright,” Ronan said with a snort. “Yeah, come to the show.”

There was a challenge in his voice, but Declan didn’t seem to notice or care. He’d withdrawn a sleek little cell phone from his jacket pocket and was busy tapping away with an index finger and thumb. “Cool,” he said vaguely. “Text me the details.”

Noah’s face hurt he was grinning so wide. “Cool.”

Noah came alive during shows. He knew it. He felt it. Performing would always and forever be his first love. The electric current across his skin of all eyes on him, raising the hairs on his arms. The wall of noise. The bodies sweating, pushing, laughing, screaming, singing. The impact of drumsticks on skins ricocheting up his arms, an extension of himself, of his pulse.

He was a part of a bigger organism. One ventricle of its heart. One lone synapse. A monkey in a space capsule living and dying to push one button. To pull one lever.

He ate and drank it and breathed it and let it bend him over and he never slept so good as right after a show. Adrenaline high, adrenaline crash, little bit of coke, weed, beer, orgasm, the worst pizza he’d ever had in his life, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with his favorite dirtbags in the world. Bliss.

It was addictive.

A gaggle of girls with a name spelled out across their tits, the same name that was blazoned across his drum kit, picked out in a font that looked like the blue painter’s tape he’d slapped on during their first tour, now made indelible. Forever and ever, amen. He twirled a drumstick and blew them a kiss. They screamed. Seeing this, Barry glanced over his shoulder on the pretext of adjusting his guitar strap and furtively gave Noah the finger. Noah blew him a kiss too.

Even the fancy ear plugs their tour manager made them wear couldn’t deafen the sound of it all. They got the nod and the thumbs-up from the guy in the sound booth and Noah’s pulse surged. Barry fingered a little riff on the guitar and Noah clicked his sticks together. One two three four.

Begin.

Last show of the tour was always in Henrietta. It was baked into their contracts. Even on overseas tours, they’d take a red-eye into SHD, one day to recoup, and then one final show. After that, Barry was on a flight to Colorado while the rest of the band was off to LA. They all kept permanent addresses, apartments where they could take girlfriends, boyfriends, and fuckbuddies. Places to crash for a couple months after a tour, to work on writing, on music. To pretend they had normal lives for a while.

Noah usually crashed with Ronan for a few days, hit up any other former Raven boys in town he still cared to talk to, and then flew out to the Valley.

Noah always joked that if he ever tried to quit the band, Barry should put him down like a dog.

“Sure,” Barry’d say, inexorable and terrible. “I’ll bash your brains in with your own skateboard, man.”

And Noah would laugh. “Metal.”

Noah waited until most people had been ushered out of the venue to hover eagerly outside the stage doors in hopes of catching sight of him and his band mates.

That would come later.

For now he made his way down to the venue’s bar.

He’d been too busy, too far back onstage, long hair and sweat in his eyes, to look for Ronan’s shaved head in the crowd, but he knew he’d be there. Ronan always came to his Henrietta shows. And standing beside Ronan at the bar: Noah broke into a grin and picked up the pace.

Declan looked almost unfairly good. It seemed that his version of dressed-down was nicer that most people’s dressed-up, but he made it work in a form-fitting black tee-shirt and slacks.

He was wearing his cross pulled out of his shirt, and it glittered gold, identical to the one Noah had tucked safely into his fist while fucking Ronan the night before. Declan’s fingers were banded with rings, and Noah’s mouth watered as he imagined the heft and texture of them sliding across his tongue.

“You came.” It was aimed at Declan.

Declan’s smile was hot and lazy, and he took his time eyeing Noah up, taking in the fishnets visible through the torn-open thighs of Noah’s jeans.

“Not yet.”

Beside Declan, Ronan’s smirk faltered. He was flicking his eyes back and forth between the two of them.

“So,” Noah said. He was still buzzing, still high on adrenaline, still a million degrees and ten feet off the ground. “You wanna?”

“Excuse me,” Ronan said loudly, “I’m right here.”

“Then go away,” Noah and Declan said in unison.

Ronan balked. “We’re in public for Christ’s sake.”

Noah elected to ignore this. He was still looking at Declan. “Have you ever seen a greenroom before?”

Declan cottoned on immediately. It was honestly kind of a pleasure to watch. “Wanna give me a tour?”

And if Noah felt a little bad for leaving Ronan standing alone by the bar, the feeling was quickly subsumed by the kickdrum beat of his heart, of heat surging through him.

Alone in the greenroom, Declan wasted no time backing Noah up against the door, wrapping a hand around Noah’s jaw and tipping his head back, kissing him hot and hungry. Noah shuddered in ecstasy, arching his back and rocking up onto the balls of his feet.

Declan broke the kiss to nose down the line of Noah’s throat, gathering sweat with his tongue and sucking bruises over the ones Ronan had left him the night before.

Noah shuddered and gasped, hands coming up to clutch at the front of Declan’s shirt, until suddenly Declan was stooping and wrapping an arm around Noah’s waist, lifting him effortlessly, and it was rare someone tried to pull that with Noah, rare a lover was strong and ballsy enough to try and it and pull it off and Noah never ever got tired of it, it was a move that they both knew was a move, but that didn’t change the fact that it got him every time.

With Noah’s legs wrapped around his waist, Declan took a few steps and let Noah down to sit on the arm of the beat-up duct-taped flannel couch. In one motion, Declan stripped Noah’s ripped jeans off, and then had to stop when he realized that Noah was bare-assed underneath, in fishnets and nothing else.

Declan groaned, reaching out to press his fingers into the black netting, pulling it tighter against the swell of Noah’s cock, and Noah’s answering groan came from deep in his chest, unable to look away as his cock twitched, trapped.

With a hand on Noah’s chest, Declan tipped him back so all Noah’s weight was balanced on his tailbone–Noah quickly threw a hand behind him to keep from topping from his perch–and wrapped an arm around Noah’s knees, pinning his legs together and lifting them to get at Noah’s ass.

Declan got his fingers in those fishnets and tore and Noah couldn’t help the panting whine that escaped him.

“Lie back.”

Noah was quick to do so, his abs already protesting the tricky angle. He was balanced precariously, lying along the sofa’s arm, and he knew he’d have to be careful if he didn’t want to fall. Declan, meanwhile, still pinning his thighs together, leaned down, and bit into the meat of Noah’s ass, vicious and deep, through the new rips in his fishnets.

Noah squirmed and cried out, kicking instinctively, but with Declan’s arm like an iron bar around his knees, he wasn’t going anywhere. Clearly he was as strong as Ronan, maybe stronger. Noah caught the edge of a smile that made his heart kick in his ribcage as Declan dug his fingers into the diamond-pattern of Noah’s tights and ripped a fresh gash over the back of Noah’s thigh, lowering his head to bite.

“Fuck! Fucking bitch!”

Declan’s laughter buzzed against Noah’s skin, and Noah palmed his cock, relishing the friction of the tights dragging against it in sharp counterpoint to the pain of Declan sucking bruises into the backs of his thighs. He felt a finger at the cleft of his ass and realized with a thrill what Declan had in mind.

“Wait.” He grabbed his wrist, and Declan immediately went still. Noah cast his eyes to the far side of the cluttered room. “Pink backpack, with the patches. Condom.”

“I don’t need it yet–”

“I want you to.”

Declan sucked in a breath, his abdomen drawn taut. It was clear he was holding back with everything he had. “Fuck,” he said under his breath.

Noah grinned, shaking his hair out of his eyes and propping himself up on one elbow as Declan let his legs down. “That’s the idea.”

Declan took the opportunity to strip off his shirt, and Noah wolf-whistled as he was treated to the swell of Declan’s biceps, the sight of his cross glittering against a well-defined chest. It was clear all that lean muscle wasn’t just for show, and Noah recalled all of a sudden something Ronan had said once, about how his father had taught him and his brothers to box.

Declan was back in a moment with the condom, and Noah was forced to lie back again as Declan’s rings bit into his thighs. Hedonistically, Noah reached out for one of those hands and took it into his mouth, his eyes falling closed as he slid his tongue across the ridges and valleys of Declan’s fingerprints, tasted metal on his tongue, heavy and skin-warmed.

Declan’s first thrust made Noah moan around his fingers and Declan trembled as he held himself still, cursing.

“Fuck, you’re–” But he didn’t complete the thought before he was thrusting again.

Noah palmed himself through his fishnets again, and it felt so good, so sweet, so exactly what he wanted and needed that he found with lazy astonishment that he was already riding the edge.

Declan was a proficient fuck, as it turned out. Once Noah surrendered his fingers, Declan dug both sets into the diamond-pattern across both thighs, and Noah enjoyed the delicious sight of those hands swallowing up the expanse of his thighs, one corner of his mind on keeping his balance, and the rest of it devoted to this, to the cross tap-tap-tapping against Declan’s sternum, to the look on his face, his carefully-gelled curls coming apart all roguishly unruly, the flex of Declan’s abs, his shoulders, his arms, and when Declan spared both hands without pausing in his thrusts to tear into Noah’s tights again, he had only to wrap that beringed hand around Noah’s cock and stroke him once, twice, before Noah was coming with a shout, arching up to sling an arm around Declan’s neck and meet him in a sloppy kiss. Declan shuddered and followed Noah, and Noah loved the feeling of his thick cock pulsing inside of him, loved this, he loved it, like breathing, like drinking ice-cold water on an empty stomach, like performing, like life, and he laid back and threw an arm over his eyes, laughing breathlessly as Declan eased out of him, as he heard him move away to throw out the condom, as he felt something swabbing half-heartedly at the cum on his stomach.

Noah let himself lie there for a second and bask. When he finally cracked his eyes open, Declan was standing over him, still shirtless, his pants pulled up again but still gaping at the belt. Noah couldn’t read his expression, but he looked a hell of a lot more chilled-out than he had when Noah had met him the day before.

“Well?”

“One hell of a show.”

Noah grinned, pleasure simmering in his gut. “Always.”

“When are you in town next?”

“Aww, baby,” Noah purred, “Don’t tell me you miss me already. You’ll make Ronan jealous.”

Declan’s smile was somewhat abashed. “Alright, I won’t.”

Noah stretched and sat up, grimacing and pressing his fingers into the hickies at his neck, now surely turning purple. “Not that I wouldn’t mind a repeat performance.” His smile was lazy and self-satisfied. He wondered if Ronan could be coaxed into making him post-show pancakes when he finally made his way back to his place. “You know I do it all for the fans.”

[jam3sacaster]

Because I knew you, I have been changed for good. PT.1

(Rivals) Taggie O’Hara x Reader (Platonic)

Suggestion by a sweet anon 🫶🏽 / You, Rupert Campbell-Black’s daughter, make it your mission to befriend Taggie O’Hara.

18+ FANFIC / Platonic love! Mentions of Rupert & Bas. Reader character aged at 21. Maybe a few parts? Hope you enjoy! 🩷

Taggie O’Hara, locked away in her turret bedroom like Rapunzel imprisoned in her tower, held a ruffled forest green chiffon dress to her figure, tilting her head in indecision. Summer was fast approaching, and the sun grew mellow and vivid, coaxing vibrant patches of indigo geraniums and coral pink hydrangeas into life. “Tag, no. That is disgusting.” Caitlin O’Hara spat, protruding her tongue and mock gagging. “What are you dressing up for, anyway? You don’t go anywhere.” She continued, splaying herself across Taggie’s bed and flicking through a glossy magazine. “I’m catering Rupert’s garden party. He told me to wear something nice.” She muttered, now holding a yellow taffeta dress in front of the mirror. “Definitely don’t wear that.” Caitlin tutted, despite not looking up from her magazine.

-

Some hours later, Taggie had packed containers of ambrosial boeuf bourguignon, prawn vol-au-vents, homemade chicken kyiv’s, and all manner of food that she remembered Rupert adored, into the rusted old Mini and was beginning the short drive up to Penscombe Court. As she pulled into the driveway, she took sight of the marvellous party Rupert was hosting. Majestic white marquees with empty tables awaiting Taggie’s decoration. Champagne flutes galore and a sea of brightly-dressed women in cocktail dresses, trailing after suited businessmen and politicians.

Clutching the tupperware desperately between her arms, Taggie stumbled into the garden, keeping her eyes fixed on her feet as to not meet the disapproving glances of the crowd. “Well done, angel. This looks incredible.” Rupert Campbell-Black spoke from behind her, planting his hand firmly on her shoulder. Her heart fluttered frantically as she spun round and began to decorate the elongated table with her food. “I hope it’s good enough. I made the dishes you suggested, and then a few others.” She grinned, batting her lengthy, wispy eyelashes towards him. Wow, Rupert thought to himself, she is beautiful.

You, however, was in the midst of an incredibly monotonous conversation with Basil Baddingham, your honorary uncle. “Bas, shut up a second. Who the fuck is that?” You asked, raising your hand to silence him and knocking back your glass of champagne like a shot. Partly irritated with being interrupted mid-flow, Basil raised his head to meet your sightline — a roguish grin beginning to tug at his lips. “That, my darling, is Taggie O’Hara. Declan’s daughter. Your dad’s got a bit of a crush on her.” Your fist clenched in envy until your knuckles grew white. The thought of your dad moving on from your mother, with whom he’d split from some ten years ago, made you enraged. Snatching Bas’ glass of champagne, you marched towards them.

“Dad! I’m so incredibly bored. When is this thing over?” You whined, resting your temple against his shoulder. Taggie’s eyes widened in a concoction of wild perplexity and utter horror. “It’s only just begun!” Rupert exclaimed, rubbing your back consolingly. “Darling, this is Taggie. Make sure to help her, and don’t let her work too hard.” He beamed, which made Taggie blush furiously, and strode towards Declan who had just arrived with Maud.

Instantaneously reverting back to her work, Taggie continued to laden the white table with her food, decorating it lavishly. “So, Taggie, you’re the cook, are you?” You asked, pinching a vol-au-vent from the metal plate and stuffing it into your mouth. “I’m a cook, yes. I didn’t know Rupert had a daughter, he never mentioned…” Taggie trailed off as she spoke, chomping down on her tongue to stop herself. “I bet he didn’t. He never does to the women that he wants to get into the pants of.” You spat. You wanted to be furious at Taggie, to despise her. But, as you studied her in great detail, all you could see was her kind, glittering eyes and her compassionate smile. “You weren’t just invited to do the food, were you?” You asked, hardened expression softening. Taggie was evidently grateful for this — she shot you a glimpse of her affectionate grin as she finished displaying the food. “N-no. I hope not. I insisted on cooking, but I know your Dad would’ve wanted me to anyway.” Taggie mutters, mopping her brow with the back of her hand.

“Drink?” You asked, waving a full glass of champagne under her nose. “N-no. I’ll have to serve soon.” She shook her head, wiping her hands down her yellow taffeta dress. “No way! Let them serve themselves, they’ll all be too pissed to notice anyway. Honestly, Tag.” You reaffirmed, pushing the glass further towards her. It took a few moments for her to decide, but she did eventually and took a ravenous gulp. “Is that your dress?” You asked, lighting a cigarette and leaning against the table, wind beginning to billow at the thin fabric of the marquee. “Yes. Do you like it?” She asked, a grin turning to horror as she noticed the unsightly brown stains from the bouef bourguignon swept across her dress. “No. And even more so no, now it’s covered in beef. I’ve got too many dresses, if you want to change?” Your raised eyebrows framed your mischievous grin perfectly. Swiping an unopened bottle of champagne, you took a hold of her hand and set off from the garden.

A cacophony of giggles and thunderous footsteps followed the pair of you as you bounded up the staircase, throwing open your door and collapsing onto your bed. Drunkenly hobbling, you slid open the closet door and presented Taggie with numerous pink dresses — a heap of chiffon, lace, silk and cotton. As Taggie held each one up to her figure in front of the mirror, you chugged at your fizzing bottle of champagne and glared at her, alcohol seeping into your pulsating veins. “My Dad. Do you love him?” You interrogated, and feel slightly reprehensible as you observe Taggie’s melancholic manner. “No! Of course not.” She lied, cheeks rouging in flustered sorrow. “Are you lying?” You continued to question, handing her an intricately laced salmon-pink cocktail dress. Taggie didn’t reply — but began to peel the repulsive yellow fabric from her curvaceous body.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I’ve never seen him look at anybody like that before. So, Tag, my darling, we must shape you up. I will make it my life’s mission!” You exclaim, dashing to your vanity table and pulling out your makeup bag. Agatha will be your friend before she is your stepmother, you will make certain of it.

“Whatever way our stories end, I know you have rewritten mine by being my friend.”