#it's a tall order but you can deliver

[respectthepetty]

PETTY I HAVE CHISME!! The other day I was on Insta staring longingly at Fluke Pusit because I love him and I miss him every day of my life but ANYWAY I was watching his stories and he was at an event giving an interview and happened to mention tHAT HE HAS A PROJECT COMING UP THE DETAILS OF WHICH HE CAN’T SHARE BUT THAT IT’S MAYBE A BL!! DO WE DARE TO DREAM??? —@babyangelsky

@babyangelsky, when people start a conversation with "I have chisme," my heart lights up because I know it's about to get good, and this is delicious!

"DO WE DARE TO DREAM?!" YES!

And since GMMTV didn't give him a main role, I'm even going to dare to dream that he is the lead in his new show.

I'm watching (and enjoying) a romcom about a hetero main couple just so I can see Toptap end up in bed with Fame as the BL sides.

I watched (and enjoyed) a show about a cockroach causing enough havoc at a wedding for Singto to end up in bed with Tae.

So best believe I'm gonna be thrilled to (hopefully) enjoy another former-GMMTV boy bridge out and end up in bed with some random guy who I would have never expected him to.

Fluke kissed all the homies at GMMTV, so now it's time to see him kiss other homies like a BL Thanos collecting men instead of stones.

We deserve it.

[zooophagous]

So why do you hate the advertising industry?

Hokay so.

Let me preface this with some personal history. It's not relevant to the sins of the advertising industry perse but it illustrates how I started to grow to hate it.

I wanted to be a veterinarian growing up, but to be a vet you basically have to be good enough to get into medical school. I do not have the math chops or discipline to make it in medical school. I went into art instead, and in a desperate attempt to find some commercial viability that didn't involve moving to California, I went into graphic design.

I've been a graphic designer for about seven or eight years now and I've worn a lot of hats. One of them was working in a print shop. Now, the print shop had a lot of corporate customers who had various ad campaigns. One of them was Gate City Bank, which had a bigass stack of postcards ordered every couple months to mail to their customers.

Now, paper comes from Dakota Paper, and they make their paper the usual way. Somewhere far, far from our treeless plain there is a forest of tall trees. These trees are cut down and put on big fossil fuel burning trucks and hauled to a paper mill that turns them into pulp while spewing the most fowl odors imaginable over the neighboring town and loads the pulp up with bleach to give it a nice white color.

Then the paper is put on yet another big truck and hauled off to the local paper depot, then put on another big truck and delivered to my print shop, where I turned the paper into postcards telling people to go even deeper into debt to buy a boat because it's almost summer. The inks used are a type of nasty heat sensitive plastic that is melted to the surface of the paper with heat. Then the postcards are put on yet ANOTHER truck and sent to the bank, which puts them on ANOTHER truck and finally into the hands of their customers, who open their mail and take one look at the post card and immediately discard it.

Heaps and heaps and literal hundreds of pounds of literal garbage created at the whim of the marketing team several times a year. And thats just one bank in one city.

I came to realize very quickly that graphic design was the delicate art of turning trees into junk mail.

And wouldn't you know it there are a TON of companies that basically only do junk mail. Many of them operate under the guise of a "charity," sending you pictures of suffering children or animals and begging for handouts and when they get those handouts the executives take a nice fat cut, give some small token amount to whatever cause they pay lip service to, and then put the rest of the cash right back into making more mailers. "Direct mail marketing" they call it.

Oh but maybe it's not so bad, you can advertise online after all. Now that there's decent ad blocker out there and better anti-virus ads usually don't destroy your computer anymore just by existing.

Except now when I search for the exact business I want on Google it's buried under three or four different "promoted search items" tricking me into clicking on them only to shoot themselves in the foot because I searched for the specific result I wanted for a reason and couldn't use those other websites even if I felt like it.

And now we have advertising on YouTube and on every streaming service, forcing more and more eyes onto the ad for the brand new Buick Envision that parks itself because you're too stupid to do it on your own.

Oh thats ok maybe I'll get Spotify premium and go ad free and listen to some podcasts- SIKE we have the hosts of your show doing the song and dance now. Are you depressed and paranoid from listening to my true crime podcast about murdered and mutilated teenagers? That's ok, my sponsor Better Help can keep you sane enough to stay alive and spend more money.

It's gotten so terrible that now you have content farms, huge hubs of shell companies that crank out video after video to get more and more precious clicks. Which if the videos were innocuous maybe that wouldn't be so awful except now you have cooking hacks that can actually burn your house down and craft hacks that can electrocute you being flung into your eyes at the speed of mach fuck so some slimy internet clickbait jockey doesn't need to get a real job.

It of course goes without saying that animals are also relentlessly exploited by clickbait companies that will put them in compromising situations on purpose to create a fake fishing hack video or even just straight up killing them for sport by feeding small animals to a pufferfish that rips them apart for the camera.

And all of this, ALL of this doesn't even touch how adveritising is the death of art in general. Queer topics, any kind of interesting art, any kind of sex or substance use topics are scrubbed clean and hidden at the behest of advertisers.

Sex education, a nude statue, topics such as racism or sexism or bigotry in general have tags purged or hidden from search, even life saving information about SDTs or drug use, because if someone saw that and complained then Verizon might sell fewer tablets and we can't fucking have that.

Conservative talking heads often bitch and moan that they're being censored on social media. The stupid part is, they're right! They are being censored! But it's not by a woke mob, it's by ATT and Coca Cola not wanting their adspace sharing screen time with their stupid fucking opinions.

However, they won't ever figure that out, because the talking heads they get their marching orders from like Tucker and Jones ALSO rely on the sweet milk flowing from the sponsorship teat and they aren't about to turn on their meal ticket so they have to come up with even stupider shit to say for the train to continue rolling.

I managed to rant this far without even getting into the ads I see for the beauty industry. The other day a botox ad described wrinkles as "moderate to severe crows feet" as if wrinkles are a symptom of a fucking serious disease! Like having a flaw in your skin is a medical problem that you need thousands of dollars of literal botulism toxin to fix! I was incandescent with anger.

Advertising is a polluting, censoring, anti educational and anti art industry at it's very core. It destroys human connections, suppresses human thought and makes us hate our own bodies. It ads no value, actively detracts from value, and serves no real purpose and I believe it should be almost if not entirely banned.

[kelseytheballerina]

Reflections on building a better me

Exercise is not optional. Mental satisfaction from completing yet another workout cannot be overstated. Physical satisfaction from feeling good and enjoying your body in clothes, the mirror, and photos cannot be overstated. Stop messing around, stop info hoarding, go exercise. And tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day. And the next day.

Looking your best depending on circumstances (ie, casual, dressy, bedtime, etc) is not optional. External confidence from taking care of your appearance top to bottom and loving what you see in the mirror is highly valuable.

You feel better when you eat better. You’re proud of yourself when you eat better.

Hobbies, hobbies, hobbies. Do you feel embarrassed when someone asks what you do all day and you can’t come up with an honest answer that doesn’t make you sound like a loser with no life? You need hobbies. Some that are outdoors, some that are indoors. Some that are taxing, some that are relaxing. You will enjoy life more, become a more well-rounded individual, and have positive ways to spend your time rather than racking up more hours on your phone. Get some hobbies. Plural.

Procrastination and laziness should disgust you. You shouldn’t be able to relate. You should strive to be above that. You like yourself better when you complete your tasks and get things done in a timely manner. You’re proud of yourself when you’re on a roll and have a productive streak. You’re impressed by productive people and no one likes a lazy bum.

Decide what you want from life and pursue it ruthlessly. Don’t take advice from people who don’t have the life you want, unless they were once on your desired path and fell off. Even then, you listen to them when they say what NOT to do (learning from their mistakes) but clearly they don’t know what TO do bc they didn’t make it to the finish line. Take “do this” advice from people who crossed the finish line and have what you want. You’ll find that the amount of input that is actually valuable to you has suddenly dwindled. Good. Less chatter in your ears.

Get yourself in order before you go around critiquing everyone else. Get YOUR face in order. Get YOUR body right. Get YOUR money up. Get YOUR style in order. Get YOUR relationship together.

Stop coming to everyone for validation like a toddler. Validate yourself. Do you like it? Okay then. Are you over it? Okay then. Stop being so weak. Stand tall, lead yourself. Stop being such a follower.

Be a good person. Help your family, lend a hand to strangers, give back, say sorry, do things for loved ones just because, show affection, work things out, watch your mouth, speak respectfully, remember that the world owes you nothing. Stop being an insufferable freak.

You can’t change anyone but yourself. Get yourself in order and be a good role model. That’s all you can do. Give people advice when they want it and then go about your business. Get yourself in order. Get yourself in order.

Outrage content is the lowest form of entertainment. Engage in things that make you happy or educate you. Doom scrolling only leads to doom. Don’t like this person? Don’t click on their articles or videos. Unfollow and block. Don’t like these people? Leave their spaces. You don’t have to be outraged every day.

Always keep your word to yourself. Make a plan, stick to the plan, always deliver. If you can’t be reliable for yourself then who can you be reliable for?

[redflagshipwriter]

Fast Car Chapter One (of four)

Masterpost

Danny hit the brakes hard and veered into a bicycle lane with a very Fenton sort of style and disregard for physics. He dodged the gunman in the carpool lane. He stuck his tongue out as he passed and then steered back into the right lane once he’d cleared the pedestrian. 

It turned out that Gotham rewarded the sort of drivers forged in the crucible of the Fenton tactical GAV, which was great. Jazz had gotten a job as a barista for her third year at Gotham U, so he had inherited the car that she had used as a delivery driver. She’d even somehow managed to pay the taxes on it despite the restraining orders that most government offices had on the Fenton family.

Jazz had been a pizza girl, but Danny wasn’t willing to work the late nights. He worked for three different rideshare companies. It was.. Well. It was a terrible way to make a living, if he was honest. It was wretched. But it worked! Until the car crapped out on him, this was a viable option to feed himself while he was enrolled full time at the university. He was available to drive early in the mornings and for a few peak hours on the weekends.

Danny brought an order of 17 coffees to a warehouse with serious ‘murders will happen here today’ vibes and whistled as he left. People in murder warehouses actually tipped pretty well. Worker solidarity or something. He left the early birds to enjoy their 3 am drinks and then idly checked the app to see if there was anyone else waiting for a ride or delivery. 

“Victor,” he read, and took a glance at the address. It was close! He snagged the request and turned on some bubblegum pop to enhance the ride over. 

He saw a man standing outside, haunting a storefront with metal shutters pulled down. Must be the guy! Danny pulled over, checked the app, and then furrowed his eyebrows. Huh. Seemed wrong. He fixed his face before he looked back over. 

In the app, Victor didn’t look especially young or fit. In person, he was easily over 6 feet tall and lugged a huge bulky bag like it weighed nothing. 

He also had a giant ugly motorcycle helmet with the vague impression of a caveman brow ridge built into it. Danny hid his judgmental thoughts and rolled down the window to chirp, “Hi! Victor?”

“That’s me.” Victor sounded like he was auditioning for the Deft Punks, electronics grinding out his voice to a silly robot autotune. Danny hid the way his lips wanted to tremble. You can’t laugh at clients. “Can I put this in the trunk?”

Danny hated that. “Go for it.” He opened the trunk with the button and hid his real thoughts. He didn’t like people using the trunk. Why not just put it in the backseat like a normal person? There was enough room for a person and a bag there.

‘Is there enough room for this guy, actually?’ Danny wondered, looking Victor up and down subtly. Were his shoulders padded or was he actually built like that? Bizarre. 

He had the sense that Victor was tense.

‘Ah., fuck. He caught me checking out his shoulders.’

Danny cleared his throat and whipped his face forwards again. “Normally I say to sit in the backseat, but I'm not sure that's enough room for your legs. Either is fine.” 

Victor took him up on the front seat option and readjusted the passenger seat back with a casual ease. 

Danny waited a moment.

Victor cocked his head at him.

“Seatbelt,” Danny prompted.

There was a long moment. Victor silently buckled his seatbelt. 

“Awesome.” Danny put on his turn signals and pulled out. He went slower than he preferred. He’d learned the hard way that most passengers didn’t like his driving. It was great for cutting time off when he was delivering food, but no good for nervous cargo like poor Victor here. The poor guy was so anxious that he kept his emotional support helmet on when a passenger in a car. 

Danny thoughtfully drove the speed limit and let Victor change music.

They didn’t have much to talk about. Danny didn’t mind much either way. He liked quiet rides and he liked chatting alright.

“Stop the car two blocks early,” Victor said. He pointed. “There’s fine.”

Obligingly Danny guided the car to a stop and shifted to park. He jumped out of the car. “I’ll grab your bag!” He called over his shoulder. He popped open the trunk and lifted Victor’s bag with a winning smile that said ‘I deserve a good tip.’

Victor had moved to the back of the car faster than Danny expected. He paused. He looked weirdly stiff. “Thanks.” He took the bag. “...Here’s your tip.”

“Have a wonderful day!” Danny said, pretending not to be interested in how much money it was. He waved Victor goodbye and pulled out. As soon as he was a block away he counted the bills. “Fuck yeah,” he hissed. Victor tipped like a crime boss. He stuffed them into his wallet and made a mental note of the account. He’d definitely try to accept requests from him in future.

He gave two more rides before he could go back to his shitty apartment and get ready for classes. Danny parked in the little underground garage near his place where he paid a monthly fee and jogged to his place. He got his bag and left on foot.

He had a pretty normal day. The only hiccup was that it was kind of hard to focus on his lectures when he could faintly hear what had to be every TV on campus playing the same news bulletin. Danny did his best to block it out, grimacing. Having advanced senses really sucked sometimes. If he heard the breaking news jingle one more time, he might cry. 

By the time he was free he felt pushed to his limit. He went back to his place and turned off all his electronics for some peace of mind. 

The next morning felt better. He turned on the tab that said he was available for work at 3 am and ended up bringing a huge delivery of breakfast materials to the same police station that he’d left Victor at yesterday. Danny hummed as he jogged up the concrete steps with three bulging bags of baked goods and coffee grounds. He handed them to a weary-eyed receptionist and accepted his tip without looking at it. He considered cracking a joke about them being busy and decided it was better not to.

He was still an illegal entity, after all. His parents were covering for him, but scrutiny was not his friend. He didn’t want any interaction with the police or the rogue band of detective freakazoids that ran this crime town.

Back in the car, he checked his tip. Danny clicked his tongue and made a disgusted sound. He hated cops. Cheap! There was nothing worse than being cheap.

His next customer tried to rob him at gunpoint as soon as he got in the car. Danny wrestled the gun away from him and ate it while the guy watched. “Just try and report me to the app,” Danny sneered between crunches of metal. It tasted like shit and the guy probably hadn’t washed his hands, so like, yuck. But it was a choice he was making for the intimidation factor, not because it was yummy.

‘Bet my iron intake is good now.’ Danny held out his hand. “My tip,” he said, and did not unlock the car door until the shaking wannabe carjacker had given him three dollars American money. Hell yeah. “Have a good morning.”

He went into the app and canceled the ride. There was another request waiting, so he drove to it. It wasn’t the name that the app’s request had shown, but- “Good morning, Victor!” Danny waved. “Call from a friend’s app this time?”

Victor stared at him dumbly. At least, that was Danny’s best guess of what was going on inside the helmet. “Yes.” He eventually said.

Cool, cool. Very weird. But he was an ok guy and he tipped well. “Hop in,” Danny said, and unlocked the car.

[ariestrxsh]

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⚠️ content warning: ⚠️ smut, utter filth, public, exhibitionism, oral, fingering, getting caught, praise, threesome (ish)

✍️ Summary: ✍️ You walk into a bar/club with the intention of grabbing Chris' attention and taking him home. Chris buys you a drink, you flirt a little bit, and he challenges how loose your morals are in a public setting. By the end of the night, you're walking around with no panties on under your little black dress, and both Matt and Chris are coming home with you.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

both part one

I caught Chris' gaze from across the room as I walked in the door. I didn't usually go to clubs, especially this one, but when I did, I always knew Chris would be there, and I always secretly hoped he'd give me attention. The music was loud, and there were several different colored lights flashing around the atmosphere. I caught an aroma of sweat, alcohol, and pheromones.

I'd smoked a joint in the car before coming in to calm my nerves, but I was worried about it having the opposite effect. I had on a little black dress, a pushup bra, and red-bottomed heels that matched my lipstick, simple but classy. It wasn't my usual style, but my goal tonight was to be Chris' type, and it seemed like the plan was working. Chris took a sip of his drink without taking his eyes off me as I made my way over to the bar to order. I stared back at him in a stoned haze, and I playfully bit my lip.

"He's trouble," the brunette girl behind the bar said, picking up on the energy between us. "I'm telling you. Stay away from him. He's trouble." She said as she filled a tall glass with Blue Moon from the tap. She strode off in the other direction to deliver the beer, and I knew she was right. The fact that a random bartender at a club where Chris frequents was warning me about him was definitely a sign to follow my gut. After all, he was bad news. But I couldn't help that when I looked at him, my face would feel all hot, and I'd feel a warmth between my legs. I knew my curiosity about Chris could get me burned, but I didn't care. I imagined how hot he'd look while ruining my life.

Oh God, he's coming this way. I admired how sexy he looked in that black sweater and silver chain around his neck. He approached me, "Can you move? I'm trying to order a drink for a hot girl," he said, flatly. Oh my god, how embarrassing. "Oh God, of course. Sorry," I moved out of the way. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say it looked like you were staring at me before I came over here," he smirked, his icy blue eyes locked on mine. "Sorry, I didn't mean to," I gave half a smile. "I didn't say I didn't like it," he said, "So what are you drinking?" "Um, I don't know. Probably gonna order a whiskey sour or something." Chris flagged down the brunette bartender from before who was clearly giving me the side eye. "Hey Mindy, get me two whiskey sours, will ya?" he slid her a $20. "Sure, but I'm keeping the change for my troubles," she shot back at Chris. Chris didn't seem to mind this, and instead he just gave her a smile that said something like, well played, Mindy. She exchanged a small look with me that told me, this is your last chance or else he's got you on the hook. But I wanted to be on Chris' hook.

"Why does that bartender have it out for you?" I asked once she walked off to go make our drinks. "Oh, I fucked her and her friend in a three way, and I never called either of them back," he chuckled. I rolled my eyes. I knew Chris was a player and that women and sex were all just a game to him, but maybe I didn't mind. Maybe he could be a fun game for me to play. Mindy returned, scoffed, and handed Chris two whiskey sours. His fingers grazed mine as he handed off my drink to me. "You've got good taste," He looked at me with his bedroom eyes. "Thanks for the drink. Don't you need to go deliver that other drink to whatever hot girl you were talking about?" I asked, motioning to the second whiskey sour. "Oh, I already did. This one's for me." He smiled at me, took a sip of his drink, and I blushed. It's too late. He's got me.

"Hey, you don't think Mindy like poisoned our drinks or anything, do you?" I said, realizing I sounded a little paranoid. "No, the only reason she hates my guts is because I rearranged hers, and on the off-chance that I would do it again, there's no way I'm more valuable to her dead than alive." He glanced back at Mindy and winked at her. I watched her go from a look of contempt towards Chris to a look of deep desire, but it was almost a microexpression, one you could easily miss if you hadn't looked at Chris that way before.

"You know, we should go somewhere a little quieter," Chris said, turning his attention back to me and motioning towards the speaker that was blasting Tove Lo's 'Stay High.' We locked fingers and he pulled me into an area where we could actually hear eachother, and we sat down at a round table with a long black table cloth. It was towards the back of the club, a little secluded, with a lot fewer flashing lights. I felt myself relax a little. I didn't know why Chris suddenly seemed so enthralled with me, but I liked it. I was good friends with his brothers, and it's not like Chris and I were on bad terms, he just kept me at an arm's length mostly, where as Matt and Nick were more open and vulnerable with me. Chris always seemed a little cold and more aloof than his triplet brothers.

"Hey, what are you giving me so much attention for?" I asked him directly. "What do you mean?" He responded. "I just mean, I hang out with Nick and Matt a lot, and you've always seemed a little uninterested, and now you seem... interested.." I trailed off, expecting him to cut me off and correct me or deny it. Instead he leaned in and practically put his mouth on my ear, "You just seem like a really good girl, and I know I'm a degenerate, and I feel like I'd ruin you... so I keep my distance," he said. "Yeah, does that work on all the girls?" I knew his game, because I watched him work it on several other women before, and I couldn't deny that I was about to walk into the trap. "Actually yes," he laughed, not able to hold back his satisfaction. "But it doesn't make it any less true. I guess I have a thing for good girls. Can't stay away from 'em, especially when they look this good, just can't help myself," he said, grabbing onto my thigh, and glancing down at my cleavage. Hearing Chris say "good girl" and grip my leg like that tied my stomach into a million knots, and the warmth between my legs was becoming a wetness. "What makes you think I'm a good girl? You don't think I take risks?" I got a little defensive.

"When's the last time you took a risk?" Chris asked me. "I've cheated on tests before." "Boring." "Well, I snuck out in high school a few times.." "So long ago, doesn't count." "Okay, I smoked a joint in my car before this." "No way, you're lying." "No I'm not, maybe I'll smoke you out tonight if you're nice to me," I teased him.

"Well if you're not as good of a girl as I thought you were, what's the riskiest place you've had sex?" Chris' question caught me off guard. I wasn't a virgin, but I wouldn't have said I was super experienced, and I certainly hadn't done anything very risky. "Lots of places," I lied. "Yeah, like where?" Chris said, squinting his eyes at me skeptically. I stared at him in silence, and I found my eyes dancing over his lips as I bit my own, and I knew he could feel my eyes wandering. "That's what I thought. Mind if change that?"

Before I knew what was happening, Chris looked around to make sure nobody saw him, and he slid underneath the table and got down on his knees in front of me. I couldn't believe what was happening. I felt Chris' hands, the way he grazed the inside of my thigh with his fingertips. He then moved his fingers to the front of my thong, and I let out a small gasp as he started rubbing my clit in circles over my panties. I knew he knew just how wet I was, and this embarrassed me quite a bit. I felt his hair tickle my inner thighs before I felt his mouth. He left a trail of wet kisses up my thigh and stopped right as he got close to the sweetspot. Chris moved both of his hands under my dress and onto my hips. While he ran his fingers down my curves, he took my panties off. I felt so vulnerable and exposed having my pussy out in public, even if it wasn't a very crowded place. It was still public enough for me to be nervous, but what surprised me was how much I liked it. Chris ran his hand back to my pussy and started exploring my folds with his long, slender fingers.

Just as I was about to sink into the good feeling I was experiencing with Chris under the table, I looked up and saw Matt. He smiled, nodded his head in my direction, and then I realized, oh God. He's coming over here! I tried to kick Chris under the table to warn him his brother was about to walk up to the table and catch us with Chris between my legs, teasing me. However, this elicited a dominant response from Chris, and I felt him spread my legs apart further, holding them in place, and I felt Chris' middle finger line up with my entrance. As soon as Matt approached the table and greeted me, I felt Chris enter me. My mouth fell open as he did this, but I tried to play it off.

"Matt! Good to see you!" I said loudly, hoping Chris would take the hint and stop what he was doing. What a sick bastard. This made him start finger fucking me faster. "Glad you could make it out tonight. You look so good in that," Matt said, and I saw that same microexpression of desire on his face as his eyes danced from my lips to my chest. I didn't know my outfit would get Matt's attention to, but I wasn't mad.

"Mind if I sit with you?" Matt asked, already sitting down, assuming there was no good reason he couldn't, and I couldn't give him a good reason without telling him that he was interrupting my first public sexual encounter and first with his brother. I tried to act casual and take a sip of my drink, but I nearly choked on it when Chris decided to replace his hand with his tongue. "Are you okay?" Matt asked, noticing me sputtering on my whiskey sour. "Yeah, I just feel a little hot," I said, wiping a sweat bead from my brow. Matt looked intently at me while his brother started gently sucking on my clit. He put the back of his hand on my forehead. "You do feel really warm. Do you wanna go outside and cool off?" He asked. I shook my head no. "Th-thats okay, th-thanks," I could barely get out. "Hey by the way, where's Chris?" Matt inquired. "Chris..." I moaned. "Oh um dunno I haven't seen him," I lied. Matt shot me a look, "I saw him with you ten minutes ago? You guys were at the bar, talking to Mindy?" Matt looked at me like he knew something was up.

I felt Chris between my legs, working his tongue in fast circles on my bundle of nerves and suckling on it again. This elicited a sound from me I couldn't control. "Oh Chris," I moaned out again, latching onto Matt's arm because of how close I was. When I did this, my legs started to lock up and I began to shake while Matt was right next to me. Matt moved closer to me to make sure I was alright, when he bumped Chris under the table with his leg. "What the -?" Matt was definitely suspicious now, and I was utterly humiliated as he pulled back to the table cloth to reveal Chris' head between my legs. When he realized what his brother was doing, he gasped, but instead of being disgusted or angry or walking away, he bit his lip and took in the sight. He was clearly shocked but I could tell he was a little turned on by what he was seeing. "Oh. Found him," Matt said, licking his lips and looking up at me with lust in his eyes.

Chris stopped for a moment, ruining my orgasm, looked up at both of us with the bottom half of his face glistening with my wetness. "Matt, you have to try her. She tastes so fucking sweet," Chris said as if recommending a meal to his brother and continued eating me like a man starving. Matt hooked his arm around my waist and held me while Chris explored me with his mouth. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. "Do you like that? Do you like the way my brother's tongue feels?" Matt asked, leaning in to kiss my neck. I moaned in approval and found myself grinding against Chris' face. "Good girl," Matt growled into my ear, which got me even closer to the finish line. I threw my head back and let out a few louder moans. Chris continued to run his tongue skillfully all over my most sensitive places, and he did so with the perfect speed and perfect pressure. I felt his finger at my entrance again, and just when I thought I couldn't take it much longer, he slipped it in. My legs started to shake again.

"That's it. Good girl, you got this," Matt said, talking me through it. I looked down between my legs at the beautiful boy under the table, and he had his eyes on mine. The combination of the eye contact, how Chris was eating me, and Matt's melodic voice whispering sweet nothings to me sent me over the edge. I clamped my legs shut around Chris' head and grabbed onto Matt's arm so tightly I was afraid I might have bruised it, but neither one of them seemed to mind. I almost forgot we were in a club with other people around, but thankfully everyone else was so wrapped up in their own business, no one noticed me bucking my hips wildly against Chris' tongue while Matt held me and encouraged me through my orgasm. Chris looked up at me after pulling his face away. His lips and chin were covered in my juices, and he smiled seductively at me. "Oh, look, you made a mess all over my brother's tongue. I bet he loved it," Matt said, still enthralled by what he just witnessed.

Chris pulled himself out from under the table and came to sit on the other side of me. "You guys are fucking crazy," Matt said, readjusting his erection in his pants. "Yeah, but you liked it," Chris teased Matt. Chris then turned to me, "You were so wet before I even started touching you, I thought I was gonna drown at some points," he smirked. I felt my face grow red, and I buried it in my hands. "Don't be embarrassed, sweetheart. I loved it." Chris smiled and ran the backside of his index finger over my cheek after I pulled my head up from my hands.

"Mind if I have a taste?" Matt asked as I felt his index finger reach under my chin to tilt my head towards him. He looked at me, biting his lip. I couldn't believe what he was saying, but I felt that knot in my stomach form again and a warmth between my thighs. I slowly nodded, but Chris interrupted. "Hold on, Matt. Give her a break. Let her recover. Let's go smoke that joint." Chris smiled at me, knowing he had been very nice to me, and so had Matt. The least I could do was roll us all a joint. Before we got up, I realized I had a breeze in a place I didn't normally, and then I remembered.. my thong! "Wait, Chris. You still have my panties," I glared at him. "Yeah. Trust me, you won't be needing them with all the things we'll be doing to you tonight." Chris and Matt both exchanged a devious grin with one another and then both looked back at me like they were hungry, and I was their next meal.

to be continued...

part two posted now

[stars-for-circe]

Yes Ma’am

Support Palestine

Tags/cw: smut, masturbation, fingering, voyeurism, farm au

Thinking about Farmhand!Abby working around the place during the summer, and when you finally come visit your family’s farm for the holidays, you see her, in nothing but a wifebeater and dirtied denim jeans.

She’s doing some heavy lifting from the truck to the shed, brows furrowed and sweat dripping down her muscles and back, yelling some orders to the others in that sweet-sounding southern accent. Oh, you can’t take your eyes off her for a single fucking second.

And come night time, after all the small talk and “hello”s while catching up with your family, you find yourself in bed under the moonlight, a soft breeze coming through the open window, just staring at the ceiling in thought. How strong she looked, how tall she was. How, when it was finally time to walk into the house after arriving, and right past Abby, you were met with sheepish eyes staring demurely up and down your body when she thought you weren’t watching. Surprisingly shy, you think in your head.

And you, so focused on remembering every part of the girl, unable to notice your hand trailing down, down, down your body, past your waistband. With a jolt of pleasure, you realise what you’re doing - who you’re thinking of as you touch yourself. God, just one glance in your direction and Abby has entirely consumed you, plaguing your thoughts as you fuck yourself on your fingers and wish it was hers so badly.

How unapologetic you are, when you finally cum, fingers all wet and sticky and furiously circling your sensitive clit, as you clench achingly around nothing. You feel empty, still. An itch you can’t scratch yourself. You need Abby. You need her with every part of your being, for her to be yours this summer.

And what a powerful manifestation you made, what with how just outside, below your room on the second floor, stands Abby on the porch. Leaning with her back against the wall, head thrown back and fingers deep inside her cunt - the cigars your father asked for her to deliver long forgotten. Just barely illuminated by the moon and some distant light left on inside the house, is her, grinding helplessly against her hand, muffling every whine and whimper with her other hand grasped tight around her mouth as she listens to your soft sighs and moans. A shudder as Abby cums, and then a jolt at the overstimulation, before she goes still for a beat.

And then it’s a whispered swear as Abby yanks her hand out of her soiled jeans, clarity hitting as she’s just realised what she’s done. If your father finds out his farmhand just fucked herself to his daughter-

Concealment forgotten, she hurries off the wooden porch and back to her quarters, her boots thudding against the floor and making quite the racket. You jolt up at the noise, terrified someone heard your sins, what you just did to yourself. It’s the leaves crunching outside that brings your attention to the window, as you peak your head out to see what’s out there. And fuck the countryside, because it’s pitch black, and all you can make out is someone retreating back to their quarters. Someone tall, buff, but not like a man, almost like-

You smile to yourself, this revelation all too perfect. You wonder how much she heard, too. Was it just the quiet parts? Or maybe when you started letting out some noises? How about when you started moaning her name? Or when you came to the thought of her? A dull throb resurrects in you, pulsing, aching for more of what you just started.

Your parent always told you the dangers of an unlocked window, but an open one was certainly the best mistake to be made tonight…

Taglist: @happysparklingshadows @irelandzo @r3starttt @iamaboringrattat @genderfluidlesbain999 @slut4mascss @rxreaqia @kylorey25 @massivepeacefemme @elliewilliamsfavborderhopper @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf @ratdungeon @jayssketchbook @elxarw @mariasabanahabanabana @vvynia @abbyshands @littlegingerperson5

[briefalpacashark]

~Cowboys and Men~ Part One ~

Synopsis : The 141 have to play cowboys.

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You sat along with the other boys of the 141 as you stared at Laswell. She had just delivered the news of your next mission.

“Well shit,” you grin widely. Why? The mission was right up your alley. You had personal experience practically having grown up in the thick of it. The boys, however. You were almost certain that none of them had even come close to anything like it.

The mission. Going undercover in an American rodeo. 

“So you want us to play cowboy?” Price asked.

“That’s right. Long enough till you find this guy and bring him in,” she stated tapping her knuckle on a photo of the target. An older man with a grim surrounded by gray hair and a killer mustache.

“Y/N you'll be the one participating in the rodeo. The boys will be your team,” Laswell explained simply. 

“Her team?” Jonny asked, jabbing his thumb at you. “Why can't I be the horse rider huh?” he asked.

“Can you ride a horse?” Laswell asked.

“Well no, canne be hard, can it?” his question had you chuckling.

“Its an invite only event, we've got a contact. You'll head out tomorrow to show him what you got. He'll slot you in where he can,” Laswell focused on you as she spoke.

“Sure thing boss,” you nodded.

“Honestly Laswell, I think I could do a pretty good job,” Jonny stated.

“The fact that you think a rodeo only involves horses proves how unqualified you are for it,” You stated.

“And you are?” Jonny asked.

“I grew up in the saddle of a horse, mate. You're looking at a genuine drover,” you gestured to your body with a smirk.

“The fuck is a drover?” Jonny asked the rest of the team. Gaz simply shrugged.

“Alright dismissed,” Laswell said. 

You were quickly dispatched to the good old US of A. You were dropped off in a random field via helicopter. Your team walked up to two men on horseback. The one on the left was tall and buff with golden hair to die for. The other was slightly shorter and stubbier. But they both had one thing in common. They looked like genuine cowboys. Hats and everything.

“Howdy!” Jonny called with a terrible American accent.

“Fucken hell,” you chuckled, shaking your head.

“Forgive him. He's hit his head a few too many times,” Price stated.

“That stunt his growth too?” The blond asked. Your laugh broke through your lips as Jonny’s smile fell.

“The one you just shut up is Soap, that's Gaz, Ghost. I’m Bravo and that’s Doc.” he pointed you all out the cowboys, tipping their hat’s to you.

“Ma’am, I heard you're the only one with experience in the saddle,” the smile the blond gave you was slightly flirtatious.

“Since I was two. Grew up on a cattle station over in Australia,” You stated walking up to him to give them both a firm handshake.

“How could you choose the military life over one in the saddle?” he asked.

“Plan to get back to it one day,” you said your attention being grabbed by his horse that tried to nibble your jacket.

“He's gorgeous. Mustang?” You asked, reaching up to brush his nose.

“Yes Ma’am,” he nodded. “Care for a ride?” he asked with a wink. You chuckled at his obvious flirting attempt.

“Sorry mate. Not planning in hoping in any saddle that aint my own,” you said, giving the horse a pat.  

“Alright, well, this is Sam, my name's Aurthur,” he stated.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Price stated spoke up drawing the attention off you. 

“Pleasures all ours, Come on by the looks of you, it seems like we've got some work to do,” he stated.

“Work of what?” Gaz asked.

“To make you a lot cowboys,” he said with a grin.

First order of business, if you were to pass for cowboys, you had to look the part. Aurthur generously offered to take you all shopping. Your choice was quick, picked out for practicality. A simple light blue button up. A pair of denim jeans, a comfortable pair of boots and your old hat. You pulled the beat up looking thing out of your bag. It was your simple cattleman hat shape, in a dusty brown colour. It was scuffed and dirty, but it was yours. Setting it atop your head, you smiled at the familiar feeling. Slipping on the dark leather jacket, you fixed the collar before stepping out of the changing room.

“Look out,” Jonny stated from their allocated seats, all gathered in front of the changing rooms.

“So how do I look?” You asked, giving them a little pose.

“Like one hell of a rider,” Aurthur spoke up.

“So so,” Gaz tilted his hand back and forth.

“Oh yeah, let's see you do better,” you said tauntingly.

“Watch a master at work,” Gaz stated. You all waited for his outfit choice. When he stepped out you almost died of laughter. Tassels, tassels and fringe everywhere. On his head sat a bright red Tom Mix hat.

“What you don't think it's good?” he asked jokingly. 

“You look like you'll fly away in a light breeze,” Jonny joked.

“Eat shit soap,” Gaz flipped him off.

“Nah, I'll show you how it's done,” Jonny spoke up. Yells of shock sounded from you all as he walked out in a pair of assless chaps. Only they weren't assless. In fact you saw a lot of ass due to the fact that Jonny only wore the chaps. Nothing else. He held a small bowler's hat in front of his privates as he pretended to act confused. He turned around, giving you a clear view of his rosy red cheeks.

“Fucken hell,” you chuckled, tipping your hat down to cover your gaze.

“You know, I don't think I put these on in the right order,” he stated. Even the Price cracked a chuckle or two.

“Might get a rash ridding a saddle like that,” Ghost stated.

“I like it,” you said. Jonny gave you a wink.

“Come on Captain,” Jonny encouraged Price when his ass was contained again. 

Price walked out in a good pairing. A deep red button up, a pair of jeans, some lovely light brown boots, a light brown fleece jacket and a white brick shaped hat. 

“Captain my captain,” You whistled.

“Where did you find that fashion sense cap?” Ghost asked.

“Quiet you,” Price warned playfully.

“You know those videos where a baby sees their dad with their beard shaved for the first time and they just break out crying,” You asked. Jonny hummed in acknowledgment.

“I feel like that with that hat he's wearing,” you whispered. Jonny chuckled.

“Alright Ghost your turn,” Jonny said slapping Ghost shoulder. Ghost slowly moved his eyes from the captain to Jonny daring him to hit him again.

“Alright, be that way grumpy,” Jonny muttered. “Guess it's my turn again,” he stated. With your help, Jonny walked out in a tight black long sleeve shirt, a denim jacket and jeans. Black boots and a brown rolled brim with a puncher crown. He looked alright apart from the obviously large belt buckle he wore. A picture of a bulls head engraved on it.

“Compensating?” you asked, nodding to the buckle, getting a bird flipped to you.

“At least his ass is covered this time,” Ghost grumbled. Gaz tried again, deciding on a cowboy version of a lumberjack. Plated shirt with a vest jacket, a dark blue pair of jenes and a black version of his original hat. 

“Careful Gaz, that shirt looks a little tight,” Jonny called.

“That's the point,” Gaz stated with a smirk flexing his biceps.

“They can try all they want. The look of a cowboy is something that comes naturally. A look, ma’am that if you'll let me say looks extremely good on you,” Arthur leaned down to whisper to you. You smirked, shrugging.

“I don't know, I think they're pulling it off,” you stated. You chuckled as Gaz tried to perform his best cowboy walk. Hand on his belt and slaughtering forward before making a gun motion with his hand. And Jonny, who pretended to slow motion, to doge said bullets.

“Yeah sure,” Arthur muttered, making you chuckle harder. As you continued to watch Gaz and Jonny make a fool of themselves, you failed to notice a certain pair of eyes set on you. 

“Careful Lieutenant, you glare any harder and he might just get the message,” Price smirked as he saw the slightly pissed expression hidden behind the skull mask.

“Don't know what you mean, sir,” Ghost grumbled before walking away. 

Noticing Ghost's missing presence, you went to look for him, finding him in front of the many hats on display.

“Having trouble choosing?” You asked, walking up to him.

“Any pointers?” he asked.

“Can't help you there. This was my uncle's hat. He lost it when I won a bet,” you said.

“But,” you trailed off, your eyes searching through the hats. You smiled, reaching out to grab one.

“Yeah, this one,” you said, placing it on his head. It was low and pinched a grayish black.

“Yeah, that suits you,” you stated simply with a satisfied nod before walking away. 

When you all returned to the ranch, Simon changed into his outfit. Black jeans, dark brown boots, a black leather jacket and dark grey button up. On his head sat the hat you chose, and he still wore his skull balaclava.

“Well hello handsome,” Jonny called as he walked out to you.

“Zip it Mc’tavish,” he grumbled. Jonny chuckled as he walked up to you. In the pen Arthur walked out a horse already saddled up. Spotting other ranchers gathering round to watch with eager grins, you quickly assessed what was happening. It was a bucking horse, or at least one they were trying to break.

“Alright, lesson one of being a cowboy. Staying on a horse that doesn't want you to stay on,” Arthur stated with a wide grin.

“Any volunteers?” he asked. You chuckled, shaking your head as Jonny raised his hand eagerly.

“Love the spirit scots, man. This here is Bessy,” Arthur said, gesturing him forward. You whipped your mouth as Jonny confidently made his way into the pen.

“Ello Bessy,” he smirked. 

“I'd say goodbye to your balls now Soap, while you have the chance,” you called out to him.

“Ah, away with ye. I'll be fine,” Jonny waved you off.

“He's gonna eat shit isn't he?” Ghost asked folding his arms over his chest.

“All five courses of it,” you chuckled, pulling yourself up to sit on the railings. 

“He has medical cover right?” you asked Price that only shock his head at his soldier stupidity.

“Alright Soap. hold on tight,” After Arthur gave him a basic run down and when Jonny was sat comfortable in the saddle did he stepped back.

“You're gonna set a timer, wanna make sure there is proof when I stay on longer than those bastards,” Jonny nodded back to you all, giving you a wide confident grin as the horse started to pad at the ground.

“Sure thing, champ,” Arthur grinned. “Go on, give her a kick,” he suggested casually, taking a few cautious steps back. 

“What like this?” Jonny asked, kicking his heels gently into her sides. 

You knew pigs couldn't fly, but Jonny sure could. One buck had the poor man was out of the saddle onto the horses ass, then the second buck had the man cartwheeling through the air before landing flat on his ass his legs split in front of him. You and Gaz was practically dying of laughter as Jonny rolled around in pain holding his manly jewels. After Jonny’s poor first display, the ranchers started to pass around bets. 

“Who's next?” Arthur asked, turning to you lot.

Gaz sat on the back of Bessy looking like he was about to shit himself.

“Ok what do I do?” he asked shakily.

“Hold on,” Arthur stated simply.

“I know that, but I don't know the first thing about horses. Do do I pat it?” he asked.

“Sure, it probably won't do you any good though,” Arthur shrugged walking back.

“Come on Gaz,” you called encouragingly.

“I changed my mind, I want to get down,” Gaz stated. As he shifted his weight in the saddle, Bessy fell into a fit. Bucking and kicking like crazy. Gaz lasted about four seconds before he was bucked off. 

“This is bullshit,” Gaz grumbled, limping back to you trying to remove the dirt from his mouth. 

“Are the betting on us?” Jonny asked nodding to the growing group.

“There ranchers, this is probably the best entertainment they've had all week,” you stated.

“Yeah well they should stop,” Gaz grumbled.

“Why? They're actually betting in your favor,” you lied.

“Really?” he asked with a small grin of hope.

“No,” you chuckled, shaking your head, Gaz's smile instantly falling.

“Your acting way too high and mighty or this,” Gaz stated.

“I think I'm acting the right amount of high and mighty for my skills,” You shrugged.

“Skills we haven't seen yet,” Gaz grumbled.

“I don't need to prove anything,” you shrugged.

“Well, if ye so confident in yourself lass. How bout a wee little bet?” Jonny asked.

“Depends on what it is,” you smirked. With the smirk Jonny already knew you accepted the bet. 

“If anyone of us can last longer than you, you owe us all a week of sick leave,” Jonny put the offer forward. In the military you need a doctor's note or your medic's permission to have a sick day. Which was practically impossible to get. You don't abuse your power but you didn't put up with their bullshit either. So they only ever got sick leave when they were actually sick. And not a man cold either, they had to actually be sick.

“And what do I get?” you asked.

“Bragging rights?” Jonny suggested.

“I'll settle for a picture of you in the outfit you rocked back at the shop,” you stated, pointing to him. Jonny grinned widely.

“Deal,” he said as you too shook on it. 

“You ready, boss?” Jonny asked, turning to Price.

“A week of sick leave, you said?” he asked, debating if he wanted to be a part of your shenanigans.

“Yes sir,” you nodded. 

“Right,” he muttered, pushing his hat further down on his head before slipping in the coral and shaking his jacket off his shoulders.

You had to give it to Price, he was pretty good. And he looked like he stepped right out of a cow boy movie. The mustache and the fit was just perfect. You sucked in a breath as he was thrown from the horse. Impressed cheers came from the others. He lasted almost ten seconds.

“Ghost?” Jonny suggested.

“I prefer to keep my balls unpopped,” Ghost grumbled.

“Guess that's me then,” You spoke up. Walking up to Bessy you smiled brushing her nose before walking round her to where Arthur stood.

“Need a hand?” he offered.

“Nah mate,” you said effortlessly, swinging yourself up onto the saddle and taking the reins in hand. The familiar creak of the leather saddle and the ruff feel of the reins was welcoming. You settled into the back of the saddle, leaning back slightly. You pressed your hat down far enough down your forehead that the only thing you saw was your hands and the horse's shoulder blades.

“Alright, lets fucking do this,” you whispered before gently kicking her. You leaned back as far as you could and pulled the reins tight as she bucked wildly. Your body was jerked about left and right back and forth, yet you held on. The boys had to admit they were impressed. The ranchers cheered as the seconds drew on. As you hit the thirty second mark you swore as the horse slammed up against the side of the railings. To avoid you leg getting crushed you lumped off, the force sending you flying over the fence, right into Arthur who just happened to be sitting stop it. The two of you hit the ground in a cloud of dust. A relatively soft fall for you due to you landing on the cowboy.

“Fuck you alright?” You asked as you quickly hopped off the poor man.

“Look at that, falling for you already,” he groaned, painfully accepting your hand to help him up.

“That line usually work?” you asked with a small smile. You had to admit he was kinda cute.

“Well I don't usually have pretty women tackling me off the fence but here we are,” he said. You chuckled, shaking your head picking up your hat.

“How long was that Jonny!?” You yelled across the coral.

“Too fucking long!” he yelled back. You grinned smugly making your way back over to the boys.

Gaz and Jonny were adamant on getting those sick days. Price opted in for a few more tries, coming only four seconds from your record before he called it quits.

“Not gonna have a go Ghost?” you asked nudging his side.

“Risk getting hurt before the mission, not likely,” he stated as you watched Jonny narrowly avoid a broken bone. 

“Fair enough,” you muttered. The boys could not beat your best. With bruised bodies and prides you all retired to your a few spar rooms in the bunkhouse.

The next morning, you all gathered before dawn. Arthur said you were gonna learn how to ride. The boys walking a bit slower than they usually would. You were all assigned horses. Ghost and Price and Gaz were going well after some instruction. And Jonny. Well let's just say he wasn't built to ride horses. He just couldn't wrap his head around it. Loud laughs sounded as the horse started to trot slightly, sending your little scotsman's bouncing rapidly in his saddle.

“Fu-Uck En H-EL-LL,” he said through bounces as his head bobbled around. You rode up to him gently pulling on the rains to get the horse to slow down.

“Come on Mate. your ancestors road these guys into battle,” You said.

“Nah, these are American horses. If it was a scottish horse I would be grand,” he stated definitely. Amused by his logic, you just shook your head. To your surprise, Simon pulled up on the other side of Jonny. “Having a bit of trouble there?” Ghost asked smuggle. “Fuck Ye LT,” Jonny grunted, trying to glare only for him to slid sideways in the saddle. You reached out holding his jacket to keep him steady as he readjusted. Ghost smirked before trotting forward. You rode up to his side looking over his posture, one hand resting on his thigh, the other holding both the reins. 

“You’ve done this before,” you stated.

“When I was a kid,” he muttered.

“It shows, You're a natural,” you said.

“Not as good as you,” he said.

“Oh stop it, you'll make me blush,” you grinned. He glanced over at your smile, grunting in response.

“So this is your dream, huh?” he asked. Your grin turned into a fond smile.

“Yeah. I want a nice plot of land in the tablelands,” you stated.

“Table lands?” Ghost asked.

“I'll admit you guys have some nice green pastures in England. But the tablelands. Man, it's something different altogether. Rolling green hills right out of a picture book. It's high up, lots of rain, and rainforests. Fog will roll over the hills in the cold mornings and arvos. I'll have five horses, shit ton of chickens and cows. Maybe a goat or two,” your shrugged. “Two dogs. One working kelpie and and little staffy,” you continued.

“A big old cottage that I built myself. Oh, it's gotta have a basement. Definitely a secret passage. Maybe a fake skeleton chucked in there.” your words had Simon smiling as his eyes settled on you. Settled on the sparkle of your eyes as you described it all.

“Oh and there will be this big ol tree. If I have a family I'll string it up with fairy lights and lanterns. I'll invite you boys round for week long adventures. Big ol fire place next to it,” you reminisce of a life that you possibly might never get to live. After all, your job wasn't necessarily safe.

“Oh so I’m a part of this future huh?” he asked. The instant your gaze turned to him he realized what he said. His face flushed as your smile became impossibly brighter.

“Of course,” you stated simply. Only when you did think of all those things you left out one key part. Whenever you thought about your future, the annoying prick in front of you would pop into the frame. Helping you build the cottage. Putting one of his masks on the fake skeletons. Him in the tree hanging up the lights. Him sitting next to you around the roaring fire. Clearing his throat his face flushed deeply as he looked back to the path in front of you. You didn't see the flush though. You simply saw him avoiding your gaze. For a moment, he wondered if he was having a heart attack. He thought it was the only explanation for his rapid heartbeat.

“Were going for a run care to join?” Arthur called back to you.

“Sure,” you called back. 

“So you ready to show me just how good you are?” You leaned over to Ghost with a taunting

“Perhaps,” he grunted.

“First one to the tree up on that ridge,” you suggested.

“Are we betting anything?” he asked.

“Bragging rights?” you shrugged. “On three?” you suggested.

“Alright, three,” he stated kicking his horse into a gallop. An excited grin stretched across your face as you did the same. The cantering group let out exclamations of surprise as you two zoomed past them in a full gallop. Even with his headstart you quickly caught up to him. Riding would forever feel different to everything in your life. It felt like flying, but so much more magical. As you were neck and neck you looked over to Ghost who looked to you. With a wink, you dropped the reins, opening your arms out as the horse pulled forward. You won by just an inch. 

The next day it was game time. You were strapped up and dressed up for your rodeo. You left a little earlier than the boys. You were hanging around beer in hand playing the part as Arthur introduced you to a few people. Chucking your watch you glanced at the time.

“They should be here by now,” you muttered.

“Speak of the devils,” Arthur muttered nodding behind you. A low whistle left your lips as you took them in.

As everyone took them in. Women, buckle bunnies and men had their eyes set on the group. They looked like a master piece of hot manliness. And you had to admit they looked good enough to have anyone's panties dropped with just a word. There boots kicking up dust as they strutted through the crowd. You swore the music was perfect of their entrance, looking like a scene out of a movie.

“Boys,” you nodded to them as they approached.

“Anna,” Price nodded to you. Your cover name for the mission.

“Come on, I've got to introduce you to someone,” Arthur stated beckoning you all over. You sucked in a small breath as he took you all to the target. 

“Tommy,” Arthur greeted the man like old friends.

“Arthur, how are you, my boy?” he asked. He was an older man, a true cowboy.

“Good Good,” Arthur nodded as they embraced.

“So you're the one Arthurs has been speaking about. You should know outsiders aren't usually welcome here,” the target stated as he turned to you.

“What scared of the challenge?” you asked with a teasing smile. The man paused a beat before breaking out into laughter.

“She's a spunk fire all right. Name’s Tom, everyone calls me Tommy,” he greeted holding his hand out to you.

“Anna,” you introduced yourself.

“Anna, you dont look like an Anna,” he said.

“Oh yeah, what do I look like?” you asked.

“Some real classy name. Like Evangeline or somethin,” he stated.

“Well, you certainly look like a Tommy,” you said.

“Why thank you ma’am,” he tipped his hat to you.

“And who are these fellas?” he asked turning to the boys.

“I'm her manager, Cole,” Price introduced himself. “These boys are on the team,” he stated, pointing to the rest who gave nods.

“I see, well fellas I'll see you out there,” he stated giving you another nod before walking off.

“So we grabbing him?” Jonny asked.

“To many people here,” Price mumbled.

“After the main event you'll have your chance, that's when he goes home,” Arthur said. You nodded, glancing around you. Fancy profession buckers were walking all round you. 

“Nervous Darling?” Arthur asked. The boys gaze snapped to him, some pissed of some surprised. The way American men say darling is just something different.

“I'm about to strap myself to a state of the art bucking horse. Of corse im fucking nervous,” you muttered.

“Don't worry. Come on, there are some other events before. Let's get you warmed up,” he stated. You needed to keep your mind occupied, so you agreed. Steer wrestling and roping was your go to. You didn't place first in anything but you didn't do too bad. The boys looked at you in a different light as you rode beside a young bull, jumping off your horse to wrestle it to the ground, flipping it over and tying its legs up. 

“God damn,” Jonny whispered as you stood to your feet holding your hands in the air.

“She's good, really good,” Arthur stated as he stood by the boys.

“That's our girl,” Price stated simply.

“So, what are you lot to her?” he asked.

“What?” Gaz asked squinting at the man.

“You lot seem real close. I know you're a team but I don't want to step on anyone's toes, I'm a gentle man like that,” he shrugged.

“What do you mean step on anyone's toes?” Price asked, his arms folding over his chest taking on the protective dad stance.

“Look if she's spoken for I'll back off. But I don't see no ring, and she calls you all by name. No pet names,” Arthur trailed off before turning to Ghost.

“So I guess im asking what are you to her,” the question was pointed at Ghost the boys quickly catching on. Ghost turned fully to him tucking his hand under his arm pits where his guns sat, hidden by his jacket. Although he made a point to let the smooth metal peek out.

“I'm the guy that fucks you up seven ways to Sunday if you hurt her,” his voice was deathly low, shaking Arthur up a bit. Yet it was Simon's glare that had the man really scared. 

But he also got the answer he wanted.

“So she's available?” Arthur pointed out with a grin.

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=Cowboys and Men = Part Two here=

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~COD Master List Here~

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[theresattrpgforthat]

Hello!! Do you know any TTRPGs surrounding translation or languages? 😊 (thanks for all your work btw!!!)

THEME: Language / Translation Games

Hello friend! As someone who studied linguistics in university, I absolutely love talking about all of the funky things languages do! I hope these recommendations tickle your fancy!

Dialect, by Thorny Games.

Dialect is a game about an isolated community, their language, and what it means for that language to be lost. In this game, you’ll tell the story of the Isolation by building their language. New words will come from the fundamental aspects of the community: who they are, what they believe in, and how they respond to a changing world.

Dialect uses a deck of cards to help minimize the amount of choices you have to make in character creation, by dealing three cards to each player and having the players choose one from just those three. You track the change of your language over a series of turns, using prompts to help you navigate the conversations that arise in your community as the world around them changes.

Dialect has been very highly regarded as a game that really delivers on the experience that it promises. The grief that accompanies language death really shines through this game, so if you want to combine the wonder of creation with the pain of losing something so integral to your sense of being, this is the game for you.

Tiny Frog Wizards, by @prokopetz

You have mastered the secret arts of sorcery

The very primordial energies of creation and destruction are yours to wield as you will.

You are two inches tall.

Tiny Frog Wizards is a game about tiny frogs, wielding magic using the power of words. When you want to do something magical, you will roll somewhere between 1-3 dice, and use the values of your rolled dice to determine how the range, magnitude, and control of your magic.

What’s important in terms of this game recommendation is the Control aspect, because how well you are able to wield your magic depends on how many words you are able to use to make things happen! It’s a lot easier to use a spell with precision if you have enough words to detail where you want a magical pen to write, or what you want to throw a tiny magic missile at. Not enough words? Then the GM has license to cause some humorous side effects, or, if you roll poorly enough, cause your spells to really go off the rails.

If you like games where you need to choose your words carefully, Tiny Frog Wizards is worth checking out - especially since it’s in free playtest!

Xenolanguage, by Thorny Games.

Xenolanguage is a tabletop role-playing game about first contact with alien life, messy human relationships and what happens when they mix together.  At its core, you explore your pivotal relationships with others on the mission as you uncover meaning in an alien language. The game gives a nod to soulful sci-fi media like Arrival, Story of Your Life and Contact, but tells its own story. It’s a game for 2-4 players in 3-4 hours.

In Xenolangauge, you play as a group of people bound together through a shared past with unsettled questions. Your task is to understand why the aliens have come and what they are trying to tell us. You will soon discover the key to understanding lies in your memories together.

This is definitely an in-person game, as it is meant to come with a modular channeling board that will provide you with alien symbols that you will use to help you interpret messages. This is more than a game about language, it’s about relationship, shared memories, and connection.

Xenolanguage was kickstarted at the beginning of this year, but you can check out the above link to pre-order the game if this sounds interesting to you!

Star-Spawned, by Penguin King Games.

One unearthly night, a ray of colourless light descended from the stars, and under its warping radiance, creatures unlike any the world has ever seen were born. They do not know the world, and they do not know themselves. Unfortunately for the world, they're quick learners!

Star-Spawned is a GMless, oneshot-oriented tabletop RPG in which you don't know what your own traits do when play begins. The names of each group's stats are randomly generated using morpheme chaining, and characters are created while having absolutely no idea what they mean; figuring that out forms the greater part of play.

Star-Spawned is more about self discovery than it is about language, but the use of morpheme-chaining in character creation is intriguing to me. You will randomly roll three pieces of a word, and then chain them together to create a unique Facet, available to the players as stats. These Facets don’t have a meaning when the game begins - you need to play to find out what they mean. If you like playing around with semantics - the meaning of words - this might be a game for you.

Degenerate Semantics, by Mikael Andersson.

Degenerate Semantics is a role-playing game for 1-5 players and one Game Master (GM). The players will each portray a character who live in Emmaloopen's poverty-stricken lower city. They are young, wild, ambitious, and independent. This way of life is threatened by other factions, and the players will need to have their characters work together to survive and thrive.

In the process of playing the game, the players and GM will define and flesh out a language called Bandethal. A collection of street terms and slang, Bandethal is used both as a way to talk openly about illicit activities without alerting authorities and to establish street cred. The terms are liberally mixed in with plain English, or when the language is mature enough, can be used entirely on its own. The characters' success is in large part based on how proficiently the players wield the language.

A friend of mine ran this game for me three or four years ago, and it’s been sitting in the back of my head ever since. Degenerate Semantics was created for a Game Chef competition in 2014, and has remained in the same state since then. I don’t think there’s any more work being done on it, but the game is there for anyone who wants to give it a go - and while there’s a setting that comes with the game, that setting is highly flexible, depending on what your group is interested in. Our group decided to use a lot of gardening metaphors, and undertook a plant-based heist as our act of rebellion! If you want a game about the power that language can give a tightly-knit group, this is the game for you.

I've Also Recommended...

DROWWORD, by Ursidice.

[somethinginthewayiam]

The girl behind the bar (Part 2)

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x plus-size reader

warnings: class A banter

words: 3.5k

Summary: You're getting better at your job rather quickly. You already had some regulars, a group of naval aviators in particular. Sadly, Hangman was one of them. Today, you meet a new member of the group...

a/n: Thank you all so much for the likes and comments. I hope you like this one just as much.

Link to my masterlist

Your shifts at the bar got better by the day. Just like you had promised Penny, you learned quickly and improved every day. You already made out some of the regulars who were mostly Navy, young and old, retired, active and newbies, including some naval aviators that were stationed at North Island and the Hard Deck was their afterwork hangout.

You knew most of the naval aviators by their call signs, some even by their regular names. They liked you and you liked them. You seemed to find your footing in San Diego and it felt like it could become your home for at least a little while with every day that passed.

It was another busy evening at the Hard Deck. You still didn’t have the speed that Penny had in serving drinks but she also had three years more experience under her belt, at least here at the Hard Deck.

“Here you go”, you put two tall glasses of beer in front of two older gentlemen that definitely were part of the regulars; retired Navy. “Who’s driving tonight?”, you asked them. “Bert over here”, Carl said and pointed at his friend next to him. His actual name was Ernie but his call-sign was Bert as in Bert and Ernie. Carl’s call-sign was Ping-Pong.

You always thought that everything relating to military had to be super serious and tough, but as it turned out with every naval aviator you met, the names got funnier.

“Alright Bert, you know what that means. One more beer and I’m cutting you off”, you explained like they didn’t know the drill. “Women. Always nagging”, Bert shook his head but with a playful smile on his lips. You knew he was joking and you liked the exchange. “I just don’t wanna lose my favorite customer”, you told him and patted his hand that rested on the bar top. “You make an old man very happy”, he said and put his hand over yours. “Bert! You’re making me blush”, you told him and put your other hand over his. Ping-Pong put his hand on top of yours and now there was a tower of hands. “I felt excluded”, he simply said when you looked over at him and made the three of you laugh.

“Bradshaw!”, you heard Phoenix, a female naval aviator you had come to know through your work at the bar, exclaim over the crowd from the pool table as you turned away from the men to serve other customers. You looked at her first and then followed her eyes to a young man, probably the same age as she was, wearing a Hawaiian shirt as he walked past the bar counter, weaving his way through the crowd towards Phoenix. You just saw his profile and noticed that he was sporting a moustache.

Your attention got pulled away from him by other customers wanting to be served. You looked over at the group by the pool table from time to time. The Hawaiian shirt was an interesting contrast to the khaki uniforms he was surrounded by. You noticed how Hangman and the new guy seemingly went at it with intense stares and tense body language. Maybe they had a past or Hangman was just getting to him. That man could be unnerving.

You delivered a few drink orders to tables and got a new box of beer bottles out of storage when the new guy suddenly appeared at the counter. “Just a moment”, you told him as you put away the last few beers into the cooler. “Sure, take your time”, he said with no hint of sarcasm or impatience. You liked him already.

“Alright, what can I get ya?”, you asked and pushed a strand of your hair that had come loose from the big hair clip behind your ear. It was the first time you got a good look at his face and it was a pretty one. He really pulled off the mustache which wasn’t an easy task. The sunglasses he had on when coming in were now dangling at the neckline of his white shirt.

“A beer, please”, he placed his order. You grabbed a bottle out of the cooler and opened it. “Here you go. That makes 8,50”, you placed the beer in front of him with a smile. He returned the smile as he put a 10-dollar bill on the counter. “Thanks. The rest is for you, sweetheart”, he said and winked at you. He had a charming coolness about him. “Thank you”, you said as you took the money. He didn’t leave immediately but instead was looking at you with the same smile from before. “I’m Bradley”, he mentioned and extended his hand. “Y/N”, you told him and grabbed his hand for a surprisingly nice handshake.

“How do you know Phoenix?”, you asked him as you put the money in the register. “We met at the naval academy a few years ago”, he told you and leaned against the counter, taking a sip of his beer. “So, you’re a pilot, too?”, you inquired but weren’t really surprised as he nodded his head. “Yes, ma’am”, he said. “What’s your call-sign?”, you continued with your questionnaire. “Rooster”, he answered and looked at you like he was a bit surprised that you knew what a call-sign was. “I just remember the call-signs better than the actual names. I don’t know why”, you explained with a chuckle and shrugged your shoulders.

“Rooster!”, Phoenix called him over to play a game of pool. “Thanks for the beer, sweetheart”, he said. “Thanks for the tip”, you said in return before Rooster pushed himself off the counter and walked over to his friends.

When you looked over, about two seats down from where you stood, you found Hangman looking at you.

"Why does he get to call you sweetheart without you getting all snappy on him?", Hangman asked after he witnessed Rooster calling you by, what he thought was, your hated nickname and instead of getting mad at him you just shot Rooster a wide smile.

"Because despite how our first meeting went, he patiently waited for his drink, said thank you AND tipped me", you explained to the aviator while you walked towards him.

After your first encounter, you had a few more run-ins of the same kind. Always douchey on his part and you always countered in a sarcastic, witty way, or so you’d liked to think.

"I tipped you on the next round", he countered. "I tipped myself on your next round", you told him, hinting at the douchebag tax you charged him.

"But with my money. And I paid your fantasy tax", he doubled down. "Tax isn't something you can avoid, fantasy or not. That's not how the IRS works", you lectured him in a playful seriousness.

"Good god, you're killing me, sweetheart", he rolled his eyes at you. "If only, Bagman, if only. And don't call me sweetheart", you told him off, intentionally using Phoenix' version of his call sign that you knew he hated.

“Are you just here to complain or do you want something from me?”, you asked him and wiped down the counter in front of him. “A beer, doll”, he placed his order. “A definite no to doll”, you immediately told him and wagged your finger in front of his face. “I’m just working my way through the nicknames until you like something or you give in. I don’t mind either way”, he shrugged his shoulder. “Rooster called me ma’am. I can work with that”, you told him and placed a fresh bottle of beer before him.

“I’m not calling you ma’am. I’d rather follow my original plan”, he countered. “You know what might be a crazy idea? Calling someone by their birthname”, you told him and rested your hands on the counter. He stared you down with his piercing green eyes and you felt a little twist in your stomach.

“Nah, that’s not fun”, he simply stated and shot you a wide smile, showing off his pearly whites before he got up and walked back to the others.

You shook your head over his cockiness which could get on your nerves sometimes and it really did, but the banter between the two of you was actually quite fun. The way he presented himself would have you think he was not very popular but actually the opposite was the case.

The way his teammates talked to and about him let you know that he had their respect but he also demanded it. He had no problem voicing that he was always top of the class, one of the best if not the best. He exuded BDE when entering a room, talked up a girl or got up against Rooster for what seemed like pretty much anything.

You didn’t know another way to describe it but he was a pretty boy with a HUGE ego and needed to be put in his place from time to time and you’d happily be the one to do it.

It was later in the evening when the jukebox suddenly stopped playing. You didn’t notice at first because of the wall of voices in the well-filled bar, only when you heard someone tickling the ivories of the piano that was standing right next to the bar circle.

You were making your rounds, collecting empty glasses and beer bottles as you heard someone starting to sing. When you looked up, you found Rooster sitting at the piano and his friends Phoenix, Payback, Fanboy and Bob were standing around him, joining in on his singing. You had just stopped at a table close to them, filling up the last space on your already full trey and smiled at the joy they had singing together. When Phoenix spotted you as you walked past them, she pulled you into the round. You only had about time to quickly put your tray down on the bar top, careful not to drop anything.

"Do you know 'Great balls of fire'?", she screamed in your ear over the music and loud singing around you. "Yes, but...", you tried to answer but she just shoved you next to the piano into Roosters vision. The current song had just ended and Phoenix tapped Roosters shoulder. "Play ‘Great balls of fire’, she’ll sing with you", she shouted at his ear over the loud noise in the bar. "No, guys, I have to work and I don't really wanna sing", you told them and wanted to get back to your trey of empty glasses.

Instead of listening to you, Rooster just started playing and Phoenix and Fanboy blocked your way out of the little circle that had formed around Rooster and you.

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain”, Rooster started singing the first line and then looked at you. You just looked at him with big eyes. People from the crowd started looking at you, too, as they expected you to sing as you stood right next to the piano. Rooster just played the part again and again.

"I play it until you sing", he shouted over the music. You looked at him with a distraught look on your face. People started whistling as they got annoyed at the same tune being played over and over again. Phoenix held her bottle of beer in front of you and nudged you with her shoulder. You got a feeling that Rooster could be relentless when he wanted something. You groaned, grabbed the bottle of beer and took a big chug before you handed it back to Phoenix.

"Start again", you told Rooster with your finger moving in a circle in mid-air and cleared your throat. He sang the first line again and this time you picked up the second part of the verse right away. “Too much love drives a man insane.”

You didn't sound bad, quite the opposite, Rooster thought to himself. He sang the next line and you sang back the next. "Louder, Y/N", he yelled and when the chorus came around you sang at the top of your lungs like everybody else around you.

“I’ve changed my mind, this love is fine. Goodness gracious, GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!”, you shouted along with everybody else.

“Kiss me baby”, Rooster sang and tapped his cheek with his finger for a moment before continuing to play. You guessed you were swept up in the moment because you bent down and kissed his cheek.

“Ooh, feels good”, he sang and shook his shoulders like your kiss actually made him shiver. Instead of singing along, you let out a laugh that was swallowed by the music and dozens of voices singing along.

When Rooster started playing the instrumental part in the middle of the song, he was really going off. You had no idea he was that good. He looked so cool and totally in his element. And on top of that, he was a fighter pilot. No wonder the girls were throwing themselves at him and he had easy game wherever he went.

You had to admit you were totally amazed and hypnotized by him at that moment. And when the line “Kiss me baby” came again, he didn’t have to ask you to give him a kiss on his cheek again.

You bent down to place your lips on his clean-shaven cheek but at the last second, he spun his head around and pressed his lips directly onto yours. “Ooh, feels good”, he sang even louder and threw you a mischievous smile while he kept playing.

Your eyes got big and you felt your cheeks burning up. Rooster was a real player and not just of the piano.

When you finally broke out of your paralyzed state, you playfully slapped his shoulder and joined back in at “Got to tell this world that you’re mine, mine, mine, mine”.

You had to admit you had fun singing with them. When everybody was really going off to another round of the chorus, you saw your chance and sneaked off, grabbing the trey of glasses, and making a beeline around the bar, getting behind the counter.

"Sorry, Penny, they made me sing", you apologized when you came face to face with your boss, starting to put the glasses into the baskets for the dishwasher. "Who knew you had a pipe on you, Y/N?", Penny said and lightly bumped her hips into yours, not looking the least bit mad that you had just taken a singing break in the middle of your shift on a really busy night.

When the song finally ended, everybody cheered and clapped for Rooster. He jumped up on the piano bench and pointed towards the bar. "And give it up for Y/N", he yelled and you saw dozens of heads turning towards you which made your cheeks blush again immediately. Everybody cheered just as loud for you and it sent an excited tingle up your spine. You blew your maestro a kiss from behind the counter and got back to taking drink orders.

Fanboy, Payback and Phoenix sat at the bar, Bob and Rooster stood behind them, completing the circle. Jake and Coyote also sat at the bar, a bit to the side.

When you walked up, you heard the group talking about fake boobs. You placed a new round of beers in front of them and managed to make out who they were talking about. They were all not so subtly looking at a tall blonde at the back of the bar talking to a guy, her boobs suspiciously big and high up for her overall size.

“I don’t know man, I can’t say. Not without touching them”, Fanboy said and cocked his head to the side as he studied the view. “Yeah, as you would ever get the chance to do that”, Phoenix commented.

You wiped the counter and smiled to yourself. “They’re totally fake”, you commented and all their heads turned to you. “Really? How do you know?”, Payback asked. “When she laughs, and she laughs with her whole body, they don’t give at all”, you explained and all their heads turned back to the woman. And as luck would have it, just at that moment she let out a big laugh, holding on to that guy’s arm. She’s totally going home with him tonight, you thought to yourself.

Even after your little time behind the bar, you got really good at spotting stuff like that. And Penny was really good at sniffing out when a fight’s about to break out and defusing the situation.

“Oh yeah, you’re right”, Fanboy said as he made the discovery. “Why do you know so much about fake boobs?”, Rooster asked intrigued. “I worked as a receptionist for a beauty doc in New York”, you told them. “Did you see a lot of boobs?”, Fanboy kept asking. “Probably more than you”, you commented, you couldn’t help yourself. The group laughed and Rooster gave you a high five.

“But it’s ridiculous how expensive they are. Well, if you want it to be good, at least”, you told them further.

The main rush of the night was over and you had a little time to talk, not needing to hand out new drinks every two seconds.

“What was the most expensive pair you’ve ever seen?”, Phoenix asked you. You thought for a second. “I think the craziest were 8k a piece”, you told them and their eyes got big. “For boobs?”, Rooster said a little loud and some heads turned his way. Out of the corner of your eyes you saw Hangman looking over.

“It’s crazy how much people are willing to pay for stuff like that. I could never afford anything close to that. But I have to admit they looked spectacular”, you said and formed perfectly round boobs in front of your chest.

“To be fair, you have no need in that department”, Payback toasted you with his beer. Anybody else might have made it sound gross or sleezy, but he had a real charm about him and you knew how he meant it.

“Thank you, but just because they’re natural doesn’t mean they were cheap. The right one’s mostly McDonalds and the left one’s pizza. That’s because it is also the bigger one”, you told them with a smirk. As prove, you bent over and pulled your shirt down a bit, revealing the hem of your breasts. “See?”, you said and had them look directly down your cleavage.

Partially you meant it as a joke, but also you were sure that even they all liked to flirt and joke around, none of them actually considered you as sexy or a potentially datable person. That was just never the case for you. Why should it be different with them?

“Okay, shows over”, you pulled your shirt back up and snapped your fingers in front of their faces. “Pay up, it’s late”, you told them and made them close their tabs for the night. They waved a goodbye at you before they left the bar as a group.

“Pay up”, you said to Hangman as you made your rounds of closing the tabs of the remaining customers. Coyote must have left already as he was sitting there alone.

“So, you moved here from New York?”, Hangman asked as he handed you his credit card, having no trouble admitting that he had eavesdropped on your conversation. “No, from New Jersey”, you answered, not planning on going into more detail as you swiped his card through the machine. “And there were no more jobs left in New Jersey so you decided to torment the good people of San Diego?”, he asked and a mocking smile appeared on his face.

“You know, it has always been my dream to move across the country to become a bartender, getting to serve a green-eyed jerk for a living”, you told Hangman and handed his card back to him.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Here I am to make your dreams come true”, he said with a wink and a sleezy smile.

You waited for a moment then leaned over the bar counter to look at the floor right in front of it. “Nope, you didn’t drop dead. But a girl can dream”, you shot at him with a fake smile.

“You can dream as much as you want about me”, he said with a cocky smile plastered across his face.

“Why are you so easy on the eyes but so hard on the ears?”, you asked him with an eyeroll. “So, you think I’m pretty?”, he asked in return and leaned his underarms on the bar top. “No, you think you’re pretty. And that’s the problem. Have you ever considered therapy? Or a good hit to the back of your head?”, you suggested and polished some glasses.

“Sometimes I get my head banged against the headboard, I don’t always have to be on top”, he told you. You exaggerated a dry-heave motion and sound and Hangman let out a big laugh.

“See ya, Y/N”, he said as he pushed himself off the bar and walked towards the exit. “I hope not”, you called after him.

You turned around to put away the freshly polished glasses and tried your hardest not to picture Jake in bed, naked and sweaty. But you failed. Failed miserably.

next: Part 3

[kinardsevan]

i was watching some Gabriel Iglesias jokes and he was discussing the correlation between men and wine, and it made me need to write this. 🤣🤣🤣🤣 call it another trip down the outsider view of bucktommyweek, even though it's now September.

-

“Lucky bitch.” 

Taylor mutters under her breath as she shifts in her seat, waiting on her date now for at least ten minutes past when he last texted he’d be around. She’s not even sure why she’s still waiting, but she doesn’t have any other plans for the evening, and she’s not about to spend another night at the station editing footage together her field report on the wildfire in the Angeles National Forest. But as she stares across at the man a few tables over, he seems to be held up as well, checking his watch and phone every few seconds. He has two empty wine glasses on the table with him, and a bottle resting in ice. She recognizes enough of the label to know that it’s not cheap. She stares at him for a time, contemplates getting up and going over, asking if he wants company. He’s tall and muscular, beefy, as the youths say today, and she hasn’t been with a guy like that since…well, since Buck. And truth be told, even Buck wasn’t as muscular as this Adonis sitting feet away from her. 

All at once, she’s both irritated, jealous, and annoyed. Irritated that this specimen of a man is sitting so close, yet so far away, and he’s not there for her; jealous for exactly that reason, and annoyed that she’s still waiting on the arrival of her date when she could be chatting up the man sitting at the other table. Still, she’s not entirely sure what stops her. Maybe it’s the way he seems to have an invisible box up around him, shutting everyone else out, or the way he keeps staring at his phone, waiting on whoever hasn’t arrived to meet him yet. Maybe it’s because of something else she can’t put her finger on. Either way, she doesn’t get a whole lot of time to piece it together, because her own date finally arrives a few seconds later, and before he can launch into a list of excuses as to what took him so long, she stops him. 

“First of all, I wait on no one, so this is your singular warning to not do this to me again,” she states. “Second, I’ve already ordered appetizers because I’ve been here waiting all this time for you to arrive, so third, I hope you’re prepared to pick up the check.” 

Somehow, a miracle, she thinks, the man sits down in the seat across from her, finally launching into his speech about why he was late, and she’s a little shocked he didn’t bail at her lecture. She’s pulled it out before—laid out her expectations front and center—with the understanding that she won’t be treated like a petulant teenager because someone else can’t keep their time straight. 

After the long-winded excuse, the appetizer arrives, and then there’s an order of their own drinks and the main course, and the next time she looks over at the beautiful man, his date has clearly arrived, although Taylor can’t see her between the other patrons around them now. What she can see, is the gorgeous man smiling, enraptured by whatever his date is telling him, a twinkle in his eye as he sips from his wine. At the same time, her own date drones on about his day job, and all she can think, yet again, is lucky bitch.

. . .

“Oh come on, not this motherfucker again.” 

It’s four weeks later when she sees him again. They aren’t even at the same restaurant. He’s being delivered to a booth this time while she sits at a different table, waiting on a different date. Late guy didn’t even make it to her doorstep. She’d abandoned him in the parking lot of the restaurant after he’d made a comment about journalists being hacks. And now, when she’s having to meet Kenny, one of the network higher-ups about trying to gain more of an anchoring position, this jackass has to be front and center for her again. 

She tries to ignore his presence by scrolling through her phone, even taking time to scroll through Tinder. Still, she mostly swipes left as the tables around her fill up. Once again, she’s left waiting while other people start their meals, enjoy their dates, and so forth. When she looks up at the pretty one again, it’s clear that his girlfriend has arrived because he’s got that same stupid smile on his face, although maybe a bit more subdued? Like maybe everything isn’t perfect in fantasy land? She wiggles an eyebrow to herself, contemplating her chances again over whether she should introduce herself to the walking Statue of David. But then the network bigwig is arriving and taking her attention away from the pretty one, and the next time she looks over, she sees him holding someone’s hand. Well so much for that. 

. . . 

“You have got to be kidding me.” 

Six weeks. She’d gone six weeks without seeing the sexpot that was the beautiful man who was now plaguing her dreams. And, like, it’s not like she was fantasizing about him or anything…but she was very aware of how gorgeous he was both times she’d seen him previously, and she couldn’t help herself, taking inventory of him. Those muscles, that jaw, the curl of his hair…

Except, tonight he’s less buttoned-up. The sleeves of the maroon henley he has on are shoved up to his elbows, exposing the sinewy lines of his arms, as though he completed a workout not that long ago. But it’s the jeans that do it for her; the way they hug his ass and thighs, and all over again, she’s jealous. And also now, now she’s angry. She’s angry that she keeps getting roped into these stupid nowhere dates and network meetings that aren’t gaining her the traction she wants, but some other girl out there is getting to ride that stallion all over fucking Los Angeles. When is she going to get her turn? 

Clearly not tonight, because date number four with the guy she’s been out with over the past two weeks is starting out the same way the last three have—he’s late. And the thing is, Taylor gets being late. Reporters are, by nature, always late to the scene. It’s a minor miracle when they’re actually at a place, much less with cameras rolling when an event happens. More often than not though, they only get the aftermath, so she can rationalize not being on time all the time…. But this guy hasn’t been on time once. And they specifically picked this restaurant because it was closer to his place than hers. And yet…

The pretty one is on his phone, looking rather perturbed as he listens to whoever is on the other end of the line. She watches as his expression goes from that, to one of concern, a pause to smile and laugh—there’s that stupid twinkle again. Does this bitch even realize how good she has it?—back to the worried expression. He’s too far away for her to make out what he’s saying, but before long, he’s slapping money on the counter and leaving before she can figure out what’s driving his attention. Her journalist skills have her wanting to get up and leave, follow after the man and find out what has him so concerned all of a sudden…but her stupid date comes through the dining room then, already rattling off an excuse. She stands, lists all the reasons that she’s not staying and why there won’t be another date—and why the tab is on him for the drinks she had while waiting—but by the time she makes it to the parking lot, the beautiful man is gone. 

Taylor huffs. 

. . . 

Three weeks later, she’s sitting at a table in a coffee house, reading through an article she’s written up. She’s gotten a decent amount of bylines since her book got published, and if things are going to continue to fuck her over at her current network, then maybe it’s time for a change. Besides, she’s heard some good things back from a friend down at the sister network a few miles over, so why not? 

The door chimes, and she ignores it, along with whoever walks in and up to the counter. They’re too far away for her to really hear, but she looks up when a barista comes to her table with freshly ordered latté and scone…

…and her eyes fall directly onto one Evan Fucking Buckley. She stares at him with a furrowed brow for a minute. He’s in his LAFD hoodie and a pair of dark joggers, probably coming off of a shift and heading home, if his generally slumped composure is anything to go by. There’s a generous bruising along the side of his jaw that has her curious, but they haven’t spoken in quite some time—not since a few weeks after he was struck by lightening, and even then, it was a short conversation—so she’s not about to step back into his life and start asking questions. 

Still, she’s taken by seeing him out in the wild. She watches briefly as he makes small talk with the barista behind the counter—someone he clearly knows well. While she can’t hear them or read lips, she can tell by their postures that the barista is asking about the bruise, and he’s quick to dismiss it, as though having his face that color is just normal. Still, she doesn’t want to eavesdrop, and before long, she’s looking back at her computer, trying to work on the article she has up. 

The door chimes again, and this time, she looks up, only because her brain is still atuned to picking out Buck’s voice in a crowd. Still, her brow furrows when she overhears ‘hi, honey’. 

She looks back up, glancing around the café, very confused when she doesn’t see another female striding up to him. Instead, her jaw slacks open as her eyes fall on him. The fucking beautiful man. The one from the restaurants—the one she’d been so jealous about. And he-…wait what!? She watches him stride right up to Buck and slide a hand down his back right over his ass and use the other to turn his cheek with fingers wrapped around his chin, clearly eyeing the bruise. Buck nods—clearly having been asked if he’s okay—and then the gorgeous one kisses him and Taylor is pretty sure at that point her brain is in a puddle on the tabletop. 

A moment later though, she quickly recomposes herself, because they must’ve felt her staring, when Buck looks over in her direction. His brow furrows briefly, and then he lifts a hand and waves. She gives the slightest hint of an affiliative smile and a quick wave back, turning her attention back to her computer. She’d been right, all of those times she’d seen the gorgeous man before. He was taken, and the person lucky enough to have him was in fact a lucky bitch. 

She just never expected the lucky bitch to be her ex-boyfriend; and that spurred a jealousy all of its own. 

[johnbrand]

The Basement

With @next-pharaoh

“Richie?” Billy called out into the hazy basement. “Richie, are you down here?”

Billy had never thought of Richie as a religious kind-of-guy, nor a Muslim for that matter. What other reason would he have had to come down into the creepy, old mosque? Heck, Richie’s whole family was Catholic, the stereotypical devout Latin family. Billy’s too, although of a Polish heritage instead. That was probably why they had always gotten along so well–they could bond through trauma.

“Richie?” Billy asked once more. The basement was rather small, just a single room with a twin mattress, a few sheets, and a tiny window shining the bare minimum amount of sunlight into the space. The place was covered in dust, something Billy unfortunately had not noticed until he had patted down his all-black outfit, surprised to find it covered in the pale powder.

“Alright, that’s it,” Billy grumbled. “I can’t even get reception down here anyway.”

That was how this had all started. Billy had received an emergency text with a location from Richie that he had been locked and needed help. However, that text had taken over 24 hours to deliver. Billy had rushed over here as fast as he could, but now he could not find Richie anywhere. Perplexed, he made his way back to the basement’s door, not expecting to find it locked.

“No…” Billy spoke to no one in particular. “No, no no!”

Frantically, Billy pulled at the handle, hoping, praying that it would come off. And yet, no matter how hard he tried, it would not budge. It was times like these that he wished he would have participated in some athletics throughout his schooling career, rather than focusing on communications and the arts. 

“Hello!” Billy shouted, banging on the door. “Can anyone hear me?!” He grabbed his phone and quickly sent out a text to his friend, not surprised when it was unable to go through. Backing away from the door, Billy began to consider what he could do. Someone would have to find him eventually, right? Phones had tracking devices, so it would not take long before people questioned where he was. And the window, maybe from there he could-

“Oh-!” Clumsily, Billy fell back onto the twin bed, so preoccupied in his thoughts that he had not paid attention to his footing. The dust flew up in a cloud around him, slowly cascading over his body. The particles coated his sandy-colored hair and fair skin as if he had been hit by a bag of flour. A bit embarrassed, Billy coughed, inhaling some of the dust.

“Gosh, what is this stuff…?” Billy questioned, his head suddenly a bit dizzy. “Is it…powdered salt…?”

Slowly, Billy’s body fell back onto bed, an encroaching weariness enveloping him. Within moments, he was fast asleep while the dust began carefully absorbing into his being.

———

Rashid unlocked the door to the mosque’s basement. He already possessed the keys to the lock, and he knew not to reopen the door until at least daybreak. Well, at least not while the current convert is awake. It was necessary for Rashid to go in while the convert was resting to provide the necessary materials.

“Ah, I see you are awake,” the strong, proud Muslim announced in Arabic as he swung open the door. “And already studying the analysis of the Hadith book I provided you with.” 

“Yes, thank you brother,” the reply came back, also in Arabic.

“Do the pants fit you alright, Bilal?” Rashid asked. 

“They will carry the load.” With his massive hand, Bilal cupped his mighty Arab meat to emphasize his point. Rashid took a once over of Bilal, taking in the bronzed alpha and confirming the dimensions he had hypothesized in his head. Bilal was tall, muscular, a perfect specimen of Islamic masculinity. His chest would ideally slide into the thobe Rashid had ordered for him, and his wide feet would easily fill the Nike sandals Rashid had set aside.

“Now Bilal, are you ready to promote the genetic Arabization of the world?” Rashid demanded. “To defend Arab interests, to sacrifice individuality for global brotherhood?”

Bilal immediately nodded, his fate had already been sealed.

Rashid smiled, “I assume you have already left your past behind?”

Smirking, Bilal motioned his head towards the drying white splurge behind him. By the afternoon, it would become just another part of the basement’s transformative dust.

With a nod, Rashid ushered Bilal up, and the two made their way out of the basement and back into the mosque. They prayed together, feasted together, and were preparing to leave the mosque just as a frightened Asian-American boy rushed past them.

“Billy? Billy!” His shouts echoed throughout the hall as he dashed into the religious hallways. Rashid and Bilal exchanged knowing smiles. They held hands and bid farewell, the keys transferring between their hands.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Wife Girlfriend Training (Tengen x Black!Self-Insert!reader 18+ One Shot) [COMMISSION FILL]

Synopsis: When Tengen puts in a big order to your bakery and you're short-staffed, you deliver it yourself only to find Uzui home alone. To repay you for the trip, he invites you in for dinner where things take a major turn when he finally admits his and his wives’ attraction to you. You’ve never been in a poly relationship before, so Tengen gives you an introduction to what it would be like to be his 4th girl...including some “training” of his own.

Tags: Smutty Smut; 18+; Self-Insert!Reader; Plus-Sized!Reader; Poly Relationship; Sister Wives; Highkey Flirting; Strangers to Lovers; Daddy Kink; Spanking; Tengen Has A Big Dick; Multiple Positions; Oral (Giving & Receiving); Deepthroating; Mutual Masturbation; Big Dick Training; Dirty Talk; Choking; Dom!Tengen/sub!Reader; mild BDSM; Creampie; Reader Cums 3x

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you! 

Writer’s Note: My very first Tengen fic!! I love me ALL of him & his big ass arms. I’ve thought about him bending me over MANY TIMES. His wives too. We all married. Anyways, a special thank you as always to @curiouscutie143 aka Tengen’s 5th wife (I’m his 4th) for trusting me to bring her fantasies to life & paying me to do it ❤️ I hope you all enjoy! -Jazz

*******

When the bell hanging above the door to your bakery tinkles, you look up so fast that you nearly get whiplash. 

You expect to see a familiar, tall hunk with braided, silver locks or one of his gorgeous, black-haired beauties in the doorway of your business place, but your heart droops in disappointment when all you see is an old woman with her support dog—a regular. Not the regulars you want to see. 

The small, white-haired woman waves at you and you wave back, putting a smile on your face. As she takes a seat at her regular booth, one of your employees goes to take her order.

You busy yourself cleaning off the counters and display cases of your baked goods when your friend and coworker comes walking out of the kitchen doors with a tray of cookies. “Got the batch of chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin ready for you.”

She sets the tray down and wipes her hands off on her apron. You’re wearing your own which is coated in flour from this morning’s batch of homemade cake batter that you stored in the freezer for future cake orders. “Thank you. I just need to decorate them now.” With a huff and an “oof”, you bend down to get some colored frosting out of the mini freezer under the counter. 

You work quickly, squeezing tiny designs and flowers on the cookies in time for the lunch rush. Right now, it is the morning, so the usual customers you receive are just for coffee. While you work, your friend fills in an online order for a pastry and a lavender latte. You can tell from the way she’s looking at you from the corner of your eye that she’s about to make a joke. 

“What, your boyfriend ain’t visit you yet?” She asks, looking at the front door. “Will he bring your girlfriends too?” You turn around and point the frost baster at her. She jumps back, laughing. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you growl. “Now stop saying that if you value your clothes.” 

You abruptly turn around and continue your work, ignoring the way your body hums at the thought of your anticipated visitors. “Well, he sure seems to think so,” your friend giggles as she places the flaky pastry in a paper bag. “Every time he’s in here, he always looks like he wants to take you home with his girls, rip off your apron, and—“ 

The sound of the bell on your door ringing, fortunately, stops her, but it isn’t your so-called “boyfriend” or “girlfriends”. It’s just a businessman coming in for his morning coffee. You sigh and shoot a sharp look at your knowing friend who skips off to make a latte. You try to distract yourself from your thoughts by working, but your fingers feel numb and you can’t seem to focus so much on the cookies. 

All because of that damn Hashira hunk and his three beautiful wives. Dammit. You almost wish Tengen Uzui never entered your bakery five months ago, but then again, it’s brought in a lot of business. To have a popular Demon Slayer Corp and his crew come in to indulge in your bakery has upped your sales and given you new customers. Tengen is one of them. He and his wives have become regulars of yours since Tengen stumbled into your bakery all those months ago. 

And he literally stumbled. One of his wives, with her twinkling indigo eyes and shoulder-length black locks, dragged him into your bakery. Her blue kimono was short enough to draw eyes to her thighs and impressive rack. “In here, in here, Tengen-sama!” She excitedly shouted. “Look-it! They have the cutest cakes here!” 

You had turned around with a welcoming smile, expecting it to be a dad and his daughter, but you were mistaken when you caught the glimpse of the gorgeous woman and her equally gorgeous man getting yanked on by the arm. 

He was the most beautiful man you had ever seen in your life. About six-foot-something, he towered over Suma and was built like a goddamn tank. Your eyes didn’t know what to land and stay on. His silver locks of hair? His handsome face? His gorgeous crimson eye? His charming smile? His big ass arms? 

He was big in all of the right places, his body impressively huge and toned, and seemed to make your bakery look like a dollhouse. An eyepatch adorned with three crystals covered his right eye while the other looked right at you from behind the counter. The smile that crossed his lips nearly made you shiver in delight. 

Behind him were his two other wives, one with orange and black hair and a red kimono—Maiko—and one with long black hair tied into a ponytail, violet eyes, and an endearing mole on her right cheek—Hinatsuru. Each wife was beautiful, toned, and had racks you unconsciously stared at. Quickly, you looked away, feeling like a pervert. You hated being bi sometimes. Why must God punish you with hot guys and girls while at work? 

“Suma, c’mon now, really!” Maiko scoffed, her hands on her hips and a scowl on her pretty face. “You can’t just run off with Tengen-sama like that! You know how he feels about us getting separated!” 

Suma pouted, playing with her black locks. “But I just wanted to look at the cakes,” she murmured, staring longingly at the display of cakes and tarts by you at the front desk. Tengen chuckled, the deep rumble of his chuckle making your insides turn. “I think that she can explain more about ‘em to you, darling,” he gently said. “Hello, miss. Is this your bakery?” 

All three of his wives looked at you as if they just realized you were standing there. They must have because Hinatsuru immediately gasps, horrified. “Oh, miss, we’re so sorry! We didn’t even notice you there!” She bowed respectfully. “Please forgive us for our rudeness.” 

Maiko did the same and forced Suma to bend forward as well in an apologetic bow. Tengen did the same with ease. “No, no, it’s fine!” You protested, suddenly sweating under your apron and despite the AC pumping cool air around you. “You were too focused on the cakes and I don’t blame you. I made them last night if you four would like a sample.” 

Suma popped up and gasped like an excited kid. “Really?! Oh, my gosh, thank you so, so much, Ms…er….” She stopped and squinted curiously at you, looking around your body for a name tag. Maiko rolled her eyes while Hinatmusu giggled into her dainty hand. 

“V,” you answered. “I’m the owner of this bakery.” Tengen laughed at his wife and offered his big hand across the counter. “Tengen Uzui, 8th Demon Slayer Corp member,” he said in his deep, luscious voice. “Pleasure to meet you. These are my wives, Suma, Maiko, and Hinatsuru.” 

“Please, just call me Hina,” Hinatsuru replied with a kind smile that made you think of blossoming flowers. Suma gave you a cute wave while Maiko seemed to not know what to do and just blushed despite her standoffish attitude. You took Tengen’s hand and shook it, noticing the rings adorning his fingers and the bracelets jingling against his wrist. He was so…flashy. 

You were so focused on his jewelry that you almost missed that he said “wives” and “eighth Demon Corp member”. You kept a smile on your face as you shook his hand, ignoring the way your hand tingled as his calloused fingers clasped your smaller palm. But inside, you were gobsmacked. This was THE Tengen Uzui, one of the most prominent demon slayers in all the land. And here he was in your tiny bakery with his three gorgeous ass wives! 

“V-Very nice to meet you,” you damn near exhaled. Uzui seemed to realize the power he had on you from the simple touch because his kind smile turned into a flirty smirk. “This is a cute lil’ place you got here,” he said as he stuck his hand in his pocket that was once in yours. “We couldn’t help but come in to check out what you had, right, ladies?” 

“Mmm-hmm!” Suma answered with an eager nod. “We love all kinds of sweets, especially Maiko! She loves eating cakes and cookies late at night when she thinks no one is paying attention.” 

Maiko gaped at her sister-wife, flames nearly coming out of her reddened face. “Hey!” She barked. “That’s not true!” Uzui wagged a finger at her, tutting. “Lying is a sin, don’t you know, my Maiko?” He teasingly asked in that silky voice. You melted just like Maiko did, a slight whimper exciting her lips at the pet name. 

Hinatsuru suddenly appeared at the counter, that kind, genuine smile still on her lovely face. “You mustn’t mind us,” she giggled. “We have our different personalities, but we really do work great as a team. I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.” She turned to look at them, an adoring look in her eyes. 

It was a look that you were envious of. You’ve never interacted with a poly couple before, but you knew right then that it was something you’d never knock until you experienced it firsthand for yourself. Seeing all of the love in Hinatsuru’s eyes made you want to try it out for yourself to see if you, too, could experience that kind of feeling. 

But alas: these are just fantasies right now. Your partners are your business and baking right now. You’re so dedicated to your relationship and passion that you wake up at the ass crack of dawn to bake and you don’t leave until almost eleven at night sometimes because you’re busy preparing for events and business hours. It becomes tiring, yes, but it’s all worth it. You love your little bakery to death and you want to see it continue to blossom like you know it can. 

So, like any good baker and businesswoman, you gave Uzui and his wives a sample of your cakes: fruit tart with glazed fruit and lemon custard, vanilla coconut with coconut flakes, tiramisu, and chocolate mousse with dark chocolate powder dusting the top. You watched joyously as the four chomped down on your delicacies, each one wearing expressions of wonder and satisfaction. 

Suma made a very lewd-sounding moan as she chomped down on the chocolate cake, frosting all over her mouth. “Wow!” She sighed. “These are absolutely amazing! And you baked all of these yourself?” 

You flushed at the twinkle in her eyes. ”Yeah,” you bashfully replied. “I’m so glad you like them.” You turned to Uzui who swallowed his sample in one gulp and rubbed his toned stomach. “Oh, more than like, Ms. V,” he said. “We love these little cakes. And this little place of yours is so cute and…flashy.” He looked around the quaint and small bakery, smiling fondly. “It’s adorable! How long have you had it for?” 

He seemed so interested in this that you almost didn't know what to say. It had been forever since someone actually seemed like they wanted to know all about you without having ulterior motives aka wanting to sleep with you. Another reason why you barely dated. You nervously laughed, taken aback by his genuine interest. “About two years now since I got my license, but I’ve been baking literally my entire life.” 

Uzui whistled, looking like he approved of this information. “That takes so much skill!” He praised, leaning against the counter with one huge arm slung across it. “So you’re a businesswoman, a skilled baker, and beautiful? I’m sure you’ve got the fellas linin’ up outside your door.” 

The smile that crossed his lips was flirtatious and playful. It would turn you off if it came from some other guy you barely know, but there was something about him that made you not mind. And it had nothing to do with his status. Uzui came off to you like he was a big flirt, yes, but also very laid back and easy-going. It relaxed you even when you barely knew anything about him. He had a very blasé attitude to him that didn’t match his flash jewelry and painted fingernails that you were absolutely attracted to, picturing them somewhere on your body. You understood then why his wives were so fond of him. 

“You mustn’t embarrass her, Tengen-sama!” Hina critically said, grabbing Uzui’s arm. “Pardon me for saying so, but you are very beautiful, Ms. Y/N.” A pink blush spread across her cheeks, making her look even more gorgeous. You were breathless, unable to speak. A woman as gorgeous as her complimenting your looks was like an award in gold. “Isn’t she?!” Suma squealed. “I was staring at her the whole time wondering how she got her hair like that! Oh, and her skin is so pretty and glowy! Don’t you think so, Maiko?” 

All of you turned to Maiko who was busy nibbling on her tiramisu. She blushed at the eyes on her and tucked into herself. ”I-I guess,” she mumbled and continued eating. Uzui smirked at you, a playful twinkle in his eye. “She’s a shy girl,” he whispered. “Don’t let her turn ya off.” 

You didn’t tell either of them that you were turned on beyond belief. Fortunately, their desire to put in an order made you forget all about how much you were throbbing and how weak in the knees you felt. Uzui boastfully ordered a dozen cakes for his wives and his team, resulting in you filling two boxes with twelve of your cakes each. Uzui carried the two boxes and gave you a thankful smile as he and Hina exited your bakery. 

Suma practically skipped after them. “Thank you for the cakes!” She called as she waved from the door. Maiko stayed behind and passed you a crisp $100 bill. “From Tengen-sama,” she explained. “He said keep the change.” She paused, her face ablaze. “A-and you do have…really pretty hair,” she muttered. She didn’t stick around long enough to wait for you to thank her. 

You watched her go, somehow already missing their presence and hoping to see them again. They brought a light to your bakery the way no other customer has. But as you were processing the money, the door opened again, and in walked Uzui. “Oh, did you forget something?” you curiously ask, cocking your head to the side. 

He didn’t answer you as he strode up to you in five long strides, his boots thudding across the floor. Your heart leaped at his strange frown, wondering what could be wrong. Did he not like the cakes after all? He suddenly threw an elbow over the counter and leaned in like he was about to tell you a secret. “You’ve got a card or somethin’?” he whispered. Because I have a whole lot of sweet-toothed people who would love to come here for their fix.” He smirked at you, goofily so. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatic personality. Reaching down where the cash register was, you plucked a business card from beside it and handed it to Uzui. He gave you a smile and a wink as he pocketed your card. “It was nice meeting you, V,” he said. “We’ll be back.” 

And that they were back. The Hashira and his three wives came back again and again, buying sugary, caffeinated drinks and sweets. They came mostly on the weekends and sometimes during the week on random, but like clockwork, they were here. Uzui never came alone, always having his girls with him and spending all kinds of coin on whatever they wanted. 

As time passed, you found yourself looking forward to them showing up. You enjoyed their presence and they seemed to make your little bakery that much brighter and sweeter when they were here. It didn’t take long for your days to be filled with daydreams and nights to be haunted by fantasies of being with them as intimately as they are with each other—holding hands, touching lips, whispering sweet nothings… 

Especially with Uzui. How could you not? The man is a walking wet dream! Every time he slid you some game and flirted with you so openly in front of the girls and in private, you could feel yourself folding. But how are his wives so okay with him flirting with another woman in front of them? Is this just their relationship? Did you really want to understand? Maybe…join them? 

‘No, you horny bitch,’ you firmly think to yourself as you finish frosting the cookies. ‘No dating right now. Just business. Keep your head on straight.’

No matter how much Uzui’s flirting turns you on and piques your curiosity. Besides, how can he possibly be interested in you? He already has three women on his arm that would put any supermodel to shame. With his status and looks, he couldn’t possibly want you. 

You manage to distract yourself with some customers for a while until you get a particular call that you are not expecting. You answer it as normal, thinking it’s just another order for some catering or something. “V’s Sweets,” you brightly say into the phone. 

“Hi there, Ms. V,” a familiar, silky voice replies in your ear. Your brain damn near short circuits. “Your voice first thing in the morning is definitely better than these goddamn birds on my roof. How are you this morning?” 

It takes a minute for you to find your voice as his washes over you. You look around the bakery to make sure no one is watching you slowly combust behind the counter. “Uzui,” you exhale. “Um…m’fine!” You clear your throat, quickly recovering. “Good, thanks. How are you?” 

“Perfect now,” he answers without missing a beat. Goddamn him and his game! You can hear him smile on the other line and briefly imagine how fine he looks. “Listen, as much as I’d love to stay on the phone and hear you talk, I’ll admit that I’m in a time crunch with training. But I need your help with somethin’ big.” 

The gears in your head immediately start turning. What could it be, you wonder? A big event for the Demon Corps he wants catering for? “Oh…okay,” you hesitantly say. “What can I do for you?” 

“I want to put in an order for my girls,” he explains. You don’t know why, but hearing him call his wives “my girls” makes your heart flutter. 

‘Maybe because you want to be his girl too.’ 

You see, they’re off traveling to the mountains for a training session,” he continues. “They’ve been gone since last Monday and are returning Saturday night. I wanted to surprise them with a cake to welcome them home, but I need it ready by tomorrow. I know it’s last minute and I’ll pay as much as you want.” 

You instantly begin to schedule the cake order in your head’s calendar. Today is Friday which means you have at least the next 24 hours to fix this cake. Thank God you have a leftover batch of batter in the freezer you can use. “It’s no problem, Uzui,” you giggle. “That’s so sweet of you! Just tell me what flavor they like and other details for the cake. I promise I’ll have it ready by tomorrow.” 

Uzui sounds relieved. “You’re a fucking doll,” he sighs. “I’ll send you the money once we’re off the phone. Just work your flashy magic like I know you can, V. My girls are gonna be so excited when they get home!” You smile proudly, glad to know he trusts you so strongly when it comes to baking. 

You learn that he’d like a single-layered cake with buttercream frosting, candied flowers, and three flavors: vanilla for Hina, strawberry for Maiko, and chocolate for Suma. You write it all down and once you get that Cash App deposit, you get to work. 

For the rest of Friday into the night, you spend your hours mixing, baking, and sweating hard in the kitchen while your wonderful employees graciously take over for the customers. Even when they leave that night at 9 PM, you’re still there, flour on your face and food coloring on your apron. 

You are tired and in need of a hot shower, but once you finish the cake, you step back and admire your handiwork. It is a beauty—buttercream frosting swirls decorate the top of the cake along with candied flowers surrounding the words written in the middle: “Welcome Home, Girls!” You made sure to make the insides a swirl of vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry, coloring it just right. 

You almost want to call Uzui and send him a photo, but you decide to surprise him. So you carefully wrap the cake in plastic, place it in the fridge, and lock up your bakery before going home to sleep, walking on cloud nine. You think that nothing can go wrong with this order…Until the next night, that is. 

Everything that could ever go wrong goes wrong for you. For one, it’s because the cake can’t be delivered to Uzui until he gets home that night because he’s training a class. “I won’t be home till at least eight,” he explains that morning, sounding apologetic. “If someone can drop it off then, I’ll be home to get it personally and pay extra.” 

Number two, you’re extremely short-staffed. Not only is it Saturday and most people don’t work on weekends (except for you), but it’s also raining. The plans for the weather are downpours all weekend which means you definitely aren’t going to be able to find a deliverer. When you realize your dilemma, you sigh into your mug of much-needed coffee with two shots of espresso. “Shit,” you mutter, quiet enough to not alarm customers. Now it’s up to you to handle this. 

That night, while the handful of employees you have are cleaning your bakery before closing, you take the cake and put it in the trunk of your cute little Sedan. It is only drizzling right now, so you hurry into your car and punch Uzui’s address into Apple Maps. Once the route shows up, you take off but drive slowly due to the slick roads and the cake in the trunk. 

You’ve personally delivered orders before, especially to big events, such as parties and weddings. Delivering to someone’s house isn’t any different for you…except for the fact that this delivery is for a man that you’re severely feeling. 

Uzui’s place is about twenty minutes outside the city where the Demon Corps compound is located. His little home, purchased for his wives, is ten minutes away from the compound down a dirt road. You manage to make it there before the rain starts coming down like a waterfall in the Amazon rainforest. 

Raindrops pound against your car like tiny mallets as you race out of your car to toss open the trunk and get the cake. Even in your raincoat, you feel like you’re soaked to the bone. The dirt road has become wet and mushy like quicksand, making it hard to move in your boots. “God,” you groan, gripping the cake tight as you quickly move through the thick sheet of rain. 

You manage to make it to Uzui’s front door and rapidly knock with one hand. “Yes?” you hear him call, stern and unsure. Fuck, you forgot to call him first! “It’s V!” you shout through the door. “From the bakery? I’ve got your cake order here!” 

There’s a beat of silence before you hear the lock on the door click. The door opens, revealing a cozy home and a very wet, very shirtless man towering over you. Uzui stands barefoot in some sweats that are dangerously low on his narrow hips, giving you a peek of his well-defined V-line slick with water. His hair is stringy and wet and a towel is wrapped around his neck which means he must gotten out of the shower. You nearly drop the cake at the sight of him. 

“Hey,” he sighs. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, V. I tried to call, but reception is so bad ‘cause of the rain.” 

Your eyes tick up to look at his guilty expression instead of his body and sweatpants where you were definitely not hoping to see a dick print. “Oh…why?” you carefully ask. “Did you not want the cake anymore?” 

Uzui bursts into laughter. “Hell no, are you kiddin’? Of course, I want this beauty!” He smiles adoringly at the cake in your hands. “But the girls told me that they won’t be home until tomorrow because of the storm. That’s why they aren’t here. It’s just me.” 

It’s just me. “Oh,” you reply. “Well, that’s okay! I can still just drop it off and it’ll be good by tomorrow.” You hold the cake out for him to take. He does so, his big, calloused hands brushing yours. You clear your throat, awkward and ignoring the spark you feel when you touch. You snatch your hands away and put them in your pocket. “W-Well, I should probably—“ 

“You’re leaving?” he asks, sounding shocked. “In this weather? Wouldn’t you wanna wait this out for a while? I feel bad enough that you even came all this way here just to drop it off.” That’s an idea. A very bad idea. “No, no, it’s fine! It’s my job anyways, so—“ 

“Job or not, it’s still very generous of you,” Uzui interrupts you. “Can I fix you somethin’ before you go? Did you eat?” It’s just me. His words come back to you, haunting. Being in a room alone with a man you’re very attracted to and so happens to be married is a recipe for fucking disaster. “Uh…no, I’m really not hungry.” 

Grrrrooooowl. Your stomach rumbles, giving you away. All you had for lunch was coffee and a piece of apple strudel. Uzui smirks knowingly at you while you think about killing yourself. “Uh-uh,” he chuckles. “C’mon, I just fixed some rice and grilled chicken if you want some. The rain doesn’t stop till nine, so you can head out then. Cute car, by the way.” 

“Well…” You turn to look at your Sedan, contemplating your decision. What if this is a trap? What if you walk in there and never come back out? What if he’s really a cult leader, his wives are his members, and he’s trying to indoctrinate you or something? 

And what if maybe he truly is just being nice? Finally, you sigh and pat the pocket of your jeans to make sure your phone, keys, and pepper spray are, in fact, there. “Alright, but only until the rain stops,” you say, softly yet firmly. Uzui nods and opens the door wider for you. “Make yourself at home and I’ll getcha a plate. Lemme take your coat.” 

He stands behind you as he helps you out of your raincoat, making your heart pound ten times faster. He’s so big. He practically hits the ceiling above with how tall he is. You know he’d just about cover your body if he was on top of you. Once your coat is off, he hangs it up near the door and coaxes you to sit and decompress. 

While he takes the cake to the small yet homely kitchen and begins posting around in it, you take a seat on the love sofa that you know he and his girls have cuddled and fucked many times on. You left your boots by the door to dry so you stretch out your toes and shiver at the warmth curling throughout the house. Uzui’s home is so cozy with its splash of color, small rooms, wooden furnishings, and framed photos. 

Many, many framed photos. You stare at one next to you of Uzui in a suit in front of a backdrop of cherry blossoms. Hina, Suma, and Maiko stand in front of him, shoulder to shoulder, each holding a bouquet of flowers in gorgeous white dresses. “That’s from our wedding day with Suma,” he suddenly explains.

You startle, finding him standing above you with two steaming plates of white rice, grilled chicken with parsley, and a side of steamed vegetables. “That was taken three years ago,” he says, sitting down beside you. “We’ve been together for a long while now, all of us.” You smile despite yourself as he passes you your plate. “That’s a beautiful thing, to be with someone for so long and stand the test of time. Especially three other people.” 

He nods, agreeing with you. “We’ve had our ups and downs, but I wouldn’t give ‘em up for anything. They’re my everything.” The hint of an adoring smile on his face makes something tighten inside of you. Jealousy? Disappointment that you haven’t found that yet? All yes. 

For a while, you eat in silence that is only filled by the sound of the rain pitter-pattering outside. When you feel that some time has passed, you speak. “I envy you,” you sigh as you finish chewing on your piece of chicken. The explosion of herbs and spices nearly makes you moan in delight. And he can cook too?! “The dating pool is in Hell, so I haven’t done much of it.” 

“Oh, I believe it,” Uzui chuckles. “To be a woman as independent and beautiful as you…some men are intimidated by that. Believe it or not, no one wanted to court my wives because of their fighting skills and independence. It turns a lot of guys off.” He makes a disapproving face at the idea that makes you laugh. 

“Well, all it takes is that right guy to make any independent woman his,” you blurt. Fuck. Now that the words are out there and he’s looking at you so cluelessly, you have to explain. “Y’know,” you say, slowly chewing on your rice. “Like she’ll submit to you because you treat her so well. You make her feel safe.” 

Uzui nods in understanding, his plate completely clean. “Ah…is that what you look for in a partner?” You nearly get a piece of steamed broccoli stuck in your throat by the sudden pivot of a conversation topic. “Um…w-well, yeah, I guess, if I dated.” 

Uzui raised a confused eyebrow. “You don’t date?” Slowly, you shake your head. “I haven’t had much of a good swim in the dating pool, so I’ve just been focusing on my business. It gets lonely, yes, but I’m just not up for the bullshit and games.” You shovel more food into your mouth to silence yourself, realizing how easy it is to open up to Uzui. 

The Hashira continues to stare at you, his eye almost like a laser beam burning into you. You’re so focused on your food and the rain that you nearly miss his next words: “Well, I know for a fact that me and my girls wouldn’t dare bullshit or play games with you…if you let us show you.” 

You place your fork down on the plate, your appetite suddenly gone. Everything sounds louder now: the rain, your labored breathing, the blood pumping in your ears. You turn to Uzui and find him staring at you, his one eye blazing with intensity. “Why are you telling me this?” You ask above a whisper. 

Uzui lowers his plate to the table and does the same to yours. He doesn’t touch you, but his gaze on you makes you feel as if he’s touching every single part of you. “I was tryin’ hard to keep this to myself, but now that you’re here and we’re finally alone…I can finally tell you how I really feel.” 

In that moment, something in you ignites and you stand from the couch like something lit your ass on fire. “A-Actually, I need to go,” you stammer as you head to the door. “I need to feed my, um…cat.” Even though you don’t have a cat. 

But as you attempt to race to get your coat and boots, Uzui stops you by simply saying your name. “V,” he says, his voice almost pleading. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to make you feel uncomfortable.” 

Slowly, you turn your body to him, but you don’t look at him. You keep your eyes locked on the floor. “This feels like a trap,” you admit with an awkward laugh. 

“It’s not,” he protests, sounding hurt by the assumption. “I promise you, V, it isn’t. I had wanted to invite you over when the girls finally came home to tell you all of this, but with you being here…shit, I just couldn’t resist not sayin’ nothin’ to you after so long.” When you finally do look at him, his face is filled with so much longing that it nearly makes your knees buckle. 

“I need to act on my advances somehow,” he continues. “Did you notice any of ‘em? Ever?” You put your hands in your pockets, unsure of what to do. The room suddenly feels too small for your size. “Um…yes, but I’ll admit that I ignored them because of work. I needed to focus on my bakery.” 

“I don’t blame you for that,” he replies. “And I don’t blame you for bein’ wary of this, V, but you don’t have to be that way with me. My feelings for you are real.” The soft lamplight illuminates his handsome face. “My attraction for you is real.” 

You grip your keys in your back pocket. This is getting too hot and too personal. It’s too much. You should turn and leave to avoid falling even deeper into this dangerous situation. But instead, you stand there and face your fears. “I…I feel the same,” you softly confess, so soft that the rain nearly swallows up your voice. 

But Uzui hears you nonetheless. His body relaxes, the tension in his muscles melting away. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he wonders and you look at him like he’s deadass serious. “Tengen, you’re married,” you scoff. “You have three women that you’re committed to!” 

He nods, biting his lip. “Okay, yeah. That was a stupid question.” 

“So what about your girls?” you demand. “Is this going to ruin your marriage?” Immediately, he shakes his head. “Not at all. I was waiting till they returned so they could tell this to you in person, but they’re just as attracted to you as I am. They’ve wanted you to join our little family since we met.” 

Your eyes widen as your blood pressure rises. “Family?!” you parrot. “Tengen, I can’t marry you!” 

Uzui blinks in confusion and then realization like flickering lightbulb appears in his eyes. “No, no, no!” he protests with a laugh. “You’ve got it wrong, darling. I don’t mean join our marriage. I mean join our relationship—that is, you’d be dating all four of us…if that’s somethin’ you’d want to do.” 

You bite your lip, contemplating this. Yes, you’ve thought about being with them. Many of your nights have been filled with hot dreams of you between them, your bedroom filled with moans from all of you. But it’s different from actually doing it. “I’m attracted to you all too,” you admit, “but I’ve never been in a poly relationship before. I’ve never even been with more than one partner in the bedroom.” 

Uzui’s gaze is soft and sweet, making your stomach flutter with butterflies. “Nothin’ wrong with that,” he says, taking a step closer. You allow it, not moving even as he gets closer to you. “It’s your decision, V, but I can promise you that if you say yes, not a day would go by where we wouldn’t show you how right you were in picking us to be your partners.” 

When he is finally near you and towering over you, he takes your hands in his. “For however long you want us.” You stare up into his eye, falling deeper and deeper into whatever “trap” he has set for you. “Say that I did say yes,” you say, breathless from the magic he is working on you. “What would happen if I was your fourth girl?” 

His brows raise in surprise and a smirk stretches across his lips. “Oh,” he replies. “You want a teaser?” You jerkingly nod, afraid to speak. He turns his hands over so they are underneath yours and rubs his thumbs along your knuckles. You inhale and unfortunately catch a whiff of the fruity soap and cologne on his skin. 

“Well, for one,” he starts in his silky, dreamy voice, “I’d treat you the same way I treat my wives: with love, adoration, and respect…in and out of the bedroom, if that’s what you’re gettin’ at.” His eye pierces into yours, filled  with heat and a sinful promise that makes you want to fall into his big arms that are the size of your entire body. “And I make sure all of my girls are taken care of.” 

Something in the way he says that also tells you that ain’t just words—they’re a fucking promise. Finally, temptation gets the best of you and you toss yourself at him to kiss him. He makes a noise of surprise as you leap into his body, but once your body and lips melt into his, he moans in pleasure and satisfaction at finally having you here. Against him. Wrapped in his arms. 

His lips are soft and taste faintly of wine. They pull you in deeper and deeper, causing you to push your plump body against his. Uzui welcomes you, his toned arms hugging you tight and inviting you to indulge in his biceps and pecs. The more you touch, the wetter you get. You can feel your pussy clenching in your panties, excited by the many sights, scents, and sensations you’re experiencing. 

Finally, you pull away and you’re both panting, only an inch away from each other’s lips. “I take it you like that idea?” he murmurs against your lips. Slowly, you nod, speechless. “So you wanna give this a shot? Remember, baby, you call the shots here.” 

He gently strokes your back, not cringing at all at your rolls and love handles. It makes you feel especially sexy. You bite your lip, thoughtfully stroking his chest. “I’m thinking about it, but I think I need more…” One of your hands slides down to play idly with the tie of his sweats. “Persuasion,” you sigh. 

A big, happy smile crosses Uzui’s lips and he plants another passionate kiss on your lips. “I can do that, no problem.” Another hot kissing session begins that sweeps you off your feet and makes your pussy gush. The more you push against Uzui, he pushes back just as much, his hands roaming over your back, legs, and plump ass in your jeans. 

He wedges one of his muscular thighs in between your soft, plushy ones and you gasp at the hard sensation you feel pushing against his sweats. “Can you feel me?” he asks, peppering your neck in kisses. “That’s what you do to me. What you’ve been doin’ to me since I met you.” 

Your mouth stays agape, processing what you’re feeling. The pleasure is immense. His bulge slides against the heat between your thighs, right up against your fabric-covered pussy. “Of course, you’d need a bit of training with me though,” he adds, deciding to kiss your shoulder now. 

You tilt your head back, enjoying his ministrations. “You mean, like, fighting?” you ask. “Like your wives do?” He pulls away and a sheepish smile is on his lips. “Well, yes, but I meant a “different” type of training,” he chuckles. “I’m, uh…kinda big.” 

You stare at him blankly, confused. Instead of clarifying, he takes your hand and places your hand on his abs. “Go ahead; touch me, baby.” His eye twinkles with mirth and lust that excites you. Your hand cascades down his washboard abs to his V-line until you meet his very big, very hard, very thick bulge. Kinda? That thing is like a third arm! 

At your gobsmacked expression, he frowns. “Is this making you uncomfortable?” he worriedly asks. You flush, biting your lip to curb some of the horiness that has taken hold of you so you can’t even think straight. “Uh…uncomfortable ain’t the word I’d use.” 

Interest crosses Uzui’s handsome face and he yanks you closer to him. “Oh, yeah?” he teases. “I’m gettin’ to you, hm? Lemme see then.” His hands move off of you to move down to his sweats, his fingers gliding against the ties holding them up. “You show me yours, I’ll show you mine.” 

You don’t need to be told twice. Quickly, you take off your sweater, jeans, and bra along with your socks while Uzui takes his sweats and briefs off it one sweep. Suddenly, you both stand naked in his living room, your eyes drinking each other in. Uzui hungrily stares at your plump, soft, curvaceous body in the lamplight. 

Even though you’re clearly bigger than his wives, he still looks at you like you’re a dessert plate. If it wasn’t for how damn good he looked, you’d be embarrassed, but you’re too busy staring at his beautiful body, pierced nipples, and that big cock hanging between his three-trunk thighs. “Oh, wow,” you gasp. “Y-You’re really….big.” 

Uzui smiles, flashing you his pearly whites. “I’m on the thicker side too,” he says pridefully. “I thought it’d scare my wives, but they love it, even without penetration.” 

You can definitely see why. Your mouth salivates and your pussy aches for him. He steps to you, his chest and nipple rings now eye level with you. 

“So I’d train you to take my big dick,” he purrs. “Is that somethin’ you’re interested in tonight? Maybe a trial run?” 

A night of orgasms with the Hashira himself? How could you say no? “Yes,” you whisper. “But can I choose the positions?” He smiles, overjoyed with your agreement and gently kisses your lips. “Whatever you want, baby. But let’s take this to the bed.” 

As soon as Uzui leads you through the house to the last room—his and his wives’ bedroom—, he and you immediately hit the king-size bed big enough for six people and begin your highly anticipated “trial run”. After a serious of tongue kisses, touches, and licks, you’re suddenly in the most compromising position you’ve been in in a long time. 

You sit against the pillows with your legs spread and your panties discarded on the floor after Uzui pulled them down your thighs with his teeth. His thick fingers rub your cunt while your hand is wrapped around his dick coated in spit and flavored lube from his nightstand. 

Uzui stares at you adoringly while you jerk him off, pushing his hips farther into your hand. “That’s it, mama,” he coos. “Stroke that dick like a good girl. Get a feel of it.” 

You whimper at his praise-fille words, your pleasure only fueled by his thick fingers rubbing your clit in small, slow circles and the wet, lewd sounds of your hand sliding along his slick cock. You get to know each other and your bodies, focusing on what you respond well to and what you may not. So far, your body is responding extremely nicely to everything Uzui does. Your nipples are hard, your heart is pounding, and your pussy is gushing on his fingers as he continues to rub you. 

“Isn’t it so nice?” he asks, his voice husky and soft from your little hand stroking his big, thick dick. “Havin’ a big cock in your hand while you get that pussy rubbed?” He looks down at his slick fingers, hardening at the sight of your glistening holds. “She’s so wet for me. It’s been a while since someone has treated her well, hasn’t it?” 

He retracts his fingers and holds them to your mouth where you part your lips and begin to suck on them. He moans as he feels your soft lips wrap around his thick digits before he slides them out and places them back on your cunt. His cock grows hard, throbbing in your hand. “U-Uzi,” you moan. “I want you in my mouth.”

He smirks down at you, ever the tease. With one of his other big hands, he wraps it around your throat and squeezes. “What’s the magic word?” He presses a bit harder against your clit, making you gasp. “Please,” you exhale, your eyes fluttering at the pleasure. Uzui places a soft smack on your cunt, making you jump. “Louder,” he demands. 

“Please!” You whine, the word escaping you. He presses an awarding kiss against your soft lips as his hand replaces yours wrapped around his cock. “Good girl. Now open up.” Once again, you part your lips and he slowly slides his shaft into your mouth, allowing you time to get used to him. 

He is as big and as thick as he looks with a throbbing vein trailing from his tip dribbling in pre-cum to his heavy balls that lightly tap your chin as he sinks in deeper, deeper, deeper. 

You taste the salty pre on your tongue as his head slides across it, the taste tantalizing your tastebuds. He is so warm and thick, stretching out your mouth with every inch. 

He lets you settle into it for a few minutes before he begins to rock his hips and fuck your mouth. Your eyes sting with tears and your jaw aches from it being open slack, but you induce it. The pleasure of pleasing Uzui and having his big cock in your throat is too good to pass up. Uzui groans, his hand tangled in your hair. “Yes,” he hisses. “That’s it, take me deeper. Fuckin’ hell, V, you’re so good at this.” 

Hearing his husky, silky voice sound so thick with pleasure makes you oh-so wet. You begin to gag on his cock as you move your head up and down, bobbing along his shaft. You lick along him like he’s a lollipop, causing spit to drip down your lips and his balls. You’ve never felt so sloppy and slutty, but you enjoy it immensely. Is this how his wives every time they blow him? 

Suddenly, Uzui pulls himself out of your heavenly mouth and lays on his back. Before you can ask what he’s doing, his hands wrap around your waist and pull you on top of him towards his face. “Wait, wait,” you gasp. “What are you doing?” You look back at him, perturbed. He just gives you a dashing smile and lays a smack on your ass. “Putting this gorgeous ass on my face where it belongs. Don’t worry, I can handle you, mama. You just worry about gaggin’ on my cock, okay?” 

Seeing the gentleness and lust for you in his twinkling eye buries all of your doubts about sitting on his face. “Yes, Daddy,” you blurt, not even realizing what you said until you say it. You flush with embarrassment, but Uzui’s cock stirs like you just said the magic word. “Fuck, I can’t wait to have you,” he exhales, shuddering at your obedient reply. 

He coaxes you to park your pussy on his face which you do, bracing your hands on his thighs just as his tongue begins to caress every part of your slippery, soft, wet cunt. Your whimpers and moans are muffled as you begin to throat his cock once more, bobbing up and down, your tongue swirling around the heat while you stroke the rest of which you can’t swallow. 

Uzui is so unbelievably good at eating pussy, but you wouldn’t think he wasn’t. He uses his fingers where his tongue isn’t, rubbing your clit while his tongue explores your folds, his moans causing vibrations to travel up to your hardening, tingling nipples. You begin to suck on him eagerly, sinking your throat deeper onto his shaft. 

He groans underneath you, pulsing his hips up to fuck your face. “So greedy. I’m scared you won’t wanna share me once I get my girls in here.” Smack! He gives your ass another smack that makes your pussy quiver. “Ya think you could be a good girl and share my cock, baby girl?” 

You pick your head up from his cock and take a breath of fresh air. “Y-Yes,” you softly whine. His fingers slowly sink into your pussy, making your moans grow louder. “Do you mean that?” he asks, his voice dipping below an octave. You whimper as he curls his digits up, making you rock your hips back in pleasure. 

That knot in your stomach tightens until it finally snaps and you open your mouth to gasp as your orgasm approaches. “Oh, my God, Uzui…I’m gonna…oh, shit, I’m cumming!” Your orgasm ripples through you as Uzui begins to gently suck on your clit while he finger-fucks you, taking you through your nut. 

It’s a powerful, intense orgasm that makes your eyes flutter closed and your body feel like it’s soaring. It’s an orgasm intensified by the fact that it’s a sexy ass man causing it. That only makes it better. When it finally fades, you shudder with delight and a dopey smile appears on your lips. 

Uzui hums in disapproval as if you’ve proven that you’re lying, sliding his fingers out of you. “Guess it can’t be helped, but we’ve still got some training to do.” 

He plants a kiss on your asscheek and on your pussy. “Now be a good girl and take this dick the way you need to,” he purrs, giving you the go to use his dick as a personal dildo for your enjoyment. After all, you still need to undergo the rest of your trial run. 

You choose cowgirl first because it allows you to take control over the tempo and pressure. Uzui allows it, personally loving how you look bouncing on his cock. He lays back against a pillow with his arms comfortably behind his head as he ogles at the way your ass jiggles and juicy tits bounce every time you sink down onto his cock. 

“God, Uzui, yes!” You shout. “Yes, yes, keep going! Don’t fucking stop!” You’re losing your mind on it, practically seeing stars as you rock your hips, your hands gripping his pecs and your knees on the bed.

Uzui smirks up at you, loving this movie. “I’m not even doin’ anything, baby,” he chuckles. “That’s all you. Just look at this ass bouncin’ on my cock.” He gives your ass a sharp smack, loving the way you loudly whine as he does it. “Such a little cock slut you’ve become.” He tuts, licking his fingers before rubbing your clit. “You’re worse than my wives.” 

Just as quickly as it happened, he takes his fingers away and sucks on them. “But if you insist on me doin’ something to you…” He suddenly sits up and grabs you before thrusting his hips up to meet yours, plunging his cock deeper inside of you. Your mouth falls slack and you grip his shoulders, sinking your nails into his skin. 

“How’s this, hm?” He grunts. “Is this enough for my girl, huh?” You can’t even begin to voice the amount of pleasure you feel as he fucks you stupid, bouncing you in his lap. “Fuck, Daddy, yes!” You moan. “Oh, my God, fuck!” 

The pleasure only reaches new heights for you both as he suddenly lays you down onto the bed, hikes you legs up over his shoulders, and begins to fuck you missionary style. He mounts you, rides you, plants that big body on top of you as he puts you into his mattress. You wrap your arms and legs around him like a koala bear, enjoying the ride he takes you on. 

He smiles down at you, enjoying it too. “Such a flashy expression you’ve got there, baby,” he huffs. “Is this dick that good, hm? You enjoyin’ this trial run so far?” You weakly nod, too busy moaning to form coherent sentences. “Aw, c’mon, mama,” he coos, reaching down to squeeze your throat. “Give Daddy some words.” 

You don’t know what feels better: his big hand replacing a necklace around your throat or his cock buried inside of you. Desperation to keep this feeling fills you, giving you that kick to speak. “Uzui,” you moan. “Keep going. Fuck me please!” 

Uzui, with his face flushed and his hair falling in his face, smiles down at you the way a wolf would his prey. “Oh, sweetie, you haven’t been fucked yet.” 

After pressing a kiss to your bare foot, he bends your knees so he can press his pelvis against yours, your ass cushioning his thighs, and begins to piston his hips against yours. With every thrust and brush of his pelvis against your needy, throbbing clit, you grow wetter. So wet that it drips down your asscrack onto the sheets that you’re currently gripping for dear life. 

Fortunately for the both of you, your wetness increases the lubrication, making it easier to Uzui pound your pussy into the bed that rocks and creaks below you. Your moans and swears mingle with one another, creating a chorus of pleasure that echoes throughout the empty house. 

It doesn’t take long for that pleasure to build and spill over into your second orgasm of the night. “Cumming!” You sob. “I’m cumming!” Uzui talks you through it with that soft, sexy voice of his, still drilling your shit as if his life depends on it. “Cum for me, baby. Give me another, c’mon.” 

He presses himself against you, his nose buried in your hair, and gives you a few more determined, deep strokes that send you over the edge. With a loud sob-like moan, you cum again, gushing all over the thick cock buried inside of your cunt. 

Uzui groans as he feels your walls clench around him, threatening to make him cum too…but not yet. He still needs to show you more. When he finally feels you go slack underneath him, he gently unwinds your arms and legs from him. “That’s better,” he sighs with a smile. “Now it’s time to get my nut too.” 

Slowly, he pulls out and turns you over without warning. With a gasp of surprise, you feel him grab your hips and lift your ass up before sliding himself back home inside of you. Taking control over you and your body, he begins to slam himself into you, burying his cock deeper and deeper into the wet, quivering folds of your pussy. 

“That better?” He bellows from behind you. “You like gettin’ fucked like this?” You whine and moan in response, your face buried in the mattress. He fucks you like you’re his own personal fleshlight, using you for his own pleasure while also giving you yours too. Your pussy, still sensitive from your last two orgasms, squelches and throbs around him, pulling the cum out of him. 

Uzui leans down to whisper in your ear, his big body covering yours once more. “And just think: you can get this every day. Every night. Any time you want.” He reaches between your thighs to rub your clit, stimulating you. “You can get it fast and rough or slow and gentle. You can have this whenever you want it, baby. All you have to do is say yes.” 

You want to say yes. You’ve never wanted anything more. Your brain is fogged by pleasure and your third orgasm quickly approaching. You can’t believe that you can have endless nights of endless orgasms and hot sex with not only him but his three gorgeous wives too. Who wouldn’t say yes to that? 

“Oh, fuck!” You sob into the bed, fisting the sheets. “Too much! I can’t—“ 

“Uh-uh,” he interrupts you in a voice so demanding and stern that it silences you. “Don’t tell me you can’t take it. You can, baby. You can do whatever you set your mind to.” 

He presses your ass down onto the bed and proceeds to fuck you pronebone style, drawing his hips down against your soft, plump ass. 

“So you’d better set it on this cock,” he whispers. “If you wanna be mine, you have to.” 

You weakly turn your head to the side to look at him, finding his face already within reach. He plants a hot, wet kiss on your lips, sharing his breath with yours. “Don’t you wanna be my girl, mama?” He whispers against your mouth. “Don’t you wanna be mine?” 

Yes. Everything in your mind and body is screaming the word: Yes, yes, yes. Finally, you swallow your pride and let your need and the hot sex talk for you. “Uzui!” You sob. “Fuck, fuck, fuck yes!” 

You want to be his and you want him to be yours. His wives, too. You want everything they could ever offer you. You want it all. 

You can hear the smile in Uzui’s voice as he speaks, still pounding your cunt into the bed and bringing you to the brink of no return. “Give me another one, baby. Fuckin’ give it to me now. I’m gonna cum too!” 

There is no more talking as your orgasms take over, the pleasure rising and expanding until it finally explodes. With a gasp, you orgasm for the third time that night, clenching around Uzui’s magical, beautiful cock. The Hashira cums with you, letting out a loud moan as he fills you to the brim with his cum. 

You weakly whimper at the feeling of his warm seed gushing out and filling you up. There is so much! So much that it drips out of you and dribbles down your asscrack. He keeps himself buried inside of you, gripping your body to him as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear from his bed if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. 

You let him, loving how big and strong he is. He feels like a weighted sweatshirt on top of you, warm and cozy yet hard and slick with sweat. You inhale, breathing in his scent, falling more in love with it the more you breathe him in. He’s perfect. 

Finally, after what seems like a lifetime, Uzui gently pries himself away from your body. But he doesn’t roll off of you. For a moment, he takes a minute to stare down at your body, looking at you like you’re a Goddess who has blessed his bedroom. 

The way he gazes down at you makes you flush with embarrassment and shyness despite the act you just did together. ‘You’re perfect too,’ he says without opening his mouth. 

After sharing a kiss, he finally pulls out of you. “You okay?” He softly asks. Weakly, you nod, unable to lift your head up due to exhaustion. “Here, let me fetch ya a towel.” 

You feel the bed move as he gets up and hurries to the bathroom. When he returns, he has a towel and a bottle of massage oil. He begins to wipe you down with the towel, gently wiping the cum off of your thighs and ass. You let him, your limbs feeling like jelly. 

“All clean,” he finally announces. “Now hold still for me. You might be a little sore, but it ain’t nothin’ I can’t fix.” You feel him straddle you, his powerful thighs on either side of your hips. He squirts some of the massage oil into his palms and vigorously rubs them together before massaging the slick oil into your back, shoulders, ass, thighs, and calves. 

You softly hum at the feeling of his hands massaging your sore muscles, his fingers kneading the aches, kinks, and tight knots. He ebbs away the soreness from the sex, causing you to relax into the mattress. 

After doing your back, he moves off of you and helps you flip over onto your back. He pecks you on the lips before massaging your neck, breasts, stomach, inner thighs, and legs. The scent of lavender and vanilla hangs in the air from the oil, sending you on a trip to a field of it. 

He is so careful with your legs, lifting each one with a gentleness that makes your heart melt. His fingers knead your inner thighs and calves, caressing down to your ankles and toes. You can’t help but feel that it is more intimate that the sex. “You sure know how to treat a girl,” you sigh. 

He chuckles as his hands stroke up and down your ankle. “I try. You did so well for me that you deserve a reward.” You flush at the praise and close your eyes, completely and utterly ready to toss in the towel and be his. 

Oh. That’s right. You already did say yes…but that was when he was fucking you stupid. It was during sex. You don’t know his perspective on talking shit during sex, but does he consider your answer truthful or valid? Can he tell that you meant it? 

Because you did. You want to be his and his wives’ so badly. Things would have to go slow for a while so you can get used to dating four people at the same time, but you also know that they would be patient and happy to give you all the time you need. 

Something in you tells you that they would prove to be the best partners you’ve ever had. 

Biting your lip, you open your eyes to stare at the beautiful man still massaging your leg. “Uzui?” You whisper. Immediately, he pauses and questionably looks at you. “I meant what I said earlier…about wanting to be yours.” 

Realization lights up in his eye and he gently lowers your leg on the bed. “So you mean…you want us?” He expectantly asks. “My wives and me? You actually mean it?” 

Slowly, you sit up onto your elbows and place a hand on his. A slow nod and a smile are all Uzui needs for his answers. He scoops you up into his lap and hugs you close, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips that makes you swoon. “Thank you, V,” he whispers, joy evident in his tone. “I promise you that we’ll make you so, so happy. We can take it as slow as you need us to and we can—“ 

His words are cut off by his cell phone ringing in the living room. “Damn,” he sighs. “Hang on a sec.” 

He gently pushes you off of him and rises from the bed to head to the living room, leaving you alone to your thoughts for a moment. You laugh to yourself, in disbelief that you’re actually doing this. But you also find that you’re not regretful. If anything, you’re excited. You’re intrigued. You’re attracted to the idea of being with these four magnetic, attractive individuals and you want to get to know them even better. 

Uzui finally returns after a couple of minutes, still naked and looking good enough to lick. He wears a secretive smile on his face as he comes to sit on the bed again. “What?” You ask, raising a brow. 

“Well, that was Hinatsuru callin’ me,” he explains. “She said she and the girls will be home early…tonight, actually.” You gape at him, making him laugh. “They decided they wanted to test the storm and realized it was easy to travel in. Plus, they missed me too much. They’ll be home in about two hours.” 

Your heart skips a beat as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you down to lie with him on the bed. “So now we have two things to celebrate tonight,” he whispers. “And we can do it properly. Does that sound good to you, darling?” 

You smile into his chest, your body melting into his. You’ve never thought anything sounded better. 

THE END. 

[nattheother]

over the counter and back ✧ jww

tags fluff, meet cute, izakaya!au / midnight diner!au, slight misunderstanding, few swear words, self indulgence (surprising), love me a sopping wet pathetic yn

wc 2.7k words

note that men’s nonno izakaya shoot with dk… yeah... *faints* the hirotaka allegations aint helping either [pic cr. jwwfile on twt]

note i was gonna put an alcohol on the tags but its an izakaya au, u know what ur getting into so :3

crossposted to AO3

—

It wasn’t the weekdays or the rush hour, it’s just the izakaya usually is not that packed. Only two couples on the tables and a woman tonight, who seemed to get off work quite late, sitting at the bar area, seemingly laid back on her phone over her unfinished beer. Old jazzy songs from your boss’ playlist softly filled the bar, warming up the mood.

Your head chef, well, your boss, Kouji, just bid you a farewell. The izakaya just opened about two hours ago this evening, but he had to clock early for his daughter in labour. She usually works part-time here alongside you until about a month ago, which is why you tried to fill her shift until she comes back. Not that you mind.

You wished him good luck before he tackled you into a light hug, resulting in a small “oof!” out of you.

Honestly, handling the diner on a slow day alone doesn’t really worry you. It’s always just the three or two of you. Kouji said the neighborhood was particularly safe, “also it’s a small bar afterall,” he adds.

As you came back from the kitchen after finishing the woman’s check, a new customer came in behind the bar island this time. Young man probably what describes him more. Looks about around his mid 20s, pretty thick rimmed glasses. You’re not sure if it’s his shoulder who’s wide or his button-ups were just oversized, but does he look lean. 

“Welcome! Anything for your order tonight?”

He sits on the barstool at the centre by himself. He adjusts his glasses as he glances around unsure, “yeah, um… just gyudon and draft beer, please,”

You walked around getting the tall glass to pour one from the beer machine. “Sorry, can I ask something?” he promptly starts.

”Yeah?”

”Where is Kouji-san?”

Looking up from the filled glass, you serve the beer on the counter, “Sensei? His daughter’s in labour tonight. I’m in charge for tonight,”

“Only you?” you smiled at his question and nodded, “‘Seems you know Sensei. You’re a regular?”

He took off his watch and chuckled, “Sort of? I do stop by pretty frequently but I’ve kinda never seen you,” he reasoned as he folded up his sleeves.

You laughed softly in the middle of wiping off the beer faucet, pointing to the back with your thumb, “I’m usually in the kitchen.” You put the rag into your apron, “So ring the bell or call up if you need anything.”

You felt the banter was enough as you turned your heels back to the kitchen because you had to make his gyudon, “Wait,” but his calling stopped you in your step. You turned around to him taking a sip of his beer.

“I haven’t gotten your name.”

“If it isn’t Wonwoo!”

Who?

Kouji’s whoop was muffled behind the kitchen curtain. You tried to calmly finish plating up the dish for a current customer so you can quickly move on to this acquaintance of Kouji. Putting his order is for later, so you swiftly deliver the tray full of bowls to the also full table at the back first.

You came back with another tray of empty dishes as you can finally see your next customer.

Oh, right… I forgot to ask his name.

He smiled at you as you confidently welcomed him, mirroring his smile.

In the middle of putting away the dirty dishes, Kouji came into the kitchen with a question, “Wonwoo said he knows you? You’ve never told me!”

You looked back at him in a slight surprise and a chuckle, “Not really, actually, we met around last week I think? You clocked off early.”

What you remembered from that day was after Wonwoo asked your name, customers piling up in a short time right after you served his food. That resulted in you spending most of your time in the kitchen and finished his check a little quickly because the other was also queuing behind him.

“Go take his order. A group just came in just now and I’m taking theirs,” Kouji ordered.

“What?? Why not you earlier, Sensei?” you whined.

After your half-playful complaint of not taking his order, you wipe off your hand dry and sighed on your way out.

“Another draft beer?”

You guessed as you walked up to him. He nodded, “And a mapo tofu, do you have that?” You took out your notes to write down his orders, “I’ll make sure and prepare that for you.

Anything else?”

Days after that, Wonwoo stopped by around eight to nine, assumingly whenever he had overtime. It’s always the same order. One (or more) glass of draft beer and any bowl dishes, that mapo tofu most of the time.

There was also the time where he came in at almost eleven. He usually never shows any signs of fatigue or weariness on his face but you can see the dim in his eyes. You tried to not approach him that much, spending more of your time checking up the kitchen before touching the baton to Kouji for the night.

You rang up his check right before you clock out. He looked a bit more refreshed after his meal, cheeks slightly flushed after a few refills of beer.

“Please walk safe home,” you gave back his card to the small tray alongside the bill.

Not expecting your non-customer service-way farewell, he stared at you for a few seconds before nodding his head, “you too.”

You swear in every language you can think of. Your heart squeezed. Wonwoo was starting to grow in your heart. It’s really nice to see him in the izakaya for a few days a week after that. You never sort of believed in any of those “at first sight” moments, if it works, good for them. While it did feel slightly heavy on your feet anytime you had to walk back to the kitchen instead of seeing him and talk to him, you had to put your mind in place. Focus. 

It could be because he’s one of your first regulars and, cough, is good looking, but you don’t know his background. Who are his friends and family and why does he always come in alone? You’re not even sure if it’s a crush or that you just found comfort with a customer. Either way, workplace is still a workplace and he is your client. This izakaya is your only rendezvous to him.

That is when Wonwoo ordered two glasses of beer. You tried your best not to halt when you stepped out of the kitchen and saw a young woman around his age beside him. You didn’t, and served him his usual bowl of rice. Gyudon this time, and mapo tofu for her.

You need to stop looking like a stalker, hiding behind the kitchen curtain. This is the second time he had brought her to this izakaya. You need to stop before someone accuses you as a total creep as you compare their interaction a few days ago with today. Almost the same. From outside it looked like they were having a quite serious and private discussion, noting down stuff on paper and their phone alternatively. As if someone’s life was actually on the line. You are also lucky Kouji will come later at night, because he might also accuse you as a total creepy stalker.

You try only focusing on attending customers. It’s almost the weekend and customers start piling up before you realize Wonwoo was already sitting alone. You try to not overthink why he didn’t take her home himself and let her go home by herself.

You walk up to the bar to check the beer dispenser. You can feel his eyes boring at you, slightly dim again like it was a couple weeks ago, and two empty glasses of beer.

“Need a refill?” you carefully ask, walking up to him.

“I’m good.” he slightly smiles before asking for his check.

You kept your sweet encouragement to yourself as you don’t want to force and assume anything towards him. He left the change and gave you a tip.

“Wonwoo?”

It was nearing autumn. Though the sun was already setting at five, the bar still opens at the same time. The rain pours hard, covering any sign of the sun setting with gloom. But nothing could’ve prepared you other than the six feet tall man crouching under the roof in front of the closed bar you’re working at, shading himself from the rain. You grip your umbrella tighter when he looks up to your call.

He calls your name in recognition as he stands up.

The rain poured harder above the roof of the izakaya when you hand Wonwoo the warm coffee on the bar. He’s in the middle of taking off his damp jacket when he looks up to you at the sight of the cup.

“On the house,”

“Thank you.”

You busy yourself behind the bar, checking and tidying stuff up under the bar as Wonwoo sips on his coffee. You peek glances over him. He doesn’t look as tired as the last time you saw him. But if your over-analysis and timeline matched, his reasoning behind crouching like a pathetic man in front of your workplace must have something to do with it.

“Is it okay if I ask you what’s wrong?”

Your sudden approach jolts him a little. He chuckles, “it’s fine,” you wait for his pause.

“I can say it’s family matters. Something came up and we had to figure it out somehow, a little stressful I might say,” you hum understanding.

“Did you not have work today? You usually come later. It’s not even six yet,”

He shakes his head, “No, I just finished super early. My seniors are having dinner, too, so,”

“Not going?”

“Not really my thing. Only works when I was new,”

He takes a sip of his coffee again. You space out for a moment not knowing what to respond. You were never the best at comforting someone. For as long as you’ve been friends with your best friends, you’ve always listened. Maybe give them some hugs and pats on the head, words of “I’m here” and “You’re not on your own” repeatedly said, affirming.

You felt sort of bad and truly embarrassed at how you acted behind him the past weeks, sort of suspecting his love life, getting (you admit) jealous at some random woman you don’t know and didn’t even try to know. Maybe what you thought a few weeks ago was right. Maybe you do have a huge cru–

“Yes, Wonwoo?” your ribbons of thoughts were snipped by Wonwoo calling your name.

“You’re usually bright, is something wrong?”

Confused by his question, you look around unsure. Guests usually come around an hour after opening, and you never wished someone to come in right now so bad through your whole career.

“M-maybe? I don’t know, sorry,”

Wonwoo was in the middle of wiping his glasses with the paw of his sleeves. He puts them back on.

“It’s usually me who’s quiet between us,” he adjusts them to the bridge of his nose, looking up at you from his seat, smiling.

Between us? He’s not making this any better. You scratch the back of your neck, not planning to come up with any reply or answer. You avert your gaze to the window, trying to avoid his eyes. Your wish of customers barging in is washed away by the rain—not slowing down any minute apparently.

“I just thought something came up and you had to like,” you chuckle at your assumption, “get off early or, run away or some sort,”

Wonwoo was still sipping his coffee. Not sensing his answer in any minute, you finish your prior thought with your remaining breath, “sort of heartbroken-looking.”

You organize the shot bottle on the under bar, again trying to distract yourself from the fact that he's now facing you, eyes boring. You didn’t budge and he stared at his coffee.

“I wanna get to know you, Wonwoo,” you finally look at him. Emphasizing on your tone, you don’t want him to feel like you’re just messing around.

“Can I?” you ponder at him, preparing yourself for the worst.

“I don’t know if it's possible. For all the time you came here, the past few weeks, I always get all... gung-ho when cooking, or preparing side dishes and bowls in the back. It’s like I want you to see me doing great like there’s nothing wrong in my mind. You know, "bright" like you said. It’s honestly stupid, fuck…” you breath out the last word.

“And then you came in super late that night, with that… heavy shoulders and countless refills of this damned beer, and then came in with that lady not once but twice, and this… serious tension between the two of you. You know, I just didn’t want to assume but it’s just… I don’t know, it was kinda confu–”

“With who now?”

You instantly pause, knowing full well he has probably catched on. So you sigh, “That… friend around your age. Pretty, slight tan, long hair,” you scratch your forehead in defeat. It’s like your pride just splurts out like a balloon being squished its air out.

You excuse yourself by collecting his empty cup on the top counter to refill it, but a hand halts your steps grabbing onto your arm.

“Don’t give me more, I don’t handle caffeine that well.”

“Just… let me put this back to the kitchen,”

“Later. Sit here.” he orders.

Your heart flinched at the slight octave drop of his already soft voice. Another sigh of loss, you put back the cup. Wonwoo slowly let go of your arm to let you walk around the bar counter.

It’s now a whole new view. Wonwoo is sitting right next to you and you can definitely smell his cologne. Even just one second of eye contact, you couldn’t handle it. How does one’s gaze be so soft and comforting? You dart your eyes and cover them with your hands with elbows on the table.

“Just… let's just finish this. I already feel ridiculous.”

All you can catch with your ears was his soft chuckle and fabric rustling, “you wanna get to know me right?”

You feel his fingers snake around your wrist, gently pulling your hands away from your face. Seeing his face up close does not help even one bit, you feel even more like shit of how messy and pathetic you must’ve looked.

“That… “friend”, is my future sister-in-law,” he starts,

Your eyeballs could probably see the back of your head as you whip your head away in another embarrassment, “Ugh, Wonwoo, enough of that,”

“Which is why we were so stressed we had to talk about it on our own. My brother’s marriage is on the line.”

You hear his tone indicating him smiling whilst explaining. To be frank, you kind of already gave up the moment his voice dropped an octave lower. All you can do now is just to sit next to Wonwoo with his thumb drawing circles on your palm. 

“It’s not stupid,” he softly assures, fingertips a little cold from sheltering the rain earlier. But it does feel so to you. Stupid crush at the ripe age of your 20s. Great. 

“So can I get to know you then?”

You look up at him, desperate for his answer and decision.

“Only if I get to know you, too. Here,”

He taps his finger to the table, hand still not letting go of yours. You make sure once more, “like right here?”

He nods, “until today’s first customer.”

You’re not sure if the smile on your lips is for him or just out of embarrassment, “Well technically you are one,” you chuckle, “at least let me put this back to the kitchen.”

Well, now that your stupid crush issue is all clear, you can finally find the courage to look at his face one more time, no meddling. All you can focus on was the soft and playful beam on his eyes behind that thick specs.

“Tell Kouji-san you got a date tonight.”

[18:06] sensei [18:06] i might have to clock off early

[18:12] Oh sure, something’s up?

[18:13] yeah umm [18:13] i just booked myself a date

[18:14] Oooh [18:14] Hahaha [18:14] About time that wonwoo

[18:14] ??? [18:14] sensei???

—

[m.list]

im bout to make a “try not writing scenario about another meet cute at 3 am” challenge (already failed)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You stand behind the counter, ready to serve the next customer that comes through the door. If you thought the rush was bad, the lulls are worse. The time drags by as the clock seems to taunt you. You sigh again as you hear Bre clattering around in the back room. You’d rather be back there folding up empty boxes and scouring trays.

You yawn and waver on your feet. The small local cafe doesn’t have the consistent traffic of the franchised kiosk just down the block but there are still hectic rushes. The mornings just after nine, then at noon when the office workers run out for a refresh espresso or a lunchtime sweet, but the afternoons usually deliver no more than the errant college student on their laptop or a few friends in between visits to boutiques.

The door opens and you glance over at the man who walks through the door. He strikes you as out-of-place as he struts across the cafe, hitting a table with his thigh, and sneering at it as if it insulted his mother. He’s tall with broad shoulders, and his hair is slicked back while the sides of his head are buzzed. He wears a black turtle neck under and open jacket and a pair of matching slacks that show off his ankles. His loafers are a rippling grey and black snakeskin print with a shining silver buckle.

You grip the sides of the till as he approaches but he doesn’t look at you. You stare, a little put off by his lack of acknowledgement as he peers up at the menu. He steps forward, tapping his fingers on the counter as he blows out between his lips. A golden signet ring flashes on his pinkie. You’re still not sure he’s in the right place.

“Hello, sir, can I get you--”

“Shh,” he hisses and holds up his finger. You snap your mouth shut and blink. He squints at the menu. He hums, clucking as he gives a thoughtful look to the hand-painted letters. Alright?

You wiggle your foot impatiently, biting your tongue. You’re not an inherently rude person but some customers make you wish you were. You watch him and he finally lowers his chin.

“Oat latte. Half blonde espresso, half regular, with the toffee nut syrup and a sprinkle of cinnamon.”

You nod as you punch in his order. It’s quite the drink. Sometimes you think people just pile on to see how far they can push service workers. They can’t just have a simple drink. Some even request the temperature to the digit.

“Alright, got it, it’s fifty cents for the syrup, is that okay?”

“Fifty cents?” He echoes haughtily, “no, that’s not okay.”

“Um, okay, well, it’s uh, on the menu,” you crane to look behind you, “fifty cents for a flavour shot, twenty-five for whipped cream.”

“I didn’t ask about goddamn whipped cream. They don't charge me here, doll. Get me the goddamn drink,” he demands.

You reel. Admittedly, you’re new. You’re learning but your first lesson was simple; customers are awful.

“I can just take the syrup off, I guess,” you hit the x and the whole order disappears.

“Didn’t you hear me? No charge, honey. It’s on the house.”

You purse your lips and look at him. You raise a brow. Alright, this is a new one.

“Um, if you’d just hold on, I think... uh, I should ask--”

“Yeah, you better fucking ask,” he sneers as swipes at a stack of paper cups and sends them flying. You flinch out of the way and spin to burst through the door to the kitchen.

“Uh, Bre,” you say, “there’s a really angry dude out there and he wants a free latte so uh, what do I do about that?”

She looks over at you as she puts a tray of cookies on a cooling rack. She frowns and her forehead stitches. She pulls of her oven mitt and checks her fitbit.

“Shit, it’s Thursday,” she mutters as if it’s the end of time.

“Yeah, it is, so uh--”

She waves away your words with the mitt and tosses both on the counter as she hurries past you. Confused, you turn to follow her through the swinging door. You stay behind her as she goes to the till.

“Mr. Hansen, so lovely to see you, what were we getting today?” She chimes, more lively than you’ve ever heard you. At any other time, she’s dulcet, almost monotone, completely over the cafe lifestyle.

He scoffs and his eyes drift from her to you. He pokes his tongue into his cheek, “oat, toffee nut, half blond, half regular, cinnamon on top,” he notes each element tersely, “and how about you teach this one some goddamn manners.”

He glares at you and you give a wide-eyed look. You shrug at Bre as she glances over at you. She shakes her head subtly. You take a step back.

You grab a cup and she quickly takes it out of your hands, “I got it, stay out of the way.”

You put your hands up and back away. You don’t know what you did wrong. Who is this man? He smirks and hovers on the other side of the counter as he crosses his arms over his puffed chest. Bre brews a fresh espresso and steams the oat milk.

“I’m waiting, sweet lips,” he cups a hand to his ear, his other arm still over his chest.

You look back and forth.

“Apologise,” he demands.

Bre clears her throat and you glance over, your mouth falling open dumbly.

“Oh, uh,” you face the man again, “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t know--”

“Well, now you fucking do,” he sneers as Bre places a cup down before him and a paper bag.

“Mr. Hansen, there’s a cinnamon bun for you too. We just took em out of the oven.”

“You’re such a dear, Bre Bear,” he cooes, sending you a venomous snarl.

You cringe as he spins and strides out with his fare. You watch after him, still thoroughly perplexed. Bre wipes the counter with a cloth.

“The next time he comes in, give him whatever he wants,” she says quietly.

“Oh, I didn’t... who is he?” You garble.

“Better you don’t know. Just think of him as the boss,” she sends you a desperate look, her eyes gleaming, “if you know what’s good for you, you’ll smile and listen.”

She brushes you with her shoulder as she goes back into the kitchen. You furrow your brow and glance towards the door. The man’s just outside the windowed walls, watching you. He winks before he disappears beyond the next facade

[momolady]

Jasper the Bugbear

First story of the year and I'm giving ya'll a double decker one to set off the year right! This story feature intrigue, espionaige, fucking over the rich, and a cozy bookstore featuring a very handsome bugbear. Female Main Character: Male Monster (both cis)

The letter arrived first thing in the morning, delivered into my hands by someone who whisked away as quickly as they appeared. I had been hunkered down in this small town waiting on this for a while now.

“Geez,” I mumbled over the letter. “Who did they let write this thing?” I squinted over the paper, trying to decipher some of the illegible handwriting. I scoffed, pulling back and rubbing the bridge of my nose. I’d been restless waiting for this thing to come in. I had been placed here for a while now in an attempt to blend in. I posed myself in town, scouting things out, selling trinkets under the guise of charity. I was growing bored with it, not many of the people I had been charged with finding were the type to just go out into the market.

“Dear Caranina,” the letter started off.

“Not my name,” I grumbled. In a bit of spite, I took my own quill and scraped it out, writing ‘Carina’ over it.

“We know you have been waiting long to wehdhjfjfhshj from us. It has taken us quite a while to jshdjhkfjihf and ahdfhrjhuidhh in order to assure your mission runs smoothly.”

You scoffed under your breath. “Were they writing this letter under siege?”

“The festival coming up is the start. While the festival is important there is also a banquet the the aedkfehkjekhkdj family of the ajhdhfkjhdjkd holds every year. It is important that you Caranina-” I scratched that out again, “-must attend the jkfgkjjfeuedhus banquet. This may require you attaining a date from those on the guest list. We have provided to you a guest list, sent to us from another scout in the city.”

“Please let someone else have written that list,” Iyou muttered under myyour breath.

“We have provided it below for you.”

IYou leaned back in Myyour chair and rubbed the bridge of my nose up and down. I took in a deep breathbreat to quelel the frustration bubbling in my gut. “It’s fine. It’s fine, surely I can read one of them.”

“It is imperative you find your way into this party. We will contact you again soon with details of our target, most of which should already be known to you. Warmest regards hdfjjfdkhfeljirorhfdhjjd.”

“Great, I’ll have to tell hdfjjfdkhfeljirorhfdhjjd their hand writing sucks,” I mumbled under my breath.

Below was the supposed list of names, most, if not all of them, were illegible and wonky. I could only make out a few of them. I recognized one, a miracle in its own right. The fellow worked at a bookstore in town. Jasper Synclayr Humbeclaw, a bugbear, and a real smart guy type who seemed to have his fingers in a lot of pies and has done well for himself financially. His intellect could easily be mistaken due to his imposing figure. But I can’t help but think that is why the upper echelon like him so much. An oddity is one thing, an educated oddity is another.

I walked into his bookstore first thing that morning. It was dark outside still, the sun had risen but the clouds had not parted and were growing heavier and thicker by the moment. I could smell the rain that was to come, and I knew if it came, I could extend my visit with Jasper that much longer without it seeming odd.

“I thought I heard the bell.”

I looked up from the book in my hand to see Jasper standing there. Tall, imposing, and dressed very well. His fur was well groomed, his beard trimmed to give the illusion of an extra sharp jawline. Thick brows that gave an air of distinguished intelligence. He certainly looked the part of a bookstore keep.

“Good morning.” He set a thick stack of books down upon the counter. “Are you looking for anything in particular today?”

Just you, I thought to myself. “No, thank you.” I was at least sincere there. “I wanted to look around for a bit. I’ve always walked by the shop but I’ve never been inside.” I smiled politely, at least I didn’t have to fake much. The guild knew what it was doing, sending me in after all.

Jasper nodded, gently taking off his glass. “Yes, I’ve seen you around the last few weeks. You’ve been selling jewelry around town, haven'tahven’t you?”

“Prayer beads and religious charms,” I corrected with a bright smile. “Something to send back to the monastery.” A tiny lie. I was keeping the money.

He nodded, using a small cloth to wipe off his glasses. “What’s the monastery?”

I thought quickly. “Esmeraude Monastery. It’s far, far up north. Very snowy, very cold.” I wasn’t lying when I said it was going to Esmeraude, it’s my last name, and I did live up north as a child.

Jasper placed his glasses back on. “Sounds like a beautiful place,” he chuckled softly. “Well, don’t let me bother you. Books are meant to be perused, so enjoy yourself. Should you need any help, I’ll be around.” He picked up the stack of books and walked out behind the counter, disappearing behind a row of mahogany shelves.

Thunder rumbled outside and I smiled excitedly. The bigger the storm, the more likely I would have to linger inside. Not that I would mind, there were worse placesd to get trapped in than a bookstorebook store.

I wandered around to appear nonchalant at first. I looked through books, easing my way closer to where Jasper was working. I found him close to the back, taking books down from a shelf he was cleaning. Thunder growled low in the distance again, and Jasper turned his head slightly, spotting me.

“Sounds like a storm is coming,” he says.

“Such things do happen when one is busy,” I tutted. “I hope you don’t mind me getting caught here if it does.”

“Not at all. I would hate for a lovely lady such as yourself to get caught in that mess.” He wiped down the top of a book and sets it back upon the shelf.

I was a bit surprised by his comment. It made my cheeks flush ever so slightly. “Thank you.” I inched in even closer. “Would be a shame if the rain continued into the festival though.”

“True,” he sighed. “The people do look forward to it.” He turned a book over in his hands, inspecting the cover as if something was wrong. “Have you ever attended the festival here? It’s quite the event.” He set the book back upon the shelf after his thorough inspection.

“Afraid not. This is my first time here. I am excited to attend and see everything first hand for myself.” I reached for the exact same book as Jasper, causing our hands to collide. I notice how large his are, in comparison to mine. It shouldn’t have been surprising, after all, he stood head and shoulders over me. But his hands, to my surprise, were quite marvelous.

Jasper gently recoiled. “I beg your pardon, Miss.”

“No harm done.” I took the book, opening the pages. “Cara.”

His brow pinched.

“My name. You don’t need to call me Miss,” I chuckled.

He nodded, a slight smile appearing on his lips that curved up past his tusks. “Nice to meet you, Cara.” The way he said my name had a low, deep growl to it. My reaction of excited heartbeats surprised me.

I ducked back down into the book to hide my blush, but perhaps that would help me. “I heard someone say there was a banquet at the festival. I’m sure that's the highlight of the event.”

“Well, for some I’m sure,” he said hesitantly.

I looked up from my book. “What do you mean? Is the town full of horrible cooks?”

His smile returned, brighter and larger. He laughed and shook his head as for the first time he turned to fully face me. “There is a banquet, just for a select few I am afraid.”

“Which select?” I asked knowingly, offering him back the book in my clutches.

He took the book, his fingers brushing against mine again. “From tThe sound of your tone, I take it you can already tell.”

“The big wigs of the town have their own celebration away from the commoners?” I glanced back, seeing that rain hadhas begun splattering against the window.

“Would you want them to mingle?” Jasper said with a laugh.

A slight twinge of resentment came from that remark. Whether he was joking or trying to make some commentary, it came off wrong. “Are you suggesting the two should not? Because you are talking to the wrong person when it comes to such things.”

The hair on the back of his neck bristled, and the way his broad shoulders tensed I could tell I had struck a frightened nerve. “No I-”

“It’s a shame to me that there is such disparity as to create a sense of them and us,” I continued. “That money and class should separate people who are all the same when laid open. What good is wealth when there is suffering of your own kind? It is a shame. A sham really. A lie told to people to make them feel superior, when any number of the supposed wealthy are probably worse and more classless than the supposed brutes and commoners they’re trying to separate themselves from.”

His eyes are glassy, wide and surprised.

I huffed and shook my head. “If you let it, money will take your soul. I fully believe it!”

Jasper hung his head, looking disparaged. “I am sorry, Mis…Cara. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”

“You live and work in a part of the town that’s profitable, that’s marked in high regard by these elites. I suppose you wouldn’t know what to mean.”

It was quietquite for a long moment and the storm came in, with howling winds and growling thunder to fill the silence.

“You’re right,” Jasper let out a breathy laugh. “It has been a long time since I looked beyond my own comfortable place. I should know better than to joke.”

I gave him a soft look. “At least you can recognize . Iit.” There was something about him, I’m not sure, but I do think I could like him.“I hope I didn’t frighten you too badly. You looked like a kitten being barked at.”

Jasper smiled. “Hard lessons are my favorite to learn. Sometimes a fellow needs to be reeducated, I should thank you for the fright.”

My heart leapt into a quicker pace, and a genuine grin grew. Oh no. Perhaps I already do like him. “Think nothing of it,” I laughed it off. “In my line of work, it’s a constant thought.”

“I’m sure.” He knelt to get something from the floor then stood back erect. “Do you have any of your wares with you? Perhaps I could sell some here in the shop. I’ll match whatever is sold so you can send double back to your monastery.”

“Oh uh-” Guilt hit me like a sack of bricks. “No. Uhm…it wouldn’t oh-” What do I say to this? Think Cara think!

“Or-” Jasper’s tone went distant and I saw in his golden eyes that he became lost in thought. “I know there is always some sort of argument over the charities my friends give to. They’re always trying to one up each other.”

I held my breath, surely he wasn’t going to suggest what I was thinking. “Friends?” My voice cracked.

Jasper’s glance twitched my way, and his usual expression returned. “Oh sorry. The banquet coming up, there’s always some form of competition about what charity they’re giving too.”

I frowned at him and he shrugged.

“I know. It’s ridiculous. But it’s something they sincerely try to one up each other on. Perhaps you could take advantage of that.”

It wouldn’t be the only thing I’d take advantage of that evening. But wait…what? Did he really suggest it?

“Come with me. I usually don’t have a date for these evenings, so it might be fun.”

I was gobsmackedgodsmacked. How did it turn out to be that easy? I thought I’d have to seduce him first! “You’re serious?” I gawked. “You’re inviting me, just like that?”

Jasper just smiled. “If it helps your monastery.”

My gut was frothing in confusion over how to feel about this. But, I succeeded, I would be going to banquet!

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Jasper turned back to the shelf, loading it up with books again. “Don’t think of it that way. You’ll be my guest. I’d be honored to have such a lady as you with me that evening. Besides, I call them friends, but I do find them all quite boring.”

I bit down on my lip. “What makes you think I’m not?”

Jasper chuckled and looked back over his shoulder at me. “I have a sense about these things, Ms. Cara.”

The blush rose up to my cheeks, tingling slightly from his expression alone. I can’t catch feelings for Jasper, not when this mission is against the people he associates with. Bad move, Cara, you know better!

Despite this, I decided it would be smart to gather knowledge from Jasper. After all, if I was going to this banquet, I wanted to know what I was up for. I could gather information about him, send back some of my findings in advance. There were a few of the banquet attendees we were after, so anything and everything was helpful.

I returned to Jasper’s bookstore the next day and the next under the guise of nervousness for the party. He seemed glad to see me each day, inviting me in, chatting with me, I even helped him dust shelves and tend to misplaced books. He shared tea with me, even invited me for dinner one evening.

“I feel I am taking advantage,” I told him. It was the truth. I was starting to grow a gnawing sense of guilt. But this was my mission after all, and it was my fault for growing attached to Jasper.

“Not at all. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a friend over that I enjoyed.” Jasper filled my tea cup then returned to the stove to deal with the food.

I chewed the inside of my cheek for a moment. “You don’t like any of these people you deal with, do you?” I finally asked. “The way you’ve spoken about them recently… I’m sorry if I’ve taken this all wrong, but you don’t sound very fond of them.”

Jasper sighed heavily. “There is some truth to what you say. Most of them I know would rather take me or leave me. Some I don’t have much respect for.” He covered a pot then came to sit back down at the table with me.

“Then why associate with them?”

Jasper scoffed. “You want to know the truth? To keep them coming to the shop so I can get their money.”

I smiled despite myself. “So you’re playing the long con?”

Jasper had been raisingrising his teacup to his lips but he set it back down. “Not a con, exactly. They are getting exactly what they pay for but-” He huffed and took off his glasses. “I know if I don’t associate with them, create some sort of fashion out of the experience, I wouldn’t make ends meet, let alone maintain the life I do have.”

“A grifter then,” I teased. Under the table I felt his foot tap against my leg in a playful kick. It was a move I was not expecting, nor was I prepared for the reaction it would give me.

“We do what we can to survive,” Jasper said in a low, whisper-like murmur. “And I do not wish to go back to my former method of survival.”

This shift in tone bristled the hairs on the back of my neck. “You can’t just say things like that and not expect me to ask for a follow up.” I gave him a soft smile to urge his story forward. “What was survival for you before the bookstore?”

Jasper glanced away, his eyes flickering towards the door to the next room. He stood and waved his hand for me to follow. “I’ll show you.” He took me into a parlor-like room with nice furniture and everything was a varying shade of deep green or gold. On the wall over the stone fireplace was a sword of grand size. The blade glinted gold in the light of the fire, and the handle was wrapped up, covered by thick woven bands.

Now, I am not a strong person at all, by far I’m the weakest of my group physically. The sword on the wall was daunting for me, but I could tell it would give most members of my guild some extreme effort to raise. This was the sword of no mere fighter. No, this sword belonged to another type of creature altogetherall together.

“Your words from when we first met reminded me of what I came from,” Jasper muttered. “I was ashamed to think about what I had turned into.”

I turned my attention to his stony expression. “Don’t say that. We all make changes in life.”

“Yes but, it is a fool who forgets where they come from, Cara.” His voice becomes a low, almost angry growl.

I reached out to him, taking hold of his hand and squeezed it extra hard. He turned to me, looking at me with glassy eyes. He  rubbed his large hand over his face, sniffling and trying to regain himself.

“You obviously remember,” I said to coax him.

His hand squeezed mine back. “I am forgetting something at this moment, Cara.”

I furrowed my brow and tilted my head up to him in confusion.“Which is?”

“How to be a gentleman. I almost bent down and kissed you like the ruffian I once was,” he said with a laugh.

My stomach knotted up, not in a bad way, but one of expectancy. “You could ask me.” The words poured from me, I didn’t mean to be so blunt.

Jasper chuckled, smoothed his beard into a point again. “I shouldn’t.”

I shrugged. “Try me.”

Jasper turned to face me, placing his hands first upon my shoulders then moving one up along the side of my neck and onto my cheek. His palm was so big and warm, it was amazing as he touched me. I shivered a bit, excited and conscious of what this could lead to.

“Cara,” he said with a shaky breath, “I am going to kiss you now.”

“I dare you then,” I giggled.

Jasper began to lean down towards me and I was stunned. I close my eyes, accepting his kiss. His tusks were cool against my skin, his fur was soft. I reached for him, touching the sides of his neck then slowly moving my palms over his broad chest.

When he pulled back, both of us were a touch breathless. He moved in to kiss me again, but he gasped and pulled back. I looked up angrily, but he moved off swiftly to the kitchen. “Excuse me, Ms. Cara! But our meal.”

“Oh!” I followed after him. “Right! Dinner.” I laughed as I returned to my seat at the table. I was flustered, fidgeting with my robe as I tried to distract myself from the thoughts blooming in my head. This was bad. I wasn’t supposed to be falling for Jasper. —

It was the night of the banquet, and I was considering turning Jasper down. It didn’t feel right to go. I’d made a mistake by possibly falling for Jasper. Each time I kissed him, the guilt was unbearable. It almost came to a head a few days before the kisses began turning into something much more. His storage room was small, warm, and dimly lit. I’d been helping him find a certain stash of books and we’d gotten smashed together.

His body was close, quite literally on top of mine. He was a mountain of a man, but I felt so safe, so strangely turned on by the moment. The room grew hotter, our bodies were pressed so tightly together you couldn’t fit a page between us. Jasper was hard against my hip and I was growing wet.

Jasper growled low in my ear, sending ripples through my body. He kept rutting himself into me so I could feel the entirety of him. He was thick and I could only imagine what that thing would do to me. His hands pushed up my skirt, touching bare skin, groping my rear. He growled again against my neck as his fingers slipped between my thighs. I touched him, grabbing hold of the shaft and stroking slowly. His voice became more hungry, so desperate. I wanted that voice to come out louder, deeper. I undid his pants, taking that warm, thick cock into my palm.

“Cara,” he snarled.

I nodded, breathing hard as I took both hands to hold him. “Like that?”

He grunted, pushing me into the wall as my fingers wrapped tightly around him, pleasuring him so deeply he began to shiver.

“Big thing like you could devour me, couldn't you? Those teeth…those hands…could rip me apart-” I whimpered.

“Cara-” he moaned again.

“I want you to,” I moaned, leaning up close to his face. I saw his eyes and I suddenly went still, my body was wracked with guilt. But the bell rang at the same moment, so Jasper mistook it for another kind of fear, and we left there.

I paced back and forth in my place, thinking about what I should do. If Jasper found out what I was up to could he forgive me? Would he understand? Or worse, would he hate me?

There was a knock on my door and all blood drained from my face. I approached the door, peering through a crack to try and see who was outside.

“It’s me, Cara,” Jasper announced with joy in his voice.

My mouth flopped open. “I was meeting you!” I fussed.

“I know, but I have a surprise for you.”

My guts churned. No, no, no, not a surprise you big fool! I slowly cracked open the door, peering up at him. “I’m uh…I’m not exactly ready yet, Jasper.”

Jasper had a smile that stretched past his tusks. “That’s fine. I have something for that anyways.”

I let him, silently stepping aside as he came into my room. His eyes darted around before looking back at me, his huge grin not fading. “You’re not nervous about tonight, are you?” He asked.

“A little,” I played into it.

He came to me as I closed the door, taking hold of my hand. “I’ve got you. There’s nothing to worry about. Besides, if I know anything about you Cara, it’s that you could run circles around them effortlessly.”

I smiled weakly and rubbed at my arm. “Thanks, Jasper.”

He squeezed my hand then reached into the pocket of his waistcoat. I was so nervous I hadn’t noticed how sharpley he was dressed. His fur was combed, his beard trimmed, he wore that mix of green and gold that looked so good on him. He was so handsome.

“I got you a present.” He offereda small box to me. “Something special to wear tonight.”

Why did he do this? Why did I have to hurt so badly from a small box? I took it into my hand, opening it up to see the drop earrings inside.

“They’re made from moonstone. I saw them in a shop and they made me think of you.” The moonstones were shaped like water drops, topped with silver and a single red gem in the center. They were beautiful, I loved them instantly.

“You didn’t need to do that,” I murmured.

Jasper came forward, taking one of the earrings in one hand then holding my head with the other. “I know. But the moment I saw them, I wanted to see you wearing them.”

Those words mingled with his touch made me sigh out of pleasure. He slipped the hook into my ear then stepped back and repeated it with the other ear.  Jasper took a step back to look, and I saw on his face the same expression from the storage room.

“How do they look?” I murmured.

He nodded, keeping his mouth shut.

“Jasper-” my voice caught in my throat as I walked towards him. I placed my hands upon his chest. He kissed me, sweeping me off my feet. I didn’t fight it. Perhaps if we carried on we would miss the banquet and he would never find out why I was here, why I was with him.

I clung to him, leading him to believe in my desperation. I wanted him to kiss me longer, deeper, I needed him to grow just like that day in the storage room. He pulled away though and gently set me down upon the ground.

“I should let you finish getting ready,” he cleared his throat.

My mouth flopped open and closed. I then shut it tight and nodded. “Yeah. I should-” An idea struck me and I took a few steps back. “I need to change mostly.” I undid my clothing, letting it slip off my shoulders then down around my ankles. His eyes grew wide and his nostrils flared.

I smirked with some smugness as I saw the fire behind his glasses. I touched the earrings then dragged my fingers tip down my body in a slow agonizing way. His eyes lingered the entire time.

He finally jerked, looking away and putting on his airs. “Cara! What are you doing? The banquet!”

“They prefer if you’re fashionably late, don’t they?” I walked towards him, feeling less guilty if I tricked him this way. I slid my hand up his leg, rubbing my palm to his groin. “Please, Jasper?” I whispered.

He growled low, and that sound sent wicked little shivers through my body. I continued to touch him, grinding my palm into him as he began to stiffen. His strong hands gripped onto my bare shoulders and I took off his pants. I felt bad they would get wrinkled, but I needed this now. I could throw myself into passion, to desire, and forget how I’ve used him. I could tell him the truth later, once we missed the banquet and my job was ruined.

I grabbed hold of his cock, leading him over to the bed. I pushed him down upon it and crawled on top of him. He looked so beautiful all made up, and I was going to ruin that too.

“Cara, where did this come from?” Jasper gasped.

I smirked down upon him, rubbing myself against him. “From the moment I saw you.” I gasped breathlessly. “And that other day in the storage room. I’ve not stopped aching for you.”

Jasper grabbed hold of my hips, grinding his teeth the more he felt me. His deep moans echoed through my brain, driving me forward to keep going. It was working, I just hoped I could keep him entertained long enough. I looked down, taking hold of the base of his shaft. I caught his eyes, making him watch as I rubbed his tip against me. He was so thick, could I really take him?

“Easy,” he grunted.

“I’ll do as I please.” I began to lower myself down onto him. I lost my breath for a moment, then I let out a pleasurable cry. Jasper was moaning, wriggling slightly the more I took.

He was deep inside me, and I forgot everything except every touch of him upon me. His great big hands began roaming up my body, his large form was held tight underneath me, and inside me, oh by the gods, he was so deep inside me.

“I’m dizzy, Cara,” he snarled.

“Not too sensitive are you?” I said with a smirk. I circled my hips, taking him and grinding him inside me. I wanted to tease him, but it was backfiring! I’m sure I was feeling it more than he was.

“Not that…just…so long,” he grunted between breaths.

“Then maybe I should have started off with something easier,” I panted. “Maybe I should-” I started to pull away from him, knowing I had to waste my time wisely.

Jasper grabbed a hold of me and I was stunned for a moment by the force. He pushed me down on my stomach, anchoring his large body over top of me. He slid his cock between my cheeks and held his hands upon my wrist.

“Not so fast,” he chuckled with a dark tone.

“Listen to yourself,” I panted. “You almost scared me.”

His cock slipped between my thighs, rutting against me again. “You can’t just give me the sweetest treat in the world and pull it away. Let me savor it a bit longer.”

“I wasn’t.” I lost my voice and all my breath as he pushed back inside me. My smile became goofy upon my lips and I had to moan into the bed.

“Yes.” He released one of my hands in order to grab my hair. “Just give me a few moments. Oh Car-” his voice cracked. “I need to feel you.”

That was fine by me. He could have done anything to me right then and I would have been okay. It had been quite a while for me, and I wanted Jasper all this time. I trembled, squeezing tight around his shaft as he made small, gentle pushes.

“Oh fuck,” his deep voice rattled in my brain. “We’ll be so late. But you’ll be too full to eat anything at the banquet.” His other hand freed my wrist and he rose up taller behind me.

Oh my god! Why did that sound so hot?

He pushed in deeper, pulling out while his hand clapped down hard upon my ass. I cried out against the bed, it was too much, too good. He spanked me again as he pushed back inside and I laughed in a crazy tone.

He smoothed his soft palms over my cheeks, pushing them together then squeezing them. He pulled out again and rolled me over, laying me so I had to look up at him. His eyes glazed over upon seeing me, his mouth hung open slightly as drool collected around the base of his tusk.

I propped myself up on my elbows and the earrings dangled against my neck. “Jasper, I have something I need to tell you.”

He spread my thighs wide open. “I do as well.” He laid his cock against my belly, rubbing himself there.

“I…I can’t go to the banquet.”

Jasper licked his tusk. “I know. Not like this anyways.” He eased himself back inside me and I whined quite loudly.

“No…not like-” My eyes began to roll to the back of my head. “You don’t…oh!”

He pushed my head down into the bed, turning it so my ear was facing up towards him. He licked around the edge, snarling so close to me it was like my skin would vibrate off my bones.

“I need you now. I can’t stop. But I need to go to this banquet.” He bit my neck then my shoulder.

“I do too, but I-” I shivered again and my mind went blank.

“I’m an informant,” he whispered before delivering a mighty blow that rocked me, knocking around any thought I had and squashing it. My body was inflamed, tingling and crackling all over. I lost my breath, my vision for a moment.

Jasper pulled away, leaving me heaving heavily as he went to pour himself some water. He stood by the window, his back turned to me as I rose from the bed.

“Jasper-”

“These people, I need them Cara. Not in the way you think.”

I was afraid to stand up, I’m not even sure how he was. Wait…he didn’t finish! I brushed my hair out of my face. “Who are you an informant for?”

“I’ve never met them, just the fellow I meet with. But back before, back when I had nothing, they gave me the footing to start my business and live the life I wanted. I just had to pay them back. I was afraid of telling you. You work so hard…you’re such a-”

“Stop,” I snapped. I managed to stand and walk to the desk, taking out the letters I had been given about my mission. I looked them over then back at him. “I think I know who it is.”

Jasper’s thick brow furrowed when he saw the handwriting on the letters. “How do you know when you can’t even read the handwriting?”

I dropped the letters back onto the desktop and the two of us looked at one another for a long while.

“You were using me?” He asked quietly.

“At first,” I murmured. “But I couldn’t-” I shook my head and looked away. “I was trying to miss the whole evening by…by fucking you. Which I wanted to do regardless, mind you!” I looked into his eyes, seeing a smile he was trying to hide.

Jasper unbuttoned his waistcoat and took it off with his shirt. He stood naked there at the window, and I was breathless again. “Why did you?”

I couldn’t tell if he was mad. “Because I-” I took a step closer to him. “Because I care. A lot actually.”

Jasper took hold of me and set me upon the windowsill. “We’re working together now,” he whispered, gently pushing aside my hair and burying his face into my neck. “Informant and spy.” he eased himself back inside me and I wrapped my legs around his waist.

The glass was cold against my back, but I could barely tell it was there. I still wasn’t sure if he was angry, but his body and mine melted together and I could sense he was nothing if not elated. I grasped onto him, letting him do as he wished to come. I wanted him to. I needed him too.

At the banquet I was a bit delirious. I gazed off into the distance, but Jasper snapped me back into attention.

“Remember why you’re here,” he whispered.

“Right, donations.” I drank a dark red punch filled with berries and nectar. “I’m still trying to process this.”

He smirked. “What, our lovemaking?”

I hissed at him then looked over the crowd. “No. That’s your the-” I held my breath as some people walked by us. “The you-know-what.”

“You still have to apologize for trying to use me,” he said with a smarmy tone. “But I’ll forgive you.”

I pouted up at him, setting my glass down as a group gathered around us. Jasper was listening, taking in everything while I put on the show and did the work. I managed to make quite a bit of coin off these fools as they tried to one up themselves.

“You should come to my home, I can donate a lot of old knick knacks around the house my wife keeps collecting,” one man blurted out without much thought.

To my chagrin, it was one of the men I needed to get close to. I reached back, taking hold of Jasper’s hand. “I would be honored, sir!”

I got more invites after that, others who continued to try and show off to each other rather than try to perform a good act. As they dissipated when the music began, I took Jasper’s hand and kissed each soft pad on his palm.

Jasper took the bite of food he was eating and set it aside. “What was that for?” He chuckled.

“A small start to our victory.” My expression melted as I looked up at him. “If you still wish to work with me, that is.”

He took my hand as well, kissing it in return. “Partners from here on out. Like it was all meant to be.”

[soiwj]

Tasty Treat

Arlecchino x fem!baker!reader

Link to part 2

Very ooc arlecchino

(i dont know her character wel but she's hot, so i thought I'd give it a shot)

Planning on doing research on her though!!

Fuckk i love women omg

Second mini-fic ever how exciting!!

Please request stuff here!! It's hard to come up with prompts ;-;

I wrote this at 3 am so excuse the lack of structure

You start your usual routine of setting everything up for the day, although today is a bit special. Your bakery doesn't have many customers, considering the place it's in is quite remote. A peaceful forrest that's still in fontaine borders yet far away from any other buildings or people.

You chose this place because you appreciate the beauty and peace that nature brings you. The birds whisteling in the morning, the foxes chittering, the sound of tree leaves rustling. Yet that peace comes with quite a heft price. Loneliness. Besides the old lady that lives in a small village near the forrest, you don't get much human interaction. Even though your bakery is quite big and fits lots of people, you don't really have a lot of customers to share it with.

A week ago, you received a business offer from the house of the hearth. Since the bakery near the orphanage closed down, they don't have any establishments providing them things like breakfast treats and pastries. That's why they're employing you. The contract has you preparing and delivering the food to the hearth.

Even though this seemed like quite a lot of work, you accepted. I mean, how could you not? You get to make pasteries for adorable kids, making them smile, AND you get paid? This is a dream come true. After years of sulking alone in the damp forest serving a customer here and there, you get the privilege of a constant source of profit.

After hours of baking, your tired eyes look at the required amount of food stated in the order, and you realize that this is only enough for the kids. How strange that the boss herself did not order anything. Does she eat breakfast somewhere else? Nevertheless, you decide to make something anyway.

After packing up the orders, you start walking towards the orphanage, barely holding on to the several boxes stacked on top of eachother.

As you arrive, you set the boxes down and ring the orphanage's doorbell. An earie ring echoes from inside.

A tall woman opens the door. Her snow white hair with the occasional black streak looks down at you from the doorframe. Her brows furrow slightly at the sight of you, and the boxes.

"Are you alone?" She asks, you're confused, to say the least. "...yes?" You mutter. "How come you've managed to carry all those boxes on your lonesome?" Her sultry voice sounds out as she crosses her arms in amusement, holding back a grin. Before you can answer, you hear who you assume are the kids, walking slowly towards the persumed dining room.

"I'll help you with these," Arlecchino says curtly as she picks up a few boxes to bring to the kitchen. You pick up the last remaining boxes as you tail behind her.

As you and Arlecchino start unpacking and putting the treats on plates, you can't help but think of how different you expected Arlecchino to be. Clearly, her reputation precedes her. All the while your mind is drifting off to several different subjects, you don't notice the red-crossed eyes staring your way.

After the children finish eating, you stay a while, wanting to hear their opinion on the treats. As you basically survey them, you take the time to get to know some of them. Playing games with them and answering their unending questions.

As you realise you've overstayed your welcome, you say goodbye to the kids and quickly leave the orphanage. On your way back, you reach your hand into your purse, trying to take out your cherry flavored gum. You eventually find it but with it a little pink box brushes your hand. The cookie, you forgot to give it to Arlecchino.

Sat in her office, Arlecchino can't stop thinking about the kind-hearted baker she employed. Just looking at her interacting with the kids made something burn up inside of her. A little warmth that warms her cold, unfeeling heart. She looks out the window, hoping to have some reprieve from this strange feeling. Yet it seems the archons are against her wishes as she sees a certain baker running towards the orphanage. Almost tripping on her way. Even though it is foolish to entertain feelings for such a seemingly simple creature, Arlecchino can't help but grin at another interaction with her. Usually, she doesn't like to play with her food. But this time, she might make you an exception.

You stumble into the building as one of the kids, whom you now know is called Tealus, opens the door for you. With the pink box in hand, you stride through the halls looking for Arlecchino's office. As you ask one of the children, they point to the dark, long hallway without windows. How fitting. Your heels clicking softly as you walk over to her black office double doors. This place seems more like a villain's lair than an orphanage to you now, but you digress.

You knock 5 times in a specific pattern you were used to as a child when you hear a stern "Come in." You pull the golden doorhandle as the office window light starts flooding the hallway. You quickly close the door behind you as you step closer to her desk.

She does not look up from the paperwork on her desk as she multitasks without problem. "Why are you still here, baker." Just because she approves of your bond with the kids does not mean she will treat you differently from other people. "I saw there was nothing for you on the order list, so I made you something." You say proudly. You start rambling as you explain how you forgot to give it to her during breakfast.

She interrupts you as she reaches out her hand. "Can I see it?" You're flustered as you quickly hand her the box. She places it down gently on her desk as she lifts the packaging. Facing Arlecchino is a cookie with a white base, decorated with a black and red spider on top. "How adorable," Arlecchino mutters softly. Your soft 'huh' drives her back to reality as she responds. "I'm not very fond of sweet treats. I prefer savory things." She almost chuckles at the sight of your worried eyes locking with hers. "I can make you something else if you'd like? Hmm, although I can't think of many savory pasteries..." As you start naming some options, you reach for the cookie, trying to throw it away, but Arlecchino's quick reflexes hold your wrist before you can get close. "I thought you didn't like it?" Your confusion radiating off of you. "I never said such a thing. I merely said I prefer savory treats." She softly lets your wrist go as she stores the cookie on a desk extension behind her.

From then on, this has become routine, although some things have changed throughout the weeks. Instead of delivering the food alone, Arlecchino stops by early in the morning to help you carry them. Sometimes, it results in small talk when you haven't finished packing the orders yet.

Usually, she doesn't speak much and lets you do all the talking. You fear she's getting annoyed from your constant ramblings, but unbeknownst to you, she loves it when you talk about your interests and things you love.

This was a bit short, but if you wanna see a specific trope with this situation, you can req anything you wantt!!

Might do a part 2 of this idk yet