#millie’s fishtank thoughts

[milliesfishes]

My new phone wallpaper

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ

౨ৎMillie’s Fishtank Thoughts:

Personas are built for protection. But once you see the blood on your hands from what someone who isn’t you has done, see that those in your life now believe the mask is your true face, you attempt to tear it down.

She was biting. She was mean at times. I did not like her, the things she said or did. But I had created her to flow so naturally among who I made her for. And she did. Now I am forced to scrub her mess.

But even though she was invented for the sole reason of fitting in, she still did not. And that hurts worst of all.

Slowly I began to unearth the girl from before, the one who was sweet and meek and kind. The one I had dismissed as not good enough for the space I occupied. It was not an easy task, as she did not want to be found.

Daisies bunched in her hand, ribbons in her hair, she tentatively stepped into the darkness I found myself in, shedding her light where I needed it. I began to become her again. When the other girl begins to bare her teeth, she refuses to fight. It is not her way. Someday her peace will overpower the quiet violence.

More than anything I desire her to. I want to be her again, the sweetest girl so full of love and light.

I have found her within me now, it is only a matter of making her want to stay.

[milliesfishes]

I learned what my name means tonight 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

[sun-dari]

i finished the first trigun manga and i have some thoughts:

before starting reading, i've heard someone say that tristamp has slowed down the pacing a lot compared to the original, and i thought it cannot possibly be true, the first part of this show moves so fast it's nearly incomprehensible. but it was completely accurate

i knew there was no way knives had actually died, but it was nice to get the confirmation that he's alive and reconstituting in a fishtank (or a lightbulb) somewhere

honestly, the pacing is so insane, the whole sequence of events from knives' first on-page appearance till the partial destruction (?) of the fifth moon takes up just over half a chapter

(though in this case it is probably the fault of the magazine)

i think rem is supposed to be the type of character who haunts the narrative but it isn't really working. also it seems like she's the entirety of vash's moral compass and character motivation, which is a perfectly reasonable way to write a protagonist but not really in this type of story

hardly anyone really feels like an actual character yet? especially meryl and milly. i blame the abysmal pacing

anyway. it might seem that i hated everything with a burning passion but i really didn't? though to be fair i have read this far mostly because i heard that trigun maximum gets much better, so i'm looking forward to that

[milliesfishes]

Love this 🫶🫶

Keeping Track

Coriolanus drags his finger to the bottom of the page that sits in front of him. The page that bores every single thing he has to pay for this month.

Because today is the last day of the month.

And on the last day of the month, bills are sent out and taxes are to be collected. So every month, Coriolanus tallies up all the expenses that he and his family have racked up.

There are obvious expenses, such as rent for their penthouse apartment, the water bill, the heating bill and the electric bill. Other things such as paying their staff are also to be expected. They also have a gardener who tends to the roses on the penthouse roof.

Other things like doctors visits, trips to the groomer for Petunia, and school fundraisers are also listed and ticked off the list.

But then the fun begins. Coriolanus gets the immense pleasure of going over every single thing his wife has purchased over the month. Had he not gone through the struggles of poverty after the war, he’s sure that he’d throw all caution to the wind and simply pay for everything without double checking. But because he knows what it’s like to be scrapping for coins to make his payments, he goes over every little thing.

No matter how tedious.

He stares down at the page that was sent in the mail, at the number listed at the very bottom, written in black ink is the total amount of money the Snow family owes.

And it’s a bit higher than usual.

A soft knock on the door to his study causes him to snap back into reality and he grunts, “Come in.”

The heavy wooden door swings open and he looks up to see his wife dressed in a very beautiful looking nightgown.

This one is white, silk with lace detailing.

Her hair is parted down the middle, cascading down her back and he can smell the vanilla from here.

“Must we go over this every month?” Soarynn asks with a sigh, closing the door behind her.

Coriolanus grins, “It’s a necessary evil darling. Are the children asleep?”

Soarynn nods, brushing her hair behind her ears, “They are. But I thought of a different way we might spend our evening instead of going over these dreadful expenses.”

Coriolanus leans back in his chair, spreading out his legs, “I’m all ears.”

Soarynn looks him up and down, her eyes lingering below his belt for a little too long to be mistaken as innocent. Over the years he’s learned that his wife had a certain fire that burns inside of her. And he loves to watch it roar to life in the bedroom.

“I thought you might come to bed,” she says, her voice breathy and seductive. She’s practically eye fucking him. Coriolanus chuckles and shakes his head, “Nice try. We have to go over these things my love. Now have a seat so we can get started.”

Soarynn frowns, looking over at the armchair that sits across from him on the other side of his desk, “I can’t sit with you?”

Normally Coriolanus would feel like a fool to deny her of such a thing. To make her sit anywhere but his lap is a mistake. But he’ll be a bigger fool if he allowed her to wiggle under his skin tonight in hopes of distracting him. He’s got to stay strong.

“No because then you’ll try to seduce me,” he nods at her risqué outfit, “I assure you that the seat I have offered is very comfortable.”

Soarynn scoffs but makes her way to the other side of the desk, sitting down with a huff while crossing her arms, “Let’s get this over with.”

“A wonderful idea darling.”

Coriolanus pulls out one of his many little notebooks he keeps for things like this and opens it to the most recent entry where he’s kept thorough track of every purchase made this month. Not that he doesn’t trust the Capitol records to be correct, but he feels much better about making his payments if he also keeps a record.

So every month, he pays a visit to the bank and walks up to the teller who hands over the Snow family’s bank statement.

Also known as the bane of Soarynn’s existence.

His darling wife loves to spend his money and he loves to watch her do it, but forcing her to take part in this little monthly ritual keeps her in line, keeps her reminded of who really pays the bills and pulls the strings.

He doesn’t think she’d ever run him dry, but this monthly overview is always a good way to keep her on her toes.

“Let’s see, our grocery bill was higher than usual.”

“Well, we hosted three dinner parties this month so that’s to be expected.”

Coriolanus nods, checking it off his list.

“We wrote a check to the Academy on the fourteenth, what did we buy this time?”

He looks up to find Soarynn actually in deep thought for once, trying to remember what she paid for.

“We bought the girls new skirts,” she says, “Ceraphina outgrew her old ones and Celeste…”

“Needs to be just like her big sister,” he finishes her sentence, marking it off. His youngest daughter Celeste has a habit of always wanting to be included, a trait Soarynn claims he gave to her. So when her big sister gets something, she gets something too.

“I see several large purchases at various departments stores,” he reads, cross checking with the bank statement to confirm, “one of the stores being a lingerie boutique.”

Soarynn gives him a smug look, “Well you have a habit of ripping my panties off of me, so I have to restock every once in a while.”

Coriolanus swallows, his eyes traveling down to her breasts for a moment before nodding, “Well let’s keep it to ‘every once in a while’ then shall we?”

Soarynn hums and gives him a look that means no good but he’s got to get through this list before she jumps him.

“I see that you also did some back to school shopping for the children,” he notes, “which is funny since they wear uniforms.”

Soarynn raises her eyebrows, rarely does he ever push back on purchases made for the children but this is a bit much since two of their three children attend school five days a week and wear the mandatory uniforms.

“The children should feel confident when they go to school. And the girls need things like shoes, bows for their hair, jewelry. Maybe you don’t understand it since you’re a man.”

Coriolanus scoffs and gives her a look, “I think you’re pushing it a bit.”

“I think you’re pushing me a bit,” she shoots back.

It’s a stand off but Coriolanus always wins. Soarynn can be feisty when she wants to be, but she’ll always be the more submissive one in the relationship, keeping the peace.

“As the head of this household, I’m allowed to push you once in a blue moon,” he reminds her. Coriolanus has worked hard to ensure that his wife and children have only known a life of luxury. He wakes up far too early and comes home far too late to be given this type of attitude.

Soarynn sits back in her chair, her stare lethal but her body langue relaxed, “What’s next on your little list?” She can make fun of his list all she wants, but Coriolanus knows how vital it is to make sure they stay afloat.

“Let’s see, oh, more of your expenses. Imagine my surprise. You made a large purchase from your dress maker on the twentieth, or did she just punch in the numbers incorrectly?”

Soarynn tilts her head, a more placid expression now on her face, “She didn’t mess up the numbers,” she says sweetly, “but you told me to get myself some new dresses for the upcoming season, remember darling?”

His words get stuck in his throat for a moment, “Yes I do. Good to see it all worked out.”

Coriolanus scans the rest of his list, the rest of the expenses being from things he bought and he sure as hell isn’t going to bring those up.

Coriolanus closes his book, tossing it back into the drawer he fished it out from, “There. We’re already done. Was that so hard?”

Soarynn nods, “Yes. Yes it was. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a nice, long shower.”

Coriolanus watches her stand up slowly, her dress riding up her thighs for a moment, letting him see that she’s not wearing any panties that little tease.

“Have fun with your paperwork,” she purrs while crossing the room, smirking at his slacked jaw when she opens the door.

Coriolanus keeps track of many things in his life. His work load. The children’s school schedule. His family’s expenses.

But his favorite thing to keep track of?

How many fucking orgasms he can give his wife.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[milliesfishes]

Blood Piece by Yoko Ono

[milliesfishes]

[milliesfishes]

[milliesfishes]

SO YEAH IM IM IM IM IM IM IM

꣑ৎ KIT THE SETUP FOR HIS CHARACTER IS SO GOOD like he matches the chitchats from the inbox SO WELL and ugh we got to see how well you write ocs with Sam but Jack is a complete flip from him and ITS SO GOOD YOUVE DONE SO AMAZING

꣑ৎ the way he STIFLES A SMILE FHAHHHH

꣑ৎ TEACHING YOU HOW TO DRINK THE WHISKEY OMG TALK ME THROUGH IT JACK

꣑ৎ “Show me, then,” he says, voice a little quieter. HOT HOT HOT

꣑ৎ UGH THE WAY HE KISSES MADE MY TUMMY FLIP SJDKFJFJFNFKFNKF

꣑ৎ “Don’t hurt yourself. Take what you can, it’s good enough,” he says through a rushed breath, a surprisingly tender feeling coursing through you when he rubs his thumb into your temple. IM GOING TO DIE

꣑ৎ “C’mon, pretty, just hurry up, make me cum, this needs to be over, c’mon,” Jack says, patting the back of your head a few times BUSINESSMAN FJDKDJJDKSKSJD NEED HIM

꣑ৎ OKAY SO LIKE THE WAY HES FLUSTERED AFTER ENFJFJDJDJDJDJDJDKD

Truly love this SO SO MUCH and this only makes me more excited for future Jack hehe I LOVE IT SO MUCH ONCE AGAIN YOURE AMAZING 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

oct. 20th - closing arguments

Jack Prescott x Intern!FemaleReader

mdni!!! wc; 4.1k cw; power play technically, age gap, blowjob

kinktober masterlist

jack is an oc! here is his fact sheet!

a/n; aha! the first jack fic :) love you all who have loved him since his creation this is for all of youuuuu

There is no way this day could get any worse. 

Jack prides himself on being able to handle high levels of stress. He would not have gotten through law school if he couldn’t. 

But every fiber of his being was being tested today. 

A meeting right as the clock struck eight was not always so bad, but when it was a horrid divorce case with a fumbling husband sobbing at Jack’s desk and blowing his nose into tissue after tissue, it got tiring quickly. Then of course a client cancelled last minute. This would sound like a good thing, but it sets Jack back a bit because this is the third time said client has rescheduled. 

And this time, he didn’t give a new date!

It’s a surprise Jack hasn’t popped open his liquor cabinet. 

Lunch was fine, but the leftover spaghetti he brought in tasted like a freezer burn. His afternoon became jam-packed. He expected it, yet it still caught him struggling to maintain his sanity. Between meetings, and dealing with an insolent co-worker who wrote up a report so incorrectly, Jack wondered if the guy was drunk, his secretary having to leave early, to the fact his damn computer keeps running slow…yeah. 

It was a bad day. 

Perhaps even worse, today was the day he scheduled overtime for half of the office. A little ‘bonding’ thing he learned from the law firm he worked at before having his own. He’d order dinner for everyone from a fancy place and everyone would get to know how one another works at nine p.m.

Perfect, right?

The dinner itself was okay. The food was good, which was a win in his book. Jack makes sure to jot down the restaurant name in his little notepad for future reference. The co-workers he scheduled for overtime were always on the cusp of complaining, but when he entered the room, they were all smiles and enjoying their heavy pasta. 

After food though, it was a time crunch until 10:30 when everyone could go home and Jack left everyone to their work to do his own. And maybe have some whiskey. He deserved it, didn’t he? 

That’s what he tells himself, at least. 

He stands from his desk and smooths his palms on the front of his slacks, walking the short distance to his liquor cabinet. He bends down to swat and opens it, taking out the glass and bottle that was mostly full. 

A knock on his office door almost startles the glass out of his hand and Jack puts both objects back into the cabinet. He straightens up, clearing his throat as he walks back to his desk, tugging the sleeve of his fitted dark green sweater, “Come in,” his voice rings out clear and loud to whoever is on the other side of the door, and he takes a seat in his chair. 

The door creaks open and you peek your head in first before pushing the door more open, “Uh, Mr. Prescott, can I speak with you a minute?”

The intern. You’ve been here for four months now, mostly doing the busy work of paralegals and assisting Mr. Prescott. Jack’s sure you’re the best intern he’s hired. He’s already started a draft for a recommendation letter (which you did and did not ask for, but more-so implied you would like at the end of your internship) and Jack feels quite good about your future prospects. Not that he cares too much, but it will be sad to lose you as a worker, the least he could do is help you in your next career journey. Right? 

Jack glances at the time, then over at you, leaning back in his chair, “Yeah, make it quick,” he says and you promptly walk in and close the door. 

Your palms already sweat at the fact you’re in here alone with him. Mostly because of what you need to talk about but also because it’s Jack Prescott. One of the top lawyers around the city. A bachelor. An incredibly handsome bachelor that looks like literal sex when he comes into work some days. It was torturous working for him and meeting his striking blue eyes when he held eye contact with you like he wanted you to feel it in the pit of your stomach. You did. You sure did, every single fucking time. 

You weren’t sure if he was aware of how hot he was. Or if he even thought about sex. Or if he dated. You gossiped with one of the only other women in the office about it one day, since you typically saw his calendar that included personal stuff like a lunch with his mother, doctor’s appointment, etc. But nothing on there seemed like a date. Your co-worker thinks he hooks up and that’s it, but even that you can’t get behind. The man is a mystery and good at keeping hismelf that way. 

You stop in front of his desk and pull at the hem of your skirt in a nervous tug, then open your mouth to speak, only to close it when he starts clicking at his keyboard. 

Jack takes a glance at you and gestures with his hand, “My apologies, just an email. One second.”

Jack types for another minute to finish the email, but it feels much longer than that. Much longer that you clasp your hands behind you and watch his fingers work at the keys in a manner so elegant. The metal of his watch glints off the light of his lamp at his desk. His overhead lights in his office are dimmed down, the city night skyline shining through his large windows behind him. 

His hair, which is usually slicked, has some strands out of place. Jack’s eyes are more tired and being his intern, you know the day’s been hectic. Part of you wants to ask if he’s doing okay, but his head is turning back to you and your words are caught in your throat. 

“Alright, go on,” he gestures once more with his hand to you, leaning back in his desk chair, one hand resting on his desk, the other dropping to his thigh. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow it before looking into his eyes. 

“Right, well two things uh,” you pause, shifting on your feet, “One, George messed up the printer somehow so-”

“The printer?” Jack’s brow immediately furrows and you want to smooth out the lines so bad it makes you heat up. You should not be thinking that way. 

“Yeah, I don’t know specifically what’s wrong with it but-”

“So you don’t know the specifics and you still came to me?” Jack interrupts again and you feel that urge to shrivel at his tone. 

“I thought it best that you know right away sir-Mr. Prescott,” you get out your words as calm as you can, keeping your voice level and your gaze on him. You learned it from him. To not cower. 

Jack gives one nod, his jaw setting and a hand swiping to his jaw. He taps his fingers to it, then says, “Is it gonna set us back then? I don’t have anything to print and IT won’t be able to help until Monday.”

“George still had like four copies to print and Rosie said she needed it too,” you tell him, unable to avoid the hesitancy in your voice. 

Because Jack does rub to his face again in semi-annoyance, “Can anyone try to fix it?” 

“Don’t think so.”

“Great. Thanks. What else do you need then?” He says flippantly, tugging at his sweater to fix it, and your eyes naturally follow the movement. 

The slight bite in his voice makes you very hesitant to ask him your question, but you steel yourself, squeezing your hands together, “I know it’s last minute but I need to take off on Monday and I know-”

Jack raises his hand to stop you from speaking and then runs his hand through hair. Gods he must be stressed. Annoyed. If he’s gonna mess up his hair like that. In front of you. 

“I did need you, Monday. That big client from SoHo is coming, thought you knew that.”

“I did! I did, but…,” you take a breath, “I have my like…last exam of college ever on Tuesday and I just need to study and relax and y’know it’s obviously super important and-”

“Okay,” he interrupts. He has a penchant for that tonight. “Fine. Take the day, but I’m not rescheduling with that client, so it’s your loss,” Jack tells you with a shrug, a look on his face saying he’s slightly disappointed but he’s not gonna harp on it much longer. 

The look does not make you feel any better, but you let out a deep exhale and nod to him, “Yeah, okay, thank you, Mr. Prescott, really.”

Jack’s voice is quick, almost sharp, “Don’t thank me.”

You nod again, albeit a little more awkwardly this time. A moment of silence befalls the two of you and you find yourself smoothing your skirt. 

You’re about to turn on your heel to leave his office, when he stands up, eyeing you up and down with a curious gaze, “You good? You look stressed.”

“Oh, just long day and the exams,” you say with a half-hearted chuckle, watching him closely as he stalks over towards his bookshelf. 

Jack gives a hum, then leans down to his cabinet, contemplating what he’s about to do. He shouldn’t. He knows that. But it’s close to closing. And you look as tired and stressed as he is. There’s no harm in it. He grabs the whiskey bottle he was pining for earlier and two glasses, “Do you drink?”

His question catches you off guard, but you nod, “Uh, yeah.”

Jack sets the glasses down, then looks to his office door, and back to you, popping open the bottle, “It’s whiskey. Keep this between us, I’m not sharing with the lot,” he gestures towards the door. 

A nervous tingle runs up your spine as you watch him pour the liquid into the two glasses, glancing from his hands to his face, which has a look of concentration and something else in it. 

He walks closer to hand you your glass, your fingertips brushing his as you take it from him. You’re not sure if he also felt what you felt, but you push it to the further recesses of your mind. 

You look down at the liquid in your glass as he leans back against the edge of his desk, sipping the whiskey. His eyes are on you, you know they are. You’ve sipped wine in front of him before, so what was so different about this? 

The dimmed office lights? The fact that your coworkers were probably packing up to leave? The fact he even offered a drink in the first place?

He breaks you from your thoughts, “Do you know how to drink it? The whiskey?”

You’ve not had it before. But even if you did no, you say no. 

Jack hums, “Small sip. Swish it in your mouth a little, then swallow,” then he does it himself to demonstrate. It’s pure desire what you feel when you watch him sip. How his eyes stay on yours over the rim of his glass and his free hand pushes into the pocket of his slacks. Everything about him right now is so at ease and sexy. 

You nod, and take a small sip of the drink, only swishing it in your mouth for a second, before you swallow it and grimace, “Oh…wow.”

Jack stifles his smile. Smile. He shakes his head, clearing his throat, “Yeah, it’s…you don’t have to drink all of it.”

“I won’t,” you chuckle, walking closer to him so you could put it on his desk. The lack of hesitance in your action to come over close to him has him straightening up just a little. You pause at the movement though, looking at your whiskey. “Maybe one more sip.” 

Jack lets himself chuckle. A breath of a chuckle, “It gets you.”

With your eyes on his, you sip, swish it, and swallow, trying to hide your grimace. Jack sets his glass down, then takes yours, his thumb ever so slightly brushing the tip of your thumb. He puts the glass down and maybe this is when you should move away from him but your feet feel stuck to the floor, admiring him up closer in the dim light. 

Jack doesn’t know what he’s doing either. He’s yelling at himself internally to dismiss you. He still had some work to do. But you’re there. Pretty in your work attire. Pretty. He shouldn’t think of that. 

He clears his throat and crosses his arms to his chest, “You should…head back to work and all. Think you got like 15 more minutes.”

Jack could never admit to himself he found his intern attractive. You were younger than him and again, his intern. So he avoided those thoughts like the plague, but you standing right here in front of him while you’re both tired was not helping. 

Jack picks his whiskey glass back up as you give the slightest nod, but make no move to go. “Yeah…have…some work…,” you trail off, “question?”

He raises his brow, sipping a very small sip, then he says, “Yes?”

“Just wanted to know for that uh…what that lawyer gala thing you have to go to-”

He rolls his eyes, “Yes, what about it?”

“Are you bringing your girlfriend as the plus one or?”

You don’t know what’s come over you and you know deeply how wrong this could go but you can’t stop. Not when he’s looking like this and you can smell his cologne. Fuck has it been that long of a day? 

“Girlfriend? I don’t have one,” he says, a confused look etched onto his face. 

“Oh? I thought maybe…,” you stop yourself, then say, “Well, I know you’ll have the extra ticket and I know you took Ethel last year because she mentioned it like five times to me but maybe I could go with you?”

Jack takes a second to study your face, like he thinks you’re lying about what you truly want to say, but he doesn’t press. “Yeah, maybe. It’s near the end of your internship, so it could be a good way to close it out.”

You take a mindless step closer to him, a genuine smile on your lips. You didn’t give a fuck about that gala but the idea of attending with him all dressed up certainly made you feel good. Your breath feels heavier as the two of you look at one another. 

Jack notes the step and you swear you see his eyes glance to your legs, “What’re you doing?”

You falter at the question, taking a small step back, “Nothing, Mr. Prescott.”

Jack tilts his head at you. God, he’s thinking so hard. You can practically see the gears turning in his head working overtime and you’re trying not to rub your thighs together and make it more obvious what you’re feeling. 

“Think maybe I do want another sip of whiskey,” you joke, but mean it, to break the silence. 

He huffs, a slight smile curving his pretty lips, “Come get it, then.”

You swallow. Then take the steps closer, reaching your hand to the side of him to take the glass. Maybe you purposely brush your arm to him. Maybe it wasn’t on purpose. 

When you take a small sip, your eyes find his once more. He’s so tall. And you almost catch how he’s gazing over well, all of you. “Come closer,” he says, a hint quieter, like he didn’t mean to say the words aloud, but you surely heard him. 

You listen and do so, to his surprise, but he sets his glass down, then reaches his hand out for your glass, taking it in his hand. 

He parts his lips to speak, then hesitates. Jack glances to his office door, then back to you. 

Thinking. Thinking. Thinking. Until, “Open your mouth a little.”

Your eyes widen immediately and you can tell he’s about to rescind his words, but you do it. You open your mouth for him and pray that it’s not so deplorable that he scoffs and kicks you out. 

Jack swallows hard, his jaw tightening and he brings the lip of the glass your mouth, pouring just a bit of the whiskey into your mouth, then nudging under your chin with his fingers to close your mouth. You obey the action, letting the lliquid swirl in your mouth before you swallow and he puts the glass down, fingers still to your chin. 

His eyes bore into your eyes. Fucking thinking and surrounding themselves with intent. “Open…open again.”

How could you refuse?

When your mouth parts the slightest bit, Jack’s bringing his mouth in close. An embarrassing noise leaves your lips at the action and your hand holds to his wrist. 

Jack stares intensely at you, “Just…just go…back and do your work,” he whispers, his breath hitting your lips, “I shouldn’t…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence and you finish it for him, “No, you shouldn’t do this.”

Your eyes tell him a different story. The way you squeeze to his wrist and not once glance away from him tells him you’re not uncomfortable. You’re not leaving his space, you move closer until he can feel the brush of your chest to his. 

Jack doesn’t know what’s come over him, but his breath shudders and he pools the saliva in his mouth, the slowly spits onto your bottom lip into your mouth, before crashing his lips to yours. 

It’s a rough, messy kiss, as though Jack is starving for the feel of your lips on his. Like he wants them melded to him and imprinted for a long time. Your tongue slides his bottom lip and sucks on it, which is when he breaks the kiss and lets go of you, walking straight to his office door to lock it, before he’s coming back over to you, scratching a hand at his head, “You should go, I-”

“Mr. Prescott, it’s-”

He groans at the title you give him, granted the one you always call him and his hands are bringing your head closer, kissing you once more. He ends up leaned against the edge of his desk again with you pressing yourself into his fit body, taking the opportunity to slide your hands on his arms and his chest, to feel the muscle you’ve somewhat seen but knew he had. 

Jack is lost in it, clearly still fighting with himself, but also leaning into the way you suck and bite at his lips. His hands move down your body, caressing your hip and keeping you pulled in close to him. 

When you pull for a breath, his eyes are dazed and his lips much redder. You can’t think. All you can do is slip down till you’re on your knees in front of him.

Jack curses to himself, looks away from you for a moment before looking back down to you, “I can’t come back from this.”

“I’m an intern for one more month,” you say, like that makes it any better, but god does he look good from this angle.

He doesn’t like that answer, but he drops his hand to his belt to undo it, his other hand in your hair, “Have you done this before?”

“Gone down on a guy?” 

He nods, putting his belt on his desk, quickly looking to his door before looking back at you.

“Yeah, I have,” you admit to him, watching his fingers undo the button of his slacks. 

“Okay. So, you know what you’re doing?” 

You nod, eyes glued to his fucking hand, unzipping his slacks and pushes them down just a little, “Show me, then,” he says, voice a little quieter. 

You waste no time, tugging to his boxers before he could do it, exposing him in his office. There’s no time to think about how this is your boss’ cock, it’s just Jack, you tell yourself in the moment. You spits into your palm and ignore the way his hand tightens to your head, wrapping your fingers to him. 

You give him a few languid strokes to help him harden, a low groan leaving his lips before he clears his throat, “Don’t tease, right now, we can’t…it’s gotta be-”

“I know, Mr. Prescott,” you interrupt him this time, giving his tip one small lick. Jack bites to his cheek, watching you intently. 

You open your mouth a little and let the head of his cock rest on your tongue, your free hand holding to his thigh. 

“Fuck,” he says under his breath, resisting his urge to push himself all the way into your mouth. You wrap your lips to him and take more of his cock into your mouth, humming around him.

“That’s it,” he mutters, watching as you try to take more of him and immediately realize you can’t. Jack shakes his head at you, “Can’t take more of it?”

He’s just big and thick. Jack fills your mouth and it feels good to have the weight on your tongue. You bob your head on what you can fit, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking him hard to get the ball rolling since the quicker this is, the better. For now. 

Jack is good at keeping quiet, but his heavy breaths and curses right under his breath make you want to escalate this to something more than you simply sucking his cock. 

When you try to take him more into your mouth, your throat constricts and you gag, closing your eyes and breathing deeply through your nose. 

“Don’t hurt yourself. Take what you can, it’s good enough,” he says through a rushed breath, a surprisingly tender feeling coursing through you when he rubs his thumb into your temple. Once the feeling passes, you continue to work him, using your other hand to stroke what you can’t fit in your mouth. 

You know Jack likes it, even with your eyes closed, because his hand tightens to your head and he lets out a shakier breath. The Jack Prescott with a shaky breath is something you couldn’t imagine but here he was. 

“You’re so fucking good,” he whispers, the volume of his voice just enough for you to hear, but not too loud, “Really taking it, huh…this is fucked up,” he groans at himself then swallows his noises, his hand moving to the back of your head. 

“C’mon, pretty, just hurry up, make me cum, this needs to be over, c’mon,” Jack says, patting the back of your head a few times and you move faster, the slick of your spit on his cock making the most noise in the room, but you hope it can’t be heard outside of it. You pull back, only to swirl your tongue on his tip and suck on the sensitive head, your hand jerking him in quick motions

“Almost, almost,” Jack warns you, his chest breathing heavy and his hand pressing more into your head as you focus mostly on his tip, sucking it over and over again. You flatten your tongue to it, then open your mouth and slap his cock to your tongue, a desperate move to turn him on as much as possible and have him cumming down your throat.

The action does have an affect on him. Jack’s breath sutters and he pushes your head to take more of him, “what the fuck,” he whispers to himself as he tips his head back, putting his arm over his mouth and lets out a muffled, but strangled groan.

His load shoots into your mouth, coating your tongue in it’s salty sweet taste and you moan around him, swallowing every drop he give you and eagerly licking at any that beads out of his tip as he finishes. 

Jack takes his cock out of your mouth and pulls his boxers up, followed by his slacks and his quickness makes you stand. You weren’t even touched yet you feel wobbly on your feet.

He stares at you as he fumbles with his belt, “Uh…I think you better get home, it’s uh…it’s time.”

Jack clears his throat, shaking his head and trying to forget what just happened as you stand there dumbfounded.

“Um…Mr. Prescott-”

“Go home,” he repeats himself, his tone more stern than he means to come off. He smooths at his slacks and moves around his desk to sit in his chair, moving the mouse of his desktop to turn the screen on. 

“Work…on Wednesday?”

He glances at you. A blank stare coating his face. “Yeah. Work on Wednesday. 9 am. Good luck on the exam.”

You nod and turn, wiping at your mouth as you walk straight to his door, messing with the lock and leaving him alone in his office.

[milliesfishes]

this is a pic Alex would take of you

[milliesfishes]

art historyyyy with millieeeee

[milliesfishes]

does my professor who corrected my word choice on my last paper not know I am a critically acclaimed fanfiction writer

[milliesfishes]

SAFI I READ THIS THREE TIMES IM OBSESSED SERIOUSLY AHHHHHJJJHH him leaving the lipstick mark, protecting her from the crowds, GRINDING ON HIM ILL KMS FJDKDJJFJGJGJGJFJFHDHSJDJDJGJFJJ THIS IS AMAZING I LOVE IT

.𖥔 ๋.•⋆ such a wonderful, wild party ⋆•. ๋𖥔.

modern!racing au in partnership with @phantomamor for their countdown to the abu dhabi grand prix! check out their incredible fic here

william h bonney x reader

warnings: drinking, grinding, etc.

The time since the race had been a whirlwind of press and congratulations and stolen kisses in the in-betweens, but finally Billy had been returned to you, sweat cooled sticky on his skin and eyes bright with lingering adrenaline. The second-place win and double podium for Ferrari had left him giddy and giggly, planting kisses on your nose-cheeks-forehead before you catch his face in a fit of laughter.

"My beautiful, talented boy," you murmur, smoothing your thumbs over his flushed cheeks. His curls are plastered to his forehead at the front and sticking up from pulling off his balaclava after the race. He turns his head to kiss your palm, then noses at the skin there.

"Thank you for being here." His voice buzzes against the heart line in your hand. "I'm better when you're watching."

It's so easy when he's on the track, tearing around corners and boxing out competitors, to forget the sweet boy who curls around you like a comma every night he can; who will burst out with phrases so genuine that it makes your heart feel like it's going to fizz up and out of your throat.

But that's hard to put into words, here where the air is heavy and hot and still thick with the smell of engine fuel and burning rubber. Instead, you squeeze his face gently.

"Sap."

"You love it."

"I love you."

Billy beams, nose crinkling. "I love you too."

Back at the hotel, the first thing he does is shower, scrubbing off the scent of car and sweat and chemical-coated clothing. It's rare that you join him in these showers unless the race was particularly difficult; his focus is strictly on stripping his skin of the day and he takes the time to let the adrenaline wane.

When he emerges, he's in clean shorts and no shirt, his skin still slightly damp from his shower. You're stretched out in bed reading, which Billy takes as invitation to nudge under your book to lay between your legs with his head pillowed on your chest.

"Hey," you laugh. "You smell good."

"They have really nice soap," he mumbles, his voice already half-asleep. "Going out tonight?"

"Do you want to? We don't have to."

He shifts to balance his chin on your sternum, his lips squished into a pout. "I want to. I'll be less sleepy once we're out."

You push your hands through his hair at the temples, twisting the curls around your fingers to cradle his head.

"Then I have to get ready, lemme up."

"You look perfect like this," Billy replies, snaking his arms around your ribs and under your body, hands squished under you and splayed against your back. Still dressed from the race, you do look nice, you know that much, but you're far from dressed for a nightclub.

With one final firm squeeze, though, he does let you up. You dig through your suitcase for your makeup and something to wear out, disappearing into the bathroom to get ready. You leave the door open intentionally, watching as Billy putters around the hotel room in a haze to find an outfit. He slips in behind you just as you're finishing up, threading his arms around your waist.

"You ready?" He asks.

You turn in his arms to look at him, a hand braced against his chest. He's dressed in dark jeans and a patterned button-down that's so lightweight that it's slightly translucent, and he's neglected the top three or so buttons. He plays with the hem of your top when he notices you staring.

"My eyes are up here, darlin'," he quips.

"Who says I was trying to look at your eyes?" You shoot back, but your gaze drifts upwards to look at the way the corners of his eyebrows draw down when he smiles.

With a kiss to his cheek and a subsequent reapplication of your lipstick (he denies your offer to smudge off the rouge print you've left on his face), you're out the door into the sticky night air. Billy keeps a hand in yours as you walk to the nightclub - occasionally, past a group of particularly rowdy tourists or the like, he'll curl you into his side under a protective arm. Once in the nightclub, you're free to stare at the way the neon lights dye his hair with the rainbow shine of the oil in water on the tracks, his light eyes reflecting the multi-colored glow.

"We should dance!"

You have to shout to be heard over the heavy thrum of the bass. Even with your volume, he has to dip his ear to your mouth to hear you.

"I'm going to get a drink first," he shouts back. "You go, I'll be right there!"

Billy is possessive, though not in a weird way - just, you're his girl, but he's not going to restrict you in any capacity. Even so, you stay in his sightline when you head to the dance floor - it makes you feel safer, regardless of if he cares. You can feel his gaze weighty on you as you sway to the beat of the music. The press of bodies is dizzying but in a good way. It's a strange unity, not a single person worried about what the person next to them is doing. There's the swipe of a hand on your waist, but it's not Billy.

"Hey, baby," the man says, his voice humid against your ear. You can smell the alcohol on his breath. "Dance with me, huh?"

You take a stumbling step as far from him as you can, which isn't far at all. "Oh, I'm okay, thank...thank you."

"Nah, hey, c'mon! A girl like you, looking like that shouldn't be dancing alone. Just one song."

"No, really, I'm waiting on-"

"Hey, man," Billy cuts in, looping his arm around your shoulders. "I'm gonna steal my girlfriend from you, if you don't mind."

The guy raises his hands in a placating gesture. "Shit, dude, I didn't know. My bad."

"All good." His expression says it's not particularly good, but he's not going to start something for no reason.

The intruder disappears back into the crush of clubgoers and Billy swings you around to face him, one hand on your waist while you hook yours around the back of his neck.

"Sorry about that, baby," Billy says, dropping a kiss to your hair. "You okay?"

You nod. "You cut in pretty quickly, he didn't do anything."

Leaning forward, you muffle your next comment into his shirt. "You were hot."

Billy reaches up with a free hand, draws you out of his shoulder. "What'd you say, pretty? Can't hear for shit in here."

You stand on your tiptoes to speak into his ear. "I said it was hot, what you did."

Over the last minute or so, he's drawn you closer to himself so that you're more dancing on him than with him, every angle of his body pressed against every curve of yours.

"Kinda the bare minimum, pretty, but I'll take it," he murmurs, just loud enough to be audible. Your hips are right against his and you take a change in song as opportunity to turn so your back is to his chest. His hand drops to your hip as you start to move with the music, burying a groan in the crook of your neck.

"Baby, honey, fuck," he bites out after a while, his hands twisted in your skirt so tightly that it rucks up a little. "You gotta slow up, or we're going to have to leave."

"Two more songs," you bargain, still moving in time with the music. "Then we can go back to the hotel and you can do whatever you want."

[milliesfishes]

𝓜𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓮'𝓼 𝓛𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓡𝓮𝓬𝓼!

Okayokayokay, here are some of my recs for reading- I have a mix of genres but they are all mainly the same vibe haha

𝓟𝓸𝓮𝓽𝓻𝔂: 100 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓽𝓼 (𝓟𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓸 𝓝𝓮𝓻𝓾𝓭𝓪) 𝓢𝔂𝓵𝓿𝓲𝓪 𝓟𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓱 𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓟𝓸𝓮𝓶𝓼 (𝓢𝔂𝓵𝓿𝓲𝓪 𝓟𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓱) 𝓕𝓾𝓵𝓵 𝓦𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓕𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓱𝓵𝔂 𝓐𝓹𝓹𝓵𝓮 𝓗𝓸𝓽 𝓜𝓸𝓸𝓷 (𝓟𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓸 𝓝𝓮𝓻𝓾𝓭𝓪)

𝓜𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓲𝓻𝓼:

𝓘'𝓶 𝓖𝓵𝓪𝓭 𝓜𝔂 𝓜𝓸𝓶 𝓓𝓲𝓮𝓭 (𝓙𝓮𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮 𝓜𝓬𝓒𝓾𝓻𝓭𝔂)

𝓔𝓵𝓿𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓜𝓮 (𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓬𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓪 𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓵𝓮𝔂)

𝓣𝓸 𝓢𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓪 𝓦𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 (𝓒𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼 𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓮𝔃)

𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓬𝓼:

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽 𝓖𝓪𝓽𝓼𝓫𝔂 (𝓕. 𝓢𝓬𝓸𝓽𝓽 𝓕𝓲𝓽𝔃𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓵𝓭)

𝓡𝓮𝓫𝓮𝓬𝓬𝓪 (𝓓𝓪𝓹𝓱𝓷𝓮 𝓭𝓮 𝓜𝓪𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓻)

𝓐 𝓕𝓪𝓻𝓮𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓸 𝓐𝓻𝓶𝓼 (𝓔𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓗𝓮𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔀𝓪𝔂)

𝓡𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓸 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓽 (𝓦𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓶 𝓢𝓱𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓮)

𝓐𝓷𝓲𝓶𝓪𝓵 𝓕𝓪𝓻𝓶 (𝓖𝓮𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓮 𝓞𝓻𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓵)

𝓐𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓮'𝓼 𝓐𝓭𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓦𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓭 (𝓛𝓮𝔀𝓲��� 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓵)

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓙𝓪𝓻 (𝓢𝔂𝓵𝓿𝓲𝓪 𝓟𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓱)

𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓶𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓻𝔂:

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓻 𝓘 𝓣𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 (𝓙𝓮𝓷𝓷𝔂 𝓗𝓪𝓷)

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓖𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓻 (𝓛𝓸𝓲𝓼 𝓛𝓸𝔀𝓻𝔂)

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓥𝓲𝓻𝓰𝓲𝓷 𝓢𝓾𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓼 (𝓙𝓮𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓔𝓾𝓰𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓼)

𝓝𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 (𝓙𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓪 𝓗𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼)

𝓓𝓪𝓲𝓼𝔂 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓲𝔁 (𝓣𝓪𝔂𝓵𝓸𝓻 𝓙𝓮𝓷𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓼 𝓡𝓮𝓲𝓭)

𝓓𝓸𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓭 𝓠𝓾𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓐𝓷𝓷𝓮 (𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓵𝔂𝓷 𝓜𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓻)

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓗𝓾𝓼𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓵𝔂𝓷 𝓗𝓾𝓰𝓸 (𝓣𝓪𝔂𝓵𝓸𝓻 𝓙𝓮𝓷𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓼 𝓡𝓮𝓲𝓭)

𝓟𝓸𝓸𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 (𝓐𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓭𝓪𝓲𝓻 𝓖𝓻𝓪𝔂)

𝓞𝓾𝓻 𝓒𝓱𝓮𝓶𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓼 (𝓚𝓻𝔂𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓵 𝓢𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓭)

𝓑𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼 (𝓙𝓾𝓵𝓲𝓪 𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓷𝓷)

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓪𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓫𝓲𝓻𝓭𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓢𝓷𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓼 (𝓢𝓾𝔃𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓮 𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓼)

[milliesfishes]

[milliesfishes]

Allegory of Sight (Jan Brueghel the Elder and Peter Paul Rubens)