#i though that Styles had signed on to be in this?
krystiesees · 3 days
What is this pain trying to teach you?
Disclaimer: This is a general reading so not everything will resonate with you, word-by-word. Do not try and fit messages into places they don't belong and just take what genuinely resonates. Thank you so much.
Pick a Picture
1-> 2-> 3
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Pile 1
Cards: II of Pentacles, The Sun Reversed, The Empress Reversed, IV of Swords
Signs: Gemini, Taurus, Libra (Sun, Moon, Rising)
Your soul is in dire need of comfort, Pile 1. There's a lot that you've been enduring. There's a lot that has been hurting you. I can feel an overload of emotions, fears, anxieties, some of you are even depressed. For some of you it's your financial state that's pushing you to the edge for others it's family or career pressure. You feel overwhelmed. You can't take it anymore. It's like, you feel tired. You've had enough. You can't keep going. I see you like a treasure hunter. The more you keep digging the under ground, the farther the treasure seems. But it's not like that. Sometimes we're not the best judge of the situation we're in. Sometimes it's beyond our comprehension as to where the treasure really is and when will we find it. "How much more do I have to suffer?" If you may ask. I'm here to tell you that this pain that you're feeling right now is only there to teach you balance. The balance between the good and bad. The balance between being happy and sad. Sage is the one who wins over his/her emotions. Who are you, though? What is your identity? You were made in the image of God. You're not this body nor the name. Detach yourself from your worldly identity from time to time. It's okay to be still and unproductive sometimes. It doesn't define your worth. Embrace your higher self and its power. Have faith in the unknown. Your God knows better. Do some grounding. Meditate and practice gratitude. Indifference to your fears is the key to defeat it. Try to balance your emotions. Adapt an impartial lookout towards your life and your miseries. Be bold enough to know it's all just a phase and it shall pass.
Pile 2
Cards: Knight of Pentacles Reversed, The Hanged Man, VIII of Cups Reversed, King of Wands
Signs: Dominant Mercury placement, Virgo, Gemini, Cancer (Sun, Moon, Rising)
Are you a perfectionist, Pile 2? You're way too hard on yourself. You pay attention to the details and criticize yourself over the tiniest of mistakes? Creative block drains you. You feel lost when it hits. Your life seems like it has no purpose? If this is not you, this pile is not for you. Check another pile maybe.
So, in my humble opinion, perfectionism is an enemy of creativity. Believe it or not. Art is not perfect, it never is. Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. The pain you're going through right now, Pile 2, is there to teach you just that. Stop getting too much into the details and being hard on yourself. Instead start to embrace the bigger picture and what pros it comes with. No matter how hard you may be on yourself. No matter how much you may criticize yourself, there's always at least one person, sometimes many, who see what you're capable of. And they love you for that. Everyone is different and so are there ways and styles of doing things. Don't try to fit yourself into the moulds of others. Make your own mold instead. Do your thing no matter how bad you think you are. You may not be perfect but you'll only get better at it with proper practice and discipline. You are unique and loved for that. You better come in terms with this fact. You're meant of all the praises and love. Trust the divine and put it out there. No matter what is it that you create. Imposter syndrome is hard to deal with, but it can be dealt with. You do have fans. There are people who love you and they will never back off from encouraging you and pushing you to shine. Cause they see that you're meant to shine.
Pile 3
Cards: II of Cups, VII of Wands, The Emperor, IV of Cups
Signs: 12th House Stellium, Pisces, Scorpio, Capricorn, Taurus, Aquarius (Sun, Moon, Rising)
Are you into the mysterious, esoteric, witchcraft and stuff like that, Pile 3? Or maybe something else that is too taboo in the society? Some of ya'll may be my LGBTQIA+ friends here as well. I am getting these vibes very strong from this pile. And if that's not you, pick a different pile as this one may not be for you.
You've been the self righteous one all your life. The conformist. The good girl/boy. Momma's boy/girl. The one who never swam against the tide. The one who always complied to what the society expectef of them. And you did it all, just to maintain that peace and harmony in your relationships. And you've been doing it all with pride. Though there are times like this when you question your morals. When you feel like a rebel. You start to question what if I was the exact opposite of who I am. Because genuinely, the person you are and the person you portray are two different individuals. They're not the same. And your morals are entirely different from what society and people taught you to accept. And there are certain situations where we have no options but to pick one. What morals do I choose to pick for me? Which of my identities I choose to pick as the real me? You struggle standing your ground because everyone else has been invalidating your true beliefs and morals. But you're not someone with a weak determination and conscience. You know you're not wrong.
You regret being a conformist from the start. You regret putting up that facade for so long that you can't get out of this strong web of truth and falsehood. This pain is here to teach you that you're not wrong. You were born with this rebellion in you. You were meant to question the unquestionable. One way or another, you were meant to rebel against it all. And that you may mourn for a while or so. And it's fine to cry. But you're gifted with innate knowledge and wisdom. You're born to lead. You're born to bring revolutions. Don't give up at the face of adversary. You're gonna start alone on this path but do not fear it. You're gonna meet your kind along the way. The things that don't make sense to you, genuinely do not make any sense. People stop you from being you. They call you naive, dumb, immature, deviant and what not. But it's because they fear you. It's because they fear your purity. You who love the unknown while they fear it. You know that you're supported by the divine while all the do is fear the divine. I mean they do burn all the witches even if you aren't one. And we all know why they do that.
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Thank you so much for your time. I hope it resonates! 💞✨
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thegifstories · 2 days
|Neighborly Vibe|
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There was something about crowded spaces that unnerved him. It was to be expected after being confined for more than half of his adult life in a cage. People mulled about everywhere in the building meant to provide governmental services. He was here to get an ID, something he would need in order to get back in the ring but at this very moment all he wanted was to turn right back around. His feet were turning to do so when a familiar face saddled up beside him. Wearing translucent frames on top of her pierced button nose and her long braids tied back into a half up/ half down style, was the woman who he saw often in his neighborhood when he went for his early morning runs. She was always out too, running with brass knuckles visible so that anyone who wanted to mess with her thought otherwise. Before him now, she was dressed in a jeans that seemed twice her size and a white button down shirt that was tucked in with a checkered vest on top. He tried his best to keep his glance brief but knew that he failed when his eyes met the smirk that rested on her lips.
“You live in my neighborhood,” she stated, grabbing a form to fill out. Written in bubbly letters was her name Brianna James. “I figured sitting next to you might be less annoying than having some other loser try to spit game at me. Not calling you a loser though.”
“I uh appreciate that and yeah, I do, live in the neighborhood that is,” he said, scanning the table and grabbing the form he would need. “Is there a time that this place doesn���t look like this? I’m not a fan of sitting next to others period.”
“If you come as soon as the doors open, it’s possible to be in and out. You’re always up early anyway so it won’t be a stretch for you,” she replied, not bothering to look up at him again as she continued to scribble across the page. 
There it was. The easy way out he was looking for. He could head back to the gym, get in another session before heading back home but when he left things were tense. Best to return tomorrow when cooler heads prevailed. Mainly his. 
He shrugged, “True but fuck it, I’m here now right?”
“Exactly. No time like the present and all that,” she said, readjusting her purse on her shoulder. 
“I noticed your name when you wrote it, I’m Dame though,” he said, sticking out his hand. 
Brianna grabbed it and almost gasped from how rough his callouses were. The men she normally entertained barely knew a day of hard work. They were all college bred, corporate types, that were used to coasting through life. She could tell by Dame’s hands alone that was not his story. 
“Nice to meet you Dame, the name is Brianna but most people call me Bri,” she said. 
“Then I think I’ll call you Brianna because I’m not most people,” he said, causing her to roll her eyes.
“If I had a dime for every time I’ve heard that then I’d have enough money to take you and most people to Dubai all expenses paid,” she said.
“Maybe so. I can’t really call it but I know myself, I know who I am and what most people aren’t,” he said, finishing up his form.
“And what’s that?” she asked.
The answer wasn’t given with flare, exuberance, or arrogance. It was delivered with the sure confidence he always had in himself and he could tell by the way she batted her eyes in the other direction that she received it as such. 
“I haven’t done this since I was a teen. Where do we go after filling these out?” he asked, holding up his finished form. 
“Did you go to the kiosk to get a ticket?” she asked. 
“The what?” he asked, confusion marring his features. 
It clicked for her then. The dingy clothes on a seemingly young man, the way his eyes constantly darted around, the lack of knowledge about technology. All the signs that he had recently returned to society. Having multiple family members go through the same thing, she knew what to do without making him feel embarrassed.
“Come, I’ll show you,” she said, taking him by the shoulder to lead him back towards the front. 
In the entryway, against the wall, were ten kiosks lined up. She walked him through how to find the service he was looking for and explained that now that he had a ticket, he had to keep an eye out for his number on the screens above in the waiting area. When his number was up and called out, he would go to the line it showed next to his number and hand over his form as well as any other necessary documents.  Now they sat side by side in one of the wooden rows.
“Thanks for walking me through this in a way I can actually understand,” he said, after jotting down what she said in the back of his workout notebook. The last few pages were dedicated with tips and information for him to navigate this new world. 
“No problem at all. I’m a teacher so if I can’t explain things then I got in the wrong profession,” she jokes. 
“Oh for real? What do you teach?” he asks, stuffing the notebook back inside of the duffle bag he carried. 
“I teach the third grade at Conell Elementary in our neighborhood,” she replied.
“The babies, third grade, that’s a good age. Do they give you much trouble?” he asked.
“Only as much as expected for their age but no, not really. I have a good bunch,” she smiles with pride.
“A teacher, that makes sense,” he said, nodding his head. “You give off the vibe that you’re real smart and proper, like you know you’re standards for life and won’t deviate.”
“I won’t and that makes life more peaceful I think. No one should compromise on their beliefs or dreams,” she said, unknowingly speaking to his soul. That’s exactly how he felt. 
“I agree. I’m like that with my dream. I have one true shot at it, so that’s what I’m giving all my time to at the moment,” he said, meeting her gaze.
His dreams had been snatched away from him and put far out of reach years ago. Now that he was free, he was going to hold onto them tightly until they became reality no matter the cost.
“As you should Dame, as you should,” she replied.
From there their conversation came easily than he thought it might. Once he realized she was a cool person he felt like he could be himself. The guy that liked to make others laugh and learn everything he could about the people he was around. There was no need for the angrier alter ego to be on alert anymore. He found a reason to ground himself into the moment which made being at the DMV less overwhelming. They fell into easy conversation about her students, how many miles they each ran in the morning, and the latest music she thought he should hear. Without getting too personal, they started what seemed to be a promising friendship.
All in all, it took close to two hours for their numbers to be called. Brianna was nice enough to wait another thirty minutes for his number to be called and assisted him with the touch screen pad he had to use to further input information once he was called. When they were done, they stopped at the local pizza shop on their way home, picking up two slices each to devour as they walked. 
“Well this is me, I head down King street,” she said, nodding her head to the right.
He nods his head, respecting the boundary she drew. It was too soon for him to know exactly where she lived and he respected that. “I’m over on Princeton. I don’t have a phone to make sure but I hope you get home safe.”
“Thanks Dame, same to you. I leave the house at five to run. If you want a partner, meet me on Conell Ave, in front of the school by five ten,” she said, already starting to back away from him.
“Aight, cool, I’ll be there.”
“Okay, see you tomorrow.”
With a wave, she turned around and continued on down the block. He kept watching her, when she looked over her shoulder to see if he was, he sent her a small smile which caused her to grin. When she was no longer in sight, he kept straight, thinking about how his day had turned completely around. 
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ . ���⁺   . ✦
Sweat clung to both of their skin as they watched the sun rise. He stood upright, while she gasped holding onto her knees. After their run, he challenged her into a light HITT workout using their body weight that had given her endurance a rude wake up call. 
“How are your lungs not dead right now?” she said, finally standing up, hands clutching her hips. This morning she wore bright lime green leggings with a black Nike hoodie. The lime color looked good against her skin drawing his attention to the hips that protruded in a way meant to gain attention. 
“I workout for a living Brianna,” he chuckled, “This isn’t the kind of workout to have my lungs beating out my chest.”
“I’m very interested to know what kind of workout’s that can have you winded. You’re built like a NFL player,” she said, redoing her ponytail that had come loose during the three rounds of minute burpees. 
“Boxing drills mostly. Hands are so sore sometimes all I can do is go to sleep to escape the pain,” he said. 
“Oh hell no,” she giggled, “That does not sound like fun.”
“It’s not, not really but it’s the only thing that I’m good at,” he said with a small shrug.
“Nah, I don’t believe that. I get that same smart vibe from you Dame,” she said, as she looked out, the sun was finally starting to rise, it’s rays gliding over and warming their brown tones. 
“Smart doesn’t necessarily mean talented or gifted. I’m good with my hands, I like to think I’m a good friend but other than that...” he trailed off, tearing his eyes from the sunrise to look over at her. “I’m a simple man.”
She met his gaze, seeing all that he could not say, swirling in the whiskey colored orbs. There was a complexity to this man. One she could not shy away from all though something deep down told her she should. He opened to her, allowing her to get her fill and take whatever she needed for the conclusions she needed to draw. This thing brewing between them was more than her neighborly efforts the day before. This thing had the promise to be potent. 
“No Dame Anderson, you are anything but,” she chuckles softly.
He takes a step closer to her. If he’s read her like she’s read him, he thinks this won’t be over stepping. “Does that scare you?”
“I don’t know you well enough to answer that. So you tell me, should it?” she said, taking a step closer to him. 
One thing he was never known to be was a liar. It wasn’t in his blood. He told the truth no matter the implications after it was out. However, in this case, he was not sure what the truth was. He often doubted his own morality. 
Nodding her head, she said, “That’s duly noted sir. Good thing for you I don’t scare easy.”
At that, he had to smile. Her personality was refreshing and made him want to let it wash over him much like the sunlight currently was. 
“Neither do I Brianna. Neither do I.”
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lis-likes-fics · 3 days
Sweet as Sugar
Pairings: Agent Whiskey x Reader Word Count: 11.3k Warnings: NSFW, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pining, cunnilingus, blowjob, slight dirty talk, slight praise kink, cowboy rule, swearing (this is basic smut, I think), Whiskey’s a little confused but he’s got the spirit... A/N: I have a writer’s block toward the end of writing this, so what should have only take about a week took, like, a month. Hopefully, I’m back to writing again but I will make no promises bc it’s too gloomy outside for any good serotonin boost to write with. Thank you and enjoy this peace offering bc Pedro Pascal had found a way into my brain!
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The mall was bustling with people, men and women coming and going, passing through to look at all the booths and tables showing off all the different organizations to one another as the convention continued on through the day. It was not just any convention, either. Secret services from all over the world, interconnected and soon-to-be, gathered that day to listen and learn and hopefully form closer partnerships to other companies. The entire building was rented out for this function.
Agents continued to pass by the big booth decorated with rhinestones and flowers, which advocated an elegant simplicity to represent the business they ran. Displayed on either side of the booth were two dresses: one a simple, yet fashionable wedding dress with intricate detailing sewed into every stitch, the other, a woman’s business suit with a flower pin carved from what looked like sapphires. Along the table were pieces of jewelry—watches, bracelets, rings, necklaces, just samples of what the company had to offer—and pamphlets of what exactly it was the business they were running.
And displayed proudly on the sign over their booth was a symbol, a renaissance style ‘Q’ that twisted and curved in classic cursive.
You sighed as you ran your hands along the sleeves of your blazer, your fingers grazing the cufflink on your wrist that matched the symbol of your agency. You had been standing behind your booth with one of three of your coworkers for about an hour now, waning the daylight in shifts between handling the booth and exploring the convention for food or company that was not the women running your station.
You looked over your watch as you awaited the return of your colleagues so you could switch off again, so you could leave the confines of advertising your business. Your outfit—a delicate gold satin button down that loosely tucked into your perfectly tailored white dress pants, which flowed along your legs and matched with white blazer to create your formal attire suit—was a perfect representation of your agency: distinguished and efficient. Your partner, though she wore silver and blue, stood beside you to match.
You smiled and shifted the clubmaster frames sitting at the edge of your nose as Pearl and Jasper returned, both women sending you nods and smiles as they took your places behind the booth for your switch. “We found the Kings just that way,” Jasper said, pointing in the direction they’d just come from before shifting the cloud of coiled black hair away from her face and securing it in a poofy ponytail. She then slipped her hands back into the pockets of her dark red suit, glancing back at Pearl as she spoke.
“They’ve got a nice booth. We might have some competition,” she quipped, smirking as smoothed her fingers over the thin chain of her necklace.
Opal, your own partner, laughed and shook her head. “Don’t we always have competition with the Kings?” she retorted, playful as she turned to walk with you. You agreed with her joke and headed in the direction Jasper had pointed in.
On the way, a pair of eyes spotted you and you offered a large grin. One of the agencies you partner with were the Amadoda Amafulege, the Flagsmen. They were a company set in Africa who you counted on for certain resources: information, jewels or gemstones, fabrics. They were reliable friends.
You and Opal approached them with wide grins, pointing them in the direction of your own booths to greet Jasper and Pearl. The interaction was short but warm hearted, and you were off again before you could be sidetracked by some other business you happen to work with. You both continued on walking, greeting physical bodies and holographic forms with waves and nods.
The large sign of the Kingsman symbol sat atop a booth as two well-dressed gentlemen with glasses stood behind their booth. One of them spotted the both of you, recognizing the likewise fashion choices as you came closer. Opal grinned, a mix of amusement and adoration in her tone at the company which both allied and competed with your own. “The famed Kingsman.”
The younger one smiled, offering a nod to you both. “Hello,” he greeted. When you finally stood in front of their booth, he reached out and handed each of you a pamphlet. You glanced over it, disinterested in absorbing information you already know. Both agents held their hands out for you. “Agent Galahad. This is Agent Merlin.”
The older man, Merlin, gave a courteous nod, “Pleasure to meet you.”
You nodded, shaking his hand confidently. “Back at you,” you responded. “We didn’t know if you’d be coming.”
Merlin gave a nod, smiling with a slight chuckle at your words. The Kingsman had not shown up to the last convention, business had gotten in the way and they were greatly missed. “We pulled some strings.”
You looked over their table at a few gadgets, some disguised as ties or watches, and then looked over at the two suits they chose to display similarly to your own booth. “Good to have the famous Galahad and Merlin,” you said, “and with a good booth.”
Your tone offered your impressed attitude toward their well-decorated station. Some of the booths here had not offered a lot of effort, simply their symbols on a sign and some pamphlets and gadgets on their tables. Plain. Boring.
“Some of these are severely lacking,” Opal said, practically reading your mind. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing the black curls out of her face so she could see as she offered her smile. “You’d think a secret service could put together a decent booth.”
Galahad extended a hand with his suggestion, "You should stop by the Statesman. You'd probably be impressed."
"We'll keep it in mind," you agreed, picking up one of the fancy watches on display. You examined it, the Kingsman symbol hiding under the glass, the gold lining on the band, the knobs and secret accesses embedded inside.
Merlin smiled, "In the meantime, we shall take a stop by yours."
Opal nodded, "Down by the Krispy Kreme. Can't miss it."
Your thumb pressed against the button on the side meant to wind the hour hand. It obeyed, pushing down and revealing a hologram of the Kingsman symbol once more.
"Very nice toy," you commented, pushing the button again to make the symbol retreat.
Merlin hummed, "You haven't found the kill button yet."
You shook your head, still examining the watch. "No, I have. You've got the poison dart here–" you tapped the near-invisible button on the side, "and the tranq dart here," you tapped the button next to it.
They raised their brows at you, impressed. "You've got them too close together, you should separate them a little more," you suggested. "Wouldn't want someone trying to knock an important target out and end up killing them instead."
The agents glanced at each other under Opal's watching gaze and your diverted one as you set the watch back down. Galahad nodded, "Right."
"Opal," you said as you turned to your partner. She hummed and you held your hand out.
"Oh, yes," she mumbled, lifting the lapel of her jacket to reach into a pocket. She handed it to you for you to present to both Kingsman. The box was lengthwise, a thin, golden thing housing a watch made by your agency.
"This is for Galahad—Harry—sent by our boss. She was hoping for us to run into you today. You'll give it?" You said, handing it over to the two.
"Of course," Merlin said, peeking inside of the box with a nod.
The two of you left again to go look at some other booths, or to find food. They sent you off with the directions to the Statesman, waving and wishing you farewell.
As you walked next to Opal, you recounted the booths you'd seen and the ones you hadn't on the way. You motioned toward the restaurant in the distance, smiling at the waft of good food as you got closer to it. You would all have to stop and eat there later today.
Your thoughts came to a halt when you heard someone's voice speaking to you, an unfamiliar voice that had you turning your head at the two figures approaching you.
"Hey there, sugar."
The voice had a Southern twang, smiling and confident as the owner slowed to stand in front of you. "Here we go," Opal mumbled beside you with an amused grin.
He was a handsome man, charming in the right ways. The black hat on his head accompanied his accent and his outfit, a suit that screamed professional cowboy. The mustache above his lip was kept and clean, and he wore it well, along with the glasses on the bridge of his nose.
He looked at you with his dark eyes, his tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip as he smirked. "How lucky am I to see a beauty like you in a place like this?"
There was a woman next to him with short dark brown hair mostly shielded by her own western hat, her skin shades lighter as her own glasses sat at the bridge of her nose. She held her hand out, "Hi, I'm Ginger Ale. This is Whiskey."
"Nice to meet you," you greeted her warmly, taking in the sight of her with a look that could only be described as an evaluation.
You turned to Whiskey, raising an amused brow as you held your hand to shake his. He grabbed it gingerly, bending at the waist to press a kiss to your knuckles.
"How do you do?" he winked, holding onto your hand a little longer before letting you go.
Opal chuckled, "He's cute."
He smiled at her, satisfied with her assessment as he grinned at her like some excited pup.
You tilted your head, nodding slowly. "Yeah… In a flirty toddler kind of way." His demeanor did not shift, your words were no dagger to his ego. "Just want to pinch his cheeks and pat his head," you chuckled, half-reaching like you would actually do it.
You might, his skin looked soft and you want to see his hair underneath his hat.
He winked again, licking his bottom lip, "You can do whatever you want, sugar," he quipped.
You chuckled. Cute.
"You think so?" you asked, tilting your head as you pitched your voice a few octaves to sound as sweet as the nickname he kept calling you.
He shifted so he was standing beside you, careful with his arm in case you didn't want to be touched. Thoughtful. He walked a little with you, leaving Opal and Ginger to stand next to one another and watch him guide you a few feet away.
"I know so," he chuckled. "What's your name?" He said "your" in that way only cowboys can say it: that slurred 'u' that made the 'r' slightly bleed into the last word.
You licked your bottom lip, offering a teasing gaze as you looked at him through your lashes. "Why don't you guess it?" You turned to him, setting your hands on his chest and playing with his tie.
He seemed charmed, entranced by your little gestures and looks. "Probably something pretty like that necklace," he smirked, motioning to your chest as his fingers brushed the golden locket around your neck, resting just between your breasts.
You took it in your hands, stroking the sides. "You like my necklace?"
"It's beautiful," he agreed, staring back at you with a gaze that matched the lovestruck puppy vibe he'd given you earlier. "Just like you," he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles once more.
"You wanna take a look inside?"
"I'd be delighted," he breathed, leaning forward just a little as his face huddled closer to you. You offered a tiny giggle as you undid the clasp, slowly opening the locket as you built the suspense of what could possibly be presented inside.
A bright light flashed quickly into Whiskey's eyes, there one second and gone before a full one could pass. Whiskey's hands rushed to his face as he made a slight groan, and he stumbled backward. You reached forward, pressing a hand to his chest, and watched him fall to the ground.
He made little sounds of discomfort, laying on his back as he brought his hands away and blinked rapidly. He stared in no clear direction, looking around blankly for…something.
Opal chuckled from her spot, Ginger stared with a mix of amusement and concern, and you just looked down at him with a smile as he tried to see.
You approached him, bending at the hips and looking down at him with a smile. You brushed some hair out of your face.
"This is my partner, Opal," you gestured toward her, though you knew he could not see. Your necklace had a device within it that temporarily blinded those on the unfortunate end of it—temporarily.
You pressed a hand to your chest, "My name is Diamond," you reached out and picked up his hat, which had fallen off his head. "Agents of the Queensmaiden."
You brushed the fabric of the hat, setting it over his face before straightening your back. You looked at Ginger Ale as you rejoined Opal's side. "Nice to meet you, Ginger."
She smiled and dipped her hat at you once, waving. "You, too. Feel free to stop by the Statesman."
You nodded, looping your arm with your partner's, paying the blind agent no mind as he struggled to his feet. "We were just headed there!" you smiled, amazed at the turn of events as you pointed it out. "We'll stop by later…when he can see again."
You turned with Opal, looking over your shoulder and grinning gently. "Bye, Whiskey," you giggled before taking your leave.
Whiskey reached out hastily, grabbing a hold of Ginger, just to make sure she was still there. The way she could have rolled her eyes and shook her head as a dopey smile spread over his lips. He motioned in the direction he thought you walked out in, sighing dreamily.
"I need her."
This time, Ginger did roll her eyes and shake her head. She took his outstretched hand and started pulling him back to the booth. "Come on, lover boy."
You did visit the Statesman’s booth—where you met Scotch and Tequila—but did so while Whiskey was away. You wanted to tease him, make him anticipate your arrival for you not to appear and leave him wanting more.
As the night waned, the booths were taken down to make room for the afterparty that had already begun. You were standing at one of the tall, narrow tables with Opal and Tequila, enjoying the music playing in the background as people mingled through the night.
As you laughed at a sarcastic comment made by Tequila, you heard the familiarly smooth voice of his colleague fill the space between you and couldn’t fight your smile.
“I see you’ve met my associate,” he announced himself, sidling up next to you as he leaned on the table. The look on his face held no defeat or upset, he was just as smiling as before as he took in the sight of you, once again entranced.
You chuckled, looking him up and down as you watched each other. “Oh,” you smiled, “so you can see again…”
He laughed heartily at that, amusement seeping into the sound and painting your stomach with butterflies, a light, airy feeling that bounced off the bones of your ribcage. He clasped his hands together, motioning with his head toward your chest, where your golden locket still lay idly by.
“Very nifty gadget, that necklace of yours,” Whiskey smiled, his eyes never leaving yours for long.
You picked it up, tracing your thumb along it like you had done before in a slight tease. “I’d like to think so. I designed it,” you confessed, setting it back down and looking at him, your head tilted up as you straightened your spine with pride. He tilted his head to the side, his grin deepening at your clear genius.
Tequila and Opal shared a look as they took in the interaction, chuckling lightly. “I’ll go ahead and step away now,” he said, doing just that and glancing back at your partner standing by his side.
She nodded her agreement, holding her hand out to the offered crook of his arm. “And I’ll join you.” She walked away with him, shaking her head and smiling as she left to go hang out with her own new plaything—of sorts.
Whiskey’s eyes looked you up and down as he thought over something for a moment before he simply spoke again. “Can I buy you a drink, sweetness?” he offered, holding his own arm out for you as Tequila had done.
You considered him, raising a brow. “I’m still sweet, huh?”
He flashed his teeth with his next grin, dipping his head down in a nod as a gesture with his hat. “Like sugar,” he hummed.
You sighed. “Okay.” Your arm looped through his own, and he smiled triumphantly as he gently tucked you into his side. You gave him a similar gaze to the one you’d given him before he ended up walking around blindly for an hour: your head tilted down as you looked up at him through your lashes, your smile soft, and your eyes teasing—the perfect demonstration of the less eloquently put “fuck me eyes”. “Lead the way, Whiskey.”
He walked you to the bar that had opened earlier on for the convention. The liquor was all top shelf stuff—they wouldn’t dare give low-quality alcohol to these highly respectable representatives of these agencies. He made sure you were sitting comfortably on your stool before he took his seat next to you—a true gentleman.
A bartender came down to the pair of you and smiled, waiting for your orders. “Scotch, neat,” you nodded, adding a “thank you” on the end as you looked away, anywhere but Whiskey while your eyes examined the many options behind the bartender.
“Actually,” Whiskey held his finger up, “I want you to try something.” You looked at him, narrowing your eyes teasingly at what he could be doing now. He turned to the bartender, pulling his hat off and setting it to the side to reveal the neatly kept hair underneath it. “Kentucky Statesman, whiskey,” he nodded.
They nodded back before stepping away to grab the bottle. You looked at him with a smirk as he gazed back at you, self-satisfied before you’d even tried the liquor he’d suggested. The bartender returned with the bottle of the amber liquid, showing off the label to ensure it was the correct one. When Whiskey nodded, they grabbed two glasses from under the bar and set it on the table, pouring the appropriate amount into each one.
You picked up the glass as it was given to you, swishing it around and examining it. You picked up the bottle in your other hand and looked at the label as you brought the lip of the glass to your nose to smell the heady scent of liquor. “Whiskey from Whiskey, huh?” you quipped, still only sampling the scent.
He laughed, sitting back with his glass in his hand, refusing to take a sip until you had. “Give it a taste.”
You smiled suspiciously, bringing the glass to your lips and sniffing it once more before finally tasting it. A sigh escaped you as whiskey lingered on your tongue before burning delightfully down your throat. It was magnificent, like liquid gold.
"Oh my god," you whispered under your breath, closing your eyes and shaking your head.
He smiled proudly, "Good, right?"
You looked at him, composing yourself once more as you straightened your back and too-slowly set your glass back down. You let out a long, calculated breath and just nodded too hard. "It's…It's good, yeah."
He finally drank from his own glass, hiding his chuckle as he beamed. "Go on," he said as he set his glass back down. "Have some more. On the house."
You looked at him, raising a brow. "I thought you were buying me a drink," you pointed out, taking another generous gulp.
He leaned back, motioning widely to the large selection of fine liquor. "Be my guest, get whatever you want."
You inhaled the intoxicating scent of the drink already in hand, your eyelids fluttering for a split second before you just shook your head. "I suppose I'll settle for this," you told him, sipping your drink and setting it down again.
Whiskey grabbed the bottle and refilled your glass. You looked up at him, narrowing your eyes playfully and smirking. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"
He shook his head, "Of course not. Just tryna show you the plus side of a Statesman." He set the bottle down and winked at you.
You scoffed, anything but annoyed. "What, think I'll find you?" you swirled your drink around. "We'll hook up over some good liquor?"
His laugh was nearly explosive as he shook his head, seemingly amused in the deepest degree. "Oh, no," he said. "I intend to do more than simply 'hookin' up' with you."
You hummed your response, examining him for far too long and looking away before his dark gaze could override your self-restraint. You crossed your legs, turning your body to face away from him again.
"So," he breathed, "tell me about the Queensmaiden."
You took in a long breath and blew it out to think, reaching out and grabbing his hat discarded on the table. Feeling the fabric under your fingers, you tilted your head. "What do you want to know?"
He shrugged, "Where did it come from?"
"Well," you began, "It was formed some time after Kingsman, 1952, by a man named Bobby Gold." They way you said it, with reverence and sass, Whiskey's lips twitched in a smile. "He's like… in his late eighties now, looking good." You shook your head to get back on track. "He founded the Queensmaiden to be an all-women agency, picked a protégé to take his place and run it after he stepped down."
You turned to him with a boastful smirk, "She's the first Diamond—was the first Diamond, she retired. I knew her, worked with her when I first joined. I got her name, promoted from Quartz."
He nodded, deeply invested in the way you spoke as you played with his hat, made of sturdy, soft fabric. "Fascinatin'," he smiled.
You nodded. "Gold ran a really popular jewelry business of the same name, had a younger sister who ran a tailor shop for women's clothing with her husband. He founded it, she later partnered as co-founder. Now we're a boutique found in most countries…all over the world." You shrugged your shoulder so nonchalantly, like your boast wasn't a real boast. "It's very efficient, dare I say, more efficient than the Kingsman itself."
He snorted, "Don't tell them that."
You leaned forward, too close within his space, "They probably already know." You sidled up closer to him, a clear flirt as you smiled. You raised his hat to him and set it atop your own head.
Whiskey's eyes darkened as he watched you down his nose. "You know…" he said slowly, "there's this rule where I come from… Wear the hat, ride the cowboy."
You licked your bottom lip as your eyes flicked up and down his face. "Oh, I'm well aware." His hand reached out and grazed your arm, daring to bring you closer before you pulled away from him again with a sweet smile. "What about Statesman?"
It took a beat for him to recover before he was shaking his head. "Not as glamorous," he sighed thickly. "Agency in the south full of cowboys and rascals."
You traced the rim of your glass with your finger, picking it up again and bringing it to your lips. "Well, I love me a nice cowboy," you said as you looked at him over your cup.
"Lucky for me, huh?"
"We'll see." You took a sip from your glass.
Suddenly, the music which had been in the background shifted into something else. Country music blared through the speakers and caught the attention of everyone in the area. Some excitedly stood to go join the small group ready who may have recognized the music, but one look at the jukebox provided by one of the agencies here proved that it was, indeed, a southerner who'd started the music.
Tequila stood there with his hat on his head as he smiled, one hand held out and grasping Opal's hand as he spun her into his chest. He glanced up at Whiskey and nodded once before hopping off to the large space cleared to dance.
He was the one to determine what dance was being done as he twirled Opal around into a half amateur-half professional swing dance. People joined in with their partners and allowed themselves to be swept away into more amateur dancing—a dance Whiskey suddenly seemed confident to prove himself in.
"C'mon, I've never missed a swing," he smiled excitedly.
He took your hand and pulled you to the floor before you could protest. He swung you, making you stumble into his chest as you breathed quickly. "I've never swing danced before," you confessed.
He looked you dead in the eye, his own sparkling with excitement and hints of giddiness. "Just follow me," he breathed, his kissable lips forming the words in a way that made it impossible to deny him this.
You sighed, "You better know what you're doing."
He smirked, this one more sly than the last. "Trust me, sugar," he leaned in. "I know what I'm doin'."
You tilted your head, standing up a little more and placing your hands in his. Once you were situated, you smiled and let out a breath of courage. "Well," you whispered, "show me how a real cowboy does it."
Whiskey beamed before he pulled you into the music, quick steps and swinging arm making it impossible to keep up. He twirled you out, he twirled you back in, he switched you to one side and swung you to the other. He spun you under his arm and into his chest. Just when you thought he might slow down, he dipped and held you in his arms with heavy breaths.
He caught the hat as it fell from your head, lingering there and staring at your lips. You stared into the depths of his gaze, catching your breath as they mingled between you in soft puffs of air. He slowly straightened his spine, standing you up and setting the hat atop your head once more, admiring its place there.
You smiled, leaning forward oh-so slowly. His eyes fluttered until they were closed. He looked so calm, so gentle and pretty. You pulled his hat from your head and put it back on him, lingering there a moment before pulling out of his arms and missing his warmth.
He felt you leave and refused to watch you leave him behind. When he opened his eyes again, you were gone. When he turned his head to a mystified Tequila, Opal was gone.
A breath poured from his lips as he couldn't help but smile. He smiled at your charm, at the way you left him starstruck, at the way he'd slipped his number in your pocket in the hopes you called him, finding him again and leaving him with a little more closure as he looked down at his boots and shook his head.
"Fuck me," he cursed, chuckling to himself.
That was the last he saw of you for months, the last you saw of him for months.
You hated how much you thought about him—his puppy-like flirtations, his darkened gaze, his fascination, and the way he moved you like a tornado on the dance floor. You stared at the crumpled up piece of paper with his number scrawled on it all the time, considering, thinking, wanting to call.
But you never did. Never once did you pick up the phone and dial his number. Never once did you talk about him to your colleagues or your partners—not even with Opal, who was totally smitten with her own cowboy.
You missed him, but you were determined not to.
But that didn't mean a crossing of paths would hinder a good reunion.
You smiled at the receptionist at the front desk, who granted you a smile of his own with the tilt of his head. Walking up to the desk, you adjusted the purse on your arm and spoke. “Hello, I’m here for an appointment with Mr. Sullivan. I’m his three o’clock.”
He hummed, “I wasn’t aware Mr. Sullivan was taking appointments today. Name?” he asked, turning to his computer.
“Davis. We made an appointment together over the phone,” you stated in a sickly sweet voice. “Oh, I hope I marked the right day.”
He looked at you and just smiled, shaking his head. “No worries. I don’t see you in the database, but I’ll just give him a quick call to confirm. Alright?”
You nodded, thanking him kindly as you wiped your hands down your light suit. He picked up the phone and dialed the number to his boss’ office, giving you another large grin. When the phone was picked up, he began to explain the situation, and his reaction was full of wide eyes and stutters. “Yes, sir,” he answered, setting the phone back down.
He looked back at you regretfully. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Sullivan will not be taking any appointments today. You are welcome to reschedule, if you’d like.”
“Of course,” you nodded.
“Great.” He reached down under the desk to grab some papers before wincing. “I’ll have to go make some copies. If you’ll excuse me.”
“Not a problem.”
He disappeared behind a door behind the desk and you sighed, turning anyway to go up to the elevator on your right. As you were walking, you noticed a group of men walking down the hall, dressed in black with shades over their eyes. Security guards. You straightened your spine and merely kept walking. You were just at the elevator when you heard shots firing behind you. You groaned loudly and ducked for cover. Their gunfire was loud and thunderous, making couch stuffing and wood splinters fly through the air as you hid behind a desk behind a sofa in the cushy lobby.
You cursed under your breath as you dug through your purse. “No, no, no,” you mumbled as you selected which weapon you would use. You dug out a little silver disc and smiled. “Yes,” you declared as you pulled a little pin out of the side.
You threw it behind you where the guards were still shooting, and ducked down, waiting for a blow that never came as the gunshots continued. “Talc!” you yelled, shaking your head at the newbie in the weapons department and one of her faulty weapons making its way into your arsenal.
You huffed as you looked behind you before you suddenly heard a body drop. You looked over and your eyes widened in shock and surprise. Hiding behind a couch a little farther away from your own was a person who definitely was not on their side. He locked eyes with you, and your expressions became mirrors of the other.
“Diamond?” “Whiskey?”
The simultaneous ringing of your names only escalated the confusion as you stared at one another. “What are you doing here?” he questioned in as low a whisper he could manage to ensure you still heard him, holding a sleek, golden gun tight in his grip as he paid no mind to the small cavalry currently shooting at you.
“I’m on a fucking mission. What are you doing here?” you countered.
He shrugged, “On a fuckin’ mission.”
Shit. “Shit,” you huffed. You thought for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. “What’s your objective?”
Whiskey pressed his gun to his temple, tilting it up as a gesture of his assassination attempt. You let out a breath of relief, pulling a drive with the Queensmaiden symbol on the side from out of your bra and showing it off to him. He sighed as well.
“Cover me?” you asked.
He smiled and nodded, sending you a flirty wink. “You got it, sugar.”
You grinned and counted down for him before ducking out of your cover and rushing to the elevator closest to you. Whiskey stood, grasping his gun as he shot. You pressed the elevator door button and glanced over your shoulder, gripping your gun tight as you waited impatiently for the elevator to open.
When you heard the ding, you had half a second to celebrate as a loud shot came too close to you. You looked down at the elevator button, flashing and sparking as it sat destroyed in the wall.
You pried the door open and shouted Whiskey's name over your shoulder as he retreated back. You got inside, jamming the button closed without missing a beat or waiting for him to get through.
The doors were already closing when he finally slipped through, a bullet missing him by an inch. In the safety of the elevator, you let out a breath and calmed.
There was silence, besides the breaths blowing through the space of the elevator. Whiskey looked at you as you raised your hand, looking at the clock face of your watch.
"You never called," he accused, looking at you with a raised brow and a look on his face that wasn't mad, but not entirely giddy with joy.
You shrugged, still not looking at him. "Been busy."
He chuckled, "With what?"
You missed his voice, that smooth Southern lilt that could lull you to gentle sleep or drive you insane with desire. With the adrenaline pumping through your veins, it was the latter.
"My job," you laughed, pressing a button on your watch as a hologram arose from it, circling the Queensmaiden symbol.
You turned to him, granting him a smile. You were more happy to see him than you should have been. "Did you miss me, lover boy?" you winked. "Tequila says you did."
He scoffed, shaking his head. "You've been talking with Tequila?"
You smirked, nodding. "Of course," you told him, swiping the hologram aside to pull up some files off of some computer. "He's with Opal. They hooked up after the convention."
He sighed longingly, leaning on one leg as he set his gun back in his holster. "And to think," he breathed. "That coulda been us."
You snorted, "Don't get ahead of yourself, cowboy."
You tapped away from the files you'd been scrolling through, pulling up some surveillance footage. There was a hall through the camera, one full of guards with more numbers than the ones downstairs.
"Aww," you muttered. "We have a whole welcome party waiting for us." You turned him with a grin, swiping away the hologram and returning your hand to your side.
He reached behind his back as he smiled. "How sweet."
Whipping his jacket to the side, he grabbed some sort of fancy handle, intricately detailed with gold and silver. You nodded, impressed as you looked at its design.
"Nice," you commented. You opened your jacket, sliding it off your arms and reaching behind you to grab a hold of a handle of your own. It was blue, a shining color that sparkled as Whiskey's eyes scanned over it.
The elevator dinged and you stood beside Whiskey with a smile. The sea of guards on the other side watched you with stern faces, ready for the inevitable fight as they stared down two people who didn't stand a chance.
"Well, howdy, fellas," Whiskey greeted, tipping his hat.
You tilted your head and smiled, "How do you do?" You pressed a small button on one end and the handle began to unfold, expanding into a dagger on one end of a strong rope and a heavy hammer-like weapon on the other.
At the sight of the weapon, the fight began. With drawn guns and angry glares, the guards were quick with their guns as they cornered you in the elevator.
The handle in Whiskey's hand extended into a lasso—a silver whip that he swung out into the small army. It wrapped around the gun of the man in the front of the group, holding on tight as he pulled it taut and sent him falling forward.
You took your rope dart and began swinging it, smacking a bullet out of the way as it hurdled toward you. You threw it and Whiskey watched, amazed, as it wrapped around some man's neck and the dagger embedded itself into his chest. You pulled it, and he spun around to the floor.
The other guards were distracted long enough for the both of you to retreat from the elevator and into the fight.
Ropes flew through the air, daggers pierced bodies, and electricity had them writhing in pain before dropping to the floor. Whiskey's rope wrapped around someone's neck as he pulled him in, punching him hard in the face and sending him to the floor.
He heard a pained yell behind him and turned to see some man falling to the floor with a blue knife in his back. You stepped forward, setting your foot on his back and pulling the dart out.
"That's cool," he said, admiring your weapon of choice.
You smiled, pulling a gun and shooting someone coming toward Whiskey from behind. "Thank you. It's made of sapphires."
"Oo," he smiled. "Duck." You did so, dipping down as he raised his own gun and shot another man aiming his gun at you.
He looked down at you, knelt on one knee in front of him, tightly gripping your rope tight. "What an interestin' position we've found ourselves in."
You scoffed, standing up too close to him. "Keep it in your pants, hotshot."
You turned on your heel, returning to the fight as the few guards who were left brandished their guns. The last of them were easy to take out, and you did. As you swung your rope at the last man standing you noticed a different rope do the same.
You turned your head to Whiskey as he smiled at you. "Looks like we made a connection."
You rolled your eyes. "Shut up." You grabbed your gun and raised it to the man, shooting him instantly and collecting your rope as he dropped to the floor.
You walked over to the body, bending down and wiping the blood from your blade before stepping over him and toward the grand office door down the hall. Whiskey was more than happy to follow you.
You take a card you'd snatched from one of the bodies and swipe it along the reader, the door sliding open to allow you inside. As soon as you crossed the threshold, you heard the sound of a gun click.
You both looked up at Mr. Sullivan pointing his gun at you, dressed in an expensive suit with hands that trembled only slightly with fear for his life. You sighed, looking back at him. "Well, you caught us," you said as you stood beside Whiskey. "Props."
"Question is…" Whiskey added, "who're you gonna shoot?"
Sullivan tilted his head. There was no amusement in his face, but he gave you a look that said "really?". He motioned between the two of you and raised a brow. "You've got some rope. I've got a gun. I can shoot both of you."
Whiskey nodded, agreeing with his logic. "Well, you caught us fair and square," he sighed dramatically. Then he smirked, "Pull the trigger."
Sullivan didn't like how calm you both were. He was holding a gun to your face, and you were telling him to pull the trigger. Why the fuck would you tell him to pull the trigger if he had the upper hand? Were you suicidal?
"There's just one little thing," you spoke, shifting on your side. "You brought a gun to a knife fight."
Sullivan missed the way you passed your rope dart to Whiskey, who took it with too much excitement and, with a few mighty swings, threw it at the unsuspecting boss. The rope wrapped around his neck, and he dropped his gun to grab it and force it away to no avail. The dagger came back around after its loops, and he had no time to process as it lodged in his chest.
Whiskey smirked before he pulled roughly on the rope, spinning the man round, unwinding him like a yo-yo. The dagger yanked from his chest and Whiskey caught it as it flung back. Mr. Sullivan dropped to the floor, choking on his own blood as it spilled from his wound.
You walked past him dismissively, stepping up to his desk and grabbing your drive. Sticking it in the computer, you began typing away as Whiskey admired your weapon.
"I needa get me one of these," he muttered.
"I've got plenty. I'll send you one," you suggested.
He looked up at you, his eyes glittering, "Really?"
"Why not?" You shrugged your shoulders. Leaned over the desk, you watched the loading bar slowly climb toward completion before you were able to withdraw the drive and stuff it in your pocket.
You grabbed a butterscotch from the bowl on his desk, helping yourself as you walked back over to Whiskey. You smiled at him and tilted your head. You hold your hand out to him, making a grabby motion.
"Can I have it back?" you asked.
He tilted his head up, smiling down at you with narrowed eyes. "Maybe."
"Maybe?" you questioned.
"Can I get something in return?"
You sighed and thought for a moment, continuing to smile at him as you returned your hand to your hip. "What do you want?"
He shrugged, pretending to think. "How about a pretty please?" he smirked, his eyes dark and inviting, his voice quiet and deep.
"You want me to say please?" you asked, standing too close as your eyes flickered to his lips for half a second.
Again, he shrugged, but his smile became more wicked. "A kiss on the cheek might suffice."
You chuckled deeply, standing on your toes as you leaned forward. You got closer, closer, and closer still until your breaths mingled. You shifted to his cheek, turning your head just enough so your lips nearly brushed his ear as you whispered to him. "You're going to have to try harder than that."
You took the rope from his grip and backed away from him, watching him watch you with lidded eyes. You backed toward a private elevator in the office, pressing a button on the wall as the doors opened. You looked toward the door you came in and smiled. "You've got company."
You stepped back into the elevator and the doors closed, shielding you from him as you waved.
Whiskey stood in the office, looking toward the door that was currently being beaten against by his visitors. Smiling and shaking his head, he laughed heartily. "Clever."
You stepped out onto the roof, taking the drive from your pocket and tossing it to the ground. You pulled your gun and shot at it once, destroying it entirely as you made your way to the jet waiting for you. You boarded it, climbing into the pilot's seat as you started it up and left.
As you flew away from the building, you glanced back at it and smiled when you saw a figure climbing up the side of the building to the roof. He looked over his shoulder at you, and you could make out the distinct sight of him waving his arm at you. Not to grab your attention, but to say hello.
You saluted him before departing for a second time.
Your next encounter with him was not so far in the future. In fact, it was later on that night.
You walked into the large house you were staying in after a long day out. Between your mission, your flights, and everything in between, you were about ready to pour yourself a drink and go to sleep early.
The house was owned by the Queensmaiden, a mission house for meetings or get-togethers or just a place for agents to crash after long days on missions. Since your trip today was done alone, your partner back at home serving as your tech that day, you were in this big empty home alone. You didn't mind much, it was a lot of space, you could turn on the stereo as loud as you want, there was plenty of expensive booze. You were all set for the night.
As you walked through the loud house, which was filled with the classic voice of Frank Sinatra, you made your way to the open bar. As you poured yourself a drink, you glanced at the label with a smile. Statesman whiskey.
"So you did like it."
You didn't turn around, but you smiled at the smooth tone of your cowboy behind you. You grabbed a second glass and poured him his own. You set the bottle down, picked up both cups, and walked over to him with a smile.
"It's alright."
You stopped in front of him, making a bad habit of standing too close. Passing the glass over, you looked up at him through your lashes. He wasn't wearing his hat, giving you a view of his tousled hair. Likewise, he was stripped down to a white button down with the sleeves rolled up, his shirt still tucked in his pants fastened with his belt. His tie was gone, and the top buttons of the shirt were undone. He saluted his glass to you, and you gladly clinked them together in a quiet cheer before taking a sip, your eyes never parting from his.
"You know," he sighed. "This disappearing act of yours is starting to get a little old, Diamond."
You shrugged a shoulder, "I can spice it up if you want."
He simply shook his head, "I think I'd rather pick a different act. It would put us in much different positions."
"Oh?" You smiled, reluctantly turning on your heel and stepping away from him. "What positions did you have in mind?"
You lounged on the couch, kicking off your shoes. You looked back at him with one hand on your glass and the other under your chin as you rested your head on the back of the couch.
He sighed once again, his whole body moving with him as he looked at you in that way that reminded you of a lovesick pup. He set his hands on his hips, leaning on the side as he contemplated.
"You never called."
His words from earlier pricked your heart in a special kind of way this time. You sighed and just shook your head, "No, I didn't."
The song playing through the speakers in the house faded out to welcome another. Sinatra's "I'm a Fool to Want You" was sharp in your mind.
You set your glass down and looked up at Whiskey again. You reached your hand out to him, wiggling your fingers in the hope that he'll hold your hand.
He did, and you smiled.
"I did miss you," you confessed.
That offered him some solace. "Honest?"
"Honest." He sighed, stepping closer. You sat up, settling on your knees as he still towered over you. He looked at you for a long time before suddenly smiling. He bent down, wrapping his arms around your body and surprising you as he hoisted you up, spinning you over the couch and setting you on your feet. You held onto him, laughing as he pulled you close to his chest. He slid his hand into your own, entwining your fingers as his other hand rested on the small of your back.
"Dance with me?" he asked.
You tilted your head, "Do I have a choice?"
He laughed and just shook his head. "No."
You laughed. He took a side step, swaying you in time with the gentle rock of the music. It was slow and steady, filled with too much emotion than should have been allowed for a couple who had only met once a few months prior. You rested your head on his chest, your eyes closed as you blew out a long breath.
His voice rumbled in his chest as he spoke, low and quiet. "How lucky am I to see a beauty like you in a place like this?" he smiled.
You chuckled, recalling those words from when you first met. "Am I still allowed to do whatever I want?" you asked, looking up at him.
He spun you out, twirling you before spinning you back in, your back pressing against his chest. He leaned down to your ear. "Never revoked the privilege."
You twisted your neck to see him, smiling at his face so close to yours. You leaned forward, your lips ghosting over his own as you considered it. For a moment, you considered it.
You swerved to hover your lips near his ear, "Catch me."
You stepped away from him, walking backwards as your eyes stayed glued to his. You watched him with the same dark, teasing eyes as you had used before. The naughty look on your face, the proximity at which you once stood, the tingling of your lips never grazing his but teasing him with the possibility of such a sacred union…the thought of never sealing that fate with you and leaving once again for another wild goose chase where he never knew if he would see you again due to the dangers of the lives you both lived. They were possibilities that made his heart ache in ways it shouldn't have.
He just shook his head, deciding then and there that he wouldn't let you have another swift get away, wouldn't let you slip through his fingers with nothing to remember you by but the ghost breaths against the shell of his ear where you exhaled your secrets. "Not this time."
He took a few long strides toward you, taking you in his arms and crashing his lips down upon yours. You gasped into his mouth, melting instantly into him as your legs turned to jelly. He held you close to him, supporting your neck with one large hand as he consumed you in a passionate embrace.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down and swaying gently as you finally kissed the cowboy you'd been craving for months. He bent down, wrapping his arms under you and lifting you to wrap your legs around his waist. He held you up with strong arms, walking you back until he was pushing you up against a wall.
When he pulled from the kiss, heavy, hot breaths were exchanged between the two of you. His hands roamed your body, drinking you in desperately. His mouth pressed against your neck, his tongue darting out to lick along your thumping pulse. You moaned, feeling the heat between your legs igniting with a fire.
His name fell from your lips as he nibbled on your neck. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you pulled on his messy strands.
He rolled his hips into yours, pulling a shaky breath out of you. Your leg tightened around him, bringing him closer as you mirrored his own movement from before, drawing out your pleasure with grinding hips and breathless sighs. He groaned as one of his hands gripped your waist to stop you.
Whiskey unwrapped your legs from him as he set you back down on your feet. When he sank to his knees, it was with a maddening amount of eye contact that he didn’t dare break. His hands smoothed along your sides, rounding to the front to undo the clasp of your slacks. He moved torturously slow as he pulled the slacks down your legs, revealing more and more skin to him as he went along. Your eyes fluttered when you felt his lips on your thigh.
You stepped out of the pant legs when they finally pooled around your ankle. Whiskey leaned forward to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his tongue darting out to taste the skin before taking it between his teeth in a gentle nibble. You stifled a moan at the feeling, watching his dark eyes drink you in.
When he finally fingered the waistband of your panties, he pulled them down in one swift tug to reveal yourself to him. He licked his lips and you bit down on your own. “Look at that,” he praised. “So pretty.” He looked up at you with a cocky smirk, holding the back of your leg up and setting it atop his shoulder.
He leaned forward and your lips parted so delicately when his tongue darted out to lick you. Your breath hitched, halting in your throat as his hot tongue delved between your folds. Like a fire, the warmth spread through your body as you melted into him. Your hips jerked, seeking his mouth.
His lips wrapped around your pussy, tasting you with an intoxicated moan. When he sucked on your clit, your breath trembled and a whimper managed to weave its way through your vocal chords. His talented tongue glided through your folds before retreating as he pulled back from you to look at your pretty face.
You looked down, whining lightly at him as he stared at you with eyes that glittered with praise. His hand trickled up your side before dipping between your thighs and into your warmth. “You taste sweet as sugar, sugar.”
You had to fight through your eye roll as you enjoyed the sweet stretch of his thick fingers inside of you. “You have very skilled hands,” you nearly stuttered. Your eyes fluttered as he curled the length of his fingers.
“Why, thank you, sweetheart,” he dipped his head as though he was still wearing his hat. He pushed his fingers in deeper, adding a third as he coaxed you toward a sweeter release. He was a lot gentler than you expected, treating you like a fragile lover. It warmed your heart, so used to the less patient lovers of one-night stands long since.
The sharp dig of dull nails into the flesh of your thigh contrasted with the prior feathery fingertips on your sides. You were breathless and needy, aching for him all over. With those same fingers still buried deep inside of you, he leaned forward and sucked on your throbbing clit.
The shocks of pleasure creeping up on you sparked along your skin—your fingertips, the very ends of prickly flesh. Your fingers gripped and tangled in his hair. Your hips stuttered forward, searching for his mouth in a desperate attempt to push yourself over the edge.
But he was doing it first, crooking his fingers in the perfect way here and digging the tip of his tongue into that sensitive bundle of nerves there as your pitch climbed higher and higher with the anticipation of a climbing buildup. The rubber band inside your belly snapped and your mouth dropped. What were supposed to be rises of whiny moans were just a symphony of shuddering breaths, arrhythmic and impassioned.
He was right there to ease you through the shocks, encouraging you with his tongue back down to the tingles that covered the expanse of exposed skin.
When he pulled away, his lips were still occupied with your body, pressing hungry kisses to your thighs and lower belly with a fervor that made you tug harder on his curling locks of hair.
He looked up at you with kiss-swollen lips, smiling like an idiot in love—no, not love. This was just lust. That's all. That was it. It didn't matter if that spark in your chest only pumped through your veins when he looked at you like that.
You smiled at him, breathless. "Take me to bed."
"Don't have to tell me twice."
He tightened his grip around your waist before he stood, tossing you over his shoulder and holding you with one arm. You yelped, dissolving into giggles as he carried you through the house and through the winding halls toward the bedroom.
On the way, you smiled as you passed by his hat sitting on a table along the walls. Reaching you, you had just barely grabbed it with your fingertips as you held it to your head.
He pushed the door open to reveal the room: a king-sized bed with golden sheets, a mini chandelier reflecting diamonds all over the expensive room, paintings and frames and shelves probably hiding more tools and gadgets than there are choices of liquor behind the bar in the main room.
He kicked the door closed behind him, admiring the room with a hum and a nod of his head before plopping you down onto the bed. You fell with a bounce, chuckling again as you held onto his hat. He smiled, watching you put it on your head and look at him with eyes that expressed far too much to be an innocent one-night stand.
Part of Whiskey hoped it was more than an innocent one-night stand.
So did you.
But if it was, he would rock your world. He stared down at you with darkened eyes, undoing his shirt and tossing it somewhere in the room. The rest of his clothes followed after until he was in nothing but his boxers. Then he did the same to you, except he didn't stop until you were bare before him, left in nothing but your expensive necklace and earrings to admire the way you still looked like the perfect reflection of the woman of his dreams. He left the hat. You looked perfect in it.
"Not fair," you complained with a grin. "I'm stripped bare, and you're still dressed."
You leaned up on your elbows, sitting up until you were situated on your knees as you leaned forward. You smiled up at him, hooking your finger in the band of his boxers to pull him forward. "Your turn."
He set his hand on your cheeks and nearly melted at the way you leaned into his warm palm, your eyes fluttering shut as a gentle breath blew through you. He shifted his hand so he pinched your chin, lifting your face to see better. "You're so fuckin' beautiful, sweetness."
"Oh, yeah?" you chuckled. "Prove it to me."
He leaned forward, bending down to your face and connecting your lips again. He licked into your mouth, tasting the remnants of whiskey on your tongue. You moaned, melting against him. You pulled away, your hand still hooked around his waistband. You tugged them down, ridding him of the meaningless article of clothing to reveal him to you.
Fuck, he was beautiful. Flushed tipped, thick, and throbbing. As you reached out and stroked your fist over his cock, he twitched in your hand and groaned. You bit your lip, leaning forward and giggling when his hat on your head bumped into his stomach.
He chuckled at you, tilting it up so he could see your face and you could move. You smiled at him before going back to his leaking slit. You leaned forward and licked him, flattening your tongue along his head to taste him. You moaned again, leaning forward to take a longer lick along the length of him. He breathed a curse under his breath, watching you lick him up as you worked your tongue along him.
His hand came to rest on the back of your neck, easing you forward without actually moving you. Your lips wrapped around him, slick and warm as you took him in your mouth. His head tilted back before he looked down again to see you, not wanting to miss a second of it.
"Fuck," he breathed, hips twitching. You smiled around him, working him deeper in your throat with the intent of taking the whole of him. "Fuck, you're amazing. How did I get so lucky?"
You whimpered, laving your tongue along the underside of his cock where the vein was throbbing. "You like that?" he asked. "You like when I tell you how fuckin' perfect you are?"
You nodded as best you could, wrapping a hand on the back of his thigh to pull him in some more. "You're so goddamn perfect," he promised. "Makin' me feel special like this. D'you feel special?"
You just moaned your response, suckling around him and pulling a rough moan from him. After a moment, he pulled you away, setting his hands on either side of your neck as he caught his breath. He looked down at you, smiling and pulling you forward to kiss you again. The way he kissed you this time was so much different than before, so much softer, slower, with more meaning behind it than there ever should have been. Fuck, you were drunk on it, craving his lips more and more with an impossible desperation, even while he was still kissing you.
He eased forward, moving you until you were laying on your back. His lips slipped on and off of yours, down to your neck as he buried his face there and suckled on the skin.
He settled himself between your legs, grinding down on you as you moaned into each other's mouths. You grasped his bicep, squeezing it tight as you stopped him. "Wait," you breathed.
He stopped immediately, looking down at you with a face etched in concern. "What? What's wrong?"
You smiled, "Wear the hat, ride the cowboy." Your hands flattened on his chest and you pushed him back with a huff, flipping him around so he lay on his back as you straddled him.
He smiled at you, setting his hands on your hips. "You scared me for a second there," he said, his thumbs stroking circles along your skin.
You hovered over him with shaky thighs. "Scared you weren't gonna get your cock wet tonight?" you chuckled.
He just shook his head, "Scared I hurt you."
Your breaths filled the rooms as your body slowed to a stop, staring at him. Your heart leapt and you allowed yourself, just for a moment, to succumb to its calling to him.
"You could never hurt me, Whiskey," you promised.
You only allowed him a moment to let it sink in before you were grabbing his cock in your warm palm, stroking him a couple times before guiding him to your soaked pussy. Sinking down on him, both your eyes shut as your breaths puffed into the air.
"Fuck," you moaned. You braced yourself on his shoulders, helping them guide you as you slowly rolled your hips atop his. His hands gripped your waist, blunt nails digging into skin and creating little crescent dents.
The sensations were amazing. His cock stroked along your velvet walls and sparked a desperate pleasure within you that had you forgetting about the little tingles of pain at adjusting to his length. You brought him deeper, your bodies connected indefinitely as you began your slow movements.
Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the blossom of pleasure deep within you. You leaned back, placing a hand on the hat to keep it there as you rolled your hips, faster and faster, chasing the euphoria you craved.
"Look at you," he groaned. "Fuckin' ridin' me like a true cowgirl."
"Lucky for you, huh?" you smirked, breaking off into a whimper as the blunt head of his cock brushed against a sweet spot inside you.
He nodded, "Lucky for me."
You rode him, and you rode him hard, ignoring the ache in your hips and your legs from the continuous motion, ignoring the breathlessness shocking your throat at all the air you were taking in, ignoring the pounding in your chest at the way he stared at you: lips kiss-swollen, eyes sparkling, hands gripping. It was so much, too much, you craved this man more than you'd ever craved anything before in your life.
"Whiskey," you moaned, stifled moans tearing from your throat as his name spilled from your lips. "Fuck, Whiskey, you feel so good."
He hummed. "Take what you need from me, sugar. Take what you want." You leaned forward, holding yourself up with your hands on his shoulders. You were desperate, fucking yourself on him like it was your last time. When his thumb brushed your clit, a guttural moan ripped at your throat and your hips jerked. "That's it, sweetness. That's it."
He was just as breathless as you, guiding your hips with one hand and circling your clit with the other. "Shit," you sighed. "More. Fuck, Whiskey, I'm almost there."
"C'mon, sugar," he urged you. "Cum for me, Diamond."
You didn't care to hold back, you couldn't. You came with a shout, dropping forward onto him and burying your face in his neck. You moaned into his neck, pitchy and breathless as you came apart on top of him. Your hand tangled in his hair, he held tightly to your hips.
Your cunt clenched around him, squeezing and spasming and bringing him to the edge as his release tumbled after yours. One of his hands flew to your hair, holding you there as his fingers carded through.
Your hips canted a couple more times, milking the last ounces of pleasure you could get before you fell against his chest. He held you as you both slowly floated down from your highs, falling into the other's embrace as you came to.
The stillness that followed was like something out of a dream. The air was heavy with the smell of sex, but light with the breaths blowing from the both of you. Every inch of your body tingled, your fingertips felt like pop rocks, your skin prickled with a mix of warm and cold. Whiskey's heartbeat resounded through you, grounding you as you traced your fingers over his chest.
You could feel his hand stroking through your hair, rubbing gently into the back of your neck and making you feel like putty. You could stay like this forever, resting atop him and feeling the life he breathed into you from his chest.
You took in a small breath, leaning up and shifting yourself so he slipped out of you. You sighed a little before looking up at him with a lovesick grin. "Hmm?"
He looked at you, smiling right back as he chuckled lightly. "My real name is Jack."
You smiled and shook your head, burying your face in his chest as you chuckled. "Jack Daniels?" you joked, recalling the name brand Whiskey.
The way he chuckled made you look up at him. "Yes, actually."
You looked at him, smiling so wide your face hurt. "Seriously? Your name is Jack Daniels?"
He nodded, "Yep."
You shook your head, laying your head back on his chest and reaching clumsily over to grab his hat, which had fallen off your head. You set it over your face, shielding you from the light shining from the chandelier.
You sighed slowly, tracing patterns into his skin. You whispered your own name to him, glancing up at him and then back out to the little lion figurine on the small stand against the wall on the other side of the room. It was bronze, standing proudly with one paw perched up and his mouth dropped in a mighty roar.
Whiskey smiled, stroking his hand down your back and then back up to your hair. "You've got a beautiful name, sugar."
You smiled slowly. "Sweet as sugar?"
He nodded, "Sweeter."
You leaned up, your face inches apart. "You're gonna get a cavity if you have any more of me," you kissed his lips, long and slow and wanting more.
"The sacrifices we make…" he replied, chuckling deep in his chest as he kissed you again.
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Pedro Pascal taglist: ... Tag yourself here...
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Be not inhospitable to strangers lest they be angels in disguise.
- W.B. Yeats
This is the quote from W.B. Yeats as a painted sign on the wall as you enter the famous bookstore Shakespeare and Company in Paris.
Strangers always found a welcome at Shakespeare and Company, where they could browse untroubled for hours, especially if they were aspiring writers themselves; and a few – well, a very few – of them may indeed have turned out to be angels, or at least angelic.
The original Shakespeare and Company shop was started in 1921 in the Rue de l’Odéon by Sylvia Beach, the daughter of a US Presbyterian minister. The first writer to patronise the shop was Gertrude Stein, but she fell out with Beach when she took up with James Joyce, whom Stein hated.
Beach published Joyce’s Ulysses when no established publisher would touch it, performing the arduous labour of love of proofreading it. Ernest Hemingway discovered the shop soon after his arrival in Paris, and wrote about it lovingly decades later in A Moveable Feast. When the Germans occupied Paris, Beach refused to sell a signed copy of Finnegans Wake to an invading officer. He said he would return for it the next day. So she moved all the books out and closed the shop. It was “liberated” by Hemingway himself in 1944. However, Beach didn’t have the heart to start again.
In 1948, after a wandering youth and war service, George Whitman came to Paris on the GI Bill, and in 1951 opened an English-language bookshop which he called Le Mistral. A few years later, he moved to the Rue de la Bûcherie, but didn’t rename the shop until after Beach’s death in 1961. He had been too shy to ask her if he could use the name, although they were friends and she used to come to readings at Le Mistral.
Whitman ran his shop as a species of anarchic democracy, even though in some respects he was a benevolent dictator. Anyone who called himself a writer could find a bed there, if there was one free, and stay as long as he liked or until Whitman got tired of him. The only rule for residents was that they must read a book a day and serve in the shop for an hour. One poet, or self-styled poet, who broke the second rule and lay in bed all day reading detective novels was ejected; but his chief offence was his choice of literature rather than his idleness.
The bookshop has its regulars, residents in Paris, not all of them English-speakers by any means, who use it as a sort of club and drop in for conversation and coffee.
Stock control has always been on the casual side. It’s not unknown for someone to lift a book from the shelves, slip it into his pocket, read it and return to sell it for the secondhand shelves the following day.
Inevitably, Shakespeare and Company has long been on the tourist trail, recommended in all the guides. This is just as well, because without their custom it’s hard to see how the shop could have survived. Many are in search of a copy of A Moveable Feast. This is not always on offer because, for some reason which I can’t remember, Whitman took a scunner to Hemingway. The tourists also toss coins into the well in the shop, and it’s not unusual to see an indigent young person lying on the floor and fishing for euros.
On occasion I drop in because the lure of its history is too much even if there are other good independent book stores nearby. Visitors to Paris always want me to take them there and I oblige them even if I feel its lost some of its past glory. Still, I always buy a few books because it’s the best way to support independent book stores in this age of Amazon, as every independent book store needs all the help it can get.
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sapphirepastries · 1 day
A Cleric in a Twisted Wonderland (Octopath Traveler AU) - Let's Make a Deal
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i thought it'd be fun to write the scene where yuu signs azul's contract in book 3 for my cleric yuu. i might write more of these little scenes if im in the mood for it uwu
Yuu looked around the VIP room in wonder. There were a lot of things that were new to her in this world and the entirety of the Octavinelle Dorm and the Mostro Lounge were among them. She had no idea that an entire building could be underwater or that you could bring the sea indoors with such a large aquarium. Not to mention that this VIP room looks like it would have no problem looking like it belonged to the famous tycoon, Roque Brilliante. It didn't help that Azul would definitely get along with him.
It seemed that no matter what world she was in, Azul was still the same as ever. The same went for Jade and Floyd, and even Jack, who was sitting next to her.
She focused her gaze back to the man sitting in front of her. He looked the same as her Azul with the exception of the clothes he wore, and even then the style was similar. Both Azuls wore a nice suit with a coat hanging off their shoulders and a hat. Even the business smile he wore was the same.
"So, what would you like to discuss with me?" he asked.
"I wanted to ask you if you'd be willing to take those anemones off everybody's heads," she replied.
Azul chuckled, that smile of his never leaving his face.
"Hahaha! Goodness me. That's quite the demand to make right out of the gate," he said. "You would ask me to release all 225 students from their contracts with me?"
Jack jumped in his seat, shocked. "You bamboozled that many people?! That's nuts!"
Yuu sighed. As expected of Azul. He could rope anyone into a contract with his silver tongue.
"Yes, well, Jade and Floyd did a bit of proactive market outreach this year." His smile grew wider. "Thanks to that, I've had no shortage of clients ready to strike up deals with me."
He looked her in the eyes.
"Now, Yuu -- as for your request to free those students..."
He went on to explain that the students went into his contracts willingly and that the terms were fair, but Yuu knew better. And even better than that, she knew how to deal with him. Journeying with his Solistia counterpart made her wise to all his tricks.
She did wish she could see the kind side of him in this world, though. He's so sweet when he wasn't looking to rope people into contracts.
"Then what kind of deal do you want to make with me?" she asked, as he finished talking.
Jack whipped around to her. "Wait, what?! Have you lost it?!"
A familiar sparkle appeared in Azul's eyes, and Yuu knew she had him interested.
"Oho. You want to make a deal with me?" He leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he laced his fingers together. "Now there's an interesting proposal."
Behind him, Floyd laughed. "Ahaha! Little Shrimpy's got some guts!"
"I do have to say that I have been interested in talking to you," Azul continued. "I've heard tales of your rather wondrous healing abilities from other students."
Yuu furrowed her brows. As she understood it, Azul's contracts in this world were unique. If both parties agreed to the terms, then he could actually take people's magic away. If he was bringing up her healing magic then...
"'And the gods did give their messengers flame to light the way forward,'" she recited, cutting him off.
Azul blinked, looking bewildered at being cut off. A rare sight. The other boys in the room looked just as confused. What was she talking about?
"As a cleric of the Order of the Sacred Flame, I cannot, in good conscience, give away the flame that was given to me by the gods," she explained. "We are to use that to light the way forward for others. If you are interested in using my healing magic as part of the contract, then you'll have to consider something else."
The bewilderment lingered on the Octavinelle boys' faces, and she smiled gently at them.
"I'm used to this kind of thing," she said. "Is there anything else I have that interests you?"
Azul pursed his lips behind his hands. She was a clever one it seemed. He would have to be careful around her, but something bothered him.
The way Yuu looks at him...it was like she was seeing an old friend again. It felt like she could see right through him.
Why was that?
"Well, I can't possibly impose on your beliefs then," he said carefully. "Let's see what else you have that interested me."
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smokeys-house · 3 days
Robbery at the Hemulen Homestead!
(An installment in the Travel Log series)
Words turned to whispers and then to snores as the day spun down into evening at the house of two young hemulens. Their recent guest, Puukko, had a pleasant stay followed by an unpleasant discovery. She may be an old woman and an ex pirate, but that only makes the sting of being robbed all the more irritating. She'd planned a daring rescue for her purloined purse, and now that night had begun to fall it was time to take action.
The night air was cool and calm in the Italian countryside. It'd been a short trip and a dull one so far for Puukko, who much preferred the sea and its challenges. After finding she'd been stolen from, she spent much of her day planning the rest of her trip alongside planning a burglary. It wouldn't be the first time she'd broken into or out of a place, and certainly not the first time she'd taken back a score.
"The door's unlocked… that's odd fer a pair o' thieves." She thought to herself as she re-entered the farmhouse that had seemed so lovely and simple just the day before.
She twisted the knob gently, careful not to make any unnecessary noise. She pressed her paw against the door and braced it as she stepped into the living area. It only made a slight creak, just as quiet as the floorboards. Luckily most of the house had rugs in place atop the smooth wood flooring, and when combined with the soft fur on her paws, made for very quiet steps.
The living room was filled with no shortage of cupboards, cabinets, and curios. The eccentric and maximally decorated style was familiar to her, although it was far less enjoyable when searching for borrowed belongings. She'd long since gotten over the fear of being caught or being in places she shouldn't, but still she felt as though she was being watched. The fur on the back of her neck stood ever so slightly, and her ears had an itch she couldn't quite shake. They flicked and flitted about, listening for any signs that the sleeping residents had awoken.
She thought to herself on where she would hide a coinpurse filled with doubloons, eventually deciding on rifling through a few drawers first. The first few were filled with various home goods, sewing supplies, utensils, anything you'd find in your average home. Surely a house that made a habit of stealing from their guests would have at least a few damning bits of evidence. Her search eventually brought her to a large armoire with peeling gilded accents.
"Locked. Now this one ought to have at least something." She extended a claw, attempting to pop the lock. Much to her chagrin, it did not budge.
"Well that always works in the novels…" reaching into her capelet, she retrieved a pair of tools, and set to work on the lock. She was careful to maintain slow, quiet, and smooth movements. Dropping a pick onto the wood floor would make a clatter that would surely wake the homeowners. She stuck out her tongue and bit it, agonizing over every failed attempt and focusing all her attention upon the cabinet doors.
"That one's locked! I already tried it." A proud voice proclaimed from above in the rafters.
The large moomin woman fumbled her tools, very much surprised by the sudden and comparatively very loud interruption. She managed to catch them before they clattered to the ground.
"By my tail! Who goes there?" She maintained a hushed tone, although now it was much more a stage whisper than anything significantly quiet.
"I'm nibling!" The voice echoed from the rafters, tearing through the house. It wasn't particularly loud, practically around speaking volume, but the quiet that filled the house was easily disturbed.
"Avast, ye young nibling! I'll have ye scuppered if y' don't keep your voice down!"
"What'sa scuppers? Did you mean to say cupboards?" The nibling's curious nature overpowered the will to match volumes.
"Caulk. Yer. Bone box. I'll have yer guts fer garters!"
"But ma'am doesn't wear garters. Ma'am doesn't even seem to wear stockings nor pants."
"SHHHHHH!" The old moomin sputtered. Her ears turned to chase the sound of a stir from upstairs.
"What was that?" A muffled voice from above questioned.
"I'm sure whatever it is can wait til morning, love." The hemulens were awake, for the moment at least.
"Ma'am talks funny! Looks funny, too!" The nibling dangled from their legs across a rafter, allowing Puukko to snatch them deftly and cover their mouth.
"Not another word. And don't even think about biting me, y' little beast." She recalled the Snork's incident with Little My at the start of the journey.
The stirring from upstairs eventually came to be still, along with the nibling, who grew tired of resisting only moments after being hushed. The pair stood still within the dark and quiet living room, until tense waiting turned to patient boredom.
"Ifmcn bmb weyet hlil mm gm?" The nibling, quite aware that they could not annunciate with their mouth covered, attempted to bargain nonetheless.
"Not got a clue what yer sayin'. But if ye promise t'be quiet I'll put y' down." She returned to a normal whisper now that the silence had time to rebuild itself once more. The nibling simply rolled their eyes, as if to convey that was the exact question they had just asked. She set the nibling down on the couch very slowly, and freed her paw from their face. "Now what're you doin' here in the dead of night?"
"Looking for secrets!" They mimicked binoculars with their paws. They managed an excited tone at a whisper's volume. Puukko shot them a confused and exasperated look.
"Well, can y' do that quietly?"
"No! What are YOU doing here in the dead of night ma'am?" The nibling pointed their faux binoculars at her. "Are you a pirate? You sound like a pirate." The nibling put down their paws, then covered one eye like an eyepatch and pointed at Puukko with the other paw.
"I'm lookin' fer me gold. These two sneaks took it from me bag when I were sleeping. Tell you what, nibling. While yer pokin' about fer secrets, see if ye can't help me find a nice red drawstring pouch. It's got a gold letter P on the front." She ignored the second question.
"Aye aye, captain!"
"Don't." She rolled her eyes at them, and moved on to search other cabinets and drawers.
Puukko and the nibling searched high and low, for the nebulous goal of secrets and for a sack of old coins. The searching itself was slow, each cabinet and cupboard was filled with knick knacks and nonsense. It's a dreadful thing to search through every nook and cranny when each one is filled with enough noise to wake the world over.
"Miss pirate lady, I'm getting hungry. I've already seen what's inside all of the food in their pantry so I don't like it anymore."
"No one's saying you've got to stick around, nibling. I'm quite happy t' keep looking on my own." She didn't look up from her rummaging.
"Do you have any secrets ma'am?"
"I'm afraid that all my secrets are a long ways away from here."
"Secrets or food, Miss pirate lady. I need one or the other or I'm gonna go see if those hemulens have secrets in their room!"
"Now hold on a moment! Jus' keep quiet. Uhh.. secrets… what's secret?" She mumbled to herself a moment, recalling story after story. "As it turns out I'm a pretty open book. None too many folk know I sleep with a stuffed animal, though, how's that?"
"That's booooring, Miss pirate lady!" The nibling threw their head back in frustration, kicking their feet from their seat on the couch.
"Hang about a moment nibling, have you e'er had hardtack?" She pulled two ship's biscuits out from a pocket in her capelet. They were wrapped in waxed paper and tied off with twine. The nibling's eyes were briefly transfixed.
"Is it food, or secrets?"
"In a way, it's both." She began unwrapping the biscuits. "These'uns got me face on em. Yer s'posed t' have a seal or somethin' printed on it, never was sure why. But when it came to makin' my own I weren't sure what to put on 'em. It's not like I had a crew to feed or nothin' at the time, so no ships marks an' I ain't own a bakery so I don't got anything fancy to put on. Asked some folk I know what I ought t' do. They got to their usual antics and held a competition I guess." She clicked the biscuits together. They were unbelievably hard and made a sound like wood when struck.
"Winner was a young gal from the valley I live near. Her brother's the one what brought me t' Italy. Anyway, she said it ought to be my face on account of that's what she'd do!" She laughed, probably a little louder than was appropriate for the volume of a burglar.
For the moment, the nibling seemed placated with the story. Their paws eagerly awaiting what they assumed to be something tasty, or at the very least interesting.
"Help me find my money and they're yours, kid." She held them up, the side with her face stamped into it intentionally facing away from them.
"As ma'am pleases!" The nibling snatched the biscuits, they carefully examined the stamping before biting hard into one. "Ouch! These are horrid!" Barely a dent was made. "I love them!"
"Well usually yer s'posed t' break 'em up and put 'em in soup. Or mix with something else. It's rough goings on when all ye have's the biscuits themselves."
"Is that what you keep in that big leather bag?" The nibling continued to nibble on the biscuit.
"Not usua–" she stopped as she made a realization. "I'm not wearing a bag right now, young nibling. I didn't want to accidentally make any extra noise… how'd you know about it?" She squinted at them with suspicion.
"I saw it when I took those funny coins you're looking for. I wanted to check the rest of your bag, too, but you started snoring a lot and it was really annoying."
"When you what?!" She approached the nibling, paws balled into fists. "Why, you little wretch! If y' took them, why didn't ye tell me sooner!" She picked them up so they couldn't flee.
"You asked me to help you find them, not where I put them, that's all. I just wanted to count them but I got distracted with all the other stuff here. I like knowing what's in things and I love secrets."
"And how exactly have you 'helped' me at all tonight, young nibling…?" She set them back down, exasperated. The nibling seemed not to have any idea what was happening nor why she was so upset.
"I searched all the places I didn't hide your coin purse so that you'd only have the one place to look!" The nibling smiled, proud of themself. Puukko palmed her face, it would have made a 'slap' were she not covered in thick fur. Instead, it was more of a 'pomf'.
"Where is my coin purse, please and thank you?" She put on her best polite voice, clasping her paws together.
"On the rafter I was hanging from, I think."
"Would you be so kind and retrieve it for me?" She was choosing her words very carefully.
"Nope! I'm not so-kind, I'm nibling!" They shook their head. It was getting difficult to tell whether they were joking or not.
Puukko, who had enough shenanigans for one night, looked about for a step ladder of some kind. She was quite tall, especially for a moomin, but the living room itself was quite taller. She began stretching her arms and legs, squatting in place a few times. She forced her head around with her paws, her neck audibly cracking.
"What are you doing ma'am?"
"Stretching, nibling."
"Stretching what?"
"Stretching my muscles, nibling."
"You look quite silly."
"I know, nibling." There was a hint of defeat in her voice. She thought the whole situation was quite amusing, but she was also quite frustrated. The nibling nibbled on their biscuit as they watched the old woman clamber up the armoire.
"You're too big to climb like me!"
"Every finger's a fish hook." She extended her claws and wrapped her arms around the rafter above, sinking her claws into the wood. She lifted her legs off the armoire and wrapped them around the beam as well, now hanging from it as she shimmied her way over to where she first saw the nibling.
"I haven't climbed like this since I were aboard a proper ship!" She felt around above her for her bag. As she was searching, she was suddenly interrupted by a shriek from the top of the stairs. It was one of the hemulen homeowners who had come down to investigate, wielding a rug beating stick like a club.
"This isn't what it looks like, miss!" Puukko attempted to adjust her grip, knocking her bag to the floor off the rafter above. The coins immediately spread out from the bag and all over the living room. The woman began shouting in Italian, beckoning her partner and questioning the moomin in her rafters.
"Nibling, d' you speak Italian? Because I only got about half o' that."
"I do!" The nibling smiled again, proud but not elaborating nor assisting.
The hemulen woman ran down the stairs, jumping to swat at Puukko. She hit her over and over in the rear, jumping each time to reach the lowest hanging part of her. Puukko's arms had grown tired from climbing and holding, and she tucked her tail up as best she could against the hemulen's less than effective but still painful assault.
"Yeowch! Stop hitting me! This is a big misunderstanding! It's me! Puukko! I just stayed over the other night!" She cried out in mostly broken Spanish, hoping the carryover was enough to get her point across. The rug beating wand broke off against her as she clung to the rafter, claws beginning to slip. The woman stopped for a moment hearing the name, but being unable to see much in the dark, she threw the handle of the wand directly at Puukko's head.
She plummeted, and slammed atop a pile of her own money, landing square on her back with a loud grunt. She writhed a moment as the other hemulen came rushing down with a lantern, finally allowing them to see who their would-be burglar was.
"Bless me tail…" She whimpered weakly, recovering the wind that had been knocked out of her. "...Fergot most folks can't see in the dark…" She huffed. The couple repeatedly spoke, now out of concern for the woman that had been their guest not one night before.
"Nibling… please translate, I can't understand what they're saying." She spoke from the ground.
The night slowly rounded out into morning as Puukko attempted to explain the misunderstanding with translation help from the nibling. Coffee was made, and the coins were collected and put in their proper place. She learned that the nibling is the adopted child of a neighbor, and often sneaks about throughout the area in search of secrets. The people of the area leave them alone for the most part, since nothing is ever missing for long. Apologies were given across the room, save for nibling, who maintains that they did nothing wrong.
"Bye-bye, Miss pirate lady! Or, Puukko! If I find out what's in the armoire I'll let you know." The nibling shouted from the porch as the old moomin made her exit, to which one of the hemulens gently slapped them on the back of the head. Puukko left no worse for wear, but sore in the back and with a new story to tell. Though this one she might just keep to herself, having learned the value of a secret, even if only valued to a little creature like a nibling.
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smile-2-be-happy · 2 months
Just watched the teen wolf movie:
The beginning: this is corny as hell 😂
The middle 80%: am loving it, feels like returning to an old friend. Exactly what I wanted from this movie
The end twist: I recognise that the creators have made a decision, but given it's a shitty decision, I have elected to ignore it.
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boxafunfi · 7 months
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artemisbarnowl · 11 months
Today after dancing I sat down in a chair and as I leant forward to unbuckle my shoes my lower back did a lovely series of pops like when you extend the scrunched bit on a bendy straw.
I missed that.
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ectogeranium · 1 year
I have a very cute outfit planned in my head, and if I cannot execute it properly, I will cry about it.
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daydreamerdrew · 20 days
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Fantastic Comics (1939) #6
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piscesmerc26 · 2 months
———–┊⁀➷Attractive placements in astrology (Pt 2🤭🤍)
Another one because you guys seemed to really like the first one, so here we go, incase you didnt see pt 1, check it out here.
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🤍,, Mercury 1H; These individuals usually have an impressive intellect, are emotionally aware and are good with their responses to people. These people have a warmness that draws others to them that people can't resist.
🤍,, Pluto/Mars-Asc or Pluto/Mars 1H...these individuals have an intimidating presence and a willpower like no other, they often intimidate others yet people can't help but be drawn to them and they dont even have to do much, giving very much bde🫣
🤍,, Venus-Asc/Midheaven...Just beautiful, these people are not only usually popular where they work but they have a beauty like no other, usually alot of people take their side in discussions, not many would want to upset these individuals. Beautiful souls.
🤍,, Gemini Venus...despite the reputation of this placement, these people are often attractive people, people are also attracted to their style, how they talk and express their emotions. Intellectual individuals, these individuals have a cool exterior that attracts alot of people, they tend to appear very confident
🤍,, Earth Venuses...Earth venuses are no doubt, in that top 5 for my favorite venus placements. Earthy presence and these people dont get attention for how artistic they are. Very poetic individuals, many people are drawn to them because of their minds and how they move. These people also have a strong sense of boundaries that simply attracts many.
🤍,, Capricorn/Virgo/Pisces Ascendants...I just had to include these in this post, not many people discuss them even though these people are the rising signs of so many people we admire today. Dreamy like appearance,
🤍,, Eros-Asc/Midheaven...These individuals have authority and respect wherever they go. I feel like these individuals are similar to Capricorn Ascendants, people are usually drawn to them from the power they hold
🤍,, Cardinal Suns (Aries, Libra, Capricorn, Cancer)...These people are usually popular individuals. Whether theyre intro or extro, people are drawn to them, they have such fun personalities once you get to know them, love these people.
🤍,, Mercury 11H...Intelligent. Confident. I love this placement, people with this placement attract through their power, beliefs and their assertion. Many look up to them and these people may have a proud voice.
🤍,, Sagittarius Mars...people with this placements are simply the best. If developed, these individuals are very fun to be around, expect to go on a lot of adventures, many are drawn to them by their flirty and fun personality.
🤍,, Moon-Ascendant (esp. conjunction)...These people have the appearance of a mermaid, something other worldly, conventionally attractive yet they also have a "one of a kind" beauty. These people are also very sweet individuals. Many people are drawn to them from how emotionally understanding they are.
🤍,, Moon-Venus positive aspects...These individuals are amazing lovers. People with this aspect a natural poets. People are drawn to them by their calm aura, they almost always know what to say to make someones day, this can be applied to Mercury-Venus aspects also.
———–┊⁀➷,,That is all for now, I hope you enjoyed🤍🕊️.
- J,,🤍
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glitteredrry · 2 months
5 ways harry mentions you on stage
summary: Being Mrs.Styles has it’s perks, but nothing will ever beat when your husband takes time out of his show to shout you out in some way.
warning: all fluff and happiness. small mention of alcoholic beverages.
wc: 1k
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1. pointing or blowing a kiss at you
One of the reasons you fell in love with Harry was because of the little things he has done for you since the beginning. When you both started dating of course the world didn’t know, you just seemed like a friend of someone on his team joining the show, that all changed when fans kept questioning who he was blowing a kiss to at each show. By compiling different tour dates videos, fans noticed that he would blow a kiss or point to the side of the stage during specific parts of songs. It wasn’t at each tour date, only when you could attend. Eventually, they matched the air kiss to the face, and the internet went wild because of you. Immediately you were known as Harry Styles' mystery woman. Fast forward five years later, and both of you were still melting the internets’ hearts, only now you were his wife. Love on tour was a whole new ballpark compared to his first tour. He was breaking records left and right, and entertaining anywhere from 17,000 to 80,000 people a night; no matter how big the arena or stadium was he made sure that you knew he was thinking of you. It didn’t matter what kind of day the both of you had,  he would never stop showing you that small piece of affection.
2. mimicking your dance moves
Now you know that you’re not the best dancer in the world, but you’re not the popstar of you two. You sure act like it though. Your dance moves are not planned or practical, when you attend the shows you go to support your husband and enjoy yourself. When you’re in the family section sometimes you just really get into the music and start dancing with not a care in the world. Oh, but when Harry notices you, he begins to mock your dance moves until you or the fans pick up what he is doing. He’s not doing it with any malicious intent, or to make you uncomfortable. He genuinely loves to see you dance, he also loves your dance moves because it's so unique. He doesn’t know how to explain it, he loved getting to dance with you in a room full of people. The cameras from fans all bounce between you two and your interaction. In Harry fashion, once you notice you get embarrassed shooing him away, and with a giggle, he is running off to the other side of the stage.
3. “what are we drinking tonight?”
On occasion, before he starts to read the many signs across the rooms held up by his lovely fans, he asks you a question first. What are we drinking tonight? Harry knew that you weren't much of a drinker, and the only time you drank was when he performed. You would sometimes have an alcoholic drink, other times it would just be some water. He would joke and say ‘that’s right honey, treat your body with kindness.’ You knew that he wasn’t serious, but on the nights that you would happen to have something alcoholic, he would be shocked and scream it throughout the arena, ‘tequila! save some for me, love.’ He then reads fans’ signs leaving you with a smile. You loved him more than words could explain.
4. straight up calling you out
During a show, he loved to call you out by name. One of the ways that he did it was through a fan's sign. He would tell a small anecdote about your relationship and people would eat it up each time. For example, a poster would read ‘the love of my life broke up with me, what do I do?’ Harry would pause sympathizing with the fan because one time the love of his life broke up with him. “If they’re the love of your life then they will always find their way back to you. The love of my life broke up with me once. Now, she’s my wife.” The whole crowd would cheer because both of you made sure to be private about your relationship. Then sometimes it would be a silly sign like ‘came here for Y/N but you’re cool too.’ Harry would end up acting like a complete narcissist, “I believe the name of the tour is Harry Styles love on tour, not Y/N Styles. It’s my show, come for me and only me!” The crowd would burst out in laughter causing you to blow kisses to the audience. “Look you guys are making my wife conceited.” You would mouth sorry to him with a smile on your face, laughing at all the reactions across the room. “Alright, we are changing the name to Y/N Styles love on tour. Happy wife, happy life.”  
5. flowers
This gesture was something that was private between you two. Each time Harry would catch a bouquet of flowers he would quietly hold it up in the air, notifying you he caught some for you. He placed it somewhere safe on stage where it would remain intact. Each flower that ended up being on stage went to you. Flowers were dedicated to you. Fans of course didn’t know this, because he would give them to you after shows. How did this all start you may ask? When you started dating Harry you were at a more difficult time in your life. He happened to fall into your life when you were in your last year of college. You couldn’t make it to each show, but when you did Harry was appreciative of the sacrifice that you were making to be there. He cherished that you treated him as a priority and never made him feel guilty for taking that extra stretch for him. To show you his appreciation, on your one-year anniversary; He surprised you with a gift that at first you didn’t really understand, but he explained. It was a cluster of different pressed, preserved flowers. Once he explained that each flower represented all the shows you attended. You broke down in tears, and knew that you would be marrying him. Now that you were married, he would always and forever dedicate flowers to you.
another little 12am blurb i thought of. i hoped you enjoyed. 💌
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sytoran · 2 months
𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐎𝐈𝐑 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘 ⌇ wanda maximoff
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boudoir photography: (.n) a photographic style featuring intimate, sensual, romantic, and sometimes erotic images of its subjects.
☰ PAIRING: sub! collegestudent! wanda x dom! G!P professor!reader
☰ REQUEST: I do have a prompt idea, subcollegestudent!wanda x domteacher!reader... where readers assigns an assignment that requires taking pictures that students have to sumbit for there final or something. Wanda submits a photo of her naked... reader gets flustered and holds her back after class and maybe reader tells wanda to meet them somewhere (an apartment or hotel) and then yeah reader fucks the shit out of wanda (sorry), also maybe G!P reader and some kinks like breeding, being tied up etc, whatever youre comfortable with and feel free to add your own touch.
☰ TAGS: college!au, lesbian sex, G!P, you're like the hot professor, and wanda is horny af, you can guess how that ends, bondage, breeding kink, professor kink, elements of brat-taming, mentions of reader smoking but i don’t condone smoking irl, shit eats your lungs up but its hot in fiction (to a certain extent), wanda is obsessed with your hands, sadism, degradation kink, humiliation kink
☰ NOTES: this is like 3k words just a warning
masterlist / AO3
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albeit it might seem arrogant, you were quite aware of the fact that you were attractive.
in your defense, it was incredibly hard not to notice.
enrolling into the prestigious avengers college as a psychology professor with no less than two PhDs, you were quickly classified into the category of ‘the cool and funny one who’s too hot to be a professor’. those words weren’t yours, just for clarification.
the first time you walked into your class, donning a casual suit, laptop tucked under a thick arm of muscle that fabric didn’t conceal, your peripheral vision exposed the dropped jaws of female students and the impressed eyes of the male ones. 
stunned silence at your strangely stark presence quickly turned into sheer admiration when you did your little introduction. whenever you tried to make eye contact with the students to be engaging, you were almost always guaranteed a flirty wink from the ladies. you nearly choked several times.
it didn’t help that your face was a little too good-looking, or that your smirk was a little too sexy. so when you started the lecture, it was plainly obvious that none of them were actually paying attention to the lesson, but more so you. 
word spread fast, and soon it seemed like every student in avengers’ college wanted to sign up for professor l/n’s psychology class.
however, as much as the attention filled your pride, none of your students ever did quite catch your eye like a certain redheaded one.
human relationships, personal identity, interpersonal communication, perception, creativity. they helped to explain how we, as humans, create visual images, how we share them, and how people react to what they see.
though an expert in this field, you don’t think you would ever really be able to put into words the emotions you felt, when you saw wanda maximoff’s submission for her finals.
dear god.
when you said there was a photography assignment that would cost about 40% of the final grade, you presumed it meant well-thought-out imageries of subjects that represented the current state of one’s psychological wellbeing.
not this. certainly not this. nothing could have ever prepared you for this.
wanda maximoff, the redheaded student you held an inexplicable attraction towards, in a set of some of the most erotically compromising positions you had ever seen. 
the first image she had submitted was of herself in a skirt that was far too tiny to leave anything to the imagination, black fishnet stockings tightly hugging sinful thighs, sitting on her knees. 
the second image had wanda in a dark room, the only illumination being the moonlight from outside her window. the minimal lighting fell on her side, bringing light to a generous cleavage. wanda was cleverly and outragingly positioned so that the darkness prevented you from seeing more.
and the third image, god, the third image. it was a sight you would never forget. the redhead was dressed in nothing, sprawled out on her bed, one hand shoved up her pussy, the other probably holding the camera. 
wanda’s face was contorted into an expression of euphoria, on the brink of an orgasm. pretty eyes glassy and her mouth slightly open, of which you swore you could hear her needy moans of release. 
to add insult to injury, the camera was angled just so you could see a hint of wet, pink, folds, but not quite nearly enough to fully capture the entirety of her beauty, leaving you on the edge of precipice to crave more.
you stiffened in your seat, still in the middle of grading of the submissions during class. you swallowed, trying not to let it show. without looking up, you could feel those mischievous viridescent eyes on you.
while it was undeniably wrong, these were the most captivating, alluring, and entrapping images you had ever laid your experienced eyes upon.
“see me after class, ms. maximoff.” you said, as calmly as you could, voice only a touch rougher than usual.
“yes, professor,” wanda said back, ‘professor’ rolling off her tongue in a manner far too seductive to be respectful. you gripped the paper a little harder. 
nearly an hour rolled past with strained silence, unbeknownst to the rest of the class. you waited patiently as the students filed out, watching wanda shove her friends playfully at their playful teasing, before waving goodbye as she walked up to you.
but you decided to leave her hanging, not making any move to speak. wanda was waiting for you to say anything, to do anything. 
by the expression on your face, it looked like you were going to bend her over the table and take her right then and there, but while it was a desire rooted deeply in her heart, wanda knew you would never do that. you were an enigma of your own accord, too gentlemanly to be brash with your actions, but too dangerous to be undermined.
you were smart, obviously, calculated in everything that you did. but beyond that was an effortlessly alluring aura that drew everyone towards you like a moth a flame, wanda being no exception from the rule.
so when those calculated began scanning over her body, not in greedy lust but in the knowing acknowledgment that it was yours, wanda felt the inevitable wetness pool in her panties. the flush blossomed on her cheeks, spreading to her ears and her neck.
your eyes rested on her thighs, the ones that had been clad in stockings in the photo, your imagination running wild but your exterior ever-collected. wanda felt her thighs clench, and you licked your lips for a fraction of a second.
it seemed like an eternity of thick tension spreading across the expanse of the room, just her and you in a little bubble of forbidden desires better left unsaid.
then you absent-mindedly began typing on your laptop, not even half of your attention paid on wanda anymore. the redhead stiffened, wondering how you could’ve been so careless in that very moment.
but she caught sight of the paper that had been slipped to her previously. a slip with a neatly-written address, a time below it.
“it’s for you,” you pointed out offhandedly, finally, not even giving her a second glance.
nevertheless, wanda saw the slightest hint of a smirk tugging at your lips, and she felt the excitement bubble. or maybe it was something less innocent than excitement.
you stayed seated under your desk as she left, eyes burning into the back of wanda’s head, noting her flushed dizziness and the entrancing sway of pretty hips.
it was till she was gone that you let out a deep groan, spreading your legs and leaning back, having hidden a throbbing erection in your pants for nearly an hour.
it was 4 p.m. when wanda arrived at the hotel, her legs bouncing with excitement.
high heels clicked against marble tiling, hands shifting to tug down the incredibly short dress she had chosen. the air-conditioning was cold against bare skin, raising goosebumps.
the hotel you had chosen was expensive, the particular unit tucked away in some ungodly frivolous suite. wanda wasn’t sure how many zeroes you had spent on her.
but beyond all that, she was nervous. even though you were the object of her wet dreams encased in dapper black suits, you were still a professor, after all.
she took a deep breath, checking the unit number for the hundredth time before rapping on the door sharply. 
wanda held her breath, wondering if you would even open the door. maybe it was wrong to trust you so foolishly. to crave and want someone she was forbidden to love.
“come in,” called a voice from inside, raspy with something wanda couldn’t quite pinpoint, but definitely turned on by.
your breath caught in your throat when you laid your eyes on wanda. 
she was dressed in a juniper-green silk dress, one that clung to all the right curves. brilliantly crimson lipstick only magnetized all your attention to soft lips, ripe for the taking.
"hi," wanda murmured softly, stopping right before you. her eyes raked over your less formal figure, manspreading as you sat on the edge of the king-sized bed. 
what captured her attention was a cigarette resting between your lips, being toyed with by two fingers. wanda didn't exactly mind, only further turned on at the sight of a partially unbuttoned blouse.
you hummed in response, extending your arms in a gesture to grasp her hips. wanda flushed at your straightforwardness, swallowing at the sight of long, ring-adorned fingers.
stepping closer to let you pull her into your personal space, wanda sighed in relief, relaxing into your touch.
using a free hand to press chaste kisses on the back of her knuckles, you grunted when wanda gently scraped painted nails on the sharpness of your jawline. 
unspoken words between gentle caresses quickly became rougher gropes of bare skin, your impatience getting the better of you at wanda's eagerness.
"i- i want you, please." wanda whispered, palming at the erection in your pants. 
"are you sure?" you voiced again, almost as if foreshadowing what could ensue. "i can- i can be a bit, well, rough."
wanda shook her head, swallowing when your hands roamed further southward. "i like it rough, professor."
then your hands were cupping her ass, pulling the redhead down onto your lap. gauging her reaction with watchful eyes, you wrapped a hand around her neck to pull her in.
wanda whined at the touch of your hand on her neck, squirming in your lap when you let out a puff of smoke into her mouth. her eyes got hazy as you rested a thumb on her bottom lip, tracing mindlessly.
the taste of the smoke made her dizzy, her breathing clogged for a moment when you began kissing her. gasping needily for oxygen, she tried to pull away.
but you were adamant in getting what you wanted, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, as wanda clawed at your exposed skin with shaky moans.
soon enough, the kiss was all tongue and teeth, clashing with fervency. you tilted your head to let your tongue slide between her soft lips, and wanda let out a moan that reverberated in your ears.
"please," she whined, tugging at the back of your shirt, taut with the expanse of expensively crafted muscles.
"i don't think so, miss maximoff," you responded with a breath of escapism, low decibels making her ears blush. "misbehaving today, hm?"
“i don’t know, maybe you should punish me first.” wanda replied almost instantaneously, haughty but with an air of brattiness that you wanted to fuck out of her.
your eyes narrowed, hands trailing over her pretty thighs, then slapping it roughly, making her jolt with a gasp. “maybe i should.” you murmured hotly, the kisses on her collarbone turning downright possessive.
wanda moaned, hips jerking against your crotch area. you groaned, hastily flipping her over onto your bed. effectively trapping her in, with knees on either side of her lithe figure, you didn’t think you had ever seen a more breathtaking sight.
"you alright with bondage?" you breathily asked, pupils dilating at wanda's hazy eyes of arousal. the fight she had in her earlier seemed to dissipate with each passing second you denied her of pleasure.
wanda nodded eagerly at the suggestion, tilting her head to suck at your fingers, tongue trailing around the cold metal of your rings. 
you bit back a guttaral growl. "let go," you muttered, gaze tearing into her pliant mouth still sucking. wanda seemed to ignore you, only taking two fingers further down her throat, letting out a pretty gag.
"let go," you repeated again, slower, in disbelief at how disobedient wanda could be. but you shouldn't have been surprised, for she had quite literally sent her professor nudes for her finals. 
“...you’re a fuckin’ brat, you know?”
“mhm, you should fuck it outta me.”
sooner than wanda thought physically feasible, you had her wrists bound by handcuffs, pinned to the headboard. the restraints allowed for minimal movement, but not nearly enough to satiate the redhead’s unrelenting need for alleviation.
you let your hands roam over her exposed body, now barren of clothing. she was divine, in every state of matter, with or without.
“you remember the first image?” you quizzed, hovering above wanda’s restrained form. she tried to reach for you, to touch and feel, but the only thing she was greeted with was cold metal of handcuffs.
"what image?" wanda gasps, her whine breaking off into a shrill shriek of pleasure when your lips wrap around her cute, stiff nipple.
"don't play innocent," you reprimanded with a dangerous seriousness. pulling down your pants, wanda ogled at the sight of your huge cock straining against the pants of your boxers. then you pulled that off, too, letting it spring free, and wanda wondered how the hell it was going to ever fit inside her.
but her train of thought was halted by a harsh slap to her thighs. you seemed to like that, watching porcelain turn crimson, watching the shake of the ass in its aftermath.
"you know the first image," you begin, sliding your cock against her wet folds. wanda cries, groping for you, fighting against the cuffs. "the one with the tight stockings, and the little skirt."
your practiced self-restraint left wanda a bumbling mess, cock brushing against her clit in the slightest. it was so frustrating yet satisfying to be bound by the cuffs, denying her of pleasure yet giving her that in abundance.
"you got all dressed up for me?" you hummed with a satisfied grin at her state of duress. "such a whore, mhm?"
"i- i'm not - ah! - m'not a whore- f-fuck," wanda fell apart at your commanding jurisdiction, like she had been subjected to imprisonment within your unrelenting hold.
"but you are," you insisted, letting your cock enter her dripping cunt in the slightest, then pulling out. "so wet, fuck."
wanda let out a disparaged cry, as you smirked. "and the second image." you continued. "you remember that?"
wanda nodded frantically, the cuffs on her wrist leaving red marks in its wake. she knew better than to disobey you now, to let her brattiness be the cause of that loss of euphoric pleasure.
"i remember, professor. i'm s-sorry. please-"
before wanda could even finish her sentence of wailed apologies, you slid your cock into her properly, as wanda let out a moan so pornographic she looked divine.
the redhead undulated her hips frantically against that little bit of friction, chasing her high as you pulled out yet again. "you sure you're sorry?" you questioned. "'cos i don't remember telling you to fuck yourself on me like a little slut."
"fill me up, professor, please," wanda begged.
"oh, i don't think so, miss maximoff," you said dryly, plucking at her nipple so harshly she screamed. "not until you tell me about that third picture. so fuckin' needy, huh? what if i just reported it to school's authorities? then you'd be expelled 'cos you were all too whorish for your professor." 
wanda thrashed under you, fighting against the handcuffs in a futile attempt, as you began sucking on a hardened nipple. "just wanted to take your pups, please. please, i need it." she rambled, gasps and moans escaping her divine lips.
your unrelenting tempo of cruel erotica left wanda a mindless mess of babbles and she was so, so wet. 
you stole away orgasm after orgasm, and wanda cried at each lost, knowing she had brought it upon herself. 
"please, please, please, i need you inside now." she whimpered.
but your patience had soon run thin, and you could never feasibly deny such a breathtaking woman before you, so you finally gave in to her desires.
your grip on her hips so harsh wanda was sure it would bruise the next day. the thought of going back to school and seeing you at your desk with the knowledge that her body was yours made her shiver, but then that thought was thrown out the window when you entered her.
"oh, fuck," you cursed, eyes wide, a breathy rasp in your voice that was ear candy for wanda.
the redhead had taken the entirety of your cock in her hungry pussy on the first thrust, velvet walls hugged around you so wet and hot you never wanted free reign again.
"professor," wanda's pathetic little mewl had your grip on her hips tightening. 
"you're soaked." you groaned out, shifting inside her to make yourself comfortable. the redhead thrashed again at your actions, and you had to shove two fingers in her mouth to shut her up.
the familiar feeling of cold metal against her tongue had wanda relaxing for the slightest, but you took that opportunity to begin fucking her like it was the last thing on earth you would do.
again and again, using her like a little doll, releasing your healthy amounts of seed into her gaping pussy as she begged to be bred.
orgasm after orgasm, as wanda cried your name, as you marked her with sharp teeth and even sharper thrusts.
over and over, until the hotel room reeked of sex, and the both of you were covered in slick and sweat, and until the management security came knocking on your door.
it was 2 a.m. when wanda left the hotel, her legs barely able to move.
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taglist: @simp4wanda26 @natashamaximoff69 @ohsugar-honey-iced-tea @fayhar @bibliophilicbi @screechcat @rowanyaboats @nahnahnahwhat @the-night-owl-blr @anouwi @wannabe-fic-reader @natsxwife @matchasrad
this took way too long lmao also i loved the contrast between “it was 4pm when wanda arrived at the hotel, her legs bouncing with excitement.” and “it was 2am when wanda left the hotel, her legs barely able to move.” it’s a parallel i thought was pretty cool so hopefully yall noticed that detail too :o
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6sakusa · 2 months
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Synopsis: In which you’re a dancer for the world renowned band Paradis’ tour & the leader and golden boy Eren Jaeger has taken quite a liking to you, he’s been waiting to get his hands on you, for months. It looks like today is his lucky day.
This is based on my rockstar!eren headcanons which you can also read here.
CW: Heavy smut, dry humping, oral, penetration, mentions of virginity loss, hints of infidelity, Eren being manipulative & toxic.
A/N: Take this as a thank you for 1000 followers!
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“Y/n, Jaeger’s here for you again.” Nanaba, your dance couch for Paradis’ tour points behind her with a slack expression on her face. She’s clearly unimpressed by the brunette devil sporting a smirk on his lips, his beautifully deep teal eyes drag to yours in such amusement that you almost wish you could read his mind. His hair is tied back in his signature style of course — albeit the stray hairs that somehow frame his face perfectly and God you could talk about those eyelashes for days. If there was one thing you knew about the lead vocal for Paradis it was that he was beautiful and admittedly every time he got you out of dance practice it felt wrongly exciting.
“You know you can’t keep stealing my best dancer right? I kinda need her to know the choreography for your songs.” She turns to face him, there’s a dangerous smile lingering on his lips while his hands are pushed deeply into his pockets.
“Just this once.” He promises, it’s a lie and that shouldn’t surprise you.
“That’s what you say everytime.” Nanaba rolls her eyes, “What do you want her for anyway?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He lets out a breathy laugh while leaning against the wall behind him, something lights up in his eyes as you walk over though you and Nanaba share the same expression, unimpressed.
“She’s right.” You back the head choreographer for two reasons. 1) She’s extremely scary when she wants to be, the majority of that includes the next time she sees you after Eren pulls you away. 2) You’d already missed a countless amount of practices due to the boy anyway. Though it was hard to say no, not when he was the sole reason you were on this tour anyway. Besides, Nanaba knows what he says goes, he’s not necessarily her superior but the second Paradis’ star boy starts whining about how he doesn’t like her she’d be gone, that wasn’t something she could afford.
“You’re good at what you do.” He says, pushing himself off the wall. He’s so convinced you’ll come with him because he knows you, you’re friends at this point and that means you’re aware that he never takes no for an answer. “So you’ll have no problem catching up.”
“Come on Eren—“
“Please?” He interrupts, here he goes pulling out the big guns. As if on cue a dejected expression appears on his face, he pouts slightly while gazing down at you longingly. He grabs your arm, tugging you to come along with him.
“Why are you like this?” You sigh, giving Nanaba a sorry look but how could she blame you? You were in the same boat as her, neither of you had the power to say no to Eren Jaeger, and chances are he wouldn’t let you.
As usual the other girls in practice whisper amongst themselves, always speculating between the relationships you and Eren had. The most popular theory was that you were fucking of course but as they’d told you a million times it was nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, you should wear it on your forehead as a sign of pride but the simple fact was that it just wasn’t true. You were friends, and he only wanted to be friends, right?
“Can’t help it.” He murmurs, dipping down so that his lips are practically grazing your earlobe, “I’m lonely without you.”
“If you keep saying stuff like that people will get the wrong idea.” You hit him lightly on the shoulder, much to his amusement.
He cracks a grin, leaning forwards so only you could catch his words. “If you don’t come with me now then I’ll definitely give them the wrong idea.” It’s a threat that he intends to go through with, you know Eren which means you know it’s never a good idea to call his bluff.
You gulp, nodding with agreement. “Okay fine but this is the last time.”
He chuckles to himself, turning on his heel. He’s already eager to get out of here. Truthfully, the only time he has any interaction with Nanaba, or any of the dancers for that matter is when he comes to watch you. He won’t lie, he’s done some fucked up things to the sight of you dancing, so much so that if he told you he’s sure you’d run for the hills but he can’t help it. Sometimes he burns your movement into his memories so he can jerk off to it the same day, the thought of you moving against him like that was exciting. However, you’ve proven that it’s harder to get into your pants than he would’ve anticipated, no wonder you were a virgin. At times he thought it was more hassle than it was worth but the moment he saw your pretty face again he was sold. He knew he had to have you.
“I’ll practice it later, I swear.” You sport your coach one last bashful smile despite the annoyed look on her face before catching up with the reason for all your troubles. Like it wasn’t hard enough being away from home touring with Paradis, to make matters worse Eren was constantly putting the few bonds you did have here with people on the rocks.
“Where are we going?”
“My dressing room.” He replies like he’s been anticipating your question, he’s got a look on his face that reminds you of an angel but you know better than that, it’s a facade.
“And why’s that?”
“Got a new strand of weed, thought you might wanna try.” He glances down at you as you fall into step besides him. He thinks this position suits you, next to him. “Unless you stopped smoking — already?” His tone is challenging and it annoys you, it annoys you because of course you’d want to prove him wrong. He’s the one that got you hooked on this shit in the first place even though you told him it wasn’t a good idea for a dancer to smoke. You needed all the stamina you could get.
“You know I haven’t.” You say meekly, your gaze falling to the ground. He loved that, loved knowing how much he’s corrupted you. Is it filthy? Maybe. Did he care? Not one bit.
He laughs lightly as you make your way through the back rooms. You’re never at one venue long enough to actually get used to the place, let alone know where you’re going. It made you wonder how much Eren would be wondering around and why? He’s probably taken countless girls to his dressing room already in less than the week you’ve been here.
Make no mistake, you’d been to his dressing room countless times before too. The difference was nothing more than friendly interactions would take place there between the two of you. Still, you found it hard to believe that Eren was just maintaining platonic relationships with all the girls he spoke to. But then why you? You couldn’t put your finger on it. You also couldn’t help the lingering thought in the back of your mind that you were unattractive, maybe he just didn’t wanna fuck you.
“How do you know these corridors so well?” You blurt out your thoughts while taking another turn.
He laughs to himself, looking away. “I like to explore.” Another lie. You weren’t sure if Eren was comfortable with lying so much because he thought you wouldn’t catch on or because he knew you would but he also knew you wouldn’t challenge it. You had a feeling it was the second one. Maybe he liked the exert this twisted sense of power over you.
Eventually, his hand turns one of the door knobs and you step into his dressing room. It’s almost the same as all the rest, almost. It has a clothing rack with whatever his stylists have decided will be best for the three performances they have here, a leather couch against the wall with a coffee table just opposite it and a mounted TV purely for his entertainment. The only difference is that this one has a bed, now that caused your eyebrow to raise a little. You knew that some nights Eren would rather sleep in his dressing room than the rowdy tour bus. You supposed he got a bed added for that reason, you couldn’t see him and all his 6ft2 glory fitting on that couch anyway.
Though, much to your surprise Connie, Jean and Armin were here. You’d had interactions with them multiple times, particularly Jean who could only be described as a flirt though you weren’t sure you would consider them to be friends. Essentially, the entire band of Paradis sat in anticipation while Jean rolled one up, it was hard to feel like you weren’t intruding on something.
“Finally.” Armin collapses onto the bed, seeing the two of you walk through the door. “You’re back.”
“What took you so long?” Jean glances over at the two of you, him and Connie are situated on the couch leaving one empty spot at the very end.
Eren points behind him at you, “Nanaba was tryna be difficult with me.”
“You know you don’t have to ask for her permission right?” Connie quirks up an eyebrow, amused by your meek demeanour.
He places a hand on your back, he’s teasing you. “She likes it when I’m polite.”
Armin chuckles, “It’s nice seeing you again y/n.” The other two nod in agreement upon eyeing you head to toe. Sometimes you didn’t understand how surreal your situation was, touring with one of the biggest bands in the world, definitely the hottest members. Somehow even befriending one of them and now you were what? Going to casually light one up with Paradis?
“Yeah, real nice.” Jean is practically liking his lips. Curse you and those stupid shorts you wear for dance practice. Perhaps he ought to be more like Eren and pay you a visit or two. “Eren thinks about you too much.” Connie observes, “Pulled this out and the first thing he’s talking about is how he doesn’t want you to miss it.”
Eren takes a seat besides Jean, you stand there awkwardly not sure where you’re supposed to go.
“Come.” He taps his lap lightly while ignoring Connie’s comment, gesturing you to sit on it. Naturally your eyes widen and of course he finds it amusing. He smiles, looking at his other bandmates. “It’s not a big deal, right guys?” They nod routinely and you swallow whatever is stuck in your throat before slowly walking over and taking a seat. Eren has a satisfied grin as you try to situate yourself, you don’t expect him to place both his hands on your hips, holding you down.
“Who wants to go first?” Jean asks while Connie holds a lighter to the blunt. Across the room you see Armin close the window, they intend to hotbox, great. Looks like you wouldn’t be practicing later today after all.
“Ladies first.” Eren taps your thigh, Jean hands it over to you, they all watch intently as you take the first hit. “Look, she doesn’t even cough anymore.” Eren teases while rubbing your back, the others laugh while you blow out the smoke.
“Sorry.” You say shyly, “I think I got lipgloss on it.” They all wave you off hearing a string of it’s fine and it’s okays fill up the air. You hand it back to Jean and allow it to rotate around the room. It doesn’t take many hits for you all to get high, now you’re putty in Eren’s hands, all laughing and giggling while you run your fingertips down his chiselled chest talking about whatever nonsense the topic of discussion was.
You feel like you’re zoning in and out of reality leaning into the crook of Eren’s neck while he’s got an arm draped around your waist. Connie and Armin are engrossed in their own conversation while him and Jean talk amongst themselves. “Wanna share whats left?” Jean asks, but he’s not looking at the blunt, he looks between you and Eren. A devilish smile is on his lips and you can’t really discern what he means because there is nothing left to share.
You feel a chuckle reverberate against Eren’s chest, he shakes his head lightly. “Not this time, I’ve been dreaming about this one.”
“Oh I get it.” Jean grins, he places a hand on your thigh before speaking up once more, “It was nice seeing you y/n, you should come around more. Don’t wait for Eren to invite you.” He begins standing up, Connie and Armin glance at eachother, seemingly having some shared understanding as they stand too.
“Bye guys.” You wave, looking up at them through those pretty eyelashes of yours and for a second Jean almost considers saying fuck it to Eren but he doesn’t. They trail out slowly, all leaving some lingering touches on your body until it’s just you and Eren left.
You figure now is a good time to climb out of his lap but he holds your hips in place, “Where are you going? You don’t wanna keep me warm?” He asks, it’s a whisper against your neck and it sends all types of goosebumps crawling down your body.
You giggle, your brain is too fogged up to think straight. “Erenn.” You drag out his name while he flips you over so that you’re straddling him. Once he gets a look at your face he knows there’s no use trying to conceal the hard on in his pants.
“Hmm?” He hums, running his hand up and down your thigh. He’d been working on this for months, literal months. Now that he had you right where he wanted you there was no way he was letting you slip away. Today, it was now or never.
“What does this tattoo mean?” You snuggle your head in his chest, the weed is making you slightly tired.
“This one?” He glances between you and the art on his body. He smiles to himself, his eyes trailing off somewhere. “I’ll tell you another time.” Seeing how you were on the verge of literally falling asleep there was no time for him to waste talking about absolute nonsense. He needed you today, now.
“You always say that.” You whine, hitting him lightly. You can tell he’s amused from the airy laugh that escapes his nose. “I tell you everything about me but you never tell me about you.”
“Yeah?” His eyebrows quirk up, “You tell me everything like what? That you’re a virgin? You don’t drink? You were too scared to smoke?” He’s mocking you, you know that he is but he does it so sweetly while brushing some hair out of your face.
“You remember that?” You ask, of course he remembers. It’s all he thinks about when he sees you. That you’re untouched, pure, you probably don’t know how to make yourself feel good. He wants nothing more than to destroy you, corrupt you even. Whenever he sees you he gets hard, so hard. He knows that you feel it, the bulge prodding against your shorts but you haven’t said a word. You’d never sat on a mans lap before, you assumed it was normal and that drove him insane.
“I listen to the things you tell me.” He smiles, it’s so easy to think he cares, that he’s just a concerned friend and nothing more. “On the bright side that’s one down.”
“One down?” You raise an eyebrow.
“Yeah, you’ve smoked now so what’s left? A couple drinks and losing your virginity? Seems easy enough.”
You look away, “I still haven’t found the right guy.”
“Oh yeah? What happened to your little boyfriend?”
“W-We’re on a break.” You mutter, embarrassed. Now it makes sense, you hadn’t mentioned him in a while and Eren wasn’t sure why considering when the two of you first met he was all you would talk about. He respected it though, he’d fucked enough girls with boyfriends that he thought it was rare to find someone like you.
“A break?” He chuckles, “So you’re not together anymore?” Everything was coming together perfectly.
“We are, I’m meeting him tomorrow to talk about it, we just had and argument.” Your voice trails off, it’s obvious you don’t want to talk about the situation between you and your boyfriend but of course Eren can’t help his curiosity.
“So you two have never—?”
“Why not? He’s your boyfriend, isn’t that the right guy?”
“I don’t know.” You mumble.
“You poor thing.” He says, pushing you further down against his crotch. He was close, so close. “You don’t know what it’s like to feel good.”
“F-Feel good?”
“Yeah you know from sex, or are you afraid to talk about that too?” He teases, he’s about to have you right where he wants you and he can taste it.
“I’m not I just — I don’t know, maybe it’ll happen one day and I can feel good too.”
His eyes widen before he catches his composure. He’s got you now hook, line and sinker.
“You know.” He begins, “I bet I could make you feel good.”
“Just a suggestion, you’re my friend of course I’d help you out where I can.” There’s a smirk on his lips. Damn him and his stupidly perfect features. And fuck the weed you’ve both consumed that’s clouding your senses.
“I-I don’t know.” You become nervous, retracting from him a little.
“Come on, I’ll be good to you, so good I promise.” He’s just able to hold back from bucking up into you but he’s not sure how long he’ll last.
“You will?”
“I swear.” He places a hand on his heart.
“But my boyfriend—“
“You guys are on a break, you’re not together. Think about him and all the girls he’s fucked, do you wanna be the only one with no experience?” He coos, rubbing your back. He was a starboy in two things, music and being a complete world class manipulator. Really this was getting him off even more, knowing he’d send your virgin pussy to your boyfriend tomorrow completely wrecked by him.
“What would we do?” You ask, becoming more receptive to the idea.
“Whatever you want, whatever makes you feel good.��
“I-I don’t know what I want to do.” You stammer, Gosh that makes him even harder. You really didn’t even know where to start in the sex department, he couldn’t believe it. A girl as beautiful as you, with those eyes and that dream body, how? How have you never been touched before?
“Want me to show you something?” He asks, you hesitate for a moment but end up nodding.
“Here.” He grabs your hips with both his hands, “Move against me, I’ll help you.” He rolls you against his crotch and throws his head backwards, he couldn’t take it. He needed to be inside you. It feels so good, you feel so good against him like this even with the fabric separating the two of you. You let out a whimper and his eyes shoot open to garner your expression.
“You like that?” He asks, grinding you against him harder.
“Y-Yes.” You position yourself directly above his bulge, your breath hitches with a moan as you feel it attempting to prod into you while you push against it. Your sounds are music to his ears and he can’t believe he’s actually enjoying dry humping, he feels like a virgin again.
He picks up the speed, looking up at you even though you’re seemingly lost in pleasure. “Wanna try moving by yourself baby?” He asks, he guides your arms around his neck so you can be in a secure position. You nod before picking up the pace again and he thinks he might lose his mind.
He glances down to see a dark patch forming against the crotch area of your grey shorts. Fuck you’re so wet for him and the two of you haven’t even had any skin to skin contact yet.
He lets out a moan which encourages you to go faster. “I-I feel like—“ You can hardly get the words out between your moans, there’s an unfamiliar feeling in the pit of your stomach that you can’t quite put your fingers on.
“Come on, get on my thigh.” He repositions you because he knew if you kept going he’d cum in his pants and there was only one place he was aiming to nut tonight and that was inside of you.
“Just trust me.” He says, tapping against your hips as a sign to start moving again. You don’t have the bulge prodding against your entrance but quickly the feeling returns.
“Eren—“ You moan out his name, he thought he was already rock solid but now he was so hard that it was physically hurting him to be in these constraints. He needed you so bad.
“What is it baby?” He asks, watching you move against him, your shorts were practically drenched at this point.
“I think I’m gonna—“
“You’re gonna cum? Do it, for me.” Something snaps in your stomach at his words and euphoria washes over you, you’re seeing white while he continues to move your hips allowing you to ride out your high. You’re moaning uncontrollably before practically collapsing into his chest once you’re done.
“Fuck.” He says eyes wide while rubbing your back, “Think that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Really?” You mutter against his shoulder blade, breathless.
“Yeah shit.” He glances down, pulling at the waistband of your shorts. “You’re drenched for me.”
“That felt good.” You say, pulling away from his chest so he can get a better look at your lower half.
“Yeah?” He finds it amusing, so much so that he let’s out a small chuckle. “I told you so, didn’t I?”
“What else can you do?” Fuck you were so eager for him, so eager for him to make you feel good he couldn’t believe it.
“You’re so greedy.” He says while picking you up before placing you down on the bed that Armin was on just minutes before. This all felt so wrong, so dirty but you wanted it all the same, wanted it so bad.
“I can show you something else.” He cages you underneath him, pressing his lips against your neck while be sucked on it. It didn’t even take a minute for him to find your sweet spot, to have you whimpering and squirming underneath him. “Do you want me to?” He whispers against your earlobe.
You nod eagerly but he doesn’t take it as an answer. “Need to hear you say it.”
“Yes Eren, I want you to.”
“Good.” He pulls away, burning the mental image of you sprawled out on the bed, peering up at him expectantly into his mind. Fuck he wishes he could take a picture and cherish this for ages, he’d jack off to it daily if he could.
Slowly, you watch as he tugs against your waistband, slowly pulling your shorts down until your lace panties are all that are in his way. “Look at you.” He whispers, he’s talking to himself more than he is to you. “So pretty, I knew it. Better than what I imagined.” He’s practically salivating as he moves your underwear to the side, faced with your bare pussy.
You hide your face out of nervousness, “You’ve been thinking about me?”
He pushes your hands to the side, wanting nothing more to see your face while he deals with you. “Do you want the truth?” He asks, his fingers dip down into your wetness, brushing over your clit. A light moan escapes your mouth before you nod. “I’ve been thinking about this for months, I wanted to fuck you ever since I laid eyes on you. Touched myself to you more times than you could know.”
Your breath hitched, the way he was speaking to you was so lewd you should almost be offended but it made you want him more. You wanted him so bad that you began to clench around nothing.
“Oh you like when I speak to you like that? Noted.” He brings your own slick up to your mouth, watching you suck his fingers before he removes it, putting it into his own mouth. He gives you almost no time to recover, desperate to be back against you once more. He kisses your thighs, giving you some time to ease into the feeling of him around you so intimately like this. The thought of getting head from him drove you almost insane with anticipation.
Eventually he pulls your hips closer to him on the edge of the bed, removing your panties completely. “If I fuck you good after this, will you let me keep these?” He holds them up in the air, it’s almost embarrassing how drenched they are but you nod anyway. Anything for him to get on with it.
"Shit baby." He mutters before putting his mouth on you, you moaned instantly, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of you, this time he didn't give you a moment to ease into it which made you close your legs around him.
"Open." He demands and you oblige, you couldn't even speak in response all you could do was moan at the way he was moving against you. He added a few fingers into the mix which made you go wild. If this is what sex was like it was a bummer you hadn’t done it sooner. On the bright side, you were doing it with Eren Jaeger of all people, the Eren Jaeger, and he wasn’t shy to show you how experienced he was. He grinned at how obedient you were, for some reason there wasn't a feeling in the world that he adored more. He could die right here and be the happiest man on earth.
He places your hands in his hair, guiding you to tug and pull on it. You guessed it was probably a kink of his but you enjoyed it anyway. The way he moaned against you when you pulled at him sent vibrations throughout your body. His hairband falls loose and you can’t help but think he looks like his absolute best like this, ravishing you while somehow lost in his own pleasure.
He's got both of your plump thighs in his hands, hooked under your legs. He's almost raising you off of the bed slightly, wanting to taste every last bit of you.
"I can't, I'm gonna—" You couldn't even finish your sentence, he was too much, having no mercy on you. Tears of pleasure begun to prick your eyes while he mocks you.
"You're gonna what? Use your words gorgeous." He looks up at you between your legs, your head is tilted back, eyes contorted in pleasure. He took a mental note of it, in all his years of living it was the best thing he'd ever seen.
"I'm gonna cum ‘Ren."
"Do it" Almost as if it was on command you came unravelled there, you were practically seeing stars. If it wasn't for you pulling him away by his hair he would've kept ravaging you, he couldn't help it, couldn't get enough of you.
He leaned in again to kiss you, he wanted you to taste yourself, to pay back the treat you'd given him, "Fuck." You said once you'd caught your breath, he chuckled at your disheveled state before sitting up slightly.
“What do you think your boyfriend would say if he could see you now?” He cocks his head to the side playfully. “Do you think you belong to him?”
You shake your head, “No.”
“Then who do you belong to?”
The corner of his lips tug upwards. “Good girl, you’ve been so good for me.” He begins to unbuckle his belt as you watch intently. You could already see the his hard on through his black jeans but as soon as they were off you practically gasped. His print was evident through his boxers and to say he was massive was an understatement.
You watch as he begins palming himself through his boxers, as if he wasn’t already hard enough. “What do you say, you wanna touch?” You lean forward, running your hands up and down his clothed shaft and you hear him groan lowly.
“Fuck tell me you’re ready for me baby — been wanting this for ages.”
“I’m ready.” The moment the words come out of your mouth he pins you against the bed, once he pulls his boxers down his cock springs free and your eyes widen. It's even larger than you thought it would be. It's pretty, tanned just up until his tip which was pink. You could see the vein running along the side and genuinely asked, “Will that fit?”
“Gonna make it fit.” He throws his head back as he drags it through your folds, feeling your wetness warm him up makes him go crazy. You squirm underneath him, the base of his cock grazes over your clit more than once. “All the things I wanna do to you.” He whispers, “Gonna fuck you like crazy, I’ll be so good to you.”
“P-Please Eren, I want it, I want you.”
“Say it again.” He dips his head down so his ear is against your mouth, he wants to hear you crystal clear.
“I want you—“ You’re interrupted by the intrusive feeling of his head passing by your folds. It hurts, it hurts more than you can imagine as he pushes deeper inside of you. He’s moaning as he pushes into you you’re not sure why.
“Shit baby you’re so tight, too tight.” He groans, knitting his eyebrows together like he’s concentrating on not doing something.
“Ren it hurts.” You say, unintentionally clenching around him further.
“Wait don’t—“ Before he can finish his sentence you hear him whimper against your neck, something warm starts spilling inside of you and your eyes widen at his light moans. It takes an entire minute for him to realise whats just happened as he pulls away and out of you slowly.
“Did you just—“ You look down, seeing white seed spilling out of you.
His cheeks grow hot while he takes in the sight before him. Fuck another kink he didn’t even know he had, now he wants to breed you. “Why are you looking at me like that? It’s your fault.” He says with exasperation, “Why’d you grip me so hard?”
“What? I-I’m not, didn’t mean to.” You mumble, unsure of what he means. Was this supposed to happen? Considering this was your first time doing this you didn’t know how embarrassing this was for Eren and he was grateful for it. He’d never came just from entering a girl alone, then again he’d never fucked anyone as tight as you. This was going to be harder than he thought. You’d made him reach his high in record time and fuck did it feel good.
“It’s okay, I’ll forgive you this time.” He says, lining himself up against your entrance again, “Try to loosen up baby please, I wanna fuck you.” He begs, you’re not sure what he wants you to do. You’re as wet as you could be right now.
He pushes himself in once more though slower this time, his girth made it a little painful at first and he recognised that. He knows it hurts and he’s trying to give you the time to adjust but his patience is just running so thin. You hissed, your back arching against the bed while he coaxes you into calming down by pressing kisses against your face.
You winced a little causing him to rub your temple, "Just a little more okay? You can take it." You nodded as he pushed in a little further, a moan escaping from your lips. He settled for a moment after bottoming out, bringing his lips to yours to distract you from the pain once again. A tear escaped your eye and he places a kiss on it but you could feel his dick twitching inside of you. He liked seeing you cry.
“You can move.” You say, he wastes no time picking up the pace, fucking himself into you. He loved this, you were like his tight little fuck doll, he was putting everything into not cumming again. Eventually the pain subsides into pleasure for you and you can hardly form a coherent thought at the way he’s hitting all the right spots.
"You still need to loosen up for me." He says between moans, while thrusting into you like there was no tomorrow. He was so much more vocal than you would’ve expected but you loved it, you loved being fucked by Eren Jaeger.
"I-I have." Your sweet voice almost cracks between the pleasure. Squeezing him a little tighter as he talks to you. It wasn’t your fault, you weren’t doing it on purpose.
You can feel him laugh, muttering against your neck, "Think you might just be too tight, fucking virgin.” He mutters the last part but you still catch it.
"Think your dicks too big." You shoot back but he continues anyway. He begun experimenting with the angles, knowing he's found your G-spot with one particular moan from you.
"Shit, faster Eren." You asked causing him to grin to himself, your wish was his command. He was still cautious that he didn't want to hurt you but he was picking up the pace to the point where you wondered what kind of stamina this man had. If he'd asked you anything now there was no way you'd be able to formulate a single world, your head was in the clouds.
“You’re a fucking selfish bitch you know that?” He asks between the lewd sound of slapping filling the air. “Keeping this pussy from me for so long.” He slaps your clit and you’re so sure that the entire building could hear you at this point but he didn’t care, you were sure of it. “Shit you’re mine, all mine you hear me?”
You don’t respond, letting him fuck you into the clouds. “I’m talking to you.” He brings you back to earth, his hands surrounding themselves around your throat relentlessly.
“I-I’m yours.” You struggle to get the words out but do it eventually.
“Good girl, you gonna let me cum in this pussy again aren’t you? Gonna let me do it inside?” His tone is questioning but his words are a demand, he’s going to do it whether you like it or not.
“Yes ‘Ren.”
He hums with satisfaction before grabbing your hand and placing it on your clit while he continues to thrust into you, “Come, touch yourself.”
Your hands freeze and eyebrows knit together, you’ve got no clue what to do and that becomes painfully obvious to him. “Need some help?” He places your thumb on your clit while putting his own over it, moving them both in a circular motion.
“What? Too much?” You’re babbling incoherently and he’s beyond amused, you’re practically creaming on his dick and he knows that all the months of waiting was worth it. This was the best pussy he’s ever had.
The familiar knot is back in your stomach but you can’t bring yourself to warn him this time, he only knows it once you start clenching around him uncontrollably. “Oh fuck.” His moans slice through your own. Your high sends him into his own estacy, no amount of focus could stop this from happening when you were this tight around him. He came so hard, harder than he ever had before, squirts of cum filled you up and you could feel it continue to pile on even when you'd thought it had stopped. His deep moans resounded the room, he sounded amazing.
He played with your nipples while continuing to fuck the two of you into overstimulation, he didn’t care. He was drunk on this, “Can’t stop fuck I can’t stop.” He threw his head back, releasing another load into you. The next feeling was unfamiliar, you felt liquid gushing out of you and onto his bare V-line as his eyes widened. “Do it again.” He continues bucking into you, slapping his hands against your clit until you squirt some more.
Once he’d pushed himself to the absolute limit he finally slowed down, pulling out of you. Your body was shaking underneath him and you looked like you weren’t even present. “Didn’t know virgin pussy could do that.” He grins, taking in your fucked out state. Almost immediately the look on your face makes him hard again.
He attempts to line himself back up again but you’re still clenching around nothing and he knows he’s got no chance of getting back in there. “What? You need a little rest?” He perks up, he’s teasing you as usual. “Don’t care, this is my pussy now which means you’re gonna be good to me right, gonna let me go again?”
All you can do is whimper, jolting as he runs his hands over your body lightly.
“Gonna fuck you everyday from now on, you ready? This is just practice.”
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sakuraryomen01 · 2 months
Sex Exercise /Trainer Sukuna Ryomen x Reader/ [NNN Drabble]
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warnings: based on a comic called "Sexersize" . reader is a little chubby . Sukuna takes place of your partner . sex gym . working out with Sukuna as the trainer . some slight gojo x reader . Sukuna trying to stay professional about being in Gojo's place . praise . counting . orgasm denial . multiple positions . some spanking . massaging Sukuna's back and chest (same going for reader) . foreplay . doggy, missionary, cowgirl . Sukuna also asks you out on a date >< . Gojo and Getou in the end are watching .
reader: female reader; slightly chubby
plot: smut + story . reader goes to a sex gym, having no knowledge of the actually training regimen
words: 5.860k
a/n:: first off, I'm so dang srry this it so long!! I didn't intend for it to make it passed the 2k mark but it did and I still and reeling over it @[email protected];;; anyways, I hope you enjoy the delayed by a whole month and a half drabble and I hope to soon post the whole NNN drabble Masterlist soon! Expect more drabbles and other drafts too ^^
. . .
Thank you for reading this bit! Enjoy!
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Wow, so this is the gym?
Your eyes looked up at the tall building, a sign that read the name of the gymnasium. It had a modern-esque style to it that made you think it was for VIPs only, though it looked as if normal people were also allowed entry by the looks of it.
Your friend told you about it, even though she also said it was against her contract with the place.
A gym that has confidentiality contracts? This definitely must be for high-end members then..
You had decided that you'd head on over to the gym three weeks ago, when your friend had let the place's name slip, to try it out. Even though you weren't a total foodie or ate more junk than you should, you had gained some unfavory weight and had been looking for a place to work out at for the last month.
This was just your last resort though.
You weren't big on working out around others so you had tried at-home workouts. Though, during the time, it didn't really feel right and you had gained a pound in the process. And when your friend went on and on about this amazing program she had been working at, it sparked something in you.
You wanted to check the place out and see about these contracts and training regimens that your friend loved oh so dearly.
OK, here we go...
Stepping into the gym was odd.
There was a totally different aura there than you had imagined, and there was an odd odor that lingered in the air. You heard some showers running in the back, you assumed was for the clients, and low grunts and other noises you had chose to buzz into the background.
A few more steps inside and you saw a very sexy looking receptionist with his hair pulled into a tight bun and black gauge earrings.
He was dressed like a classing trainer and the sly smile on his face told you he was probably hiding something. He was kicked back in his chair with his eyes glued to his phone, texting and chatting away with someone you probably didn't know.
Anyways, his obsidian eyes trailed up from his phone and landed on you. It sent a chill that was probably visible by the man's gleeful smirk. "Oh, hello."
"H-Hello.." You mumbled, walking over towards his desk. He quickly put his feet back on the ground and placed his phone face first on the desk beside him.
"Are you a new member? A client?" He asked, his smile never fading as he took in your chubby figure. "Or, are you looking for a membership?"
"Yes, I was hoping to apply today.." Your nerves were on end, fingers fiddling with your bag straps as the receptionist stood and made his way around the counter.
"Oh? Hoping to drop a few pounds?" He teased, holding his hand out as his smile widened. "I'm Getou Suguru.. I'm a trainer here but I'm filing in as the receptionist for a co-worker today."
You took his hand and shook it, your eyes looking up at his as a blush filled your cheeks. He's so charming..
"Anyhow," Getou said, removing his hand from yours and motioning to a set of stairs a little ways away. "I'll take you upstairs, go over the contract, and then show you around before you sign. The showcasing of the gym is so you know what you're getting into before you can make a final judgment."
"O-OK, sounds good." You nod, following the sexy trainer towards the stairs as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.
"How did you hear about us?"
"Oh, uh.. I saw it scrolling through gym names and took interest."
Climbing up the stairs and heading towards an office, Getou questioned you on and on about how you found their gym and filled you in on how it's not really your average work-out. You didn't understand what he meant after he had shown you the contract, and told you the rules, until you were walking around the gym.
"Oh, my!" You exclaimed, seeing the inside of one of the dark tinted rooms.
Watching a couple going at it as a trainer stood off towards the side and clapped her hands. "One! Two! Three! Give me five more in this position and we'll move onto the next!"
"This is a sex gym, if it wasn't obvious enough," Getou muttered from behind you, turning your attention towards him.
"We do a routine that's pleasurable for the client rather than make it a hard and tiresome workout they don't even enjoy. This is far better in our opinion and we don't like to have most of the public to know about it, hence the contract.."
Lifting the clipboard he had in hand, he gave that dashing smile and chuckled. "So, do you want to apply?"
. . .
"One! Two! Three! I want to see five more in this set!"
You let out a sob as you bounced in your fitness partners lap. Your clit hitting his pelvis in such a way it made you shiver, a tingle running up your spine as your trainer asked for you to switch positions. And although you were all in on this sexual program, your eyes couldn't help but wander to the trainer you were assigned.
His name was Sukuna Ryomen, and he was drop dead gorgeous.
His pink hair normally slicked back from his pretty and handsome face. Deep brown, almost red eyes that shined when he saw your form start to lack. His body was well toned and taken the utmost care for, looking amazing in his rather loose clothing that you thought was odd for a trainer.
Still though, your eyes couldn't help but glance over to him during sessions.
He was always staring down at your breasts and body, never your face. Sukuna always said there was a rule where all the trainers should not have relations with their clients past the sessions or outside the gym. Which made sense, but there was one day that made your doubt Sukuna's words.
It was about two days after you had started the program and you and Sukuna were well acquainted with.
It was a normal missionary position with a man you never met before, but he was really pretty. Remembering being at awe with this mole he had on his cheek and his hazel eyes. He looked adorable.
After Sukuna showed your partner for the day what to do with your breasts, you were both moved onto the actual sex of the session. After putting a condom on, the man slipped inside your walls and started the set.
Wet squelching noises rang throughout the room as Sukuna counted.
"One.. two.. three.. four... five... Good, good! Keep your hands on her hips, sir! Losing your pace now is also going to cost you another set in this position!"
"R-Right! Oh, God.." Your partner moaned, his eyes shutting tight as his hips picked their pace up. The steady rhythm of his hips jutting forward making your toes curl as Sukuna watched.
The embarrassed flutter of your chest only compelled you to look over like any other day, your eyes locking with Sukuna's. Once the realization of catching him looking at your face hit, your cheeks burned and you hide it from view as Sukuna seemed to be unbothered by the small moment shared.
Though, Sukuna was indeed bothered. Hot and bothered as some would put it.
He had been staring at your face for the last few minutes and being caught in the act was a whole new level of embarrassment on his end. Sure, you were the one that was blushing and probably tearing up at the idea that your trainer was looking at you during such an intimate moment, but Sukuna was dealing with a monsterous problem.
And the rest of that session was hell to witness.
Not that the sight of you bouncing on someone's cock was the hell to witness, it was the problem he had to deal with. Sukuna's eyes always traced back up to your face and watched you orgasmed and the way your body twitched and tensed once it hit you.
It was really sexy to watch, even for Sukuna.
But after that day, he became more stern with himself and set clear rules for himself. He couldn't let a boner happen during a session again.
As the weeks passed, Sukuna's mind began focusing on the sessions like always. Walking in and seeing the receptionist back at it with a coffee mug in her hand that was probably spiked with vodka and a glossy smile on her face.
"Morning, Shoko," Sukuna said, a bow to his head as he wrote his name down on the clipboard for trainers that day. "How's the throat doing?"
"Doing good, Ryomen," She said, a tease to her tone as she spun around in her swivel chair and played with a pen.
"Y'know, Gojo's been telling me about your sessions with that cute girl, Y/n. Says he's been dying to be partnered with her and kept bothering me so I booked him a session for today, if that's fine?"
"I don't care, just make sure he brings a condom," The rather grumpy man said, lifting his duffel bag once again and heading towards the man's shower room.
There was already a few clients and trainers there that said hello, but the one that was assigned with you today was just making his way in as Sukuna got undressed.
Gojo Satoru was the owner of this sex gym and a close friend of Sukuna, sadly. Gojo was a constant bother and often loved having sex with the clients booked here, if they were hot enough and in his range.
Girls with big tits and fat asses didn't really get to him these days, and it was odd to see him go for more.. voluptuous women at the gym. And you, Sukuna's number one client, was the target.
"Oh, hello, Ryomen~" Gojo cooed, his large smile giving Sukuna a headache as he walked over. "How's my best trainer, hm? Not out fucking with some rando, right?"
"That's none of your business, thank you," Sukuna huffed, grabbing a spare towel and wrapping it around his hips. "I heard you bothered Shoko into booking you with my client.. that's rather shitty of you. Y'know I don't like looking at your cum face."
"C'mon, Ryomen don't be like that!" The white haired spawn of satan whined, his already naked form making its way behind Sukuna as he headed to the showers.
"I'm handsome and pretty, so I don't know why you don't get hard to seeing me cum!"
Sukuna gave a groan as he tossed his towel onto a nearby rack and started his shower. Grabbing some shampoo, he lathered it into his hair and started to wash his body. He closed his eyes and just pictured the session that's probably going to be happening shortly.
Gojo's cock teasing your small slit, the pink tip oozing pre into the condom as it pushed inside and stretched your pussy lips. His big hands grabbing at your tits, rubbing his finger around your nipple and teasing your clit with his other hand.
The thoughts that filled Sukuna's mind made him embarrassingly horny.
Seeing you for the last few days with other men, it had become torture. Why couldn't he get a chance to feel your insides around him? You looked like a fucking snack and he wasn't able to touch you other than for preparation during a session.
His mind wandered to the feeling of your breasts in his hands. The soft mounds that hung from your chest, squeezing and finding all the kinks and knots that needed kneading out before a session. A sigh left your fitness trainer at the idea of your plump mounds against his face, his tongue darting out to lick at the coconut oil he'd lather over your breasts.
Sukuna's cock twitched, a coo coming from beside him as Gojo pulled him back to reality.
"Ooo~ Someone's got a hard-on!" He teased, a finger wagging and pointing down at Sukuna's member.
The twitching length oozed with pre, dripping onto the tiled floor and washing down the drain. Sukuna's cheeks flushed pink as he reached over and bonked his boss, who gave a cry and whined about his complexion being ruined.
Damn, I really need to get laid huh?
Sukuna calmed himself for the next few minutes, took care of business and left the locker rooms with a fresh pair of gym clothes and let his shoes hang his fingers. He had watched Gojo hurriedly get dressed and run towards the training room where you'd meet him.
Sukuna begrudgingly followed him and slipped on his shoes before spotting you a little ways down the hall from the women's locker room.
"Hello," He said, a slight nod to his head as he walked over and greeted you.
You gave that same cute smile and followed him towards the training room. Sharing some small chat, Sukuna found out a little bit more about you. Apparently you were told that you needed to lose some weight in order to test this new drug that's going to be sold sometime soon. Regardless of his status in your life, Sukuna thought it was rather odd you needed to lose weight to test a drug. Whatever the reason, it wasn't his business.
You and Sukuna both got to the fitness session room, but Gojo wasn't anywhere to be found.
The fuck? Sukuna looked around for the white haired asshole, thinking he probably left for another gym-goer in a room nearby.
He always does this type of shit.
"Uhm, wh-where's my partner?" You asked from behind your trainer, a worried smile on your face as you sat on a tatami mat that you'd gotten used to seeing each day.
Sukuna gave a shrug and leaned against a wall, his clipboard being tapped by a pen in his hand. "He must've found another interest to train with today.."
Excuse me, what?
For the next thirty or so minutes, there was a silence building in the room as you both waited for Gojo to come into the room. Though he never came, and it was up to Sukuna to figure out today's session since there was no one else entering the gym at this time.
Sukuna glanced over at you and shook his head, turning to face the other way and pulled out his phone to dial the front desk.
"Yo," A cool voice drowned from the other line. It wasn't Shoko, it was Getou. "If you want me to change Gojo's spot there's no way I can. No one's available for your little client."
"..That was what I was going to ask for, actually," Sukuna grumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a huff. "He didn't show up to the session and it's almost been half an hour."
"Sorry to hear that," Getou responded, without a hint of actually caring. Getou didn't run the place but he was pretty high up there on the position level. He's a trainer like Sukuna, but more asked for one. "Just fill in for him! Sooner or later, Gojo's dick is going to point him in the right direction and get him there. I got to go, some fatty is wanting to join up."
"B-But.. policy. I can't do that." Glancing over his shoulder at you, Sukuna pressed his lips together and looked away. "There has to-"
"I won't tell if you don't."
And with that, Getou hung up.
With an embarrassed and strained sigh, Sukuna lifted his shirt over his head and joined you on the mat, a blush burning in your cheeks at the sudden change.
"M-Mr. Ryomen?" You squeaked, your hand coming up to cover your lips and chin. This was beyond embarrassing, and against policy, wasn't it? "What are you doing?"
"I'm going to fill in for your partner today," Sukuna muttered as he tossed his shirt to the side and grabbed some oil that was meant for preparing the woman during each session.
"I just called the front desk and I've been told there's no members within your training range that are available. There's also, some new members I'm assuming, that'll be walking around with Getou. So, if you'd please remove your clothing, I'd like to get started."
With your heart racing, head spinning, and body aching, you took off your clothes quickly; well, what you had left anyways. All you were really wearing was a low cut and loose T-shirt with a sports bra, and some biker shorts with (some rather lacy) pink panties. The cold air of the room that was being blown from one of the ACs in the hallways wasn't enough to make your temperature go down.
It was almost like a dream had begun for you, seeing Sukuna's body start to be revealed with every second that passed by.
Taut abs and chest, no doubt worked on every week with his own workouts. Your thoughts started to swirl around what Sukuna actually looked like while hitting the gym, obviously one that wasn't a weird sexy gym of course.
"Your clothing, miss," Sukuna said, gesturing towards your shirt and shorts with a sigh. "You still haven't undressed."
"S-Sorry, sir!" You squeaked once your thoughts had cleared. Quickly stripping your shirt and bra, before you sat back down in front of Sukuna.
Your ears began to burn as your blush made its way towards them, practically engulfing your entire face in a hot flush. Knowing it was noticeable, you tried to pat your cheeks down so that they weren't as warm. Sukuna though, felt like he was the one that should be truly ashamed.
I mean, he did think about his boss entering you and then wishing it was himself while in a shower earlier.
"Please, lay back so we can start with the massage." Sukuna instructed, opening the small bottle of oil and dripping some into his hand.
It was a golden liquid that almost appeared with honey, the smell being of coconut the only real hint that it was oily lotion and not a small snack for toast in the morning. Sukuna lathered the concoction all over his rough fingers before looking over at you and gesturing for you to lay once again.
With a nod, you laid on the mat, Sukuna soon climbing up and resting himself in your lap. Not really pressing his weight onto you and just hovering. He knew he was rather heavy and didn't want to get written up for crushing his client. After giving his fingers and palms another once-over, he reached down to cup your breasts in his his hands.
"O-Ohh.." He mumbled to himself, eyebrows raising slightly as it to twitch in surprise. Softer than expected...
Sukuna wasn't some fridged virgin, of course. He had his way around with a rather large group of women, but he hasn't ever felt tits as soft as yours. While squeezing out the knots and kinks in them, Sukuna's shaft had begun to harden. He knew you could see it pressing against the inside of his shorts, he saw your eyes flicker down to stare for a moment before he twisted your nipple and made you shudder.
"A-Aahh.." You cooed softly, your body shaking as Sukuna's warm hands squeezed and kneaded your breasts. It felt so good, almost too good; making you wonder how many times Sukuna's done this for a woman. "Mmmff.. Haa.."
"Finished with the breast massage," Sukuna announced, letting go of your chest and reaching to dry his hands on a towel nearby. He was lucky he brought one with him, there's usually one that's set inside the room prior to a session, but today was a rather strange day.
"Now, get on your stomach like always."
You nodded with a small whimper, you were quite enjoying the attention your chest was getting. In all honesty, Sukuna's palms felt better than your previous training partners. After you had turned onto your belly, and Sukuna was repositioned above you, you felt his hands returned to your skin and began massaging your shoulders and sides.
"Aahh.." You cooed with satisfaction, rolling your shoulders slightly into the cupped palms of Sukuna's hands.
"Feeling good?" He asked, chuckling at your movements.
Nodding, Sukuna moved down towards the center of your back, angling his hands outwards towards your sides and pressing down every few moments. Starting from the underside of your shoulder blades and down to your hips, Sukuna's hands expertly worked out the extra aches or strains you felt, asking every so often if it hurt once or twice.
As a few minutes passed by, you were instructed to do the same for Sukuna's back and shoulders. Making sure to take extra care of his shoulders and hips as he asked you to do. Eventually, Sukuna and you were both seated like you were before and Sukuna was looking over his clipboard for your session that day.
"Alright, today we're going to start off with a missionary position," He nodded, tapping his finger against it for a second. "After about 20 sets, we'll move to cowgirl and then doggy."
Face flushed after hearing the last few words, you gave a nod and glanced upwards towards your fitness trainer. Unable to tell if your heart was ready for it, you rested back against a small pillow that had been placed for your head. Sukuna placed his clipboard down onto the ground next to him, looking down at you for a moment.
"Let me get your underwear off," He muttered softly, reaching towards you and hooking his fingers under the waistband of your biker shorts. "I'll begin afterwards and use my mouth on your pussy, just like every other session."
"D-Don't say it like that," You blushed, looking to the side and feeling your pussy twitch at his words. "It's embarrassing."
Sukuna chuckled at this, discarding your lower garments and placing his hands on your knees. Looking back up at you and smiling slightly, an intense flush in your cheeks and ears making you warmer as Sukuna pushed your legs in opposite directions and moved his face closer to your privates.
"Thank you for the meal, miss."
Your thighs twitched under Sukuna's fingertips, tracing small circles and rubbing until his eyes met your clit and your slick folds. The urge to tease you was beyond comprehension for him, making him chuckle to himself at his own wants.
Seriously, been way too long..
Dipping his head between your thighs, Sukuna flicked his tongue out against your clit. Watching you twitch and whine underneath him as he kissed and began to suck on the trembling button. He wasn't going to lie, you tasted amazing.
You were sweet, so sweet you almost tasted like some kind of fruity dessert. Even though he couldn't think of the treat, he was very much enjoying it. Your lower lips were warm and felt good against his tongue, pushing it into your slick hole and cooing as your insides sucked his pink muscle in.
Sukuna flinched, hearing your mewls and moans catching his attention and making his shaft twitch again. A moan slipped from his throat and vibrated against your shaky opening, forcing another yelp from you. Moving his tongue in and out of your opening, Sukuna continued to rub and attend to your clit. Glancing once or twice up towards you, even though he wanted to abosultely wreck you at the same time.
Your pants and moans were getting him frustratingly hard, to the point that even his shorts and underwear were becoming stained with precum.
"Y/n, I'll be undressing completely as well," Sukuna warned, swallowing a shameful gulp down his throat as he sat up to free himself. "I'll be putting on the condom once you're fully stretched for me."
"S-Sukuna.." Your voice echoed, mewling as your eyes lifted up to look into his, making him stop short. "More, please.."
No, stop.. I'll want more than just this from you.
With a shaky sigh, Sukuna nodded and got his remaining clothes off, reaching over to his clipboard and grabbing the condom. Lifting one of your legs to his waist and your other following suit one your own accord. Ripping the small package open, Sukuna quickly put on his protection and looked up towards your face.
"I'm putting it in," He said, his body temperature rising at the sight of your flushed face. "Tell me if it hurts, Y/n."
"Alright, sir," You mumbled, your eyes locked with his once again. They seem to do that a lot..
"Ah, not 'sir' right now. Sukuna."
Leaning forward, Sukuna pressed his tip against your opening. Pushing it inside and groaning quietly as your walls began to envelope his cock. He was quite big, and he could tell it was having a little effect on you.
Your face was flushed, and your back was arching. Your hands were turning into fists on your chest, pressing your tits together as one lifted to your mouth, a whimper escaping. Watching your pussy stretching around his cock, Sukuna bit his lower lip as he began to make it past the halfway point.
He let out a breath once he was all the way inside, rubbing your hips and squeezing gently as he rolled his hips and began moving his cock in and out. "Ha.. 20 sets, Y/n. Fuu.."
Sukuna held onto your waist with a firm grip, licking his lips and starting to rock his hips into you at a faster pace. Your moans started to grow louder and louder, more frequently too. And Sukuna couldn't help but let a few low grunts and sighs out, you felt amazing.
Better than what he shamefully wondered about each session; feeling your plush and soft walls squeezing around him and practically begging to milk his balls dry.
Oh fuck, did he want to cum already.
"O-One.. two.. fuckk.. th-three.." Sukuna counted, peeking down at your fluttering pussy lips. "Shit, your pussy looks so good all wet like this."
"A-Aahh.. Sukuna.. mmfff.." Mewling underneath him as he began to pick up his pace. Feeling his cock bury itself deeper inside of you and knock at your cervix.
You weren't even able to hear Sukuna's counting as your tummy began to tighten and your pussy began to squeeze down on his length. It was so thick but felt so good, oh my god did you want to stay like this forever. Sukuna's dick was almost too good to be true, and with pretty and red it looked earlier, you felt that it couldn't get better.
"I-I'm gonna.." You whimpered, Sukuna's hand tracing up your hips and sides to your chest. Fondling the bouncing bubbles on your chest with a gentle touch, rubbing at your swollen nipples and sighing in content.
He'll have to do more than just fantasize about this now..
"Hold it, or we're doing another set," Sukuna warned, biting his lip as his eyes stared at your tits in his hands. They were so soft and warm, he wanted to lick and suck at your nipples, roll his tongue over the perky little buttons. "F-Fuck.."
Moments hesitation was all you saw before Sukuna's face plunged between your boobs. His hands firm on both sides cupped them gently against his face as he continued to squeeze and fondle them. He had begun to moan quietly into them, feeling that it was almost like heaven between your tits.
Feeling their soft flesh against his hands and warmth making his cheeks hot. Sending him over the edge was your pulsating walls inside, squeezing him for his worth and rubbing that special little spot inside that made your toes curl.
"A-Alright, haa.. Time to switch positions," Sukuna said, lifting from his little haven between your breasts and sitting up, pulling himself with much annoyance from your soft opening and resting back on the mat. "Cowgirl."
You nodded and climbed into the tattooed male's lap, your fingers grazing over where the patterns decorated his arms and chest while his hands placed themselves on your hips and rocked you against his front for a few moments before pushing you back down onto his cock.
He let out a sigh, happy to feel your warm walls back around him. Even if this was against company policy, Sukuna was happy that he was able to break the rules, for even a day. Laying down on the mat, your trainer began to bounce you in his lap before thrusting his hips up and sheathing himself completely inside.
"You're gonna have to move on your own, love," Sukuna said, his touch constantly moving around until it landed firmly on your ass. With a groan, Sukuna was pleased that the next position would be doggy. He'd be able to watch it bounce against his pelvis as he fucked a load into you.
"Come on, start using your legs."
Sukuna gave your thigh a slap, making you yelp and nod quickly as a blush filled your cheeks again. He smirked underneath you as you began to move your hips like instructed, watching your face morph from one after the other. Though, as you continued to roll and rock your hips against Sukuna's, his eyes began to roll back and he rested his head onto the mat.
Was it his lack of action or how tight you were squeezing him that gave him such an amazing high? He didn't know, but he really wanted more of it.
"One.. two.. th-three.." Sukuna counted, groping at your tits whenever he could, feeling his own orgasm near the second. It felt almost like torture not getting to come already, but he knew that he'd just cause another set for you. "Almost there, Y/n.. mmnn! Good f-form.. Fuck!"
There soon was mumbling outside, though your mind was fogging and you couldn't quite make out what the people outside were saying. Sukuna though soon pressed down on your tummy, pressing his cockhead against your g-spot and making your toes curl while you let out another string of long moans and whines.
Your pussy constricted like a vice grip around Sukuna's shaft, making him bulge inside of you until he couldn't take it anymore. Grabbing your hips, making you whimper and look down at him, Sukuna thrusted himself into you quickly.
Rapid and faulty thrusts, guttural groans leaving your fitness trainer as he sat up and nuzzled his nose between your breasts once again and his tongue darted out to lick up your sweat. Finding a nipple soon and sucking harshly as his eyes looking up and locked with yours.
"You can cum, Y/n," Sukuna groaned against your perky tit, lips suckling it sweetly and making a shiver run down your spine. "Cum. Do it; cum from my fucking dick inside you."
You mewled at his wors, hugging his head to your chest as your cunt milked him for all his worth. Creaming and gushing around his shaft until his own orgasm got the best of him. The shared climax filling the room with groans and whimpers from the both of you, no doubt surprising whomever was watching and talking outside.
Even you and Sukuna were taken aback by the sudden need to cum, but the afterglow was short lived as Sukuna flipped you around onto your stomach again for the final position.
"Shit," Sukuna muttered, pulling the condom from off his dick and tying it closed. He realized he didn't have an extra rubber on him and rolled his eyes.
Fuck Gojo and his 'one condom' rule..
"I don't have another condom, it's usually supposed to last longer than this. I'm sorry, but I'll have to go in raw."
Though a little part of him didn't mind having to go inside without protection, and thankfully he knew you were clean. He was too, which he told you before entering, and Sukuna watched as your opening twitched with pure animalistic need for it.
He was a little proud of himself for this, but slipped back inside all the same and grabbed your hips once again. It felt almost natural for Sukuna's hand to be here now, pulling you back and making you bounce against his pelvis until he started to thrust and press into you. Watching your ass jiggle and slap against his pubic bone, his hand coming down to pat it a few times before slapping and making your cunt squeeze oh so deliciously around him once again.
God bless Gojo's whorish nature!
"Another set, Y/n," Sukuna announced after a few minutes, checking his watch and seeing that the session's time was also almost up. His cock was twitching as his balls slapped your clit, forcing choked up moans and cries from your lungs.
You were open to admitting that Sukuna was probably the best lay you've ever gotten and ever will. "I-I'm gonna cum again.. Mmnn!!"
"Goddamn, me too."
With a couple more hard thrusts and snaps of his hips, Sukuna's cock gave a final pulse before he was force to pull out and finish on your back while your own climax hit you hard and made you spasm around nothing. Once the only sounds that filled the room were panting and sharp breaths or mumbles of incoherent words, Sukuna rested his head on your nape and peppered kisses all across your neck and shoulders.
The sudden affection makes you blush and squirm underneath him, turning to look back up at him. "S-Sukuna..? Ha.."
Sukuna's eyes looked up at your tinted cheeks before a smirk made its way across his features, a coo echoing from his hoarse throat as a shudder went down your spine.
"Good session today, Y/n," He said with a nod, his shaft beginning to soften against your ass before he removed it and began to wipe off his semen from your skin. "Now, let's go get some grub together yeah? Got anything planned after now, or no?"
"Wh-What do you mean?" Your heart flipped, eyes sparkling up at him. Sukuna soon finished cleaning up your body and flipped you back onto the mat, his nose inches away from yours.
"I want to make your sessions a little more personal, you can say."
As your face flushed and your trainer laughed, sitting up and offering to help you with your clothing and pay for lunch, Gojo and Getou were outside and had witnessed the whole ordeal.
"So," Getou said, glancing over at Gojo and raising a coy brow at him, watching his boss fume. "Should I write him up?"
"No..." Gojo muttered, his arms crossed over his chest while his own eyes turned into slits, staring daggers at Sukuna through the tinted glass pane. "He's just doing his job, I don't see the point in writing him up over my ass."
"Ah, you're too soft, Gojo."
And that started another spat that Shoko talked about to this day.
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a/n:: srry this was so damn long omg.. i've been working on it for a while since i wanted it to be good, but jesus this is loooonggg!!! i apologise for making it have sm @[email protected];;; it's practically a chapter for a story or something. anyways, i have more drafts i want to get posted soon, and also the next chapter for Valentino!
Request Warnings: You may send in asks and requests for fluffy and smut episodes for NNN! Anyone and anything! (If I do not know the character/anime I will let you know and I hope to not disappoint.)
[ As of now, NNN Requests are CLOSED ]
Have a wonderful day/night and I hope to see you next time!
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