#seltzer because water is good

[withahappyrefrain]

Unraveled- Bob Floyd

Summary: Bob Floyd likes to think he can keep it cool. Then along comes a sundress.

Warnings: friends to lovers, smut, so much pining, language,

Bob Floyd didn't like to brag, but he considered himself pretty dang smart and sensible. 

He knew the ins and outs of every jet he has flown. Hell,  he could break it apart and put it back together again within a few hours, if that.  He was able to quickly assess a situation, weigh the pros and cons, and come to a sound decision. It’s why he was the top WSO for the mission in Miramar. 

So why has a piece of fabric thrown him for such a loop? 

All Bob was trying to do was be polite. You had mentioned taking an Uber to the Hard Deck tonight and Bob knew the polite thing to do was to offer a ride. After all, he wasn't going to drink. You would save money. It's what any good friend would do. It had absolutely nothing to do with the crush he had been harboring since your first debriefing. 

He was just trying to be courteous. The gentleman his Mama worked hard in raising. Getting to spend time with you, without the other members of your shared squadron around or loud music, wasn't even near the forefront of his mind when he made the offer. Bob was just trying to be a good friend. A good friend who just wanted to help. A good friend who was forcing himself to look at you through a platonic lens, not a romantic one. 

Bob liked to think he was doing pretty well at that. 

That is, until a dress came along and unraveled him. 

Perhaps you said hello when you opened the door.  You probably did, considering how polite you were. But all Bob could focus on was the way the fabric of your dress hugged your curves. 

And what little fabric there was. He had seen you in civilian clothes before. But never anything like this. His mind absolutely went blank when you hugged him and he could feel how much of your bare skin was exposed. Due to the halter style of the straps, nearly your whole upper back was now perfectly visible.

“Um you-you look um nice,” Bob barely got out. He was too busy trying to burn the feeling of your soft skin into his brain. You were warm, like a walking ray of sunshine. 

“Thanks! I got it yesterday and I figured with the weather being so nice, today was the perfect day to wear it!” you said, giving a little twirl. Bob tried to focus on the pattern of dress; how the green brought out your eyes. 

But all he could focus on was the curves of your body, now being highlighted. The way the halter style made your breasts swell and the lack of a bra very apparent. How the fabric stopped at the top of your thighs when you spun, giving Bob a peek of what he often thought about late at night. 

This was bad. 

“I take it you came early to watch an episode of Love Island before we leave?” You asked as he stumbled walked in.

The truth was, Bob wasn’t a fan of reality TV. But he watched because it gave the two of you a chance to talk to one another. Just as friends, nothing more. When watching the silly show, you two could make jokes, talk about things other than work. 

“Yeah! Ready to watch hot people make poor decisions again,” Bob said with a nervous laugh. The joke failed to put him at ease. If anything, it reminded him that he was about to spend at least forty minutes with you and that did not include the drive to the Hard Deck. 

“You’re using my tagline!” your smile lit up your whole face. Bob was certain it could light up the whole turmac. All he could do was nod, his heart fluttering when you grabbed his hand, leading him into the living room. 

"I have some kettle corn in the microwave for you! I also made cherry seltzer water!" Bob could feel heat rush to his face. You always remembered the little details that no one else seemed to pick up on; that he loved salt but had an even bigger sweet tooth. How in an attempt to cut back on soda, he switched to sparkling water. His favorite flavor was cherry because it reminded him of cherry coke. 

"Did you see the video I sent you?" You gently squeezed Bob's hand as you two sat down. 

"Y-yeah. You're absolutely right, having three otters would be my dream." Ever since learning about Bob's favorite animal, you had sent him every otter-related video you came across while scrolling the internet. You even got him a pair of Otter socks for his birthday.  It was the fact you paid attention to seemingly minor details that made Bob fall head over heels for you. 

But alas, you were a coworker. The problem at hand wasn't whether it was allowed, ‘incest’ (as Jake unfortunately called it) happened all the time in the Navy. After all, there were only so many things you could do on a ship before switching to people. No, it was the potential issues that came with dating. Rejection being the main one. Bob had no trouble believing you and he could be professional should you two date and it not work out. That happened all the time. What worried him was rejection. Having to go to work everyday and put on a facade, that things were fine. When deep down, he knew he'd be heartbroken. And even worse, he'd no longer have your friendship. 

So Bob settled, as he often did when it came to love. He took comfort knowing he'd still have you, albeit as a friend instead of a partner. That should be more than enough. For the last few months, he had convinced himself that it was enough. 

But God was it difficult when you bent over right to grab the remote. 

The hemline of your dress inched upwards, showing off the backs of your upper thighs and- 

he could see the swell of your ass. He could see the flash of red lace. Your skin looked so soft and supple and you were so close he could just reach out and- 

Oh God he was hard. Oh no. 

This was bad. Worse than that time he popped an erection during sex ed in middle school. There, he at least had a jacket and a desk to cover it. 

But here? He was a full grown adult and San Diego’s seventy degree weather didn't give him any additional layers. Bob looked around, desperate for something, anything, to hide his cock that was currently straining against his jeans. 

Thank fuck for your love of decorative pillows. 

He grabbed the closest one, shaped and designed like a pomegranate. You were so excited the day you picked it up from some Facebook Marketplace deal. He had driven you, partly out of wanting to spend time with you, partly because he wanted to ensure you were safe. It was adorable and definitely shouldn’t be used for nefarious purposes, such as hiding a boner. This was wrong, so fucking wrong.   

Bob was trying to think of anything and everything that would kill this boner. But his spot on the couch aligned perfectly with the entranceway of the kitchen, where you currently were, rummaging around to fix Bob a drink. 

What ever happened to doors? Why were people so opposed to doors? Doors were lovely. You could close doors. Every time he tried to think of something, you were right in his line of view, turning every thought into something more devious. 

His family? His family would love you. If you two got married you could make  your own family. 

Work? You worked with him, in that damn flight suit that clung to your every curve. No one else could make that god forsaken green fabric look good.  

School? God, you were so smart. The top of your class. And witty, always ready with a clever, underhanded comeback. It’s how you two originally bonded, both having muttered something about Jake under your breath. 

Bob Floyd was screwed. Thoroughly. 

He tried to comfort himself with the fact that soon you two would be watching people in their early twenties making the dumbest decisions over dating. If anything were to be a boner killer, that had to be it. He just needed to make it through then. 

“Bob?” Your lithe voice broke him out of his thoughts. Not that it was much of a reprieve, with the way you were standing at the kitchen entranceway with a glass of sparkling water in each hand, “You good?”

“Me? Oh yeah, I’m great!” He said with an all too eager nod, desperate to convince you this was truly the case. Fuck, you were so beautiful. And you were showing so much skin. He had seen you on the beach before, adorned in athletic shorts and a sports bra. But this was different. 

The dress was far too nice for the Hard Deck. No, you deserved to be taken to a nice restaurant, one with a lovely outdoor patio. The image of you sitting on a lovely chair with a glass of wine in your hand came easily to Bob. It was also the perfect dress for a picnic, particularly at the nearby park, specifically in that little secluded area. God, the idea of you laying down on a red and white checkered blanket, the hem of your dress pushed up your thighs as he leaned over you, ready to take you-

Bob leaned forward, clutching the pillow as he tried to will himself the strength to get it together. 

“Bob? Are-are you okay?” You quickly placed the drinks down on the coffee table, rushing over to kneel in front of him on the couch. 

Oh what a sight that was, you looking up at him with big eyes, full of concern. Your hands were on his biceps, and Bob knew if he looked down he would have the perfect view of your breasts. 

 It was so hot and also the very last thing Bob fucking needed. 

“I’m good. Stomach doesn’t agree with what we had for lunch, that’s all.” Lying was never good, his mother instilled that in him at an early age. But in this scenario, Bob was certain the truth was much worse. 

“I’ll go get you a ginger ale!” Bob opened his mouth to protest, though no words came out due to seeing not only the tops of your thighs, but a flash of your ass as you spun around to go back into the kitchen. 

For a few seconds, the  supple, plump flesh was so close to him. Practically within arm’s reach. 

Maybe he should just leave while you were in the kitchen. 

But that would be rude. Not only rude, but it would raise your suspicions if they weren’t high already. Plus, he had already promised you a ride to the Hard Deck. He couldn’t just leave you hanging, not after you brought a dress for the occasion. He may be in dire need of a cold shower, but the last thing Bob Floyd was going to do was hurt you. He squeezed the pillow, knuckles turning white as he tried to find strength. For once, he couldn’t wait to start an episode of Love Island. Hell, he would even take an episode of The Bachelor at this point. 

“Here ya go,” You sat down on the couch next to him, glass of ginger ale in hand. You even remembered how much ice he preferred in his cold beverages. You were perfect. 

“Thanks,” Bob slowly took one hand off the pillow, the other still holding onto it for dear life. 

“You uh, like that pillow?” You chuckled, though your nerves still shined through. 

“Huh? Oh yeah,” Bob looked down, ensuring his big problem was still covered, “It uh, helps my stomach!”

You raised an eyebrow, though you didn’t further question it. Instead, much to Bob’s delight, you reached for the remote, clicking through until you finally landed on the desired episode. With a shaking hand, Bob gulped down the ginger ale, promptly placing it on the coffee table so he could have both hands on the pillow. 

The room was silent, saved for the ridiculous conversations happening on the TV screen. Normally you and Bob would be shoulder to shoulder, laughing as you both narrated your opinions on the contestants. But today Bob was rigid, his fingers still clutching to the pillow on his lap. He hadn’t even touched the bowl of popcorn. 

"Do you like my dress?" It took everything in Bob not to groan at your question. The last thing he needed was a reason to look at you. But how could he deny himself such a chance? So he put on his best smile as he turned to face you.    

"Uh yeah it's lovely. I'm sure everyone will love it-" 

"I got it for you.” Your voice was soft as you hit the pause button on your remote, eyes remaining on the screen. 

The words hit Bob like a freight train. 

"What? Why would you-"

You shrugged, fingers toying with the short hem of your dress, "I thought maybe, if you saw me in something different, something that wasn't my flight suit or a tee shirt, that maybe you would finally notice me?” 

You finally looked him in the eyes, “Maybe you'd finally notice that I've been trying to flirt with you for the last few months?" 

Bob opened his mouth just to promptly close it. He thought back to the last few months, now analyzing every seemingly ordinary interaction he had with you. 

The way you insisted on sitting next to each other during lunch. As well as during briefings. And when you went to the Hard Deck. Whenever a guy tried to flirt with you there, you turned them down, focusing your attention back on him, continuing your conversation about his latest D&D campaign or a Lego set you had found that reminded you of him. The way you always touched his arm, your hand lingering on his skin as you bore your eyes into his. How you always texted him. How you baked a cake for his birthday. The little trinkets you’d bring him. 

Oh god, he was a fucking idiot. 

The tension in the room was thick. You, sitting restlessly as you waited for Bob to acknowledge what you had said. Bob, processing your words and what they meant. 

“How long?” Bob asked, his voice soft yet firm.

You chuckled as you shook your head, “Honestly? First day. We hadn’t even spoken yet. I saw you walk in and you just were….not only handsome but also looked so kind? Then you offered me a spare pencil, made that comment about Jake’s driving and I….was a goner.”

“I saw you talking to Halo before the briefing room was open,” He confessed, “She said something that made you laugh and it….it was the prettiest sight I had ever seen.”

“We’ve wasted a lot of time, huh?” You both stared ahead at the TV, still too fearful to face each other. 

Bob dryly chuckled, “Yeah….a lot of time. Months, if we’re being more exact.” 

The two of you remained in silence, your words sinking in. Neither sure what should be said, if anything should be said. Until finally, you spoke up. 

“Bob? What’s underneath the pillow?” 

His hips shifted, involuntary, “What?” For a moment, he forgot about the darn pillow and the erection he was covering with it. 

The cluelessness in his voice brought a giggle, “The pillow? Why are you using it to cover your lap?”

Bob sighed, “Can I at least kiss you first?” 

You nodded, moving to close the gap between you and Bob. Pillow be damned, his hands cupped your jawline, giving you a sweet smile before leaning in, closing the gap between your lips and his. 

Bob Floyd’s lips were soft, no doubt due to the sweet mint chapstick you'd watch him apply countless of times. You didn't want to admit how often you'd wondered about the taste, what his hands would feel like on your body. God, they were huge. His thumbs rested comfortably on your jawline, but you could feel his other fingers spanning your neck, down to your collarbone. 

The first kiss was gentle, practically modest. Your lips were only apart for several seconds, if that, before connecting again. 

You easily found his shoulders, grasping them for purchase. The gap between your bodies was too much, Bob wanted to be as close as possible. So his hands trailed down your body, skimming along until they found the back of your thighs. Using his strength, he moved your body, situating you onto his lap. 

A high pitched gasp fell from your lips upon feeling the bulge that was straining against his jeans. Good god, he was thick. You had heard whispers, chalking it up to typical locker room talk. 

Nope, those rumors were one hundred percent true. 

“I’m sorry,” Bob groaned, hands exploring your soft curves. Worst of all, he sounded earnest, only making you want to touch him more. 

“I-I wore this on purpose ah-after all,” you confessed, finding it difficult to speak as he pressed open mouthed kisses along your exposed chest. 

Right. You wore this on purpose. To entice him. To see if perhaps he felt the same burning desire. Once realization hit him again, Bob’s hands moved along your back, just stopping above your ass. 

Wait, he was about to touch your ass. 

“We-we shouldn’t,” Bob mumbled, retracting his hands from your body. You stilled, a crestfallen look painting your face. 

“We shouldn’t?” Repeating the words felt like driving a knife through your heart. Had regret finally emerged, beating the rush of adrenaline? Was he going to regret this, ask that you two never speak about it ever again, pretend it never happened?

“I…” Bob sighed, “I need to take you on a date first.”

Bless his heart. 

Sighing, you relaxed your body into his, resting your head in the crook of his neck, “You’re too sweet, y’know that?”

Bob chuckled, “That's supposed to be my line.” 

His hands gave your hips a loving squeeze, causing you to nestle further into him, until your bodies were nearly molded as one. Your lips searched for his, trailing up his neck, his jawline, along the side of his button nose until finally reaching his soft lips. Bob shifted in his seat, causing you to do the same. As a result, you could feel his erection, despite the layers of clothes. 

“Good lord Bobby, you've just been walking around with all that?” Bob groaned, but not due to your words. No, it was because you had started moving your hips in circles, his erection now pressed against your covered core. 

“I’m- I’m trying to be a gentleman.” Bob couldn't even look at you. He didn't want to stop. He should stop. Maybe you two could skip the Hard Deck and go out to dinner. Then he could take you home and not feel as guilty. 

“You can be a gentleman later,” by throwing your arms over his shoulder you finally had access to his neck. His skin was so soft, so delicate. How could you not sink your teeth into his neck? 

Normally you'd have better self control than this. But you were ovulating and had six months of sexual frustrations and wet dreams- 

“You had dreams about me?” Uh-oh. That wasn't meant to be said out loud. Granted, maybe it was for the best to get everything out in the open. 

Timidly nodding, you explained, “Yeah. The days I didn't sit next to you were because….I had a dream about ya the night before.” 

A band had snapped within Bob, no doubt due to the numerous times you didn't sit next to him during briefings. 

Within seconds, you found yourself on your back against the couch, the bespectacled WSO hovering over you. There was a fire flickering in his blue eyes as he remained laser focused on your face. 

“After this, you're putting this dress back on and I'm taking ya out to dinner, is that clear?” his voice was gruff and deep, similar to when he did a hundred pushes that one day (that you definitely didn't think about while masturbating). 

Chest heaving, dress pushed up to your upper thighs, lips kiss bitten, God, you looked like an angel to Bob. He remembered learning about angels in church growing up. How pious they were, that seeing them was a sign of comfort, that they would guide one to safety, to a holy life. 

There was nothing holy about what he wanted to do to you. 

His mouth was hot, searing kisses along your skin. Your back arched into him, desperate for me. But he always seemed to pull away before you could get enough. Would you? Ever get enough of Bob Floyd? 

Finding an answer would have to wait, for now you wanted to relish in the feeling of Bob’s hands kneading your breasts. It was obvious you weren't wearing a bra, a fact Bob ob had spent forty minutes trying not to think about. He still felt a smidge of guilt, as though the newly drawn line between friends and more hadn’t quite sunk in yet. Was he even supposed to be doing this?

“You can keep going. I want you to.” You sensed his hesitation. In all the time you knew Bob, he had never taken someone home for a one night stand. He wasn’t like that. He needed time to build a connection, to feel comfortable enough to be himself. That’s why he loved spending time with you. With you, there was no need to put up a front, no need to be fearful of judgement. 

“And then afterwards, we can order some Thai food and continue watching the episode, if you want. Or we can just do that now,” your hands cradled his jaw, gently forcing him to look at you. He found a sweet, reassuring smile, similar to the one that made him smitten six months ago. 

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” Bob could be blunt, and often was when it came to his colleague’s shenanigans. But with his own feelings? He always chose his words carefully. 

Hence why his admission took you some time to process. Bob could see it on your face; first your eyes widened, lips slightly parting as if driven by the need to respond immediately. But then your lips closed, your brain quickly gaining back self control. 

“I’m falling in love with you too Robby.” You were the only one who could call him that. It was that familiarity, that intimacy, that gave him the courage to move his hands to your hemline up to your hips, revealing the thin, lacy red fabric underneath. 

You were breathtaking. Always were. But this? This solidified things for Bob. You two had made a step forward in your relationship. Many things would still be the same. But there were now new things to experience. Simply another layer of intimacy had been added.

His long fingers skimmed over the fabric of your panties, every touch sending a spark of electricity along your spine. Every stroke caused a small gasp to fall from your lips, music to Bob’s ears. Lowering himself, Bob decorated your hips with opened mouth kisses. Finally, gaining enough courage, his fingers pushed your panties to the side. 

Fuck, you were wet. 

If there was any hesitation left in Bob, it died upon seeing how visibly aroused you were. He had done that. No one else. Lowering himself even more, he was now at eye level with your wet cunt. This wasn’t some vivid wet dream. 

When his touch licked a broad stripe up your slit, a broken moan fell from your lips, echoing off the walls. It was the prettiest sound Bob had heard. He wanted to hear it again. All the time. 

With more confidence, Bob begins lapping up your arousal, determined to taste every inch of you. His fingers dig into your thighs, pulling you closer. Looking down, you see his glasses are now crooked, though you highly doubt Bob cares, given how his eyes are half closed in pleasure. 

Wait, was he grinding against the couch? 

The discovery caused your thighs to clamp over Bob’s ears, your hips thrusting upwards to get more of his talented tongue. Bob wasn't reserved around you, never had been. But this was a new side to him that you had wondered if it ever existed. Animalistic. Devouring. Loud. 

His groans vibrate against your core, only heightening the pleasure. Slowly, his right hand goes from your hips to your core, mouth moving to your clit as the long digits trace your opening. 

��Oh my God, please,” you all but beg, not quite ready to admit how often you thought about his fingers and how they would feel inside of you.

Always thinking about your comfort, Bob started off with just one finger. You tried to fuck yourself with it, your own fingers gripping the soft strands of his hair for better leverage. The thought of making you beg crossed Bob’s mind. Would you like that? Would you be open to that? There were so many new topics to discuss, so many new boundaries to explore now. 

You happily welcomed the stretch of two, three fingers. Bob found the little moans you let out to be quite adorable. He could feel his cock throb against his jeans, but pleasing you took priority. 

“C’mon honey. Wanna feel you come on my fingers.” His voice was low, husky even. 

“C-can you be inside me? Like your…your cock?” A broken groan fell from Bob’s lips at the very thought of being inside of you. 

“I don't….I don't think I'll last long,” he admitted sheepishly. Hell, he could probably come just from eating you out. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it sounded pretty good- bringing himself to the height of pleasure just from ravishing you. 

“I don't think I will either,” you giggled, “But we’ll….we have lots of other times to go slow.” 

Bob helped you sit up on the couch. “You wanna go to the bedroom?” He asked, thinking about how this could be more comfortable for you. 

Instead, you shook your head, hands moving to his jeans, hastily undoing the buttons. 

Now it was your turn to explore, to discover. There was a dark trail of hair that went past the waistband of his jeans. He wore boxer briefs. And Bob Floyd had the prettiest cock. 

His face turned bright red at the compliment, “Oh it's…I mean it's like fine, but it's not-” 

“Take the damn compliment Robert,” you all but scolded, eliciting a laugh from him, your favorite. The high pitch, near giggle one. The one that made your heart flutter. 

Feeling at ease, you moved so that you were hovering over Bob’s lap. Your fingers moved to the base of his cock, making you realize you would have to ease yourself into it. 

“I gotcha,” his hands found your hips, slowly easing you down. His sapphire eyes never left your face, searching for any sign of discomfort. He went slow, waiting until you made it vocally known you were ready for more. 

By the time you reached the base of Bob’s cock, you were a mess. You wanted him to move, to fuck you within an inch of your life. But he was also so big. The stretch was nothing you had experienced before. 

“Hey, we can take our time, okay? I know it's, that it's a lot,” he assured you, as though he could sense your internal conflict. His lips found yours, and in that kiss you found comfort. Bob grounded you, always had, whether it was up in the air or right here on your couch. 

How much time had passed, who was to say? You could recall both your phones vibrating a few times, no doubt messages from the rest of your squad. Those messages could wait. 

“I think I'm ready,” you whispered against Bob’s lips. He needed, digging his fingers into your hips to gain a better grip. With his help, you lifted yourself no more than a couple of inches off his cock, returning to the base. 

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” Bob moaned. You just made Bob Floyd curse. Something not even a bird strike could do. That four letter word gave you the confidence to lift your hips up on your own accord, returning swiftly. Slowly, just an inch or two, which became several inches. Up and down motions turned to swiveling your hips in a circular rhythm. What was once a quiet living room, saved for a few small gasps and the static from the TV, had now become a symphony of melodic pants and groans. 

Bob could tell you were close. Your pussy was tightening around his cock more and more, your fingers dug into his broad shoulders, as if trying to anchor yourself. You practically whined at the sight of Bob taking two fingers into his mouth, wetting them with his tongue. He lowered them to where your bodies connected. 

Upon first contact with your clit, your head dropped to the crook of his neck, unabashedly moaning his name, hips moving in a now frantic motion. 

“That's it, I gotcha.” Fuck, we he going to talk you through it? Was Bob Floyd a talker? Ironic, considering at work he was known as a man of few words. 

“Feels s’good, being inside ya.” Fuck, he was a talker. You were doomed, “Wanna, wanna make us cum. Bet ya gonna feel even better when ya soak- fuck- soak my cock.” 

Your brain was hazy. Was this real? If it was a vivid wet dream, you never wanted to wake up. Was it wrong to hope that you were in a medically induced coma, so that if this  was indeed a dream, you wouldn’t have to wake up so soon? Surely, your friends and family would understand upon meeting Bob. 

Then he pointedly thrusted his hips upwards, reminding you that no, this wasn’t a dream. No, you wouldn’t wake up feeling frustrated and unable to look him in the eye. After this, you two could go out to eat, on a real date. Not some hey let’s get dinner that feels like a date in everything except in name. You could also order delivery and cuddle up on the couch. Maybe you could even shower with him beforehand, and see his bare body, find out what was truly hiding underneath that flight suit. Oh, he was deceptively strong, you always knew that. But to see it, to feel the hard planes of his muscles? Oh, that would be quite the joy to experience. 

“Sweet girl,” you clenched at that nickname, you wanted him to continue calling you that for eternity, “Let go. Know ya want it.”

“I-I do,” you all but whined. Bob found the noise cute. What other sounds did you make? What would you sound like if he kept fucking you after you came? What about if he ate you out for hours? Or teased you until you were teetering on the edge?

There were so many questions, so many areas to explore. But for now, Bob was satisfied with experiencing how tightly you clenched his cock, how you practically sang his name as you came. Your release triggered his, pulling your hips down until they were flushed against his. His lips smashed against yours, swallowing your moans. 

Then there was silence. No words spoken. Only the sounds of panting, you both clearly trying to catch your breath, and kisses exchanged, ones that neither of you could resist giving. 

Realization hits you like a freight train. “I’m on birth control.”

Bob’s eyes widened, “Oh thank God.” He was usually so good about asking, about pulling out. But you….you made his brain feel like cotton. 

“You saying you don’t want to have kids with me?” You giggled, pressing a kiss to his warm cheek to let him know you were only saying it in jest. 

“Not yet.” You sat up to find he had an earnest smile on his face, cheeks rosy and eyes shining in adornment. 

Bob Floyd was going to be the death of you. 

So you brushed several strands of sandy brown hair off of his forehead, replacing them with a kiss, "Gotta get me a ring first."

Luckily, you were going to be the death of Bob Floyd.

[wanders-in-wonderland]

Match My Freak

She’s been my roommate for over three months now and I’m nearing the end of my patience. Everything about her drives me insane, from the smell of her shampoo permeating through the bathroom after her long showers to the way she prances around the living room and kitchen wearing her tiny little pajamas. I’ve learned every single detail about her since she moved in and every day I fall in love with her a little more but she has no idea. She’s been etched into every atom of my soul and I need her to be mine.

She’d moved into my place after responding to an ad I’d placed about needing a roommate. She told me she’d broken up with her boyfriend and moved out of their shared apartment so it never felt right for me to make a move. I didn’t want her to treat me like a rebound, not when I have every intention of making her mine forever. But, last week, she’d put on a fucking red dress and heels fully done up to go on a date with some loser. I almost lost my mind when I saw her on her way out the door. How dare she go spend time with some loser guy when I’m right here for her?

That night, while I waited up all night for her to come home (she didn’t and I almost left the house to hunt her down and drag her back here), I made up my mind. If she can’t see what’s right in front of her, I’ll make her see. I’ll force her to. Plus, she deserves a punishment for whoring herself out to some random guy and I plan to teach her a hard-earned lesson.

It wasn’t very difficult to get my hands on what I needed, the internet really does provide all. A few searches, a couple hundred dollars, and a week’s wait for expedited shipping later, I was equipped with a fast-acting roofie and a powerful aphrodisiac, both of which dissolved nicely and undetectably into any beverage of choice.

It’s Friday night now and I’m jittery with a combination of nerves, excitement, and a feeling of finality. I’m finally getting a taste of what I want. She’ll wake up the next morning, maybe a little sore and tired but none the wiser of the events of tonight. And once I clear my head a little, I’ll figure out a long term plan to make her mine forever.

Really, I’m doing her a favor. I could be rough, be violent, hold a knife to her throat and force her to take my cock. Make her cry and scream and traumatize her to really punish her. But no, I’m too good to her to put her through that. Instead, she gets the easy way out, the nice drugs that make her pliant, relaxed, and needy. She gets to wake up the next morning and still feel safe around me, because she is. And eventually, she’ll learn to love me.

She’s curled up on the couch when I come out of my room, dressed in another one of her tiny pajama sets, her eyes leaving her Kindle to meet mine before she shoots me a beautiful smile. “Hey you! Where’ve you been? I feel like I’ve hardly seen you all week?”

I flash her a grin, “Been busy with work, I took on a new project and there’s been a lot of prep work involved.”

She nods, “Well I hope it goes well, I can’t imagine it not, you seem really good at your job!” If only she knew.

I smile at her before heading into the kitchen, calling out behind me, “You want something to drink?”

“Yes please! Can you grab me a can of seltzer, please?”

My smile widens when I hear that and I grab a can of her favorite flavor from the fridge before cracking it open and pouring the fizzy water into a cup. Both drugs dissolve immediately into the drink and I smirk before grabbing a can for myself.

I step back into the living room and settle onto the other side of the couch, handing over her drink. She smiles in thanks before taking a long sip. I hide my smile behind a drink of my own.

“Whatcha up to?” I ask, nodding towards her Kindle.

She shrugs, tossing her hair over her shoulder, the smell of her shampoo wafting into my face. My fist clenches. Fuck, she smells so good. “I’m just reading, nothing exciting,” she says. “What about you? Any fun plans tonight?”

I can’t hold back the smirk that lights up my face, “Nah, just spending a night in.”

She takes another sip of her drink and blinks her eyes tiredly. “Mhm, that sounds nice, getting to bed early sounds like a good plan.”

I nod, eyes fixed on her drink as she takes another swallow. My heart is beating hard in my chest as I try to restrain myself from showing my dark excitement for where tonight is headed.

I watch as she sets her Kindle down on the coffee table and rubs her eyes. “I think I’m going to head into my room…” her voice is softer now, slower as the drugs start to take effect. I nod at her drink, “You should finish that before you head in.”

She nods a little and drinks the last little bit, setting her cup onto the table and moving to stand. She barely manages to get herself up before she stumbles and her knees buckle, her body folding like a puppet.

I’m ready for her and I pull her into my lap, making sure she doesn’t hurt herself.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, you okay?” My voice betrays my excitement but she’s too far gone to notice. Her body melts into mine as she lets out a soft whine, “Mm really tired… and everything feels so hot…”

She leans her head against my shoulder and I let out a groan, the feeling of her soft body in my lap is almost enough to make me lose control. I laugh incredulously, “Fuck, those drugs really do work fast.”

I tap her cheek gently and look into her dazed eyes, “Hey. Hey, focus on me. You still with me?”

Her eyes blink slowly at me but she’s too delirious to respond. I’m so fucking hard now, the reality of what’s going to happen fully hitting me. I cup her cheek and lean my forehead against hers, groaning with desire.

“You’re all mine now, huh? Drugged out of your mind and completely vulnerable. You look so pretty like this, not a single thought in that gorgeous head of yours, isn’t that right?”

My lips meet hers and I moan into her mouth as I claim our first kiss. First of many. She’s soft and pliant underneath me, her lips clumsily moving against mine. I run my hand through her soft hair as my lips work feverishly against hers. My breath comes out in harsh pants when I finally pull away, the taste of her lips making my head spin.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect like this. So obedient, so good for me. Not like last week, when you whored yourself out to some fucking guy, huh?” My voice turns mean as I recall the red hot fury that governed my every thought the night she went out. My hands get rougher as I move her around in my lap, pulling her back to my chest and spreading her legs so they splayed open for me.

“If you’d just been a good girl, tonight wouldn’t have needed to happen like this. But no, you betrayed me. You went and fucked some other guy and now I need to cleanse him from you before I can make you mine. Because that’s what you are, my perfect girl, isn’t that right?”

Her eyes have fluttered shut now but it doesn’t matter to me because when my hand trails down her stomach to her clothed pussy, I can feel the burning heat. The aphrodisiac’s doing its job too.

I chuckle and grab a fistful of her pathetically tiny shorts and jerk them hard off her legs. She lets out a soft whimper from my harsh treatment and I coo softly at her, “It’s okay, darling, this is what you want.”

My fingers press against her bare cunt and she’s soaked.

“Fuck, you’re fucking dripping. Look at you, drugged out of your mind and this pretty pussy is weeping for me.”

I run my fingers gently across her pulsing clit and her legs twitch, a soft whine escaping from her lips. I start to rub her sensitive little clit in circles, spreading her own wetness all over her pussy.

“So messy for me, huh? I know you like this, I can feel your cunt pulsing. Only I can make you feel this way, you’ll learn that soon.”

She’s letting out little desperate whimpers and a glance at her face tells me she’s so out of it that I have nothing to worry about. I slide a finger into her pussy and groan at how tight she is.

“Fuck, your pretty pussy feels so good wrapped around my finger. God, you’re so nasty, getting all drugged up and turning into a little mindless toy. You’re leaking all over my lap and I’ve barely done anything. What a filthy little whore.”

I thrust my fingers into her and curl them upwards, letting my thumb keep rubbing her little clit. I almost wish she were more lucid so she could hear all the dirty things I’m telling her.

“Fuck, I can tell you’re close, huh? You gonna cum for me, all drugged up and making a mess all over my fingers?”

Her soft whimpers have turned into louder moans and I can tell by her little hip thrusts that she’s close. My fingers don’t stop and I feel her shudder in my arms, a soft mewling cry erupting from her as she cums for me. I groan softly and work her through her orgasm, my fingers rubbing mercilessly against her little clit as she trembles.

“That’s it, baby, feel good for me. I’m the only one who can make you feel like this, isn’t that right? You’re fucking mine.” I pull my fingers away from her and taste her wetness, moaning at how good she is.

I scoop her up and carry her into my room, laying her gently down on my bed, her head lolling in her drugged state of semi-consciousness. I brush her hair away from her pretty face, admiring her.

“I love you, pretty girl, do you know that? I love you so much and I’ll prove that to you. You won’t remember any of this tomorrow, but I promise you’ll never doubt how much I love you for the rest of our lives.”

I crawl over her, pining her body down onto the bed with my own, my hands running everywhere over her body. I trail soft kisses over her skin, licking gently down her neck and into the valley of her pretty, pretty tits. Her nipples are so hard and a gentle flick from my fingers makes her let out a soft, sleepy whine.

I draw a hard peak into my mouth and let my tongue play with her sensitive flesh, scrapping my teeth gently against her. Another whimper from her. I want nothing more than to leave love bites and marks all over her skin, proving that she belongs to me for anyone to see but I control myself. Leaving marks would mean leaving evidence and I can’t have that, not yet.

I spend another few moments gently playing with her sensitive tits before I get too impatient to wait any longer. My cock has been straining against my sweatpants since I saw her take her first sip of her drugged drink and I can’t hold back anymore. I make quick work of my own clothes before I finally press my naked body against hers, every single bit of her form fitting perfectly against mine, like we were made for each other.

Her pretty cunt is still weeping, making a mess all over my bed. “I wish you were awake for this so you could see how fucking perfect we are for each other. But it’s okay, your mind might not remember this but your body well. Your body will know it belongs to me.” I groan as I swipe a finger through her wetness, making sure to nudge her little clit, savoring the hitch in her breathing that follows.

I smirk as I grip my throbbing cock and run the head gently across her dripping folds, moaning at the feel of her. “Fuck, such a desperate little cunt for me. You like this, huh? Like the feeling of my cock rubbing your cunt? Fuck, you’re so good like this.”

I slowly start to press into her, the tight, wet heat of her pussy making my head spin from pleasure. She lets out tiny little moans as I bottom out inside of her, her cunt clenching around me so tightly I would’ve thought she was awake if I didn’t know better.

“Fuck, that’s right. I own this pussy, this tight fucking cunt gripping my cock. Fuck, you’re all mine.” I’m panting as I start to thrust into her, every single movement making her limp body jerk.

She’s so good for me, so obedient as I take exactly what I want from her. Her eyes are still shut but the sounds she makes while unconscious are almost enough to make me worry she’s actually awake. I thrust deep and she lets out a delicious little whine.

“Fuck yes, you’re so sensitive like this, huh? The drugs making you so needy for me and my cock. Is that little clitty feeling neglected?” I groan as my fingers rub harshly against her clit, the movement making her cunt tighten even further around me. It doesn’t take long before I hear her little whimpers escalate and her hips jerk. Her soft, relaxed body is driving me insane and I start to loose my rhythm as she milks me.

“You getting close again, love? All drugged up, stuffed full, and about to cum again for me? There you go, you like that huh? I know you can’t answer me but your body tells me enough.” I rub her clit faster and shudder when I feel her orgasm hit her hard. Her pussy milks me hard and it pushes me over the edge.

I fuck her through both our orgasms and I collapse onto the bed next to her, taking care not to crush her underneath me. My heart is pounding as the pleasure ebbs out of my body, leaving me satiated and content. I pull her into my arms and press my lips to her temple, my eyes taking in her flushed face, closed eyes, and trembling body. My pretty girl is all tired out from tonight’s activities.

“You did so good, love. I’m so fucking good to you, aren’t I? I made sure you’d enjoy this, made sure you would cum over and over again. I treated you so well, I didn’t leave a single bruise on your soft skin. You should be so grateful, baby. I made sure to be gentle, to be so good to you. Made sure to buy you the good drugs so you wake up tomorrow nice and easy. You won’t remember any of this but it’s okay. I’ll remember and I’ll know that our first time together was perfect.”

I press my lips to her skin again and pull her tighter into my grasp, my own eyes closing as I drift off to sleep with her.

I wake up several hours later, her body still tucked into my own, her soft breaths tickling my skin. I take in the vision of her curled up in my bed and it almost makes me want to fuck her again. But I can’t, her drugs are going to wear off soon and I need to make sure she opens her eyes in her own room, dressed in her pajamas so she has no clue what happened.

I groan softly as I extricate myself from the bed, my body already missing hers. It’s easy enough to redress her in her pajamas and carry her into her room. I tuck her into bed and press a soft kiss to her forehead before heading out of her bedroom.

I’m too restless to go back to sleep so I throw on a pair of sweatpants and go to sit out in the living room, replaying the events of last night in my head. As time passes, there’s a sinking feeling of dread building in my stomach. What if the drugs didn’t work as expected and she wakes up remembering everything that happened? If that happens, everything falls apart. I’m wracking my brain to come up with a contingency plan and wanting to punch myself for not thinking this through earlier when I hear the door of her bedroom open.

My eyes immediately find hers and part of my relaxes when I see no anger, fear, or revulsion in her face. Just sleepiness and a look of contentment.

“Hey, how’d you sleep?” My voice sounds thick and croaky and I cough awkwardly to cover it up. She smiles at me and walks in my direction.

“Good, really good.”

She comes to the couch and settles next to me. Closer than normal. A lot closer, she’s basically pressed right up against me. I blink at her.

She smirks and her hand comes to rest against my chest. My bare chest. My breath stutters and I look at her with wide eyes. “What- what are you doing?”

She giggles, “What? You spend all night doing unspeakable things to me and now a little hand on your chest has you freaking out?”

My mind short-circuits as my stomach drops. “What?” My voice comes out in a croak and panic seizes my entire body.

I hear her laugh again but everything feels like a haze. I watch, frozen, as she tucks herself against me and leans into my chest.

I clear my throat and stutter a little when I speak again, “What- what do you think happened last night?”

She smiles at me. “You mean before or after you drugged me?”

Fuck, I’m screwed. I fucked up. It’s over. My heart is pounding as I struggle to process what’s happening. “What?” If I had higher brain capacity right now, I’d be desperately coming up with some excuse but nothing comes to mind. She laughs again and cups my cheek in one hand.

“Stop freaking out, you didn’t do anything that I didn’t already want,” her voice punches through the confusion in my head and I stare at her.

“What?” That seems to be my favorite word right now.

She pats my cheek. “Okay, fine, I’ll explain, I’m done messing with you. I’ve been into you since I moved in. And I know you’ve been into me too. It’s really hard to miss all the signs, you’re always doing little things for me, buying me the snacks I like, making excuses to spend weekends together, staring at me when you think I’m not paying attention.”

I blush a little at that, I guess I haven’t been subtle.

“I kept waiting for you to do something about it but you never did. So I ‘went on a date’ last week to try to provoke something out of you.” I blink dumbly at her air quotes.

“What? It wasn’t a real date?” There’s so much for my brain to work through right now and I can’t focus properly because she keeps stroking my chest.

She laughs and rolls her eyes good-naturedly, “No, it wasn’t a real date, I got dressed up and went to a friend’s place to stay over to make you jealous so you’d do something. And you did. Only I thought you’d ask me out finally, not concoct this insane plan of yours.”

I blink slowly at her, she continues, seeing that I’m incapable of stringing together coherent words right now.

“You left your laptop out last week and I saw the shipping confirmation of the drugs in your email. It wasn’t hard to put together what you intended to do. I didn’t think you had it in you,” she teased. I’m still dumbfounded.

“It wasn’t that hard to get to the packages before you when they came in,” she shrugs. “The roofie I swapped for a sugar pill but I kept the aphrodisiac intact because it sounded fun. And when you drugged me last night, I just pretended that the roofie worked. Honestly, it was so much harder than I thought it would be to stay still through everything but so fucking worth it.” She smiles at me before kissing my cheek.

My mind is racing as I put all the pieces together and all the panic and fear from earlier is replaced with awe. I let out a choked, incredulous laugh. “What the fuck? You’re fucking crazy,” my voice is reverential as I grab her and pull her onto my lap. My lips find hers and I feel her melt into the kiss, every single fiber of my being relaxing with her.

I pull away and look into her eyes, “I love you, you’re perfect.”

She smiles, “I love you too.” She winks at me, “I can match your freak.”

Note: Hi friends, I'm baaack! I'm so into the "crazy obsessed lover x willing recipient" dynamic so hope y'all enjoyed this one!

[0-memento-mori-0]

So how come I haven’t seen anybody talking about Wade fixing Logan’s ruined X-Man Uniform after the movie ??

Come on, he talks about how important that suit was to him as his only reminder of his friends, and the sleeves are ruined, the top is ripped off, and it’s covered in blood by the end of the movie. BUT, who had an entire montage of making his iconic suit and fine tuning it in the first movie ? Who knows how to sew, fix, and make a super suit actually DECENTLY and knows to remove blood stains with seltzer water and lemon??

What I’m saying is, Logan being scared Wade will ruin what tiny scraps he has left of that suit when Wade offers to fix it, and he actually fixes it perfectly, complete with the iconic sleeveless version because “those guns need to be free to breathe for the good of the world, we just saved it, I’m not covering those and risking it all again”

Play with that as you please

[jesuistrestriste]

cw (18+): sub!art, afab + femme!character, age gap, crying/dacryphilia, art being a sad and lonely hot guy in his forties, tashi and art never really got together, creampie

˚ ﹒⟢ ˚ ﹒⟢ ˚ ﹒⟢ ˚ ﹒⟢ ˚ ﹒⟢ ˚ ﹒⟢ ˚ ﹒⟢

dilf!art getting with a pretty young thing from down the block. . .

he always admired her effortless confidence and the way her body moved when she walked down the street to the corner store every weekend.

always watched her return from his brownstone apartment window; a pack of cinnamon gum and a case of peach seltzer in her hands.

she’s beautiful and bouncy and everything he didn’t get to have in his youth when he was too sucked into tennis to let himself live a little. he lost tashi to patrick. that was that. and he never tried dating again until about ten or so years ago.

they were all flings that crashed and burned their way through his thirties. meaningless moments where all he was left with was a wet dick and a heaviness in his chest. he hated it. he was done with it.

until her.

she was different.

she sparked a conversation with him one day when they ran into each other outside his doorstep. she was cracking jokes that only made her seem more intriguing because art didn’t understand the social context behind them— he was no longer hip and cool, he’d accepted it. but that, combined with the pop of her hip she did when she was making him laugh (not to mention the way she smacked her gum + batted her lashes when she smiled; all pearly whites) made him feel like even more of a creep.

but now she’s bouncing on his cock and gazing down at him while he gasps and squirms like a livewire underneath her.

they’ve only really known each other for a week and a half.

“say thank you, Artie,” she purrs, her hand tracing the spattered flush on his chest, “say it.”

he bucks his hips up as much as he can to meet her movements, and bites his lip hard enough to taste metal when his tip bumps her cervix.

“thank you, oh my god, thank you— thank you, thank you—! ha-aah-!”

he babbles; a broken record of whines and shaky moans. his throat hurts from all of the sounds being pulled from him when the most he’s talked all month has come from just a couple of boring, remote interviews about his athletic career.

and her, of course.

god, it’s all her..

he swallows and keens, and then his eyes are watering.

and then he’s sobbing. he’s choking on his tears and yet he’s still feeling the tight coil of warmth tense further and further and further-

“don’t cry,” she whispers, leaning down to kiss the wetness from his cheeks, her hips swiveling to ride him harder just as the first slimy blurt of his orgasm spills inside, “you’re a good boy, okay? you’re perfect… a total catch…”

she smells like candy. she’s wiping his tears now.

“oh fuck, thank you-uu—hnghh!”

art lifts his hips, his face crumpling with pleasure and sadness, before he yelps and his climax wipes him out. his whole body trembles as he feels his cock pulse and coat her pussy with gooey clots of his spend. he’s practically wheezing.

he grips onto her hips fiercely; like if he doesn’t squeeze hard enough she’ll just go *poof*, and then he’ll be alone again.

“.. ungh, ‘m sorry, im cumming inside you, im cumming, im so sorry,” he whimpers, the aftershocks leaving him feeling bare and weak. stripped of all of his armor. if he even had any left to begin with.

she kisses his shoulder gently, and then she’s dipping her glossy lips down to whisper right next to his ear. her dainty necklace chills his skin when it dangles from her body and meets his collarbone. she’s so close to him.

“don’t worry, Mr. Donaldson…

you’ll be a great daddy.”

[erwinsvow]

rafe thinks you’re spoiling him.

it doesn’t seem that way to others, maybe, with the obviously pampered way about you—expensive jewelry that floats on your skin and never having to wait more than a few days for something new that’s caught your eye. at first you were awfully shy about it, flushing if he showed up with a new gift before a date and hiding your head in his arm if he offered to buy you the shoes you kept staring at in the store. you’ve grown into it now—which pleases him, a lot—mostly because no one else knows how much you’re spoiling him. 

making sure you have whatever your little heart wants is the least he can do to repay it, he thinks, looking down and into your concerned eyes, your hand resting softly against his chest.

“rafe? did you hear me?” you ask, and he tries to snap out of it, really he does, it’s just getting harder around you. 

“hm?” he murmurs, still a little dazed.

“i think we should stay in tonight,” you repeat, moving your hand so the back of it is flat against his forehead, and then his neck. “you seem warm, i think you’re getting sick.” 

he feels weird, not because of the cold—he already expected that since wheezie and sarah were coughing and sniffling up a storm earlier that week—but from the way you look distraught, just from the idea that he might not be feeling well.

“aren’t your stupid friends comin’ tonight-”

“who cares?” you interrupt, hand coming down to his to guide him upstairs, since you know he won’t budge unless he’s dragged. you get him into bed a little later, running your fingers through his hair until he falls asleep with one hand and canceling your plans with the other. when he wakes up, you’re not there, and he jerks upright, hand reaching for his phone to call you. the door opens and his body relaxes instantly, falling back into the pillows you had arranged carefully for him, bottles of water and gatorade and cough medicine in your hands.

you make him drink it, and you don’t even look grossed out while he’s coughing up green stuff or drooling onto the pillow. he hears your soft laugh and the feel of a damp towel on his skin—and he thinks in his delirium that this must be what getting spoiled feels like.

the next week he’s back in business, at some house party with kelce and topper trying to sell double to make up for being out of commission last week. you float around with your friends, nursing one of those canned seltzers that taste like juice to him but are enough to get you tipsy. when you find him after maybe thirty minutes of being alone you curl up on the couch, your feet settling on his lap and head leaning on the armrest. you are a little drunk—he can tell—but he stares down at you intensely, because he’s a little drunk too. 

he’s thinking some sappy shit, about how pretty you look like this—dolled up and giggly from the alcohol, your short dress showing him lots of soft skin that he wants to kiss. you sit up when his hands move to your knee, focusing on him with that sweet, concerned look. he wishes you wouldn’t—it makes him want to fuck you right here, infront of all these people, because he can’t stand how it makes him feel.

“are you okay?” you ask softly, your own hand resting on his shoulder.

“why wouldn’t i be?” he asks, taking another sip of his drink. you look relieved when he says it.

“nothing. just checking,” and then you lean back again, smiling again. 

you do that again, he notices, a few weeks later—the morning after another party, a longer one. he dropped you at home because he had shit he needed to finish up, but you call him first thing when you wake up. he listens to your calming voice on his phone.

“did you sleep okay?”

“yeah, kid.”

“did you have water yet? and a tylenol?”

“yes, kid.”

“oh-okay. good. i have to check, i worry about you-”

“get your ass ready. takin' you to the store.”

you agree, if not a little tentatively. you worry since you don’t want rafe to think you’re only with him since he spoils you like this, and you tell him as much. 

“y’know, we can just go to the movies. or the beach, i don’t even need more shoes at this point-”

“thought you girls always need more shoes?”

“maybe before i met you, rafe. this is just silly, let’s go get ice cream instead-” he stops your sentence with his hand on your face, fingers squeezing your cheeks together.

“pick out a dress, and let me rip it off later, yeah?” my way of saying thank you. 

“yeah,” you squeak. you pick out the first dress on the rack and wait in anticipation.

[writinginthesecrettrees]

Think about Sammy and he's five years old and he says "Spicy water!" when the waitress at the diner asks what he wants to drink. And she laughs and looks at John for an explanation but he doesn't have one and can't bring himself to admit that his nine year old is the one who usually takes care of the kid.

She brings a seltzer water and Sammy takes a sip and makes a face, because it's not the spicy water but the fizz is good too and he loudly declares that to the waitress. She smiles and gives the family a free slice of pie because the kids are so cute.

Later that night, back at the motel, John sees Dean pouring holy water into Sam's sippy cup and saying "you can't tell Dad that the water's spicy" and his heart shatters all over again.

[clovercap]

unsaid (part 2)

2.4

note: hi!! thank you guys for all the love on part one, oh my gosh!!◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜ i think i'm gonna make 1-2 more parts and finish up this little series! please let me know what you'd like to see and send me asks! reblog and like if you liked this and lmk if you wanna be tagged in the next part ᵔદᵔ okay luv u all hope you enjoy!!

pairing: bfs!rafe and bsf!y/n

summary: y/n is heavily overthinking and rafe seems perfectly fine

warnings: this is 18+. alcohol use.

“You aren’t gonna surf?” 

Everyone is at the beach, and it’s mid-afternoon, the day after the party. Rafe’s sitting next to you, sunglasses on as he frowns at the ocean. It’s obvious that he’s hungover, which typically makes him irritable. You’re used to it, but it was hard not to take his attitude personally after last night.

I always need you. I can breathe when you’re around. 

What the fuck did he mean by that? 

You glance at him in the beach chair beside you, your hand playing in the sand between your chairs.

“No,” He replies hoarsely. “I feel like shit.” 

He hasn’t mentioned what he said last night. You wonder if he even remembers. It doesn’t seem like it, considering how fucked up he was. By the end of the night, you were dragging him onto Kelce’s couch because he could barely walk.

You, on the other hand, were unfortunately sober enough to remember. The more you thought about it, the more you spiraled. You couldn’t help but wonder if his words meant something more. Combined with all the things he had been doing, acting a bit more protective, being a bit more touchy and sweet. It all makes you think that maybe he does feel something more for you, like you do for him. 

It’s been eating away at you, ever told you he needed you, like the porch swing had become a confessional for just a moment. You have an aching feeling in your gut begging you to just ask him about it, but you restrain yourself. The logical reasoning that tells you he was just drunk, just being nice, holds you back. 

“Yeah, you were gone.” You finally respond, hoping to cover your distress with a soft laugh. 

You feel his gaze on you as you mess with the sand. It feels heavy, like molasses has suddenly enveloped you. He doesn’t respond, which doesn’t surprise you. There wasn’t anything else to say regarding his hangover, and there was no way in hell you would bring up what he had said. 

“Hey! What’re you guys doing out here? The water’s great.” You look up from the sand to see Ruthie walking in front of you both, her wet hair dripping down her shoulders with a hand on her hip and a seltzer in her other hand. 

“I’m hungover,” Rafe says simply, looking up at her through his sunglasses. “Swimming won’t go over too well.” 

“I totally get that,” She giggles like he was trying to be funny.

Her eyes drift to you, and her tone is much less friendly. “Why aren’t you in the water?” 

“M’tanning.” You reply, keeping your voice level. 

She tilts her head and smirks. “You can’t tan like that.” 

She’s not wrong. You’re hunched over in the beach chair, playing with the sand. The way you were sitting was not suitable for a good tan.

“I guess.” You say, and you stand up. Maybe swimming would help get your mind off things. “The water better be as nice as you’re making it out to be.” 

“Oh, it will!” She calls to you as you walk towards the shore. You look back and see she’s taken your seat, leaning over and talking to Rafe. You snap your head back to the ocean and keep walking like your chest didn’t heat up in the disgusting way it usually did when you saw Rafe talking to other girls.

When your feet hit the water, you realize Ruthie was unfortunately right. The water was great. Just cool enough to escape the blazing heat, and just warm enough to feel relaxing. You head further in, closing your eyes and dipping under the waves. You hold your breath and count to 30. You gasp for air as you come back up and see the waves have pulled you even further out. Your toes barely touch the bottom, so you lie on your back, letting the gentle waves bring you closer to shore. 

You don’t know how long you’re in the water, switching between floating and swimming, all while never looking back at the shore. You hear your name being called as you float on your back. His voice is so familiar it almost hurts, and you sigh as you let your legs sink back to the ocean floor, watching Rafe wade towards you. 

“What’s up?” You ask, swimming towards him.

“You’ve been in here for like, almost an hour.  Just wanted to make sure you weren’t dead.” He says gruffly, crossing his arms. 

The water reaches your thighs as you stand. You force a smile, running your thumb under your bikini strap. “I didn’t realize I was out here for so long, sorry.” 

“It’s fine, just—you should really be paying more attention.” 

It’s like he’s admonishing you, and you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. 

“Sorry.” You mumble, looking away from him as you rub your arm.  It’s a weak attempt to settle your nerves.

His face twists. “No, don’t be sorry. I shouldn’t’ve—” He cuts himself off and shakes his head. He glances down and drops his arms, bending down to feel the water on his hands. “Water’s nice.” 

You nod and smile tightly at his deflection. 

“Maybe it’s your turn to lie out in the ocean for an hour.” Your chest bubbles as you attempt to lighten the mood.  

He looks up at you from the water, and his gaze penetrates you. It’s like he knows something you don’t. You swallow. 

 Then he shakes his head, looking back towards shore, and the feeling is gone. “Nah, I just wanted to come check on you.”

You still, and the waves hit against you. You can’t help how the most casual sentence from him sounds like the most meaningful thing you’ve ever heard. Even though you know it’s not. Since last night, though, it feels like everything he says just…means more. 

“Wanna head back? Maybe you can actually tan.” He breaks the silence you barely even noticed.

“Maybe.” You say, looking over towards the shore. Ruthie is still in your chair, and you bristle at the sight. 

Rafe follows your gaze. “Okay,” He says gently. “Well, I’m gonna head back.”

He looks back at you expectantly. You really didn’t want to follow him back to shore. You felt like you followed him everywhere and hated yourself for it. 

“I’m gonna stay in the water a bit longer.” 

He nods with a small smile. “Try not to float away.” 

You let out a strained laugh and watch as he turns around. 

You look out towards the horizon, swimming towards it. You had always been independent, but as long as you’ve known Rafe, you’ve always just been by his side. You had become attached to him in a way that scared you. 

You weren’t sure when you started feeling more for Rafe. All you knew was that your feelings were recent and overwhelming. You had never been the type to need someone as much as you need him in your life. Maybe that’s why the thought of possibly—most likely— ruining things between you felt so heavy. 

You grew up with everything handed to you, everything decided for you, and the only thing you could control was your feelings. That’s partially why you and Rafe had gotten as close as you did. He struggled with the expectations placed upon him to be the perfect Cameron, while you felt the pressure to be just as successful as your family was. It was a perfect match of privileged teenagers dealing with overwhelming expectations.

But now, you couldn’t control your feelings. Now they had taken a hold over you, and you felt like a puppet being toyed with by his hands.  And ever since that stupid fucking party, it’s been even worse. The rule you had over your emotions had been overthrown. Stripped from you, leaving you with this hollow feeling in your stomach that only Rafe could fill. 

Thinking of him only deepened that emptiness, and you look at the distant horizon. An abrupt barrier between the sky and sea, a wall that isn’t real, but is always there. Sometimes you felt like that with Rafe. He’s never let you in entirely. Maybe that’s why his words at the party hit so hard. 

You can’t help yourself as you look back towards the shore, and your eyes immediately find him without even trying.  You see Rafe sitting in his chair, Ruthie still in yours. Maybe it’s time you just go home. 

You swim towards the shore and walk up onto the sand. Ruthie doesn’t bother moving from your seat as you get closer. If anything, she’s ignoring you, focusing solely on Rafe. You try not to look at him and grab your beach bag. 

You take a few steps away and pull your towel out, wrapping it around yourself. You attempt to keep your composure as you hear her laugh at something he says, but you can’t help that flicker in your chest. It shouldn’t get to you the way it did. 

“Hey, are you leaving?” 

You look over to see Rafe's eyes on you. He looks slightly disappointed. 

“Yeah, I’m tired from last night,” You shrug. “Think I’m just gonna go home and take a nap.” 

The emotionless expression on his face morphs into a small frown. “You alright?” He asks. 

You nod and force a smile. “Yeah, can you just?” Your eyes dart to Ruthie in your chair, now looking at her phone. “Grab my chair when you leave?”

He grips the armrests like he was about to stand, but he doesn’t. He stays seated, and his lips twitch in annoyance. “Yeah.” 

“Thanks, I’ll uh, I’ll see you later.” You lift your hand in a feeble wave, and he just nods. 

You walk to your car parked not too far away on the sand.  You and Rafe were just friends. That’s all. You just had to keep telling yourself that. You just needed to get over it.

———

A few days later, you find yourself at the country club. Rafe and you had texted occasionally, and he was the one who told you that you should come, but as you stand next to Kelce and sip your iced tea, you see Rafe leaning against the bar, talking to Ruthie again. 

You decided after the beach that you had to keep some distance between the two of you. Give yourself time to just get over it. Over him. But it was getting harder and harder to do so when it felt like the two of them were rubbing…whatever it was they were doing, in your face.

You thought he didn’t like her. He had even told you once how her voice irritated him to no end, and she was a ‘pick-me’. But there he was, smirking as she babbled on about something you couldn’t even follow. You tear your gaze from them and focus back on Kelce, who was rambling on about something with his boat. 

“…and my dad’s pissed ’cause I didn’t ask him before I got it wrapped, like it’s his fuckin’ boat,” Kelce scoffs, sipping his whiskey as he looks at you. “Are you even listening to me?”

You blink. “Yeah.”

Kelce looks over at Rafe and Ruthie, and a small grin crosses his face. “Oh, I see.” He nods like he knows something. 

“See what?’ You frown, praying Kelce hadn’t picked up on your increasing jealousy. 

He laughs a bit and crosses his arms. “Man, if you thought you were obvious before…”

Your brows furrow. “What?” 

“We all know, y’know.” He says, a little less teasing now. 

Your heart starts to beat a little faster. You don’t want to ask, but you have to. “Know what?" Your words come out slow.

Kelce just looks at you like you’re stupid. Like he knows that you know what he means. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Whatever you think, you’re wrong.” Your voice is tight, and you sip your tea as if it would help. You didn’t want Kelce knowing about whatever it was Rafe made you feel. You weren’t even fully sure yourself.

“Sure. I won’t say anything, don’t worry.” He laughs and pats you on the back. It’s then that you feel Rafe’s presence. He steps next to you and looks between you and Kelce. 

“Worry about what?” He asks, eyes darting over you. His voice is casual, but his body is tense.

You just look at him, unable to attempt a lie with him standing so close. 

“Me getting in trouble for throwing last week, and trying to throw again this week.” Kelce shrugs as he saves you, and you look back at him, thankful. 

Rafe just looks between the two of you for a moment. “Why would you worry ’bout that?” He chuckles, rubbing his knuckle under his nose, something he only did when he was bothered. 

“I just—I don’t know,” You shrug. “You know how his neighbors are sometimes.” You sip your iced tea again, like it can help the heat that flows through your chest as he stares you down. “Two parties so close might be too much.”

Rafe nods, and he seems to loosen up. “You need to stop overthinking.” He grins and pokes your arm. His small touch feels like a gut punch, and you instinctively take a small step back.

“Yeah.” You laugh and nod like that’s not what you’ve been trying to do for the past 4 days. Like you haven’t been cursing yourself internally every time you’ve caught yourself thinking back to Kelce’s last party. 

He looks at you for a second, and you hear Kelce get wrapped up in a conversation with one of your friends, but you can’t take your eyes off Rafe.

“We were gonna go to the beach after, do you wanna come?” He asks, leaning down, just so you could hear. 

His closeness makes you feel overwhelmed, and you shake your head. “No, I think I’m actually gonna head home. I’m tired.” You smile at him. 

His gaze softens. “You sure? I can come with you.” It’s a simple offer.  It’s casual and friendly, but you start to think maybe it’s more. You shake your head, more at yourself than anything.

You hate how fast you were about to say yes. But you couldn’t allow yourself to become any more disillusioned with him. 

“It’s okay, I’m just gonna nap. But I’ll see you later.” You say quietly, setting your now empty iced tea on the counter, hoping your rejection of his offer landed well. 

He’s silent for a second as his eyes narrow. “Alright, I’ll see you later.” He nods slowly.

You feel his eyes on you as you say bye to everyone else and push open the country club doors. You can finally breathe as you walk towards your car.

Distance, distance, distance.

taglist: @my-name-is-baby

(lmk if you wanna be tagged in the next part!! thank you for the love :') @my-name-is-baby)

[kisses4kaia]

god college!luke makes my emotions go haywire 😡😩 i’d honestly start dating someone else to spite him

you know what anon. ima need you to claim an emoji bc ur thoughts are TOO GOOD (also thank u sm for 1.5k💋)

so we’ve discussed previously that luke castellan does not get jealous easily.

however.

he never thought you would go this far. sure, you had danced on other guys at parties to get a rise out of him, maybe flirted here and there in front of him, but never this.

getting into a relationship—a serious relationship—with his frat brother? that was a new low. so what if he’d purposefully lead other girls into gross bathrooms at bar outings so you would see? this was uncalled for. how dare you?

so naturally, at your new boyfriend’s birthday party, when you’re sitting on his lap, helping him unwrap your present of a jean-paul gaultier cologne he’d wanted, luke—in classic luke fashion—thought this would be his chance. your sorority sister, drunk off of her wits—bless her heart—came up to you and whispered some slurred imperative about how you needed to get to ‘the square’.

your eyebrows furrowed at her as her eyebrows raised, questioning the significance of ‘the square’ and why the man who prompted her to ask chose there. you said no words, excusing yourself after finding her a water and alka seltzer.

“you really couldn’t help yourself, huh?” are the first words you say to luke, button up shirt open and lying on his back on the false grass. “me? you’re one to talk, sweetheart,” you rolled your eyes at his use of the nickname, crossing your arms as you stand over him.

beneath the twilight, your exposed shoulder skin glistened like the moon, just a sliver of it visible in the northern night sky. luke had obviously had something to drink or smoke, or both, because he slurred his words as he patted the turf next to him. “sit down. c’mon, like the good ol’ days,”

‘the square’ was a small patch of land in the middle area between his frat’s and your sorority’s backyards. it was insignificant to most everybody else, but you and luke had claimed it as yours on drizzly nights like these, when the owl called and adolescence snored. it didn’t even hold sexual reminiscences, for each night you spent on the square was spent just talking. he would gloat about some things he did over the summer, interrogate you on your sex life, laugh at your offense and crack bad jokes. he was the worst person to spend valuable time with, but you returned every night, nonetheless.

“i’m surprised, castellan. been here a full sixty seconds and you haven’t tried to fuck me,” you remained standing over his lax body, crossing your arms over your chest. “do you want me to try to fuck you? because i’m down,” he looks up at you with that smile of his. that toothy, million dollar, smile that reassures whomever it is on the receiving end that everything is okay and there’s not a thing to worry about.

you snort, giving in and sitting down. luke pulls you into his lap before your butt can even hit the cool grass, eliciting a yelp from you. his lips press against your shoulder, strong, warm arms wrap around your waist and you can’t help but melt into the body beneath you. “luke,” your voice is meant to be a warning, supposed to remind him and yourself that you belong to another and this was not right, but he did nothing except for hold you tighter and smile against your skin.

“he doesn’t make you feel like i do.” he spoke the words out of your mind, the voice of truth you swallowed down with a knowing conscience that it would rise to the surface eventually. this wasn’t what you wanted. your single goal wasn’t to make luke jealous, it wasn’t even to show him what he was missing. you just wanted it to be different. you wanted somebody to take you seriously enough to call you theirs.

but anybody who did wasn’t him.

“luke,” this time, you weren’t trying to ward off anything. this time, you were welcoming him and all his invasive, rude, luke-like, traits and the pain you knew would come with letting him in once more. “i know, baby, i know.” he said no further words before flipping the pair of you over and letting your back onto the ground. you focused on none else other than the feeling of his lips finally landing on yours, the trace of his fingers across your denim skirt’s hem. “can i?” luke’s fingers dipped past the fabric, drawing swirls on your skin. “mhm, yeah,” your smile is audible and spreads to luke’s lips.

if there was one thing luke always did, it was worship you. this time was no different. his lips were everywhere, and when they weren’t pecking kisses all over you, he was breathing praises like you were a mortal saint against your skin. and when he entered you, he fucked you like he couldn’t believe he got the chance to feel you again. but he knew what the outcome of this would be; of course he did.

you didn’t know him as a particularly selfish lover, but the way he chased his high, rutting his hips against yours to the point of overwhelmed stuttering suggested that to be true.

and when it was all said and done and the past hung in the air like a wonder of the world, luke stood and looked down at you like you previously did him.

“break up with him.”

“why?”

“you know why.”

there was no denying that, so you did none else than nod.

“yeah. i do.”

[theweepingangelofcas]

Eat The Rich, Feed Them to the Cats - Moriarty Bros x Reader

Anyone else in the USA having a crisis? Me too! Let's all maladaptive daydream together that our sweet dear Sherlock boys are with us, on our side.

Title is inspired by a fav nonprofit cat shelter of mine, Wonky Hearts Animal Haven. Please go check them out. They have stories that are truly so heartwarming and uplifting, it's a great distraction.

(No, I do not believe all men are bad. I myself have a male fiance whom I love and trust very much. But the election has left me feeling helpless and scared, as though my rights or my body don't matter. I'm writing this to vent. I respect if your political opinions are different than me, but I ask that you do not attack me in the comments, my dm's, etc)

******************

William Moriarty

You two had been together for years now, since you two were teenagers. You've shared everything. Hopes, dreams, ideals... So when he saw someone try to harass you simply because of your gender? That won't do.

"Oi! Pretty broad!"

The random man's words did little to phase you. You didn't even speed up your footsteps. But your dear William stopped in his tracks.

Oh, yes, that's right. No one had ever been stupid enough to cat call you with him around before.

"Y/N..." his gaze had turned to the man, unblinking, "Did you not hear what that man just so crudely yelled at you?"

You shrugged, stopping in your tracks to try and let him catch up to you. He didn't dare move.

"It's nothing, William. Happens all the time to us ladies."

If you didn't know better, you'd say his eye just twitched.

"Is that so? And here I was, thinking it was mostly noblemen who were the rotten part of our society."

He smiled then. Like his mind wasn't 100% alongside you anymore.

His cane left the ground, being weilded in both hands almost like a baseball bat.

Or, more accurately, perhaps he was holding it like a mace.

It was safe to say, no man went within a few dozen meters of you for quite some time after that. After all, you always had your dear William with you now.

Louis Moriarty

Oh, did you think William would be protective?

Ha!

Louis is SO MUCH WORSE

To be completely fair, he was already practically a guard dog for both you and William. You had been engaged to him for a few months, and each passing day he just wanted to spend more time by your side.

This was how he found out how truly awful some men could be.

You two had boarded a train back to Durham, coming back from a lunch date together. You two had managed to score a semi-private spot in the lunch car, meaning that he could hold you without too much fuss from the rest of society. One hand was in yours, the other wrapped around your waist. You had both ordered drinks, his a sophisticated Earl Grey tea, yours a refreshing seltzer water. That was when your waiter came back up to you both.

"Sir, I know this is quite uncouth of me to say, but the gentleman a few seats down won't stop staring at your lady friend there." He gestured to you, specifically your chest, and you seemed to shrink into your seat instantly.

Louis scowled, "Thank you for informing me. You're dismissed, good sir."

The waiter stepped away, and Louis's grip on you got tighter.

"It's fine, darling. You mustn't fret." You tried to comfort him, but his scowl only deepened.

"I will fret." He turned his head, catching eyes with a man a few booths down. He did, indeed, seem to be staring at you. "And I'm going to teach him to respect others, or die trying."

You saw Louis stand, and approach the man in a terrifying calmness. He shook his hand, and gestured for him to follow him.

If you happened to see a person-shaped figure get thrown out of the train that day, no one has to know.

Albert Moriarty

He understands deep, seething rage. He dealt with it much when he was younger. So he understands that the best way to deal with it, is to take care of it yourself.

Normally, women weren't allowed into a prestigious college. But Albert, with his power and wealth, managed to convince the school that having one woman among its ranks wouldn't hurt. Hence, you being halfway through a science and medicine degree. Albert supported you all the way through. Your husband truly was a lovely, understanding man.

"It was fascinating, my love!" Your eyes lit up as you opened your textbook to that day's lesson, "We learned about the chambers of the heart, and all the illnesses and diseases that can correlate to it's health. Isn't that so cool!"

His smile widened at seeing you happy, "It certainly is, my dear. Do go on, teach me more about it."

You nodded, eyes bright, about to keep talking before-

"I'm sure anything is fascinating to a woman. But can she even understand it? Why, she should be at home, not trying to educate herself on something she could never possibly understand."

A man had approached you both. His smug grin was enough to dampen your joy immediately.

Albert blinked, his expression blank, before turning his head back to you, "My dear, would you like my walking stick, or do you want to use your textbook? After all, this fine gentleman seems in need of an anatomy lesson."

Your grin came back, "Your walking stick, please. I'd rather not get my favorite chapter dirty."

The man's eyes flew open as you took the wooden cane from Albert, weilding it more like a weapon than an aid.

"Now," The excitement in your expression was back, "I'll give you an anatomy lesson as I break all of your bones in alphabetical order."

[ambitiouspotions]

SEEN NOT HEARD | LALO SALAMANCA | ONESHOT

summary — lalo’s temper is out of control after you unintentionally talk back

word count — 9.2k

warnings — 18 + MDNI, age gap (reader 24, lalo 44), gunplay, controlling/threatening behavior, unhinged responses, established relationship, ass play, vulgar, demeaning speech, hair pulling, rusty spanish (sorry), natural bodies with hair & curves, TOXIC

author's note — i have no excuses…i just hope this reaches the right type of people xoxo

upcoming fics/wip

what did you expect to happen when giving lip to lalo salamanca? he already made it clear that you were disposable, useless, and only used your dumb little mouth to take his cock. you were a piece of arm candy, a sweet little treat only meant for him and him only. if lalo didn't care about you then you'd be buried in the desert, but lalo cared—to an extent. the extenuating circumstances of his care meant you weren't allowed to interrupt him, be mouthy, or interfere with his business dealings. that was simple enough, but unfortunately, you slipped up today after a very long spell of good behavior.

it was as hot as a day in hell, and you were lounging on a pool float, occasionally spooning water onto your stomach and chest. that little neon green string bikini didn't leave much to the imagination, but it didn't matter seeing as everyone was more interested in the drinks, music, and hired women. lalo knew how to throw a party, a little morale booster, to celebrate an increase in territory which in turn turned more profitable.

your drink in the pool cooler had floated too far away; the most difficult task was being unable to keep the miniature ice chest closer so you wouldn't have to go without your fix of the fruity seltzers lalo always kept stocked for you. imagine that you, the young, hot fiancè, have no other issues in the world other than your drink floating away and keeping lalo happy. what a hard life, being fed with a silver spoon by a don of the cartel.

the laziness was apparent when you slid off the raft and had to wade over to the fleeting cooler. you adjusted your rounded sunglasses on the bridge of your nose as you made your way across the length of the pool. you moved sluggishly, letting out an exaggerated sigh as you managed to capture the floating drink holder.

lalo was standing in the water, leaning over the edge of the pool to play his next hand of cards. he folded, tossing them to the center of the low fold-out table, a curse leaving his mouth. he ran a hand through his graying hair. the ends of his shirt were wet from resting in the pool water. the light pink shirt was unbuttoned, which left just enough of his chest uncovered to not be indecent, yet somehow more sexy because he looked so put together.

lalo had folded at the turn and was slightly perturbed that he wasn't able to have any luck as the cards were overturned. he couldn't continue to bluff when he knew vasquez, a short portly man sporting three thick golden chains, who was responsible for the product transportation routes definitely had good cards. he kept smirking around the rim of the red solo cup he used to spit out his chewing tobacco. lalo knew he could stay in through the river, but knew vasquez wouldn't fold ultimately leading to lalo's loss during the showdown.

another round began. all seven players had placed their initial bets to begin.

“amor⁽ˡᵒᵛᵉ⁾,” lalo called softly, using two of his fingers to gesture you over. “give me some luck,” he said looking at his new hand of cards once they were dealt. “solo un poco⁽ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃ ˡᶦᵗᵗˡᵉ⁾,” he insisted, pointing to his cheek.

this hand didn't seem to be in lalo’s favor either seeing as the highest card he was dealt was a five of clubs and that was paired with a three of hearts.

you rolled your eyes though it went unnoticed because your sunglasses were shielding your eyes. you dragged the miniature ice chest with you, gliding it through the water behind you. lalo’s mustached face revealing a sly smirk as you planted a kiss onto his cheek. your drink was in your hand, ready to return to the drifting pool float.

“stay with me,” lalo had a firm hold on your hip as you tried to pull away. he hadn’t had enough of you just yet. your oiled and exposed skin was enough to celebrate especially after having basically nothing to work with as the flop was revealed.

you stood in front of him with his arms wrapped around you. he had his chin placed on your head so he could still focus on his poker match. you moved your ice chest to the pavement so there was no chance that you'd have to exert any extra effort to chase it down again.

lalo was studying the group silently while listening to you run the poker chips through your fingers. the thick discs clicked together softly as you put them in their proper color-coded stacks instead of loosely sorted in front of him in his section of the table.

his wide nose pressed into your cheek, dragging up to your temple and then right above your ear. his breathing was even as breathed in your scent of coconut sun cream, a spritz of a hibiscus perfume, and the salt water.

you were looking at his cards, knowing his hidden annoyance would probably grow if those community cards wouldn't become any better. he raised the bet by another five hundred dollars, forcing the next two men to fold before the turn was revealed. he was hoping his ability to bluff this round would ultimately result in the overall win.

it was interesting to see how little lalo valued money. he had more than he knew what to do with, spending wads of cash on casual poker matches was nothing in comparison to the stacks of money he and the other salamancas were sitting on top of. even the men sitting across from lalo, unrelated to him, had more cash than they knew what to do with.

you couldn't deny your carelessness as well; you had everything you wanted plus more all because of lalo. your swimwear might not have been designer, but the pareo you carelessly threw on the pool chair before getting in the saltwater was pucci, and so were the matching shoes. now the singular piece of wavy patterned coverage and vibrant sandals were discarded. the tortoiseshell printed glasses from neiman marcus that you bought with you into the resort-style pool brought your outfit of very few pieces to cost right over seventeen hundred dollars—now, that was simply pocket change. that was, of course, without mentioning the price of the princess-cut diamond engagement ring that lalo had hired some foreign jewelry expert to design.

so, yes, you were a good, little spoiled fiancè, dumbing yourself down just enough to please lalo, accept his every will, and stay the fuck out of his way to keep receiving the treatment he had promised you. he didn’t want to be alone—correction—he didn’t have to be alone, so why wouldn’t he pick someone pretty, yet still impressionable enough to control.

you dug into the cooler, taking your seltzer to your mouth. the cold sweat from the outside of the can dripped onto your chest. you swallowed the fizzy alcohol, a sickly sweet blend of trouble because it tasted more like candy rather than the tipsy blend of liquor it contained.

lalo’s nose was buried in your hair as you continued to drink. a stream of the cold canned seltzer beaded down your chest, splashing between your cleavage. a stray few droplets flecked onto the cement immediately being absorbed into the searing ground.

the fellow card players noticed you more than the ladies being paid who sat next to them. their wandering eyes finding you, becoming easily more relaxed on the cushions and beach towels they were sitting on.

“ten cuidado⁽ʷᵃᵗᶜʰ ʸᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᶠ/ᵇᵉ ᶜᵃʳᵉᶠᵘˡ⁾,” lalo mumbled into your ear. his mustache grazed the lowest part of your helix, just above your ear lobe, brushing into contact with the three small rings. they were pierced one on top of the other.

you stiffened in his hold, setting down your drink next to his empty bottles of modelo. you looked at the stout bottles and cleared your throat. a flush had risen on your cheeks, embarrassed from the lingering gazes and drink mishap.

lalo couldn't blame anyone else for looking at you because even when working in his study he made you sit by him so he could watch you. it was like you existed to be stared at.

“i’ll be right back with another drink for you,” you offered, collecting the three empty bottles from his area of the table.

you didn’t give him a chance to deny it. you parted ways from him. his arms were bowed out wide as if you were still standing in front of him as you left. he was still lingering on the fact that your body was against him only moments prior.

you held the scolding railing as you dragged yourself out of the pool heading to the outdoor bar. you passed the caterers who had overtaken the patio area and helped yourself to the fridge pulling out a fresh bottle of unopened modelo.

“helping yourself today, chica⁽ᵍᶦʳˡ⁾?” ignacio “nacho” varga, a frequent goer of lalo’s social events questioned from his stool. he wanted no part in another poker game after lalo’s pestering from the first round. he tried his best to be a good sport but was finding it hard to focus with a gnat in his ear. a gnat he would never be able to shoo.

ignacio was under the covered patio, leaning against one hand. although he was in a shaded area, he could still feel the sun on his bare back, beads of sweat were on his forehead even with the ceiling fans circulating the area. his glass was dripping from the condensation occasionally making him wipe the droplets on his paisley-patterned swim trunks.

“no, helping mi bebé⁽ᵐʸ ᵇᵃᵇʸ⁾,” you corrected nacho while wiggling the beer bottle.

ignacio wasn’t surprised by that answer. no one at that party would've been surprised by that answer. you were devoted to lalo, and he liked it that way. he wouldn't put up with anything less.

“you don’t seem like you’re having any fun.”

your head peaked up at nacho’s assessment of your attitude. you were plucking olives out of a chilled dish and taking a handful of them.

“cards never were my strong suit,” you shrugged, placing a salty snack into your mouth. your left eye slightly twitched, moments prior you were dropping sugary onto your taste buds and now the olives were counteracting every taste of saccharine.

“they aren’t mine either, but definitely not when i’m taking lalo in large doses,” he teased, taking a long drink from his short glass. by this point in the day, he probably made himself an ungodly amount of mixed drinks, trying to look busy enough to not join the other men for poker again.

“what?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing together. you were trying to figure out if you heard him correctly. he didn't bash lalo, but he definitely made a comment opposing him.

“i never was good at figuring him out,” nacho leaned against his hand, sliding his half-empty drink forward as if he was telling himself to give up on his solo drinking. “i don’t know how you do it every day.”

he wasn't being condescending or rude. he genuinely was questioning how you did it, hell, a lot of people did. you always were properly dolled up any time you made an appearance with lalo, kept your mouth shut, and seemed like a hired servant doing whatever he mentioned.

you shrugged as you slid the cover of the ice well closed on the counter. it concealed the olives, cut citrus, and other garnishes that needed to be chilled. you could feel beads of water still occasionally running down your legs from your soaked bathing suit.

you could hear laughter coming from the poker table, specifically lalo’s. you didn't know if he was the most distinct or if you were just more accustomed to hearing it.

“i never figured him out either,” you confessed, your eyes trailing up to make eye contact with him. a smile cracked at the corner of your mouth.

nacho chuckled, taking his drink back into his hand. he could drink to that. “so, the senorita does have a mind?”

“i never claimed i didn’t,” you said looking back at the card players. your fiancé’s voice had only grown louder. he seemed to be in better spirits, maybe his luck had finally turned around even with a poor starting hand, or even if it hadn't lalo had chosen to hide his annoyance.

soon your conversation turned to wedding planning and all the endless dates, fittings, and projects you were busy with. lalo’s beer was growing a little warmer and the olives in your hand soon diminished.

at the table, the card players were taking sips of their drinks as they bantered. lalo was occasionally glancing at you and ignacio. this wasn't the first, nor would it be the last time ignacio would visit lalo’s mansion. he took notice of your body language, watching as you casually leaned in as you spoke, the way your fingers gripped the drink you should've brought back to him by now, and the way you stood with one hip slightly higher than the other.

“amor,” lalo called halting your conversation with ignacio. “coming back?” he questioned, peeking his head over to you.

you held your finger up to lalo as if a normal person had interrupted you and you needed to excuse yourself. this was no normal person; it was eduardo salamanca.

“it’s scheduled for valentine’s day next year,” you reminded nacho.

“yeah, that's right, lovebirds,” he joked, remembering the bright-colored sketches of the lovebirds on the save-the-date invitation he had received by mail. that intricate and vivid envelope stamped with a lime green seal was now sitting in a pile of odd junk mail next to his whores’ cutting tray.

“amor,” lalo called again, throwing his arms up curiously. he was trying to act casually as if he wasn't feeling pestered by being ignored. you normally would have responded immediately, and yet your eyes were still on the shirtless ignacio attempting to wrap up your conversation.

you gestured lazily back to the card table. “i better get back, but you're welcome to—” you were cut off when you were inviting nacho back to the group.

“amor,” lalo repeated for what he hoped to be the final time, wading through the water closer to the side of the pool near the bar. he knew you could hear him, yet you were trying to be polite to nacho by finishing your conversation.

“give me just a moment, please,” you requested, looking over at lalo directly. you didn't even notice why you shouldn't have said that until it was too late. you were already forcing him to wait, and now, even in your nicest tone, you were not making him your good priority.

“like i said, you're more than welcome to join us again,” you turned back to ignacio as you spoke. he was about to take your offer, standing and refilling his glass with the bottle he had beside him.

lalo was now out of the pool, his arm snugly around your waist. you could feel wet swim trunks pushing against the back of you. he took you into his arms again. he didn't take the offering of his drink. his thumbs were hooked into the band of your bikini again slightly exposing your tan line as he secured his fingers.

“nachito, you keeping my lady to yourself now?” lalo had that iconic smile on his face. anyone who met him would remember it. the one that made his cheeks and mustache lift. the smile that brought out the wrinkles in his eyes. the one you thought loosened his hardened nature. you could feel the lightness in his voice as he spoke.

“she was talking about your wedding,” nacho said as a smirk began to play on the corner of his mouth. “i don't think i could keep up with her like you do.”

ignacio knew how to play. no one had lalo completely figured out, and just as nacho had previously stated, he didn't have lalo figured out, but knowing how to play his game was the way to stay preserved in lalo’s vicious circle.

“i think i’m getting too old because i went with her to the bakery to test the cake and i was winded on the way back to the car,” lalo chuckled. you tried to adjust your stance although your fiancè wasn't allowing you to move. that slight uncomfortably was enough to silence your giggle and feel smaller than you were.

“oh no, you're still kicking it,” nacho brushed off lalo’s comment casually, his eyes glancing back to you. “i don't expect some cake to get in your way.”

“i don't know, some of it might,” lalo teased, moving one of his hands to firmly grasp your ass, giving it a shake.

“if it gets in the way, make her hold it,” nacho jested, though you weren’t unamused.

that was how it always went. everyone wanted to appease lalo even if the joke was at your expense. so, the pleasant conversation you had with ignacio had turned into a bawdy attempt to humor lalo.

lalo took his hand off of your ass extending it to ignacio which he graciously shook.

“i knew i liked you, nachito,” lalo praised, now pointing his finger toward the shorter male. “she’s sure got a lot of it, huh?” he asked, nudging you forward.

ignacio shrugged, holding his hands up in defense. “too much woman for me,” he admitted, giving you a gentle glance. his eyes said enough. he was apologizing without having to say anything. “but the perfect amount for you.”

“don't be modest, nachito, give her a feel,” lalo said, pushing you even closer to ignacio. “i don’t think you're giving yourself enough credit,” he insisted. his arms were crossed over his chest as he watched ignacio.

lalo’s mind games were just a little too intense sometimes. lalo wasn't jealous of ignacio he was jealous of the attention you had given him. he didn't care that ignacio was a muscle pig or closer to your age. lalo had something ignacio didn't—the ability to ignite fear in you. he was able to make you uncomfortable, yet intoxicatingly in love with him in one fell swoop.

“lalo, no, she's your business, not mine,” nacho’s hands were resting by his side, hoping lalo’s prodding would end quickly. that gnat sure did know how to soar high.

they were talking about you like you weren't there. your head looked back to lalo. an uncomfortable pout across your face was met by your fiance’s hand patting your cheek.

“oh, you're telling me this little face is too much for you?” lalo gripped your cheeks turning your head back towards nacho, slightly distorting your face as he turned you back.

“too much and also not mine to try,” he stood firmly on his words.

the moment lalo loosened his fingers you spoke. “bebé, i’m going to see if anyone else needs anything,” you had to pause their conversation for the sake of your own sanity.

“i hired caterers to do that, not for you to serve them hot cervezas y coño⁽ᵇᵉᵉʳˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵘˢˢʸ⁾,” lalo chuckled, placing a kiss on your temple. you looked down at the modelo bottle in your hand with a huff.

“i tried to give it to you while it was cold,” you pushed your sunglasses onto your head. it was clear that the sun had been brutal because even with the application of sun cream there was red resting atop your tanned cheeks. the bridge of your nose had two faint lines etched into it from your glasses.

“did you now?” lalo asked, taking the golden beer bottle from your hand, and holding the neck of the bottle. his thumbs worked to push the shiny foil down and bent the cap back against the side of the patio bar, leaving a permanent scuff in the wood.

he took a quiet drink, his eyes closing, and his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

“amor,” lalo paused, scooting the bottle onto the bar. he cleared his throat, taking his sweet time with it.

ignacio had been awkwardly standing there, unsure of what to say or do. his employer’s comments about you had gone from joking to seriously uncomfortable. lalo’s possessiveness over you was nothing new, but unfortunately ignacio, just like you, had become a victim in his new game today.

“this is the worst fuckin’ beer i’ve ever had,” lalo’s face dropped, making your eyes instantly wide. his smile lines were no longer smiling, sitting unhappily at the corners of his mouth. his eyebrows were slightly furrowed.

you pulled your arms to your chest, your lips parting to speak. “i tried to give it to you ten minutes ago when you came to join us,” you shook your head, eyeing the opened bottle on the counter. “that one was colder than the stuff you were sipping on,” you retorted without thinking. “and you've had three of those all of which sat in the sun longer than this one has even been out of the fridge.”

ignacio’s hand raised to try and interject the conversation but was met with lalo’s laughter.

lalo patted the bar stool as he guided you over to sit. his head dipped to lean against your forehead, still chuckling away. you cautiously sat, trying to laugh along with him although finding it hard to see the humor in his joke. nacho was doing the same uncomfortable chortle. lalo really knew how to command a group of people.

“just fuckin’ with you, amorcito,” he smiled, kissing both of your cheeks as he held your face.

lalo placed a drawn-out, over-the-top, lengthy kiss onto your lips. a kiss that no one in their right mind would ever want to be a victim of watching—tongue and all, as lalo tilted your head back, letting his hands wander. ignacio was biting the inside of his cheek so he wouldn't cringe. his eyes darted away multiple times wondering when it would be over. his fingers drummed against his leg and his toes were slightly curled. it was hard to watch. very hard to watch.

lalo pulled away like it was nothing while you sat there a bit stunned and puffy-lipped. your fiancè had gone from perturbed to comical to sultry on a whim. that was probably the most unsettling part about him.

“up for another round of cards?” he questioned nacho, lightly pinching the bit of fat on your side where his tattooed name sat on you. the cursive letters being prodded by his fingers made your mind snap together. that’s when you realized you had fucked up.

you didn't know if it was because the summer heat was unprecedentedly hot, or maybe because you had accidentally skipped lunch, or even if it was because you had one too many seltzers, but when the realization hit that you had ignored him just a few moments prior and now you had sassed him.

anytime he corrected you, even slightly, made your stomach churn. lalo was a man of many faces, but the one he chose when reprimanding you was one you disliked. pinching your side looked affectionate but it was always his sign of saying ‘watch yourself.’

“uh, yeah, another round sounds great,” ignacio had wasted no time beginning his trek back to the table after that mind fuck.

“amor, why don't you go and freshen up then help yolanda with her pozole?” he suggested to you with a gentle smile. another code for ‘get in the fuckin’ bedroom and don't come out.’

the walk back to the bedroom was embarrassing. maybe not for anyone else, but for you it definitely was. your throat was tight and your shoulders were tense.

lalo was calculated and smart, but when it came to you he became stupid and irrational. what man didn’t change when a woman had him wrapped around her finger? although his irrational tendencies with you wouldn't start until the last guest from the party left.

you went from pacing to sitting, knowing it wouldn't do you any good to keep worrying. no matter how much pleading and begging you would do it wouldn't be enough. lalo had made up his mind from the moment the words left your mouth.

you hadn't changed out of the damp swimsuit or even taken your sunglasses off. the most you had done was slide your sandals off, and that was at the front of the house only because you didn't want to be reprimanded again for having yolanda, the housekeeper, doing any extra work.

lalo swung open the door to the bedroom, grabbed his gun off the dresser. your eyes widened, scooching back on the bed. he maneuvered the slide back, efficiently racking the black pistol back and loading a bullet into the chamber. your breath halted, wondering if today was the day that lalo was finally fed up with you, wondering if this would officially be the last moments you spent with him.

he hadn't forgotten a single thing in the two hours he left you to sit and dwell on your actions. he had time to stew and fester. if anything his anger was stronger.

“get up,” he demanded.

however, it wasn't fast enough for his liking because soon he was dragging you by the shoulder and forcing you to the wall.

you shut your eyes as his movement became rougher, the barrel of the gun pressed against your lower back as he guided your legs and feet apart with his armed hand.

his wrist prodded your inner thighs, forcing you to spread further apart. you tried to steady yourself against the wall as you moved your legs apart but were tripped by his brutal enforcement. his unspoken demands were filled with fury just as his spoken ones were.

you were eying him, trying to look over your shoulder. you wanted to read his face. you needed to know if there was more to him than just anger. you wanted to know if your sweet little eyes could give you a glimmer of hope to calm him down.

those sweet little eyes were the same eyes you used when you begged for him on a nightly basis. he was overlooking them—dumb and routine, the same bullshit you always pulled to get your way. not now, he wouldn’t pay any attention to them now.

you hadn’t seen him this way in a while; you hadn’t caused him to be this way in a while. business dealings that went awry, skeevy rats trying to take down the salamancas, lost product, all of that was different, but you, his pretty little toy, had done it. you knew what happened to the others who had interfered, so why wouldn’t you be any different?

that ounce of care—well, mindful attentiveness—that lalo had for you was disregarded at this moment. he didn’t care who you were. he didn’t care about the five years he had spent with you. all of those little times he had remembered letting his guard down around you while you stroked the curled hair on his chest were squandered.

his eyebrows were furrowed together and his forehead wrinkles were prominent. he seemed determined and fueled by his unhinged distrust in you. losing thousands of dollars in a poker game prodded at his agitation, chatting casually with a man he had introduced you to countless times before was enough to irritate him, ignoring him when he spoke provoked him, but you talking back caused him to lose control.

that gun was shoved between your thighs as he held your head against the wall. his slender fingers were laced haphazardly in your hair, gripping at anything he could. he didn’t care about your flinching or attempting to push yourself away from the wall. it was a feeble attempt anyway; lalo had more control over you than you liked in this moment.

“what were you thinking, huh?” his voice lowered, though previously the grip lalo had on your hair only tightened, smushing your cheek further into the rust-colored wall of the bedroom.

“i was—” the barrel of the gun slid across the thin covering of your bikini making your legs tremble. you immediately stopped speaking. how could you speak when lalo was inching his semi-automatic pistol to your entrance? the neon fabric pressed into your hole concealing the cold muzzle.

“no, you weren't thinking,” lalo spat. you recoiled as his be took his hand out of your hair and flicked your temple. “you didn't think at all before you kept talking,” he repeated harshly this time, a bit of spit leaving his mouth from his sharp tongue.

“lalo—” you pleased softly, teary-eyed from being so roughly slammed against the bedroom wall.

“and you still don't know how to shut the hell up,” he ranted, tugging at the knots to the elastic straps on your waist. the bikini bottoms fell. lalo shook them off the barrel of the gun. the front sight was back at your entrance.

“you think it’s cute to do that in front of ignacio?” he asked, tapping the gun against your hole. his other hand was untying the two straps to the bikini top. your breasts fell. the little support they did have in that skimpy top was at least saving some of your modesty.

you didn't say a single word, how could you when he was uncontrollably angry about you speaking?

“i said, do you think it is cute to do that in front of ignacio?” lalo repeated his words slower. his words were condescending.

“i-i don't k—”

he huffed, rolling his eyes. he flicked your temple again. his gun was caressing your inner thighs, prodding slowly at your entrance. he wanted you to be prepared to take it. he couldn't waste you before he fucked it one more time.

“such a dumb little thing, it’s a yes or no question, so use that brain between those empty little eyes and answer me.”

“no,” you mumbled, closing your eyes tightly as if you were waiting on the trigger pull as you felt the gun lift from your lower half.

“so, why the fuck are you talking to me like that?” his hand wrapped around your upper arm, pulling you to face him. he was overlooking your body. the hand he used to adjust your positioning was now holding your face.

“i didn't—”

“oh, you didn't mean to?” lalo interrupted, completing your sentence for you.

you were looking up at him, silently pleading again. looking through your eyelashes at him, your lower lip trembling. you were trying not to break down completely, knowing your tears most definitely wouldn't help.

“didn't mean to,” he repeated with a scoff. he removed his hand from your chin harshly, making your head flick to the side. you faced him again, the guilty expression on your face still evident. you were like a dog with its tail between its legs.

“you didn't mean to,” lalo tsked, having to hear the words come out of his mouth again. “of course you didn't mean to,” lalo was nodding slowly. he adjusted the pistol in his hand, feeling the textured handle. he held it out to you. he had a steady grip on it flipping his hand from one side to the other to present the gun to you.

“amor, what’s in my hand?” he asked, clenching the grip panel and the front strap.

“your gun,” you responded, swallowing hard as he lifted it to your forehead, placing it right between your eyes. you closed your eyes tightly, feeling him push your head back against the wall with the muzzle.

“mhm,” lalo agreed, satisfied with your answer. “look at me when i’m talking to you,” he reminded you. you opened your eyes hesitantly, looking straight ahead. your vision was unfocused due to his hand and pistol blocking most of your view.

“now, do you think i should pull this trigger?” he questioned, prodding your forehead again. a soft thud was heard from the back of your head clicking against the wall.

“no, lalo,” you breathed out. that’s when the tears started to fall. the sniffling came with it.

“don’t start,” lalo groaned, taking his free hand and wiping under each of your eyes as you tried to calm yourself. you tried to stand straight, having to catch yourself as you slouched.

you felt defeated, belittled, and downright humiliated, standing naked in the bedroom you and your fiancè shared knowing your family would be none the wiser if you were alive or dead after this day, not like they had any idea as of now.

“why shouldn't i pull it?” lalo asked, his thumb caressing the grip plate. “and before you answer, make it worth my time, not just because you ‘don't want to die.’” he said mockingly, rolling his eyes. he was already sick of the sniveling.

you took a deep breath, biting your bottom lip trying to collect your thoughts. what would make lalo salamanca have sympathy?

nothing. nothing at all.

you were uneasy trying to find even the smallest amount of something in the brain that lalo always deemed was empty.

“because i live for you,” you mumbled, exhaling as you felt a bit of pressure being taken off your forehead. he lifted your chin with the barrel of his gun, looking you directly in the eyes. the tears started again, though your sniffling was contained by your body occasionally doing small jerks so you wouldn't outwardly cry.

you weren't completely wrong. you did live for him—well, because of him anyway. he had spared your life, taken you in, and trained you accordingly. you were going to get married to him because he asked you to do it. you had everything because of him.

lalo made a soft fawning noise, wiping your tears again. “you came up with that all by yourself, amor? maybe there is some potential still left in that hollow little head.”

he leaned his forehead down, placing it on yours, closing his eyes. “now, tell me now how stupid you think i am to believe it,” he gave a smug smile, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. a quick peck that only lasted a second but that left a lingering flutter between the both of you.

you never understood how he could go from making you terrified to wanting him. he had you wrapped around his finger and able to control your every whim.

useless, mortified, deflated—no matter what bad lalo brought upon you he always managed to easily weasel his way into what he wanted, and in this moment he wanted you.

“i don't think you’re stupid.”

“see, if you could've been this well-behaved earlier i wouldn't have to be so rough with you, amor, but you can't ever just make things easy for me.” lalo lectured. he pulled the gun away from your chin, letting it fall. he tapped the barrel against his lips, the muzzle brushing against his mustache. “now, get on your knees like you do for me.”

you cautiously got down. execution-style seemed a little excessive for talking out of place, but lalo had his cynical methods. your hands quivered in your lap as his thumb guided your mouth open.

instinctively your mouth fell into position, nice and slack, as lalo’s amusement only grew larger. in a demented little way, he liked how fearful you were. he liked the way the anticipation was causing faint perspiration to lay across your neck and forehead.

he placed the tip of the gun into your mouth. a wincing could be seen in your eyes as he brought the barrel further into your mouth, not that you couldn't take it, but he was testing you seeing if you'd move from the position he had requested. you wanted to move your head as your entire body started to rattle again.

he patted your cheek with his free hand signifying you to close your mouth. you had been in this position many times before, though instead of sucking the head of a gun you were wrapped around the head of his cock.

the metallic taste of the heckler and koch was enough to make you gag on the spot. lalo didn't care, nor did he stop until your bottom lip was pressing into the trigger guard. his index finger was stroking the trigger.

“not wanting to say anything now?” he jabbed the gun further, though his index finger now laid to the side of the trigger. it made you flinch, thinking even with his hand pulled away from the trigger it would cause the bullet to come speeding through the chamber. you slouched slightly, earning a sharp nudge with his foot, correcting your unsuitable posture.

you couldn't say anything, not that you wanted to, knowing it would result in a swift slap or even worse him actually pulling that trigger. you knew you couldn't test his patience anymore because the game he was playing was only for his benefit, not to give you more time to live.

he started slowly working the barrel in your mouth, as I'd trying to find the right fit as he repeated his repetitive in and out motion. this free hand was now stabilizing your head, gripping the mess he had made with it earlier.

it was nowhere near as satisfying as the fit of his thick girth in your mouth, but even he couldn't deny that he had created an image that would haunt his brain—shit, it would rewire it for the better. his slack-mouthed bitch taking his gun so well. making the steel so slick and pretty, somehow even better than he ever did when cleaning it.

“take it, amor,” lalo berated, as he became rougher with his movements. the clunky metal entering further, the trigger guard forcefully spurring into your bottom lip, the only cushion and protection for your bottom teeth. a soft whimper was escaping your lips and his hand was forcing more of a connection of your mouth to the gun. “fucking take it while you can.”

he was fucking your mouth good, the kind that made the saliva pool into your lap and run into the cracks of your neatly placed, but quivering hands.

his cock in his pants slightly twitching as he watched with interest, letting your mouth satisfy that odd urge inside of himself. you noticed it too, his well-endowed member increasingly becoming more excited as you were only more dehumanized by his words.

“see, this is what you're meant for, listening,” he huffed, trying to reiterate the fact that other than being his little toy you were useless. his began to get overzealous with his armed carry, knocking the front sight against the bottom of your top teeth. you tried to extend your jaw more without parting your lips, but the raised sight kept scraping the bottom.

“listening and not showing your ass out in front of the men that work for me,” lalo added, shoving the pistol harder. your eyes closed for a brief second as you winced from the sight chipping the slightest bit out of your top tooth. you could feel the tiny white fragment floating in your mouth. lalo felt part of your tooth give way, taking his firearm out of your mouth.

“let’s see what i broke this time,” the annoyance was evident in his tone as you looked up at him further so he could inspect your tooth. he wasn't checking because he cared, mostly because he wanted to see the damage he inflicted.

he unlaced his hold from your hair, tugging it as he tried to flick the few loose strands from it. his thumb felt the top portion of your teeth. it was barely noticeable, though enough for lalo to find and inspect the fragment he pulled out of your mouth. he then caressed the forming bruise right below your bottom lip from the trigger guard being rammed into your face.

he rolled his eyes, flicking the chipped portion of your tooth away, a small click signifying it had hit the hardwood somewhere else in the room.

“get on the fuckin’ bed ass up, so i don't have to see that shit.”

lalo wasted no time getting behind your naked body. his gun placed on the duet as two of his slender fingers buried themselves in your slick arousal.

“and you see that?” he pulled his fingers out harshly, holding them in front of your face. “about to blow your fuckin’ head off and you get goddamn wet.”

he was taunting you still, and yet you had no excuse for your overly stimulated cunt producing ungodly amounts of wetness. he was right. he was always right. the sheer dominance alone was only partially the reason behind your body’s reaction to him.

he tugged down his swim trunks, letting them grace his ankles. you were glancing over your shoulder seeing very little at the angle you were in. you wanted to, like the little whore for lalo you were, you wanted to see what you were pleasuring. you had an imprinted metal image of his large veiny cock, but you would be lying if you weren't excited to see it every time he dropped his pants.

he let out a low whistle as he gathered more of your wet slick onto his fingers and began to slowly jack off his length. you were trying to turn your head, feeling a painful ache in your neck as you craned too far back.

he knew working his own hand up and down his shaft was killing you. god, he had just let your mouth get fucked by his pistol rather than the deadly snake in his pants.

his pinky and ring finger were guiding the majority of his length as his thumb stroked his tip. your wetness was aiding him, but he could tell you were becoming restless. your knees were padding into the bed and your fingers were fidgeting with the duvet.

every time he went back for more of your sweet wetness you were trying to push back on his fingers trying to entice him into leaving them for a moment longer.

you could feel the handgun nudging your knee as it slid closer each time the bed even slightly rattled from movement. that was a quick reminder that you still weren't safe, but somehow, without lalo immediately sticking his dick in you was more torturous than having a gun to your head.

“you can't expect me to want to fuck you after you didn't listen,” he scoffed, nudging you forward keeping your hips in line with your knees. your head dropped down, your nose nuzzling into the sheets.

“you aren't worth a nut if you have some piss-poor attitude attached to you,” he stuck his fingers inside of you again, curling them ever so slightly this time. a soft moan left your lips.

he placed his hand back on his solid cock, working the arousal up and down. “but you don't care. you know i give you whatever the hell you want,” he ranted, placing his free hand on your ass to spread your cheeks further apart for a better view of your slick cunt.

“that’s why i have to act like such an asshole right now because you started expecting things without asking for them.”

his fingers were soon back inside of you as he rambled. “i’m fed up with you treating me like i owe you something.” lalo moved closer you could feel his knuckles begin to graze your skin as he worked your arousal around his cock.

his words were loaded and ridiculous, but you couldn't help but utter the smallest apology. his head slightly tilted as he heard it, stopping the jerking of his hand and pulling your hips even closer. you could feel his shaft against your backside.

“dear fucking god, that’s worse than you crying, amor,” he complained, prodding his dick forward against your wet hole. “some shitty little apology?” he exhaled. “i’m gonna have to use all your little holes to make up for this.”

you were gnawing lightly on the interior of your cheek in anticipation. he was giving in to what you wanted even if that meant giving a little extra.

he ran his clean hand through his salt and peppered hair, dragging it down his chest, and positioning his cock right at your entrance, giving not an ounce of mercy as he pushed his girthy cock into your desperate cunt.

“oh—” you couldn't fully formulate the rest of the words you wanted to say. your breath halted as your muffled gasp hit the duvet.

that tight grip you had on him was enough for him to understand why he kept you around for so long. your pussy was flawless to him; it was the one thing he never had to correct—the one thing he never wanted to correct.

he had one knee propped up guiding you back slightly so his entire length would be sheathed in that gorgeous cunt of yours. his hand had released from spreading your ass and instead guiding your stomach back pinching the soft pudge as he adjusted to the warm hold you were providing him with.

your manicured nails dug into the bed, as he began driving his cock into you. you couldn't understand why it was so satisfying, having him take complete and utter control over your body. he easily made you fall apart with the pleasure he delivered.

lalo’s mouth was slightly agape as he watched the jiggle your ass as he rammed into you. even though he was always reluctant to admit it he was wrapped around your finger and that was mostly due to the sweet pussy you brought into the relationship.

“hold that ass for me,” he demanded, adjusting the positioning of your hips as your hands became situated, around your ass cheeks.

you moved your neck uncomfortably, having to dig your shoulders further into the bed in an attempt to keep yourself in a stable position without falling.

the way you opened up for him was divine. full spread, displaying your holes, one clutching his length as he continued to thrust into you. your ass hole twitched as he kept fucking you.

your face was almost fully buried, smelling the breath from your fruity seltzers being recycled to your nose alongside the gentle cotton-scented washing detergent from the bedding.

he was stretching you just right, just how you needed. the urge of sexual desire was so strong that he forced you to wait as he played with himself.

your erect nipples were being stimulated as his rough thrusts moved your body against the bed. your hands were desperately trying to keep to their instructed place so lalo could watch himself inside of you.

you were enjoying yourself a little more than you should've been, even lalo didn't mind. those sweet whiny moans meant he was fucking you the right way—his preferred way.

the gun that was lingering to the side of your leg was not only pressing onto you but on lalo. he was looking at the black steel, an idea surfacing—or adding to the idea he already had.

lalo slowed his rough movements, leaning his head down, a heap of spit landing on your back door. he made quick work with his thumb, plunging it into the clenched sphincter. this wasn't the first time lalo had decided to use all of your body, but dear god, each time he did you needed to refocus because it always took you by surprise even if he announced his arrival.

a rigid pant left your body, glancing back at him picking up the gun was enough to incite another panic as he lazily fingered your ass with his opposable digit. he was focused and determined to make his pistol fit. his brows were slightly furrowed as he acclimated your ass to his finger again. he figured if you had taken his cock then you were more than capable of taking just the first few inches of the gun’s barrel just as your mouth had.

lalo was liberal with his spit; he wanted his idea to be executed correctly.

he stroked the barrel of the gun with his lubricated hand and began edging it into your ass hole. his dick was throbbing inside of your cunt. your nails dug into your ass cheeks as the handgun entered you. it was upside down to keep the area he wanted to later thrust into clear and available.

“taking that even better than my cock,” he muttered, watching your skin expand around the tepid steel. what did he expect? you had to be good at something to have stayed with him for this long.

his head dipped as your ass fully accepted the barrel of the gun. your eyes rolled to the back of your head. your under eyelid twitched. you felt so incredibly stuffed.

lalo’s hand supported the semi-automatic pistol in your ass as his unsatisfied cock began moving again. he had no concept of ‘this might be too much.’

his hips were pressed into yours with each thrust he gave as if it was incomplete without being completely inside of you with each movement. it was hard for him to hold back with you. you were just so goddamn easy for him to push around; which was, of course, all due to his dutiful training and development he put you through.

being in his mid-forties didn't slow him down. if anything it made him more relentless, trying to prove himself. his body may have more years on it than yours, but even with that being the case he knew his purpose with you at all times.

“so fuckin’ tight, that little pussy has some grab,” he praised from behind you. the hand on the gun occasionally pushed in further, keeping his hand firmly on the handle. his other hand supported one of your wrists in keeping your ass spread.

the wet squelching noises he was creating just from being deep in your walls made his head tilt back. beads of sweat leaked from his face from the sheer amount of effort he was exerting.

your noises of pleasure were covering his own low groans of enjoyment. he was angry, yet still praising you for your sexy body even if it meant he was calling you dumb for only being able to use your body to make him happy. you didn't care, how could you? not when you had a thick length inside of you—his first favorite toy, and then being plugged with his second favorite toy—his gun.

dear god. he had it all the right way. hitting exactly what he needed when he needed to. you knew your body better than you knew it yourself. you were at lalo’s mercy, letting him ravage your pussy and ass as he wanted.

he was so deep inside of you, and your pussy allowed it, swallowing his girthy cock like a fine wine as he forced himself in until he was banging against your cervix.

the vaginal penetration alone was enough to make your mind too dumb, but the more he gave made you go null. so much overwhelming stimuli that caused dribbles of squirt to coat his cock and drop down to the pristine bedding.

“b-bebé,” you sputtered out, almost ignored because the sheets that had become bundled in your mouth muffled your noise. you were unwinding right before him, becoming so tense right before your orgasmic release, unknowing if he would even allow it after your spell of insolence. “p-please, c-come on please,” you managed to plead from your befuddled state.

lalo didn't have much more self-control left in himself either. he kept having to distract himself from the sight below him.

“fuck, let it go, amor,” he agreed as the hand on your wrist bared down harshly.

your back sweat glistened in the natural room lighting, the setting sun only warming the bedroom as it filtered through the windows. lalo’s long shadow casts over you, essentially ramming into you twice.

your eyes closed, having to lift your head just to breathe through your orgasm. a ridiculous noise between a scream and a whine filled the room as you pushed your ass back against him, taking a bit more of the clunky gun and stimulating more of lalo’s cock.

“stay just like that,” he demanded, as his rigid thrusts were coming to a sloppy end. you were riding on a high that was finally seeming to subside, though the aftermath caused your eyes to be droopy and low, stuttery moans to exit as his actions quickened in pace. he was chasing the end, although he would never deny being inside of you longer but he wanted to release.

with your hips and ass causing a pleasurable resistance, lalo drove himself to his climax, his chest pounding and the tops of his ears flushing red. he unloaded inside of you, not needing permission to release his cum in someone he already owned.

he hung inside of you for a few moments, having his eyes adjust to the scene before him as he removed his cock, watching his load spill from your puffy walls. he pulled the gun out slowly, watching your ass hole pucker again. he rubbed your anus softly, watching it clench as your pussy dripped more of his load.

gun in hand he turned you to his side, leaning next to you. he dragged the gun across your chest, prodding your nipples teasingly. you could barely move your arm enough to try and protect your sensitive chest.

he brushed some of your hair back with the pistol as he made himself comfortable next to your limp body.

lalo laid back, placing the gun to your temple. he turned on his side, holding your face so you would focus only on him. your eyes were still hazy, you could barely move, and you were waiting now since he had his fill. you thought lalo’s antics were so incredibly deranged—having seen you orgasm once more, the way he said you looked prettiest, and now was going to end you on the sleek white sheets from charlotte thomas.

his dark brown eyes were fixated on you, as you held the button placket of his pool shirt. he didn't have remorse for what he did. he had fun, though you couldn't read it on his face. you were waiting for him to lay your head down and fire.

at this point when he would allow the bullet to discharge, at least you would be relaxed, halfway buried in his chest in the comfortable bedding.

“if i wanted to kill you i would've done it already.” he tapped the gun’s muzzle against your head. “would've had that pretty little head splattered against that wall.” he gestured with the pistol to the wall he had previously slammed you against.

he gave a low chuckle, pushing the gun on the bedside table, grabbing your face. “just remember that, amor—remember that i can make that decision.”

lalo placed a kiss on your lips. your barely responsive body uttered a peck back to him in understanding his words.

[cherryblossomcowgirl]

The Night We Met

Inspired by Lord Huron’s “The Night We Met”

WC: 1.2k

TW: Cursing; abandonment; fear of loss; angst

.

.

The last few months had been hell. Forgetting Jake Seresin was no easy feat. I need somewhere to think. Somewhere to escape my house, that is now filled with memories of him. I decide to walk to my favorite part of the beach. The dunes are perfect to lay in and look up at the stars. Grabbing my blanket and lantern, I head out the back door of my house.

.

.

I am not the only traveler

Who has not repaid his debt

I've been searching for a trail to follow again

Take me back to the night we met

And then I can tell myself

What the hell I'm supposed to do

And then I can tell myself

Not to ride along with you

.

.

The stars are shining bright. The waves are crashing on the sand. But somehow, all I can think of is Jake. We met 8 months ago. In the span of a few months, he completely changed my life. Now I lay here, 4 months clean of him, wishing our paths had never crossed.

.

.

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Oh, take me back to the night we met

.

.

Jake broke down walls that took me years to build in a matter of days. His southern charm and million dollar smile came crashing in, wreaking havoc on my heart. Phoenix told me that he left for a mission 6 weeks ago. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t be thinking about him. But it is like his ghost is right here beside me. I close my eyes, thinking about the day Jake Seresin came into my life.

.

.

When the night was full of terrors

And your eyes were filled with tears

When you had not touched me yet

Oh, take me back to the night we met

.

.

FLASHBACK

*My eyes were glassy as I sit there with my feet in the water. The ocean has always been my safe place. I flip to the next chapter of my book as a football hits me in the side. My anger bubbles over, I stand up and hurl the ball back the direction it came from, “Watch out, asshole!” The football thuds into a man’s chest and he grunts, “Damn, you’ve got an arm.” I roll my eyes and turn back to the water. He yells out, “I’m sorry!” Not looking his way I respond, “I’m not!” The man chuckles and goes back to his game. A few chapters later, someone sits beside me. I hear the same southern accent as before, “I really am sorry about before. I’m Jake.” His hand reaches out and I shake it, “I’m Y/n.” He smiles, “Can I get you a drink? My friends and I brought a bunch of beers and seltzers.” “I’m okay but thank you.” “Do you want to play dogfight football with us? You have a pretty good arm on ya.” I sigh, “Honestly Jake, I’ve had a really shit day. I just wanted to come to the beach to read and forget about it. So thank you, but I will pass.” He runs his hand through his hair, “Then how about you let me take you to dinner sometime, as an apology.” “And why would you do that?” “Because somehow the football hit the prettiest girl I have ever laid my eyes on.”*

.

.

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

.

.

From that day forward, we were inseparable. Jake found any excuse to come by. I had never felt happier. After a couple months of bliss, Jake slowly started to pull away. I wracked my brain, wondering what I could have done to cause it. He stopped showing up without a warning. The goodnight calls turned into goodnight texts.. which then turned into nothing. When he would come around, we’d eat a meal and chat, but then he’d rush out the door. I sat there at my kitchen table, wondering how things changed so quickly.

.

.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Take me back to the night we met

.

.

I look up to the stars, sighing, “What am I supposed to do now?” The only answer I get is the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. Tears stream down my cheeks. I had heard things about him, word around here travels fast. But none of that bothered me. It wasn’t what he had shown me.. until he did. I curse myself for falling so quickly. How could I be so foolish? Headlights blind me as I start folding up my blanket. “Y/n?” The southern accent makes my heart jump to my throat. I grab my lantern and start walking, pretending like I didn’t hear. “Y/n! Please stop!” He’s caught up to me now, grabbing my arm, “Please, I need to talk to you.” I whip my head around, “Jake Seresin, I don’t want to hear what you have to say. You haven’t said a word to me for 4 months. 4 months! You told me that you loved me. You told me that you had never met anyone like me before. And then you slowly fade away! With no explanation, might I add. So no, you don’t get to talk to me. I wish I could go back to day and tell myself to walk a little further down the beach.” His eyes water, “You don’t mean that.” I lean in, “With every fiber of my being.” The way he looks at me makes me want to melt. And I hate the fact that I feel that way. How can you be so angry at someone and want them to kiss you at the same time? He closes the space between us, our noses practically touching, “I was scared and I ran. I’ve regretted it every single day, Y/n. I haven’t told a girl I loved her since my high school girlfriend! Then here I am, 1 month in, madly in love with you. Having nightmares that something happens on a mission, then you’re left alone. Dealing with the aftermath. For some reason, I thought leaving before it went any further would save you from that and I am sorry. I am so sorry, Y/n.” Tears threaten to spill over and I turn towards the ocean, wiping them away before turning back to him. “So you left me because you are madly in love me?” He sighs, “I know, it doesn’t make any sense. I tried to stay busy with work, but I can’t focus on anything but you.” I look at my hands, “You are all I can think about.” His green eyes meet mine, shining with hope, “Really?” I nod, “Yes, really. That’s why I came here tonight. My own house makes me think of you.” Jake pulls me into his chest and I breathe in the familiar scent. He kisses my head, “Can we start again?” I look up at him, “Deal.” Jake smiles and stretches out his hand, “Hi, I’m Jake.” I giggle and shake it, “Hi, I’m Y/n.” He takes my blanket and spreads it out, “Would you like to look at the stars with me?” “I would love to.” I lay my head on his chest and he plays with my hair, “This is a good night to meet the love of your life.”

[artificialstardust]

Okay I’m at the beach. It’s 1:08 in the afternoon. I’ve had two seltzers and have been collecting shells. So I’m thinking about Noah. Fucking obviously

Noah would have so much fun with a crow partner that just brings him every shiny thing they find at the beach. Just every find seconds “found you this” and this man smiles at every one and takes it.

He starts a small pile of the shells you bring him and it is already quite large at an hour in. He just lets you do your thing. A drink in one hand, shells in the other as you walk around the beach.

When you do go into the water he occasionally joins you. Sometimes you both bring boogie boards out and ride on some of the waves laughing. He also makes sure that you stay hydrated as well. And makes sure you have a snack or two as well as reapply sunscreen.

Then when you do finally go back to the beach house, he takes a shower with you because he likes the intimacy of that moment. He puts after sun lotion on your back when you’re done, then puts aloe on you as well. He knows you’re probably super tired so he asks what sounds good and finds the first place that has good reviews with what you suggested and takes you there. After dinner he drives back to the house. His hand on your thigh as you watch the lights of different places and cars pass by.

When you do get to the house, he puts more aloe on you before you put your pajamas on. Neither of you sleep with blankets that night from being warm from the sun still, but it doesn’t stop him from holding you close to him, one of the shells you brought him earlier sitting on the nightstand next to him.

[gowerhardcastle]

About Vyv

This is Vyv.

Vyv is one of the most important characters in the Jolly Good games, and one of the most interesting to write.  If you asked Vyv what they are all about, Vyv might reply without words.  But they might call you over to them, where they are writing a poem, or drawing a picture of a stone that has a vine growing out of it.

Vyv is hard to write because they are quieter, or perhaps just seems so in the context of the other, more verbose characters.  Vyv thinks about words a lot, and when they use them, which words they use are playful and chosen with deliberation.  Vyv is better educated, more interested in culture and art, than most anyone in the club.

But overall, Vyv takes in the world quite differently from others.  Their whole body is a sense organ for experience, and when you feel with exquisite sensitiveness, you can not only be an extraordinary artist, you can also feel pain more profoundly. 

You feel emotion palpably, and you take in and accommodate the feelings of those around you as part of your way of life.  You shift over to let the other person sit down more comfortably.  You notice who is wearing what shoes and think about it.  You see someone drinking a cold drink and you think about how the liquid feels going down their throat.

Vyv knows that when you see a beautiful seashell, you also touch it, feeling its texture; when you drink seltzer water, you listen to the hiss of carbonation.  When you hear a band playing, you feel the thrum in your body.  When you kiss someone, you inhale to take in the scent.  There aren’t five senses:  there’s just one big one.

And so Vyv is both difficult to write and incredibly satisfying when I hit the right note.  People use the term a “raw nerve” to talk about people who are prone to being hurt, but Vyv is more like a tuning fork:  able to be struck externally, and then vibrate sympathetically, producing something beautiful in the process.

When you talk to Vyv, the ground shifts a lot.  Vyv is in there with high comedy, because they love to laugh; Vyv has their own absurd takes on things; but also, the perceptive player and character will hear the undercurrent of tragedy in Vyv quite frequently. 

How loud and deep that undercurrent gets is one of the major choices and paths this whole Jolly Good story will decide.  This is a comedy at the end of the day, and all shall be well at the end of the day.  But without the trace of tragedy, I don’t think comedy works as well.  Vyv helps me sound that note.  I think the Vyv romance will be a popular one in Tea and Scones.

[wandasaura]

Please please please please go on for hours about Duckys relationships with the friends! Please, I'm begging you 🙏 😢

okay well literally to start, her and maria have the most hot and cold relationship ever. ducky was, and still is, terrified of maria. there's just this dominating aura to her and its nearly worse than wanda's, and god does maria play it up just to see how flustered she can make ducky before natasha comes to her rescue with a condescending 'are you making fun of my baby, hill?'. ducky knows both wanda and natasha are aware of their banter and ongoing teasing, and they have the time of their lives watching it unfold knowing maria won't cross any boundaries. but it does always leave ducky with a pouty face and a huffy mood, much to everyone else's amusement. maria is sweet in the same breathe though. she looks out for ducky in an almost older sister way. if she notices that ducks had too much to drink at a party and wanda and natasha are busy in another conversion or just misplaced from the crowd, she'll take her under her wing, getting her water and coaching her through small sips (which is no small feat because sober ducky is stubborn and drunk ducky is an entirely separate beast complete with incoherent babbling and huffing). she also gives some of the best hugs ducks ever received, so if she's feeling particularly cuddly when she's drunk and her girlfriends aren't around, she's leeching onto maria and the woman is loving it.

carol is one of the only people ducky would classify as a genuine friend, alongside yelena and kate. they'll text throughout the months, nothing frequent but always keeping in touch and updating on major life events or just small mindless things. carol always brings ducklings favorite hard seltzer to any parties they have, just generally being thoughtful which makes ducky want to sob because she's never been truly seen until now. carol is the best at advice, alongside maria although maria is typically harsher in her delivery so carols always confided in first. she takes no bullshit, she'll call ducky out when she's being utterly ridiculous but she's supportive and her delivery is always soft. carol also gives good hugs, but that might just be because her biceps are practically the size of ducklings head and it feels like hugging a giant buff teddy bear every time carol pulls her in.

kate and yelena are equally her older sisters and her little sisters, theirs truly no in between. she talks to them at least once a week, and whether thats just to send yelena a horrible picture of natasha asleep in random places, or to send kate iMessage games when she's bored and in class (she knows better than to send them to wanda) they're always in cahoots. at parties, kate is dragging her around by the hand convincing her to do the craziest shit, meanwhile yelena is 50/50. sometimes she's right on board with the chaos, and other times she's threatening to sick wanda on ducky if she so much as thinks about doing anything crazy.

everyone else just kind of blends into the background. they're the family friends that you only really talk to at parties but you still get excited to see them when the inevitable greeting rolls around.

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 5: I've Never Been a Bad Influence a Day in My Life

You and Joel get closer as you put together your lists. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 4, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Masturbation, fantasy about P in V sex. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

October, 2022

“Why can’t I add to your list?” You pouted a little, can of hard seltzer in your hand as your float drifted to the middle of Joel’s pool. 

“Because you’re gonna just use that power for evil, not good,” Joel replied. 

“Would not!” You shoved off the side of the pool with your foot, floating back toward the middle of the water. 

“Am I allowed to put shit on your list?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the pool, his feet in the water and a beer in his hand. 

You scoffed. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Well, there you go,” he shrugged. “Goes both ways.” 

“You’d be a dick about it!” You kicked the water in his direction but the spray of it fell short and you watched him try to not laugh. “You’d put things on there like ‘buy Joel beer for the rest of his life’ or ‘speak in a bad British accent for a week…’”

“Can you do a good British accent?” He asked, brows raised. 

“That is beside the point.” 

“What are you gonna add to my list, hm?” There was a teasing edge in his voice as he took a sip of beer. “Get a new wardrobe? Get Sarah a dog?” 

“OK, both of those are good additions,” you said, defensive. “But no, not what I was thinking.” 

“Then what, Goldie?” 

“Put in a hot tub,” you said, chin raised. 

He barked a laugh. 

“A hot tub?” 

“A hot tub,” you nodded. “How can I come over to your house and float in the water if it’s too cold to go in the pool? Which it will be in like… a few weeks. You need a hot tub.” 

“It’s already too cold,” he said. “That water’s below 70 degrees, couldn’t pay me to get in there now. Lucky I’m in this far as it is.” 

“See?” You said. “Hot tub.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” he shook his head. 

“If your list is shitty can I add to it?” 

“If you actually think my list is shitty we can discuss it,” he said. Your float drifted close to him and you were afraid, for a moment, that he was going to splash you. Instead, he just pushed the edge of it with his foot, sending you drifting back toward the middle of the water. “Still down to compare tomorrow night?” 

“Think so,” you said, taking a sip of your seltzer. “As long as you don’t mock me relentlessly for it.” 

“When do I not mock you relentlessly?” 

“Excellent point,” you said. “I should get better friends.” 

“Probably so.” 

“At least now you come with Sarah,” you sighed dramatically. “So I guess I’ll keep bugging you…” 

“God, you two are gonna kill me,” he said, trying to look serious but a hint of a smile on his lips. “Worst idea I ever had, lettin’ you two get to know each other…” 

You giggled a little at that. You and Sarah had become thick as thieves since you and Joel had reconnected now two weeks ago.

It was hard to believe that he’d only been back in your life less than a month. But then, it was hard to believe he’d ever been out of your life at all. You’d only gone a few days without seeing him since that night at the bar and, on those days, the two of you were almost constantly texting. It was the most natural thing in the world, having your life fall into step alongside Joel’s. It reminded you so much of high school even though you were in your 30s now, your lives moving in parallel until they collided at the end of the day and you came over for dinner or went and cheered on Sarah at her soccer game or Joel showed up at your door with beer. Even after all this time, he just knew you and you just knew him. You could read his posture as easily as a book, instantly knowing the kind of day he had by the way he opened the door or flopped on your couch. He seemed to be able to peer inside your mind on command, just a raised eyebrow or a sigh telling him everything he needed to know about how you were feeling and how to make it better. 

There was one day where you hadn’t intended to see him at all but it’d turned shitty and he just somehow picked up on it from the tone of your texts. New paperwork had come over from Gale’s attorney and you resigned yourself to spending the evening picking over the bones of your marriage with a bottle of wine and a wilted salad - because you definitely didn’t have the emotional energy to go by the grocery store - when Joel texted. It was a meme that you responded to with just an lol before going back to the paperwork. He FaceTimed just 30 seconds later and you frowned, answering it. 

“Hi?” You said brows raised. 

He nodded sagely. 

“What I thought,” he said. “You look like shit.” 

“Gee thanks.” 

He rolled his eyes. 

“For you you look like shit. What’s wrong.” 

You narrowed your eyes and he laughed. 

“What?” He asked

“How can you just tell?” You replied. “It’s weird.” 

“Come over,” he said instead of answering. He flipped his camera around and Sarah made a face, sticking her tongue out, her hair in two springy buns on the top of her head. 

You frowned. 

“Where are you?”

He turned the camera back around.

“Picking up pizza,” he said. “I’ll grab an extra cheese bread, come over.” 

“I’ve been drinking…” 

“We’ll pick you up,” he said. “Come over.” 

“Please?” Sarah jumped to try to get in the frame and Joel laughed, tilting the camera so she was visible. “It’ll be fun! OH! Spend the night! Come sleep over again, please?” 

Joel tilted the camera so he was back in the frame. 

“You really wanna disappoint my kid?” He asked. “C’mon.” 

“Yeah!” Sarah said, bouncing just out of frame again, just a bit of her bun appearing in the bottom corner as she jumped. “Don’t let down the kid, that’s just shitty.” 

“Hey,” Joel said but you could tell he was trying not to smile. She stopped bouncing. “Language.” 

“Sorry.” 

He turned his attention back to you. 

“Be there in 10,” he said. “Can’t let you just sit and wallow. Need pizza for that.” 

He and Sarah picked you up and Sarah insisted on cranking Taylor Swift in the car, signing Look What You Made Me Do into her water bottle in the back seat while you balanced warm pizza boxes on your lap, trying not to laugh when you and Joel exchanged glances at red lights. 

At dinner, you pulled a pepperoni off your slice of pizza and stuck it on the end of your nose and held very serious eye contact with Joel and Sarah as they spoke, nodding along carefully so as to not disturb the topping dangling from your face. Sarah tried very hard not to laugh and did a pretty good job of it until you made a face at her from across the table when Joel’s back was turned and she cackled, laughing so hard she almost knocked over her soda can.

“You bein’ a bad influence on my kid?” He asked when he handed you the paper towel you’d requested.

“Joel,” you said, deathly serious, pepperoni slice still on the tip of your nose. “I’ve never been a bad influence a day in my life.” 

 After dinner, as Joel did the dishes, you sat on the couch with Sarah and listened as she told you about one of her friends at school who hadn’t been as kind lately. You nodded along until Sarah seemed to run out of steam, slumping down against the cushion with a slightly tired look on her face. 

“Well,” you said. “Have you told her that you’ve been feeling hurt by how she’s been treating you lately?” 

She scrunched her face a little. 

“No,” she said. “But I thought that’d be pretty obvious…” 

You shrugged. 

“Sometimes it’s not. She may not even know she’s doing it. If I were you, I’d tell her that you’ve been feeling hurt and ask if she’s doing OK because it sounds like this is a change for her. If she’s hurting you that might be because her feelings are getting hurt somewhere else.” 

“I hadn’t thought of that,” she nodded a little. “That’s a good idea.”

“I do have those occasionally,” you said and she smiled a little at you. 

The three of you watched part of a movie before Sarah went to get ready for bed and you eavesdropped from the living room as Joel read to her in her room, the door opened just enough to hear when his voice changed with the characters. 

“Peeta sighs,” Joel said like Joel before his voice shifted to something that sounded more boyish but still strong and deep, almost what you remembered from when you first met him. You smiled. “'Well, there is this one girl. I’ve had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I’m pretty sure she didn’t know I was alive until the reaping…’”

Joel flopped next to you on the couch when he was done and you held out your glass of wine. He took it, taking a big sip before handing it back. 

“You look tired,” you said, holding the glass. 

He shrugged. 

“No days off from this whole dad thing. Don’t really want a day off but still… get tired after a bit.” He looked over at you and smiled a little. “Thanks for talking with her. Think she needs someone like you around.” 

“Oh, someone who managed to tank her relationship and got stuck starting over in her 30s?” You asked. “That kind of someone?” 

He rolled his eyes. 

“A woman…” 

“Oh, is that all?”

He glared at you. 

“A woman,” he said again. “But one who’s lived some life, knows how to navigate the hard shit. One who’s willing to listen to her problems. She’s got me and Tommy for that but can’t help but feel like I’ve let her down by not giving her some kind of… I don’t fuckin’ know, feminine influence.” 

“Ahh yes, the mysterious feminine,” you nodded sagely. Joel picked up a pillow and smacked you in the stomach with it, making you laugh as you caught it and held it to yourself. “Joel, you’re doing great with her.” 

“Yeah?” He asked, serious now. 

“Yeah,” you said, serious, too. “You really are. She’s so lucky to have you, Joel. You have no idea.” 

“I’m lucky to have her,” he said, looking toward Sarah’s room for a moment before turning back to you. “So, you have the kind of bad day that you want to talk about it or the kind of bad day that you want to get fucked up about it?” 

“The latter.” 

“Then chug that wine,” he said, shoving himself off the couch. “And maybe change into your pajamas, I’m getting the tequila.” 

You swapped numbers with Sarah at breakfast the next day. You and Joel were both hung over and trying to pretend like you hadn’t been up until 2:30 on a work night getting hammered until you passed out in a heap on his couch only to be roused by a groggy Sarah at 7 in the morning. 

She’d taken to texting you then, sometimes just silly selfies, sometimes memes you didn’t really get, sometimes with questions about friends at school. You were pretty sure your heart melted the first time she called you Aunt Goldie, a sense of belonging wrapping around you that you’d never really known before. 

“We still on for tomorrow?” Joel asked, eyes following the slow, lazy path your float was making across his pool. “Make a night out of this whole project, kick things off right.” 

“Hell yeah,” you said, drifting back to Joel. He didn’t shove you back out to the water this time. “Did I tell you I’m seeing Anna for lunch? I cannot just go into that blind, I’ll need an out…” 

“She’s doin’ that well, huh?” Joel asked. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “She’s supposedly sticking with her program but… I feel like I should be a better sister and try to check in more but then it just feels like babysitting and that doesn’t seem right, either.” 

“At a certain point, she’s gotta do it on her own,” Joel said. “You’re her sister, not her mom.” 

“I know,” you nodded. “But I feel like I should have checked in on her more after our mom died. She was a teenager and I just left her alone…” 

“You were 20 years old,” Joel said gently. “Not like you were equipped for that shit.” 

You shrugged and took another drink. 

“Hey,” he said, nudging your float gently, just enough to make you look up at him. “Don’t be hard on yourself for that. You were handed a shit situation and you did what you could with it. Trust me, I know.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Ended up in a similar boat with Tommy. Spent years - literal years - bailing his ass out of jail and begging him to get his shit together. Eventually he did a stint in the army and got it figured out. At least a bit. She’ll get there. But it’s not your job to get her there.” 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “You’re probably right.” 

“Who, me?” He asked, mocking. “Right? Never thought I’d see the day…” 

“Shove it,” you splashed at him, the water dripping down his face and soaking his t-shirt. You snorted as you watched him fight the urge to laugh. 

“Gonna pay for that,” he said, setting his beer down on the side of the pool and grabbing your float as you tried to paddle away. 

“No!” You shrieked and laughed, shoving your seltzer into the cupholder as more of you ended up in the cold pool water than you really wanted in your rush to escape. 

“You started it!” Joel was leaning precariously over the water now, trying to splash you again while keeping you from retreating. “Shoulda just kept those little hands to yourself…” 

“They’re not little!” 

He yanked your float back toward the side of the pool and nodded down at one of your hands.

“Freakishly small…” 

“Yours are just freakishly big you mutant!” You grabbed a fistful of his shirt and watched as he realized a second too late what was about to happen. 

“Oh shit,” his eyes went wide and you laughed in victory before you pulled him all the way into the pool, jeans and all. He brought you down as he went, the float capsizing and sending you and your mostly empty drink can into the cold water with a sharp yelp. 

You went under, the chlorine stinging your eyes as you twisted and tried to right yourself below the water. You and Joel surfaced at the same time, not even a foot apart and gasping for breath, laughing as you tried to brush your soaked hair back from your face. 

“It’s so cold!” You shivered and splashed at him before crossing your arms tightly over yourself. 

“Why are you complainin’ to me?” He shivered back. “You’re the one who wanted to be in the damn pool…” 

“In the floatie!” You said. “I was mostly dry until you got involved!” 

“Got justice you mean,” he said, reaching for your can and pulling it out of the water, dumping it out before setting it on the side of the pool. “You’re the one who put us in here…” 

“You’re the one who was being mean,” you said, reaching out for him and pressing your cold fingers to his chest, the heat of him still apparent even in the water. You sighed contentedly. “That’s better…” 

“Jesus, what are you, ice?” He griped, tugging you against him with a little yelp. “Gonna fuckin’ freeze to death if you’re not careful… ridiculous…” 

You giggled once but pressed yourself closer to him, soaking up his heat and pressing your cold fingers to his exposed skin. 

“OK, you could be less mean about it,” he said, pulling back from you just enough to scowl down at you. “Frozen fuckin’ hands…” 

You laughed and realized, very suddenly, how close you were to him. You weren’t sure the last time you’d been quite this close to him, the last time you could feel every line of him through his clothes, the last time his mouth had been that close to your own. Your heart sped up. His eyes searched yours and you could feel his breath on your skin and suddenly, you weren’t close enough to him. Not close enough at all. 

“Dad?” Sarah’s groggy voice called from the sliding glass door, making you jump, both of your heads turning toward her. Her face was scrunched and a curl had broken free of its braid, sticking straight out from the side of her head. “Is everything OK?” 

“Course it is, baby girl,” Joel frowned. “Why wouldn’t it be? What are you doin’ out of bed?”  

“You’re being loud,” she groaned. “You’re never loud.”  

“M’sorry kiddo,” Joel said, separating from you and working his way to the edge of the pool, pulling himself out of the water and dripping on the stone edge. “Gimme just a second to get Goldie out of the water before she freezes to death and dry her off, I’ll come tuck you in again in just a minute…” 

“Can I get another chapter?” She said it fast, the words all strung together, her eyes big. “Please? They just got into the arena and…” 

“We’ll see,” he said. “But only because it’s Friday and you’re sleeping over at Emma’s tomorrow so you won’t get one then. Inside, go on.” 

He watched her go and then went to the lounge chair at the side of the pool, getting the only towel he’d brought outside and holding it away from his body, spread open wide. 

“Hurry up, before I change my mind,” he said. 

“Such a gentleman,” you said, trying not to let your teeth chatter and trying to shove the ache that was still growing all hollow and wanting inside you down deep. You got out of the water and he wrapped you tightly in the towel, his arms going tightly around you. 

“Not really,” he said, pulling you back against his broad chest and squeezing you so the water from him soaked into the towel before he shook his shaggy curls over you so drops of water got all over your face as you laughed. “There, cured you of THAT notion…” 

“Thanks so much,” you said wryly as he released you. You turned to face him as he ran his fingers through his soaked hair and his shirt pulled up just enough that you caught a glimpse of the smooth flesh around his hips and you found yourself drifting closer to him again before you stopped yourself. Joel put his arms down and seemed to notice exactly where you were, just looking at you for a moment before he cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“I should go tuck Sarah back in,” he said. “Get into something dry so I don’t get her all soaked…” 

“Right,” you said, stepping back from him. “Sorry we woke your kid up because you just couldn’t leave well enough alone…” 

“I will throw your ass back in that pool,” he said, going to open the door for you. “Don’t try me.” 

“Oh don’t worry Miller,” you teased. “I know just what you’re capable of.” 

He started toward the stairs, a little trail of water in his wake as he went, and you watched the pull of the wet fabric of his shirt over his shoulders. You swallowed, hard.

“I’m just going to head out,” you said and he stopped, turning to frown at you. 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah,” you said. “Really should go wash this chlorine out of my hair. But see you tomorrow?” 

“With the list?” Joel asked. 

“With the list,” you answered. 

“Lookin’ forward to it,” he said, turning to go up the stairs again before looking back over his shoulder. “Drive safe, Goldie.” 

He didn’t wait for a response, just heading for his room. 

Your heart was still racing. 

You left the towel draped over the banister and just pulled on the oversized t-shirt you’d put in your bag before going to your car. 

You tried not to think about Joel as you drove home. 

It didn’t do you any good to think about him that way. It was Joel. He didn’t see you that way, drifting in that direction was what had ruined things so many years before. You’d just gotten him back, things were so good again, you felt like you belonged again, you couldn’t fuck that up, not because you’d never been able to move past a school girl crush. 

But you wanted to kiss him. Fuck, you wanted to kiss him. 

You tried not to think about kissing him. You tried not to think about what happened after the last time you’d kissed him. How quickly everything had dissolved, how you’d gone from picturing a future with Joel - a different one than you’d held in your mind outside of fantasy before - to running as far and as fast as you could in a matter of hours. 

It’s Goldie, he’d said then. It’s the worst thing that could happen, I wish it was anybody else…

You flinched at the memory, shoving it away. No, you didn’t think about that, not when you could help it. Just like you didn’t think about the way Joel’s lips felt against your skin, how his fingers - warm and think - had traced over you, how he made you feel so clearly seen and adored in a way that no one else had before, in a way your husband had never really seemed to. How he still made you feel that way. 

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself as you parked, dropping your head to your steering wheel with a groan before you went in your house, closing your car door with a little too much force. 

You showered and forced yourself to keep your hands away from your aching slit. You were not going to fuck yourself in your bathroom to the idea of sleeping with your best friend. You weren’t. You weren’t a teenager anymore and you weren’t going to act like one. You were better than this.

Your hair was still damp when you gave up on getting any writing or grading done and went to bed, an almost frustrating, throbbing ache between your thighs. You stared at the ceiling in the dark for a while before you all but threw the covers off and rifled through your nightstand for the discreet little pink vibrator you’d bought years ago when you’d first figured out that, while your husband had many talents, making you come wasn’t one of them. 

You went to your usual fallback for porn but didn’t find anything that was really working for you, the ache of longing just getting worse as you gently toyed with your clit under the covers in the dark. Your cunt was slick, your wetness seeping down to your nightie and coating your fingers. It felt like forever that you’d been touching yourself and getting nowhere when the batteries on your vibrator died and you whimpered, kicking your legs down into your mattress in frustration. 

“Goddammit,” you moaned into your pillow, tossing your phone and vibrator aside, the ache in you worse than you’d ever really remembered it being before. There was no way you were going to be able to sleep like this, your whole body drawn tight and needy. You fumbled in your drawer for the charging cable and plugged the vibrator in before sighing and staring up at the ceiling again. 

Your thoughts drifted to Joel again. You couldn’t help it, he’d felt so good against you in the pool. He knew you so well, even after all this time. He kept your favorite snacks at his house and draped a blanket over you when you started getting cold when watching a movie. He was so funny and so handsome it hurt to look at him and he’d felt so fucking good.

Your fingers slipped between your legs again without really thinking about it, brushing against your swollen, sensitive clit. You resisted it for a moment, the idea of falling into the fantasy of you with Joel, but the need drawing everything inside you all tight and molten won. 

It swallowed you quickly once you gave in. 

The memory of him was there at the fore so fast, the way his lips had felt on you so many years ago. How you thought they’d feel against you now. His hands ranged over you, around your waist, down to your hips, his fingers twisting and knotting in the fabric there as he bunched it up to hold you firmer, reach you better. You moaned and rocked into your hand, sliding lower, your palm pressed against your sensitive nub as you slipped a finger inside yourself with a moan. You worked yourself open slowly, your slick making easy work of it, as you imagined it was his hand between your legs, his fingers sinking into you. How he’d take your swimsuit off and line his cock up with your entrance and push inside of you as he moaned your name. How his fingers would grip your flesh, prying at you as though he was trying to take you apart to keep pieces of you for himself. How he’d work himself so deep into you that you were certain no one else had ever come quite so close to climbing into another person’s skin before.  

You rocked your hips against your hand to the thought of him, not sure where memory ended and fantasy began, the fingers not plunging needily into your hole finding their way to your breast, grasping at the soft swell there, your own hand so unsatisfyingly small compared to his. You remembered the way his voice trembled as he breathed your name - his mouth against the tender skin at the base of your ear - as his cock filled you, the whole of him buried inside like he belonged there as he came. 

“Joel!” You gasped as your own orgasm hit, tight channel throbbing around the three fingers you’d managed to fit inside yourself, slick pooling in your palm and your tit filling your other hand. 

You came harder than you had in years, let alone from only using your hand and not your toy. It took you a few minutes to come down from the high of it, indulging in the fantasy of him in a way you hadn’t done since your freshman year of college. He last time you gave into it was back when you’d first started dating Gale but you’d felt so desperately alone, like no one had ever bothered to learn you at all. So you’d let yourself pretend that your best friend was still your best friend, that he loved you the way you loved him and that fucking you hadn’t been some mistake he’d made on prom night. It had seemed the most supreme extravagance, pretending that Joel would have wanted you to come like that with him. It still did. 

You put a stop to all that when Gale proposed, solidifying your relationship in an entirely new way. You tucked the memory of Joel and his body on and within yours away then. You’d never intended to think about him that way again. But then, you’d never intended to get divorced, either. 

“Fuck,” you sighed, shoving yourself out of bed to pee and clean up the mess you’d made of yourself. Before you lay back down, you opened the golden notebook on your bedside table and found the page with the list. You went to the bottom and tried to add another line but the pen in the elastic loop wouldn’t write. You groaned before fishing out the red pen you’d left in your nightstand from a night you were editing in bed from the top drawer. You added two words to the bottom of your list - trying to ignore the way the diamond of your engagement ring caught the light from your lamp, casting little rainbows on the paper - and circled them, pressing the pen into the paper harder than you really needed to. 

“There,” you said, capping the pen and dropping it on the notebook you hadn’t bothered to close. The pen rolled until it came to a stop, the red cap almost pointing to the newly added words as though they needed any more attention. 

That, you thought, was the solution. If you could just figure out how to accomplish that, you could put Joel back in that little box and keep this stupid crush from blowing up your whole life a second time, as long as you weren’t an idiot about it. 

You switched off the lamp and pulled your blankets tightly around yourself, trying to ignore the feeling that the words were glaring at you from their perch on your night stand. They blinked at you like neon behind your eyelids and you tried not to see them in the same way you tried not to think about Joel’s body on yours in the pool as you drifted off to sleep.

Get laid.

Next Chapter

A/N: I just adore these two. Honestly, they keep getting away from me, their conversations are so fun to write and explore that I get lost in what I'm trying to accomplish with a chapter. But that's OK! The ride is the point of this whole fic thing, right?

Thank you for being patient with this chapter! I got a bit sidetracked with another project but I think I'm in a good place to get back to my once a week updates here for a while. I hope it was at least somewhat worth the wait!

Thank you for being here! Love you!!

[alliskit]

BG3 Headcanons Nobody Asked For.

Part 2: “Cheap” Alcohol.

As Astarion once asked, “But what would they taste like?”

Well, I don’t have the money to spend drinking brandy (sorry Gale), but there’s enough on the shelves I can buy that would describe them quite nicely.

A heads up that these are U.S. based, but I’ll make sure to describe them so you get the picture.

Gale:

He wants to be brandy, scotch, or a flavored liquor, but he’s not.

He’s a mid tier red wine — still a cab sav, but mid tier.

This is NOT a bad thing. This wine is your personal go-to especially if you’ve got no one coming over.

It’s flavorful enough on the palate but not too risky. It’s likely from a good brand that has more expensive options but this is good enough to buy repeatedly.

This is your wine you pair with your favorite dinner, a good book, watching tv, and after a stressful day. Your ride or die wine.

This wine is the kind of wine you can finish in one night and not feel guilty even when drunk. You can buy more later.

It’s dependable and delicious, makes you want to tell everyone about it.

It’s a favorite among many different kinds of palates.

Gale is always either the husband or male wife because he’s the easiest to commit to wholeheartedly, just like this wine.

Lae’zel:

She is Silver Patron Tequila. You will pay extra for this but the pain is worth it.

Githyanki are the definition of work hard play hard.

Once all the nonsense with the Elder brain and Orpheus is done, you will find her beachside on the Astral Sea, tatas out, a fresh squeezed lime house margarita in hand. Some Gith bard singing a rendition of Margaritaville they picked up passing through earths realm.

It’s the drink you deserve for all your hard work now that you’re in vacation mode.

It’s “exotic” but in safe way. Lae’zel may be from an asteroid but she’s your typical Gith fighter.

You don't put patron in every marg, but just the ones you want to hit fast and last.

Karlach:

Fireball Whiskey. The name itself just says it all.

You can get so many bottles of this for cheap in so many flavors.

It hits hard and fast and will make you ache by morning.

It’s not a party until someone pulls this out. Expect to get trashed.

It will coerce you into losing all filters and masks, learning to express who you really are.

It will burn going down and possibly coming back up, yet you will continue to wonder why you’re so willing to get burnt again.

She runs hot and so will you.

Wyll:

Craft beer. All craft beer.

He is ALL craft beer because he is the living embodiment of the dichotomy of an IPA made in someone’s garage that costs $14 a pint.

He is a man of his own making, gritty and self made, who can’t quite escape his silver spoon.

He has variety and many sides. Is he just your average guy or a sly devil? A little bit of both? A little sweet? A little sour?

Also he pairs well with all your favorite comfort foods.

He makes you want to dance a jig or sing a ballad at your local bar. He will lead it.

He’s of great taste, yet something in him longs to fit in. And with him, you can’t go wrong, even if it takes a minute to get past the initial bitterness.

Shadowheart:

Wine seltzer/vodka seltzer. Something really sweet and feels like a soda.

She’s the easiest crowd pleaser, even if it’s really watered down.

She not only tastes like this, this would be her drink of choice. Girl is tired and just wants a buzz while drinking something she can pound after a long day of saving lives.

You can enjoy this for near any occasion. Bring it to any event. (Someone at a funeral is craving a comfort drink and this will slap)

She, like Gale the red, is a comfort drink, but for a pick me up instead of a lay me down.

Astarion:

Prosecco and/or brut (poor man’s champagne because he’s not living the high noble life anymore)

He’s worthy of being celebrated, kicking your shackles off and stabbing your abuser warrants a celebratory kind of drink.

He’s not to everyone’s taste, but you’ll bear him for a good time.

If you get drunk on brut, you are a special kind of drinker. (Just like your fascination with vampires, some of us truly fear the feeling of death in the morning. If you’ve never had a Prosecco hangover, you’re better for it) I can hear him as he asks, “How are you feeling?” The morning after. LOL

He said he likes spicy food and spicy bubbles seem right up his palate. Also brut is great to pair with spicy!

Also drinking from a wine flute just makes you wanna say: “I’m fuckin posh” even if it’s plastic.

Minthara:

Our Spiced Rum mama. I’m talking Kraken spiced. The smooth rum followed by a heat like whiskey that makes you instinctively want to cough as it burns down your esophagus.

But oh how we love how it burns. Similar to Karlach but not nearly as in your face.

You will have a drunk existential crisis while dancing naked to Fleetwood Mac that will change how you see the world as you feel it burn deep in your soul.

You can drink this straight or in a cocktail and you will NEVER forget the experience. You will crave it.

It’s a smooth talker as it insults your inability to hold your alcohol. It will challenge your tolerance, making you think you really are a big baby. And I can hear her saying it. I’ll let her call me a cry baby whenever she wants.

Halsin:

Mead. I could just finish with just that, but I won’t.

Mead is honey wine if you didn’t know. Once again, it speaks for itself.

It’s comforting, it’s hearty, it’s sweet, it’s tasty, it warms the heart. Makes you want to lay back in the sun or sit warm by a fire.

Getting drunk on this is like getting drunk on sunshine and you will end up with the wine version of a sunburn but you’ll keep drinking.

Just like Halsin getting drunk and singing, dancing, and professing his love to strangers, you will too.

Honey wine will always treat you well and will make sweet love you “as nature intended”.

If you have more options you feel each of these guys embody, let me know! 👇🏻