#must be having a bad time in the heatwave

[specialgradefckr]

Heatwave: Day 2

tw: explicit content. 5k+ words. yuta/reader. female!alpha!reader, alpha!yuta, reader has a knot but also a vag. very barely dubcon, masturbation, fingering. mostly lots of pining. also light curse!rika/reader, but no monsterfucking (yet. curse!rika would 1000% hit it tho)

listen... it's not very smutty but read the fic. just read the fic. you're a tsundere and yuta and his curse girlfriend are smitten with you. it's really cute i promise.

Prompt: An Alpha finds themselves exhibiting omega traits in front of a stronger alpha.

Female alphas were less common than male ones, but they were common enough for there to be stereotypes about them.

Scary girls. Big girls. Strong independent women who didn’t need no men, ate pretty omega boys for breakfast.

There was a certain type of alpha – exclusively male, sometimes beta men were like this too – that saw a kind of challenge to it.

These sorts of dudes were obsessed with ‘alpha pussy’, swore it was tighter and hotter than any omega hole ever could be.

Never mind that there were some omegas who couldn’t take large knots without training, and anyone who wasn’t an omega needed a lot of practice before trying to take any knot at all.

It wasn’t about realism with these assholes. It was some weird, self-fellating bullshit about having made another alpha their bitch, being the alpha to another alpha.

Asshole alphas, that’s a good way to put it. A bunch of fuckwads who thought only with their knots and their egos.

Each and every one of them thought they were god’s gift to creation because they were alphas, born special and better than everyone else, all that garbage.

Yuta isn’t an asshole, but he is, shockingly enough, an alpha.

He’s a nice boy – maybe the nicest alpha you’ve ever met.

Makes it all the funnier that you get paired up with him on missions so often; the scary alpha girl and the gentle alpha boy.

You’d doubt his identity, too, if you didn’t know better. But you can smell it on him all the same. Unmistakable. Alpha.

And he’s strong, really strong, probably stronger than you, though the thought rankles.

Special grade, you’d heard – mostly because of the cursed spirit that hangs out with him.

But it’s not the spirit you smell when you sneak a discreet whiff of the scarf he’d left on the bench this one time. It’s an alpha, through and through.

It’s not the spirit that darts into the field on missions before you can, places himself between you and danger without even thinking about it.

Carves destruction with a graceful, brutal blade and then turns back to you with a sheepish smile asking if you’re all right.

He’s so… gentle. Careful. You’re not even sure he can get angry.

The closest you’d ever seen him to it was when a curse popped up behind you on a mission, while he was occupied with a special grade of his own on the other side of the room.

You’d seen a barrier appear in an instant, which must have been his domain expansion, and only a few seconds later the curse he’d been fighting was gone and the curse that ambushed you was impaled on his blade.

Even with blood on his face, he’d smiled at you.

Eyes shut, voice warm with sincerity, but the air was filled with a tense note of danger, barely constrained threat… just not towards you.

Somehow, you want to see more.

-

Prodding at Yuta Okkotsu is no easy task.

He’s about the most mild-mannered person you’ve ever met, and half-terrified that someone mistreating him would get on the bad side of the cursed spirit who hangs around him.

But you’re determined, and there’s not a lot that can stop you when you put your mind to it.

Alphas had a personal bubble – just like everyone else – and when another alpha gets into it, it usually sets them off.

You start to invade Yuta’s space; first, in small ways.

Leaning in when you hand him a soda, sitting a touch too close on a bench, lingering whenever one of you pins the other during sparring.

There’s a flush on his darling face, a tightening of his features as you see him catch your scent and react to your proximity before he represses the reaction completely.

But soon enough, that doesn’t phase him at all.

You've gotta hand it to him. That's some real control.

Soon he’s touching your hand when you pass him things, you can lean against him while you sit next to each other and he doesn’t bat an eye.

Neither does that supposedly scary curse of his, for that matter.

You see her, once, on a mission. A curse sneaking up behind you (it wouldn’t have been able to hurt you anyways) and you catch her, the curse Yuta normally keeps so carefully hidden.

Massive. Magnificent.

It’s not something you’d normally say about a curse but Rika comes with a scent all her own, fresh and woodsy pine, pricking at your senses while a gaping maw of sharp teeth closes around some pitiful lesser creature.

The blood splatters, on the floor, on her ‘face’. She has no eyes you can see, but you feel her gaze on you anyways. Heavy in the midst of the silence, until Yuta’s panicked voice rings out, and she disappears completely.

Pine lingers in your senses.

That’s not what Yuta smells like, though.

He smells so little, actually, so heavily repressed that you’re not surprised most people think he’s a beta. But your senses are better than most, and you can detect it.

Faint. Warm. Almost… oily? Like olive oil, maybe, something humble and smooth, but unexpectedly decadent.

Like the scent of a lone burning candle in an old shrine, not quite dusty, but with a book-like scent that came with ink and paper.

It’s hard to detect. You need to get closer to really pin it down.

Yuta’s physical abilities are weak, after all, so it’s easy to make up excuses to spar with him. More and more, since you can tell he’s no longer uncomfortable with you in his space.

One fine winter morning, you catch the opportunity you want.

A tumble on the ground (he was always so afraid of Rika coming out, but she never did when he fought you), a little scuffle that leaves the adorable gentleman alpha flushed and flustered, and you manage to snag his scarf off of him.

In the pocket of his jacket you leave him something in return; a band not quite large enough to be a scarf that you’d used to tie your hair.

It should have plenty of your scent on it, enough to make him sniff the air once or twice before he figured out it was there.

The thought pleases you. Like you can tease him a little bit at some random moment throughout the day, without even being there.

It’s five whole days before Yuta returns it to you.

His face a touch bashful, even though he must have known full well that you’d slipped it into his coat yourself. Eyes downcast, as if afraid to meet yours; Yuta Okkotsu, the special-grade terror.

He doesn’t ever ask for the scarf back.

Not that you remember it. It’s just sitting on your desk. You barely think about it.

It just happens that it still has his scent on it, but that makes sense.

It would have been in contact with his scent glands every day, wrapped around his neck like a collar. Like a warm embrace.

You don’t touch it, so it still smells like him. Warm and welcoming.

He’s really not much of an alpha.

After you spar, he always compliments you, careful to note any potential weaknesses between bits of lavish praise. His shadowed, dark eyes sparkle a touch when he tells you, a warm smile on his lips.

Yuta’s always doing that, complimenting people. You’ve never known him to disparage anyone. Never a bad word for a single person you’d met.

So kind. What kind of alpha is this sweet?

Somewhere deep down, though, you know. A real leader, someone people trust and rely on, a friend who would cross oceans for you, move mountains, if it would help you out even a little.

Sweet boy, like cotton candy. Comforting like a warm candle on a cold winter night.

So bright even thought Yuta looks like the gloomiest boy alive. Sometimes when you think of him your tongue runs over your lips, like you’re hungry for more.

You push him further.

You don’t avoid him when you’re close to your rut. In fact you make a point to be near him, get into his space.

Sure, you’d invaded it plenty now, but with your scent oozing out of you, pheromones heavy in the air screaming breed, breed, breed, and you figure something in Yuta will crack.

You never stop to think about whether or not you want it to.

-

It’s on a nice, sunny day that it happens. The most embarrassing moment of your entire existence.

Pre-rut is a bit brutal but you’re down to tough it out. Sparring with Yuta always helps, anyways.

You’re especially snarky, too, like you get during your rut, eager to taunt, to get more out of him.

“C’mon Yuta, that’s not all you’ve got, right? Ask your curse girlfriend for help, I’ll bet she knows how to lay it out.” Adrenaline fuels your heated banter as you watch Yuta pointedly avert his gaze, “You’re flinching and I’m barely hitting you.”

“I can do it,” He almost grumbles, but you think you see a shadow behind him, or maybe you just imagine it, lurking and eager to jump out, “And she woul- Rika is strong.”

The hormones are bad, though. Getting your body heavy with sweat and panting, moving around, lashing out at him, striking, grappling…

“That’s more like it!”

“You can take this much? Then - I’ll do even more!”

Who the fuck are you kidding. It’s the most fun you’ve had in weeks.

Yuta’s strong, stronger than almost anyone you know, he’s right in front of you, so close you can smell you can touch you get your hands on him and he on you and you’re rolling, rolling through the grass –

Yuta pins you, heavy breaths breezing over you, carrying the warm rich smell of him in your senses.

Sweat dripping down his forehead, mouth wide open, you can almost taste it (taste what?).

His eyes are dark and deep and beautiful and they look down at you like –

He’s looking at you like –

His lips curl upwards into the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen, your heart skips ten beats and you – you just feel so warm –

underneath him – the comforting weight of his body against yours – that delectable smell dripping over you – his arms around you, holding you –

You cough out a noise you think is a laugh. Yuta tilts his head to the side with fondness written all over his face.

“That was a pretty heavy bout – good job!” He beams down at you, voice is full of praise pouring over you like liquid gold, “Are you alright?”

You open your mouth to tell him you are, and to your horror, you realize the noise you make. You’re purring.

Instantly your face is set on fire.

“I.” oh god. What. What the fuck, “I’m…” Your voice breaks in a rumble.

Oh god this is so weird, alphas don’t purr at other alphas, what’s wrong with you – “Yeah! Fine!”

You say it too loudly and it shows. Yuta’s so close to you there’s no way he can’t tell what’s happening.

Even otherwise, your voice is cracking like some kind of hormonal teenage boy and you just.

Evacuate. Evacuate immediately.

Your hands fly up to Yuta’s chest and you try desperately not to notice how surprisingly well-built he is as you shove him up and off you.

He offers no resistance, stepping up and offering you a hand which you ignore in favor of sprinting off, like a guilty person would do.

Seriously? Seriously? This would go down in history as the day your dignity died.  

Where was your pride as an alpha? Where was your – your anything, to be honest.

Why the fuck had you just?? Gone so completely gooey and melty underneath him when he smiled at you like that?

Even thinking back on it heats your face. Then again, the whole thing was super embarrassing, so your face was hot anyways.

It occurs to you, walking back to your room in great shame, that you weren’t actually worried about anyone finding out about this, just that it had happened.

Alphas don’t usually purr unless they’ve just knotted someone and they want them to feel good.

And omegas would typically only purr at close family members or intended mates; a lazy sign of comfort and peace, and very occasionally, a come-hither-I’m-feeling-frisky signal to their alpha.

Whatever conclusion could be made about you purring at Yuta from underneath him… there was no option that wasn’t utterly humiliating.

But you only had to worry about what Yuta would think.

You knew Yuta wouldn’t breathe a word about this. Probably not even if someone held a knife to his throat (not that they could… special grade and all).

…you start to feel kinda bad now, actually.

No matter how you’d poked or prodded, Yuta Okkotsu hadn’t snapped at you.

Unflinching in his kindness. Eager to help always, with a hand or some friendly advice. Protective and powerful, never hesitating to put himself between you and danger.

You’d been inching into his space. Stealing his things. Taunting him during practice.

Honestly, if someone else acted like this to you, you’d call them a pest. You wouldn’t smile at them. Not like that.

Yuta must’ve been some kind of saint in a past life, if nothing you’ve done bothers him at all.

It’s weird. It’s all weird. Alphas aren’t like this, neither of you should be like this.

-

It gets worse. It all gets worse, so much worse.

Your rut is in full swing now, burning through you, searing holes in every ounce of sanity you ever thought you had. Nothing is sacred anymore, nothing is off-limits. There’s no shame left and no restraint.

The most heinous ideas flit through your mind, little flashes, lewd imagery of holes to fuck into and knots to squeeze, the tight press of flesh on flesh and dark eyes and lips that curve so gently upwards.

A scent that flutters just at the edge of your senses like the well-worn pages of familiar book.

The best you can do is stop yourself from crying out. The images get clearer, until there’s no denying what they are.

Yuta, on his hands and knees.

All spread apart.

Above you.

Below.

Smiling gently. Whispering words into your ear.

His lean form, the sleek musculature you know from so many fits of sparring, finally bared for you to feast your eyes. “Do you like it, alpha?”

Yes. Yes yes yes yes. Every fiber of your being cries out. The throbbing between your legs is unbearable.

“Do you want it?”

Never wanted anything more.

“You’re such a good alpha. I’m glad.”

Just the thought of the words, in his voice, draws a moan from your lips.

You want him. Want want want want WANT you NEED him where is he where can you find him? You’re going to hunt him down and –

The last remaining threads of your sanity grant you a burst of intuition.

A detail you’d never really forgotten:

The scarf on your desk. The one you hadn’t touched, hadn’t made smell like you. It should still smell like him.

Wait. Wait. What are you, some omega jerking off to the scent of your fucking crush –

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Crush. Okkotsu.

But you can’t get yourself to think about how that’s wrong, can’t convince yourself to deny anything when a pulsing, throbbing sensation between your legs screams mate mate my mate all mine –

Stumbling, staggering, all the way to the desk. Arm reaching out while you’re bent over and panting and nearly whining in your need.

Fuck. Pathetic, so pathetic.

And then you hold the scarf to your face, clutched in your hand like a lifeline. The scent of it is faint and inexplicably cozy, pure relief flooding through you.

It brings you to your knees. The ache between your legs demands attention and your other hand rushes to meet it, jerking and rubbing against your sexes while you sniffle and tear up.

Ruts suck when you spend them alone but this is better and worse than anything you’d ever experienced.

Bucking up into your hands, breathing in his scent like you can fill him in your lungs, inhale him like a cigarette and finally get rid of the pounding demand in your brain.

Every breath feels shallow, every grind against your hand only seems to make you hotter and hotter.

The ache in your core feels like being tugged around, demanding jerks of painful pleasure that don’t get you there, don’t get you what you need.

It’s all you can do to whimper and nuzzle into his scarf.

The primitive side of you urges you to pull it between your legs leg him take care of you, good mate, good alpha, let him feel you there, but your arm locks in place so you can keep breathing the scent like a lifeline.

When you finally do cum, you’re more exhausted than anything, spurting pitifully out over your hands and knees, knot bulging uselessly against your lower belly.

It leaks, slowly, painfully, as if to give you time to think about what you’ve done.

You decide you’d really rather not. Sliding a drawer open to pull out a toy, another toy, three of them, even – enough to overstimulate yourself to high hell, to keep every thought of Yuta and his scent out of your brain.

A vibrator in any hole you could fit it in, against anything that throbbed or ached. A fleshlight to fuck into, one a size too small just to make it hurt more.

Way less lubricant than you could have used, but somehow, your cunt leaks more than enough for all of it.

All to just barely stop the fantasies of a dark-haired, dark-eyed boy with a smile and a scent like the sun.

Without a doubt it’s the most miserable rut you’ve ever had.

You’re raw, red, and sore by the end of it and all you can feel is barely concealed rage at your own self for putting you through this shit.

You don’t even know if you’re mad that you fucked up, or that you’re crushing this fucking hard on a really nice dude you’ve been antagonizing for weeks.  

As soon as your rut ends, you steal another one of Yuta’s scarves.

You don’t give him anything in return this time.

-

Yuta likes women; this is something he’s known for a while.

It’s not until recently that he’s come to terms with the fact that he exclusively likes alpha women. He has you and Maki to thank for that.

In retrospect, considering his first love was a strong-willed young girl who proposed to him, it should probably have been more obvious.

Lucky for him, Rika also has a taste for alpha women, and she likes you much better than she liked Maki.

To be perfectly honest, it was Rika who liked you first.

The Rika he knew had passed on. The Rika beside him now is a curse that grew alongside him; in the image of his loved one, distorted and massive in all its malevolent glory.

She listened to him, for the most part, but perhaps because of some baser instincts of his – or perhaps some left-over preferences from Rika herself – she treats you with a particular affection.

You offer him a drink, moving just a touch too close to hand it over, and he feels Rika hum in approval.

His eyes glance over you unwillingly, your scent faint in his nose. It’s not as harsh as another alpha’s scent normally would be, either, which should have been his first warning.

Whenever you get close – too close, so much that it has to be on purpose – it’s almost overwhelming, so many emotions fluttering through him that he swears he can hear Rika giggling.

She likes it, too. You’re like fresh soil, like morning dew, the rainfall on a summer’s day.

He can tell, after one day he catches you right before your rut, wrestling with him, pinned underneath him and purring; you like him, too.

And then, he fucks it all up.

“Hey,” He calls you out by name and you turn back, meeting his eyes and walking back up to him.

The immediate response causes something dark and warm to burst in his chest; Rika purrs invisibly in his mind.

You try not to show it but you’re pleased when he calls out to you. He can smell it on you, happy pheromones that let him know you’re pleased he’s asked for you.

Not unlike an omega, and that thought really sets him going.

All this time you spent playing coy. Teasing him then running away, even from your own feelings.

You want him so bad but you’re so nervous, and seeing someone so strong and beautiful be so anxious about your want for him drives him completely and utterly insane.

It’s not like you’re cowardly, like he could be, sometimes.

You’re strong, you always give him a fight when you spar, you take the losses like a champ –

You would take his knot so so well RIKA PLEASE STOP THAT RIGHT NOW.

Now you’re staring at him, blushing like a schoolgirl, waiting for him to speak to you. So cute. So cute.

He’d caught you stealing his scarf again, you never gave any of it back. Are you building a nest? Do you like his scent like he likes yours?

Licking his lips, Yuta asks, “You’re – you’re an alpha, right?”

Oh. Oh, he should not have said that.

The surprise that flits across your face, and then the outrage, they tell him the same thing –

But his body receives a very different message, cock jumping in his pants at the scent.

All those times you’d sparred with him had trained him to get hard when you got in his space like this. Your scent wasn’t a threat, but a delicacy, and in his chest a rumble stuttered along with Rika.

“What the fuck are you trying to say, Okkotsu?”

Oh. Family name. You were really mad.

He could tell his face had already fallen by how you looked torn between pity and anger.

An apology lurched to stutter out through his lips, but instead –

Instead –

On the tip of his tongue, the edge of his senses –

“Are you… wet?” It sounds like a question, but that’s sheer politeness on his part.

He can smell it on betas as well as omegas, so it made sense that he could smell it on a female alpha, too.

Your face is hot, bright red, and so, so darling.

He can tell Rika is as thrilled to see it as he is, that she longs to reach out with one of her massive claws and clutch around your shapely waist, hold you in place for him to –

“What the fuck? Okkotsu?!”

Oh no. No no no no no no no. No! “Rika! Rika, don’t hurt her!”

She’s not hurting you. She would never hurt you.

This is probably worse.

“Hurt me? Fucking – ff – hng,” Yuta can’t stop the lurch in his gut, the wave of pure arousal that washes over him at the sound you make, “Get her off me, Okkotsu, you – ”

Your face is so red. Your scent. Your scent. It’s perfuse, a strong, tangy thing, delicious, he’d grown addicted to it and wasn’t that your fault?

Didn’t you do this to him, on purpose? Don’t you want him like this?

Slipping him little tastes here and there, shoving it in his face all the time.

Passing him a sample while you sneakily stole his scarf, hoarding his scent like a needy little omega?

Teasing him, getting in his face while you were in rut?

Purring at him when he pinned you underneath him?

Flushing when he called out to you, looking back, running up to him eagerly like an obedient, darling thing?

Yuta thought he liked alpha women, and he does.

But it looks like he especially likes alpha women who go all soft and squishy for him without saying as much, squirming and blustering and making faces like they’d like to eat him as soon as they thought he wasn’t looking.

“Don’t be upset.” His hands roam down to your sides. He doesn’t miss how you jerk at the contact. “I asked so I could help. Are you wet?” He says your name, a dark fire in his eyes.

You watch his tongue dark between his lips. Bite back a whimper. “Help me how? What’s – what’s she doing?”

“Helping me help you.” If you don’t want to tell, he’ll just check for himself.

His hands are cold, though, and you can’t stop the high gasp that escapes you when his hands dig under your waistband.

He murmurs a soft apology and the curse behind you chitters, chilled claws carefully wrapped around your torso.

Yuta drags your shorts and panties down in one motion, cooing softly at you when you shriek, one hand caressing your shoulder while Rika purrs, pressing herself up against your back.

Filling your senses with pine and Yuta’s oil, a scent like fire that burns to behold.

Warms you like sunlight.

“Yuta-” Even you weren’t sure what you were going to say, but his fingers between your legs send your brain for a complete loop. “I – what are you – we’re in – ”

“I put up a veil,” Yuta says, like (he knows) that was your only real objection.

Or maybe he’s lying. Yuta could tell you he was wearing Ryomen Sukuna’s underwear and you’d believe him, as long as he looked at you like that.

The smile you love so much is hungry, now, with those eyes dark with desire, with a curse clawing at you tenderly, like she just can’t let you go for even a second. Churning pleased little noises with every press and flex of her massive fingers around you.

Fingers darting to spread open your folds, even as you squirm. Bared in broad daylight with Yuta right in front of you.

Circling your hole while he looks you in the eyes, pressed close enough to hear you whine.

“I knew you were wet,” He murmurs, in a soft voice that sends liquid heat dripping down your legs, “Could smell it.”

Yuta leans in. He’s so pretty, so handsome, such a dark and darling thing with those heavy, soulful eyes.

He’s so close that when he whispers your name, you feel it on your lips. “You smell so good.”

He didn’t sound this hot even in your daydreams. He’s so close. So close. His breath ghosts over you like a curse hanging on your shoulder.

Your mouth falls open. Watering, like your cunt. Desperate for a taste.

And maybe you’re still an alpha after all, because finally, finally, you dive in and take what you want.

He tastes as rich on your lips as he’s smelled, soft and oiled and coating your senses. Blotting out everything until all you know is him.

Him, teasing over your clit with careful strokes. Growling into the kiss like he’s warning you not to pull back, Rika pressing you forward like you’re two dolls she can’t wait to smash together.

Arms dart out to his shoulders to steady yourself as he dips his fingertips into your entrance. Generous, broad strokes over your folds he spreads your arousal all over, returning to rub at your clit as he pulls away.

It’s good. So good. The oncoming pleasure builds and builds slowly with his ministrations, pooling heavily in your lower half. The urge to buck into it overtakes you, writhing for more friction as sparks begin to fly against your clit, closer, closer –

And then it’s you who can’t look away, locked in place under his gaze. “You’re going to cum for me? Do you want to?”

God it’s so fucking close, tears blot your eyes as you jerk into his fingers, and Yuta doesn’t even try to deny you.

He smiles at you, carefree. He already has his prey in front of him, unable to escape, uninterested in even trying.

You give him a feverish nod. “Will you tell me so? I want to hear you.”

Just a little faster, just a little more, more, “More please, please, make me cum –”

An exhale of a breath you hadn’t known he was holding, diving in towards your neck, nuzzling against your scent. Burying your face in his shoulder where his own was strongest.

It’s that breath that puts you over the edge, fast strokes of his fingers finally igniting the heavy pleasure pent up in your lower belly, the scent of him pouring over you.

You cum with a cry, mouthing at his neck just to soothe yourself, to taste him.

You feel the wetness of his tongue on your own scent glands. Hot. Drooling. He suckles at your taste, soft lips pressed to bare, vulnerable skin, and you let your head roll to the side to give him more.

All you can feel now is warmth. Warmth and Yuta’s familiar scent that makes your insides twist, the aftershocks still shuddering through you, twitching in his hold like some pitiful creature.

Every muscle in your body relaxes, and it’s only Rika’s grasp on you keeping you up. Fortunately, she’s strong. So strong.

Her head nestles into your shoulder, scenting you. Sweet, chilling pine on your sweaty skin. She purrs you through the bliss, cool against your body caught against Yuta’s own.

There’s a hilariously awkward moment where the two of you start catching your breath. Yuta looks flushed, handsome, as lovely as ever.

Still, his eyes find yours. He smiles. He’s always smiling at you, you’ve started to realize.

The thought makes you happy.

You like it. You like it a lot. Like him.

He’s even better than the fantasies.

“I’m going into rut,” Yuta says. “Because of… this.”

You swallow. “Oh. Okay.”

It’s hard to think too much about it, when the heat in your core is still dissipating, face burning up while you have yet to regain control of your limps

And between the two of you, Yuta must be the real alpha, because he’s the one who goes and just says it already.

“Will you spend it with me?”

“Your… your rut?”

“Yes. I want you to spend it with me.” He’s so close. You can feel the heat of his breath between you. "If you want."

A pause. You try, oh lord, do you try, to gather your thoughts for just one moment. “Are you going to try and mark me?”

“Can I?” His eyes are too light, too eager, the words too quick to fall from his lips.

Alphas don’t ask for permission like puppies begging for treats. But Yuta, your Yuta, he’s already pleading with his eyes.

“Maybe you should be more worried about me marking you.”

“Would you?” Barely contained excitement oozes from him, from his pheromones to his bright expression.

You think you hear Rika giggle behind you. Pleased. Razor teeth ghosting over your ear in a little kiss, as if to urge you forth.

It’s working. If you fuck this boy, you’re gonna bite him.

You’re going to sink your teeth into him the first chance you get, make him yours yours all yours forever and have him every way he can bend, mark him up until he fucks you back into submission.

You’ll fuck him and fuck his curse girlfriend, too.

But it would be weird to just say it, right?

“Maybe.”

He laughs at that.

Oh. Yuta’s always been pretty good at reading between the lines, hasn’t he?

Or, you think as he leans in for a kiss, forehead pressed to yours – maybe he was just good at reading you.

[mossspond]

BAM (Big Moth Moment)

[ravenpuffheadcanons]

It is raining heavily. It is cold. I have a warm blanket. I have winter pyjamas on. I have a hot cup of (decaf, green) tea and a very good book. Autumn is finally here. This is bliss.

[chxrryhansen]

౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Cherry’s Cevans One Shot Rec List

here you will find all of my favourite chris evans + characters fanfiction recommendations, i have many more to add and will continue to update this list. Please don’t forget to reblog these amazing writers fics as they deserve so much love!💘💘

Walk On The Wild Side - @hansensgirl

you just wanted to go for a stroll down the road—but he wants you to take a walk on the wild side. (Dark!Chris Evans)

You Better Not Pout, Better Not Cry - @hansensgirl

they know if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake. (Dark!Multi character) - i would add every single one of her fics to this list if i could💘

Sinful Devotion - @evansbby

Lloyd promises to let you go, but he demands a depraved repayment. (In other words, Lloyd pops your cherry)- my favourite writer in the whole universe💘

Smothered With Bliss - @whereireid

Is it hard being married to the most influential man in America? You most certainly think it is. — Steve Rogers: Captain America, the heart of his nation, the soul of his country. After returning home from a particularly bad day at work, Steve finally snaps, deciding you need re-educating on how to be the perfect housewife.

The Night - @misshoneybee

Working as the Barber family's nanny is a piece of cake, but what happens when the dad you've been tip-toeing around all year comes home late one night to find you asleep in his bed, wearing his favorite sweater?

Little Miss Red - @anika-ann

Ransom’s looking for a good time tonight, when you walk through the door, he knows he’ll get it. And you? Oh you’ll get it too. He's going to make sure of it.

Unholy Errand - @buckets-and-trees

You're caught in the crosshairs when a hit goes out for your boss. (Dark!Lloyd Hansen + Dark! God The Bounty Hunter + Ransom Drysdale)

What A Shirt Can Tell - @justalonelyslytherin

5+2 times Colin asked 'Is that my shirt?' plus the one time he got asked it. Aka a look through the journey of Colin and his girl, each in which his shirts play an important role.

Start Again - @wkemeup

A chemical spill, uncontrollable desires rushed to the surface, an unbridled need, and the consequences in the aftermath (Steve Rogers)

Daddy’s Little Pet - @sinner-as-saint

You and Steve are the epitome of ‘opposites attract’. He is the American hero, a super soldier who is known for his bravery, and righteousness and for being the one leading the Avengers. You, on the other hand, are a well-known fashion designer in the city. Creator and owner of your own brand, and elite boutique. At first glance, it doesn’t seem like you and Steve would be compatible. But you surprisingly are. And behind closed doors, in secrecy – you two are each other’s solace, each other’s definition of home. He’s your strong, loving and caring man. And you, his lovely, little pet whom he adores more than life itself.

Good Girls And Skype Calls - @youre-deadangel

chris gives you a treat for behaving.

Afternoon Delight - @christowhore

you're steve's live-in housekeeper and find your boss and his friends having a bbq on a heatwave stricken afternoon. they invite you to join them and show you all the pleasurable ways to cool down from the sun. (SoftDark!Steve Rogers + Sam Wilson + Bucky Barnes)

Got You - @hispeculiartreasure

The two of you had grown close over the last year; first as teammates, then as friends. You had been distant at the start, just as he had. Slowly, agonizingly - blood, sweat, and tears were definitely involved - walls were dismantled. A current of trust ran between you, one which caught Steve by surprise. As dense as he could be about matters of the heart, suspicions of his blossoming romantic feelings being mutual had proven true with a simple kiss. (Sex Pollen, Steve Rogers)

Golden Boy - @bucksfucks

you’ve always called steve the golden boy, but he snaps one night and decides to show you he’s anything but. (Roommate!Steve Rogers)

It Must Be That Old Evil Spirit - @vonalyn

There’s something unsettling about his demeanor but you can’t quite put your finger on it. As if there’s something hiding beneath the surface just waiting to pry its way out of the tight shirt across his broad frame and tear your throat out. Maybe it’s your general unease around others when you’re traveling alone, or maybe it’s just him.  (Jack-O-Lantern!Ari Levinson)

Stupid Kitty - @onsunnyside

Your father wrongfully entrusted Lloyd to care for you—it’s too bad he’ll never get you back. (Lloyd Hansen x Cat-Hybrid!Reader)

Manners- Or Lack Of Them - @rogerswifesblog

Ransom wants you, the sweet girl at the bar…but you’re not what he expected you to be. (Sub!Ransom Drysdale + Mommy!Reader)

Shadow Boxer - @mypoisonedvine

you’re stuck in the same destructive cycle with ransom, but maybe you don’t want to get out of it. (Angst + Smut, Ransom Drysdale)

It’s Not A Challenge - @gagmebucky

His jaw ticks. “It’s not a challenge, doll,” he bites out. “It’s a warning. If I tried to get inside you, I’d split you in half in the process.” His eyes flicker down, and your nipples are pebbles against the thin, easily-rippable fabric—you’re testing him, and he’s failing. “Goddamn it,” he hisses underneath his breath. “That - that shouldn’t turn you on.” Bristling, he drops his hand and pedals backward—he’s on his last thread, and it’s his sole chance to make a clear-headed decision. (Boxer!Steve Rogers)

Pretty Princess - @frostironfudge

Andy Barber gets jealous when he presumes you shared a room with one of his associates.

Over And Over - @frostironfudge

Ari Levinson is a possessive man, he'll punish you till you apologise.

Such A Good Boy - @lilacevans

You and Ari attend a business meeting, and at the beginning the other boss you're meeting with just assumes that Ari is the one in charge; however, that's not the case. While you look dainty, angelic, like you couldn't even hurt a fly, you're the one who runs the family and will not hesitate to fuck up anyone who stands in your way. (Puppy!Ari Levinson) - one of my favourite fics EVER.💘

Breathe - @buckyownsmylife

The one where the new co-star is obsessed with the idea of making Chris hers, but he makes sure to show her you’re the only one for him.

Justified - @dbnightingale24

Ransom has always been the center of your world you’ve always been the center of his. However, when he can’t change his ways and you’re tired of the heartbreak, is it really so bad if you think it’s best to walk away? Ransom thinks so. - one of the sweetest most talented writers i have ever met💘

My, My, My - @1800jjbarnes

Stevie couldn't help it. Every time he saw you, he felt himself grow heavy in his slacks. You were everything he needed. And he needed you now.

All The Time - @geminixevans-stan

He is one of the most powerful men on earth but there’s more worse than him (Dark!Lloyd Hansen + Dark!Nick Fowler)

Snack - @katherineswritingsblog

he just wants his snack- which is you.

Watchful Eyes - @espinosaurusrexex

When your best friend gets you a new job, cleaning the apartment of the most successful man in New York City, you don't hesitate to accept. The pay is more than good, and the man himself is better than any eye candy you have ever seen. Unbeknownst to you, you've caught his attention just as much. Steve can't keep his mind off you, so much so, that he drives everyone around him insane with his grumpiness when you aren't around. It seems like he has to take matters into his own hands when he realizes, you're too shy to take things further yourself. (CEO!Steve Rogers)

Cherry On Top - @dcllbows

you’ve found your favorite way to help your daddy with his grownup work. (Ddlg, Daddy!Andy Barber)

Voracious - @arilevinsons

The first time he set eyes on you; you were his sudden infatuation. (DarkProfessor!Ari Levinson)

Best Friend’s Dad - @imyourbratzdoll

you've been pining over your best friend's dad and decide to take your chance, knowing he's out and your best friend is asleep, you be a little bit naughty and touch yourself on his bed, not knowing he's coming home early.

The Breeding Ground - @fl0werfae

To others, Ari’s house was a breeding ground for him and his omega, but to him it was just fulfilling her purpose of carrying his pups. (Alpha!Ari Levinson)

My Sweet Pea - @mavsstar

Mr. Levinson lives right next door to you, the sweet, innocent college girl. Little do you know that you're Mr. Levinson's favorite neighbor. He's there every chance you need the slightest of help, maybe a little too much. (Trailer Park Au)

Like A Movie Scene In The Sweetest Dream - @worksby-d

Johnny’s always been on your “no” list, but you've finally agreed to work with him. (Pornstar!Johnny Storm)

Easy As Pie - @navybrat817

You bake pies for Andy, but you're still his favorite treat.

[whatwooshkai]

splish splosh has 23 been done yet for the ask game? :3

(also I swear to Primus HEATWAVE STOP DOING THAT UR GONNA GIVE EVERYONE A SPARK/HEART ATTACK-)

"This song sucks," Heatwave snaps, giving his engine an annoyed rumble.

"This is the lesser of all evils," Kade argues back, waving a hand. "Radio's shit right now."

"Fine," Heatwave growls, and suddenly the dial starts spinning, stations flipping rapidly. "If Earth radio is so shit, I'm putting on my radio."

There's a burst of static, a beat of silence, then a voice fills the cab, speaking a language Kade has only ever heard snatches of.

"Is he speaking Cybertronian?"

"NeoCybex," Heatwave corrects automatically. "Common. We have more than one language, you know."

Kade shakes his head. "Okay. Whatever. Is Cybertron, like, a gazillion light years away? How the fuck are you getting this station?"

Heatwave's head on the monitor gives a little tilt, and the cab rumbles, as if he's shrugging. "You can always call in to Truck Norris' show. I don't question it."

"Wait. Wait. Back the fuck up." Kade grips the wheel and leans forward. "'Truck Norris?'"

"Yeah," Heatwave says. "That's the host's name. What about it?"

"I-" Kade doesn't know what to say. How is he possibly supposed to explain to Heatwave that his strange radio host who apparently has a frequency that is strong enough to reach Earth has a name that's basically a stupid pun of a famous human. How. "I feel like you're not hearing yourself."

"Wait. Shut the fuck up," Heatwave snaps, and Truck Norris seems to be finishing off a sentence. Kade does as asked, staying silent as fucking Truck Norris speaks again, and then a familiar voice speaks over the radio, his voice a mix of soft clicks and purrs and whirrs, with the cadence of a question.

No fucking way.

But it's over just as fast as it happened, and Truck Norris' voice is back, a soft click coming through signalling the end of the call in.

"Okay, let me get this straight," Kade demands. "You not only can get this radio station from a billion-jillion light years away, you can also call in?!"

"Yeah," Heatwave says, his voice heavily accented for a second. He resets his voice box, and the accent is gone in the next sentence. "He's always taking callers."

"I feel like you're not understanding how freaky this is," Kade stresses, tapping a nervous beat on the wheel. "I'm not science guy, but this shouldn't be possible at all-"

"Shut up," Heatwave snarls, and Kade shuts up, as the volume dial spins and suddenly sound is flooding through the speakers.

It's unlike anything Kade has ever heard before. The closest thing he can relate it to is experimental rock, but even that's a stretch.

It sounds like heavy machinery and it sounds soft and loud at the same time, and there must be someone singing, a powerful, echoey, a mechanical voice holding and hitting notes most singers could only dream of.

And it's... not bad. In fact, Kade kind of likes it.

Heatwave's head on the monitor is bobbing along softly, as if doing it unconsciously.

They're quiet for a while once it's over, listening to Truck Norris talk and another bot call in, before Kade finally asks: "Was that a song?"

"Yeah," Heatwave says quietly, but there's a smile in his voice. "My favorite, actually. Haven't heard it in a while." The beginning of the song plays a bit, before suddenly being cut off. "And I have it recorded now." He's quiet for another moment, before asking, "What'd you think?"

Aw. That's... oddly vulnerable, coming from Heatwave. So Kade is honest. "I liked it," he says. "And I think I'd like to hear more."

Heatwave's engine gives a delighted purr.

------------------------

"What's this?"

Kade's head snaps over to the CD Haley is studying. "Oh, that?" he says smoothly, holding out a hand, which she places it into. A clear jewel case and a CD with "Heatwave" scrawled on it in sharpie. "I think it's a band," he lies easily. "Found it in a thrift store. I searched them up but there's nothing, so they must be really underground. It's this weird, like, experimental metal rock. Want to listen?"

"Sure!"

It's actually a CD of Heatwave's favorite Cybertronian songs. Boulder and Graham took the recordings and burned them onto a CD for him, and they're working on ones for the others. Still, no one has questioned Truck Norris yet.

Kade's actually taken quite a liking to Cybertronian music. It's kind of pretty, in its own way. And Cody absolutely loves it. Human vocal chords are not built for the proper pronunciation of NeoCybex "words", but that doesn't mean he's not going to try.

The CD loads and the first song begins to play. Haley looks taken aback for a second, before leaning forward, falling into the rhythm immediately.

It makes it a little hard for Kade to keep his eyes on the road.

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Heat

Pairings: Kisaki x reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub!Kisaki, teasing, frenemies to lovers?

Genre/Format: Smut; Oneshot

Author's Note: Shy/inexperienced sub Kisaki has a hold of my brain tbh. I want to fluster him into oblivion 💛

Please check my blog title to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!

You and your roommate, Kisaki, are stuck inside trying to stay cool during a heatwave. While you do tease and argue with him from time to time, you also have certain... other feelings for him... and those feelings finally reach a boiling point

If the temperature goes up any higher, you fear you may just melt into a puddle right here on the floor... The weather called for temps so bad that going outside was discouraged unless it was an emergency. So, here you were. Sitting on your living room floor with Kisaki, basking in the small relief of a standing fan

You couldn't help but glance over at him every now and then. Taking in the rare appearance of him in loose fitting clothing. Perhaps the heat was causing those certain thoughts you had about him to surface right now? The way he was sitting, with his head tilted back a bit, legs spread and leaning back on his hands... What if you crawled over there and started kissing his neck. What if you just, started touching him right now. Would he melt into your touches and moan for you, like a good boy?

“And just what are you staring at?” The sudden voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Nothing” You replied, unaware that you had spaced out whilst staring at him

He glared at you. “Is there a problem?”

“Nope.” You said casually, as those thoughts started to flood your mind again. Fuck, you really wanted him right now. You were finding it hard to sit still, the urge to just pounce onto him building up quickly. What if you just...

“Then stop staring at me, dammit” He snapped, averting his gaze

“Kisaki...”

“Wha- Ah!” His question getting cut off by you straddling him and pinning him to the floor.

“H-hey! What are-” He gasped, struggling against your grip. But it was no use, you were considerably stronger than him, able to pin both wrists above his head with only one hand. His breath hitched when your other hand slid under his shirt and began caressing his body

“Sorry, I just...” You paused, leaning down towards his neck. “This heat must be getting to me, ya know?”

Kisaki bit his lip trying to suppress little moans while your mouth explored his neck. Biting and sucking several marks onto his skin, while your hand groped at his chest, hips, and anything else that you could grasp

“You like this, huh?” You said, trailing kisses along his jawline. You released your grip on his wrists and ran your hand through his pretty blonde hair. Kisaki's breath came out in hot little puffs, his cheeks flushed and skin burning up

“Wanna keep going?” You asked, cupping his cheek in your hand and feeling how hot his skin had become

Kisaki nodded in response. You smiled then leaned down to kiss his lips, feeling his arms hesitantly reach up to wrap around your neck. Your own hands snaking down the front of his shorts and eliciting a gasp as you begin stroking him through his underwear

Maybe this weekend wouldn't be that bad after all...

[ilguna]

☼ long days (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; you weren't sure how the new members of the crew were going to fit in, until one of them saves you.

warnings; swearing, sunstroke.

wc; 4.7k

notes; fisherman au!

–

“It looks like we’ve got a heatwave on our hands!” The Lead Peacekeeper shouts. He’s standing on a box to allow everyone to see him better. There’s a clipboard in one of his gloved hands, a pen in the other. “We were not approved to send everyone home, which means you all must work through it.”

The sun is barely rising, and it already feels like your skin has melted from your body and might slide off onto the ground any minute now. If it’s this bad, you don’t want to know what the temperature is going to be around peak times. 

“We suggest you drink lots of water and take breaks frequently in the shade to avoid sunstroke. We will provide one case of water to each crew, ration it wisely to last you the day.” He continues. What he’s saying really is a joke. There’s no shade on your boats unless you go under the deck, and a case of water will only mean two bottles per person, if you’re lucky. 

“Please, make yourself familiar with the following symptoms: high body temperature, red and hot skin with no sweat, rapid pulse, vomiting or nausea, and confusion as well as dizziness. If you do not feel well, then take a break. That is an order, not a suggestion. 

“We can not afford to send out any rescue boats for those who may pass out today. In the case of your fellow crewmate fainting, move them to the shade, pour cold water along the face and neck, and provide cold water for them to drink. If they seem like they’re in no state to continue to work, then advise them to stay off shift for the rest of the day.”

He sighs. “We’re still aiming to hit the regular quota despite the heat.” He presses his lips together, showing you that he’s not happy with this decision, either. There are times when you hate his guts because he’s a hardass and he makes it impossible to force a smile. Then there’s days like today, where you’re able to tolerate him because he knows that you’re human, and not machines. “We will continue to run on larger crews and fewer boats.”

There are several hands that shoot into the air, waiting to ask a question. The best part about the Lead—his name’s Scout—is that he makes time in the morning to have meetings like this for everyone to air their concerns. He hears you, and most of the time he decides to fulfill the reasonable requests.

He tilts his head, pointing to someone in the crowd. They lower their hand, “If we run with larger crews, we run a higher risk of sunstroke because of the amount of bodies on the boat. We weren’t approved for smaller crews just for the time being?”

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t able to ask.” He shakes his head. “The Mayor didn’t allow me to appeal to him. We were informed we were coming upon a heatwave last week, and as you know, he made the decision to run on fewer boats temporarily just recently, because of budget cuts—”

A few people scoff, not bothering to hide their distaste, or the fact that they know the truth, just like everyone else does. The Mayor cut the boats from twenty to ten because he wants a bigger payout on his end. He doesn’t care that it forces the rest of you to suffer.

Honestly, you’d think that more people on a boat would be better because there’s more hands. The problem is that means that there’s more bodies. No matter how hard you try, people get in the way. And it's worse for your crew in particular because you guys are already one of the bigger groups, a bullet you chose to bite because you weren’t about to start an argument with the nineteen other boats that could afford to take on more people.

Despite this, Scout had chosen your crew to take on four more people, since you’re used to accommodating a large party. While the other nine get to take on two or three people. It’s unfair, but if you argue, then they could decide to pull you off permanently to ‘fix’ the problem.

Scout looks into the crowd, “It was my full intention to ask to reduce the amount of people on boats. He would not entertain my presence. Therefore, we will work under the order that was implemented earlier this week.”

A hand shoots in the air, and they begin speaking without being called on, “Don’t you have the authority to overrule his decisions for the sake of the majority?”

“I can’t.” He tells her, “That only concerns safety.”

“So you admit that it’s not a safety issue?” Someone else shouts.

One of the people in the front raise their hand. He points at them, “What happens when almost an entire crew passes out? Will we bring the boat back or are we going to be forced to continue working for the quota?”

Scout’s face twists, “Enough. I understand your frustration, even if you don’t think I do. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have you out here in the first place. I’d send you home and have you come back when the weather’s returned to normal. To answer your question, I do believe it’s a safety issue, the Mayor wouldn’t agree with me, and that’s where the issue arises. And in the emergency of a whole crew passing out, I would hope that you’d come back to the dock and not continue to work yourselves.

“Any other questions, ladies and gentlemen?” He pauses, and when there are no hands, he nods. “We will run with the crews that we have had for the past couple of days. Let’s get everyone loaded and checked, I want boats leaving in thirty minutes!”

The crowd begins moving forward, heading in the direction of the docks. You don’t go with them right away, instead you head over to the stalls where the boat vendors like to sit. You know full well that your crew is going to go through the District-provided water in the span of a couple hours. You have a long day ahead of you.

Heath sits up from where he’s sitting at his stall. If there’s anyone that you rely on the most to help you, it’s him. “Hello miss (Y/n), what can I do for you today?”

“Water.” You say, reaching for your wallet, “How much for a case?”

He blinks, “You do realize that they provide that for you?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, “Yes, and I’ve got ten other people working with me, that’s four more than normal.” You raise an eyebrow, “How long do you think a case of water’s going to last between the eleven of us?”

He sucks in air between his teeth, making a hissing sound, “I’ll sell you three for seven.”

“Bulk price.” You say, pulling out the cash, “How much more for a cooler and ice?”

He shakes his head, “I can’t provide a cooler, and ice won’t make it very long in the weather they’re predicting.”

“Who says no cooler?” You watch him, “Scout?”

He presses his lips together, nodding. “I’m sorry, (Y/n), but unless he appealed it, I can’t.”

You look behind you to see Scout, where he’s standing in a half-circle of people that must be asking him questions. It’s not too many people, it should be a quick conversation. When you turn to face Heath, you lean forward, “Will you hold onto the water?” 

“Yes, of course.” He nods, and then turns around to stack three cases of water on top of one another. He writes ‘SOLD’ across the top one in bold, black marker.

“Thank you.” You begin to walk away. The moment you turn around, you can see that you weren’t the only one to think of this idea, there’s a line that’s formed behind you. It’ll be a matter of time before the water’s gone.

You join the circle of people that stand before Scout, but none of them are saying anything. He looks up from his clipboard briefly, “If any of you are here to demand a smaller crew, you can leave.”

A few people walk away, but not everyone. You wait for someone to say something, anything. When no one speaks, you clear your throat, catching his attention. “What can I do to get a cooler and ice on my boat?”

“Your boat?” He asks with raised eyebrows.

“The boat.” You correct. “If it’s as hot as they’re all saying, we do need cold water. We can’t do that without a cooler and ice. I was told that the cooler can’t go on boats.”

“It’s to prevent stealing.” He tells you, “People would catch fish with our equipment, and hide them in the coolers that were supposed to be used to keep their lunch cold. I made it a rule a few years back. It’s too much paperwork.”

“So what can I do?”

“Nothing.” He tells you, face screwing. “Who else has a question?”

You shake your head, refusing to let him move on to someone else, “If you made the rule, then that means you can sign off on exceptions.”

His eyes land on you, no longer tolerant, “You should get onto the boat now, miss.”

“Can I take full responsibility of any fish that get stolen?” You ask, not budging, “Please? I’m just trying to avoid any of us getting sick. Doesn’t that require paperwork, too?”

Scout narrows his eyes, clearly not happy with your persistence despite being threatened. It isn’t the first time either of you have had a conversation like this. It’s why you know you can push his limit without being suspended. You’re fairly certain that he even knows your name, but refusing to show any signs of acknowledgement. 

He sighs, “What will the cooler be used for?”

“Four cases of water and a bag of ice to keep the water cold.” You say, “We will empty the cooler when it’s done being used, and I’ll show it to you personally when the shift’s over.” 

“Fine.” He prepares the pen in his hand, “What boat are you assigned to?”

“Seven.”

He goes down the paper to find the boat, flipping the page over the top when he can’t find you. He reads for a moment, and then nods. “I see, you’re running with eleven people. That would make more sense.” He looks at you. “I’ll write it in the notes, inform the peacekeepers as you get onto the docks that I’ve given you special permission and to come see me. I expect to hear from you tonight.”

“Thank you, sir.” You smile, backing away.

You hurry back to Heath’s stall. He shifts his attention to you the moment you’re close enough, putting the next person in line on hold.

“Let me find you someone to help you carry them.”

You grin, “I got approved.”

“Really?” He smiles, too, “For everyone or just you?”

“Just me, Heath.”

“I’ll pack it up for you.” He turns around.

He’s careful with the way he loads the cooler, which is thankfully on wheels. He places all three cases of water inside, and two bags of ice. He doesn’t empty the bags inside, telling you to do that on your own time. You pay him what you owe, before beginning to drag it through the dirt and rocks to bring to the boat.

The second you get to the dock that holds boats seven and eight, you’re stopped by two peacekeepers. They take attendance to make sure everyone’s shown up to their shift, and make sure that no one leaves once they’re on the boat.

“You can’t take that up to the boat.” The first one tells you.

“I got permission from Scout, he told me to send one of you to him when I got here.” You stop, “I’ll wait.”

The second one walks away, going in the direction you just came.

“Name?” The first one asks.

“(Y/n) (L/n), boat seven.”

He makes a noise, it sounds like a scoff, “So you think because you run a larger crew that you deserve special privileges?”

“For the record, I asked permission.” You sit on top of the cooler, crossing your legs.

You watch as eight’s crew come up to the dock, get their name checked, and go to the boat. It doesn’t take long before the second peacekeeper’s back, “Let her pass.”

“Finally.” You breathe, starting your way down the dock. You’d thank him, if he weren’t such a dick. You steer the cooler off to the left to drag up the cargo ramp.

“You need help with that?” Atlas asks, he’s hanging over the side of the boat to watch you. You’ve been working with him since you signed up when you turned eighteen. You two started as regular friends, but as time’s gone on, you two are more like siblings than friends with the way you act.

“Nope, I drug it this far, might as well be the one to get it on the boat.” You grin back at him.

The moment you're on, it’s like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You receive a few looks, especially from the four new people that still haven’t gotten used to the original crew yet. You’ve all done your part to try and make them feel welcome, but sometimes change is hard to accept.

You know how to work with your original crew. You read their actions without asking a single question. You can tell what they need just by the way they look at you. You can’t imagine how difficult it is for the new people, trying to learn your behavior, probably feeling like they’re being shut out.

It’s not intentional. You try to have conversations with them—they’ll try for the first few minutes, but you can tell when they’re irritated. Which in turn makes you a little annoyed. How can you expect to get to know them and their mannerisms the same way when they won’t even give you a chance? It’s exhausting.

“A cooler? I thought they banned those a few years back.” River says, arm’s crossed over his chest.

“What’s inside, (Y/n)?” 

You pop the open open, revealing the bags of ice. The crew presses forward, watching as you push the ice to the side, revealing the water. “Three cases—four if you count the one they gave us.”

“How’d you manage that?” The voice comes from the back. You look up to see who it is, and you find that it’s one of the guys that came from boat fourteen. 

His name’s Finnick, bronze hair and green eyes. He’s one of the types that tan instead of burn. He’s also quiet, which means you’ve only spoken to him a few times in passing, mostly information.

“I bought them from Heath.” You shut the lid on the cooler, pressing down to make sure it’s shut tight. “The cooler, the ice, the water. It’s for everyone, of course. I don’t want anyone passing out in the heat.”

“Nice of you.” Poppy smiles.

“I try.” You smile, “If anyone thinks of smuggling fish back through this, I’ll kill you. We’re getting inspected at the end of the day, and if we’re caught, it’s my neck.”

Everyone moves away to go stand or sit on the boat to wait before the boat heads out into the water. You drag the cooler to the one shaded part of the boat, which happens to be a small patch that falls on the one block in the ground that’s built for coolers. You use the corner of your shirt to lift the metal lid, because you’ve given yourself burns before from the temperature.

Atlas comes over to help you lower the cooler into the floor. You open the lid, and the two of you work together to get the fourth case of water to fit, as well as the two bags of opened ice. It takes some adjustment, but sure enough, most of the bottles should be cold by the time you need to grab them. You slam the metal lid down when you’re done.

“I thought I told you to stop spending money on us.” Atlas gives you a look.

“We’re going to get irritable from the heat, moron. And the chances of a few of us getting sick are higher than you think.” You cross your arms, watching the people on boat eight move around to prepare for departure. “We can’t hide from the sun, unless we go below deck, and that’s where we keep the fish.” You meet his eyes, “I want to keep the arguments close to zero.”

—

“Feye, move that rope.” You tell her, motioning to Finnick’s foot.

You turn back to the railing, stepping onto the ledge to lean over the side of the boat to reach for the cage. Atlas is standing on the other side, he’s already secured his handle, and he’s waiting for you to get your hand looped in so that you two can properly pull it in from each side.

From there, all you’ll have to do is motion to Bodhi, who’s sitting in the machinery, and he’ll pull the lever that’ll pull up the cage of fish. 

There’s an unsettling feeling in your chest, you briefly look over your shoulder, and find that Feye hasn’t done what you asked. Your heart drops from your chest into your stomach, as you let go of the handle and fly down the step to get to Finnick in time.

You manage to grab a hold of his upper arm, yanking him toward you. His planted feet budge, making him stumble in your direction. His foot is clear from the looped rope that was snaked on the ground. A second later, that same loop has gone rigid because the pair on the other side have thrown their cage back over. 

Finnick almost just lost his leg.

“Sorry.” You let go of him, letting out a breath, “Fuck.”

“Thank you.” He murmurs, waiting for you to look him in the eye, before he moves on. He goes right back to what he was doing before with checking the fish to see which ones should be sent back into the water.

You turn back to the side of the boat, shaking your head.

“Ready now?” Atlas asks.

“Yes.” You step on the ledge again, leaning over the side. You get a good hand on the loop, and motion for Bodhi to pull his lever.

Usually, the machine should be able to lift this weight by itself. Except, the first ten boats that were provided to District Four are the ones that have been in use the longest. They’ve gotten worn down, which means that they’re slow and weak. You wish that they’d retire the old boats and invest in the newer ones.

They haven’t yet, because the amount of fuel that pours into the new boats is almost five times what you use now. It’s cheaper to continue to run on the boats that are barely holding on right now. It’s the same reason why the Mayor has cut the boats, they’re more expensive than what he’s used to. 

If he was smart, then he’d realize that those boats can carry more than the old ones.

Atlas counts back from three to when you two haul together. You grit your teeth as you pull, trying to give as big of a boost as possible. The moment that it starts building momentum, you and Atlas let go, not wanting to get your fingers caught in the holes.

You back off the ledge, giving a look to him. “I wish I was born into a rich family.” You whine. 

“Don’t we all?” He laughs, the two of you move to help guide the cage above the mass pit, where Finnick is standing with one other to sort through the fish and get them into bins. You wave your hand to Bodhi to get him to lower the cage. “What would you want to work as if you were born into a rich family?”

You scoff, “I wouldn’t even work, Atlas. I’d sit around on my ass.”

“I should’ve guessed that.”

You reach up to unhook one side of the case, while he does the same. “Fine, what would you do?”

“I’d have to think about it.” He says, trying to keep a neutral expression.

“Oh, sure.” You laugh, “That’s bullshit. You and me are in the same boat.” You pause to see his face, his jaw is slack, and he’s glaring at you, “Get it?”

“Shut up.”

The two of you work in a long silence. You see him so often that conversations are sparse, but hilarious if timed properly. Atlas is one of those people that you can sit in silence with, and doesn’t feel an urge to fill it. It’s nice once in a while. 

“I’m going to take a break.” Atlas says, stopping by Finnick, “Will you cover me?”

Finnick nods, not saying anything.

In the meantime, you hook the cage doors back properly, pulling on them, and then checking Atlas’ side to ensure that there’s no mistakes. When Finnick passes by to get to the other side of the pit, he double checks what you’ve done. After no complaints, Bodhi brings the cage over the side of the ledge, releases the rope, and then he turns the machine to face the other side of the boat.

You find Atlas trying to stay in the small patch of shade as best as he can, a cold water in his hand. It was a good idea to invest in the cooler, it’s saved a lot of you already. You can’t imagine how bad the other boats are suffering without them, you can’t imagine that Scout agreed to let everyone take a cooler. Or that Heath had enough on hand.

You continue to work without Atlas, checking your station, helping Finnick finish the last of his fish. When he’s done, the two of you loop rope around Bodhi’s machine to grab a different cage than the one you just threw in. The machine winds it in, bringing the new cage to the top.

You hop on the ledge of the boat, leaning over the side, hand hooked in the handle, the two of you pull together, and repeat the process. It’s tedious work, but once you get a hang of it, it’s basically autopilot. You can’t remember the amount of times you were working and found yourself completely zoned out. You suppose that’s not exactly safe, because you stop paying attention to your surroundings to a certain extent, but it hasn’t killed you… yet.

You pause next to the wall, using it to prop you up as you rub the back of your neck. It’s fucking torture being out here. You don’t think there was a single heatwave last year, or the one before that. Then again, there’s a good chance you blocked it from memory. The first couple years on the fishing boats are hell.

You tilt your head back, feeling the sea breeze against your skin.

The boat jolts from a wave, you stumble a few steps, but catch yourself before you fall. You really hate that they make you work long hours, too. It’s easier for them to make you work during the daytime, rather than overnight. Mostly because Scout and the other peacekeepers haven’t agreed to do something like that.

It’d be terrifying, being out here in the middle of the night, pitch black. If you had the option, you think you’d opt for overnight, anyway. At least the weather’s cooler by then.

A hand on your arm makes you jump. When you open your eyes, you see that it’s Feye. She’s got her head tilted slightly, “(Y/n).”

“What?” Your eyebrows twitch together.

“I asked if you were alright.” She removes her hand.

You blink, face twisting briefly. You shrug, “I uh—I was just feeling the air. This heat’s killing me.”

“Maybe you should take a break with Atlas, the two of you work like machines to meet the quota.” She takes a few steps back.

You press the back of your hand to your forehead, letting out a sigh.

You step onto the ledge to prepare to grab the next cage with Finnick, he’s already waiting for you two steps away. You turn to face the water, and the entire world spins in a way that it’s not supposed to. You sway, hands reaching for the railing to steady you, but you miss.

A strangled noise leaves your throat as your hands are met with the open air, static-like stars eating away at your vision without a sign of stopping. 

—

A cool summer’s breeze blows on your neck, relieving the burn that you must have on your skin from being in the sweltering sun. It’s nice and shaded here, you think you could lay here forever while the others do the work, if it weren’t for the fact that you can still feel the baking heat through your clothes, acting as a constant reminder that you haven’t escaped it.

Either way, that won’t prevent you from trying.

“(Y/n)?” A drowned voice asks, laced with worry. 

You can’t imagine why, you’re just taking a quick break. You told the crew that you were going to need a power nap at some point in the day. It’s just what happens when they force you to be up so early and expect you to work well into the night. The only way you can keep going is to sleep, and then you get right back to it. 

“Is she even breathing?”

There’s a pause, “Yes.”

“Then why don’t we leave her?” An impatient voice asks.

“She needs to be awake, that’s why.”

You feel your body get jerked, and manage to twitch your face in reason to how harshly they moved you to prop you upright. There’s something solid that’s holding you up by your back to keep you from collapsing on the ground. You try to open your eyes, curious to see what it is, and find that your eyelids are heavier than normal, refusing to cooperate.

You’re just so tired, and it’s so nice here.

An icy feeling—almost burning—comes into contact with your throat, like a shot to the heart. You jolt, eyes fluttering, grabbing the hand that’s dumping the frigid liquid over your chest.

“She’s awake!” A voice triumphantly shouts, there’s a few audible sighs of relief.

You blink, eyebrows drawing in as you try to get used to the sun. When you relax your face, you take your time to go from person to person. Atlas is crouched in front of you, a boyish smile on his face, “I guess we need to keep a better eye on you.”

You glare at him, turning your head to see what has you upright. You’re met face to face with a familiar set of green eyes that are watching your expression very closely. 

“Are you feeling alright?” Finnick asks, face screwed. He doesn’t wait for you to answer before he’s pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. It’s cold, feels just like an ice pack.

“Yeah,” You murmur, “I’m sorry, I don’t even know what happened.”

“There’s no need to apologize.” He says, capping the water bottle in his hand before setting it next to your thigh. His hand leaves your middle back as he gets back onto his feet. “You fainted, and nearly dove headfirst into the water. I grabbed you.”

“I felt fine one second…” You trail off, meeting his eyes, “Thank you, Finnick.”

He presses his lips together into a smile, “You take care of us, it’s only fair we return the favor.”

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #3] Coffee

warnings: hangovers, language

soundtrack:leave (get out) - jojo, coffee - bts, hangover - woosung

wc: 2k

bd total wc: 540k (on-going)

minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist 

"No you don't understand, I'm actually dead," Hoseok groans into the staff room fridge, where his head is currently resting on an empty shelf. His eyes are closed, and he's been in there so long that the fridge door light has cut out. 

He's not been in the fridge since last summer's heatwave, so you know his hangover really must be as bad as he's making it out to be.

"Stop," you lightly scold him, shooing him away so you can grab the vitamin drink you'd put in there at the start of your shift. You swear by it as your favourite hangover cure, and in fact, it's your second of the day. Something about the ache in your head just won't budge. "You'll let the cold out, Hobes."

"Good," he huffs. "It's a sauna in here." 

It's spring, and summer is yet to fully ripen. There are far hotter days to come, but Hoseok's body is trying to flush the alcohol from his system in the easiest way possible: sweat.

"Whatever was in those little purple shots was lethal," he whines, slumping down onto the single chair in the kitchen. It's cramped, and really not big enough for two people - windowless, but at least there's a vent. 

It doesn't really matter what the staff room is like. You rarely spend any time there; always front of house instead.

For the past two years following graduation, you've been working at Pot & Paint - a painting cafe downtown, where people paint canvases while enjoying a fresh brew. 

Time passes by slowly within the four walls, but peacefully. The fumes get you a little lightheaded sometimes, but for the most part it's a dream of a job. Easy money. Hoseok had taken you under his wing in your first week, and had been stuck to you like dried acrylic ever since.

Days are relatively similar, and yet always different thanks to the customers. You have your set jobs - make coffee, clean brushes, fill water trays - but it's seeing what the customers create that really makes the job so much fun. 

You and Hoseok place bets on which half of the couple will be the better artist, on colour combinations, whatever you can think of. Neither of you ever win anything of much value ("Drinks on me", "I'll make you a coffee", "I'll empty the bins") but it's a way to pass the time, nonetheless.

You rank the best to worst of the day's paintings, but only ever out of earshot of customers. At the till, you will always smile and enthuse over their creation. What's important, you think, is that they're creating at all. To diminish someone's endeavours in such a public manner would be cruel. Art is subjective, after all.

What is objective, however, is how fucked up you both managed to get thanks to Purple Starfuckers. The bartender really hadn't been kidding when he said they were delicious. 

"Amaretto..." you begin to list, but trail off, for the fact you don't have a clue. Can barely remember how you even came across such a delicacy.

Mortifyingly, though, the events in Jimin's apartment are mostly crystal clear. The sex? Meh. A bit iffy. Not much to write home about. The disruption you caused, only to summon a topless bartender? Yeah, a lot more to write home about - but also far more cringe than you can bear to deal with when your head is so tender. 

Hoseok is none the wiser.

He'd crashed at your place and had been woken to a very grumbly rendition of Jojo's Leave (Get Out) when you found him passed out on top of your bed. He'd refused, and so you'd climbed beneath the duvet, him on top, dead to the world until Danbi came through a couple of hours later wrapped up in a blanket of her own.

"Tried calling you," she'd groaned, flopping down onto your bed. "Wanted to order breakfast but apparently neither of you seem to know how to answer a bloody phone."

"Mine's dead," Hoseok had mumbled beneath a pile of pillows. He'd migrated to below your duvet by this point, the pair of you still in last night's clothes. 

You hadn't even showered - the whole reason you'd excused yourself from Jimin's. 

But maybe it was a lie, after all. Maybe you didn't really care about making yourself decent. Maybe sharing a bed with him would have just felt too similar to sharing a bed with your ex. You weren't ready for intimacy, no matter how meaningless.

The beauty of Hoseok was that he'd kicked you fourteen times within thirty minutes. You couldn't fool yourself into thinking there was anything intimate about it.

You'd fumbled around, hunting under your pillow for your phone and almost thought you'd found it. Was about to pull it out when you realised it wasn't your phone at all. Thanked your lucky stars. Would have had no choice but to simply die if you'd started waving a vibrator around in front of Hoseok.

Still, no phone, though. Your clutch was in the kitchen, by the front door, so you assumed it must be in there.

Not checking until after you'd consumed your body weight in hangover waffles, you were confused to not be able to find it anywhere. Your clutch, your bra, your bed, the kitchen, the bathroom - you'd checked them all and yet it was still nowhere to be found. 

"You get a cab home? Might have left it in the taxi?" Danbi had suggested, which was entirely plausible. 

"Maybe," you hummed with a small pout. "I'll call them later."

Later came, and later went - still no phone. The taxi company hadn't had one handed in, which left only one location it could be. One you really hadn't ever planned on returning to:

Jimin's place.

"I don't even know his name!" You cringe when Hoseok asks you about it a little while later.  "Well, no. I know his given name, but fuck knows his family name. Wouldn't be able to find him even if I had tried."

It's not the paint fumes making you feel lightheaded today - it's the roasting coffee beans. The idea of drinking it makes you feel like you're gonna hurl, but you know your body will probably thank you for it later.

"And you're sure he was called Jimin?" He asks, staring down at his phone. He's crouched behind the front counter, not willing to deal with customers but knowing he needs to be semi-present in case the boss pops by. "Sure he wasn't called Jeongguk?"

You hum a little in confusion as you take a sip on your americano. Tastes like shit. "Jeongguk?"

"Yeah, Jeongguk." Hoseok grunts. "Jeon? Ring any bells?"

Oh, how you wish it didn't. You also wish you never made coffee, but hey, bad things come in threes, right? An awkward encounter, a mind-splitting headache and now a terrible cup of coffee. No more bad things.

Except you're forgetting the fact you also had a shit shag, so the quota of three had already been met. Your coffee's just started the cycle all over again. One down, two to go.

"Er, I think so?" You shrug, playing things so cool that Hoseok notices your change in demeanour. There's a smirk on his lips as he glances up at you. 

"He messaged me. He's asking after you."

It's at this point that you think your hangover will catch up with you, and you'll actually be sick. Right on the counter, maybe. There's a sink behind you, but you're already mortified so what would the harm be?

"Let me see him," you say almost instantly, pushing away vomit-inducing thoughts. You just want to check. Make sure it is him, and not some weird coincidence. 

Hoseok passes you his phone, and there he is: Mr Purple Starfucker himself. 

His Instagram is sparse in recent updates, but there's enough of a back catalogue to clue you in on an idea of 'him'. Beach pictures, sunsets, the kind of generic shit everyone likes, but there's something about the way he captures such scenes. Makes them infinitely more breathtaking, you think.

The gym selfies? Yeah. Leaving you a little breathless, too. That's neither here, nor there, though. You'll blame it on the hangover.

"Yeah, yeah, guy from the bar," you reply all nonchalantly, before clicking back into Hoseok's messages.

JustJK: Hey - I work at Dionysus. Think your friend left her phone there. Just let her know I have it and for her to get in contact with me if she wants to come by and get it.

Hoseok thinks nothing of it as you begin typing back - trusts you not to be doing anything untoward. Also is dying too much to care.

seokshine:  hii!! sorry it's me (the friend lol), hobi just gave me his phone!!

JustJK:  Disco Ball?

seokshine:  disco...ball????

JustJK:  You were dressed like a Disco Ball.

seokshine:  thank you?

JustJK:  You're welcome.

JustJK:  I have your phone.

seokshine:  life saverrr, thank you so much <33

JustJK:  I'm at work tonight so you can swing by the club. If not I'll be at the gym this evening? I go to one downtown so it's easy to get to. Just let me know and I'll make sure I have it on me.

The idea of going anywhere near alcohol given your current state repulses you - but equally, so does the idea of going to a gym.

The only plus side would be that you'd maybe get to see his a-

No, no, no, you mentally reprimand yourself, and cover the thoughts of his torso with mental images of Jimin - sexy, charming, average shagger Jimin - because he's the one you hooked up with. 

You'd just been reeling from the sex when you'd seen Jeongguk last night. Easy to let the hormones take over - but he'd been shirtless and -fuck - his tattoos had been so intricately carved into his skin that all you wanted to do was study them and -

Get a grip, girl.

"So?" Hoseok asks.

"So he has my phone. Left it at the club," you lie. "Says I can either get it from the club tonight or he can take it with him to the gym. My choice."

"So... watcha gonna do?" Hosoek asks, none the wiser of the mental hoops you've been jumping through from such a simple decision. Not like it's life or death. It's gonna be mortifying regardless, having to do a second walk of shame in front of Jeongguk.

And so you sigh, and type through a message back to him.

It won't be long, you figure. You won't have to stay. Just get in, get your phone, get out. Never see him again. 

Cool, Jeongguk replies. See you then. 

When you hand your phone back to Hoseok, he raises a brow. "Really? This is the decision you made?"

And unfortunately, all you can do is say 'yes', before you excuse yourself to the bathroom so you can hurl in peace.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT

[popcornforone]

The Good, The Bad & The Naughty

A Dave York Fan Fic

Happy Dave York Saturdays people. Sorry this is a long one, I had intended on stopping at a certain point of writing this, & then I just got carried away. It’s another summer vibe fic this one (maybe a i need a master list for just the summer feel ones I write) but this would have not been possible if it wasn’t for @alwaysdjarin . They said something a few weeks ago linked to the topic in this gif & I took the idea & ran from there. Please go check out their fics especially Red, you will all love it. We share Dave between us.

This is not apart of my Dave York One Week With Series or the additional chapters, it’s just the man is so easy to write for.

Synopsis:- It’s a hot summers day & you can’t get your hosepipe to work, so your neighbour offers to help. You decide the man needs a really thorough thank you.

Word count: 7300

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18!DAVE YORK AS ALWAYS COMES WITH HIS OWN WARNING! PIV sex, shower Sex, out door pleasuring, Oral male receiving, swearing, alcohol, denying, teasing, being topless & naked outside, rough sex, choking, lots of dirty & controlling talk, sucking, biting, voyeurism, basically anything naughty you think you & Dave might do… it happens.

Thanks as always for the read peoples. All feedback is always appreciated. Enjoy Dave . Sorry not sorry.

The summer heatwave can jog on. It’s got too hot now. Far too hot. & that’s saying something because you adore the heat. Putting on your sun tan lotion, catching the rays, having an ice pop. Oooh it’s your season girl. It’s hot girl summer & you want to flaunt it in your garden of your new suburban house you’ve just purchased.

Being single means you get to have fun, & you make sure to have lots of it & try out everything this world has to offer, male or female. But there are times when you need a partner or someone to share your life with. For when you can’t reach the top shelf or the extender for the attic. First world struggles you always say to yourself & you wait for when you father is going to pop over for him to help with a few jobs you just can’t do on your own.

Emergency’s only, you’ve told yourself before calling your dad. You know he will roll his eyelids at you if you call him for help with a hose pipe to fill up your paddling pool for you to dip your feet in & later lay in to cool off after an afternoon of catching the sun. It was over priced, you know it was, but it’s covered by your summer bonus you got at the start of June for all the commission you made. Plus your dog Scruff, the Yorkshire terrier, will love it to cool of in. Pup cups & frozen dog food he has been loving. He’s currently in the shade sitting on the coolmatt in the kitchen, not even attempting to come out side. He must think that his human is mad. It’s a justified purchase when you say it’s for your baby.

There is someone who’s very tempted to come outside though. Your recently separated neighbour. A house that when you moved in 5 months ago was filled with kids playing & laughing. Now this only happens at the weekend, or it was replaced by screaming from the couple. You’ve always been nice to them & they welcomed you to the neighbourhood before splitting up. He is devilishly handsome, so you can see why a wife might be jealous of other women’s affections to her husband, & that might be why she’s taken the kids. The house next door may look like a happy family home, but that just not how the Yorks work, especially Dave.

Dave can see you struggling untangling your hose pipe for your paddling pool, from the safety of his upstairs bedroom window, completely naked after his shower to cool down from his work out, contemplating what to wear today. He is wondering how well you would handle his own length. Your hands delicately grasping it, making sure it firm & steady. You’ve conversed a few times but it was seeing you in the spring almost swallow a hot dog hole that made his eyes go wide. How slack can her jaw go? Is her oral going to be as good as that? Dave shakes his head but then glances back at the garden & the state of you. Mermaid shorts & a tie up binkini top. He’s been staring long enough, he can see that he needs to calm down. He knows it’s time to act on his instincts & enjoy you for a glorious afternoon in the sun. It’s time for him to put on something appropriate, which can easily have you staring at him, & make you want to beg for him.

You are so lost in trying to fit the adjustable hose pipe nozzle, that you don’t hear him walk from his house, down the garden & lean on the fence.

“Need a hand?” The words startle you & you drop the hose pipe. He’s leaning on the fence with a large icey water bottle, still in a shirt but there’s clearly some buttons are undone. His tone always so deep & seductive, even on your first meeting you thought there was something very sexy & gravely about his voice.

“Ooh hi Dave” you reply, tucking your hair flirtingly behind your ear. “Erm don’t think so, I think I’ve got this” you say keeping eye contact with him, fumbling about for the hose you just dropped. At hearing Daves voice, Scruff has run down the garden & started doing zoomies & barking.

“Hey scruff,” He leans over the fence seeing the dogs excited tail wag. You smile as you see Daves face light up even more. Dave sometimes works nights & you always know when he’s back, Scruff hears the car arrive & looks out for the man who brings him cheese. He always has some in his pocket.

You return to putting your hose pipe together, & you just hear Dave tut. Without looking you also know he’s shaking his head.

“Well I can either come help, or laugh at your struggle” Dave says, without looking you can sense the smirk, it’s such a devious & sexy smirk. You look at him with a face like thunder, but you’d also quite like to get everything ready.

“Well how long do you want me to struggle with this?”

“Until you’re begging for me…” oooh it sounds so seductive when he says that. His deep tones, & gruffness. You look up slightly & see the mischief in his dark brown eyes, maybe this is why he’s separated, just his words make women weak for him. He can see how red you turn & it’s not just from the heat.

“Then come help me then Dave, please. I may be a strong independent woman, but every now & then…” you pause wondering if you can play him back at his own game. He is always such a charmer & you’re decent too, but not at his levels. But you go for it “…I need a man to sort me out. To grab the situation & make sure it’s looked after correctly” you raise a smug eyebrow at him which he does his own, until you bite your bottom lip. That flusters him slightly.

“Well as you asked so nicely & I can’t not help out a damsel in distress…” Dave walks through the gate of his backgarden to the path & then unhooks yours. You look him up & down because you can’t help but stare. His light pink shorts have a Shark & octopus designs on them, which cling to his skin. The outline being shown for all to see. The blue shirt is undone for all but 2 buttons, a cheeky nipple on display. He looks beach ready & you know when he arrives there, if that is where he is venturing today, every single person at the beach would stop to look at this glorious mountain of a man, & all are probably wondering like you, if these are just swim shorts or not.

Dave notices your longer glance, he knows what you’re thinking. He has his own needs that he would like to be satisfied as well but he just casually walks across to you & firmly grabs the hose pipe, his hands holding it in a grasp that would be used for pleasure.

“Right let’s have a look at this” he doesn’t make eye contact with you, & you’re grateful. You’re aroused by the way he’s taken charge & has come over to be a man of the house for you, as he twists the nozzle to free the small bit of plastic that has been stopping you getting this on so far. It drops out & you shake your head.

“I should have seen that there was a second piece, I removed the first” you feel stupid but Dave doesn’t mock you.

“It’s okay, it will be fine, don’t go getting your knickers in a twist” he says before his mind then wonders. Are your bottoms under those shorts also tied up like your bikini top? His thumb will make easy work of those knots & he will be sucking on your breasts for all his worth with just a few motions, watching you rive in his lap. He shakes his head trying to get the vivid image out of his head.

But then Daves fantasy thought is completely interrupted. You had turned the water on to check you weren’t making an error earlier, but the first nozzle was blocking it. As Dave went to check everything was in place, he clicked it round & the water squirted him straight in the face.

“Fuckkkkk” he screams, the cold water blasting him, & you run to the tap to turn it off while he fights against the spray, spluttering.

“sorry Dave, I forgot I’d done that in my earlier checks…” but your words drift off as you see his glistening chest. The pale blue shirt sticking to his abs. The way it shines is more attractive to you than a magpie is to silver. Your jaw would be on the floor if it could go that far. Your eyes can’t hide that you’re gawping at such a drenched spectacle of a man. Who knew your next door neighbour could look that hot & sexy after a 10seconds spray of some cold water. Dave is not the only person in your garden who is wet.

“Well I’m awake now…” Dave says to snap you out of your trance . “…I mean I’m always awake, but that just saves me having a cooling shower in a bit. “

“shit Dave I’m so sorry, but you gotta laugh or…”

“gawp!” He interjects. You can feel the heat in your cheeks rise. He can tell he has an effect on you. You try & not look at him but as soon as you do, you see those eyes smoulder. There’s a reason why you hardly ever pay attention to what he says whenever you two talk, one glance is all it ever takes.

“Let me go get you a towel Dave, or I can thank you with anything you want? I can go get whatever, once the paddling pool is full. You’re more than welcome to use it ,unless you were heading off to the beach” you’re fast talking as you fill the pool, it shows how nervous & effected you are by him.

“I’m sure whatever you have got Will be fine darling…” Dave goes to add some innuendo but at that exact moment you bend over in front of him & he admires how the mermaid shorts hug your arse & how well you can actually handle that hose. He so wants to slap your bum in which ever way your would prefer, but he knows he’d need your consent first. You don’t notice Daves gone quiet. Your mind is on filling the paddling pool & watching Scruff try to pounce on some butterfly’s. Every time he fails he whimpers.

“it’s okay Scruff they can’t hurt you,” you tell him before he eventually gives up & puts his head in the edge of the pool. “Almost there baby” you say as those big puppy dog eyes look at you.

“Did you just call me baby?”’Dave interjects. You’d completely forgotten about him & Scruff goes up to him for belly rub rolling around on the floor. His hands have always been so large as they engulf your dog.

“No…I…” You’re flustered. You meant to call the dog baby but suddenly that’s all that your mouth can form. Wanting to call Dave baby. Wanting him to delight you, wanting you see how good he is at taking control.

“You meant the dog…”he finishes when he sees you flap about a bit & then he sees the paddling pool about to over flow. he leans across taking your wrist, grappling the nozzle& then turns it off. “Don’t want everything to be soaked now do we”. The gulp you make at those words which are said so deeply along with the eye contact, make you want to soak your own knickers. This man has a hold on you & you want it all. & Dave can sense it too, he’s just waiting to see what you do next before he makes a move.

“I’ll…I’ll be back in a second” you run off to the house to calm down. He’s still technically married. The divorce isn’t final. But you keep having these moments & at night you wonder how good Dave would feel as he told you how special you are to him. You grab a small towel for him to dry off with & then lean against the fridge, heart pounding away, deep breaths being taken as you try to compose yourself. You not this easy to seduce no, you say to yourself. You open the fridge door & grab a beer as a thank you to Dave. The coolness of the fridge helping to cool yourself down but it’s not calming down your burning desire inside you. Maybe it’s time to chat with Dave as you drink these beers in the garden, about your needs that need attending too.

You slowly walk back to the garden, trying to keep your composure & see his blue shirt now over the back of the sun lounger. A bare chested man is now sitting in your garden playing fetch with your dog. you can hear the excited growls as you make your way across to them.

“Here you go Dave… thank…” you can’t help but look at his well defined torso without his shirt on. A happy trail leading to where you would like to be acquainted with. You mind is racing & you can’t hide that you are looking at all of him

“…you?” He questions & then finishes your sentence with a really smug grin on his face. He takes the beer but puts it & the bottle opener on the table next to him. “Well you are welcome ‘baby’…” he mocks your earlier comment “…but I think a thank you needs to be much more personal” his large hand takes yours, rubbing his fingers & thumbs around your wrist. You gasp from the soothing touch & you start to turn crimson & look embarrassed.

“Oooh sweetheart stop looking shy. Come here & Let me take a look at you” he pulls you so you’re in front of him. Scruff wanders back to the house, he knows he’s not going to be playing fetch for a while, so he’s off to go find some shade. You still feel self conscious as both Daves hands stroke your arms & your hips start to sway. A small little smile falls across your face as a handsome man is clearly admiring & wanting you. “Well this just isn’t acceptable darling.” He sits up & tuck your hair behind your ear. “We need to address that smirk across your face, & make it do something else” you slowly stradle Dave as he pulls you inches away from his face. His chest feels fantastic, rock hard & his heart is beating faster that a bullet train. “We need your mouth to be occupied another way, other than just drinking beer & stumbling your words, even though it’s adorable”

You don’t hold back & your lips meet Daves. So round & plump. He was ready & waiting & the way he nips at your bottom lip before you allow his tongue to glide around your mouth, exploring every inch of it, it’s like you’ve never kissed a man before. He feels so different to anyone else you’ve made out with as he holds your face. Your tongue twister never ending. Little sighs escaping before the embrace continues. All the butterfly’s taking flight as you feel all this man has to offer. You didn’t know kisses could feel like this, & it’s taken your mysterious neighbour to unlock this desire.

You break away, slightly opening your eyes & smile at Dave as your hand cups & then caresses his right cheek.

“Oooh kisses with you Dave, how can I say no to that” but as your mouth moves towards his, for another embrace after your soft words, he grabs your chin to keep you at bay.

“Your mouth is not for my lips to enjoy yet sweetheart, you need to earn that before you receive more of those” he says deeply, his eyes dilating waiting for you to do what he wants. “I don’t ask twice baby” he says looking serious. Your hands glide down his body & then you see the out line of his length is much more on show & larger than it was earlier under those shorts.

“Mr York, are you happy with where this is going?” You ask raising an eyebrow suggestively.

“Baby I said I don’t ask twice, if you want to thank me, you can do it on your knees” it doesn’t matter that he’s suddenly gone moody, dark & menacing. Dave York is making you feral. You slowly climb off his body & kneel in front of the lounger, as he sits up straight & your hands along with his, untie his drawstring & you remove his shorts to his ankles.

They were just swim shorts, he’s commando underneath & his girthy length springs to life, bobbing, erect & waiting for you to pleasure it. Your eyes are wide in shock as to how big he is. Is that really going to fit in your mouth, let alone your cunt if you thank him well enough? It’s leaking at the tip already. His large hand looks small as he leisurely strokes it while you stare, the other is stroking his thigh, beaconing you to come nearer.

“A good girls like, you must know what it takes to thank a man like me, baby. Don’t be shy, let’s get aquatinted properly” there’s smug look on his face. He knows he could make you do anything right now. Saliva is gathering in your mouth, you’re ready. It’s been a while since you’ve had a penis in your mouth, so you know you need to take this slow, but that will just mean Dave gets this for longer & hopefully he will enjoy it more.

“How do you know that I’m good dave?” Positioning yourself & placing your hands around his length stroking it as both your eyes widen.

No words are said of consent, just eye contact. Just silent nodding. You sigh & move your head towards it. You lick across the tip & he gasps at the sensation. The anticlockwise motion you start, it slowly going past the tip, around his length.

“Oooh girl you’ve done this before haven’t you? Such a good girl” he says as he strokes your cheek. You pull away, leaving some slick on his penis.

“I’ve not even really got going yet Dave” you wink at him & you both smile at each other, before you purse your lips & start to really work on him. Your hands on his length as you start your bobbing, filling your mouth with all of him.

Daves sigh echos, it’s deep & almost a moan at the end as your start pleasuring him.

“Oooh baby” his head rolls around his neck as he spreads his thighs a little more as you suck away. His body twitching already as he is fully inserted in your mouth, each motion making his hips want to move. “I may have to help you out with more jobs in the future, if your going to thank me like this” one hand is on the back of your head encouraging the bobbing, he wants to feel the back of your throat. He wants to fill every available gap.

“Good girls say thank you, bad girls show they are thankful, naughty girls who need help make sure the needs of the helper are met.” Dave says as he starts to sink further back in the chair. You’ve found your rhythm now. Your breathing through your nose, as his penis starts to hit your throat. So large in size & girth, no man has ever felt this good or full while you’ve sucked him off. You’re really enjoying it & the occasional look up through your lashes at Dave, you are enjoying the look on his face. The way he called you a naughty girl made you clench, you bikini bottoms getting wetter than if you were in your paddling pool. You see the heat raise in Daves face, not just from the early afternoon sun, but from his desire & lust for you as you slurp away at his length. He’s trying to control his body but he can’t. His hips are starting to thrust fully into your face, which along with this hand & your own motion, makes you gag around him. You are feeling the most powerful & sexy you have felt in a long time. Your hunky neighbour is sitting naked on your sun lounger & you are giving him your best blow job in years. You know this is the case because you are being aroused & he is trying everything to make this last for as long as it possibly can.

You come up for air briefly but your hands still work his glistening shaft, coated by you so far. Your eyes start being transfixed on it. It large & makes your hands look so dainty, In fact it would probably make Daves hands which usually eclipse everything seem normal size. Daves stares at you & growls when you let got, enjoying the small trickle coming from your mouth but when he makes eye contact with you he can tell this is just the beginning.

“& helpful mysterious handsome neighbours will always be rewarded” you lick your lips after saying this before your lips once again embrace his penis & the oral onslaught continues.

“Oooh sweetheart, bet all your exs miss you” Dave groans his body rolling faster. “Such a small & beautiful mouth, nice & tight,you look all sweet & innocent on the surface,, but your just needy like the rest of them, my naughty girl” his panting resumes before he holds your head in place & sits right on the edge of the chair, your head almost in the hair around his base, he can’t get any further into your mouth & throat even if he wanted to. “I wonder does your pussy have the same effect? Bet it’s drenched already”

Daves now got both hand grabbing your head & he’s in control. He’s face fucking you, controlling the rhythm, watching as he slides in & our if your mouth. Loving the suction, the gagging music to his ears.

“Your mouth is now mine sweetheart” he groans “you hear that, if you want me to do anything for you, you know the payment.” Your eyes start to water, every third motions you gag, he’s hitting your reflex spot a lot & it’s making him go faster. “Look at you darling, so keen to thank me, so keen to gawp, now your making me happy & you don’t stop until every last drop is swallowed, you understand my slut, my neighbourhood slut. Bet everyone else in the street wishes they knew how good your mouth is” he’s almost shouting in desire to make sure they all do know that he’s face fucking you, his moans are trailing out at the same time. He’s lost in the moment trying to get to his climax. Your eyes sting, but you are loving how he just isn’t letting go. It’s aroused you so much, you can feel your slick pooling in your bikini bottoms, maybe you’ll have to be naked in the padding pool later. You’ve let go of this length, you’re gripping onto his hips as he thrusts away into your face.

“Come on sweetheart, your filthy mouth can do better than this, make me happy, oooh fuck…” Daves hips start lost their rhythm. You’re starting to take back control, but you can see his body jolt in desire. He wanted you to lap up every drop, not waste one, & you want to taste him. You lick a few stripes around him knowing it’s coming, & don’t have him so deep that you might choke. “Ooh fuck sweetheart, I…I’m… get… ready” Dave moans your name as your mouth is filled with more than just his penis two motions later. Salty & tangy liquid spews into your mouth & down your throat for a few moments. The gasps & moaning he is doing which also hold some fuck yes’s at the same time, fill the garden air. Not even Scruff having a bit of a bark at a cat in the back ground is taking the two of you out of this moment. “Oooh fuck yes sweetheart” he cry’s juddering watching your throat gulp him down. He owns your mouth now, it’s his property. You eventually pull away & you both notice the trail from his penis to your mouth, a mix of his cum & your saliva as he sits back in the chair, catching his breath, completely exposed & still erect.

“Sweetheart what did I say?” He says as he sits back up. This hand grabs your chin sharply. “I said every drop & this trickle escaping, well that’s not acceptable” he has eyes of the devil as his flat thumb wipes off the trail that’s about to drip. He places the thumb on you lips “suck” it’s a firm request & wont be asked twice. You lean into his thumb & suck it for a good few seconds. He quickly then removes it before grabbing his swim shorts that are around his ankles to cover him again, tying up the drawstrings. “Be a good girl & open my beer” Dave nods at the bottle, he’s in controlling teasing Dave mode & you will do anything to get this man in the paddling pool with you to have sex with you in the shallow water now. All your morals out the window, this man is now sex on legs for you, here to scratch your itch, so you lean over & open both your bottles of beer & swig from his as well as yours before you hand it across.

“Anything to be of service for you” you say, you hold your own coolish bottle to your head to cool. Condensation trickling down your face & neck trying to cool you from the suns heat & the heat inside you desperate for more from Dave.

Dave leans down & picks up the hosepipe & then leans back in the lounger.

“You seem a bit hot & flustered sweetheart. Do you need to cool down?”

“Dave I… ahhhh” the high pitch squeal you make is from the spray of the cold water from the hose crashing against you. Your hands after putting your bottle down, try to stop it but you can’t deny this cool sensation is most welcome. Feeling the spray as Dave hoses you down, your mermaid shorts soaked & your nipples hardening under your bikini top. Dave licks his lips as he sees you start to enjoy it a little bit too much. He wants you but he’s going to make you earn his pleasure a little bit more. He stops the spray & gulps the beer down. Before he stands up & takes your hand, admiring your dripping body as he helps you stand up to.

“Bad girls…” he whispers in your ear seductively “know when they have over teased…” he walks behind you, his hand smacks your arse in your drenched shorts as he rolls them free. He can see your bikini bottom just about covering your arse, they are tied like your top & he waits for you to step out of them before his hands trail up your body until they reach the small knots keeping your top on “… & they know when they need to be pleased.” The knot in the Centre of your back & around your neck both undone in a matter of moments. Your bikini top falls from your body. Dave rests his head on your shoulders looking down at your wet chest as your heart beats faster. His hands come around & cup both breasts, starting to stroke your nipples. The lightest of touches, making them even harder. You push your arse back into his swim shorts, feeling his bulge grow harder.

“Dave please, let me thank you some more” you plead.

“See I knew I’d have you begging for me” Dave is now in front of you, looking at you in all your glory, seeing the small piece of material hanging on by two small knots. It’s covering what’s left of your modesty. The temptation far too much. He sighs before his lips meet yours. Delicious & smooth in the embrace as his hands rest around the back of your neck & your breast as he walks you backwards to step you into your paddling pool. Your feet enjoying the cool water & he slowly lowers you down into the shallow pool. He’s not got in himself, he’s to the side. The hand that was teasing across your breasts, is now collecting small cups up water, pouring them across your chest, making you gasp, as your nipples get so hard.

“Oooh Dave I want you” panting & begging words come between each kiss the two of you have. His lips no longer a stranger, your hand trailing down his chest heading to the happy trail, inches away from removing his shorts & pulling him into the pool with you. But Dave then smirks & grabs your wrist. A Devilish look on his face.

“& naughty girls need to be taught that they don’t just get what they want all the time” Dave says. The eyes contact is deep before a frenzied kiss, biting your bottom lip as it breaks, his eyes wired & darting crazily. Dave then removes himself from your personal space completely. You sit in the pool desperate for him, for his touch, his kisses, & his throbbing penis. But there he goes. He picks up your bikini top, his shirt & the bottle of beer which he finishes. “Always a pleasure to come & help a neighbour” he says & nods. You’re gawping at Dave, trying to protest his leaving, almost willing to take off your bottoms to make him change his mind, but he’s still teaching you a lesson, a lesson only he could do. He saw you gawp & he gave you a taste & now he wants you to plead for more. Your stunned silence, as you see him head for the gate, is interrupted by Scruffs barking as he runs after Dave before the dog leaps in the paddling pool with you, as you helplessly watch your handsome neighbour leave.

Your phone number is on the neighbourhood watch list all resident of the road have. So when a day of laying in your garden topless is over & you have a nice even tan everywhere you head in for a shower. Dave has been watching you all afternoon from his window, pleasuring himself, wondering what excuse he can use to come back & thank you for an afternoon’s entertainment without sounding creepy. He hopes you haven’t seen him. But he still decides to message you when he knows you’ve gone in for the day.

*hope your had fun in the sun sweetheart & enjoyed all of this glorious summer day

You’re startled when your phone goes off & then smile as you see it’s Dave. No one else would call your sweetheart. You’re literally about to leap in the shower. So you send him a picture of your bottoms on the bathroom floor with the captions

*a good girl showers & does her laundry the same day, a bad girl tells your the back door is unlocked & a naughty girl…🫦🍆

You hit send & step in the shower, waiting & hoping.

10 minutes later large hands, that you had only fantasised about until midday today, are around your waist. His penis against your arse. Your own hand around the back of Daves neck as you kiss deeply, your bodies already rolling, feeling him get harder. Your own arousal getting more, as your other hand starts to tease your clit. The water hitting you both. It’s warm compared to the hose & the paddling pool, but it’s making this steamy booty call even more sensual.

“Tell me sweetheart what does a naughty girl like you do in this situation?” Dave groans, he pushes you against the glass of the shower, & your spread your legs as he lines up ready to take you, a condom already on his penis that he’d put on before he joined you.

“Naughty girls like their sexy neighbours to fuck them hard & rough” you’re already panting as you say this.

He says nothing. He thrusts deep inside you I. One motion & you can feel him fill you up. He is bigger than you’ve had before, & it pushes all the air out of you.

“Fuck me sweetheart, your so wet & tight” he thrusts again, not allowing you to get comfortable “I should have been the one begging for this not you, fuck me” a slap of your arse as he thrusts agains, the sting of being spread & the feel of him dragging your walls & his spank making you clamp & moan his name

“Dave oh fuck Dave” it’s almost a whisper you’re straining already in pleasure. He’s finding his rhythm quickly as he starts to pound into you. He drags you back under the shower streams, so he can see your misty silhouettes in the shower glass reflection.

“Look at you darling, taking me so well, almost like your cunt was made for me” he’s so deep in his response & inside you.

He’s got his arms wrapped around you thrusting hard & then one lets go & turns off the water confessing you. You thought he was into this & he’s still making you moan.

“Trust me?” He asks as you gasp as the mist lifts into the extractor, he can feel you body tense up.

“Yes Dave” you softly reply

“foolish answer” he moans before he withdraws & drags you still dripping out of the shower & he stands next to the closed laundry basket. Legs spread, condom dripping with precum which you can see at the tip, your slick & shower water, trickling down its length. Your eyes wide wondering how your pussy accommodates all of that inside you. He’s huge & hung well.

“stop admiring sweetheart & get over here like the naughty girl you are” you know he won’t ask twice. In a flash you’re standing next to him, you hands playing with his ball. His thumb circling your clit while your lips collide.

Your hand then slowly starts to removes his condom as you whisper, “I’m clean & on an implant Dave, I want you to claim me if you want to” Daves eyes dilate & a frenzied look appears on his face. He pushes you onto the laundry basket.

“spread” he demands as he takes the condom off, throwing it in the sink “naughty girls like to give bad boys a full frontal show” Dave stares at what he’s been thrusting into as your legs part. “People would kill to have even a chance to gaze upon you in this position sweetheart” he says as he jerks his length before he swipes it through your slick. This makes your enterace flutter, desperate to feel him inside you again. “Look at you, so eager, so desperate. Do all naughty girls put out like you do? Are all naughty girls so tight?” He growls holding your chin as his tip nudges against your entrance.

“Well not all bad men have a naughty girl to fuck when they want, like me Dave” you reply as you lick your lips & then you gasp.

He’s slower this time as he inserts his penis inside you, he knows how your going to feel now, he knows after the initial few minutes of blistering movement standing in the shower that your body can take him at his most passionate, so he wants to build up your collective high. His own sigh & eyes closing once he’s seen he’s fully inside you is followed by a “damn, your so fucking tight, like your cunt was made just to satisfy me” He kisses you & bites your bottom lip feeling the way your body responds to him. One hand on the small of your back as he makes sure you’re comfortable on the lid of the basket & the other heading to your clit to stimulate you. Your hands are on his firm chest as you slowly start to wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer so he feels deeper inside you, filling you so there’s nowhere he can go.

“Fuck me Dave, this cunt needs a good fuck” a small smile forms on his lips & his vigorous thrusting starts at a much faster pace.

“Naughty girls get fucked hard, bad boys fuck how they want” he says his voice already straining. He’s hitting that spot every time, he can see you desperate for air & you body moving with his, each thrust & movement sending you both into extreme pleasure. Maybe he had wanted to take this slow, but not any more. Dave wants his fill & he wants to spill inside your tight cunt as many times as he can tonight, especially when you’re begging for it.

“What … whatt… oooh fuck yea” your words are failing you as you look at him & see his chest heave, stimulation is in over drive “… what about… naughty boyessssss , oooh fuck, just like that baby” Daves taken one of your nipples into his mouth, your squeezing his body with your thighs as you are wrapped around him. The way his tongue feels on your hardens nipples is exactly how you had imagined it earlier, it feels divine.

Your pleasurable moaning thought is stopped in its tracks. Dave let’s go & stops sucking your nipple & the hand that was on your clit is now gripped around your throat choking you. His brown puppy dog eyes that are usually so big & adorable are now as black as the night sky, dilated, frenzied & full of desire.

“A naughty boy fucks sluts like you until you squirt” he scowls, his voice is hoarse & rough “a naughty boy goes harder when she begs for more, which your dirty mouth good at doing sweetheart” he can see you silently mouth Dave please as he moves harder, even harder than he was when he face fucked your earlier, your pussy ready to soak him, but he keeps going as you go higher & higher through your layers of desire “a naughty boy ruins you, so you’ll beg for his cock every night, no other boy or toy will satisfy you again sweetheart” the rhythm is relentless & you pull Dave completely against you, his grip harder around your throat. He’s loving you as you gasp for each breath, it’s making your body convulse.

“But that’s a naughty boy sweetheart…” the devilish look is back in Daves eyes that are burning with desire. “…I’m a naughty man, I’m the devil…” words that turn you on even more your slow close to cumming as you desperately try to catch a few gasps of air any way you can, you’ve lost control of the rest of your trembling body “…& I make every naughty girl, wish they were my whore” these words are whispered into your ear with 3 huge thrusts that send you over the edge. Clamping around him. Soaking his penis. Letting go. Experiencing the ultimate pleasure. No one has ever fucked you like this. No one has ever given you such a long orgasm. His hand peels off your neck letting you breathe & you take in as much air as you can, your eyes slowly opening, feeling like a new person & then they ping open wides as Dave screams you name along with “tightest fucking cunt to ever fuck” & his penis erupts, filling your core. Mixing with your own release, as he starts to slow down. His own desires & fantasy met. He finally got to feel how good your cunt was, & it didn’t disappoint.

“Fuck Dave, oooh fuck” you eventually manage to muster. He’s trailing kisses up your neck as he catches his own breath. “You made this summer girl all hot & sweaty & unnecessary” your eyes eventually meeting before you wrap your arms around his shoulders & kiss him with all the lust left in your being, never wanting to leave this moment. To stay sitting here with his cock inside you, even though it’s softening, having him tell you how naughty you both are.

“Well sweetheart, not all naughty girls have a mouth & cunt like yours” he says when your lips eventually part. He slowly withdraws & you wince at his loss & you both stand in the shower to clean up. He’s still admiring your naked curves, as you sort yourself out.

“Does that fucking mean, I can get you to help me out another day Dave, should I need a hand” you ask as your wrap a towel around you & Dave drys off & picks up his swim shorts, ready to redress in them again.

“But I thought you were a strong independent woman?” Dave chuckles as he throws the condom in the bin, that he fishes out of the sink “I thought you we’re capable…”

“don’t make me beg Dave”’you tut & roll your eyes as you interrupt him.

“Well begging got us here in the first place,” he says tying up his shorts as you open the bathroom door & Scruff comes bouncing along your landing to the two of you, with big puppy dog eyes.

“Turns out scruff isn’t the only one with big brown eyes, I won’t say no to” you say as you head down stairs to the kitchen with Dave following you as he is ready to head back to his.

You pour Scruff his dog food into the bowl leaning down. “There you go baby, have a taste of that” you say to the dog.

“Ooh I intend to” says Dave deeply before spinning you around “I want the good, the bad & the naughty from you every time” he says as his hand strokes your face & he pushes you against a counter.

“Well I would use my paddling pool more, give you a good view, but someone has stolen half of my swim suit.” You laugh before you give dave a passionate kiss. Your hands once again trailing across his body, feeling every inch of him. He then hold up the bottoms that you left on the bathroom floor, looking suggestively .

“I’m taking these too, that way you’ll have to invite me around each day of summer, for some paddling pool fun.” The smirk & the eyes say it all, as your towel cascades to the floor.

“& I’ll thank you every time you do help me with any of my needs Dave”. Thank god Scruff can’t talk, although he must have been wondering what the cheese man & his human did on the kitchen table to make such high pitched nosies that made him hide in the lounge. Being Naughty has never felt so good & who knew a helpful friendly neighbour could lead to so much pleasure.

[sicherheitzuerst]

Rammstein in the Rain ☔️ Brussels Night 3 / End of Tour.

I found out my coat wasn’t waterproof anymore on the walk from the tram stop to the entrance. Aces.

Bagged myself the Must have end of tour merch. The €5 rammstein bin bag poncho. Reason 476 I love this band. They’re never one to miss out on a little bit of corporate opportunism and banged a rammstein sticker on the poncho packaging. Made a mint too by the looks of it from how many people wore one.

Feuer Zone was oddly empty. I ended up pretty much where I’ve been the last 2 nights (creature of habit, hi) but 2nd row. It didn’t fill up all that much around me either. It felt quite intimate in a way, that there was just me and the few people In my periphery being performed for.

To say it rained, it rained a lot. My trainers had breached by Links and I was wet through to my underwear by the end. Most of the concert I watched through the blurry blotches of rain on my glasses as everything was too wet to try and wipe off. But I laughed, because it was so utterly ridiculous how much it was pouring down. My first night of this tour was Berlin’s 36 degree heatwave and my last is 10 degree Brussels where I could see my own breath as I sang along and the steam rising from Till as he sang and somehow still managed to sweat under the lights. His mohawk was flat before the middle of Bestrafe, even Richards usually spiked look ended up framing his face. I said in Berlin, Richard looked like he was living his best rock star life. Last night There was times his expression (and mine tbf) was that of someone definitely questioning their life choices which led them to standing out in the piss down rain for 3 hours.

Anyway, less of the weather chat.

Nothing too crazy happened, there was no mic malfunctions which given the weather was more of a miracle and there was less group wide drum stick liberation this time, Schneider was probably down to his last handful.

I’ve already shared Till joining in the stick man dance spinning his little torches. I half anticipated him coming out in an actual light suit but this was somehow better. I know whenever I’m having a bad day I’ll watch that clip back.

There was more inflatable shit brought back. Sharks, a globe, Paul had a flamingo. Till refused him landing originally with it until Paul had done some convincing. The fee seemed to be a little smooch for Till from both the blow up bird and Paul himself. Richards Intervention the previous night seemed to work as he only brought back a body board and a note. I want an end of tour photo of the band and all of the stuff they’ve collected on their boating adventures please and thank you.

Till wore a beer can helmet for mein teil. I’ve read that one can said ‘roofies’ the other ‘KO drops’ but I was too far away to confirm. Probably did though.

He stole Jens’ little go pro on a stick and caused some mischief. He didn’t stick it down his pants however which was very unlike Till.

Of the 3 Belgian shows this one felt the least atmospheric crowd energy wise which surprised me given it was the last night but I guess the weather really didn’t help.

No “see you in….” Announcement at the end which I am a little sad about but I didn’t expect anything for 2024 anyway. Wait and see. I don’t think it will be long before we know their future plans.

I’m off to the airport on 3 hours sleep, back to reality rather than my Rammstein summer. What a ride.

❤️‍🔥

[bellafragolina]

I would like to request headcanons. Piers, Hau, and Emmet (all separate) with a s/o who was from a different region than theirs. (For example, Piers with a s/o from Alola, Hau with a s/o from Unova, and Emmet with a s/o from Galar)

i'm not gonna lie to you i read Hau and was like hell yeah gilf lovers but then i realized the grandpa is Hala and i apologize to everyone

🍓🍓🍓

Piers:

Piers thinks it interesting that you're from a different region, one that's so sunny and hot, compared to Galar's cooler climate. He teases you about getting cold easily, but on the flip side thinks you're nuts for wearing a sweater on the greatest heatwave in a century (buddy, it's like 70 degrees F / 21 degrees C??).

Piers likes hearing all the phrases that you brought from Alola. You say "Alola" as hello, along with your wave, you say "yeah" a lot and call everyone "cousin" and Piers thinks it's the cutest thing. He's this close to writing a song about it, but wants to keep your cuteness to himself at the same time. He'll write one just for your ears only, he thinks, listening to you ramble away about some funny story from childhood

If you have an Alolan specific Pokémon, he's very interested in them. He's especially curious of the Alolan variations of Pokémon he already knows about. Show him a Alolan Dugtrio and you will witness the first and only time that Piers has laughed himself to tears. Don't worry about the Pokémon, though. They know they're fabulous. It's Piers you should worry about; he's about to bust a gut

Hau:

Hau is too excited that you're from a different region, especially one so different to his. He begs you to tell him everything you know about Unova. It's all so foreign to him, so he thinks anything you tell him is the coolest thing every. It's cute, how starry-eyed he gets hearing about things as simple as the pizza ratata on the subway. You want to take him one day, just to see his reaction, but you'll save that for when you both are older and more experienced with Pokémon

Hau wants to battle you all the time. You being from a different region means you must have different ideas for strategies! And Hau wants to become stronger, so please teach him what you know! You spend a lot of time training together, then taking time off to get malasadas as you relax on the beach. Hau enjoys this time with you, more than he enjoys the taste of malasadas, which is a lot

If you have Unovan Pokémon with you, Hau is on his knees, eager to bond with them. Their novelty enthralls him, and they mean a lot to you, so he wants to befriend them as well. He's especially interested in your Beedrill, but warns you to keep it out of Guzma's sight. Don't need the big bad boss harassing you over seeing your cool bug

Emmet:

Emmet thinks you're the funniest thing since slapstick. He loves how properly you speak, and the little phrases you say. They're nothing like anything he hears in Unova, especially Nimbasa (where everyone speaks like they're from Brooklyn), so you're a refreshing and amusing change of pace. Emmet could listen to you talk for hours, and he wants to as well! You talk him right to sleep most nights

He wants to know everything about the train systems in Galar, he knows you have them. If you're not that knowledgable about them, he's sitting you down for you both to do a deep dive into the subject. He wants to open a battle subway there too, or maybe just a battle train? Will you help him if he does? You could be one of the trainers that other trainers have to beat to get to him. Make him sleep on the couch for not including you as one of the final bosses

If you have an Galarian Pokémon, he wants to battle with them. It doesn't matter if they're on your or his team, he wants to see them in action. In fact, should you bring him an Applin, explaining the significance of the little Pokémon, you'll get to see Emmet smile so wide while crying at the same time while also trying to kiss you and it to death. He loves you so much!!

🍓🍓🍓

this was fun! the different pokémon that populate the different regions would intrigue the boys to no end in different ways, yet the same ways as well. it was fun to think about!!

have a good night, everyone!

~Renee

[alphabetboyluvr]

bad decisions | jjk - three

You hum a little in confusion, taking a sip of your americano. Tastes like shit. "Jungkook?" "Yeah, Jungkook." Hoseok grunts. "Jeon? Ring any bells?" Oh, how you wish it didn't. You also wish you never made coffee, but hey, bad things come in threes, right? An awkward encounter, a mind-splitting headache, and now a terrible cup of coffee. Three. No more bad things. Except you're forgetting the fact you also had a shit shag, so the quota of three had already been met. Your coffee's just started the cycle all over again. One down, two to go.

Bad Decision #3 - Coffee

warnings: hangovers, language

soundtrack: leave (get out) - jojo, coffee - bts, hangover - woosung

wc: 2k

bd total wc: 370k (on-going)

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

"No you don't understand, I'm actually dead," Hoseok groans into the staff room fridge, where his head is currently resting on an empty shelf. His eyes are closed, and he's been in there so long that the fridge door light has cut out. 

He's not been in the fridge since last summer's heatwave, so you know his hangover really must be as bad as he's making it out to be.

"Stop," you lightly scold him, shooing him away so you can grab the vitamin drink you'd put in there at the start of your shift. You swear by it as your favourite hangover cure, and in fact, it's your second of the day. Something about the ache in your head just won't budge. "You'll let the cold out, Hobes."

"Good," he huffs. "It's a sauna in here." 

It's spring, and summer is yet to fully ripen. There are far hotter days to come, but Hoseok's body is trying to flush the alcohol from his system in the easiest way possible: sweat.

"Whatever was in those little purple shots was lethal," he whines, slumping down onto the single chair in the kitchen. It's cramped, and really not big enough for two people—windowless, but at least there's a vent. 

It doesn't really matter what the staff room is like. You rarely spend any time there; always front of house instead.

For the past two years following graduation, you've been working at Pot & Paint - a painting cafe downtown, where people paint canvases while enjoying a fresh brew. 

Time passes by slowly within the four walls, but peacefully. The fumes get you a little lightheaded sometimes, but for the most part it's a dream of a job. Easy money. Hoseok had taken you under his wing in your first week, and had been stuck to you like dried acrylic ever since.

Days are relatively similar, and yet always different thanks to the customers. You have your set jobs - make coffee, clean brushes, fill water trays - but it's seeing what the customers create that really makes the job so much fun. 

You and Hoseok place bets on which half of the couple will be the better artist, on colour combinations, whatever you can think of. Neither of you ever win anything of much value ("Drinks on me", "I'll make you a coffee", "I'll empty the bins") but it's a way to pass the time, nonetheless.

You rank the best to worst of the day's paintings, but only ever out of earshot of customers. At the till, you will always smile and enthuse over their creation. What's important, you think, is that they're creating at all. To diminish someone's endeavours in such a public manner would be cruel. Art is subjective, after all.

What is objective, however, is how fucked up you both managed to get thanks to Purple Starfuckers. The bartender really hadn't been kidding when he said they were delicious. 

"Amaretto..." you begin to list, but trail off, for the fact you don't have a clue. Can barely remember how you even came across such a delicacy.

Mortifyingly, though, the events in Jimin's apartment are mostly crystal clear. The sex? Meh. A bit iffy. Not much to write home about.

The disruption you caused, only to summon a topless bartender?

Yeah, a lot more to write home about, but also far more cringe than you can bear to deal with when your head is so tender. 

Hoseok is none the wiser.

He'd crashed at your place and had been woken to a very grumbly rendition of Jojo's Leave (Get Out) when you found him passed out on top of your bed.

Naturally, he'd refused, and so you'd climbed beneath the duvet, Hoseok still on top, dead to the world until Danbi came through a couple of hours later wrapped up in a blanket of her own.

"Tried calling you," she'd groaned, flopping down onto your bed. "Wanted to order breakfast but apparently neither of you seem to know how to answer a bloody phone."

"Mine's dead," Hoseok had mumbled beneath a pile of pillows. He'd migrated to below your duvet by this point, the pair of you still in last night's clothes. 

You hadn't even showered—the whole reason you'd excused yourself from Jimin's. 

But maybe it was a lie, after all. Maybe you didn't really care about making yourself decent. Maybe sharing a bed with him would have just felt too similar to sharing a bed with your ex. You weren't ready for intimacy, no matter how meaningless.

The beauty of Hoseok was that he'd kicked you fourteen times within thirty minutes. You couldn't fool yourself into thinking there was anything intimate about it.

You'd fumbled around, hunting under your pillow for your phone and almost thought you'd found it. Was about to pull it out when you realised it wasn't your phone at all. Thanked your lucky stars. Would have had no choice but to simply die if you'd started waving a vibrator around in front of Hoseok.

Still, no phone, though. Your clutch was in the kitchen, by the front door, so you assumed it must be in there.

Not checking until after you'd consumed your body weight in hangover waffles, you were confused to not be able to find it anywhere. Your clutch, your bra, your bed, the kitchen, the bathroom; you'd checked them all and yet it was still nowhere to be found. 

"You get a cab home? Might have left it in the taxi?" Danbi had suggested, which was entirely plausible. 

"Maybe," you hummed with a small pout. "I'll call them later."

Later came, and later went - still no phone. The taxi company hadn't had one handed in, which left only one location it could be—one you really hadn't ever planned on returning to:

Jimin's place.

"I don't even know his name!" You cringe when Hoseok asks you about it a little while later.  "Well, no. I know his given name, but fuck knows his family name. Wouldn't be able to find him even if I had tried."

It's not the paint fumes making you feel lightheaded today, but the roasting coffee beans. The idea of drinking it makes you feel like you're gonna hurl, but you know your body will probably thank you for it later.

"And you're sure he was called Jimin?" He asks, staring down at his phone. He's crouched behind the front counter, not willing to deal with customers but knowing he needs to be semi-present in case the boss pops by. "Sure he wasn't called Jungkook?"

You hum a little in confusion, taking a sip of your americano. Tastes like shit. "Jungkook?"

"Yeah, Jungkook." Hoseok grunts. "Jeon? Ring any bells?"

Oh, how you wish it didn't. You also wish you never made coffee, but hey, bad things come in threes, right? An awkward encounter, a mind-splitting headache, and now a terrible cup of coffee. No more bad things.

Except you're forgetting the fact you also had a shit shag, so the quota of three had already been met. Your coffee's just started the cycle all over again. One down, two to go.

"Er, I think so?" You shrug, playing things so cool that Hoseok notices your change in demeanour. There's a smirk on his lips as he glances up towards you. 

"He messaged me. He's asking after you."

It's at this point that you think your hangover will catch up with you, and you'll actually be sick. Right on the counter, maybe. There's a sink behind you, but you're already mortified so what would the harm be?

"Let me see him," you say almost instantly, pushing away vomit inducing thoughts. You just want to check. Make sure it is him, and not some weird coincidence. 

Hoseok passes you his phone, and there he is: Mr Purple Starfucker himself. 

His Instagram is sparse in recent updates, but there's enough of a back catalogue to clue you in on an idea of 'him'.

Beach pictures, sunset pictures, the kind of generic shit everyone likes, but there's something about the way he captures such scenes. Makes them infinitely more breathtaking, you think.

The gym selfies? Yeah. Leave you a little breathless, too. That's neither here, nor there, though. You'll blame it on the hangover.

"Yeah, yeah, guy from the bar," you reply all nonchalantly, before clicking back into Hoseok's messages.

JustJK: Hey - I work at Dionysus. Think your friend left her phone there. Just let her know I have it and for her to get in contact with me if she wants to come by and get it.

Hoseok thinks nothing of it as you begin typing back - trusts you not to be doing anything untoward. Also is dying too much to care.

seokshine: hii!! sorry it's me (the friend lol), hobi just gave me his phone!!

JustJK: Disco Ball?

seokshine: disco...ball????

JustJK: You were dressed like a Disco Ball.

seokshine: thank you?

JustJK: You're welcome.

JustJK: I have your phone.

seokshine: life saverrr, thank you so much &lt;;33

JustJK: I'm at work tonight so you can swing by the club. If not I'll be at the gym this evening? I go to one downtown so it's easy to get to. Just let me know and I'll make sure I have it on me.

The idea of going anywhere near alcohol given your current state repulses you - but equally, so does the idea of going to a gym.

The only plus side would be that you'd maybe get to see his a-

No, no, no, you mentally reprimand yourself, and cover the thoughts of his torso with mental images of Jimin—sexy, charming, average shagger Jimin—because he's the one you hooked up with. 

You'd just been reeling from the sex when you'd seen Jungkook last night. Easy to let the hormones take over—but he'd been shirtless and—fuck—his tattoos had been so intricately carved into his skin that all you wanted to do was study them and—

Get a grip, girl.

"So?" Hoseok asks.

"So he has my phone. Left it at the club," you lie. "Says I can either get it from the club tonight or he can take it with him to the gym. My choice."

"So... watcha gonna do?" Hosoek asks, none the wiser of the mental hoops you've been jumping through from such a simple decision. Not like it's life or death. It's gonna be mortifying regardless, having to do a second walk of shame in front of Jungkook.

And so you sigh, and type through a message back to him.

It won't be long, you figure. You won't have to stay. Just get in, get your phone, get out. Never see him again. 

Cool, Jungkook replies. See you then. 

When you hand your phone back to Hoseok, he raises a brow. "Really? This is the decision you made?"

And unfortunately, all you can do is say 'yes', before you excuse yourself to the bathroom so you can hurl in peace.

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

[woozingie]

14:06

member: woozi genre: say it with me: domestic! fluff! word count: 864 content warning: one (1) rude thing is said without meaning it! it does not bring major consequences! also allusion to potential sexual intercourse at the very end note: this blurb is both prep for the 31 degree (90°F) weekend coming up and my trauma healing for that summer i spent in korea six years ago in 47 degrees (120°F) “It’s so hot.... Jihoon....” Lying on the floor under the old and inefficient air conditioner, limbs stretched out, your speech slurs in the sticky, impossible heat of summertime. Now that temperatures had reached their peak as they do in the early hours of the afternoon, there was nothing to do but wait it out. You feel around for your boyfriend’s arm, grab his wrist and shake it lazily.

“What do you want me to do about it? Don’t touch me!” He jerks out of your grip, both of you groaning. The heatwave was supposed to last a week, but it’s day ten of this madness and everyone, but especially one person, is done with it. Jihoon was already rather averse to too much touching, so the constant weight of the humid air on his skin has him on the brink of a meltdown. Emotionally, it makes sense to you, but rationally, everyone is over the heat; it's not an excuse to be so sensitive. You’re not there to manage Jihoon’s little temper tantrums.

“Quit whining and help me up!” The sound of hot skin sticking to slippery floor made you both grimace. With a groan and a mumble, Jihoon slowly turns to face you. “Why should I help you up. What will I gain from this effort. What are you trying to do.” His voice is monotone in a way that probably takes more effort than it would to speak normally. You can’t contain your laughter, making him frown. 

“Gonna turn on Free! so we can think of being in a pool...” Speech and motion sync at such a speed, you might not make it up nor finish your sentence before sundown. When you finally reach a sitting position, you turn to the man staring at you in undeserved exasperation and go “ha!”, and Jihoon’s mouth opens and immediately closes. He does not even have the energy to tease you today, though he can’t suppress a snort of amusement when you decide to stay on all fours, crawling to turn on the TV and starting the show. You crawl back to him then, mischievous smirk across your face, and he realises too late.

“Noooo nonononono NO!” Your laughter drowns out his protests as you let yourself fall head first on his chest, arms wrapping around his waist, slipping a little bit as two sweaty bodies come together in the least sensual way. “You’re disgusting,” Jihoon struggles to push you off him and only succeeds when you let go in fake hurt at his words. He is lucky you can tell the difference between general annoyance and sincerity. Still, he could be more careful, you think. He won’t take it back though; you know he’s stubborn and too hot right now to be bigger than his bad temper. He will find a subtle (he thinks) way to make up for his hasty choice of words, you will gracefully pretend it has nothing to do with it, he will know that you know why he is doing whatever he will choose to do, and the case will be closed. It’s a matter of time. So you just settle on the cold-ish floor, back against the couch, and focus on your anime. 

It’s only when you feel a warmth that isn’t the humid air weighing you down that you realise your eyes are closed, the television is off; you must have fallen asleep. You peek through barely open lids to see Jihoon staring at you with his neutral-good look. It’s that look he wears when he is acting normal, but you can read his good mood through the poker face. It takes months and years of practice to get it right between neutral-good and neutral-could-turn-murderous. The memories could make you shudder. 

“Awake?” Jihoon is still saving energy on speech. You sit up and rub your eyes, adjusting to the new light bathing the room in orange hues. How long were you out? You don’t have time to ask before your boyfriend hands you a tall glass of water with half-melted ice cubes at the bottom. “Drink. Been asleep for five hours, dehydrated.” You take the glass and sip on the fresh water without saying thank you. This is the official procedure for communicating to him that you know he is doing this for forgiveness. Jihoon scoots closer to you then, resting his arm on the couch to comfortably play with the hair sticking to your neck, hesitantly pressing his lips to your bare shoulder. You set the glass down next to you, careful to keep it far enough to prevent any broad movement from spilling its content. Turning to him, you look into his eyes and suppress a smile. “I was disgusting a while ago, but now the temperatures have come down we’re trying to get it on?” He pauses for a second before rolling his eyes, standing up and lovingly throwing a “shut up” your way, but you caught that smirk on his lips and the glint in his eye. And you definitely saw him look over his shoulder and motioning for you to follow him to the bedroom.

[johnzillaaaa]

I ordered a few pairs of linen pants for the first time in my life recently. They were mainly to protect my legs from getting bit up by mosquitos while still being relatively cool and breathable.

I like them quite a bit so far! I can really feel the air from a fan through them. They're actually more breathable than every pair of shorts I have. I kinda want linen EVERYTHING now to be honest, but damn, linen boxers are pricey. Maybe I'll just stick to shirts/shorts/pants.

The only downsides are 1) they look like pajamas so I'm a little embarrassed to wear them out of the house, and 2) two of the three pairs I bought have a FAKE POCKET in the back! I know, I know, women deal with that shit all the goddamn time, and trust me I'm outraged on your behalf as well, and genuinely excited when your dress has pockets.

OH! Also! A fucking mosquito STILL bit me right on the ass through both the linen pants and my boxers while the fabric was stretched tight because I was crouching down to water my watermelon plants! I couldn't believe that shit! Luckily it didn't hurt that much or keep hurting for very long.

I swear I must be more allergic than most people because it hurts BAD, especially on my feet/ankles/legs. And it can keep stinging for days, up to a week even.

It's been a dreadful 86°F INSIDE the house today due to our air conditioning being barely-functional. It was 96 outside. If 10 degrees difference is the standard, I do NOT look forward to the inevitable heatwaves of 110-115° days. Last year there was a whole month where it never dipped below 100 at night. At. Night.

[zoskas]

PLEASE IM THE ANON WHO SENT THE HOT SHOT THING AND PLEASEEE I AM BEGGING FOR MORE OF YOUR THOUGHTS DOESNT JUST HAVE TO BE ON THAT TOPIC LITERALLY ANY HOT SHOT AS A RODICLASH KID THOUGHTS AT ALL I MUST HEAR FROM YOUR GENIUS MIND

SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO GET TO THIIIIS i was dead after new years i drank 2 much and then i forgot to respond whoops. UMM I SPILLED MOST OF IT IN THE LAST ASK FOR THE MOST PART I THINK..... having to churn my brain for transformers headcanons and fandom-specific words i had back in 2021 is INSANE im rubbing at my head. for the most part like i said in the prev, i think rodimus had a whole personality shift out of fear of being a bad parent. he has a lot of issues with emotional regulation in my brain (adhd for life...sarcastic yawn) and he acts out a lot to try and stay in a good mood. coping after nyon messed him up a lot, unsurprisingly, and it reflects into his everyday life years later. i don't think he's childish by any means because it's a popular headcanon for a grown ass man that gets on my nerves a lot LOL; but he's definitely very emotionally overwhelming and makes up excuses or outright dismisses a lot of things--i figure without thunderclash in the picture he'd definitely spoil hot shot a lot in attempts to give him a less stressful life and it'd definitely be a power trip for the kid. this isn't really to set thunderclash up as the bad cop, he's just definitely more calm and well thought out compared to rodimus and i think rodimus himself would take it as example, which is why he has such a hesitant and pushed personality shift in the aftermath. do i think he slowly goes back to normal as he gets more comfortable with the situation? yes. and thank god, because thunderclash was getting worried after it went on for a little too long. neither of them are amazing at being parents, i don't think either of them pictured a kid in their lives before they met each other (thunderclash was constantly busy, rodimus prefers independence in his private life) and there's a lot of worry between the two if they're being too helicoptery outside of their hab suite. i think that's half the reason they send him to RBA. they realize he needs to socialize more and be independent, but it's safe and private which gives them some peace on the matter.

once he's old enough, hot shot knows very well who his parents are and what they mean to society: queue added pressure to perform, which we see at the start of the series. growing up he was very sheltered and only got to meet people within the LL circle: queue added confusion. it's not that he didn't go off the ship once he was old enough, and more that rodimus and thunderclash were very picky about when and where to take him out. ironically, once he reaches the age where all of this really affects him in personality, he's at the academy. i don't see many pairs on the ship having families, outside of lug+anode who canonically stated wanting kids, and whirl's scraplet baby who is TOTALLY whirl from rba (if we're ignoring canon rules for a little bit then hot shot totally dragged her into it and they knew each other before this)--so he only really got to meet a few people his age growing up before the RBA story. a lot of people would see him taking his try-hard traits after rodimus but i've worked with kids in the past and i think it's just that--him being a kid. personally i see him growing out of it and behaving more like thunderclash in his adulthood, heatwave's behavior also plays a part in this (and i find him to be a bit of an uncle to him) ^_^ he definitely idolizes both of his parents (which is a little sad to a degree) but when you're in the place of people who are basically historical figures, it's really hard not to. i think he gets a lot of real-talk from drift+ratchet on the matter... ESPECIALLY from ratchet since he started working at the academy (iirc) (my feelings on drift+rodimus' and thunderclash+ratchet's friendships are for another time but it definitely impacts these discussions) yes, they keep in touch over comm. yes, rodimus cried when he got home like it was the first day of kindergarten. hot shot grew up very clingy due to how he was raised, but after getting a lick of independence he had a complete turnaround. post RBA i think he has a vision for himself and does his own thing happily. in his adulthood he calls when he can, he goes to see them when he can, but he's not a homebody by any means. hopefully this is all cohesive again LOL i basically just tried to word vomit what i remembered and what i realized while writing... i don't think hot shot's life was luxury by any means but he didn't have a bad childhood either. everyone in his circle meant well and he appreciates the people in his life the same way they appreciate him ^_^

[birdwatching-goesbothways]

Of marshmallows and bad ideas

Summary:

A heatwave has Jim Gordon sleepless, so he decides to take a nightly walk, during which he runs into a certain someone.

Notes:

@gobblepotgazette

I wrote this for Gobblepot summer 2022! My main prompt was ‘full moon’, but I also added ‘fruit’, ‘broken AC’.

Summer in Gotham is a curse.

The heat lingers over the city like the fog does in winter, even at night.

The tall buildings standing close to each other add to this problem, by making any thought of a fresh, cool breeze nothing more than a silly fantasy.

During the nights, the merciless sun is replaced by faint stars, barely visible through the electric glow of the city.

Even then the warmth lingers, clings, stubbornly refusing to dissipate.

Seeping from thoroughly sun-warmed stone so that not even an open window provides much of a relief.

None of that would have been much of a problem for Jim Gordon, he’d grown accustomed to it by now, after living here for so long.

…Had the wonders of modern technology not forsaken him by allowing his air conditioning to be broken on the hottest night of the year.

As it is, he is tossing and turning in a bed already barren of any pillows or blankets, windows ajar in the vain hopes that it might at least offer some illusion of fresh air.

This cheap and quite useless try at fooling himself has a price though, as through the open windows there is bright moonlight streaming in, burning his tired eyes and threatening to give him a headache.

To make matters worse, his attempts at blocking it out or simply ignoring it have proved to be of questionable success at best.

In fact, all his efforts proof completely useless, as sleep keeps eluding him expertly.

When he changes position for what he feels is the hundredth time this night, he decides to give up entirely.   Instead, he hastily throws on some clothes, grabs his keys and heads for the door, feeling eager to leave his stuffy apartment.

If he can’t sleep anyway, he might as well stop trying and enjoy the night instead.

He hesitates for a moment, before grabbing his gun and badge too, almost as a second thought.

Better safe than sorry, even though he’s not planning to visit the truly dangerous parts of the city.

Even though the heatwave has criminal activity on an all time low, giving off the impression that not even criminals seemed to be resistant to the drowsiness and listlessness that comes with the heavy heat.

Even though the full moon and warm wind create such a peaceful and serene atmosphere, illuminating the empty streets in an almost ethereal glow.   Once outside, he wanders around aimlessly, enjoying the excuse to get rid of his restless energy.

It’s… nice honestly. The, if not exactly cool then at least less warm, night air feels soothing against his flushed skin.

He comes across what he suspects is a drug deal, but for once he just passes by.

He doesn’t feel like making an arrest tonight, and one more stupid kid hoping to  make quick money won’t make much of a difference.

Besides, if they’re out “working” in a night like this, instead of partying with their friends or making an effort to escape the heat, they must truly be desperate, and having to pay for a lawyer won’t exactly do anything but make their situation worse.

Other than that, the streets are completely empty.

There’s the occasional stray cat, sure, and sometimes a lone car drives by, but for the most part he walks alone.   So when he hears the rhythmical clicking of a cane, and notices that the shadowy figure a few streets ahead limps in a very particular way, he already has a strong suspicion as to who it is.

He speeds up his steps to catch up, resisting the urge to break into a jog.

That just might come across a little threatening, especially since Cobblepot doesn’t seem to have noticed him yet. When he is finally close enough, he reaches out to tap the gangster’s shoulder, only to have him suddenly swivel around, teeth bared.

The unmistakable flash of a knife has him stumbling back in surprise, holding his empty hands up in a non-threatening gesture.

“Easy now, it’s just me. And I really wasn’t planning to get stabbed tonight, so if you don’t mind…?”

Cobblepot’s almost manic expression immediately shifts to embarrassment as recognition flits across his face.

The knife vanishes as quickly as it appeared. Impressive slight of hand as he has to admit.

“Jim! I apologise, I realized someone was following me, and I thought… had I known it was you, I would never have been as rude.”

Now it’s Jim turn to be embarrassed. Of course Oswald had noticed him approaching, he would be long dead if he didn’t have a talent for such things.

“Lesson learned, don’t try to sneak up on a mob boss. Got it.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate your company, but what are you even doing here, at this hour?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Too warm. You?”

Despite making his inquiry deliberately casual, he’s pretty interested in the answer. Because Cobblepot still seems overly tense, his pleasant smile more strained than usual.

There seems to be anger bubbling beneath the pristine surface, and he can’t help but wonder why a man of his standing would walk along Gotham streets alone at night, instead of being driven in one of his fancy cars, or at least protected by lackeys.

“Ah, you know,” the smile he receives now is faker than the Gucci handbags they’re sometimes trying to sell on main street.

“Just a trivial old business meeting. Nothing for you to worry about.”

If he were one of Cobblepot’s Business partners or lackeys, he’d worry for his safety.

“And you just.. felt like going for a walk? Alone?”

The man’s smile sours.

“Their incompetence annoyed me, so I sent them away.”


Great. Apparently, his spontaneous hunch has been completely right.

Penguin’s mood must be pretty bad, if he’s angry enough to send the entirety of his men away in order to walk somewhere by foot, despite the obvious pain in his leg.

God bless the poor devils he has “trivial business” with.

At least he tells himself that the gnawing worry he feels is merely for the people Cobblepot meets, not for the man himself.

He can’t deny though, that it’s not a great sign, to see the penguin so seething with rage that he becomes reckless.

He looks like he’s just itching to make rash decisions that will end badly for everyone involved, most of all himself.

For a moment he considers simply arresting the mafia-boss to stop the blood bath he suspects would follow otherwise.

All he has to base an arrest on though, is him threatening an officer with a most likely illegal to possess switchblade. Even if the obvious claim of self-defence wouldn’t work, Cobblepot’s lawyer would have him out by tomorrow morning.

Free to go wherever he likes, only considerably more angry.

That’s not worth straining their already tense relationship more for.

But he can’t just let things unravel either.

That’s when a, part brilliant, part idiotic idea hits him.

“If the business is so trivial, maybe you’d like to accompany me on my walk instead?”

Perhaps that would at least give him time to calm down a little, before he went to unleash hell on whoever managed to enrage him so.

He seems conflicted now, obviously contemplating the offer, yet loath to give up his initial plan.

“As much as I’d love that, I’m afraid being seen together at this hour wouldn’t be good. I’d hate to tarnish your integrity.”

He’s not going to give up that easily.

“Didn’t think of that. My apartment’s  A/C is broken, so I can‘t really invite you there, but… you could join me on the roof.”

Seeing that Cobblepot doesn’t seem entirely convinced yet, he uses his ultimate ace.

“Besides, wouldn’t you rather spend such a nice summer night with a friend instead of wasting it on business?”

By the way the mans expression changes from slight suspicion to shock, and then to honest joy, he can tell that he’s got him now.

Even his anger and frustration seem to be momentarily forgotten.

“If you insist, I suppose I could make some time.”

Jim has to supress a smile.

******

Once they’re on his apartment’s roof, which almost definitely isn’t supposed to be used as a hangout spot, Cobblepot looks almost comically out of his depth.

Standing on the dusty and barren flat roof with his fancy three piece suit, perfect eyeliner and elaborately styled hair, he looks like Jim felt whenever Barbara had dragged him to some fancy restaurant with too many forks and too small portions of food.

“Why exactly did you want to come here again?”

The obvious confusion yet careful politeness makes Jim chuckle. What a subtle and painfully Oswald way to say “this place is a dump, why the fuck did you make me come here”.

“I know it’s not exactly fancy, but it’s tradition.”

That certainly manages to catch Cobblepot’s attention.

“In my youth, in nights like this, me and a few friends used to sneak out. We didn’t feel like sleeping or staying inside. Not when the moon was bright, the air was warm, and you could sometimes see fireflies.”

Jim doesn’t entirely know why he’s sharing this private piece of memory with the king of the mob of all people. Maybe he wants to defend his choice of place, or maybe he just likes the way Oswald’s eyes light up at the freely shared memory.

“We lived in the suburbs though, which essentially meant if anyone saw us, our parents would know by morning. So we found a place where no one would see us, which just happened to be the roof of an abandoned factory.”

Oswald smiles, although it seems a bit melancholic.

“That sounds wonderful. I wish I had stories like this.”

That gives Jim another ridiculous idea. And when he already gave in to the first one, he might as well do so with the second.

He does have to try and keep the man here long enough to calm down. “Wait here, I’ll be back in a minute.”   Unknown to Jim, Oswald’s anxiety is getting worse by each second ticking by.

He just can’t help but worry.

What if Jim wouldn’t return at all, and it was simply a cruel joke, something to embarrass him? Or worse still, what if it’s a trap? He’s certainly thrown people off the roof before, so what would stop Jim from doing the same?

His morals, idiot, his brain helpfully supplies, not easing any worries with its admittedly truthful remark.

What could be taking Jim so long? And why did he even invite him in the first place? It’s not like he expressed any desire to spend time with him before.

He’s not coming back.

He should just leave. Spare himself the embarrassment and hurt of not being wanted.

What a silly idea, to accept such an obvious ruse in the first place. A rooftop? Seriously? There’s nothing here. Nothing but dust and dirt.

As Jim returns, he finds Oswald pacing restlessly, obviously uncomfortable.

He politely ignores the obvious relief on Cobblepot’s face as he sees him, instead showing off what he brought.

“Blankets and candy, some fruit too, in case your tastes are too refined for dollar store twizzlers.”

He lays down the blankets, gesturing for the other man, who seems to be at a loss for words for once, to sit down.

Then he sits beside him, before taking out the twizzlers and munching on one of them. He offers them to Oswald, who indeed seems more inclined to go for the fresh cherries he brought.

“Fraternising with the enemy by offering them snacks? Shame on you!”

“Never saw you hesitating to offer me a drink either. That’s what they say, right? Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”

“Believe me, the things I do to my enemies are very different.“ he lightens the remark with a cheeky grin that makes Jim feel slightly uneasy.

“I offer you drinks because I hardly see you as an enemy, old friend.”

“Alright, “old friend”, he says, opting for a lighter mood. “You complained about not having memories like mine, so I decided the time has come for your first ever legendary rooftop hangout.”

Only when Oswald laughs in surprise, lifting one impeccably styled eyebrow, Jim notices that he let the old, quite embarrassing name slip out.

“That’s, uh, that’s what we used to call it. Back then.”

“Adorable.”

“Shut up.”

That’s when he remembered that he brought something else too.

He takes out the items from his bag. A candle, matches, toothpicks and mini marshmallows.

The puzzled looks he receives from the other are very satisfying.

He does eventually take pity on him though.

“Another tradition. You can hardly make a bonfire on a roof, so we had to improvise in order to eat marshmallows. This is what we came up with.”

He sticks one of the mini marshmallows on a toothpick, before lighting the candle and handing it to Oswald, whose confusion seems to have turned into intrigue.

“How do you do it?”

“What, don’t tell me you never had marshmallows?!”

“As you might be able to imagine, I didn’t really have friends in my youth, so it just never came up. We weren’t all football stars and homecoming kings, Jim.”

Perhaps Jim would feel bad for him, were he not wearing a tie that probably cost more than his entire apartment.

He bites back the comment though, instead aiming to share his sparse knowledge of marshmallow grilling.

“It’s simple, really. You just have to hold it close enough to the fire to melt, but not close enough to burn.”

It’s amusing to see the grown man so out of his element, working with the same precision you’d expect from a surgeon, as if the marshmallow might explode in his face at the smallest mistake.

“Personally I just light them up and blow out the flames though. They end up a bit charred, but it gets the job done.”

Oswald chuckles in surprise, and Jim can’t help but notice how beautiful he looks like this. Genuinely happy and unguarded, exited about something so trivial.

“You always did lack patience and foresight.”

“Careful, I’m about to revoke your candle privileges, and then you’ll have to eat the marshmallows raw.”

“Raw? Seriously? It’s not meat James.”

“I’m never inviting you anywhere again if you keep criticising me.”

“Oh no, please do reconsider Jim, how could I possibly survive without the luxuries of this barren roof?”

It’s surprisingly easy to joke around with the man who calls himself king of Gotham.

Although right now he seems more like a court jester, with his affectionately mocking quips.

“Pray tell, what else does one do on a “legendary summer night rooftop hangout?”

“We used to talk about all kinds of things. Stuff like, how would our three dimensional world look like to a being of the second dimension? Would it be some cosmic horror trip?”

The nostalgia has gripped him full force now, and it feels like these nights long gone are once again close enough to reach out and touch.

He can almost hear the laughter of his friends, feel the thrill of going against his mothers rules to just get away from everything for a while, from the oppressive atmosphere and the glaring emptiness his father left.

He wonders how his friends from back then are doing today.

Better than him, he suspects. Certainly not roasting marshmallows with a ruthless killer.

Whatever.

“It’s fascinating to hear such things. I suppose my own youth wasn’t as normal, in hindsight. I spent most of my time poring over books, reading every book about strategy and war I could get my hands on.”

“Sounds lonely,” Jim can’t help but blurt out, which he immediately regrets.

He really isn’t in any place to judge.

Still, the image of a younger Oswald, sitting alone in his room while the others met up with friends or went to parties, desperately reading book after book, hoping to get somewhere, some day: it hurts.

He wonders if it was a voluntary choice, or if had simply been his way of coping with the fact that none of the others wanted to talk to him.

Okay, definitely enough of that train of thoughts.

Oswald brushes away his concerns easily, if not completely convincingly.

“I was simply too far ahead of them. And it paid off, didn’t it? Here I am, powerful and wealthy, respected, while they have their pathetic nine to five jobs and little domestic fantasises.”

“But enough about me,” he exclaims, cheer returning to his voice, “please do tell me more about that youthful ritual of yours, I find it terribly fascinating.”

“One time we ended up giving the constellations new names. Believe me, they were terrible.”

It looks like Oswald wants to know more, so he quickly continues on. He isn’t about to confess that he made up a constellation called ketchup dancefloor.

“Other times we just talked about life, or exchanged secrets.”

At the mention of secrets, Oswald perks up, before asking all too non-challantly: “Oh, secrets? What kind?”

The trap is awfully obvious, however Cobblepots terrible impression of innocence is so amusing, that Jim still decides to indulge him on a whim.

“Something like this: I lied earlier. I don’t… “ he tries to make his voice sound light, hoping not to betray the weight of what he’s admitting. “I don’t actually see you as an enemy. I try, but I’m not very successful.”

For the fraction of a second, shock is visible on Oswald’s face, before he elegantly covers up any and all true emotions with a thick layer of sarcasm once again.

“Aww James, how touching. It’d be an honour for me to buy us matching shirts with the inscription “I don’t actively want you dead”. It’ll be so sweet.”

Jim’s retaliation consists of threateningly moving his hand towards the candle, as if he were truly planning to take it away from Cobblepot, who, by the looks of it, had been enjoying the marshmallows immensely.

Seeing the obvious warning, he relents, smirking.

“Alright alright, I’ll stop making fun of you. Now, I believe I do owe you a secret too?”

What a surprise! Oswald Cobblepot, the Penguin, not making use of the fact that he didn’t make any promises in the first place? Willingly surrendering private information? Truly unusual.

“You don’t have to. I was just explaining how the game works.”

“Oh I wouldn’t dream of breaking the sacred rules of summernight rooftop secret trading.”

He certainly isn’t too shy to embarrass Jim by continuing to use that silly name.

“I believe it has to be something you’ve never told anyone, something close to the heart?”

He nods, although he would like to deny that his secret had fulfilled these specifications.

He has a feeling Oswald would look right through his protests anyway.

“Then I have the perfect secret. I hope you’re aware though, that I will have you killed should you ever tell anyone.”

Alright, now he’s curious.

“Unless you’re about to confess a murder or similar crime, I festively vow to stay silent.”

“I’m not unhappy with my past or choices, it brought me to where I am after all. But sometimes I wonder how it would be like to kiss someone.”

He certainly wouldn’t have expected that. In fact, it hits him like a freight train.

“You’ve never..?”

“Of course I’ve had sex, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not some blushing virgin. It was just never paired with the kind of attachment that warranted kissing.”

And if he sounds slightly bitter about it, Jim certainly won’t call him out for it.

It’s shocking enough that a man so private, so careful not to show weakness, so worried about his reputation would offer such a private detail.

But then again, this is such a typically Oswald thing to do. The man is a tactical genius, a master manipulator. He even uses his vulnerability as a weapon, subtly forcing Jim to step away from his black and white thinking and recognising him as something else than a heartless criminal.

It’s impressive, really. And it’s working.

And fuck, the peaceful atmosphere, the silver moonlight, and the warmth these old memories brought to his chest have him considering something incredibly stupid.

“If you really wanna know what it’s like, I could kiss you.”

Oswald’s head snaps up with so much force that Jim is worried he might have pulled a muscle.

He seems to be completely flabbergasted, before his delicate features contort in anger. There’s a slight blush too though, which implies that he seems to have considered the idea at least for a moment.

“What?! How dare you make fun of-”

“Relax, it’s not that at all,” he hastily tries to explain. “I’m actually serious. You see, when me and my best friend were 17, we were wondering that too, so on a night exactly like this we just kissed each other. We were only that, friends, and there were no other feelings involved, but I don’t regret having my first kiss with someone I cared about instead of some random stranger at a party.”

“And I wouldn’t mind being that someone for you, if you’re interested,” he adds carefully.

“I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s just an offer. Take it or leave it.”

Honestly, he has no idea what possessed him to make such an offer in the first place. It’s ridiculous, idiotic, and totally shouldn’t make his heart rate speed up.

“Besides, I do still owe you a favour, in case you’re more comfortable with a trade.”

He gives his best roguish smirk, hoping against all odds that it will be enough to convince Oswald.

If he doesn’t, he can still play it off as a joke.

Oswald just stares at him for what feels a lot longer than seconds, calculating gaze making him squirm.

He gulps, wondering exactly how obvious his nervousness is.

Whatever Oswald had been looking for, he seems content, as he finally looks away.

“A trade then. I accept your conditions.”

Jim’s confidence is fading fast now, as he realises just how crazy what they’re about to do is.

Oswald seems calm as always.

Annoyingly in control, mischievous glint in his eyes.

Oh to be that collected. Instead, his palms are sweaty, his heart is racing, and his breath is coming short.

It’s not because of Oswald, he tries to tell himself. It’s just been too long since I’ve been close to someone like this.

Either way, he certainly feels something as Oswald reaches up and pulls him down to his height.

Resistance doesn’t even come to mind, he just obediently follows along.

He looks directly into Oswald‘s eyes now, piercing and green, long dark lashes accentuated by subtle eyeliner.

He‘s close enough to see the little golden specks in his iris, and oh god was this a stupid idea, it feels way too intimate to be this close. To share his breath and smell his perfume, to feel his warmth.

He should break away now, should try to laugh it off.

Instead he closes his eyes his eyes as Oswald pulls him closer still, closing the gap by leaning in and pressing their lips together softly, in a chaste kiss.

Functioning entirely on instinct now, Jim’s hands fly up to pull Oswald closer, to deepen the kiss, chasing the lingering note of sweetness the marshmallows left.

The silky suit feels so good under his fingers, smooth and cool despite being entirely unsuited for the warm weather.

Body warmth is seeping through the layers, and feeling entirely too hot in his own shorts and shirt, (even more so right now), he can only imagine how it is for the other man right now.

He would be all too happy to help him with that, peel him out of the many layers until his searching hands find skin to caress.

But he can’t. He’s not allowed to, he isn’t a lover.

He is forced to be content with the hand on his cheek, a caress that sets his nerve endings on fire and leaves him craving more.

Too soon Oswald pulls back, letting go of his face in the process.

He is surprised by the intensity of his desire to pull him back, kiss him again and don’t stop until they both forget why this could never work.

Until he manages to forget that it’s not him Oswald wants to kiss, but anyone. That it’s all just because of another stupid trade. Although this time, he can’t deny that it was him that initiated it, and not Oswald.

Speaking of which, he seems a tad bit out of breath and deliciously disheveled, but otherwise annoyingly collected.

If it weren’t for the blush covering his cheeks and nose Jim might even have thought he was completely unaffected.

“That was certainly… interesting.”

Anytime, he wants to say. He doesn’t.

“Sure, you’re welcome.”

You’re welcome? What an astonishingly stupid thing to say after a kiss.

Oswald takes it in stride, as he always does, simply continuing the conversation as if Jim didn’t want to fold in on himself in embarrassment.

“Quite a surprising night it has been, hasn’t it?”

Hoping not to embarrass himself further, Jim settles on a noncommittal grunt.

“I’m afraid I have to go now though. Even though it has been so wonderful.”

“Trivial business?” He allows his voice to sound a tad bit taunting, pretty sure that Oswald is well aware he didn’t exactly buy into the story.

The crooked little smile he receives makes him want to punch a wall, because fuck. How could he do this to himself? How the absolute hell did he think it was a good idea?

He presses his fingernails into his palm with force, willing his hands not to reach out and pull Oswald in for another kiss, not to find out wether he can taste some lingering note of cherry too.

“No James. I’ve decided that my ”trivial business” might benefit from a little more careful strategic planning.”

“Good to hear.”

“I do appreciate you helping me realise that. And I appreciate you sharing this legendary rooftop hangout with me. It means a lot.”

Then stay the night, or at least another hour, he bites back, using up all his effort not to let it spill out.

Ignoring this line of thought, he jumps up, offering Oswald a hand.

It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly to keep him here against his explicit wish to leave.

And if he doesn’t exactly let go of his hand after pulling Oswald up, who are these gentlemen anyway, to criticise his behaviour? They’re dead.

“You… need to get back to the club, huh?”

Another one of these soft, unguarded smiles Oswald seems to have only for him.

“A nightclub doesn’t run itself James.“

Then, after a moment of consideration, he adds: “Not even if I really want it to.”

“Maybe we could do it again sometime? I know some nice rooftops, and I’d love to introduce you to some of the snacks my mother used to make for me.”

That’s almost certainly a bad idea. But it seems to be a night filled with those anyway, so what is one more?

In fact, he has plenty of bad ideas on the back burner, and the night is temptingly long still.

“Sure, I’d love to.”

In a spur of the moment decision, he takes up the bag of marshmallows, pressing them into Oswald’s hand.

“Here, take these.”

“Don’t you want to eat them yourself? I can easily buy my own.”

“You have plenty of marshmallow eating to catch up on,” he says, before giving a lopsided grin and adding “besides, they taste better on you anyway.”

And if Oswald hadn’t been blushing before, now he definitely is.

“Careful Jim, lest I jump to conclusions.”

Even now, his tone is controlled and even. It drives him crazy. Just what would it take to shake up this insufferably irritating man?

“About that kiss earlier. I’m afraid I did it wrong..”

Another one of these calculating looks, carefully weighing the possibility he might be telling the truth, before breaking into a smirk.

“Really? We did have a deal though. So perhaps you should try again.”

“Perhaps.”

This time it’s him who makes the first step, pulling Oswald closer, and going in for a passionate kiss.

Oswald isn’t shy either, if anything, he gives as good as he gets, hands wandering up and slipping underneath Jim’s shirt, all too eager to explore.

“See James, I’ve just decided that for all I care the club can run itself for a night.”

Jim smiles into the kiss, finally letting his own hands roam freely.

“That’s great to hear.”