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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

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As the World Turns 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, imbalanced power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your new job takes you to new places with lots of new people.

Characters: Nick Fowler, Jonathan Pine, Lloyd Hansen

Note: I know I shouldn't have done this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

When you accepted your new position, you didn’t expect that two days later you would be on your very first business trip. Ever. Like at all!

It’s exciting. It’s not only your first trip overseas for work but your first trip across any border. You’re as happy to get use out of your passport as you are to have the new experiences. You don’t know, however, how much you’ll be able to enjoy any of it. It’s still work after all.

You stand at the luggage belt as your phone vibrates. It’s your boss, Mr. Fowler, once more asking you where you are. The car’s already there. It’s not your fault the elite class flyers got off first and you’re stuck searching for your bags among the sea of coach passengers.

‘Will be there shortly, sir. Just coming through customs.’

It’s a small lie but you don’t think he’ll be impressed to hear you’re struggling to find your bag. It’s not very big but it should be easy to find. A round plastic suitcase in a shade of sunflower you can’t miss. You think it’d be obvious amid the black and black suitcases milling along on the conveyor belt.

You see the plastic slats part and your bag shines bright, like a beacon calling to you. You race forward and grab onto the handle. You accidentally press the button with your thumb so the handle extends and you’re dragged along awkwardly as you struggle to lift it.

Another passenger approaches to remove his heavy black bag but doesn’t walk away before helping you. You thank him with a smile. He’s older, maybe your grandpa’s age, and he assures you it’s no problem. He walks off and you plant the wheels of your bag straight, swerving around as you follow the signs.

You bring your phone up again and read Mr. Fowler’s next impatient text.

‘Take the cab fare off your per diem.’

Right. You’re not surprised. From what you know of your boss so far, he’s a stickler. He knows what he wants and he doesn’t settle for less. While he can be charming, even accommodating, he can also be terrifyingly stern. One moment he has that smile that makes his eyes twinkle and the next, his jaw is set and danger darkens his features. The very memory of that expression makes you shiver.

You suppose it’s your own fault. You should’ve considered the job description a bit closer. An executive assistant does a lot more than just the typical secretary. The pay itself was proof enough. Can you really complain? The perks include free trips!

You try to stay as positive as you can, ignoring your mother’s voice as it sneaks into the back of your head. She always has something negative to say. She could win the lottery and complain about the trouble of claiming her winnings.

You make your way through the terminal and into the atrium, passing by new arrivals and waiting departures. You check your smart watch, you’ll get in your steps for sure, and hurry as the minutes tick by. You follow the flow outside and find a spot along the pick up area, waving down a taxi as your phone buzzes again.

‘Don’t show up without scotch’.

The message is terse. You can only assume the flight was less than accommodating. You spent your time in coach looking out at the clouds or catching up on the adventures in Westeros. Terribly depressing books but it only makes reality a little less so.

You get into a taxi and ask the driver to take you to a liquor store. He doesn’t seem to understand you. Oh, boy. You pull up Google translate on your phone and speak into it, setting it to translate into the native language. You let the speaker play the text to voice. The driver nods and starts the meter.

Okay, not bad. You’re figuring this out. If anything, Mr. Fowler has to give you points for effort, right?

You ask the taxi to wait as you run in and find yourself faced with shelves of bottles and cans. This is the hard part, you’re not much of a drinker. With the help of Google, you ask the clerk for a bottle of scotch and pay with the company card. You’re right back out to the taxi.

Everything is so fast, you feel like you’re still catching up. You’re doing things. Every minute matters. You feel important, probably for the first time in your life. No more sitting behind a desk yawning, you’re tired for good reason.

You give the hotel name next and let yourself relax. Just for a little. Your eyes drift to the traffic outside the taxi, the voices all around, the dimming of the sky as the city sets to evening. It’s beautiful and new and wonderful.

The driver lets you off in front of the hotel. You’re greeted by a valet who offers to take your bag. You try to refuse but he insists, so you let him and follow him inside. As you enter, another man approaches.

You’re confused at first. He’s tall, blonde, and dressed as if he’s a businessman visiting on his own sojourn. You look around, thinking he might be headed for someone behind you. No, it’s only you. You turn back and find his blue eyes centered on you as he stops before you.

“Miss, welcome,” he lilts in his refined accent, “may I have your name so we may get you checked in?”

“Oh, yes, thanks, uh, sir. Actually, first, my, er… my boss is here. I think. He must’ve shown up twenty minutes ago. Erm, Mr. Fowler. I have, a oh,” you look down at the bottle in your hands, “I have this for him.”

“Wonderful,” he eyes the bottle, “Izak,” he addresses the valet, “Fowler.”

He takes the bottle from you without resistance. There’s something about his confidence that has you frozen. He hands it to the valet, Izak, and sends him off. You smile and give a nervous chuckle.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you rub the back of your neck.

“That is my job. I’m at your service, miss. Jonathan Pine, manager,” he offers his hand.

You shake it, doing your best to keep a firm grip. His fingers are so long that your hand feels tiny in his. He lets you go as you rescind your hand, crossing one arm over your stomach as you cup your other elbow, playing with the button of your blouse.

“Your name, miss?”

“Oh, duh,” you clutch the front of your blouse and eke out your name.

“Great, this way,” he beckons you with him and leads you to a round desk. He steps behind and types as his blue eyes reflect the screen. “I assume you’re here on business. You mentioned your boss is in another accommodation.”

“Yes, uh, my first business trip,” you almost wiggle with delight, “I’ve never even stayed in a hotel, you know?”

“Well, then I hope your stay is exceptional,” he smiles as he clicks around, giving a thoughtful hum, “allow me to make your first a special one,” he intones, “I’ve upgraded you to a suite.”

“A suite? Oh, but–”

“No additional fee. It will remain at the rate of your previous room,” his eyes flick to you.

“Wow, that’s… do I sound that pathetic?”

“Pathetic? Not at all, miss.”

You chew your lip and sway back and forth, crossing both arms across your chest. You don’t know what to say. He’s so nice that it almost feels patronizing. Or you’re just insecure.

“Allow me to show you your suite,” he comes out from behind the desk, holding out a small black folio.

You take it and look inside, two cards and a little insert with tiny text on it. You bring your hands down to fold over your stomach and back up to let him lead you. He struts along with you to the elevator and hits the button. He gestures you in first and follows.

“You haven’t traveled before?” He asks.

“Not really. We used to go camping but not far from home. Then we didn’t go anywhere. I’ve been working since, er, college, so… this is my first chance.”

“Well, the world is vast and not all are so lucky as to venture beyond their front door. It’s truly a privilege,” he says. The doors ding and parts, again, he waits for you to go ahead of him.

You step out and check the folio. You read the number and match it to a door at the far end of the hall. He’s right behind you as you get to the suite.

“Shall I show you around?” He asks as you stop on either side of the doorframe.

“Erm, sure, why not?” You shrug.

“Might I?” He points to your hands and you give him the folio.

He takes out a card and holds it up, “these can be unfortunately finicky. You must make sure you hold it so,” he shows you how to position it and slides it through the slot beside the handle. The red light turns green and the door unlocks. “Please,” he opens the door and nods you inside.

You enter as he follows. The door slowly closes as he lets it go and he slips the card back into the folio. He puts it on the corner table beside the door and taps it with his fingertips.

“You’ll find the wireless information in there along with the room service details and our continental breakfast times,” he explains, “if you’ve any questions, you may call the front desk.”

“Thank you,” you smile.

“Let me briefly go over the rest of your amenities and I’ll leave you in peace,” he avows as he waves you further inside, “a full bath,” he stops at the doorway to his left, “there are jets built in, rather useful after a long flight.”

You give a polite laugh and he presses on. He guides you through the suite; a kitchenette, a mini bar, a sitting space, a bedroom, a balcony, and a key to the private pool. You thank him again.

He goes back to the door, about to leave but pausing at the door, “if you require anything, you may ask for me. Jonathan, remember.”

“Jonathan,” you repeat.

He nods and steps out into the hall, gently closing the door behind him. You feel another buzz in your pocket. Shoot! Mr. Fowler.

‘Scotch is here. Where are you?’

You cringe and hurry out of the room. You should’ve known better. There was just a lot happening at once. You hurry down the hall and stop short of the elevator. You don’t know where his room is.

‘On my way, sir. Where is your room?’

You key in the message, awkwardly lingering as you wait for his response.

‘Not there. In restaurant. Two minutes.’

You push your head back. You really just want to go back to the room and jump into that giant bed. A full queen to yourself. That’s actual heaven. You answer, affirming your obedience and head for the elevator.

You get down to the lobby and once more find yourself lost. You have that problem, not thinking two steps ahead. As you look around, you see the valet, Izak.

“Hi, uh, is there a restaurant around here?” You ask sheepishly.

“Yes, miss, right through there,” he points towards the rear of the lobby to a wide archway crested with a point.

You thank Izak and scurry across the lobby. You put your phone away as you enter the restaurant and a server approaches you. They ask if you want a table for one and you explain that you’re meeting your boss. She points him out and asks you if you’d like a drink. You assume you won’t be staying for dinner so you pass.

As you near his table, Mr. Fowler doesn’t look up. You stop just across from him and wring your hands. You wait for him to say something but he’s focused on the menu.

“Sorry, sir, I was just checking in–”

“Sit,” he demands.

“Right, thanks,” you sit and grip the edge of the table, “it was very busy at the airport and I had to stop on the way for your scotch–”

“But no time to bring it yourself?” He challenges as he sets the menu down, finally looking at you, “I have a colleague meeting me here shortly.” His eyes dip briefly as he eyes your blouse, “hm, you didn’t change?”

“Like I was saying, sir, I didn’t have a chance yet–”

“Undo your top button,” he waves off your excuses as he sits back and grabs the short glass of scotch in front of him.

“Sir?”

“You look like a nun,” he retorts, “just one button, sweetheart.”

You furrow your brow but pop your top button open. It doesn’t show very much but it still feels wrong. You sit back and peer around the restaurant. The din is quiet and the lightning soft and warm.

“Um, so, you want me to stay for dinner?”

“You leave when I dismiss you,” he says curtly.

“Yes, sir, I understand,” you reply.

“Stop fidgeting,” he clucks, “try to sit still.”

“Yes, sir,” your voice shrinks.

He sighs and stares at you, “smile, okay? This is an important dinner.”

“Right,” you force a smile, cheeks trembling.

All the excitement, all your former optimism, slowly slakes away. You get the churning anxiety in your stomach. The same sensation that kept you in bed a few minutes past your alarm. You’re only a few days in, you can do this.

“Fowler,” a voice booms across the restaurant as footfalls approach.

Your boss stands and you scramble to do the same. He shakes the hand of another man as you turn to face his acquaintance. It must be his aforementioned colleague.

“Hansen,” Fowler counters as their handshake becomes a battle, “about time.”

“Pfft, you were always boring. You gotta get out, buddy. Especially around here. I’ll give you a few names. There’s a sweet girl down at the spa–” the man, Hansen coughs, stopping himself midsentence as his eyes fall to you, “oh? And this is?”

“New assistant.” Fowler sits and pushes the tails of his jacket back.

You give your name as Hansen puts his hand out again. Instead of shaking yours, he takes it and kisses it in a very old-fashioned gesture, though something about his demeanour is sleazy.

“Lloyd,” he winks as he clings to your hand, “Mr. Hansen is so boring. Makes me sound like an old man.”

You smile and repeat his name.

“What happened to Bennet?” He turns and claims the third chair. You lower yourself, content to be peripheral to their reunion.

“Gone,” is all Fowler says as his eyes meet yours, “so, what’re you drinking, Hansen?”

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nobrain-onlysteven · 7 months

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Will Ryan Gosling every play a character who is not babygirl?

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optimist-pine · 2 months

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When Skies Are Gray (Ch.1)

Summary: You cross paths with someone from your past on the worst day of your life (which is saying a lot).

Warnings: Typical TWD content! Injury, death, suggestions of SA, language, etc.

Word Count: 1,661

Era: Between seasons 3 & 4, before Rick stops going on runs

A/n: I convinced myself that Daryl Dixon and coffee shop AU could totally go together...

One mistake. Very likely your last one at that. However, judging by the look in the man's eye, you may have just enough time to squeeze in another before your life comes to a permanent close. A grand finale of utterly screwing up. Seems fitting.

Despite everything, you don't actually desire the finality of death yet. The adrenaline surging through your bones reminds you that hope isn't completely gone until your body starts walking around, y'know, without your soul attached.

Past the end of your revolver, the man's pistol aims back at you, a cruel, sordid smile crawling across his face as his gaze roams around your figure. "Came in here lookin' for somethin' to ease our appetites... Looks like we found ourselves some dessert instead." He sounds quite pleased with himself, and you can only imagine what terrible thoughts are filling his mind.

You can't withhold the cold shiver that slips down your spine, cursing inwardly. Stupid. There were so many things you should've done differently to prevent this exact scenario from happening, but you'd gotten comfortable.

The small shop held the slightest promise of ammunition; that's the only reason you'd even risked investigating it with the encroaching threat of dusk at your heels. But you'd been sloppy in scoping the place out, and careless enough that when a cold hand grabbed you from behind you'd shot without a second thought.

Now you're reaping the repercussions of your foolishness. The lump of a body lay bleeding on the dirty linoleum floor. And you stand trapped between two men with guns who have worse intentions than using them on you.

"Dammit, man, she shot Jed!" The second man cries from behind you.

The first man doesn't even spare a glance. "If he let some bitch shoot 'im, then he d'serves it." He spits

"Duke, I dunno man." His boots shift nervously. "Let's just get tha' hell outta here." Please, please do your mind pleads.

The man named Duke begins to saunter towards you slowly, toying with you. "My pal an' I here are gonna have a fun night courtesy of you, doll. Then, after, we'll kill ya." Your arms are beginning to feel the strain from holding out your own gun for so long. You readjust your grip, but what's the point? He's almost to you now. "How's that sound?" Your thoughts are swirling, there's no way you can escape without getting at least seriously injured. But if that's the only option besides giving up willingly... well, you'll take that chance. You have to.

On the count of three... one... tw

BLAM!

You drop to the ground in a crouch, expecting the inevitable overwhelming pain of being shot to take over your body - but it never does. You lift your head to find Duke... dead. You whip around to see the other man with an arrow through his eye. Your gun's back out in an instant, aimed at a new target that emerges from behind a rusty shelf.

The new man holds a crossbow, posture rigid and shoulders sturdy. A good portion of his face is blocked by the bow except for feathers of brunette hair shrouding a blue eye.

"Whoa, there." The sound of a hammer being cocked at your back sends a rush of fury through you. Was this some sort of sick joke? Held at gunpoint by two men, then being rescued only to be held at gunpoint again by two different men? If you were honest with yourself, it wasn't all that surprising though. As far as luck went you were permanently scraping the bottom of the barrel.

The crossbow in front of you lowers suddenly. "Lav'nder?"

Now that you can see both of them clearly those blue eyes look awfully familiar. "Dixon?"

BLAM!

A blinding pain floods through your right shoulder so quickly that you collapse, sharp waves of heat blooming and spreading and taking over your whole body. You can see your gun lying in the dust and dirt. Huh, you hadn't realized you'd dropped it. You study the weapon as the daylight dims; the sun must not be wasting any time in its descent this evening. You think someone is talking but their voice is fading, the pain is numbing, the darkness is turning to black. There's never been a colder place than the floor of this cursed little shop.

One last stop before heading back home. An old hole-in-the-wall gun store on the off chance they'll find anything to help replenish the resources depleted in the fight against the Governor.

What little promise the place does have dissipates the moment a solitary gunshot rings through the air; all senses immediately on the alert. It isn't hard to discern the situation, the lead man's intentions are unmistakable. And so, they do what they've had to do too many times before.

But when the woman turns around, what he sees takes him a minute to process. You. He knows you. The word sounds stupid, but it escapes him nonetheless. Then again, maybe not completely stupid because you do remember him.

BLAM!

"Dammit!" Daryl shouts, unleashing his arrow into the skull of the third man. The man they'd mistakenly presumed was already dead. He rushes to your side, inspecting the wound. Clean through the shoulder. Good. He removes his vest and sheds his long-sleeved shirt, tying it around your shoulder, holding pressure. By the time he manages to bring himself to look you in the eye, you're already out of it.

Rick rifles around the men's belongings, gathering up their weapons and anything else that's useful. "You know her?" He asks, skeptical, with that particular cock of his head.

Daryl nods. "M'yeah. I did." He replies softly. You looked so different now; ragged, weary... alone. But still, he would recognize you anywhere. "C'mon, we gotta get 'er back to Hershel and Dr. S."

Rick's checking out your belongings now, snatching your gun off the floor to inspect it. "D'you trust her?" He asks.

Daryl hefts you up into his arms - it's easier than it should be. "She's a good one." An understatement.

"Heh, yeah." Rick chuckles, holding your gun out for him to inspect. "Cylinder's empty. Held off four men with a gun that wasn't even loaded." He gives Daryl a nod. "Let's get 'er home."

Daryl sits with your head in his lap, the rest of your body carefully draped across the backseat of the truck, hair spilling haphazardly across his pant legs. His fingertips hover nervously above your face, the overwhelming urge to physically reassure himself that you're really here growing by the second. He's terrified though. Why? Jus' do it. Rough fingers ever so gently brush dirty locks behind your ear, revealing sun-worn skin gone pale.

It's like he can't look long enough or hard enough at your face to make it feel true. To make you feel real. Are you? Out of anyone who could've found their way here from his past... Out of all the deadbeats and scumbags he would be unsurprised to find thriving in the lawlessness...

�� It was you.

The town had one lonely cafe, which was unfortunately sandwiched smack dab between the tattoo parlor and the pub - aka, Merle's playground. Once Merle had left for the military and then landed himself in prison, Daryl had kept to the same old routine more out of habit than desire.

He was on his way to the tattoo parlor late that afternoon - he can't remember why he was using the front entrance because he almost always went in through the back - but that day he had to walk past the happy little cafe to get there...

It's a warm spring day, the air beginning to fill with the scent of flowers instead of just dirt and cold. Which also means that people are sitting out front of the little coffee joint straining to soak up the last rays of sunshine. The shop windows are open to let in the fresh air, making the place seem noisier than usual.

"Lavender latte!" A barista shouts around the clamor from inside.

The screech of metal on cement to his left as a girl pushes out her chair. Just as he's about to walk past, he hears the scuff of a foot against the sidewalk and suddenly she's falling toward him. He reaches up to brace himself and stabilize her shoulders as her palms thud against his chest.

She pulls back, quick as a whip, eyes huge as pink begins to sprout on her cheeks. "I'm so sorry!" She blurts, gaze flickering around. It's weird, but he can't help but notice that she smells good, like really good. Flowers and citrus and earth, real things, not just some overpowering canned perfume like he's used to being around at the bar. She's cute too, feminine but not girly or gaudy, hair wind-whipped, hands and feet with remnants of dirt like she's been outside working. The pages of a paperback flutter in the breeze on the table behind her, the stem of a flower peeking out the bottom of the book.

"Are you okay?" She asks, eyes focused surely on his now, irises deep and unwavering and... Idiot. He's staring and he hasn't said a thing and you're waiting for a response.

"M'fine." He says with a grunt, crossing his arms. He almost tells you off for being so clumsy but the barista shouts again:

"Lavender latte!"

She brushes her hair behind her ear as if it's a nervous habit. "Oh, okay. That's good... I'd better go get that." She laughs, the corners of her lips just barely pulling up. She starts to walk away but then quickly turns back around. "Thank you!" A full smile this time, and then she disappears behind the door.

He shakes his head. Entertaining thoughts about a girl like that is ridiculous. At least, that's what he tells the rapid drumming of his heart. Shut up.

#twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #optimist pine #twd season 3 #twd season 4 #when skies are gray

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frecklystars · 2 months

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daddycassie · 2 months

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A day by the lake with miss Lucy Gray 🌼

Pairing ~ Lucy Gray Baird x Fem!Reader - 2,021 words

Warnings: Fluff to Smut, a lot of foreplay, back clawing(very briefly), bondage, praise, woah this is kinky, Lucy gray being a sub

It was early evening when your lover dragged you down to her favorite spot by the lake. She was a sweetheart in all her glory, you watch her twirl, her lavender sundress fanning out around her as you spin her playfully. Lucy Gray nearly topples over with delighted laughter, she honestly might have had she not gripped onto your shoulders for balance. When she gazes to you with lovesick, brown eyes you simply have to kiss her.

She smiles happily against your lips before setting out her favorite(only) picnic blanket. “It’s warm enough to go swimming.” You tell her thoughtfully. Lucy Gray nods, “Did you want to?” She asks. You nod back, easily undressing down to your undergarments. You were oblivious to the way she stared.

You didn’t exactly have swimsuits, so bra and underwear would have to do. When you speed off and cannonball into the water Lucy Gray watches your every step. Briefly, she folds up your clothes and proceeds to undress herself too. She walks over and drapes her legs into the water, sparkling eyes searching the deep blue for you.

You grab your lover by the legs from under the dock and she shrieks, loud and high pitched. Your laughter follows and she tries her best to glare at you. “Y/n, what the hell?!” Lucy Gray crosses her arms, bringing another smile to your face. You pull her into the water, to her great displeasure and she holds onto you tightly. “You’re too cute hon.” You say with a kiss to her nose.

Lucy Gray can’t help the smile it brings to her face. “You’re so mean to me, you know?” She says softly. “Yeah well at least I can swim.” Your girlfriend’s face flushes at the tease. “I can swim, I just… prefer to be near you, because I love you so, SO much.” She solidifies the statement with an eager kiss.

You don’t know how much you believe her words, but you kiss back anyway, caressing the exposed small of her back. Lucy Gray is smooth and warm, and you’re afraid you might start getting a little handsy when cold water hits you in the face. The way Lucy Gray giggles mischievously tells you it was her doing. “Got it up my nose you lil shit.” You huff.

“Mhmmm,” she hums, “but you wouldn’t still be kissin’ me if you were mad.” You hated that she just knew everything — or at least acted like she did. You deepen the kiss suddenly and her eyes fly open in shock. She looks at you and you stare back. She’s quick to relent, letting her eyes flutter shut as her arms wrap around your neck.

One of your hands goes to Lucy Gray’s long hair, gently tugging and kneading there. Your other hand squeezes her hip, caressing it with your thumb. You feel the way your songbird’s heart thuds in her chest. The way her breath hitches. The way her hips press against you and you simply can’t resist—

She pulls away, taking a deep breath and you’re brought back to your senses. “Mmh, careful there.” Lucy Gray chuckles nervously. “I’m always careful.” You whisper, and kiss her jaw. Her eyes snap shut again and her legs hook around you. “Sure you are…” she mumbles back. Your hand moves down from her hair, to the small of her back again.

You want to turn her around and kiss a pattern down it till she quivers beneath you. You revel in the way Lucy Gray whines into the evening air. In this lighting she looks like a goddess, to you she is. She looks down at you while you lean in and kiss her vulnerable neck.

Lucy Gray bites her lip. Especially when you start biting. Tears prick at the corners of her cute doe eyes. “Y/n, baby, m-maybe we should get out of the water?” She offers faintly. “Mm. Right, blanket?” Lucy Gray nods in quick agreement to your words.

It’s not very difficult to carry her over to the little picnic blanket, even less so to lay her down. As soon as you’re leaning over her she presses her hips up against you with a quiet whimper. It’s warm, you note, she must be pretty desperate. You pull her hair again so her head leans back and her neck is bared.

As soon as she’s vulnerable again, you continue to make quick work of kissing and biting her neck. Lucy Gray’s continued little noises are quite the reward, and you decide it may be time to be a little cruel. Revenge for the splashing, after all. You drop your hips down on hers, effectively pinning them down against the blanket. She groans loudly in response, her breath is warm and steamy. Your lover’s muscles tense in failed attempts to buck her hips and you can’t help smirking. “What’s wrong Lucy Gray?” You coo to her. “Please… don’t be cruel.” Lucy Gray breathes her words. You love the way her nails dig into your shoulders needily.

She cries out particularly loudly when you start sucking on her neck, leaving marks that will surely be hard to cover up later. You decide to tease her a little. “Those ones won’t be easy to cover up, maybe I should move… lower.” Lucy Gray moans at your words. “Please, yes.” She nods frantically.

You lift your hips off of hers, only to press your knee between her legs after, causing her to tremble. “Baby, baby please.” She sounds pitifully desperate. You peel away Lucy Gray’s wet bra and admire her for a while. Certainly, the beauty in front of you was blessed by Aphrodite.

You place your hand on her chest, and she quickly arches into the touch. “Good girl.” You speak without thinking. The noise she makes in response is absolutely filthy and the way she grinds into your knee… it’s irresistible. You want to hear that voice sobbing brokenly into your ear.

You squeeze, knead and pull her chest and her pretty moans continue. You drink in Lucy Gray’s voice like it’s the last time you’ll ever hear it. “Please, please—“ she’s cut off by a whine when you stand.

“Come back!” Lucy Gray bites her lower lip for a moment, trying to lure you back with a pleading look. You look back with a smirk, “I’ll be back sweetheart, I just need to grab something I promise you’ll like it.” She doesn’t seem convinced but doesn’t complain further as you walk off to the shed.

When you come back, Lucy Gray is sitting up, having undressed herself the rest of the way, she pouts. “You took too long.” She spoke with a sharp edge to her voice. That edge would melt like butter soon. “Sorry, I got you something.” You smile, pushing her back down to resume the previous position. You hold up a smooth piece of rope. “Think you’d be okay if I bind your wrists up?”

Lucy Gray’s eyes narrow and she nods, when it came to you she was sure she could trust that you would make sure she enjoyed herself. You ball up a small piece of white cloth. “And this?” You ask, knowing she’ll understand what you’re asking. Again, she nods. Carefully, you adjust the position so that Lucy Gray is laying belly down propped up on her elbows, you hold yourself on top of her still.

You bring your lover’s wrists to your lips and kiss her pulse points, you can feel her fast heart beat. You tie her wrists out in front of her, assuring her comfort as you tighten and knot it. Lucy Gray tests its security with a couple tugs and then a thumbs up. You gesture for her to open her mouth and use the white cloth as a gag, if her short hum says anything, she’s definitely pleased.

Once she’s ready, you continue toying with her chest. Lucy Gray pants heatedly, the longer you tease, the mistier she seems. By the time you become bored of messing with her breasts she’s covered in a sheen of sweat. When she looks back at you, you see the dark lust in her eyes.

Your hands travel down her navel, and she groans into the cloth gag, pressing back flush against you. She was a little overwhelmed, but in the best way possible, she feels dizzy when you spread her legs apart. “That’s it, wider now. You’re doing so good.” Her honey eyes glaze out of focus and the world seems hazy when you praise her.

When you finally touch her sensitivity, Lucy Gray wants many things. She wants to slap you, she wants you to touch her, she wants to yell at you, she wants you to hurry up and fuck her already. She whines into the gag, hoping it would urge you to do something. The brunette feels great relief when you actually do, she presses her face down into the blanket as your fingers caress her clit.

Her hips jolt and her thighs tremble while you touch the bundle of nerves, she tries for louder moans but the gag makes it hard. You snicker behind her as she clenched tightly around nothing. Lucy Gray attempts a huff, but it turns into a whine when you circle her slit.

She squeezes her teary eyes shut and tries to plead with you, but there isn’t much she can do but squirm while you teethe at her neck roughly. She can feel each mark left behind, and it stings in just the right way that makes her eyes roll. You continue teasing her entrance, her muffled whimpers tell you all you need to know about how good it feels. Her hips grind down, rewarding her with a bit more friction, but not enough.

Lucy Gray feels your free hand on her chest, and you flick her there softly. She only trembles harder, her elbows struggling to support her. Finally, finally, you press one finger into her and with how overstimulated she feels it’s enough to make her scream under the gag. She squirms and jerks and cries, and you think it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

Lucy Gray is beyond soaked, and not just because of the dip in the lake. Her walls feel searingly hot, and the tightness makes fingering her harder, but somehow more satisfying. You press in the second finger slower, trying not to hurt her too much. The smaller woman bites down on the cloth, nearly choking on it as she moans. You thrust slowly, trying to get her used to the feeling.

It takes a long time, and Lucy Gray feels like she’s being tortured from the slow in, out, in, out, in, out. It’s driving her mad at this point, so she pulls against her restraints, moaning against the feeling of restriction and bucks her hips repeatedly to set a faster pace. Lucy Gray’s neediness shows, and you decide to give in, a third finger joins your thrusts and your thumb circles her swollen clit.

Lucy Gray’s eyes roll back as she’s finally driven up the wall, she tightly grips the picnic blanket and cries out over and over. You wrap your free arm around your girlfriend’s waist to hold her still and go rougher, faster. The wet sounds of skin on skin and the filth frantically babbled from her lips are pleasure enough for you. “Good girl, cum for me.” You whisper in her ear, curling your fingers.

Lucy Gray tenses, finally coming undone on your fingers. Wetness drips on your hand and she limps against the blanket. You remove your hand, cleaning it off while Lucy Gray tries to catch her breath. You remove the gag and untie her so she can do so easier.

Lucy Gray moves with a slight groan, and lays her head on your lap, “That was…” she begins to speak, but doesn’t finish. “The best?” She nods to you and you play with her hair.

“I don’t think I can move my legs.”

“How tragic, you’re at my mercy.”

“Don’t even think about it Y/n.”

Note: sooo, technically this is my first written out smut, so take it easy on me, I’m workin on it :,) also uh, don’t know what id do exactly, but maybe part 2? Let me know if you guys want it. @lucygraysbabygirl

#gay girls #sapphic #wlw #lucy gray baird x reader #tbosas #rachel zegler #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #The ballad of my gay ass pining for Lucy Gray #Lucy Gray #haha more like Lucy Gay #Haha more like Lusty Gray #Haha more like Lusty Gay #Lucy Gray smut #lucy gray baird fanfic #lucy gray baird #lucy gray Baird smut #lucy gray x reader

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livwritesstuff · 3 months

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I’m not going to lie I’ve been thinking nonstop about Grey and Moe and the tiktok you said they would be as like an unaware couple. How do you think Moe’s family reacts when they finally realize they’ve been into each other the whole time? Like is anyone shocked or was it kinda understood what was happening to everyone but Moe and Grey? I live for this AU and think about it way too much to be normal.

i am also thinking about this ‘verse way too much. i have so many other things i’d love to be working on but i simply cannot because this is the only thing i ever want to write

Anyhoo, yeah, Moe and Gray getting together is a surprise to no one except for Moe. Steve had seen that shit coming since they were in middle school, and Eddie caught on not too long later.

Gray knew too – I feel like it’s a Gray fell first, Moe fell harder situation, where Gray realized they had a crush on Moe sometime in high school, but given how they never felt safe coming out to their parents while still living under their roof, the Harrington house was one of very few spaces where they could be 100% Gray without having to hide anything. “Selfishly” (because it’s not actually selfish, but it might feel that way at sixteen-years-old) Gray wanted to preserve that more than they wanted to risk what could be lost if Moe didn’t feel the same way.

Moe, on the other hand, had no idea. I was watching Clueless the other day and realized that she’s kind of like Cher if you dialed the bubbliness all the way down and the logic/reason all the way up. She’s a schemer, she’s always got something going on, and she’s got a seriously chronic case of tunnel vision, so she doesn’t always notice even very obvious things happening around her if it isn’t the exact thing she’s focusing on. Given that Gray had been a constant fixture in Moe’s life since kindergarten, Moe didn’t really think too much about what exactly she was feeling about Gray until the utterly in love with them basically smacked her in the face.

They finally started dating during their last year of college and, in true Moe fashion, she forgot to tell anyone. Steve and Eddie had to find out from Robbie (who only knew because she was living with both of them at the time).

Steve, during a routine call with Robbie: What's Moe up to tonight?

Robbie: She and Gray went out to dinner somewhere for their anniversary, I think.

Steve: *looks at Eddie for any sign he knew about this*

Eddie, just as clueless: Uhh...what??

(Eddie proceeded to torture what restaurant they were at out of Robbie and called to cover their bill, and then he made the hostess put Moe on the phone to congratulate them)

On the whole, though, everyone was thrilled about it. Eddie had always joked that Gray was his favorite child, and Steve liked to say that he wishes he could declare them as a fourth kid for the extra tax break at the end of the year. Gray had already been practically another member of the family, so Moe and Gray getting together didn’t change anything other than making that official.

#robbie def got stuck in the middle of moe and gray’s painful pining just like robin had to deal with the same from steve and eddie #truly living up to her namesake #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

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talos-stims · 11 months

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dipper pines [gravity falls] stimboard with nature stims in brown and gray for @gothicsanriobabi!

🍂|🪨|🍁

🪨|🪵|🪨

🍁|🪨|🍂

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thehumantrap · 1 month

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Ryan Gosling Characters Spotify

I had the idea to make some playlists for some of Ryans characters - feel free to save them and follow if you like ❤️

Holland March

Ken

Colt Seavers

Ryan Characters generally

Sierra Six / Court Gentry

Driver

Henry Letham

Jacob Palmer

Luke Glanton

Officer K

Sebastian Wilder

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oneleggedflamingo · 1 month

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30.12-23

Silver hour.

- Vivera Rossi

#gray aesthetic #pines #winter #snow #finland #photography #original photographers #trees #nature

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mx-typewriter · 5 months

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So I'll just take a footnote in your life-

But you could take my body, every line

I would write for you,

but a footnote will do-

#lyrics #red says things #endlessly pining #help #conan gray #Spotify

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sirdindjarin · 2 years

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Twirls hair giggles kicks feet

#and also i ripped a 7day free trial of picsart LMFAO #im bored wt work can u tell #ryan gosling #rg #ryan gosling icons #i literally do not give a fuck if people want to use these btw #the nice guys #the gray man #drive #the place beyond the pines #personal

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gfanlocalcryptid · 2 months

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"Family Line" by Conan Gray feat. The Pines family

(About Fillbrick) My father never talked a lot

He just took a walk around the block

'Til all his anger took a hold of him

And then he'd hit

(About Caryn) My mother never cried a lot

She took the punches, but she never fought

(This didn't actually happen but they could be Caryn's thoughts) 'Til she said, "I'm leaving, and I'll take the kids"

So she did

(Caryn and Fillbrick together) I say they're just the ones who gave me life

But I truly am my parents' child

(Stan) Scattered 'cross my family line

I'm so good at telling lies

(Caryn's work) That came from my mother's side

(Stan living alone on the road) Told a million to survive

(Stan) Scattered 'cross my family line

God, I have my father's eyes

(Little Ford getting bullied) But my (brother's) sister's when I cry

I can run, but I can't hide

From my family line

(Ford) It's hard to put it into words

(Going home during breaks form college)How the holidays will always hurt

I watch the fathers with their little girls

And wonder what I did to deserve this

How could you hurt a little kid?

I can't forget, I can't forgive you

(About Fiddleford and Bill) 'Cause now I'm scared that everyone I love will leave me

Scattered 'cross my family line

(Ford saying that all he wants is to become a famous scientist when he really just wants to be loved) I'm so good at telling lies

That came from my mother's side

(Surviving in the Multiverse) Told a million to survive

Scattered 'cross my family line

(Ford looking in a mirror while his eye bleeds) God, I have my father's eyes

(Paranoid Ford after the betrayal) But my (brother's) sister's when I cry

I can run, but I can't hide

From my family line

(Weirdmageddon) Oh, all that I did to try to undo it

All of my pain and all your excuses

I was a kid but I wasn't clueless

Someone who loves you wouldn't do this

(Memory Gun scene) All of my past, I tried to erase it

(Stan looking at Mabel and Dipper's and him and Ford's pictures) But now I see, would I even change it?

(They switch identities) Might share a face and share a last name, but

We are not the same

(Mabel) Scattered 'cross my family line

(Mabeland) I'm so good at telling lies

That came from my mother's side

(She pretending to accept to become the Gnome Queen) Told a million to survive

(Dipper) Scattered across my family line

(Him and Ford having the same look of amazement and awe when they discover something new) God, I have my father's eyes

(Mabel finding out that he wants to become Ford's apprentice and stay in Gravity Falls) But my sister's when I cry

(Him during Weirdmageddon) I can run, but I can't hide

(Everyone together yey) From my family line

From my family line

#Angst #My favorite flavor #gravity falls #pines family #Pines twins #mystery twins #stanley pines #stanford pines #dipper pines #mabel pines #fillbrick pines #caryn pines #family line conan gray #gravity falls playlist #Spotify

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