rb with your name, orientations and gender, preferred pronouns, optionally some struggles or joy being LGBTQ has brought you, and some comfort/affirmations or whatever for the person before and after you!!!! why is this so detailed bruh. and tag peeps ig??
Hai! I'm Nyxon
I am transgender FTM, asexual, and omniromantic!
My preferred pronouns are he/they!
Being LGBTQ makes me happy. Despite being cloested, it makes me feel like what I am actually makes sense and I'm not just some weird ahh guy. I used to be a girl who was angry a lot of the time for no reason, which is ironic ngl
I am [sexuality has not been unlocked], asexual, and nonbinary!
My preferred pronouns are They/Them. :)
I have a bunch of friends in the LGBTQ+ society...*stares*
Person before me: *deep breath* GET GENDER-AFFIRMED NYXON! HOW HE/HIM OF YOU! THEIR SO AWESOME GUYS LOOK HE/THEY HE/THEY HE/THEY BOY BOY BOY! AHHH THEY ARE SO ACCEPTED AND SCRUMPTIOUS WOWZA! EVERYONE LOVES THEM THEM THEM RIGHT???? (I am. So sorry if this is overboard. ^^' You can burn me at the stake if you want.)
Person after me: You're so cool and amazing and I think you deserve everything you put your little LGBTQ+ friendly heart to. :)
Happy pride month everyone! Have a very safe month because I am going to run over all the homophobe-shaped speed bumps as a treat! :3c
@sacabambaspis-offical @ashelf66 @confused-cookie-blog @toaster-waffle-offical @bacone-official @britishtea-again @unlabelled-offical @genderqueer-offical + anyone else who wants to join! Yay! This was fun! ^^
hey, i'm genderqueer. (no real name yet... so nicknames are very welcome)
i am genderfluid, aegosexual, and abroromantic!
[id: i am genderfluid, aegosexual, and abroromantic!]
my preferred pronouns depend on the day or situation... but i use she/her and he/him separately, or sometimes interchangeably. currently i think i'm going by he/him right now...
being queer is a very mixed experience for me. romantically, i absolutely love that i am able to feel attraction towards the beauty of every gender (albeit, sometimes at different times), however, for sexual and gender orientations, it can make me quite frustrated. because i'm afab, my gender dysphoria can be insane when i'd rather be male, which makes it irritatingly hard to be alone with my thoughts. secondly, the only reason i'm aegosexual (asexual) is due to the fact that i am not amab. when i'm feeling more male, i have a tendency to fantasize (not going to say it explicitly, but you know what i mean) and have it immediately tamped down because i don't have an amab body. it can get really fucking annoying.
person before me: hey pen, thanks for tagging me! you seem really cool and i'm very grateful that you're running over all the negativity :) have a safe and happy pride month!
person after me: though i haven't read your post, all of you experiences are valid. if you aren't already, you are going to be okay, things are going to work out, and everything you've done will very soon pay off. thank you so much for reblogging this post and sharing part of your life with us! have an absolutely gorgeous day, and an even better pride month <3
i'm choir, not sure i really have any other names here yet ^^
i am non-binary, asexual and panromantic!
my preferred pronouns are they/them
being queer is important to me. there are so many labels that you can find and sure it may take a while before you find the right one, but the community is so accepting most of the time. i feel like i have a chance to be free in my identity, even if i'm closeted to my family and even though i struggle every day with nearly being outed.
person before me: thank you for tagging me, genderqueer!! i've always admired genderfluid people - even if you don't really choose how you feel and when, i've always gotten the kindest vibes from you. i think you're strong and brave in sharing about your identity and the reasons for your sexuality, a lot of people would never share that. have a fantastic day + pride month!
person after me: thank you for reblogging! you are loved, you are worth it, you are allowed to be whoever you want to be. nobody else can stop you from being whoever you are, even if it's just for yourself. happy pride month everyone!
i'm trans agender, aroace, and experience alterous attraction. my pronouns are they/he etc.
i'm very lucky to be surrounded by people for who the most part accept me for who i am. i know not all queer people get that so i try to be grateful every day. i love being trans, i love being genderqueer, i love loving my friends without romance, i love being part of such a large community of loving people. i'm proud to be who i am and i think over the years i've become a lot more accepting of myself and more eager to be loudly who i am
to choir: thanks for the tag! it's great to know another enby ace person, and obviously the actual choir thing is a huge plus for me. i haven't known you for very long but i think you're great and i wish you nothing but happiness. happy pride month!!!
to the person after me: somedays life is going to be hard, but i'm rooting for you! if you're happy with who you are now, i'm happy for you. and if you're still working on acceptance, i'm here to say that you are valid for who you are. love you!
@whatifiwasmadeofbones @drumsticks-offical + open tags! i don't know that many people to tag since i'm a very new blog
thank you for the tag!! hello call me bones. or don’t. i’m not a cop.
i am some kind of transmasc not really sure lmao. considering genderfaun, boyflux, and boything as labels. i’m biromantic and either asexual, or homosexual and fraysexual. I use any pronouns other than she/her with a preference for he/him and they/them!
i love being queer. i find myself in a community with so many lovely people where we understand what each other are going through and that’s really beautiful to me :) also can’t imagine what i would do were i limited to being romantically attracted to one gender lmao. everyone is too pretty for that. i’m very grateful for being trans so that i can really make a conscious choice about who i want to be if that makes sense!
to tenor: hi!! you are such a lovely person and i’m very glad to have met another choir enthusiast on here. tenors are super rad and you are no different. happy pride month!
to the next person: know that i am so proud of you, wherever you are in your journey. whether you have everything figured out, you’re questioning a lot, or you’re anywhere in between, you have made it through so much to find your true self. that is so much to do and i am so very proud of you.
npts: @not-linkachu @11-1366559937 @touch-tone-collective (any of y’all) @duckofmisfortuneoffical @lilspark-offical @gold-offical @grisha-offical + open in case i missed anyone!
I'm not exactly sure what my sexuality is. I may be aromatic, but maybe I'm lesbian or bisexual? or something in between. idrk yet. (it's my first time actually talking about it on the internet so be nice pls)
My pronouns are she/her
Even when I'm still questioning, I am surrounded by queer people (both online and irl) and I must say that all of you are the nicest people on earth. I am happy to be with you and ily all.
to Bones: ty for tagging me in literally the best tag game rn. I hope your day as well as the rest of your life will be full of happiness and everything and anything you may want from life.
to the next person: uhh..... *hugs you* i love you SO much.
tag list: @gus-offical @ihavenoconsistentinterests @mossinmytea @coffee--spill @nelly-rebellyyyyy @playlist-offical @timelinesjwriter @random-indian-girl @ashyd-shy @the-one-and-only-piper-offical @lovesflourmorethananything @crows-are-cool09 @rainbowkessem @imightbeafaerie-official-offical @wesperfaerie @queerbookbitch @sicklyvicktorianboy @algae122 @carthyanstar + anyone who feels like joining
I use any and all pronouns (If someone has had their pronouns go missing, my bad. In my defense they are tasty :3)
I don't fully know what I am yet but I think I am a demi-romantic gray sexual and I guess I am gender queer or maybe pan gender, the flag is more pretty lol
I love being gay so much, it has allowed me to make all sorts of different flavoured friends (lgbt+ wise, not flavour flavour wise lol) and I can be weird and people won't judge me for it!
It does suck when questioning my gender and sexuality tho 😅
Like I am supposed to be studying, why are you thinking of this now?? But whatever lol
Uhhh grisha, I don't really know you that well on a personal level but I love being tagged in whatever u tag me in, especially tag games. It's nice to think that a person I don't even know thought about me (sorry if that seems kinda selfish, I promise I don't mean it in that way! I mean it in I am grateful you do that kind of way!!)
To the next person: we most likely don't know each other in real life. And that's ok. One thing which I think is underated is care from strangers.
So from one stranger to another, I hope you have a wonderful, fun and happy life surrounded by people who love and support you no matter who you are <3
(also how are you guys getting colourful text?? I want colour ;-;)
Im not quite sure of my gender, for now I go as agender with any and all pronouns
I think im aroace or somewhere on that spectrum, but only time will tell ig
Being aroace and enby-spec has given me a sort of freeing feeling from social norms and whatnot, and it makes me feel free to love the world in my own way without any personal expectations for romance n stuff
Crow, i feel ya, questioning ts sucks, but we'll figure it out someday
uh. To whoevers next - dont let queerphodes get to ya, you'll always have a place here with us
@soil-clown @chocymilkmilo @chaos-incarnate-xd @ilovecoveysongs, and anyone else
Hello. I'm Claude, he/him. I keep wavering between being gay and bi, but I'm probably gay. I'm definitely not straight, that I know for sure.
It's not easy being a part of the LBGT community in a family that is not accepting and it was also a problem for me to come to terms with myself as someone with a religious background. Thankfully, I don't bully myself into being "normal" anymore because I have figured out that I already am normal. The next step is to explain that to my parents.
To Artemisia: Don't let anyone make you get married and have children like a good girl if you don't want to. They should mind their own business.
To everyone else: Be yourself and let others be themselves. Let nobody drag your spirit down.
i think I’ve always been kinda ok with my sexuality, not the most supportive people around me but I’ve been doing well enough on my own. My friends are all the support I need.
I’m happy about the way I am, I wouldn’t have it any other way
@anyone that wants to join, im sorry idk who to specifically tag
I have a bunch of friends who are also in the lgbt community and they're all amazing and supportive people. I've always been happy with my sexuality and I'm forever grateful to have people who support me by my side (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
Panromantic, Asexual, Trans (ftm), genderfluid, They/Them He/Him
My friend group consists mostly of alt queer ppl (like me :3) and I adore them to shreds. I used to question my asexuality though because of all that stupid discourse, but I’m fully of the belief that if you identify as queer, that’s all you need to be “valid”.
When I realized that I'm pan, I thought for sure that it would open up so many avenues in terms of dating. But I still haven't ever been in a relationship... 😅
pairing: Jackie Taylor x fem!r
summary: You've picked up a summer job cleaning pools, and Jackie Taylor has just returned home from Rutgers. Too bad that Shauna's studying abroad all summer, and she's just so bored.
note: minors dni. blame the usual suspect for encouraging me heavily on the idea of jackie in a bikini.
You glance over your shoulder as conspicuously as you can manage, but it doesn't matter. Not with the way Jackie's blatantly staring right at you through her sunglasses. Someone should really tell her the lenses weren't nearly as dark as she thought they were. The second your eyes meet, her eyes dart away guiltily.
She fumbles with the magazine propped on her stomach as she turns to the next page, the glossy papers rustling together as she thumbs through them. Jackie must be really interested in the pictures to be holding it upside down the way she is.
Whatever.
Maybe you would care more if it wasn't for how impossibly long her legs looked as she stretched out on the pool chair, tanned skin glistening in the sun with one knee bent up like an invitation. There was a faint shimmer to her skin, some kind of sunscreen–stupidly expensive, knowing her–that serves to pull your eyes back just as much as it protects her from the sun. Every slow shift of her body has to be purposeful. The way her back arches as she gets comfortable in her chair, how her abs flex as she turns over to prop herself on her elbows to sun her back, even down to the way her thighs brush against one another as she adjusts her position. You refuse to live in a world where it isn't on purpose.
How was it even possible for someone to just look like that? Like she was something that should have been on the pages of a magazine instead of gracing you with a glimpse of heaven in her parents backyard. Sometimes it felt like Jackie Taylor existed only to tempt you–something that she seems to take more than her fair share of pleasure in.
The girl has been driving you mad since she got home from college, and it doesn't seem like she plans on stopping anytime soon. You hadn't even met on the smoothest of terms. You still remembered watching her practically skip out to the pool in a bikini top that didn’t match the bottoms the day after she got home. Her hair was messily tied back, stray strands effortlessly framing her face in a way that would make anyone else look like they just rolled out of bed. She had her earbuds in, probably blasting some generic pop song judging by the beat she was humming along to as she had set her towel down on the chair. She stopped with a mortified squeak as she caught sight of you, eyes wide with shock and something else, before turning on her heel and darting back inside like you'd caught her in the middle of a crime. Jackie had even left the towel.
At first you thought that maybe she was just shy. It seems unlikely for how gorgeous she was, but some girls were just like that. It quickly became clear that you were mistaken on that front. A shy girl would not let the strap of her bikini top sit that low on her shoulder, only to make a show of slowly tugging it back into place when she caught you looking over as you skimmed leaves out of her parents' pool. A shy girl definitely wouldn’t twirl the rim of her sunglasses around delicate fingers in a lazy, almost absent-minded way that was almost obscene. You almost fell in the pool the time she made deliberate eye contact with you while doing it.
That first time had to have been a fluke, because it felt like she had declared war on you since.
This wasn’t how you expected to spend your summer after you picked up a gig cleaning pools. It was supposed to be easy money, mostly old people who complained about their grandkids not visiting enough and the occasional divorcee. And that’s all it was for the most part. Sure, you had gotten a few jokes about it from your friends about the whole bored housewife thing, but that sort of thing doesn’t actually happen in real life. Or, at least, it didn’t until Jackie had rolled back in from Rutgers with a tan, a smirk, and a dream.
She wasn’t exactly a housewife, but you weren’t exactly disappointed. You knew of her in high school. Everyone did. Captain of the Yellowjackets. Prom queen. The kind of girl so beautiful you want to die a little inside after seeing her. Untouchable. Too good to be real.
If there was a word for it, Jackie was probably that.
But if you had to describe her lately, you would settle on tease.
…
Jackie looks up hopefully from her book as you turn the corner, only for it to turn into a frown as she gets a better look at you. She pouts, turning her attention back to the book she’s been suffering through your last few visits. It’s some classic that she doesn’t seem to care for—seeming to prefer her fiction modern and tropey—but that Shauna had been talking her ear off about over the phone. Shauna, who apparently was spending a summer abroad in France, was the sole reason you were fighting off bikini-clad blondes with a stick.
Seriously, did anyone else on Earth own as many as she did? You don’t think you’ve seen her repeat any yet, each seemingly showing more skin than the last. Every week you think it’ll be impossible to beat the last, and every week she surprises you. By the end of the summer she’ll be lounging by the pool with nothing but strategically placed strings at this rate.
“No swimsuit. You’re not getting in today, huh?”
It’s phrased as a question, but not a single part of her sounds like she’s asking one. Just commenting on her apparent disappointment as she places her bookmark carefully between the pages of her book. It closes with a soft thud, leaving her fingertips to settle on a side table less than a second later.
Discarded.
“No,” you agree, turning your head to look at her. “You could get in, though, if you wanted. It wouldn’t bother me much.”
That wasn’t exactly true; it would be pretty inconvenient, but you didn’t want to deny her anything.
“Mm, no,” Jackie says simply.
You hum thoughtfully, tilting your head to the side in consideration.
“You know, I don't think I've ever seen you actually swim.”
Jackie laughs, shrugging her shoulders loosely. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Bet you can’t,” you accuse, but Jackie doesn’t even acknowledge the bait as she reaches over to grab a bottle of sunscreen sitting on the side table.
She flips the cap with her thumb in a practiced motion, which it might as well have been with how much time she seems to spend out here, squeezing some out on her palms before rubbing them together. As she stretches out her legs, going straight to the most dangerous option, you force yourself to look away. Desperate to find anything else to look at besides her thighs as her fingers glide over smooth skin.
“Could you get my back?”
“Your… your back,” you repeat dumbly.
Jackie waves the bottle of sunscreen pointedly.
“Sunscreen. You know, you squeeze it on your hands and then rub it into your skin so you don’t get burned? It’s pretty simple stuff, really. I could help you if—“
“I know what sunscreen is, Jackie.”
“You sure?” She teases. “It’s just, you looked a little lost, is all.”
“Shut up,” you mutter, crossing the space between you to snatch the bottle from her hands.
“Grumpy,” she accuses, not sounding put out in the least as she leans forward in her chair so you can reach her back. You have to remind yourself not to take advantage of the view the position affords you: the sheer drop down her top as the material gapes just enough to hint at what’s beneath.
Keeping her eyes firmly on her back doesn’t help much either, not with the long stretch of tanned skin and the peek of pale skin just visible beneath her top. Jackie gasps as your fingers touch her skin, the cold press of sunscreen making her shiver and jerk away.
“Hey!”
“Baby,” you mutter, pulling your hands away and rubbing them together to warm them up before rubbing it into her shoulders.
Jackie lets out a sound that sounds suspiciously like a moan, her shoulders relaxing as she tilts her head temptingly to the side. You almost drop the bottle of sunscreen as you fumble with the lid, squirting more on your hands in lieu of what you really want to do: lean down and press your lips against the side of her neck to coax more of those little sounds out of her.
You slip your fingers briefly underneath the straps of her top, ignoring her sharp intake of breath to rub it into her skin almost clinically. Anything that you could do just to be done with it before you go and do something stupid. Her lower back was simpler in comparison, much less temptation as you methodically cover up her skin.
“There,” you say, surprised by the hint of disappointment that enters your voice as you pull away. More surprising is the way it’s clearly mirrored on her own face.
“Thanks,” she says quietly, grabbing the bottle from your hands as you hold it up in offering. Her fingers brush against yours a touch too long to be accidental, but neither of you has the nerve to acknowledge it as she pulls away.
You get caught up in the moment, staring at her fingers as they pull away from your hand. You’ve never quite noticed them before, not with the amount of skin exposed for your viewing pleasure lately, but now you’re finding yourself struggling to look away. There’s something about—
“The pool,” she interrupts.
“What?”
“You need to clean the pool,” she says in a low whisper, hand cupping her mouth as if letting you in on a little secret. Jackie looks far too pleased with herself, like the cat that ate the canary.
“Right,” you answer stiffly, turning on your heels and walking back to your equipment.
Days that you came to the Taylors’ seem to stretch on forever. Jackie makes sure of that. It’s the only thing you’ve ever seen her commit to besides soccer and Shauna. Though, you have to admit, those were the only two things you knew about her prior to cleaning her pool.
“Don’t let me distract you, after all,” Jackie continues, stretching out on the lounger as she watches you move around the pool.
You barely resist the urge to flip her off, clinging desperately to the last threads of your professionalism. That ship had long sailed, but you needed something to help keep you sane when Jackie was determined to tease you so thoroughly. Seriously, asking you to rub her sunscreen on her back? She was forcing you to live through clichés now.
That wasn’t even the worst part. It was working so damn well that it was embarrassing. She was playing you like a fool, and you still weren’t sure if she even wanted you to give in. Maybe she was just the type to play games.
Maybe you were just screwed.
“I won’t,” you say unconvincingly.
Jackie doesn’t even pretend to believe you, taking a sip from her drink as she holds the straw loosely between her fingers. She makes no move to pick up her book again, content to just stare. Part of you wishes she would, if only to free yourself from the intensity of holding her attention. But you don’t want that, not really. You like the way it makes you feel.
Special.
Her attention was never won that easily in high school. In fact, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen anyone hold it but Shauna. Not even her ex-boyfriend, who seemed to exist on the fringes, ever held her attention for long. It makes you feel important to be part of that exclusive club, no matter how much you claim to have outgrown that need for recognition that had plagued you as a teenager. Somehow she brought you right back to it.
Half your summer has been plagued by old people complaining about whatever nonissue they'd decided to fixate on, curious housewives bringing you a glass of water simply for the thrill of it, and the occasional perving teenage boy that you had to chase away with the business end of your skimmer. There was a brief bit of excitement when it came to the Matthews’, but you'd quickly realized that Lottie was only interested in flirting with you when that blonde girl was around to watch. That had been quite the bummer.
But it was safe to say that you'd gotten more than your fair share of attention this summer, to the point that you'd normally do just about anything to get out of the spotlight.
You were surprised by how much you didn't mind the attention when it came from her. It was different somehow. Jackie never made you feel like you were a commodity, no matter how much time she spent eyeing you like a bag of meat. At least she spent an equal amount of time badgering you about anything and everything under the sun. You're not sure anyone's ever asked you as in-depth questions about yourself as Jackie has in the last few weeks, and especially not with the genuine desire to listen.
Right now, though, Jackie was far too concerned with the way you bent down to mess with something near the surface.
Maybe you're giving her too much credit.
…
As you park your car in the street in front of the Taylor’s house—you’ve learned how particular rich people can be about seeing your car parked in their driveway—you can vaguely see the curtains shift by the front window out of the corner of your eye, but you just wave it off as an errant burst of wind from the air conditioning. Still, a part of you wonders…
But no, that would be crazy, right? Jackie Taylor sitting around waiting for you of all people seems unlikely. Having to get up so damn early to clean pools every day was really starting to get to your head. You hadn’t expected that this sort of job would involve getting up so early, but it seems like most of your clients preferred that you were neither seen nor heard. Jackie was an exception to that rule, but that girl seems to be an exception to most things.
Gorgeous and kind just wasn’t fair.
By the time you had gathered all your equipment up and slipped through the side gate out to the Taylor’s pool, Jackie was already lounging back on her chair, phone in hand. She turns her head lazily to look over at you, reaching up to prop her sunglasses on her head to get a better look at you. Her eyes flick up and down slowly, taking in the sight of you in your swim trunks with something almost bordering on excitement. Jackie was always strangely helpful the times when you actually had to get in the pool to clean it.
For the sake of your own mental health, you try not to question it all that much. You especially don’t question the little flutter your heart gives as Jackie waves her fingertips at you briefly in greeting before pulling her sunglasses back down. The sight of her tanned, glistening skin has you looking away as you pretend to fidget with your equipment and hope it doesn’t look as obvious as it feels.
Someone needs to tell her that it’s 9 AM.
You're surprised to find her up this early with how many times she had completely missed homeroom in high school. Truthfully, it was half the reason you had made your way out to the Taylors’ so early in the first place. It was completely out of schedule, but you had hoped to swing by and be gone before Jackie had even gotten up.
Yet, here Jackie was out by the pool with her drink, looking like something that just walked out of one of those magazines she was always toting around. Her hair was still damp, the strands clinging to her skin in a way that was entirely too pleasant. She wore a bikini that looks more complementary than practical, which makes you suspect her hair was evidence of an early morning shower than the dip in the pool you were expecting.
“You’re up early,” you comment, giving her an awkward smile as you pull your pool skimmer.
Jackie’s nose crinkles in confusion, her lips pursing slightly as she pulls one of her headphones out of her ear. The faint drone of her music drifts out of her earbud, breaking the silence of the morning.
“What?”
You wince, revisiting the urge to bury your head in your hands.
“You’re up early,” you repeat.
Jackie grins, slow and lazy, lifting her sunglasses up just high enough to give you a wink.
Jesus.
“So you were wondering, huh?”
You scoff, tightening your grip on the skimmer and hoping she doesn’t catch the hint of a flush gracing your cheeks. Of course she notices, because why wouldn’t she? Lately it felt like she was studying up on all things you. The constant scrutiny made you squirm, and you wish you could say that you hated it. Then again, you’re not sure anyone could hate being on the receiving end of those eyes.
“I mean, you came all the way out here, right?” Jackie continues, undaunted. “You had to be thinking about me at least a little bit.”
“This is—I work here,” you sputter unconvincingly. It’s not like the accusation was untrue. You had been thinking about her. That was obvious enough.
Thoughts of Jackie have been taking up more and more of your conscious mind lately. And, embarrassingly enough, your unconscious mind as well. The thought of what happened in your dream last night made you blush for real, trying not to think about how soft her skin had felt beneath your hands before you woke up.
It’s why you came over so early in the first place, trying to avoid seeing her in the flesh after waking up with the taste of her on your tongue. You didn’t expect to find her here, especially not looking like a Vogue model. But that was your life lately.
“But you put some thought into whether I was awake or not.”
“The thought may have crossed my mind somewhere between the car and the gate,” you admit finally. The answer felt safe enough.
“That’s sweet.”
“It’s not sweet. I just didn’t expect you to roll out of bed before noon.”
Jackie pouts, lifting her drink up to her lips to take a drink from her straw. She must really be going through those little umbrellas. You’ve never seen her drink anything without one. The condensation drips down her wrist, and a part of you wants to trace the line with your tongue. You clear your throat as you step away to dump the leaves from your skimmer.
“I’m very responsible now,” she protests, bringing a small smile to your lips despite yourself.
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, just look at me. I wake up early now, make my own breakfast—“ she pauses, glancing down at the cup in her hand before shrugging. “Well, there's some orange juice in this, anyhow.
You grin, shaking your head. “I can see I was mistaken.”
“You’re making fun of me,” she accuses.
Jackie’s still studying you, waiting impatiently for your reaction. When you don’t say anything, she lets out a quiet laugh.
“You know, if you wanted an excuse to see me so badly, you could’ve just said something. No need for the whole ‘wow, Jackie, I can’t believe you're awake’ thing.” She twirls her hair around her finger in a playful mockery, watching you over the rim of her glass.
You drag the skimmer back through the pool more aggressively than necessary as you pass by what you’ve deemed as her side of the pool, glowering down at the water. She has a way of getting you all tripped up and turned around without looking like she was even trying all that hard. It was infuriating.
“You're cute when you get all mad. Did you know that?”
“I’m not—“ You take a deep breath before releasing it with a sigh.
Jackie giggles behind you.
There was no point in trying to win when it came to Jackie. She just wouldn’t let you, stubborn to the end. You think she just might try to convince you that the sky was green if you let her go on enough. Worse yet is that you might have to “yes, dear” your way into pretending to believe her. There was just something about that self-satisfied look on her face—a smug little smile with just a hint of teeth, chin tilting upward as she preens—that makes you melt every time without fail.
You step up to the pool stairs, checking out the waterline if only to confirm what you already knew: you needed to scrub the tiles. Normally, it was something you could do by kneeling by the edge and reaching over. But it was so hot out, and some part of you is wary of spending so long bent over in front of Jackie. You dread the thought of what jokes she would make with you right in front of her. Plus, it was just embarrassing to crawl around in front of pretty girls.
Which left you with the other option of getting into the pool, and that meant having to take your shirt off lest you have to work in a wet t-shirt all day. Again, something that wasn’t usually a problem. With Jackie so intent to watch you at all times, it could become one. Whatever. You turn to look over in her direction.
Jackie’s looking right at you, glass held loosely in her hand as her mouth struggles to meet the straw. It would take less than a second for her to glance away from you to find it, but she can’t seem to bear the thought of it. Your fingers twitch at the bottom of your shirt, taking a deep breath before finally pulling it over your head. It’s not like you were indecent. The top you wore beneath it was something you wouldn’t think twice about wearing to a beach. The way Jackie coughs as she chokes on her drink makes you reconsider that assessment, but you were too far into it to quit now as you took the stairs into the pool.
Despite how committed you are to avoiding Jackie—something increasingly necessary for you to get any work done at all—as she stares at you nearly open-mouthed, you couldn’t help but revel in her attention. She was more than content to give it as you swim over to the wall, muscles in your arm flexing as you get to work scrubbing grime off the tiles.
You're facing the wrong way to see her approach, but the sound of her glass settling against the ground and the water splashing as her feet enter the pool is unavoidable. Feeling like a horror movie protagonist, you slowly look over your shoulder to find her right behind you like you were expecting.
That was, perhaps, a bit of an exaggeration. She was sitting on the edge of the pool almost directly behind you, sipping her drink as her legs kicked idly through the water. Somehow it still feels like she was breathing down your neck, even from all the way over there. Maybe it was just the intensity of her presence, unavoidable even from across the pool.
Maybe you were just gay.
It’s not exactly glamorous work, just scrubbing at the tile until your arm felt like it was going to fall off and then moving onto the next stretch of tile, but you wouldn’t be mistaken in assuming it was just based on Jackie’s eager expression as she watches behind you. Every time you dare to glance back, there she is. Still just as happy to watch, eyes focused intently as she watches without even saying anything. It might be the longest you’ve ever been in her presence without her pestering you about something.
It would be unnerving if not for the way you wanted to squirm beneath her attention.
The way you start to hesitate as you round the pool toward her feels unavoidable. Were you seriously going to be expected to scrub tile with her thighs so close to your face? She’s so completely visible in your sight line that you briefly consider closing your eyes. Only the thought of how completely that would go to her head stops you from doing it. You would be lucky to fit her ego back through the door if you did that. If you thought about it, it was really for her own good that you kept your eyes open to occasionally sneak glances at her legs.
And her stomach.
And—
You reach close enough to her that you almost brush her skin, and her sharp breath tells you that she’s just as aware as you are. There’s a moment, as you look up at her, that you consider just asking her to move her leg for you. It’s obviously what she wants. The look on her face is almost expectant, like she’s just been sitting here waiting for it. But she’s been spending so much time teasing lately that you want to get one over on her just this one time.
Also, you’re nervous as hell.
You feel something in your stomach twist at the sound of Jackie’s disappointed little whine as you move around her to start cleaning further down, but you do your best to shake it off. Stay strong’ you’ve just got to stay strong. Even if that means ignoring the scantily clad girl almost begging for your attention. Why did you think this was a good idea again?
“Where are you going?” Jackie asks suddenly. You tense, glancing back over your shoulder almost guiltily with one hand on the railing and the other wrapped around the handle of your scrub brush.
Her head is tilted to the side in some facsimile of confusion that you would almost believe to be genuine if not for the way her fingers tap excitedly against her thighs. You take a deep breath, hoping to find some strength in it. That girl was going to be the death of you.
“Oh, well, I mean…” You gesture vaguely toward the side gate. “I just need to add some more chlorine, and then I’m out of here today.”
You hope your smile looks more confident than it feels.
“You missed a spot,” she says gently, kicking her feet lightly through the water in front of her. The small waves she leaves in her wake brush up her shins, drawing your attention straight to her legs just like she intended.
“You’re uh—you’re sitting there.”
“That’s okay. I don’t mind.”
She wouldn’t, would she? You would’ve scoffed if you had it in you to be brave in this moment.
You turn around reluctantly, feeling like you just got caught doing something you shouldn’t, only to be graced with Jackie’s sharp smile with just a hint of teeth. Oh God, she could sense weakness. She was like a shark who just smelled blood in the water.
Jackie doesn’t look away the whole time you make your way over to her, the familiar trip across the pool feeling like it took years as her eyes bore into your head. You clear your throat as you settle by her legs, one hand on the concrete beside her thighs to hold yourself up in the deep end as your feet just barely brush the concrete below. She glances down slowly at your hand before meeting your eyes again.
“Well?” She asks in that soft voice of hers as you grip the handle tighter between your fingers and hesitate. You look up at her from where she’s towering over you from her position on the concrete—skipping past the temptation that was her legs crossed at the ankle right beside your shoulder.
You get to work, slowly scrubbing the tile and trying to reduce the number of times your hand brushes against the smooth wet skin of her thighs as you do. You almost want to cry every time her sun-kissed skin brushes yours, but that has nothing on the breathy little noises that leave her lips when you do. Her bottom lip is trapped between her teeth, but it does nothing to keep her quiet or to keep the last of your restraint from pulling away.
Finally, as you run out of tile to scrub that her thighs weren’t blocking, you set your brush down momentarily on the concrete beside her to tap meaningfully at her knee. If she wants to play games so badly, you could too. You weren’t fooling yourself into thinking you could beat her in them, but at the very least you could compete instead of just being the victim. It was the least she deserved after showing herself off this entire summer.
You were tired of pretending like she didn’t know what she was doing, and apparently so was she.
You don’t even see it coming until it happens, five manicured fingers cupping the back of your neck and tilting your head up, and then a pair of soft lips pressing against yours. She tasted like a mix of sunscreen and cherry chapstick, presumably the same one you’ve seen her tote around all summer. She likes to make a show of putting it on, knowing how it drags your eyes straight to her lips. They were impossibly soft as they moved against yours, just long enough for your mind to go blank until everything caught up to you.
Jackie smiles as you pull away, that brilliant gleam in her eyes slowly fading as her lips downturn at the look on your face.
“I’ve got… I’ve got to go,” you say in a rush, feeling some indescribable mix of shock and confusion that you can’t quite wrap your head around. As much flirting as she’s been doing all summer, you didn’t expect her to actually mean it. Girls like Jackie never did, did they? That had proved true again and again this summer, but there she was. You weren’t sure what it even meant, or if she meant it the same way you wanted her to.
You need to go before you say something stupid, while you still have time to think.
You bring your hand up to press against your lips in surprise as you back away, heading for the stairs without looking away from her. Jackie stands up looking panicked, so utterly distraught that it makes you sick to look at. So you don’t, tearing your eyes away as you take the stairs two at a time on your way toward the gate.
“Wait!” She calls out, just a step too far behind to stop you from reaching it. “I shouldn’t have… without asking. I’m sorry—“
But you were gone, and you didn’t even know why.
…
You shut the door of your car so quietly behind you that you're tempted to double-check that it even caught the latch, but you’re already starting to catch stray eyes from some nosy women in the house across from Jackie’s. It’s with a hint of reluctance that you wave, already knowing you’re going to catch a comment from her parents about how late you stopped by. They weren’t even home and haven’t been for days, but they were so concerned with what the neighbors thought of them that they couldn’t allow you to just stop by.
A bigger concern is what, if anything, Jackie would say to her parents when they finally got home about what happened tonight. Likely it would be nothing. You couldn’t imagine Jackie having real conversations with them as much as she complains about them. But it’s not like she would have to tell them what really happened. You’re sure she could make something up just bad enough that you’d lose out on any jobs in her neighborhood without much effort on her part.
There’s not really anything you can do about it, as frustrated as the thought makes you feel. It’s not like she’d even be out of line for doing it. You went ahead and fucked that up royally in a matter of minutes. It was a surprise, to be certain, but it probably shouldn’t have been. Jackie was a little too genuine not to mean it when she was flirting with you, much to your embarrassment.
A pretty girl had kissed you, and what had you done?
Ran.
Away.
You could’ve slapped yourself if you hadn’t already spent the majority of your day beating yourself up for the choice. It had felt so real in the moment, so utterly mortifying that you had to flee. Now you mostly just felt stupid and small.
And here you were having to crawl back at the end of your workday to put a jug of chlorine in their pool because you freaked out at the feeling of Jackie Taylor’s lips on yours. Who the fuck runs away when Jackie Taylor kisses them? You were certifiable.
You certainly feel that way as you sneak back through the back gate, lifting it up on one side to stop the gate from squeaking as you carefully shut it behind you. That lesson had been learned one too many times for you to fall victim to it now. Damn gate was always giving you away to a girl intent on preying on you. At least now you were content in the knowledge that you wouldn’t be running into her again today, not when—
She rises out of the depths like something from a movie, each step revealing more and more skin to your eager eyes. You feel guilty about even seeing it, like you should call out and let her know that you’re getting the show of a lifetime as she finishes up her swim. Water drips down toned shoulders, pooling beneath Jackie’s feet as she carefully squeezes water out of her hair as she steps out of the pool.
You stop in your tracks and just stare.
Jackie turns her head to look at you over her shoulder, expression painfully neutral as she tugs the towel up her back and wraps it under her shoulders.
“I didn't know you could swim,” you mutter stupidly at the sight of water droplets teasing their way down her skin, dripping down her thighs and making a path all the way down to her ankles that you can't help but follow with your eyes. Add in her wet hair plastered to her face, and you think you might have died and gone straight to heaven.
“You came all the way back here to say that?” She asks, rounding the edge of the pool as she finally lets herself meet your eyes head-on. Jackie's holding the towel tightly around herself, almost like armor.
There's something hopeful in her eyes as she looks at you, up until her eyes trail down and she catches sight of the jug of chlorine held loosely in your hand. Oh, she mouths, face falling as a look of embarrassment crosses it. She pulls the towel tighter.
“I uh—I forgot the chlorine earlier,” you confess in an embarrassed whisper, rubbing the back of your neck with one hand as if it could somehow save you. It just makes you feel all that much more ridiculous. Nothing could save you from Jackie’s wrath if she was feeling like acting on it.
“When you ran away without a word?”
“…Yeah. Then.”
The silence stretches on for what feels like ages, Jackie just watching you with something on her face a little thoughtful, before her face softens and she waves toward the pool. It’s not as dismissive as it could be, but it’s also not all that inviting. She’s closed a part of herself off as she holds onto the towel, and you can’t say that you blame her for it.
You watch her back as you move around the pool, carefully finishing up. She doesn’t seem to mind your attention, even when most people would. There’s something about her that makes her look so much smaller than she usually seems. Maybe it’s the lack of that smug confidence that usually makes her seem larger than life, but it’s unsettling to say the least. There are none of the teasing remarks that would usually accompany you doing something so blatant, not even a single comment.
“I’m sorry,” you say finally, not able to take the silence any longer.
Her eyes narrow, head tilting to the side in an expression of confusion. Always so expressive, that one.
“What are you sorry for?”
“Earlier. I shouldn’t have run off like that.”
“I shouldn’t have kissed you. I just thought that…”
“You weren’t wrong,” you admit.
“Then why did you leave?”
She sounds frustrated now, but that familiar pep has already started to re-enter her step. Her hold on the towel is already starting to loosen, making it just a little more difficult to hold onto your train of thought. But didn’t she always?
“I freaked.”
“No kidding,” Jackie says, unimpressed and not shy of showing it. God, you were already stumbling over yourself.
“I didn’t think you ever meant it when you were, y’know. I mean, you’re,” you pause to gesture to the whole of her with your hand. “You.”
“Your story is that you were so pleased that I kissed you that you just had to run away? I’ve got to say, I'm not a fan of those reflexes.”
“It was the only thing I could think of.”
“How reassuring,” she says dryly.
“If it helps, I regretted it almost immediately.”
“Did you?” The towel slips out of her hands onto a chair as she shrugs out of it. “Did you think about it all day?”
“Yeah,” you sigh, eyes widening as she stalks closer.
“You’re an idiot.”
“Yeah.” You nod.
“Well,” she says finally, “I am, like, a great kisser. I’d probably run off too if I kissed me.”
“Humble,” you tease, trying to feign some sense of dignity. It all but fled you at the sight of her before you, so close that you could reach out and touch her. The thought of resting your hands on your hips, fingers pressing into soft skin as you pull her forward is all-consuming.
Jackie hums. “Aren’t I just?”
Before you can even think of something to say, feeling like anything you could come up with would be useless, Jackie steps toward you and any words you could’ve fumbled your way through dry up in your throat.
“I’m going to kiss you again,” she declares evenly, settling her arms around your shoulders.
“Okay,” you mumble, hands settling on her hips like they belong there. Jackie certainly seems to like it, eyes flicking down briefly to land on your hands before meeting your eyes again.
“If you run off again,” she says in a whisper, her lips so close you could feel them brushing against your skin. “I’ll tell everyone that you tried to kiss me but got so flustered you fell right into the pool. Splash.”
“That didn’t happen.”
“They’ll believe me.”
“Blackmail, Jackie?”
“I prefer to think of it as a form of persuasion. Sounds nicer that way, don’t you think?”
“Oh, you’re evil,” you murmur, charmed despite yourself.
“Maybe, but I'll tell everyone. Shauna, your friends, Lottie. I might even call up your parents.”
Lottie? Why would she even know about… Oh, shit. That damn soccer team.
You laugh, feeling less confident than you appear. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me,” she says with a grin, her eyes shining with mirth. “I just think you need a little incentive.
Both because you're lacking a quip and because you hope it’ll throw Jackie off her game, you lean forward and close the distance between the two of you yourself. Jackie squeaks in surprise, nails digging into your neck as her fingers flex before she catches herself. There’s a moment where it feels like you're kissing a brick wall before Jackie responds, meeting you beat for beat as she practically glues herself to your front.
You lost track of the amount of time you spent like that, wrapped up in her and pulling away just far enough to breathe before she’s right back on you. She’s so incredibly eager that it makes your head spin, and you know you must look about the same. It’s hard not to, not when you’re so caught up in her orbit that you can’t even think of ever leaving. Where else would you even go?
Jackie doesn’t seem to have the same constraints, pulling away just enough to have you chasing after her lips step for step as she backs up. Stupidly, it reminds you of chasing after a pie in a cartoon—you could be floating after her for all you care, as long as it got you closer. Almost as if she could sense your thoughts, Jackie giggles, rewarding you with another kiss as she stops.
“Inside?” You ask finally, dragging yourself away from her lips regretfully as you skim your hands up her sides.
“Mm, no,” she sighs.
“N-no?” You start to pull away, but Jackie doesn’t let you.
Deliberate fingers wrap around your wrists, leading your hands all the way up her sides to cup her breasts through her damp top. No one has to tell you twice. Your fingers flex instinctively as you start to give them some attention, thumbs brushing along the curve of her breasts that quickly become deliberate. She presses into the touch with a quiet sound that would’ve earned your devotion if she hadn’t already had it.
“We're not getting pool on my bed,” she protests through kiss-swollen lips, making the subsequent pout all that more devastating.
You sigh, not bothering to argue as you move her back. Jackie lets you back her up without a fight, a little too trusting that you aren't about to push her in the pool. She glances back only as the back of her knees meets her favorite lounger, a pleased look crossing her face as she sits back.
The look only grows as you slip to your knees in front of her, shifting to get comfortable on the concrete below you. You tug at the string to her bikini, slowly pulling it down her thighs. Jackie scoots down without a word as you lift one leg over your shoulder, planting her other leg on the pavement beside the chair.
There’s a thought of voicing a complaint as the uneven concrete digs painfully into your knees, but it leaves you at the sight of her bare before you. There could be glass beneath you, and you aren’t positive it would even register right now.
You press your lips against the side of her knee, tasting the chlorine still clinging to her damp skin as you kiss your way up her toned thigh. Her muscles flex involuntarily beneath the touch, a pleasant feeling that has you spending longer than strictly necessary there before reaching her cunt. Jackie lets her displeasure be known with a tug of your hair as her heel presses into your back.
It only digs in more as you run your tongue along the length of her, firmly keeping you in place between her legs as she tosses her head back. As if you would be going anywhere with Jackie spread out in front of you like some kind of offering. You wouldn’t leave even if her house was burning down in front of you.
“Fuck,” Jackie whines, throwing the arm not buried in your hair over her eyes to shield herself from the sun.
God forbid the sun shine in her eyes while you're eating her out.
“You’re so—“ She cuts herself off as your tongue presses somewhere sensitive, shifting beneath you as her fingers curl in your hair. A warning and a plea all at once, wrapped up into a single buck of her hips.
You settle in, grabbing her hips tighter to hold her steady beneath you as you drag your tongue where she wants you most in deliberate little strokes that have her thighs trembling in response. You could do this for hours, giving her every last thing she wants if only to earn those bitten-off moans as she tries and fails to keep her quiet. If only she had let you take her inside where she could be as loud as she wants, echoing off the walls if she so desires.
But there’s no rush. Not when she’s so wet and wanting.
Jackie shifts again, an impatient noise leaving her lips that has you bracing for another demand only for her to mumble, almost to herself, “Where did I put my sunglasses?”
Disbelief floods through you so strongly that you still for a moment, drawing a quick complaint from Jackie that turns into a relieved noise as it gives her enough brainpower to find where she’d knocked her sunglasses off the side table.
She reaches out with her newly freed hand to grab at the one settled across her hips, tangling your fingers together and squeezing tightly. Any lingering irritation vanishes at the realization of why exactly she needed her hand to be free. You squeeze back after shifting your grip to accommodate her.
“Please,” she murmurs, hips moving to meet you in greedy little circles as you lap at her clit. Her hand on the back of your head holds you right where she wants you as she moves, bracing her foot on the ground for leverage so she can chase every flick of your tongue.
You couldn't hold her down if you tried, not with how soaked she still was, but you're more than okay with letting her do whatever she wants as long as it ends with her falling apart on your tongue. You weren't picky when it came to the how.
Your name slips through her lips, soft and desperate, and it sounds like coming home.
A girl could grow addicted to this.
…
“Thirsty?” Jackie asks, sitting down at the edge of the pool with a glass of water in hand. You smirk at the sight of her, specifically at the sight of the yellowing marks you’d left on her thighs. The memory of her little gasps, the way her thighs trembled, her hands tangled in your hair—it was enough to pull you away from any task.
“I could be.”
She lifts the glass pointedly, tapping her fingers along the rim as she gives you a knowing look. You push off the wall, away from the ladder you’ve been scrubbing. It makes you feel like a dog coming when called, but there were far worse things to be. Like someone who didn’t get to go down on Jackie Taylor.
That’s how you were separating your life now: before Jackie and after.
Her smile is so sweet that water could melt it, thighs spreading just enough for you to stand between them as you look up at her. You rest your hands on the concrete beside her, grinning at the way the splash makes her grimace as the water drops pool beneath your hand and make its way to where she’s sitting.
“Hey,” she greets, just shy enough that you want to take her cheeks between your palms and squish her face.
You reach up to grab the glass, only for her to pull it away before you can reach it.
“Hey—“ you protest, but she’s having none of it. She presses a finger to your lips, giggling when you press a wet kiss against her fingertip.
“Shush. Here.”
She lowers the glass down to your lips, watching you closely until you part your lips and let her slowly pour it. Jackie cups the side of your face with one hand as she tilts the glass all the way up, rubbing her thumb across your cheek as she pulls the glass away.
“Better?”
“Almost.” You trail your hand up one of her warm thighs, leaving little rivulets of pool water in your wake. Her eyes lock onto your hand, shifting to press her thigh further into your hand.
“You looked too warm in here,” she says distractedly, gasping breathily when you push your thumb into one of the bruises you’d left.
“You look hot up there.”
“Mm, well…” Jackie shrugs in acknowledgment, scooting forward so she can slide her way down the wall and into your arms.
You hold on to her thighs to steady her as her legs wrap around your hips, her arms curling around your shoulders as she leans in for a kiss that you happily give. Jackie lets out a pleased hum as she pulls away, peppering kisses along the curve of your jaw.
“I thought you had plans today,” you murmur distractedly, squeezing Jackie's hip before sliding around to cup her ass.
“It's–it's your fault,” Jackie accuses.
“Yeah?”
“How was I supposed to go? I can't wear my bikini anywhere because of you and your stupid mouth. I had to pretend I was sick.”
“Oh, anything but that,” you tease, eyes trailing down to her chest just where her breast meets the fabric of her top. She had other bikinis, of course, but this one was her favorite. Still, you hadn't heard her complaining when you had her skin in your mouth in the first place.
“You should make it up to me.”
“Should I?”
“Don't be mean.“
“Am I so mean to you?”
“The worst,” she confirms, her lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck as she speaks. It’s less of an accusation and more of an invitation to make it up to her. You can’t say that you feel particularly guilty about it, but you’ll take the opportunity to have her any time she offers.
Jackie squeals in delight as you lift her higher, the water making the move feel almost effortless as her thighs wrap around your sides. It turns into a moan as your hands trail up her back, fingertips tracing the tie of her bikini top. She barely has time to register it before you pluck the string loose, letting it fall below her breasts before you duck your head to bury your face between them.
Jackie’s breath hitches, her back arching up off the concrete behind her to offer more of herself up to your mouth. She grabs at the back of your head to keep you right where she wants you. Right now, that’s mouthing at her nipple as her nails scratch at your scalp.
“Yeah,” she murmurs, hips rolling against your stomach in slow, thoughtless circles as she chases her pleasure. One thing you’ve learned about Jackie is how damn impatient she is, but her whiny little moans do more to make up for it than anything she could’ve said. Not, of course, that you care with the way her abs flex with each and every roll of her hips.
“Feels good?” You ask, glancing at her spit-slicked chest briefly as you move to mouth at the other. The faint taste of chlorine fills your mouth as your tongue flicks across her nipple. It’s an unpleasant taste, all things considered, but not enough to pull you away from the warmth of her skin.
“Don’t sound so—so smug.”
You roll your eyes, slipping your hand between your bodies to cup her through her bottoms. She gasps at the touch, your hand almost cold compared to the warmth of the water.
Jackie tenses as your palm brushes against her, rolling her hips as you give her something firmer to grind against. The whine that escapes her is almost inaudible over the rippling of the water with each and every shift of your limbs, but you’re far too focused on her to miss it. You nip at the curve of her breast, too pleased with yourself to resist leaving a matching hickey as you suck a mark into her skin.
You’ve seen how she looks by the poolside, and the longer you can keep her away from showing off—just existing in a bikini around others—the better. Plus, she makes the prettiest little sounds when you press on the bruises you’ve left behind.
She lets go of your shoulder just long enough to pull the strings of her bottoms herself, impatiently tugging the fabric away so that you can touch her bare.
Impatient today, as always. You tell her as much, a smug grin pulling at the corner of your lips as you tear your mouth away from her chest. A sacrifice, if you were being honest.
“Shut up and touch me,” Jackie mutters, a hint of a plea entering her voice as her nails dig into your shoulders. She tips her head back against the concrete ledge of the pool behind her, her hips rolling lazily against your hand. You don’t make her wait.
You feel around briefly, happy to give her what she wants as you press a finger inside.
“Mm,” Jackie murmurs breathlessly as you curl your finger, slipping in a second finger on an outstroke that has her searching out the friction of your palm once again. The muscles in her thighs tense, flexing pleasantly beneath your palm as you hold her close.
She slides her hand up your shoulders, cupping the back of your neck as she tilts your head up to meet her as she leans in. It’s messy and broken, desperately trying to get closer while mostly succeeding in breathing in your air—less of a kiss and more of occasionally remembering to press your lips together in between moans. It’s the perfect way to spend your afternoon as your hand works steadily between tanned thighs to coax out all those little sounds.
Jackie melts into you, all limp and pliable, and you have to back her up further against the wall to keep her where you want her. Her lips part around stuttering gasps, clenching hard around your fingers as you curl them just right. She lazily chases your palm with slow, rolling hips. More instinctual than any real attempt to help you get her off, seemingly happy to take what you give her.
You’re sure that would change in a second if you stopped giving her exactly what she wanted–she’s not exactly one to suffer in silence–but you didn’t feel like denying her anything at this moment.
When she comes, it’s not with the loud cry you’d grown accustomed to, but with a shocked little gasp as if she couldn’t believe she was coming this quick either. There’s something almost like disappointment on her face as she comes down, like she can’t decide whether or not she regrets how fast she fell apart for you.
You can’t have that, not when she went through the trouble of wearing your favorite of her bikinis. If she’s going to go through the effort of teasing you, the least you could do is leave her wrung out and spent.
“I'm not–” Jackie trails into a soft moan as you pull your hand away. “I'm not convinced I should forgive you.”
“Is that right?”
She nods. You trail your fingers up her arms, pulling them away from where they were wrapped around your shoulders and leading them up to the concrete.
“Up,” you murmur against her lips, giving her one last kiss as you grab at her thighs.
She slowly unravels her legs from your hips, pulling herself up the side of the pool to sit on the concrete as you help her up. There's a look of confusion that turns into delight when she realizes where the position puts your mouth, a happy little hum leaving her lips as she shifts to spread her legs wider.
Jackie sighs at the little kisses you press against the inside of her thighs, letting herself be led back to lie against the concrete as you throw an arm over jerking hips and make your way up between her legs.
A small, impatient whine leaves her lips as you take a second to nip at the mark you left on her inner thigh, taking a moment to worry the flesh between your teeth until it looks brand new again.
“See? Mean,” she says smugly, fingers twitching uselessly on the concrete before she leads them up to tug at wet hair expectantly.
“Maybe I should stop, then,” you murmur against her thigh, dragging your tongue across a trail of water dripping down her skin as you follow it up and up until her hips jerk beneath the weight of your arm.
There’s something about the way she looks right now, sun-kissed skin splayed out across the poolside as muscles tense beneath your touch, that has you giving in immediately to her wordless demands as you press yourself fully against the concrete wall to take her into your mouth.
Her back arches off the concrete, a whimper forced from her lips as you force her back down with a hand stretched across her stomach. Thighs twitch beneath your palm, instinctively trying to press together, but your hand is already there to pull them apart. As much as you enjoy the feeling of her thighs pressing against your ears, it was a little too early to have to work with that little room.
“You’re such a–” Jackie starts, but anything she could have said is lost in the ensuing whine as your tongue flicks across damp skin.
You love watching her like this: torn between warring instincts of needing your attention and still being sensitive enough that she struggles to take it. Love the way her thighs twitch, the way the muscles in her stomach tense beneath your palm, the little sounds she makes under her breath as she tries to force herself quiet. Always so aware of the potential of an unwanted audience. If you spend enough time here, braced between her thighs as your tongue works its magic, she’ll forget where you’ve got her on her back and get loud enough that you’re sure someone must hear it.
But that’s a problem for a later you.
“Inside,” she demands, shifting on the concrete to make more room for you. Like she could take more of you that way.
You end up doing this awkward little dance as you figure out how to get your fingers where she wants while still holding yourself up on the side, but it’s all worth it to hear the way the air sounds punched from her lungs as you sink two fingers inside without warning.
“Fuck.” Her voice is wrecked, making something in your stomach twist as you move up to her clit. Between that and the steady curl of your fingers, Jackie becomes a desperate little thing in what feels like no time at all.
The way she reacts is so intoxicating, so completely at your mercy and eager for more. You keep the pressure steady as restless hands grab and pull at you anywhere she can reach, and it doesn’t leave her with much to work with. She mostly just settles for pulling at your hair and crossing her ankles behind your back, which seems effective enough to settle her out as she chases the feeling.
You can tell from the way her thighs start to tremble something fierce that she’s reaching the edge long before that final desperate cry leaves her lips as she tumbles right over it. She’s tense, every muscle in her body seeming to seize at once. So tense that you rub absently at the muscles in her thigh as you work her down until she collapses bonelessly back against the concrete. Her thighs tremble against your shoulders, almost shaking you with the intensity of it as her hips twitch absently.
Jackie seems dazed as she stares up at the sky, blinking pathetically when you remind her not to look at the sun before she nods absently and closes her eyes. Still breathing heavily as a lazy grin takes root on her face.
it's so fun for me every time this appears on my dash because not only did i walk past it irl several times, it's on what is widely considered the busiest bus route in europe
a/n :: first fallout fic!
warnings :: none, maybe ooc lucy? idt so ... sapphic ofc!!!
you meet lucy maclean on a day that smells like dust and old sunlight.
everything in the wasteland smells a little wrong, but she doesn’t. she smells like clean soap, and that in itself was different. when she smiles at you, it feels like someone opened a vault door inside your chest and forgot to close it.
“hi,” she says, bright and careful, like the word matters.
like you matter.
you’re not used to that.
people out here usually look at you the way they look at broken machines. useful, maybe. replaceable, definitely. but lucy looks at you like she’s reading something important written across your face, something she wants to understand.
it makes you nervous.
it makes you stay.
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
traveling with her is… strange.
she still believes in things. real, solid beliefs, the kind that don’t bend just because the world ended. she says please when asking for water. she says thank you even when someone points a gun at her first. she talks about kindness like human decency is still a thing.
you keep waiting for the wasteland to take that from her.
it hasn’t.
not yet.
sometimes, when she laughs, you feel something sharp and aching in your ribs. hope, maybe. or grief for the version of you that used to sound like that.
you don’t tell her.
but she notices everything.
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
one night, the sky is clear enough to see stars instead of smoke.
you sit beside a dying fire, knees pulled close, listening to the quiet stretch across the empty land. lucy hums softly to herself, some vault tune that sounds too gentle for a world like this.
“do you ever think,” she says, “that maybe things could be… good again?”
you almost laugh. not because it’s funny. because it hurts
“no,” you answer honestly.
she nods like she expected that. like she isn’t disappointed in you for it.
then she scoots a little closer anyway.
your shoulders brush. just barely.
she doesn’t move away.
neither do you.
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
lucy’s hand finds yours by accident.
at least, you think it’s an accident.
her fingers are warm. steady. not grabbing, not demanding. just there, resting against your palm.
you could pull away.
instead, you let your fingers curl around hers.
the silence changes. becomes something quieter. Safer.
she exhales, small and relieved.
you pretend not to notice how tightly she holds on after that.
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
days pass.
roads blur.
danger comes and goes like weather.
through all of it, lucy keeps choosing you.
she shares the last clean water. saves you the better half of whatever food you manage to find. checks your injuries before her own. says your name like it’s something precious she’s afraid to drop.
no one has ever chosen you like that before.
it scares you more than the wasteland ever could.
because if she stops–
if she gets hurt–
if this fragile, impossible thing breaks–
you’re not sure you’d survive it a second time.
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
it happens slowly, the way most important do now.
one evening, she’s talking about nothing in particular, words drifting warm and easy in the air between you. you’re only half listening, watching the way firelight catches in her eyes.
she notices you staring.
“what?” she asks, smiling.
you don’t mean to say it.
you really don’t.
“you make this place feel less awful.”
the words sound too small once they’re out. too honest. you wait for her to laugh, or look away, or pretend she didn’t hear.
i hate the part of depression that’s like all the things that bring me joy are empty and i can’t do anything. like come on bitch i know you love book can you just be happy about book :/
You sound like you’ve never had the scent of cigarette smoke ingrained in your clothes to the point where people in middle school thought you smoked at eleven because your parents couldn’t be bothered to go outside. You sound like you’ve never had your mother flick cigarette ashes out of the car window and have them fly into your face. You sound like you’ve never been kept up at night by the sound of your dad hacking up a lung because he has to get up for his midnight smoke. You sound like you’ve never had to run into a convenience store to get your mother cigarettes as soon as you turned eighteen and cringed at touching the box because you know they’re not only killers but government sanctioned killers because they can not only tax the shit out of them but ensure people buy more at the cost of young lungs and a once beautiful home now plagued with the smell of smoke and ash. You sound like you’ve never had a great grandmother who stopped smoking 30 years before her death who still got lung cancer and subsequently died. You sound like a Fucking ignoramus. Smoking isn’t Fucking cool, it isn’t fun to glorify, it’s disgusting and makes not only you but your children smell bad. Makes not only you but your children cough, get cancer, get sick.
You sound like a Fucking moron. Smoking isn’t cool. Grow the Fuck up.
1. bowl, egypt 200-150 b.c 2. bowl depicting man holding cup and flowering branch, iraq, 10th century 3. bowl with fish motif, Peru, Paracas culture, 650-100 BCE 4. bowl with eagle, Egypt, ca. 1000 5. bowl, egypt, ca. 1295-1185B.C 6. gold libation bowl, greece, 4th-3rd century BCE 7. glass bowl, roman, 1st century AD 8. bowl, Peru, Paracas culture, 5th-4th century BCE 9. blue marsh bowl, egypt, ca. 1550-1458
snowghoul
titsay
yousharknotpass
germansingergirl
discoholicmusic
gummygunk
turnnoffyourmind
kaledo-art
