#never worked in customer service you lucky bitch

[papa-evershed]

Thomas Barrow, Downton Abbey S05EP09

[melodic-haze]

hear me out brat!chiori x service top!reader where she teases you all the time both in public and private until you just cant take it anymore and finally snap and fuck her until shes sobbing from overstimulation and cant think or speak at all and only begging for you to breed her over and over again

☆ — DEMO TRACK: power bottom!Chiori x service top!gp!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: fem reader with a dick, overstim and.....tbf it's all up in the asks actually

☆ — NOTES: I really shouldn't have been given the ability to read and write idk but anyway I love mean lesbians 🫶 even though ik I'd be scared of them irl (I AM a mean lesbian idk what I'm on about)

Oh my god she's be an INSUFFERABLE brat though???? Not cuz she's cheeky and sly as hell, not like for example Miko, but bc she KNOWS she can easily tease and making you want what you Cannot Have

She'd drop her scissors on accident and bending down in a way that showcases her own specially made lingerie (mostly made with you in mind, though she reserves said special designs for your eyes only—she'd never admit it but designs for YOU and her customers are two completely different things 🤷‍♀️) or make you help her with something and then 'accidentally' grazing skin one way or another (nothing too disastrous, she can't jeopardise her work for ANYONE)

Chiori wouldn't outright say stuff plainly though cuz that's crass and she's much more classier than that, who do you think she is??? She WOULD outright make innuendos and double entendres with a glint in her eye and a mocking tone, however 💀 just to piss you off a bit

"Hold these steady for me, would you? You're capable of that much."

As you scrambled to pin down two bits of fabric on the mannequin, she pulls away with a light smirk. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly at the remark, "I'd like to think I'm a lot more capable than what you've been insinuating the entire day."

"Are you?" She turns away to head to her worktop, "I suppose that with my direction, you can.. well, satisfy basic needs."

"You say that like I'm not capable of directing myself."

"You would lack the necessary finesse to please me."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, "Thanks for the faith. But we both know you're downplaying what I can do."

"But do we?" The designer turns back to you, sewing equipment in hand and a nonchalant look in her gaze, "Perhaps I've been unimpressed with your performance thus far."

"Then you'd be complaining about me in every waking moment."

"Don't I already?"

"True. Someone really needs to shut you up every once in a while."

"Oh?" She approaches you.. and the mannequin, you supposed, "Mind supplying an example?"

"Uh, me? I think I'm in the best position to do so."

And your lover scoffs mockingly, "You're rather confident in thinking that you could force me down."

"I'm confident that I can put you in whatever position I want."

Perhaps there was something she saw in your eyes, a brief flash of something dark that flickered through for a second, but you see a light flush coat her cheeks as she lets out a shaky exhale.

"..Do tell yourself whatever helps you sleep at night," she airily responded as her hands pressed back onto the fabric, to which you took the action as a sign of a dismissal, "Archons know I'm not going to sing you praises or tuck you in at night."

"Hmm."

Ofc it's not limited to your outside interaction, cuz you're hashtag lucky to see it inside too!!!! Yippee!!!!!!!! Get your dose of irritation 🫶🫶 if you're a patient bitch as well then that's even worse cuz she may actually up the ante just for the sake of it in bed. In public she actually appreciates you being understanding with her bluntnese but in private? Lol have fun

It's not that she does it just cuz either, I think she'd do it for the sake of seeing just how much you can take until you snap. She seems like a believer of the whole "raw emotions = raw capability" thing, and she'd definitely test you more than once just to see how much you can take before you flip out

She doesn't say anything about how there's that hidden desire to see you turn things against her and actually put her in her place after she's being such a brat the entire day though

"Ngh..! I said to go-- sssslowER--"

"I.. don't think.. I'll listen to you right now," you managed to force out as you pinned her on the mattress, hammering the brat underneath you with your length as if desperate to paint her insides white.

At some point, your patience had eventually run out. She had this constantly challenging look in her eyes that followed her all the way to the bedroom, and her words had reflected on that too.

You wanted to please her, to satisfy her the way you knew you could, you swore.. but it always wasn't enough for her, or maybe you got it all wrong, or her demands were so unbearably contrasting despite the fact that you could have sworn that her reactions indicated that you were on the right track. Really, you just had no choice but to take matters in your own hands the same way you took this insatiable designer's hair, now loose from its usual style; hard and forceful.

Chiori's hands practically clawed the sheets, her small build helpless as you moved her like some sort of ragdoll—whyever would she fight it, though?

And as if used to obeying your commands, she does. She looks at the vanity mirror just a short distance away from the bed, looks at her ruined makeup smudged on her face, looks at the apex of her thighs that drip and glisten with a mix of her transparent essence and the backwash of your cum.

"This was what you've been aiming for, isn't it? I'm doing what-- fffuuck.. what you demanded of.. of me." You lifted her up without hesitation, with your other hand on her lower abdomen as you continued your relentless pace, "May as well.. mmf.. watch."

Perhaps there was something to the sight that snapped the last of her fighting composure in half—maybe it was the way you forced her to look at your live methods of discipline, maybe it was the way your dick hit a certain spot inside her due to the change in angle, or maybe it was the way you had looked at her in the mirror with a dark, heady mixture of lust and frustration.

Either way, it had her hips practically stuttering as she opened her mouth to scream.. only for nothing to come out save for a broken, cut-off start of such a sound. Her body for a brief moment before going limp and leaning back into you.

You also see—and feel—a deluge of hot liquid squirt out a certain distance and onto your still-moving cock.

Really, nothing about the situation or the reactions you're recieving is deterring you from overwhelming her more than enough to render her quiet and satisfied.

Even as her hands struggled to grip onto your own that's pushing into where her womb is located, where you're hitting her at your deepest, you didn't stop. Even as she sobbed and actually threw her sharp pride aside to plead for you to spare her from further overstimulation, you didn't stop.

Again, why would you? You're going to make sure she comes out of this sated.. even if that did mean fucking a few braincells out of your lover.

(Though with the way she was smiling whorishly, you have more than a feeling that she wanted you to do so.)

(..Not like you'd ever use such language aimed at her outside private walls, lest you want to experience her ire rather than her desire.)

Get it?? Cuz. Cuz like. Desire??? Des-ire?????? Haahahhahahahahah oh my god I think I'm gonna go ballistic one day

She loves being treated like a classy lady, she loves being treated like a queen, but she ALSO loves being roughhoused and railed to the moon and back—she's not a delicate bitch she can handle it 🤷‍♀️ just like how she Knows you can handle a bit of a bratty personality (though really such a thing should probably be guaranteed anyway to be with her without getting all ratty)

She'd call you a fuckign brute, she'd call you names, but at the end of the day all she'd want is for you to fill her and fuck her until nooooo coherent thought is left 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

It's satisfying at the end when you're done when Chiori's simply laying there, eyes completely glazed over as she struggles to get back to reality as you've painted her insides (and outsides tbh) white. Maybe this is your own artform, with Chiori's being clothing design AHAHAHA anyway 🫶

"So how'd I.. ugh," you unceremoniously flopped onto the bed, grimacing at the very wet sheets and the inevitable cleanup you're dreading of doing later, "how'd I do?"

"..."

"Chiori? Babe?"

"..Give me a minute, would you?" She groaned out hoarsely, her usual grace to her movements and edge to her voice gone and replaced with a much more.. relaxed, casual tone, you supposed, "Asking a girl to rate your performance after using her like a feral beast is in poor taste."

"Okay, but you more than asked for it, really."

"I don't recall doing such a thing."

"You're only especially difficult when you want that sort of treatment."

"I'm never difficult for no good reason."

You raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

Your girlfriend stares you down with a tired glare.. before relenting shortly after with an affectionate eyeroll, "I told no lie, I needed the break from..."

"Thinking?"

"Yes. Perhaps."

"Bad week?"

"Annoying clients."

"I can ward them away for you," you suggest as you opened your arms to her.

"No need—I can do so myself." You half expected her to keep you hanging until you decide to drop your arms.. but then she moves closer to you, eventually letting herself be enclosed in a hug, "..But thank you for the offer."

Any form of initial surprise from the acceptance in affection easily melts into that warm buzz that never fails to make you happy every time Chiori indulges in something remotely affectionate, "You're welcome."

..Perhaps clean-up can wait later.

The surprising thing would never be how bratty she is or how depraved she becomes with enough of a push tbh, but rather her showing blatant affection for you at any given time. Post-coital afterglow doesn't necessarily give her much of an extra urge to cuddle—if anything she's usually averse considering how sweaty and gross it'd feel to her after........but surprise affections are a very VERY welcome surprise :3

Tbh even then idk if sex is a common thing that happens between you, even when you're in a relationship 🤔 but it'd still be juicy either way. Something about how absence makes the heart grow fonder, except it just makes your cock go harder idfk LMAO

It's like 2 am rn guys this is my only explanation for all this

[impalanna]

Title: You found me

Pairing: Dean x Fem!Reader

Summary: This is a little piece I am working on for anyone who has ever had a fantasy of Dean coming to pick you up from work and take you away from all the crap of every day life. This is going to be a multi chapter fic, so it is going to take me some time to complete.

Warnings: Swearing, later on there’s going to be some NSFW stuff, bondage, p*rn gifs are going to be involved

I don’t know where I’m at in life. I am going through a nasty divorce, I feel like shit about my body, and my job doesn’t want to promote me even though I’m working my ass off to prove myself. Life just isn’t what it used to be.

I’m going through some of my old stuff on my day off, just trying to find something to occupy my racing mind. There’s a small box in my closet. I don’t touch that box, because it holds the memory of who I used to be. A happy go lucky girl, and with a “nothing to lose, so live life up attitude” and a beautiful, pain free smile. One that’s not forced. And him.

Dean Winchester. The man of all of my wildest dreams. There’s a picture of him and I in that box. We were both so happy, now he’s gone to who knows where and I’m left to deal with this shitty life and try to muddle through without him. I haven’t been doing so well.

I grab the box and I hold it in my hand, and I open it for the first time in a long time. I don’t know what made me want to open it, maybe it was just to see his smile. That was probably it. There’s writing on the back of it “I will be back for you, I love you.” Just another promise that I’m still waiting to be fulfilled.

***

At work today, I’m running like crazy to get everything done before our big bosses come in to do their monthly walk of the place. If you’re asking me I think the whole thing is stupid, considering they actually tell us they’re coming down so we have time to fix the place up. I have a thing against the managers here.

The dust on my hands makes them feel dryer than they already are. My hands are shaking from the cold, because, why the hell would they turn on the heat in this place anyway? It’s not like it’s cold or anything.

I drop the box that I was holding. “Son of a bitch.”

I pick it back up and put it where it belongs. Then I hear someone walk up behind me. I didn’t think anything of it considering this is a public place. It was probably some customer wanting to bitch about something, as they often do. That’s getting pretty old to be honest.

I sigh and then turn on my heel, mustering up my best fake customer service voice. “How can I help you today?” And there he was. Dean Winchester.

“Yeah, sweetheart, how ‘bout a lunch break?” His voice was so deep, which I loved. At the sound of his voice, I started crying. I felt like such a bitch, but I did.

“I missed you so much” I said between the tears rolling down my face. He wiped them away, just like he did when he told me he had to leave.

“Well I’m here now, and I missed you too.” His face was sincere. He looked so beautiful, way too good to be standing in this damn store in this shitty state.

All I wanted to do was hold him. I pulled him close to me, and I didn’t let go. I finally heard his heart beat again, I was finally listening to him breathe again. Two rhythms I thought I’d never experience after he left.

At this time my manager was peering around the corner. I didn’t give a crap at this point if I got fired or if they promoted me, Dean’s back and that’s all I’ve wanted. Nothing else really matters anymore. I just wish we could pack up and go out west somewhere and own a bar like we always wanted to. That would be so nice.

Dean kisses my forehead and looks at me. “I know what you’re going to ask, and I’m not ever leaving you again. I can’t do that.” He saw the look on my face, which was full of relief for the first time in a long time.

“Are you okay? What happened while you were gone? I thought you were -“ and I was cut off by my manager. Of course.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working on packing down Aisle 3?” The annoyed look on his face making the whole situation worse.

“Yeah, she’s busy right now buddy.” Dean said with the same annoyed tone that my manager was giving us.

“I quit.” The words came out before I could stop them, and then I felt sick thinking about the pile of bills I have back where I’m staying.

“You quit? You’re the only decent worker we have and you quit?” Desperation in his voice. Wow, that’s something I’ve never really heard before. I feel like a bad person but it kinda feels good to hear it.

“You heard her.” Dean says this before I can find my words. My manager walks away, throwing his hands up in the air as he leaves.

“Wow that felt so damn good” The words escape my tight jaw. “But now what am I going to do?” Thoughts are bubbling out of me but for some reason they have sound, and I realize I’m talking out loud.

“Well, sweetheart, you were a hunter before all this.”

“Damn right I was, but that was before all this.”

[edoro]

I see your idea that Hunter would be Terrible at retail/service work and Agree but would also like to purpose (tw for abuse/mentions of abuse):

:readmore:

Things retail/service work managers would love Hunter for:

-Never requests time off work (even if he's sick and really should) except like maybe 1 day a year, especially if other people ask for time off work (because then he's A Good Worker for not being like everyone else), because Belos was a bitch like that.

-Immediately obeys orders given, unless, like you said, they contradict The Rules. It's a constant battle between Doing What The Authority Figure Tells You, Without Question and (Also) Doing What The Authority Figure Tells You by following the rules.

Like. I honestly think if Hunter didn't have an Official Rulebook to read through first, he wouldn't even blink at obeying rules that make no sense or are even actively unsafe to him and/or the customers and/or his fellow coworkers, because That's What The Boss(es) Said To Do, so clearly it must be Right.

Hunter would be all at once every manager's wet dream and worst nightmare, all at once, and it all depends on what he learns The Rules are first.

-Hunter seems like the type that would avoid taking bathroom breaks, even if he really shouldn't.

-Same with even just minor breaks where you just lean against a wall. (Hypervigilance go nyoom.)

-Same with requesting holidays off (assuming his job even let's him do that.)

-Wouldn't even blink at coworkers being shitty to him + one another, especially when stressed, even if the job advertising gave out the whole "We're a family!" bit. Because that's exactly what "family" (and "friends", until he met Luz and the others) is to Hunter.

-Also, needless to say, retail/server work would be absolute hell on his mental health, but lolsob, it's not like that'd be anything new to him. Absolute king of hiding his facial expressions/emotional pain or anger, once A Person In Authority (that probably reminds him of Belos) yells at him enough.

-Wouldn't even be surprised or complain about being put on double shifts for weeks on end, because what do you mean working for 14 hours in one day (sometimes all at once, sometimes- if you're lucky- with a shift in between) for a week or weeks on end is something to complain about?? No, he hasn't gotten much sleep or eaten much and yes he's exhausted, but why would that stop him from coming in to work on time??

-Same with bosses making you work/stay in store during bad weather, up to and including things like hurricanes or earthquakes.

-Or bosses making him work off the clock, even if it means coming in early, because "it's company policy" and he wants to Be Good.

Basically being abused and raised in a fucked up military cult really does train you to be an excellent little wage slave, is what I'm saying.

Somebody please get this boy some therapy.

in the process of answering this i ended up on an only barely related digression about how i see Hunter's relationship to authority throughout the series, which i may or may not turn into its own post, but -

i think the interesting thing here is that, yeah, Hunter's been raised to essentially be the perfect little wage robot in a lot of ways. he's very used to taking orders and following authority, even at the cost of his own health/happiness/safety. but he's also been raised to command, and shitposting aside, i think that looking at "Hunter works retail" only through the lens of his obedience neglects a crucial piece of the puzzle, which is that he's only obedient like that to someone who he has decided has that authority over him.

so like if he decided that the manager at McDonald's had the ability to order him around or tell him to work 14 hours straight or whatever, yeah, he would do it without complaining. but one thing about Hunter is that he seems to have a really keen understanding of hierarchy and where he fits into any given situation, and he is used to being obeyed as well as to obeying. for a bit there, he was basically the 2nd most powerful person in the entire government! by the age of 16 he was used to commanding fellow soldiers!

so basically i think you'd end up with an issue of, like, attitude. Hunter absolutely has a ton of traits that would make him a very good worker in terms of productivity, but in terms of like, interacting with the public?

he would be so bad at that. he is absolutely not going to take shit from some random asshole who turned their brain off the second they walked through the doors of his workplace. it's like if you tried to put the drill sergeant from Full Metal Jacket at the Walmart guest service desk.

his managers get to order him around because They Are In Charge, He Is Below Them In The Hierarchy, and he has plenty of conditioning to reinforce that idea, but nothing in his life has prepared him for accepting the level of abuse and overall dipshittery from the general public that food service/retail workers are expected to take with a smile and never, ever react to.

put Hunter in like, a warehouse, or the back of the store, or have him stocking, or assign him to like, picking delivery/pick-up orders or something? he'd do amazing. anything that requires interacting with the general public? he's going to jail.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

An Officer and a Gentleman

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; oral, anal, cheating (sort of), name-calling.

This is dark!(silverfox)Lee Bodecker x (married)reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your after hours work gets in the way of your day job.

Note: I had the first half sitting around and finished it so here ya go. It takes place in the 70s so Lee is older and it was inspired by an article I read about the creation phone sex lines by a housewife in the 70s (which now of course I can’t flippin find). But anyway, here you go.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The sheriff sat down in his usual spot as you wiped your hands on the rag tucked into your apron. He set his hat on the table and tidied his greying hair. Even at his age, his locks were thick and looked soft. Strands of brown lined the shining silver and shone under the diner lights.

He came in at the same time every day, only an hour into your shift. You approached and flipped the cup on its saucer before you filled it. He took only sugar, no cream 

or milk. You smiled as you watched him read over the menu, he never ordered anything but the waffles.

“Good morning, sheriff,” you said as you held the carafe aloft. “Lookin’ to try something new?”

“‘Dols Leck’?” Lee Bodecker mispronounced the French words, “What’s that?”

“Dolce Leche,” you corrected, “It’s caramel.”

“Hmm.” He rubbed his ruddy cheek and reached for his mug. He drank and held out the menu. “Waffles with strawberry.”

“Extra cream,” you finished for him. He nodded and had another gulp as you walked away.

You put in his ticket after you replaced the coffee pot on the burner. You checked on the few other customers along the counter and wiped down the empty tables. The bell rang and you went to grab the sheriff’s breakfast from the window. You set the plate down before him as he folded the newspaper and replaced it in the little holder at the end of the table.

“How’s Eugene?” He asked as he unwrapped his cutlery. “And the boy?”

“Gene’s still on nights.” You lamented and subconsciously touched your stomach. “Little Ezra’s almost a year now.”

Your boy was buxom and buoyant. You smiled as you thought of his round cheeks and warm brown eyes. You only wished his father was around more to take him off your hip as you cooked and cleaned in your spare hours after work. Eugene was asleep as much as he was at the factory. You saw each other in passing as you scraped for ends meet.

Ezra was with Eugene’s mother during the day. You’d pick him up and take him home to wait for your husband to wake. If you were lucky, you got a kiss before he grabbed his lunch pail and headed out for his twelve hours. You hadn’t gotten more than that since before Ezra came. Neither of you had the time or energy, though the want was there.

“And you sheriff? How are you doing these days?” You asked before you could get lost in your self-pity.

“Ah, you know. The same old. Patrol’s ain’t too exciting.” He cut into the stack and licked his lips. He was a man with a sweet tooth, a substitute for his former alcoholic habit.

“Well, you enjoy, sheriff, you know how to get my attention.” You left him and did a round of refills for those eating and greeted the new arrivals.

Lee was always alone when he came in. He never brought any of his cadets or officers, he just sat, read the newspaper, and ate his waffles. He wasn’t married and had no children. Nearly fifty years on his back but he seemed content on his own. You almost envied him as you struggled with your small family.

🚔

You laid Ezra down carefully in his crib. He was getting big. You tickled his forehead and watched him for a moment before you left the room. It was late. Eugene was gone and the phone would ring soon. You had to prepare yourself for your night time duties.

It started small. An idea found in the pages of one of those feminist magazines, the very ones your husband called good kindling. A woman lost her job, still hard-fought for the domestic sex, and found herself in a similar way as yourself. Money was always needed and harder to come about. So she started her own service for the lonely men. A phone line with illicit intentions.

You read about it in the late stages of your pregnancy and laughed at the idea. It was so stupid. So scandalous. But once you were back to work and Eugene was on the late shift, you grew lonely and your checkbook was harder to open.

You hand wrote the little cards after a visit to the phone company. Eugene didn’t know about the second line. The number redirected to your main line and was active for only three hours a night, after your husband was gone. It was registered as a commercial line so each incoming call was billed to the dialer and a percentage was refunded on your own invoice.

You left the number around town, certain not to be seen as you dropped the cards in the car shop and the bar. At least, you hoped you hadn’t been seen.

The first night had you addled and sleepless until your shift began at the diner. It was hard to keep up the sultry voice and the lies. Difficult to act like the whole thing didn’t make you cringe. The men called and said their dirty words as you encouraged them with moans and little prods. “Oh yes, baby.” or “Tell me more.” It felt like you were cheating on your husband but it kept his plate full and the house warm.

The phone didn’t ring right away that night. Later in the week, you got more calls but one or two was better than none. The real profit was keeping them on the line as long as you could, but there were times you had to end abruptly to see to your wailing child.

You were half-asleep when the first call came in. You fumbled with the receiver and batted away your fatigue with your lashes. You held in a yawn and your sleepiness added to the allure of your put-on voice.

“Hello, mister, what are you longing for tonight?” You laid back on your pillow and played with the spiral cord.

“Well, I…” You blinked and held the phone against your ear. He sounded familiar, as many of the men did, but his timbre made your ears prick sharply. “I don’t know. I never did nothing like this before.”

You squinted and thought. You knew him but you couldn’t place the twinge in your head.

“I can start for you, darling,” you offered. “Mmm, tell you what I would do to you?”

He cleared his throat and you heard movement. He was nervous. So many of the men sounded the same. Most of them were afraid of being caught by their wives or uncertain about their desires. At first, you had the same fears but had since grown indifferent. It was human nature, as natural as one’s instinct to quench their thirst for water.

“How do you like it, darling? You like it when a lady bends over? I like it like that. Or maybe you want to start with me on my back.”

He groaned and you heard the receiver scratch. He let out a strained breath and moved the phone to his other hand.

“I want to use your mouth.” He said at last. His voice was low and gristly. “I want to push your head down in my lap as I choke you with my cock.”

You stared at the ceiling as you reclined and hummed. “Oh yeah.”

“Shut up.” He snarled. “I don’t want to hear your voice, I just want your mouth on me until you can’t fucking breathe. I want to hear you struggle. I was your tears streaming down your face and salting the taste of me on my tongue. I want to hold you down and cum until it’s deep in your belly.”

You parted your lips and raised your brows. You were still focused on trying to recognize the voice. His tone made you quiver. He was more forceful than most men. A lot of them just talked about sucking on your tits or went straight to fucking.

“I’d love that, darling.” You lied and bent one leg over the other as you swayed your foot.

“I said shut up!” He hissed. “I want to hold you down with my hands around your neck. I want to fuck you until your screaming. I’ll fuck you until you bleed. Until you beg for me to cum again.”

His breath was furious and you heard something else. The phone was moving against his chin as he moaned and you were certain you could hear his hand somewhere else; lower. It set your cheeks on fire and you sat up. His voice, his breath, the sheer anger and lust laced in his rasps. Your throat tightened as if he was truly choking you.

“But I want to cum in your ass. I want to make it hurt. I want you to cry as I tear you apart from the inside.” He growled and coughed as his voice fizzled out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He stroked himself furiously and the receiver dropped with a thump and you flinched. “Fucking bitch, yeah, you want my cock deep in your ass. Fucking whore.”

Your fingers hurt as you gripped the phone tightly and listened. His curses streamed steadily until the line clicked and died suddenly. You lowered the receiver and stairs at the little whole clustered together on the mouthpiece. You set it in the cradle and turned to sit on the edge of the bed.

It was unlike any call you’d had. It was terrifying and made your blood curdle. You felt as if it had actually happened as your chest was heavy and your heart raced. You blew out a shaky breath and reached to silence the ringer. 

That was enough for the night.

🚔

The next day at the diner, you couldn’t stop yawning. You hadn’t slept much as the call replayed in your head over and over. The man’s voice was so clear in your mind and every time you started to drift off, he spoke in your ear. You dragged the rag over the top of the counter as Amelia spoke with the elderly couple in that corner.

The door chimed and you looked up. Sheriff Bodecker took off his hat as he entered and nodded at you. With the coffee pot in hand, you went to his table, already set for his arrival. You wished him a good morning and filled his cup. His voice was thick as he muttered his response and picked up the menu. He looked as tired as you felt.

“Strawberry, sheriff?” You prompted.

“Hmm,” he scratched his chin, stubbly from a missed shave. “This Dolsay Leckay. I’ll try that today.” He held out his menu. “I’m trying new things this week.”

You took the menu stiffly and nodded. “Waffles with dolce leche sauce. Right away, sheriff.” 

You turned and walked off to write out his ticket. You returned the coffee pot to its place and set down the menu as you took out your pad and pen. Your hand shook as you scribbled out the order. You stuck it in the window and leaned on the counter.

It couldn’t be him. You were crazy. You didn’t get enough sleep and you were wanting to hear that voice everywhere. Your reassurances were weak and only made you shiver as you righted yourself and continued wiping down the tables.

You angled yourself to look at the sheriff as he squinted down at the newspaper. He stuck his tongue out as he read to poke his top lip and tilted his head coyly. He cleared his throat and coughed as his order rang in the window. 

You went to grab the plate and struggled not to fumble it. It was him. The way he coughed, the gravelly scratch of his throat, the deep and firm undertone. You couldn’t deny it was him. You were stunned you hadn’t recognized him at once.

“There you are, sheriff,” you said as you set down his plate. “Enjoy.”

“I think I will,” he rubbed his hands together. “I’m starving this morning.”

“If you need anything,” you made your usual offer.

He looked at you and smiled. You noticed how his eyes strayed to your name tag and the buttons of your blue dress. He turned to his waffles and took out the knife and fork.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said as he ran the tines of the fork through the dark caramel. “I think I’m just fine.”

You left him to eat and straightened your apron. You were confident you’d changed your voice enough that he didn’t have the same epiphany. Even so, everything about him was different. At least in your head. He was no longer the desolate sheriff, he was desperate and demanding. He wasn’t who you thought he was. He was a man with a lot of power and a hunger to use it.

🚔

It was several days before you dared to leave the ringer on after Eugene’s departure. Your husband was loving but almost entirely absent. Since Ezra was born, he’d only grown more distant and work could not excuse him completely. When you ate dinner late with him, he barely heard you as he kept the radio on and those nights he didn’t work, he didn’t touch you.

You felt worse for your own misdeeds. The phone line made you shy and sullen with him. You should tell him but you didn’t know how and truly, you couldn’t. You knew he wouldn’t take it well and even if he was barely there, you couldn’t lose him. You were already painfully alone.

That night, he volunteered for overtime and so you hardly saw him before he headed out. He said you needed the money but your books were well balanced from your own after hours work. You’d done it to take the burden off of him but he still took the extra time, even as you argued that your bills were in good standing. 

Was it you? When had it all grown so cold?

Ezra ate his mashed peas and you set him down for the night. You heard him cooing still but you kept to your schedule even when he was wide awake. He always tired himself out and never fussed very long.

You sat on your bed and read. You checked the time. The phone would start soon and that night you couldn’t leave it off. You needed the money and you couldn’t be picky about where it came from. The month would be over and there would be a whole new batch of debts to account for.

You jumped as it rang. You kept the volume low so it didn’t carry through the whole house and you answered after several rings. You gave your usual greeting and breathed a sigh of relief when it was one of your regulars. You closed your book and picked your nails as you went along with his routine.

When he finished, you wished him a good night. You were dead tired but one more call wouldn’t hurt. You waited and grabbed the receiver on the first ring.

“Hello, mister, what are you looking for tonight?” You made your voice higher and breathier.

“Shhhh.” The long hush chills your veins. “Don’t talk.”

You quivered. It was him. You looked at the phone cradle.

“Don’t hang up.” He said as if he could read your mind. “You want it, don’t you? You want to feel me inside you. Down your throat, fucking the whore out of you.”

“I…” you uttered.

“I said be quiet.” He barked. “I want my cock so far down your throat I can feel it as I choke you. I want your spit all over me, I want you gasping and gulping until you pass out and I’m fucking your mouth lifeless.”

Your eyes widened and you listened in disgust. He growled and his hand slapped off his thigh as he pleasured himself. You sit paralysed as fear bubbled in your chest and you felt as if he could see you. You crossed your legs and huddled down over the receiver.

“I want to fuck your cunt until it hurts to sit down. I want to hear my body slam into yours, I want you to beg me to stop and keep going at the same time. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t make a noise, until all you can hear is my cock pounding inside of you.”

“Please…” You wanted him to stop. You wanted to hang up and yet you were terrified to move.

“And I know you want it too, whore. I know you need it. Not these words, not these calls, but you need me,” he shuddered “and I need it just as bad.”

He grunted and the line grew still. He hissed and cursed. 

“I’m a fucking mess,” he sneered. Another silence and you think he hung up. His voice startled you when he spoke again. “Who’re ya?”

“Wh-what?”

“I ain’t stupid. You’re some lady in the county. Maybe some lonely housewife. Ain’t sound like no prostitute I ever knew.” He sniffed and let out a groan. “Maybe you some dumb teenager playin’ games on the telephone, huh?”

“I don’t-- No. I--” You hung up. 

You stood and pulled the line out of the phone and dropped down heavily. You put your head in your hands and shook it. Fuck!

🚔

The next morning at the diner, you served the sheriff with a false smile. Every time he spoke, you heard the words he said to you on the phone. Although his tone was placid, his fervour played over and over in your ears. And when you overpoured his coffee, you apologized only to have him assure you it was alright and let you mop up the mess with your rag.

He left you his usual tip and you cleared his table. The newspaper was tinged from your spill and you dumped it on his plate. As you did, a card slipped out onto the table and your handwriting stared back at you from the carefully cut rectangle. You hid it quickly in the newspaper and rushed to toss it all in the trash and drop the plate in the bin.

It must have been a mistake, you assured yourself and excused yourself for a breath of air. The chef, Carson, was already by the kitchen doors and you said yes to a smoke from his pack. You lit it after the third try and inhaled the tobacco deep into your chest. You would go to the phone company tomorrow on your day off and shut down the second line. Your lesson was learned. It wasn’t worth the spare pennies.

Your day dragged by as all you could think of was the line. When you got to the phone company, you were jittery with worry. It was easy enough to shut it down but the fee cost you your tips for the day. You checked the clock before you left, bound to be a few minutes late picking up Ezra.

As you came out onto the street, your open jacket flapped in the wind over your uniform and your mary janes clacked on the pavement as you rushed to get to Enid’s and pick up your son. When you stopped at the corner to wait for traffic to pass, a flash and a honk made you jump.

Sheriff Bodecker pulled up to the curb and rolled down his window. He waved and leaned his arm on the door as he peered out at you.

“You needa ride?” He asked.

You smiled awkwardly and clutched the handles of your weathered purse.

“Sheriff, no thank you, I’m not goin’ too far,” you waved him off.

“Nonsense, you on your feet all day. It’s the least I can do.”

“You must be busy.”

“Radio ain’t goin’ off,” he slapped the door, “now come on.” He reached down and opened the door, stepping out with a groan, “Get in. You always are so nice down at the diner.”

You swallowed and your lips quivered as you tried to hold your smile. You followed him around the other side of the car as he opened the door for you. You got into the vintage cruiser and crossed your legs as you cradled your purse on your lap. He closed the door and dropped in on the other side.

He shifted into gear and pulled off. You thanked him and fiddled with clasp of your purse.

“No problem, but uh, I just needa know where you’re goin’,” he chuckled as he slowed at the next four way.

“Oh, I gotta get Ezra from his gramma’s,” you explained, “She lives just down Carsbee.”

“Not far at all,” he commented as he turned the wheel, “So, how was the rest of your day then?”

“Not so bad,” you said breathily as he looked at you in his mirror and you focused on the pedestrians on the street, “and yours, sheriff?”

“You can call me Lee if ya like,” he offered, “And wasn’t so bad either. Which number is it, sweetheart?”

You sniffed at the pet name, he was usually so formal at the diner with his ma’ams.

“21B,” you answered as you wiggled your foot nervously, “you can just drop me off. It’s not too far to home.”

“Don’t be silly, I wanna meet your boy,” he intoned, “you talk about him so much.”

“Oh, uh, of course,” you murmured as he pulled up along the front of your mother-in-law’s, “I just gotta go get him then.”

You hooked your purse over your elbow and slid over the seat. The sheriff kept you from opening the door as he bid you stay and got out quickly as he rushed around the front of the car. He opened the door like a gentleman and removed his hat. 

“I’m old but I haven’t forgot my manners,” he nodded and waited for you to step out.

You got to your feet and thanked him again before you strolled up the crooked walk to the front door. You knocked and let yourself in like you always did. You could hear Ezra babbling as he played with wooden toy cars. Enid sat in her usual spot and rocked as she watched him.

“How was he today?” You asked as you grabbed the bag you always left with him and packed up the loose ends beside it.

“Loud,” Enid muttered, “hyper.”

“Well, he’s at that age,” you grasped your purse and Ezra’s bag in one hand and picked him up from the floor as he reached out for you. “Alright, Ez, say buh bye to grammy.”

He waved and cooed as you held him on your hip. Enid said buy in her grumpy way and got up to see you to the door. You came down the single step as Lee waited by his cruiser. Ezra buried his face in your shoulder as he turned away from the sheriff.

“Don’t be shy, Ezra, this is the sheriff, Mr. Bodecker,” you tried to shake him upright but he clung to you and hid.

“Ah, don’t worry, I’m used to that,” Lee laughed and opened the door, “people see the badge and they’re not so friendly.”

“He just goin’ through a phase,” you assured as you sat with Ezra in your lap.

As Lee shut the door, you let the bags lean against it and the car dipped as he got in the other side. He turned the engine and you gave him your own address as your son squirmed in your lap. At the first corner, Ezra found the courage to look at the sheriff and the officer looked back and stuck out his tongue.

“He looks like you,” Lee said as he pushed down on the pedal, “real cute.”

You accepted the compliment and hugged Ezra tighter. You could barely process the sheriff’s words as your mind returned to those he spoke the night before. Every time he spoke, you heard him, hissing and cussing at you.

You were relieved when he came up to your house and you turned to grab your bags. You felt a tug on your elbow as you balanced Ezra and your things. You looked back at Lee as he held your arm.

“I’ll get the door,” he said, “you just stay put.”

You waited as he let you go and once more, opened the door for you. He took the bags as you climbed out and you protested that you were fine. His hand settled on your shoulder as he pulled you to face him.

“Well, sweetheart, you gonna invite me in for some coffee?”

You were shocked by his boldness and couldn’t hide it. You blanched and looked at Ezra as he tugged at your jacket. You laughed awkwardly.

“Eugene’s still sleepin’ for his shift, I don’t--”

“We got some things to discuss and I think the least you can do after I was so kind as to drive you home is a coffee.”

You squinted at him in confusion. “Maybe another time, sheriff, I’d really hate to wake--” you reached for your bags and he stopped you with his grip firm on your wrist.

“Does he know?” Lee asked in a gristly voice.

“Know what?”

“Know you a whore?” Lee sneered.

You reeled and tried to twist from his grasp. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You can’t say them words on the phone and not mean ‘em,” he leaned in close, “Now I think you know what I want to talk with you about so you invite me in and I’ll be real nice about it but if you keep me out here, I can’t promise your neighbours won’t get a show.”

You pouted and rocked Ezra as he began to fidget, sensing your discomfort. “Please, I got Ezra--”

“You put him in the next room so we can discuss,” Lee insisted.

He let go of you and you nodded dumbly. You watched him wearily as you turned and led him up the walk. You unlocked the front door and he followed you inside. He hung his hat on the rack with his leather jacket and you hurried into the bedroom to set Ezra down in his crib. You distracted him with his stuffed rabbit and left him. He was usually due for a nap around then anyway.

When you got back to the front room, Lee sat on your couch and you went to the kitchen to start the coffee. You waited for the water to boil and filled the percolator as you dreaded what would come next. You poured a mug and set it out on the coffee table with the sugar dish. 

Lee leaned forward and spooned the sweet powder into his mug as you stood and wrung your hands. How had he figured it all out? How long had he known? Was he going to tell Eugene?

“Sit,” he said as he inhaled the savoury scent and took a cautious sip. His mug made a deafening clink as he set it down and you sat. “I s’pose you went by the phone company to end your little game.”

You sucked your lip in nervously and nodded as you looked down guiltily.

“Mhmm,” he hummed, “you know I was down there a few days ago and they just hand the records over if I say I got a warrant. They ain’t look close enough to realise it’s just a receipt.”

You gulped and kept your head down. You ran your tongue against your lip and blinked away the moisture in your eyes.

“How long you been doin’ all that?” he asked.

“Couple months,” you admitted, “I just needed some extra money. Ever since Ezra was born…”

“But you could get another job.”

“I gotta be home for the boy. Eugene never is.”

“Now a woman don’t be talkin’ like that if she happy. If she not alone.”

“Stop, please. It was a mistake. I’m sorry if you feel like I--”

“Sorry?” he interrupted, “you’re sorry? You think Gene would accept that?”

You sat in silence and picked at the button on your jacket. You hadn’t even bothered to take it off. “You gonna tell him?”

He let out a heavy breath and took another drink of coffee. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

You looked at him and furrowed your brow in confusion. You shook your head as he smirked.

“I will if you make me but if you want me to stay quiet--”

“Sheriff--”

“Shhhh,” he raised a finger, “now, you want me keep my mouth shut, you be waitin’ for me tonight after he goes.”

You stared at him in terror as your heart threatened to jump up your throat.

“And then we’re done talkin’. Then you do all those things we spoke about.”

“You can’t-- I got a son.”

“And a husband but you still be talkin’ to strange men about your pretty little pussy, don’t you?”

You blew a shaky breath between your trembling lips and sank down in the chair in shame. “I thought you were a good man, sheriff.”

“I am, don’t mean I’m not lonely.”

He drained the rest of the mug and coughed. He stood and adjusted his belt, his hand lingering on his belt. You watched his finger trace the barrel and your eyes crept up to his face.

“I’d hate to wake your husband, sweetheart, so I’ll be on my way.” he retreated around the couch and paused by the door, “but I’ll be around.”

🚔

The night went by faster than any. You never felt like you got much time with your husband but it was almost as if he was gone as soon as he woke. He left you with a peck on your forehead and dread in your chest. You thought of telling him, you wanted to confess and fix everything that had broken, but you couldn’t. You were too ashamed.

So when he was gone, you put Ezra down for the night and hoped the Sheriff was just trying to scare you. He couldn’t be serious, could he? You’d known him for years and he was only every sweet at the diner. He was a solitary man but was never unkind. That afternoon, he had been an entirely different man.

You sat on the couch, no radio, no nothing, and picked at the lines of your hand. You were certain you would sit up all night and laugh at yourself in the morning. He was just making sure you stopped, that had to be it.

But then the knock came and your whole body went rigid. You waited until it sounded again, harder, louder. You got up and went to the door. You didn’t need to look out to know who it was. You opened up and Lee watched you with his menacing blue eyes. They were no longer the gentle gems you knew from the diner.

“Sweetheart,” he drawled as he stepped inside and you backed away from him.

He closed the door and locked it then he removed his hat and jacket, just as he had earlier. He bent to ease off his boots and stood as he cleared his throat. He peered behind you and looked around your small house.

“I’m just in time, huh?” he mused as he touched your side and let it slip down to your hip. “What you shakin’ for?”

“I thought…” you rasped. “Sheriff, you know me. I’m not a bad woman.”

“You ain’t?” he snickered. “I do know you. I’m the only one in the county who knows the real you.”

“I don’t understand why you’re doin’ this,” you whined.

“I’m old but not decrepit,” he took your hand and raised it, “and you’re a beautiful woman. I daresay,” he kissed the back of your hand, “motherhood did make you even sweeter.”

“Please,” you begged.

“You get in that bedroom before I lose the last of my will,” he bit his lip as he looked you up and down and released your hand.

You shivered and backed away from him. You went blindly to the bedroom and stopped in the doorway. You couldn’t, not in the bed you shared with your husband. Lee came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle.  His hot breath tickled your ear as he leaned into you.

“I wanna see what you hide under that dress,” he purred, “now don’t make me ruin it.”

You gasped and drew away from him. You neared the foot of the bed and unbuttoned the top of your dress. Your fingers were ungainly as you struggled and you pushed the sleeves down your arms with a stifled sob. You shoved the fabric past your waist and hips and his growl made you stand upright with a snap.

Your stockings were held up by fraying garters and your old underwear added to your shame. Your brasserie was pointed and too tight. You hung your head and balled your hands into fists.

“Turn around, I wanna see you,” he said.

You reluctantly obeyed and stared at the floor. He hummed and his thumb ran over his belt buckle. A sudden cry made your blood cold and he scowled. Ezra was awake.

You moved to go to him and the sheriff blocked the door.

“I gotta go to him. He must’ve had a bad dream.”

“I’ll take care of the boy. You just be waitin’ when I get back.” he ran his tongue under his teeth, “naked.”

He pointed to the bed and didn’t leave until you took several steps back. You listened as he went to the small room attached to the master. You worried he might hurt the boy but his coaxing voice surprised you. 

“Shhh,” you heard the distant tone, “it’s okay, son, it’s okay.”

You reached to unhook your bra and sat to roll your stockings off. You needed this man gone. If you abided him, he would be away sooner. You dropped the last of your clothing to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. Your nails dug into the blankets and you closed your eyes.

It was over a year since you’d been touched. That alone made you shy but that man made you terrified. You heard him enter but didn’t look up at him. “You get up on all fours and ready that mouth for me.” he ordered as you heard his buckle tink, “yeah, I wanna start there.”

You swallowed and did as he said. You felt like some lowly animal as you stared at the floor. You heard the flutter of fabric as he stripped and when he came close, you shut your eyes. He grabbed your hand and jerked you to the edge. He tapped the tip of his cock along your lips.

“Now, open up, sweetheart,” he snarled, “I know you remember every word I said.”

You parted your lips and he forced his way into your mouth. He poked at the back of your throat but didn’t relent. You gagged as he sank down your throat and your entire body twitched. His hand went to your neck as he drew back and pushed back in. He felt himself as he invaded your throat over and over.

“Ah, yes, that’s it,” he uttered, “you can’t tell me you’re not a whore. You take me like one.”

You tried to swallow around him and breath and it made him groan. He kept fucking your face as his hand squeezed your throat. Your spit spilled out and smeared across your face and his pelvis. He kept your head bobbing until you were dizzy and dazed.

He stopped, deep down your throat, and grunted. He let out a shuddery breath and pushed you off of him. You slipped down onto your stomach and gasped over the side of the bed.

“Hoo, I almost blew,” he huffed, “oh, you bad, bad girl.” He trailed his hand down your back and slapped your ass, “turn around and get back up.”

You whimpered and lifted yourself back to your knees. You moved stiffly around and wiped your mouth as the taste of him stained your tongue. He grabbed your hips and pulled you back. He kneaded your ass with hungry growls and pinched your thigh. He felt along your cunt and tutted.

“You wet for me,” he taunted, “just from a taste, sweetheart.”

You dropped your head and he moved closer. He pressed the head of his dick against your folds and ran it up and down as you slickened. He lined up with your entrance and his large hand gripped your hip. He slid into you with a sigh and you let out a startled cry. Maybe it was because it was so long but he felt massive. You quivered around him and clenched your teeth.

“Oh, fuck, you want it just as bad as me, don’t ya?” He bucked his hips and you exclaimed, “how am I suppose to hold back with you squeezin’ me like that?”

He didn’t hold back as he caught his stride. He hammered into you as your flesh slapped loudly. You feared the noise would wake your son again, or worse, be heard by the neighbours. He groaned and grunted as he rammed into you and your thighs quaked. Ripples rolled over your spine and multiplied down your legs.

He stretched his hand over your back and slid them up to your shoulders. He bent over you as he forced your arms to fold beneath you and pushed your head into the mattress. He stilled and wiggled his hips until you moaned. He pulled one hand away from your shoulder as the other spread over your neck.

He slid out of your cunt and spread your juices up and down. He guided his dick between your cheeks and leaned into to pant in your ear. “I didn’t forget about your ass.”

He pushed against your hole and you tensed. His hand tightened on your neck and he poked harder. 

“You relax or it’ll hurt more,” he coaxed, “come on, almost…”

He pushed past your ring and you both gasped. Your eyes filled with tears and you sniffed as he urged himself deeper past your resistance. He let out a long breath as he advanced inch by inch. He drew back each time before adding more and when he was at his limit, you sobbed and clawed at the mattress.

“Oh, oh, fuck, oh, shit,” he swore as he rocked his hips, “you know, urgh, I wanted to do this for so long. Even ‘fore I called.”

He growled and built a steady pace as he stretched you. Your tears seeped into the blanket as his grip threatened to break your neck. His belly bounced against the top of your ass as he rutted without restraint.

“I always thought ‘bout you over that table. Always thought-- Always thought you deserved better than that husband,” he rasped out, “but I never thought you’d feel so good.”

He slammed into you harder than before. Your legs fell out from beneath you and he was quick to descend over you, covering you with his body as he bent his arm across the back of your head. He fucked you into the mattress as your head began to spin and your body reacted to his.

You’d never felt anything so intense as the maelstrom of pain and pleasure building inside you. You moaned and muttered until the sudden tide swept you up and had you murmuring like a fool, drooling onto the bed as he kept on.

He planted his hand on either side of you and lifted himself. He dropped his hips down into your ass over and over. The symphony of flesh filled your mind and you succumbed to the afterglow of tortured delight. He sank as far as he could and spasmed.

“Shit, oh, sweetheart, sweetheart,” he slowed and lowered his sweaty body onto you. You suffocated beneath him as his heart beat against your back. “Oh, you made me… made me blow.” He tilted his hips. “You feel how I filled your ass?”

You let out shallow breaths and turned your face into the blanket. He grunted and raised himself off of you, his cock slipping out easily and his cum trickling down after. He fell onto his back beside you and tried to catch his breath. He reached over blindly and let his fingertips dance along your ass.

“Really it ain’t your fault,” he said as his fingers crawled along the top of your thigh, “a man must be crazy to leave you all alone at night.”

[omoi-no-hoka]

A friend told me that when a native Japanese comments on your Nihongo speaking by saying きれいな言葉 (kirei na kotoba), it's not really a compliment and is contrary to what the phrase literally means. If this phrase is directed to someone, what's the most polite reaction/action that the person should have/do next?

Hmm. This is a very interesting ask. I wonder if your friend is a Japanese person or a non-native speaker, because it’s not a compliment I’ve heard much. To be honest, receiving praise about my Japanese is a huge pet peeve of mine, so I’d like to delve into this topic a little bit. Let me talk about why they praise us even when all we say is a simple “arigatou,” and then how you can respond to that praise.

Note: You will see me refer to “foreigners” (a.k.a. “Non-Japanese people) as “gaijin” in this article. “Gaijin” （外人） is a truncated version of “gaikokujin” 外国人 (a person from outside of Japan). By removing the middle “koku” (country), we are left with the word gaijin, which literally translates to “outsider.”

Some people see this as an offensive term, and I am one of them. So when I use the word “gaijin,” I do it order to highlight how foreigners are truly viewed as “outsiders” in certain circumstances by certain Japanese people. 

Note 2: You are WAY more likely to receive praise if you clearly do not look Japanese. This post is told from my perspective, a girl so white she freaking glows in the dark.

Stereotypes of Gaijin Held by Japanese People

If you go to Japan and try to use Japanese, no matter how fluent or non-fluent you are, you will be complimented on your Nihongo by Japanese strangers. Japanese people are very quick to give compliments even if all you say is a simple “arigatou gozaimasu.” As a people they are polite and complimentary, and they appreciate even small gestures like you taking the time to learn “arigatou” even though you’re a tourist, for example. Some of these compliments are sincere, and other times they say it because even if your Japanese isn’t good, at least you’re trying, and they appreciate the effort. 

There are quite a few TV shows in Japan that capitalize on gaijin in Japan, such as “YOU wa nani shi ni Nippon he?” (Why did YOU come to Japan?) in which they scavenge for interesting gaijin at airports and follow them on their trips. (I was once picked up for this show, but when I was like, “Yo I’m just going back home to Hokkaido and starting up work tomorrow,” they were like, “oh, you are not the gaijin image that we want to show Japan” and ditched me lol.)

Basically, most of these shows like to capitalize on a very particular image of gaijin:

They cannot speak Japanese, or at most can only speak broken Japanese, and they certainly can’t read Japanese

They cannot use chopsticks well

They do not like/fully appreciate Japanese food, like raw fish, meat, or eggs

They generally do not understand Japanese customs. (I watched one episode about a hippie dude who was walking around Japan BAREFOOT. BAREFOOT. ENTERING SHOPS AND PLACES WITHOUT SHOES ON, FEET FILTHY. He said, “Japanese people are so nice--no one minds if I come in barefoot.” THEY DO MIND, YOU INGRATE. THEY’RE JUST TOO POLITE TO TELL YOU TO GET THE EFF OUT. Who knows how many Japanese people think that Americans think it’s okay to walk around barefoot now, even though we have “No shoes no shirt no service” signs everywhere for this very purpose!)

Only 3% of the Japanese population is non-Japanese. This means that many, many Japanese people have never met a gaijin in person and base their assumptions of us entirely off the media and the stereotypes proliferated there. 

One of the things Japanese people (and most other people in the world, for that matter) mistakenly believe is that Japanese is the hardest language in the world to learn. 

Real talk: from an unbiased, purely linguistic standpoint, there is no such thing as a “hard” or “easy” language. There is such a thing as “linguistic distance,” which measures how much one language and another differs. For example, Italian and Spanish share so much grammar and similar vocabulary that their distance is short. Conversely, there is a substantial linguistic distance between Spanish and Korean.

However, a short linguistic distance does not equal “easy to learn.” 

Japanese is quite distant from all languages other than Korean. And yeah, kanji’s a bitch. I won’t argue with you there. But from personal experience, as a native English speaker, I found German harder to learn than Japanese, despite German being much linguistically closer to my native language. It all varies from person to person. 

But many Japanese people will tell you, “Japanese is so hard, isn’t it? It’s so impressive that you can speak it. It’s the hardest language.” And then their eyeballs drop out of their sockets when you tell them that you can read tHe KaNjI as well. 

Many Japanese people are convinced that not only is Japanese the hardest language in the world, but also almost no foreigners are able to speak it. This, coupled with their culture of politeness, leads them to be quick to praise our use of Japanese, no matter how good or bad it is. 

And therein lies my pet peeve with quick praise. Just a simple “arigatou gozaimasu” and some Japanese people will fawn over how sugoi your nihongo is, and in my eyes it sort of diminishes the actual level of sugoi my nihongo is. If that makes sense lol. I guess I just wish that people would treat me like a fellow Japanese person instead of a gaijin.

Common Praise

Here are some common phrases you might hear if someone is impressed with your Japanese, listed roughly from most common to least:

日本語がとてもお上手ですね！ Nihongo ga totemo ojouzu desu ne! You are very good at Japanese!

日本語ペラペラですね！ Nihongo perapera desu ne! You’re fluent in Japanese!

日本人みたいに喋れるじゃん！ Nihonjin mitai ni shabereru jan! You can speak just like a Japanese person!

日本人より日本語喋れるじゃん！ Nihonjin yori nihongo shabereru jan! You speak Japanese better than Japanese people do!

ナマリがまったくない！ Namari ga mattaku nai! You don’t have an accent at all!

発音がきれいです！ Hatsuon ga kirei desu! Your pronunciation is beautiful!

綺麗なお言葉です。 Kireina okotoba desu. You speak beautifully.

Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard that last compliment before. To me, it sounds a little...stiff. Like maybe something an employee at a store would say to the customer who is trying to talk to them, and the employee is trying to be polite, but may not be 100% sincere. Sometimes that stiff, formal Japanese hides a person’s true warmth, though, so it’s a bit hard to tell. 

How to Respond to Praise

In America, if you are praised, it is common to reply with a “Thank you,” and then you can follow that up with a sign of humility or pride, like “Thank you, but I still have a lot to learn,” or “Thank you, I’ve been studying for a few years now!”

However, in Japan, you do not thank them. Instead, you contradict them. If someone says, “You are very good at Japanese!” you are meant to say “No, I’m not at all.”

This is not only limited to praise regarding Japanese. If someone says your outfit looks cute, you should say something like, “Really? This shirt is so old it’s about to get holes in it.” If someone says you are good at sports you should say, “Oh no, I’m terribly clumsy. Today must be a lucky day.” For example.

If they continue to praise you a second time, deny it again. 

If they praise you a third time, then you can say something like, “It’s thanks to you,” or “I’ve had a lot of help to get to this point.” Basically, you make sure that you are not prideful, and you give credit to those around you.

Japanese culture appreciates humility over pride, and puts others before oneself. These two facets of culture greatly shape nearly every social interaction.

Here are some things you can say if someone praises your Japanese:

いえいえ、まだ勉強中です！ Ie ie, mada benkyou-chuu desu! No no, I’m still learning!

いえいえ、まだまだです。 Ie ie, mada-mada desu. No no, I still have a long way to go.

いえいえ、そんなことないです。 Ie ie, sonna koto nai desu. No no, not at all.

My favorite is the “benkyou-chuu” one, because I’ll be studying Japanese until the day I die. 

As an extra little thing to make you even more natural, when you say the “ie ie,” do this hand motion (and not the facial expression lol):

This little hand wave in front of the face, with the tip of your middle finger at the same height as the tip of your nose, is a Japanese hand gesture that means...man, how do I put this into words?

“No no, you are thinking too highly of me” or “No no, don’t go to such trouble for me” or “No no, I’m fine, thank you.” It’s a super handy gesture!

HAH, “handy”

Anyways. You can use this gesture when you are declining praise, but you can also use it at a restaurant, for example. Maybe a waitress asks, “Do you want another beer?” And you can give the little hand wave and a smile to mean, “I’m good, thanks.” You can also say “Kekkou desu” as you do the motion.

Hope this post was of use to you!

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 6/?

Word Count: 2.6-2.7k idk exact

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your name, A/N - Any name (your best friend’s name)

MUSIC IS INCLUDED THIS TIME! Please enjoy my personal music playlist, or at least a snippet of it.

TO THE PERSON WHO REBLOGGED AND SAID THIS WAS CUTE (at least the first part) you straight up made me cry omfg

Warnings: Swearing, gets really fucking heated at the end (no sex, yet), no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Outfit Context:

Y/N:

Jason:

(Cause I finally found an outfit I liked on the boy, men’s fashion isn’t my strong suit,,, heh :) )

“Sorry, is my mouth hung open?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. Very much so,” she mocked.

Jason closed his mouth and outstretched his hand for Y/N’s, cupping it with both hands and kissing the top of it.

“You just look so lovely, Y/N.”

“And you’re chivalrous, Jay. Now, should we get going?” she asked, putting her free hand on top of his two.

“Yes, let’s go,” he let one of his hands go of hers and lead her to the Porsche he brought with him, not intertwining his fingers with hers.

He opened the passenger’s side door and let Y/N get in, not letting go of her hand til the last moment he could hold it. He got in an turned on the radio,

It felt like a good night, for dancing in the moonlight,

In empty streets, well, everybody's got a reason why,

If we could only just get it right,

Maybe it will all work out like in the movies,

But I know Romeo must die before the ending,

With a final poison kiss delivered gently,

Because you don't get lucky twice, and that's the truth,

“Sing to me sweet just like my memory, 

If New York City Still moves me then I’ve found something real,

I’ll be okay, I could go on for days,

But I just don’t have the courage that it takes to be real,

And even if it’s dark at least we’ll be together,

Slowly sinking in the Earth to lay forever,

You better grab a hold and hold on for your life,

Because you don’t get lucky twice,

No, you don’t get lucky twice,” She sung with the tune.

Without the Bitter the Sweet Isn’t as Sweet - Mayday Parade

“You, you have the voice of an angel,” he said.

“It’s not that hard to mimic works of art with my voice.”

“Did you ever take singing lessons?”

“I did when I was younger, so I could sing French lullabies to my cousins.”

He placed a hand on her thigh as he drove them through the countryside of Gotham to Metropolis, taking the long way on what seemed like purpose. So he could encapsulate the moment in his memory for as long as he knew her and what she was to him. She was an adventure waiting to happen, a love story not yet written to tell for ages, a rock ‘n’ roll song written to please the masses in hidden corners of the world.

And to her, he was a masterwork of intertwining memories of pain, sadness, luck and beauty. A mind of complexity she was just waiting to dive into and see how it functioned. A story behind the white tuff of hair he had, why he was jacked to the masses if he was a book nerd. A story of his favourite book and his favourite sibling, his favourite trope, his love, his pain, him.

The moments where she stuck her hand out the window and traced symbols into the Autumn air swirling past the two as they cruised down the empty back roads. When he laughed as she sang Reste by GIMS and Sting. He didn’t understand the lyrics, but she did, and she called it a love song. Well, he got the parts Sting sung, but French wasn’t a language he knew like she did.

“I guess being Bilingual helped you out massively with that one, huh?”

“It’s a talent I never knew I needed, apparently.”

“Well, you did know you needed.”

“That’s fair,” she laughed, “ I guess I did always need it as a skill.”

“Do your cousins speak English too?” he asked.

“Yeah, a bit? It’s better English than my father.”

“Can he not speak English?”

“Well, he can, just not well. But my mother is also Bilingual in English and French so they never had to worry about my father being bad at English. My twin sister and I grew up knowing both languages,” she rambled, still playing with the wind, “I guess it’s a one-up I have on a lot of people, being able to just talk and talk in another language, travelling advantage,” she kept going, Jason intently listening to her as she went on and on, he liked the silence being filled by her voice, “You know? You might know, I don’t know how you were raised to a T,” she finished.

“Well, I can assure you I only know English so you have that theoretical one-up on me, too. But I choose to see that one-up as something you can teach me as time goes on and we progress,” he paused, “If you’re down to get serious eventually, that is,” he panicked.

“Well, maybe we’re at that point where we can say we’re casually seeing each other and exclusive, but not serious. Hopeful, but not pressuring ourselves into something that’s going to be put under a lot of pressure as we go on,” she said, still playing with the wind.

“We’ll see about that after dinner.”

“Where are we even going?”

“Fancy little restaurant with a balcony facing over the city,” he assured.

“Really out here living for the moments?”

“Well, most girls crack under the pressure of the paparazzi, you, however, flipped them off, and that’s being rewarded for showing that you can’t give a fuck about those dingy ass tabloids and how they treat you, by taking you out to nice places,” he said.

She laughed, “I’m glad I’m never going to live that one down, it was really fun to do.”

“I hope it continues as we go along, I would hate to see that behavior change when it brings a smile to everyone who’s ever been harassed by paparazzi” when they pulled over for a second, Jason quickly loosened his tie a tad, “Honestly, I want to ditch this fucking tie,”

“It’s not you,” she said, “It’s just not.”

“And you know me that well to take that guess?”

“I could see you struggling with it from a mile away, Jason. Maybe the fancy restaurant isn’t us,” she laughs, “But we aren’t going to not take that dinner date.”

“Oh we’re so going to take that date, but I’m thinking from here on out we do whatever the fuck we want, no fancy dates. Thoughts?” he asked.

“Done deal,” she said.

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

In the restaurant, the two of them were basically the worst people to be there, it was levels of fancy that neither of them actually wanted, they both wanted simplicity, but they both thought the presence of the other person was enough of a takeaway from the completely wrong choice of restaurant. They had Dick to blame for this one, and Jason made that clear to Dick in a joking text while Y/N snuck off to the bathroom to ‘fix her hair, she was actually checking her breath.

Dick, this fucking restaurant is a god damn bust, man. We aren’t you and Barbara, that’s what we’ve discovered today. lol.

Bummer! We really like that place.

I can see why it screams Dick and Barbs.

You kissed her yet though?

No.

Wuss! Cat got your tongue? Just do it, man.

And at the same time, Y/N was texting A/N about Jason and what to do,

Girl! Thank you so much for reminding me to bring mints, my god, food ruins your breath so much.

You really want the pretty boy kiss huh?

No, I’m eating the mints to not kiss him, YES I WANT THE KISS.

Ha! Honesty is key, just go for it.

She laughed as she packed her phone into her dress pockets (Yeah there’s fucking pockets :) ) and went to leave the restroom to meet up with Jason again. To which, Jason had already paid and tipped the waiter.

“I could have at least helped on the tip, Jay.”

“I tipped him 200%, but if you want to drop more cash, go for it.”

“You tipped that much?” she asked while slipping in a 50$ she had on her.

“Of course, food service workers deserve a lot more than what they get, especially when they have to deal with terrible customers,” he said as he went and grabbed her hand again, not intertwining fingers again, “And my best friend, Will, he complains about people who don’t tip and praises people who quote ‘over tip’ but I think that he deserves 200% each bill for the shit he puts up with.”

“Did you tip him when we went there?”

“No, I called in a ‘No questions asked’ favour. And before you say anything, he did the same to make me babysit his daughter-”

“Your best friend has a daughter?”

“Well, he’s older than me, but yeah, he’s a single dad because her mum kind of sucks, lovely little girl, I’m her godfather.”

“Does she call you Uncle Jason?”

“Well, Uncle Jay, it’s like one of the only works she knows how to say properly, and Dada,” he laughed, “Great little girl,” he said, nervously, “This doesn’t change anything, does it? ‘Cause if he, knock on fucking wood, lord forbids, dies that will be my daughter.”

“Well, he’s not dead and you’re not worrying that he’s going to die, so nothing has to change. God kids are god kids, noble that you took on your best friend’s kid if, lord forbid, anything happens to the man, really,” she assured.

He sighed and kissed the back of her hand, “Then that is just a gift on top of what I did,” he smiled and lead her back to the Porsche once again, opening the car door for her and she slightly turned on the radio, he let out a small laugh to himself, he got the pretty girl. He got into the Porsche again and began backing out.

“There’s something about ditching a really expensive dinner date that leaves you wanting more,” she said, absent-mindedly.

“What kind of more?” he asked.

“The kind you see in the movies, fully exposed and adventurous, you know?”

“Well, we could always sneak into the Wayne Manor Gardens and dance the night away under the stars like lovers do,” he half-joked, placing a hand on her thigh again and pretending like he did it subconsciously, but he was hyper-aware, especially when he caught her smile as she laughed.

“Wayne Manor? With your brothers, sisters, dad, and grandfather?” she paused, “If you’re serious, then no, not tonight. If you’re pulling my leg then, hell fucking no,” she joked.

“Maybe one day, then, huh?”

“One day, for sure. When it isn’t scary to accidentally run into your family on their property running around with you,” she said.

“Well, we can always go into the Wayne Enterprises Ballroom and dance the night away, no one should be in the office for a while and even then since there are no classes in the entire school tomorrow you can just hide out in my office if we stay too long,” he paused to make sure she was still listening, “Security can’t question me because I’m Bruce Wayne’s son, and security is tight as fuck so paparazzi can’t get to us,” he paused to put a little bit of pressure on her thigh, “What do you say? Can I have this dance, Milady?” he half-joked.

“You want to know something Jason?

“Always, Y/N.”

“I took dance lessons when I was younger, can you Waltz?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am, I can.”

“Then I’m in, let’s go.”

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

She loved the feeling of being back in her new hometown, Gotham. So when they pulled into the massive black building, she felt even more welcomed, security at the gates did ask ‘Who’s the girl?’ but Jason just explained it very easily,

“You know that date of mine that flipped off the press and you lot loved it?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” the man responded.

“You can call me Jason, you know that. But this is that girl.”

And they were let through the parking gates and into the underground parking system, they had to travel surprisingly far to Jason’s reserved spot in the lot, but the did get there before it hit AM. Once out of the car, Jason grabbed her hand and they ran into the building’s employees doors. It was a tight squeeze, but the feeling of Jason pressed so close to her sent chills down her spine. They went through many halls and reached the Ballroom, and entering it was like a dream for her.

Walls lined with intricate shapes and colours, but the colours never brought away from the stage at the far end from the door, the curtains seemed to redden with each step towards them, the 3, maybe 4 chandeliers hung above her like crystals in the ocean, it was amazing and beautiful. Checkered floorboards to give it a little bit of dimension, but it was the same colour as the main wall so your brain and eyes wouldn’t hurt after looking at it. It was stunningly beautiful and that’s what drew her in.

When he grabbed her hand and put on Never Let Me Go by Florence + The Machine, pulling her close to his chest and slowly Waltzing her around the room, spinning her when it felt right for him to do. Neither of them worried about the sloppiness or how it looked to the naked eye because it was for them. no one got satisfaction like they did at that moment. And grabbing her for one last dip was Jason’s goal when the ending of the song hit, although out of breath and his face stuffed in her chest as they both panted, he did pull her up so they were face-to-face on the dancefloor that they wiped clean.

“Did I tell you that you look stunning, Y/N?”

“I think you mentioned it a few times, Jay,” she said, staring directly into his eyes.

“Well, I mean it.”

“And I’m going to mean this,” she paused, taking her hand and placing it on his cheek, “ The way your eyes are a green-blue tint makes me lost in them, they’re like a sea of this mind I find myself liking more and more every day,” she paused to put her other hand on his other cheek, “And the way your nose and cheek freckles frame them is amazing.”

And he went for it. Somehow when he pressed his lips into hers, it felt like they were meant to match, and they both opened their mouths to play the coveted game of tongue-war, but they didn’t play by the rules, it was soft and sweet but full of passion and love, not lust. His hands would travel to her waist and lightly grip her, while her hands would travel to his neck and drape around the back of it.

They pulled away at the same moment to take in air, something they had clearly been missing as they were connected, they both let out a small chuckle before she put her hands in his hair and went in for round 2.

This time it was hungrier, and they both played with the shapes of the other so much more as time went on, he would grab her ass and she would pull on his hair slightly before he picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist and moved one of her hands to the nape of his neck, this time, they would break for seconds only to start moving towards his office, which, conveniently, had a couch.

To say he threw her on that couch would be an understatement, he fucking thrust her on that couch and climbed on top of her, it was like 3 days of passion and lust combined themselves in a matter of minutes from their first kiss to them meeting on the couch. They both knew deep down that it couldn’t escalate further than this, especially at 1 in the morning, but time moves fast when you’re connecting in this way.

They finally broke after their passionate exchange and he fell to her side and began to spoon her, “Worth it,” he whispered.

“Worth what?” she asked.

“It was worth it to take a chance and defy my anxieties to ask you on that first date.”

“I don’t like a reality where you didn’t ask me on that date.”

“Neither do I, and I’m positive of that.”

[fuck-customers]

i’ve been working at [NAME REDACTED] for about a month now. it’s my first “real” retail job and i knew before how bad retail is and how bad the customers are but you really can’t know until you’re in it. the store’s target demographic is karens (and they all look the same — if i get put on greeter i often struggle trying to tell if someone has been in here twice or not). a store full of average customers is bad enough but when they’re almost all karens? just awful. without further ado i will now complain about everything bad about working there.

-i consider myself lucky if a customer walks in wearing a mask properly

-the rest of them? under their noses, on their chins, or just none at all. it’s gotten to the point where the sight of an entire human face or even a nose gives me a physical reaction of disgust. i don’t know how i haven’t gotten covid yet

-customers coming to my register immediately when they see the customer before them leave, like motherfucker did you not hear all the cashiers calling the customers up when you were in line? i have to wipe down the counter for your nasty ass, give me time to do it

-the people who get pissy at me for advertising the rewards card. like sorry bruh if i don’t advertise it to you my manager will just get pissy at me instead. lose-lose. fuck the reward cards in general, i’m tired of trying to sell them just for management’s approval. also it’s very obviously a shit deal for the customer i don’t blame them for not wanting to sign up

-i am not allowed to go on break or clock out if there’s a line. sometimes there can be a line continuously for a looooong time. the other day i had to stay 30 minutes past when i was supposed to get off because the line didn’t die down. fuck customers get out of my store

-customers who come in with kids. i love kids and i think they’re adorable but i guess karen spawn are built different. they cry incessantly (not their fault, but goddamn if you as a parent don’t know how to get your baby to stop crying then you probably shouldn’t be a parent), they leave messes and spill shit everywhere, they don’t wear masks (even some of the older kids, like 10 year olds), they fuck up my display at the register, and also the baby clothes are a pain in the ass to bag because they’re always attached to the hangers and hangers don’t do well being bagged.

-customers who leave their carts in my line. the registers are all in one row along the back wall, if they leave a cart i have to walk all the way around the end to get it. and they always have to leave them when there’s a huge rush and i don’t have *time* to run and put it away.

-i’m actually not allowed to tell a customer to put on a mask, even though store policy says all customers have to wear one at all times (with the exception of people with medical conditions that necessitate not wearing a mask). the only thing i’m allowed to do is offer a mask, if they refuse i can’t tell them to put one on or else i’d get fired.

-starting pay is $10/hr and i probably will never get a raise

-seriously it is so disheartening to work an hour and only make ten dollars. actually less than that because of taxes

-there are no full-time entry level positions. the only people who get full time are management. i wanted a full time job originally but at my interview they told me that and i said “that’s fine as long as i can get around 30 hours a week” and they said “yeah you’ll probably get 25-30”. my average has been 20.

-i’m like 99% sure there are no full-time cashiers just so they don’t have to pay us benefits

-one of my supervisors is so overbearing and talks down to me and all the cashiers my age. she gets on my ass for taking too long to tidy up my register between customers, likes to just stand right behind me, is more strict about not letting me go on break when there’s a line, and is the one who gives me the most shit for not selling enough reward cards. when i do get a reward card she jumps in halfway through to “help” even though i don’t need it and then takes half the credit for my card that i sold. i mentioned it to another supervisor and she said “yeah i’ve been noticing that” but i know nothing is gonna change.

-customers who say “bless your heart”

-customers who need everything wrapped. it is so unnecessary, i can just bag the breakable stuff individually and you’ll be fine.

-relatedly, customers who need large bags for things. they’re on the bottom shelf of the counter and it takes more time to bend down, get however many bags, and open them all. the bags are harder to open than customers will ever know. you don’t need your lamp in a bag just carry it 50 feet to your car you lazy fuck

-markdown bitches (they always only get 10% off too, like did they really think they were gonna accomplish anything)

-i’m tired of walking by the security camera with a screen showing the feed and seeing how my entire body looks when i walk. not anybody’s fault but i just hate it

-being on greeter and having to wipe down everyone’s carts. i don’t hate the act itself of wiping the carts down but i do hate when customers touch and put back a cart that i just cleaned

-not something bad but i find it funny that since i’ve started working here, now whenever i’m the customer somewhere i do my customer service voice at whoever’s working

as much as everything sucks it could be much worse, i’ll probably work here for another several months. most of my coworkers are cool and make it bearable. working here has also made me feel bad whenever i enter a store and i always try to be a breath of fresh air for the people working there (in my experience it is so relieving to get a good customer and it’s usually people who also work in retail, i love being able to drop my customer service voice and talk to them like a normal person) but uhh yeah if anyone has any advice on how to be better when i’m the customer lmk

Submitted by @officialcooldyke edited because store name was too close to real name.

-Rodney

[ahsbitch]

Yes, Mr. Langdon---Fire & Reign!Michael Langdon x Reader

Word Count: 3228

Summary: Reader is F&R!Michael’s assistant, who is always quick to do whatever he asks. Michael wants to see how far she’ll go to do just that. 

Warnings: NSFW, lots of swearing, masturbation, Reader gets a facial, bootlicking, degradation, humiliation ish?, some Mean!Michael, but also kinda Soft!Michael at the end bc I’m soft and lonely at heart, that’s all I can think of idk

A/N: Hi I’ve literally never written any AHS stuff before so I apologize if this sucks but I really hope it doesn’t  

Being the personal assistant to the Antichrist was definitely not the easiest job in the world.

But when held in comparison to your time in restaurant service, it definitely wasn’t the hardest either. 

At least here, you rarely had to deal with obstinate customers. Most people were too frightened of your boss, Mr. Langdon, to yell or be rude in his presence, which you were constantly in, and on the occasion that they were rude or stubborn anyway, he had a tendency to give a little wave of his hand, incinerating them before your very eyes. 

No, the rudest and most needy person you typically had to deal with was Mr. Langdon himself. 

The rude came and went in waves. He could be cruel, demeaning, downright evil at times. He acted, in short, much like one might expect the Antichrist to. But sometimes, he could be charming, gentle, occasionally even sweet. 

The neediness came and went in waves too, although it was more often very subtly present than anything else. Usually he was commanding, powerful, clearly in charge. But sometimes, although still commanding, he could be almost childlike in his confusion and frustration. 

He was kind of an asshole, but he wasn’t the worst boss in the world. There was something about him that was compelling, that made you feel a great desire to please him. He was always specific about what he wanted, and you always complied, no matter how out of the box, how insulting, how simple or extreme, how kind or how demeaning. You said yes to everything he asked you. 

And he had begun to take great notice of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fucking, fuck, dammit to hell, this fucking, son of a bitch!” 

You sat at your desk just outside of Michael Langdon’s office, transcribing a giant tome of text as instructed by the Cooperative, and listening to your boss curse loudly at inanimate objects. 

You should probably get up, check on him, but you decided that until he reached the point of breaking things-

“Fuck!” He shouted, and then there was a bang and a very, very loud crash. 

Yeah, until he started doing stuff like that. 

You rose with a shake of your head, knocking sharply on his door three times. 

“Come in,” Michael sighed, and as you walked in you took note of the shattered computer against the opposite wall of his desk, turning back to look at your boss with his head laying against said desk, hands gripping at his golden curls.

Dammit, he was frustrated. 

Frustrated Michael could be particularly difficult to deal with. 

You stood before him, hands folded neatly in front of you, smiling pleasantly even though he wasn’t looking at you yet, “You sounded like you might be in need of assistance, Mr. Langdon. Would you mind fixing your computer?” 

He grunted quietly, giving a little swirl of his hand, although he didn’t lift his head, and you stepped out of the way as the technology flew back into place, drifting into its original position. 

“Very good. Now, if you don’t mind, could you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m not a child, Y/N,” Michael growled, and you bit your tongue gently to resist the urge to laugh. 

Moving to the side of the desk, you smiled to yourself at his little temper tantrum, “Of course not, Mr. Langdon. I am merely at your service.” 

“Of course you are,” Sitting up finally, he turned to you, and you were amused to see the pout that sat on his lips, the intimidating man looking suddenly very young, more his own age, “The mouse won’t work.” 

“May I?” You didn’t wait for him to agree, already wiggling the mouse once and then moving to the wires of the computer, fiddling with them quickly before sliding the mouse back to Michael, “That should do it.” 

“What was wrong with it?” He glanced up at you, voice gruff, although you could hear a hint of curiosity.

You shifted where you stood, trying to mask your discomfort, “Just, uh, just technology stuff.”

“Y/N,” Turning in his chair, Michael pinned you in place with his gaze, and you were unsure whether this was metaphorical pinning or not, with how frozen you felt, “Tell me what was wrong with it.”

“Yes, Mr. Langdon,” Trying to keep your smile in place rather than let a grimace take you over, you grit your teeth in preparation for him to do something violent, “The mouse wasn’t plugged in all the way. It’s a fairly common issue. Happens all the time.”

You tensed, but to your surprise Michael didn’t yell or break something or curse, like he usually did when he felt a sense of ineptitude. Instead, he laughed, and normally that would’ve scared you even more, but it was such a warm and gentle laugh that you felt yourself relaxing ever so slightly as he spoke, “Of course it was. Tell me, Y/N, is there anything wrong with you?”

Shrugging, you let yourself perch on the edge of his desk with a giggle, “Plenty of things, believe me.”

“Tell me some?” 

“Yes, Mr. Langdon,” Pausing, you mused over your words, testing each on the tip of your tongue before you said it, “Let’s see. My left foot is bigger than my right. I think jealousy is a very ugly emotion, and I hate it, but I have a lot of insecurities, and often find myself jealous of people around me in spite of my best efforts. Um, I read cheesy romance novels in my free time even though the writing usually makes me cringe. When people ask me what type of lipstick I use I always lie because I don’t want anyone else to have lips that look as good as mine. Oh, and even though I exclusively call you Mr. Langdon out loud, I will confess that in my head I usually refer to you as Michael. It’s faster, y’know.”

Chuckling softly once more, Michael nodded, “Those don’t sound too bad, as far as problems go. You’re lucky.”

“I prefer to think of myself as adaptable.”

“Fair enough,” He grinned, but something dangerous glittered behind his eyes, “You can go now, Y/N.” 

“Yes, Mr. Langdon,” You flashed him a small smile before hurrying out of the room.

Michael watched you leave, musing over your words. 

How far, he wondered, how far could he go with his wishes, before you gave in, before you said no. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Why the hell wouldn’t you say no to anything?

It was beginning to drive Michael crazy, watching the way that you gave in to whatever he asked, even when he was being absurd. 

You spent a full day doing all your work in nothing but your underclothes, simply because he asked. 

You gave sat on his lap through a whole meeting with other members of the Cooperative, your superiors, simply because he asked. 

You let him order you to do tiny things. Hand him pens that were two inches away from his fingertips. Kiss the floor where his chair had been sitting. Adjust the brightness of his computer screen for him only to come back and adjust it to its original brightness approximately two minutes later. Simply because he asked. 

What wouldn’t you say yes to? 

He was musing over this as he waited for you to return from a coffee run.

There you were, carrying two paper cups, a pleasant smile on your face. 

Always that same damn smile.

“I have your hot chocolate, Mr. Langdon,” You set the cup in front of him on the desk, “Thank you again for allowing me to get myself a drink.”

Michael glanced up at you, frowning, “Y/N, I always let you get yourself a drink.” 

Shrugging, you raised the cup to your lips and took a sip, “I know you do, Mr. Langdon. But it feels right to thank you. You’re a good boss.” 

Maybe not so much, He thought to himself as he twitched his hand, watching you drop the cup almost in slow motion, watching as the lid came off and your drink spilled just a bit onto his lap, just a bit onto his legs, cursing as the rest came splashing down onto his shoes. 

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” You gasped, staring at your now empty hands in shock.

Sneering at you, Michael snapped twice, “Don’t just stand there, Y/N. Clean up your mess.” 

“Right, I’m sorry, Mr. Langdon, let me go get-”

“No,” He grabbed your wrist, not allowing you to move away, and you turned back to him in confusion as he continued to tug you closer, “Get onto your knees, open your mouth, and clean up your mess.” 

Holy fuck.

Ignoring the way your face burned, you averted your eyes, whispering, “Yes, Mr. Langdon,” As you dropped to your knees.

Where exactly were you meant to go with this? 

Michael raised his foot, nudging your chin with it until you looked up and met his gaze, his eyes holding something dark and urgently, compellingly dangerous, “Well? Get to work, Y/N.”  

“Yes, Mr. Langdon.”

Before you could even think any further, he had touched the toe of his boot to your mouth, pushing gently against your bottom lip until you opened for him. 

He was a remarkably clean person, and beyond the taste of your coffee even the shoes themselves didn’t taste particularly bad. 

Probably because they cost more than your apartment. 

You moved slowly at first, but as Michael brought his hands down to wind tightly through your hair, you sped up. You lapped at the droplets of coffee, over the grooves of his laces and up to the sharp, pointed toe of the boot, and when you were done with one you switched to the other. He gripped your hair tightly, guiding your head, forcing you to bob up and down as you cleaned his shoe, and you wondered vacantly to yourself if he did the same thing while he was getting a blowjob. 

Probably. 

“Good girl,” He praised as you worked, his voice softer than you expected, and even Michael seemed surprised as he cleared his throat, his tone becoming darker, “You’re not bad at this. Do you do this often?”

Pausing your ministrations briefly, you shook you head, “No, Mr. Langdon.”

You were back at it immediately, feeling him tug at your head.

Michael was trying hard to sound intimidating, and of course he did, he always did, but there was something shockingly gentle behind his voice even as he growled, “Good. I should be your first priority. Tell me, do you enjoy this?” 

You had finished against his shoes, pulling away, and he released your head as he examined them, smirking at your heavy breathing, at the way you panted your answer, “Would you, uh, do you want me to enjoy this, Mr. Langdon?”

Narrowing his eyes, a frown etched across his face, “What? I mean, no. No, I don’t want you to.”

“Then I don’t,” You shrugged, rocking backwards.

Fuck, you were going to kill him. 

“What if I wanted you to?” 

“Then I would.”

Clearing his throat again, Michael stared at you for a moment before patting his thigh, “There’s coffee on my pants, as well. You’ll need to take care of that, too.”

“Yes, Mr. Langdon.” 

He didn’t touch you this time, instead bringing his hands up, reclining further back in his chair and resting his head against his palms as he watched you. 

Starting at the cuff, you stroked your tongue up his pant leg, pressing absentminded kisses occasionally as you went. By the time you’d reached the tops of his thighs, Michael was straining forward ever so slightly, dragging the chair closer to you with one ankle hooked around his desk, and then meeting up with his other ankle to lock behind your back. 

You took the hint, mouthing along the outline of his cock.

Holy shit, he was huge, and you hadn’t even seen it unconstrained. 

He hissed, quietly, his hips bucking forward as you licked your way up to his zipper, clamping your teeth onto it and tugging down without much thought. 

“Stop,” He said firmly, almost laughing as you scrambled back, “Don’t be greedy.” 

“Sorry, Mr. Langdon,” You dropped your gaze and licked your lips, tasting the remains of your coffee. 

“Is this...” Trailing off in thought, Michael guided your face upwards once more, forcing you to make eye contact with him, “Is this embarrassing for you, Y/N?”

“Do you want it to be embarrassing for me?” 

“Stop that,” He snapped, his grip on your chin tightening, “Stop bullshitting me. Give me a real answer. Truthfully, is this embarrassing for you?”

Tapping your fingers along your thighs, musing over your answer a moment, “Truthfully? Of course it is. A lot of the things you have me do, especially lately, I find humiliating.”

There it was. Now would you finally give in, finally reject a request? 

He didn’t say anything, just reached into his boxers and pulled out his cock. 

Neither of you spoke, staring at each other instead, and hesitantly you reached for it, flinching as Michael slapped your hand away just as you brushed your fingers against him.

“I told you not to be greedy.”

“Sorry, Mr. Langdon.”

After a moment more, Michael nodded, wrapping his own fist around his cock and beginning to pump it. You watched in fascination as moved, at the way his long fingers wrapped around his thick, long, perfect cock. 

“Y/N,” Snapping you out of your daze, Michael paused to spit into his hand, moving rubbing along the head of his dick before returning to his former position, “I want to jerk off onto your face. I want you to sit there, and watch me, and I want to finish on your face, and when I’m done, I want you to thank me, and I want you to leave it there. Leave it for the rest of the day, so everyone can see how desperate you are to please me.”

Surely, surely you would say no to this. 

“Yes, Mr. Langdon.” 

A growl made its way out of his throat before he could stop it, and he sped up his pace as he watched you fold your hands in your lap, adjusting your knees a little, staring up at him through your fluttering lashes. 

Snarling, Michael grunted, “You’re pathetic, do you know that?”

Did he want you to answer? 

“Keep your pretty little whore mouth shut, got it?” He spoke like he could read your mind, and you decided he probably could as you clamped your teeth shut, nodding quickly as he continued, “Fuck. You’d do anything I asked you to, huh? If I told you to kill someone, you’d do it without question, wouldn’t you? Hell, you’d kill yourself without question, if I asked you to. I think you like feeling humiliated. I think that your pussy gets wetter and wetter every time I tell you what to do. I- shit- I’m your fucking boss, and you’re on your knees for me before I can even finish telling you that’s where you need to be. It’s absurd. You probably want me to fuck you right now. You’re probably wishing I would let you open your mouth so you can swallow me down, you’re so desperate to get a taste of me.”

He was getting closer to finishing, you could tell, his rhythm getting faster and faster, his words becoming more sharply articulated. 

Michael kept going, almost like he was talking himself into cumming, “You can’t wait for me to finish, can you? You can’t wait to feel completely possessed by me, like I’ve somehow claimed you. You can’t wait for everyone who you see to stare at you, full of disgust and confusion. You want it, don’t you? Don’t you?”

“Yes, Mr. Langdon,” You nodded, shutting your eyes as he let out a low, shaky groan, his warm cum coating your face.

Fucking hell.

You opened your eyes slowly, carefully, unsure of whether or not you should move. You watched as Michael stuffed himself back into his pants, zipping them quickly, and then he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, holding it out to you.

You didn’t take it but blinked up at him, staring, “I, um, I thought you said to leave it.”

Clicking his tongued, Michael started wiping your face himself, his touch incredibly light, “I thought you’d say no. Tell me to stop. Maybe report me to HR.”

You flicked your eyebrow up, an amused smile settling on your lips, “Do we have an HR for the apocalypse?” 

Chuckling mirthlessly, he raised the handkerchief to his mouth and spat lightly, cleaning your face more intently, “You could say no, do you realize that? Why don’t you ever say no to me?” 

You closed your eyes as he rubbed across the bridge of your nose, dabbing delicately at your eyelids. 

“Have you ever seen The Princess Bride?” You asked, finally, as he moved to your hairline. 

His brow furrowed in confusion, “I, uh, no? No, I’ve never seen it.” 

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” His hand moved to your cheek and you leaned into it before you could stop yourself, humming as his thumb moved to run across your skin, “You should watch it sometime. Before you do the whole ending the world thing and kill me and pretty much everyone else in the world and inevitably ruin Netflix. Forget about that. Let’s just say it’s because I’m afraid of you, yeah? You scare me, so I do whatever you say.”

Hesitating for just a moment, Michael pulled his hand away, eyes closed, frowning, “Is that what The Princess Bride is about? Being afraid of your boss?”

You laughed before you could stop yourself, and you found yourself wishing that he would touch your face again, although you didn’t dare say so, “Not quite. Just, uh, forget about The Princess Bride. It doesn’t matter.”

He nodded, folding his handkerchief and slipping it into his pocket without opening his eyes, which you found oddly impressive. 

You kept waiting for Michael to say something, to look at you, to move, to do anything, but he wasn’t and he didn’t and so you stood, and started to move away. 

“Wait,” He spoke finally, and you felt as though you’d been in silence for hours although you knew it must’ve only been a few moments.

“Yes, Mr. Langdon?”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Michael opened his eyes, looking at you carefully, “I mean, the apocalypse. It’s not going to kill you.”

“It’s not? I thought only members of the Cooperative, and the people rich enough to buy a ticket, I thought they were the only ones who were going to make it.” 

He wrapped his hand around your wrist, just as he had before, but this time it wasn’t aggressive, wasn’t rough. He was very gentle, his fingers skimming along the veins, pausing to feel your pulse thump against him, “And you. There will be a place for you in the new world, Y/N, I promise you that.”

And then Michael had released your wrist and turned away, and you made your way out the door and back to your own desk with a soft, “Thank you, Mr. Langdon.”

[kuzuhinasecretexchange]

Work Title: How To Learn To Enjoy Coffee In Four Days

Author: @jagopolis

For: @starryy-night

Pairings/Characters: Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu/Hajime Hinata, Peko Pekoyama

Rating/Warnings: General audiences, warning for a lot of foul language

Prompts used: Coffee Shop AU, urban fantasy

Author’s notes: I am so sorry for the foul language. And the other thing, I hope this small piece is to your liking! I adore modern/urban fantasy so I immediately jumped on board, and while coffee shop AUs are not something I often write, I think I did decently! Enjoy this small piece and glory to the lovely kuzuhina ship! Also, 10°C is 50°F.

Nobody liked Mondays.

And that was the fact as true as the sun setting every morning, the stars showing up at night, or that every full moon werewolves would go a bit feral.

Even the weather seemed to agree that Mondays are shit. The temperature was no higher than maybe 10°C if not for the wind, and the sky had that ugly, grey color of clouds that won’t bring rain, but will obscure the sunshine just because.

Amidst all that, just after they got a moment off their duties, Peko approached Fuyuhiko with an offer. Apparently, a new coffee shop opened nearby, and she was looking for a friend willing to visit it with her.

And, you know what? Yeah, sure, why not, any break from the bleak reality will make this boring day much more bearable.

Turns out the shop wasn’t even far from their workplace, they didn’t have to take a short-distance teleport, just a quick train ride. At least, it would be quick, if not for the elf who suddenly decided to argue with the driver. Seriously, even goddamn dragons aren’t that proud.

But finally, they arrived at their stop and headed towards their destination. It was in one of the more rural districts. With narrower streets, mainly small houses and equally small gardens.

“So, this is the fuss is all about?” Fuyuhiko mused out loud, judging the rather modest front of the cafe.

Peko nodded quietly, though what interested her more were the fluffy cushions leaning against one of the windows. Knowing her, they won’t leave without a new one.

This was actually a good opportunity to take a peek into the cafe. And it wasn’t anything stellar, truth be told. Just a few tables with chairs or more comfortable sofas, a small counter, and a single, tired employee checking something on his phone. No customers at this hour? Sheesh, if this is another shitty place… Fuyuhiko sighed and pushed the door, walking inside. What hit him immediately was the sheer intensity of magic woven into this place. It felt as if they transitioned from a shitty autumn Monday to a bright summer Sunday by just taking a single step. The interior transformed from a cheap look to a full-blown forest. With trees and birds singing and all that shit. And, yeah, Fuyuhiko was aware this is all just very good illusion magic at work but y’know, this shit is still impressive. Especially since he tried and failed miserably at learning it.

And then Fuyuhiko noticed that there is a fucking window with soft cushions next to him and all immersion went poof.

Peko, however, was absolutely taken in, and he knew that from the way her lips twitched in the slightest of smiles.

“…come on, let’s not keep the barista waiting,” he grumbled, before moving to the counter, now overgrown with moss and flowers. But behind it was the same, very bored barista, checking his phone. The audacity! Fuyuhiko very loudly clears his throat, and the guy finally has enough common fucking sense to look at his customers. “Welcome to our small shop, what do you desire?” barista’s voice was no less enthusiastic than the way he greeted his only customers, and Fuyuhiko was so, so fucking tempted to curse this idiot out right there and then. Let’s go. Let’s fucking go.

“What we fucking desire, is–” There was a hand on her shoulder, and Peko’s voice quickly cut him off. “We don’t desire anything, Fae. However, we would like to order an espresso and a caramel latte. With almond milk.”

…of fucking course it’s a fae. As if anything today can go right, he almost told his desires to a fae. Good job Fuyuhiko! Good job you idiot!

The fae barista nodded and got to making their order, while Peko, with her hand still on Fuyuhiko’s shoulder, guided him to a table far away from the counter. The shorter man huffed angrily and sat down.

“…This was close. You need to watch your tongue around faes.”

To that, Fuyuhiko just grabbed a handful of moss growing from his chair and ripped it off. “It’s not my fucking fault that bitch tried to scam me out of my wants! How the hell was I supposed to know he’s a fae to begin with? These stupid illusions make him look almost amagi–”

Peko cut him off with a nudge before he could continue his angry rant as the barista approached them. He placed their orders on the table. It didn’t appear as if he heard anything, then again, who knew with these sly bastards. “Anything else?” Your stupid head on the platt–

“No, thank you very much.” God bless Peko for her natural unshakable composure.

The barista nodded and then walked away, all while Fuyuhiko dug his sharp claws into the living wood of the illusionary table. Meanwhile, Peko picked up her espresso and took a long, slow sip. She was someone who not only knew a lot about coffee but also enjoyed this devilish brew of the evilest of demons. No, seriously, how the fuck could anyone ever enjoy its bitterness? Fuyuhiko let out a frustrated growl, before finally taking his cup and sipping some of probably the single sweetest coffee in existence. It still tasted like coffee, and that meant absolute garbage though. “For being clearly a front for fae activity, their coffee is rather delicious.” Peko mused, setting down her cup. It was already empty, much to Fuyuhiko’s horror. His latte was barely started and he already had enough!

“If you say so. I just think it’s a very shitty business practice to try to extort desires from your clients,” he muttered, grip tightening around his glass. “I’m just gonna go pay and then we’re out. And never, ever coming back.”

Peko looked at him with that slightly amused look of hers, before turning her eyes to the weird-ass not-illusion-hidden window with the cushions. Oh no… “Please don’t tell me you want a souvenir.” She nodded. He cursed out his life again. Then got up and walked to that counter and damn barista, who somehow already got back onto his phone. Fuyuhiko had to try real hard to not start growling at the fae. But he was a distinguished dragon, and way too old to growl at people he disliked. “I’m paying, card, how much is it?”

The barista looked up at him with these annoyingly green eyes of his, then on the register.

“830 yen.” And at that moment Fuyuhiko started growling. What a fucking steal! He could get coffee that’s equally as horrible for what, a 100 yen? Fucking faes and their fucking shady business practices!

No, Fuyuhiko, remember your goal here.

“…you’ve got quite the prices.”

The barista just shrugged. The bastard-

“I didn’t set the prices, I just work here.”

The eyeroll Fuyuhiko made was one of the more subtle kinds. Absolutely.

“Alright, whatever. Can the cushions you have by the window be bought?”

And that, for fuck’s sake FINALLY, got a reaction out of the bored guy. His brows furrowed in genuine confusion, as he looked over Fuyuhiko’s shoulder and at the window.

“Well, no, they’re a part of the interior…”

Aha. Sure sure, anything a fae has in their sight can be acquired through a bit of rule-bending.

“What about exchange then? You can exchange anything for anything with equal value.”

Gotcha bitch.

The barista sighed, before rubbing his temples and hesitantly nodded.

“That… Is true, but you’d have to bring me an equally as fluffy cushion for trade. You’d already have a cushion though, so why-”

“Then it’s a deal!” Fuyuhiko took his card out and quickly made the right payment. For the coffee. But the more important and tricky one will have to wait. “I will bring you that cushion tomorrow.”

Barista didn’t say anything, visibly too stunned by the weird happenings. Haha, 1-0, shitty customer service guy. With everything taken care of, and his power and pride flaunted, Fuyuhiko turned around and gestured at Peko to follow him. She sighed, with that smallest of amusements on her face. She was lucky to be his best friend, he wouldn’t bother for anyone else.

“I’m never doing you any favors again.”

To which Peko just laughed, as they walked out of the enchanted cafe and into the much less gray Monday of the city.

  —

  So, Tuesdays.

On most occasions, Fuyuhiko didn’t mind Tuesdays as much as he did Mondays, for a simple reason. His work started later and he could wake up at a reasonably late hour and not be late. Sure, not much happened, but there wasn’t any reason for outright hatred either.

That is, usually.

Because today, he had to carry a fluffy fucking cushion to a stupid cafe and uphold his end of the deal with a fae. Because, in his own stupidity, he shouted ‘it’s a deal’ in front of a being known for making shady deals with other magical and amagical creatures for a living. But this was fine. Everything was fine. This was a harmless deal with clearly stated conditions. Pillow for a pillow, exchanged today. That’s all, the fae really had no room to scam him out of his soul or some shit.

And so, after work, he made it very clear to Peko how dissatisfied he was with what she put him up for, before leaving with his sacrificial pillow, one he extorted from Souda with a few threats and curses. What? He doesn’t have stuff like that just laying around, he prefers smooth materials.

He took one look at the traffic and decided to not bother with a train, instead preparing to pay quite a bit for a teleport. Really, fuck whoever thought that instead of making this perfect means of transportation free, one has to pay stupid amounts just to make a short jump.

The machine situated on the end of his street happily swallowed a few whole bills while he typed in the address. Glass doors of the booth closed behind him, the low hum of magic filled the closed space, before pulling him under for just a moment and spitting out at a different machine. THANK YOU FOR USING OUR SERVICES flashed across the screen, as the glass door opened to the narrow street from yesterday. “Thank you for ripping me off, assholes,” Fuyuhiko muttered to himself. At least he wasn’t one of the losers who were nauseous after teleportation. He covered his mouth with his hand. Just in case.

The street was as empty as yesterday. Actually, everything looked exactly like yesterday, even the weather was the same. Pushing the annoying deja vu aside, Fuyuhiko quickly made his way to the coffee shop, pillow in his hand. A plastic bag, but who cares.

Inside the exact same illusion has greeted him. His eyes wandered to the counter, behind which the same shithead from yesterday was standing, but this time just mindlessly fidgeting with some coins instead of being on his phone. What an improvement.

So Fuyuhiko walked over, slammed his cushion on the counter, and stared the barista dead in the eyes. “My end of the deal. Your turn.” And the barista looked at him with such deep confusion Fuyuhiko was sure the last time he saw emotion as strong as this on someone’s face was when he breathed fire during a party to get everyone’s attention. So he just stood there, waiting for the idiot to remember what this is all about. Up until now, he didn’t really have the time to examine his target of curses. He had the appearance of a guy roughly his physical age, with a standard built and brown, spiky hair. So spiky in fact that some strands seemed to completely defy gravity and just stand upright. Fuyuhiko briefly wondered what kind of hairspray the guy was using. He was dressed in a brown apron and striped shirt, just standard work clothes. No one would wear that atrocity without being forced to.

“…wait, you’re the guy who wanted to trade pillows-?” the barista finally spoke up, examining the bag. He reached into it, and took the cushion into his hands, squeezing it.

But Fuyuhiko really had no patience for this place, nor this guy.

“Yes. Now, which ones can I trade this for?”

The barista stared at the pillows stacked up against the window as if he saw them for the first time in his life.

“Any, I think. Just, uh, bring one to me and I’ll decide?”

Without waiting for any further encouragement, Fuyuhiko bolted towards the window, grabbed the single fluffiest bastard situated there, almost tripped on a tree’s root on his way back, and placed the soon-to-be-his pillow right next to the one he brought.

The barista blinked in great confusion again, before nodding.

“Yeah, sure, this looks about equal in volume…”

Which, to be fair, surprised Fuyuhiko. Was this fae just. Agreeing to the terms of a different being? What the fuck. What the Fuck.

“Would you like to order anything, though?” the barista continued. Fuyuhiko shook his head.

“No, that’s all I wanted out of this place. Bye.”

He grabbed his bag, the newly obtained gift, and turned around. “Wait!” the barista’s voice caught up to him. “…we also serve tea?”

Did that bastard notice that he didn’t drink his coffee yesterday? More importantly, remembered it? That’s very fucking weird of him.

But also rather rude of Fuyuhiko to just walk in, demand a pillow, and walk out? Fuck this shit… a single cup of tea couldn’t harm anyone. Even if served by a fae. If they used some illegal charms they’d be shut down before they could even open.

“…single cup of green tea then.”

As Fuyuhiko turned around, he caught the barista smiling to himself. Yeah, good job dipshit, you just convinced a guy to become your customer again. This time though, instead of sitting by a table, the dragon decided to sit by the counter. Maybe to observe the sly fae. Maybe.

Said fae in question easily maneuvered between the shelves and picked out what seemed to be Fuyuhiko’s ordered tea, then scooped some into a tea infuser, placed that into the cup, and poured hot water onto it. And it’s not like Fuyuhiko has never seen someone make tea, for fuck’s sake he makes it himself, but damn this man had some moves.

“Enjoy your drink.”

Fuyuhiko looked at the cup with still brewing tea with the slightest hint of suspicion. But he just went over all the arguments, so he just picked it up and took a sip. “…that’s one sweet green tea.”

The barista laughed a bit, before scratching his neck. “Yes, you see, I picked a sweeter mix, I thought you’d like it after your last order.”

“Do you remember every order you get?” Fuyuhiko could not contain a snark. The barista answered with a slow nod.

“Pretty much-? That’s what I’m paid for.”

The dragon just stared at him as he continued to sip his tea. The fae shifted his balance from left to right, then searched for something to look at, finally landing on the pillow.

“…that girl is really lucky to have you. I mean, not everyone would make a deal with a fae to get a gift!”

And to that, Fuyuhiko spat out his tea for the first time. He coughed loudly, to the barista’s bewilderment.

“Peko is like my sister!”

The barista shook his head with stunning speed, his voice seemed to get a tone higher.

“No, I wasn’t trying to insist anything like that-! She’s lucky to have you, as a brother-?”

Fuyuhiko continued to cough his lungs out. The barista leaned forward and, after hesitating a moment, awkwardly patted his back. And while Fuyuhiko would prefer for a stranger to not touch him, the gesture was somewhat appreciated (and, damn, his hands were warm). A few more coughs and the cursed tea finally left his lungs in its entirety, it would appear. He could finally breathe freely. Barista went back to standing at a distance of the counter (would it be strange to be disappointed by that?).

“Uh… Sorry about that. So, your ‘like sister’s’ name is Peko, and yours is?” That was probably the most awkward segway into a different topic Fuyuhiko has heard since he met Kazuichi. Anyway, it’d be pretty rude to not introduce himself.

“Name’s Kuzuryuu Fuyuhiko.”

The barista’s eyes went a little wide, no doubt recognizing the family name. But he made no comments about it, instead just nodded.

“I’m Hinata Hajime. It’s nice to see new faces around here.”

That’s… An underwhelmingly typical name. The dragon hoped to at least find a family connected to this fae, but it seems he truly was just. A guy working in a cafe.

The momentary quiet apparently startled Hinata, as he reached to scratch his arm.

“So, you-”

“Before we change the topic again,” Fuyuhiko cut in. “Let me finish this tea. It’s getting cold.”

Hinata gave an apologetic look and a nod, before shuffling off to poke some buttons on the cash register. From the side, Fuyuhiko could appreciate just how. Nicely he fit into the scenery, with his green eyes, and hair in a shade similar to the trees, and–

Hinata turned his head and flashed him a quick smile, before going back to work, and Fuyuhiko was almost sure his heart stopped. Gh, get yourself together, you useless fucking homosexual!

“Actually, there’s something I want to ask you,” quickly start a conversation maybe then he won’t judge him for staring. “You behaved like a completely different person yesterday. I’m not tryin’ to pry, but what’s up with that?”

Hinata stopped for a moment, before resuming the apparently absolutely pointless fidgeting with the register.

“Yeah, I. Apologize for that, not very professional of me, hah?” from just the tone of his voice Fuyuhiko could guess that he stepped into something he shouldn’t have. “It was just. A long day, I barely got any sleep, and–” “Y’know what, nevermind, forget I asked.” Good job Fuyuhiko. You absolute moron. You idiot. How do you ruin your chances in a single sentence.

“Oh, no, it’s fine! I get it, it must look pretty weird from the outside, like two different people, or something!”

“Like, identical evil twin shit?”

 Hinata’s smile got wider for a moment, covering up a laugh. “I wish! Someone to cover my shifts, that’d be fantastic.”

And, alright, listen. Fuyuhiko was prying way too much, but this a matter of planning his week ahead and knowing when to come to this cafe and when to ditch it all and not expose himself to any bullshit from faes.

“So you work here alone? Sounds tough.”

“Well, not really. I’m just the only one on shift right now. My coworker will come to give me a break eventually.” said Hinata, following it with a dismissive wave of his hand.

So of course Fuyuhiko followed it with: 

“Then, when are you free?”, praying inside that his hidden intention is not picked up just yet.

“Uh, I finish my shift Friday evening?”

The intention wasn’t picked up but if Fuyuhiko had any more tea, he’d probably spit it out again. Luckily, the cold, half-finished cup laid abandoned next to him. “…it’s Tuesday.”

“Yes, well, fae don’t really need to sleep as often as most sentient species, so I can take 5-days-long shifts without much issue.” and he had the audacity to say that as if it was just a common occurrence to work for 100… something hours nonstop!

But that. Did give him quite a bit of time to get to know Hinata better…

“Sounds fuckin’ awful, I can barely stand 8 hours at work.”

Hinata responded with a chuckle, just shrugging.

“You can get used to it, I guess. Are you going to finish your tea, or-?”

Aw, shit, the tea. Yeah, it was undrinkable now anyway, and it’s not like Fuyuhiko liked it that much in the first place.

“I’ll pay, how much is it?”

“A cup will be… 300 yen.”

OH FOR FUCKS SAKE– the prices here will kill him! Drain all of his goddamn earnings!

He just took out enough bills and handed them over. Staying longer than this would be rude, even if nobody else was in the cafe. Or, that was an illusion, he just fell for an illusion, and it’s all fae tricks designed to make him lose money.

He grabbed his pillow and stood up.

“Till next time, then.”

Hinata’s brow slowly raised.

“Next time?”

But before he had to answer that question and no doubt embarrass himself further, Fuyuhiko walked right out of that cursed place.

Just one glance, through the window. And, sure enough, Hinata stood there, stood there, alive, and probably real since apparently glass resisted the illusion. Luckily, his eyes were still stuck looking at the door, so he did not see Fuyuhiko questioning his existence.

Turning away and walking down the street, the dragon took out his phone and quickly opened the chat with Peko.

  FUYU: How do you learn to enjoy coffee?

KOKO: Why are you asking? FUYU: None of your business! KOKO: It’s that barista. FUYU: …… KOKO: I knew you’d enjoy that place. :-)

[concentratedbitterness]

The Partnership

Hell: Late Neolithic Period

They’re laughing at her.  This is the thought that echoes in the demon’s mind as she makes her way down the halls of Hell’s infamous Manufacturing Department.  She is somebody now–freshly promoted just over every other shitstain in the Pit, perhaps, but rank is rank all the same–and by all rights these dungeon trolls should be groveling at her feet as they do for the other procurement personnel.  Except that they do not fall to their knees, no, they slap them with laughter.  She cannot blame them.  They all know why she is here.

Nybbas has thrust her atop a burning hill of shit and bade her build a kingdom from the ashes while the flames still rage.  It is a fools’ errand, and one he means for her to fail.  Her superior has set her up only to take the fall for him.  Given the insurmountable task, that is precisely what the entire Monarchia expects will happen–Quotas missed, contracts lost, and someone’s head must inevitably go on the chopping block–but Mara refuses to accept her likely fate without a fight.  She always has felt some masochistic drive to find a silver lining, after all, and what sparkles through the coals is the large swath of Nybbas’ territory that she now, technically, controls.  Mismanaged and neglected for countless millennia, it is a veritable desert of overgrown crossroads and yet…perhaps, with enough hard work and a healthy dose of ingenuity, there is a sliver of a chance.  

But she cannot do it alone, she knows this.  To hold fast to even the faintest hope she requires a lieutenant; a partner to watch her back, guard her meager territory, and facilitate her contracts.  Given her circumstances, however, it is not a promising proposition–she has already been turned down by every capable soldier this side of the Pit.  Hence, she has ventured here, to the racks, vying for some freshly carved scrap of a damned soul that is ignorant enough of the ways of Hell to sign their own death warrant.  Most demons churned from the bowels of the Pit are quickly claimed for the legions of far more powerful commanders than she, but maybe she will stumble at last upon a stroke of luck.  She’s about due for some.

“You there,” She says to the first torturer in the row as she draws to a halt, gaze settling upon his blade as he draws it down the belly of some poor fuck on his rack.  “–Where do they keep the unclaimed?  I…”  Her words trail off, and suddenly Mara feels as small and lost as she must surely look.    

Not often someone gets lost around the racks. Technically, no one much comes down here unless they’re strung up. It truly is a terrible place to be. That’s the point of it, after all. To one who has survived the Pit, of course, it feels half like home, but demons are made to be most comfortable in discomfort.

The old demon is up to his sleeves in metaphysical blood when he hears the voice behind him. Not that he appears bothered; he finishes his slice, blade tinged in red. “Y’don’t want them,” he says, attention on his work. “They’re all paranoid.  Sadistic.  More like hellhounds than competent soldiers.” The thing on the rack splutters and pleas. The noise is interrupting his conversation, so he sinks his blade into its lungs. Now, all it does is hiss, and he turns to look at Mara.  “I’d know,” he adds. “I made them that way.”  

The younger demon nods, swallowing thickly.  She took her turn here years ago, just like the rest, forced to toil in the Pit after what remained of the human blight on her soul had been cut away.  A distant past, perhaps, but it is not something easily forgotten.  Leaving the racks behind had seemed a step up at the time, though servitude under Nybbas is not altogether incomparable.  She was not made to be a soldier or a torturer–not in the sense that this demon was.  Some were simply meant for sales.  Hell is nothing if not a grand machine, and every cog has their part to play.  

Her eyes settle not upon the poor, decrepit soul writhing in agony on the rack, but rather on the creature attached to the hand doling it out with such practiced ease that he almost seems bored.  He’s old.  Ancient, if the power wafting off of his true form is any indication–easily a relic from a time when Hell was not so crowded as it is now.  Most of the demons who are old enough to remember such times sit comfortably atop the hierarchy–leaders; respected and feared–and yet this one seems content to do the same dirty work as the fresh grunts.  “Beggars can’t be choosers.” Mara admits, and then his words play again in her mind.  

“–You made them that way?” The crossroads demon echoes absently, gaze shifting back to the thing wheezing and hissing on the rack.  There is not exactly a standard protocol where torture in Hell is concerned–suffering is suffering and each soul requires a unique touch to divest it of human weakness–but in the end the goal of the Manufacturing Department is to produce as many viable demons from the souls procured as possible.  “It seems a waste of raw material…”

And suddenly, something occurs to her.  A spark, but it is enough.

“…A waste of your talent.”  She looks up at the other demon–really looks at him–and she can see it as clearly as the discontentment written on a human soul come to call at the crossroads.  He may be overqualified tenfold, but he is directionless; passing time waiting for something that will never find him here in the wretched squalor of the Pit.  

It is as futile a notion as reaching for the stars, but she reminds herself that even if they remain firmly swirling through the Heavens one will get a nice view, a good stretch, and perhaps even a low-hanging apple for the effort.  “I…I have a proposition for you,” She ventures, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of her lips, “How do you feel about a challenge?”

He smirks, and Mara wonders if it’s not the first time someone so low in the hierarchy has dared so much as to speak to him, let alone offer him a proposition.  “A challenge?” he says, throwing her words back at her with a mocking note. “Ain’t that a little above your paygrade?”  

“Isn’t carving duty a little below yours?” Mara retorts without missing a beat.  In truth, he is not wrong.  It is practically unheard of for someone like her to have ever been promoted to command in the first place–she’s certain the other demon knows as well as she does that it is only a technical mantle, so that when the Monarchia rains down punishment for Nybbas’ failure he will have her to offer up as a scapegoat.  Still, rank is rank, and as long as she’s got a slippery grip on this rung there is still half a chance to hold fast…perhaps one day to climb.  Let go, and she will be lucky not to find herself strapped to one of these racks again.  It is nothing if not tremendous motivation to succeed.  

The old one rips the innards out of the thing on the racks, tosses them to the ground with a wet slap. The soul’s eyes go cold and blind and that’s his cue; he steps away.  After all, breaking things is easy. Taking things to the very brink of collapse and then pulling away right before they shattered…that required a little more finesse.  Task complete, he turns all of his attention to the demon in front of him now. “You’re Nybbas’s bitch, right?” No need to mince words down here. “I like your grit, but you don’t got anything to offer me.”

She takes a small step back as a tangle of entrails drops unceremoniously to the floor, blood and ichor splattering her toes.  The gore does not perturb her, but she will need to shed this host before venturing back to the sales floor lest Nybbas’ hounds catch the scent of fresh meat upon her.  It is of little consequence–the younger demon has never possessed one long enough to grow attached; that is a custom reserved for those who have achieved success.

“Best you not let Nybbas hear you call me that,” She warns, “–He will take the comparison as an insult to his dogs.”  This is not news to any demon who knows of her superior or his two ferocious hellhounds.  There is a flicker of defeat in her eyes when the older demon seems to turn her down, but there is too much riding on this chance and she wills it away quickly.  “That was not a ‘no’,” She points out hopefully, clearly not ready to give up.  “It is true, I haven’t much to offer.  Yet.  But I will.  If you help me, I will.  In the meantime, it costs you nothing to step away from this…” She waves a hand absently at the mutilated soul, “…The Damned will still be here.  How many eons have you stood tethered to these same racks; trying to find some new way to hack on these same tired souls?  If you pledge service to me I will have leave to take you Topside; to the mortal realm…to a territory that has not known what it is to fear a demon in over a thousand years.  Yours could be the face in their nightmares.  I won’t lie to you, the work will be long and grueling, but you are not afraid to get your hands dirty, are you?” Her gaze flicks to the bloodsoaked hands in question, “Take a chance on me, that is all I ask.  Let me show you what I can do.  You have nothing to lose if I fail, but if I succeed you have everything to gain.  We are not so different, you and I.  We have nowhere to go but up.”

“Topside, huh?”

Clearly, she has his attention. “Topside,” She confirms with a nod.  Short of a formal summons, the only way a Pit demon goes Topside is in the service of a salesman.

Mara can feel him sizing her up, deciding perhaps whether or not to devour her on the spot.  She has no doubt that he could.  He glances away, considers it for only a second, and then he finally says, casually, “Alright.  I’ll pledge five years Topside to you.  Then we’ll reconsider.”

Her eyes go wide when the old demon nonchalantly pledges five years to her.  He’s teasing me, she thinks at first, but then it becomes obvious that he’s serious and it is all she can do to stand there dumbly before him.  And then, before she even realizes it, she’s laughing.  Five years is not much, but for her conundrum it is ironically more than necessary.  “We only have three,” she tells him, any trace of amusement quickly fading.  

Three years to turn around a territory that has not been quota compliant for centuries.  The demon steps over the pile of entrails at her feet, poking a finger at the other demon’s chest as she peers up at him, “I make you this promise–It will not be easy; you are going to work harder than you have ever worked, we will struggle, we will not rest, and I don’t care if I have to suck every cock in the territory to do it, I am going to get the contracts I need…and in three years time you will stand by my side as I throw a sales report in Nybbas’ face that will make his head spin.  I will not fail, I swear it.  I won’t forget who helped me do it.  And you–” She doesn’t even know his name, “–You will not regret taking a chance on me.”  She rolls up onto her toes to press a chaste kiss to the old demon’s lips, sealing their business contract.  “Get your things.  We have so much work to do.”    

[mermaidcashton]

i hate to admit it

author: claire (@mermaidcashton) ship: michael clifford/reader prompt/AU: this is a gift for the wonderful @h0tsos who wanted soft, subby Michael in an enemies to lovers capacity (and i snuck some coffee shop!au in there as well, and some weebness because, well, it’s Steff and Michael) wordcount: 4k+ warnings: swearing, alcohol mentions, explicit sexual content a/n: • written for @maluminspace & @h0tsos ‘s 5sos fic writers collab (which was a gift exchange this time around) • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘this means war’ by mariana’s trench • ‘my hero academia’ is a manga/anime series. there are references to it and a few of the characters in this but you don’t need to know anything about it to understand what’s going on.

i hate to admit it *** “So, they’re like...superheroes?” 

Luke sipped on his glass of rosé, nodding like he understood whilst making a face that showed he absolutely did not.

“Yeah, dude, pretty much!” Michael nodded along with your co-worker with so much enthusiasm he looked like one of those dogs people put on their dashboards. Except less cute. Wait, no - not cute. Definitely not cute at all. Good save, you. Couldn’t have your own internal monologue thinking you felt anything for the moron you were forced to work with 3 times a week was anything more than an annoyance you had to endure. With a butt that wouldn’t quit. Dammit, self! 

Michael took advantage of Luke showing an interest in his (and yours) favourite anime, and began bombarding him with half baked theories, predictable favourite scenes and shitty character analysis. He nearly knocked his own hat off as he flailed his hands around in an attempt at explaining the dynamics of a battle from the second season. Luke smiled politely. 

You snorted into your drink as you drained the last of it; you were definitely going to need another. If Michael started fanboying over Deku again, you were going to scream.

As you placed the empty bottle onto the wood of the coffee table, you took another glance around the apartment you were in. You’d never been up here before, despite spending a minimum of 20 hours a week in the coffee shop downstairs. But after this evening’s staff meeting tackling such issues as ‘who forgot that milk needs to be kept in the fridge overnight’ (Luke), ‘who is putting too much whipped cream on hot chocolates’ (Michael), and ‘who wrote ‘THIS COFFEE IS HOT, BUT U R HOTTER ❤ ) on a customers caramel macchiato’ (Luke again), Ashton had invited you all upstairs for a ‘employee chill’. You had been surprised a week or so into your employment when you had found out that the manager was also the owner who lived in the apartment above Screamin’ Beans; he was only in his mid twenties, but the more you’d experienced his drive and determination, the more your surprise had dwindled. Ashton really was a great guy, with one big flaw; Michael. They had been best friends for years, hence him moving into the apartment when he came back into town and the job Ashton had given him; which in your humble opinion was the equivalent of setting a monkey loose on the milk frother.   

Michael had sealed his fate with you the same day he’d started work. He arrived 10 minutes late (from upstairs), sleepy eyed and shy smiled. His fluffy blonde hair was spilling out of his beanie, and he kept biting his very pink lip bottom with sharp little teeth. The way he pronounced your name was adorable. You’d burned your hand on the espresso machine. Strike one. Things unravelled quickly after that. He was ‘too shy’ to take orders and work the register so you were stuck there all day talking to goddamn customers about why it wasn’t a good idea to have 3 pumps of every syrup while he hid behind silver machinery and dirtied way more jugs than you deemed necessary. Strike two. And then he’d dropped a latté into that ladies bag - sorry, very expensive bag. Michael had let out a ‘uuuhhh’ sound like a malfunctioning robot without moving for so long that the furious customer had stopped trying to yell at him and focused her rage on you instead. When he had eventually come to whatever passed for his senses, Michael had power walked into the employee bathroom and didn’t return until Calum arrived to join the shift and assured him the woman had left, twenty minute later. You were beyond strikes. You’d been so sure you could talk Ashton into scheduling you together as little as possible. There was no reason to put you down to work nearly every shift together, especially shifts where only two staff were on! Except, apparently there was because he kept fucking doing it. Every time you pressed Ashton on it, he’d say something about how he needed Michael ‘trained by the best’, or ‘matching availabilities’, or he thought their ‘energies combined well; auras are meshing, y’know?’ The one might have been on you for catching him as he was returning from his Vibe Check Yoga class at the studio down the street. 

He’d also emphasised that Michael needed more friends now he was back in the city, and you two had loads in common! You both liked pop punk! You’d rolled your eyes. And Italian food! A ‘tch noise. And anime! Okay, you’d bite. 

The next time you’d gone into work, you’d engaged Michael in a conversation about ‘Tokyo Ghoul’ and recommended ‘Demon Slayer’; things started to pick up. You didn’t fantasise about locking Michael in the walk-in fridge the whole shift. And then…

“You watch ‘My Hero Academia’, right?” “Uh, yeah! I love it.” “Me too! I just ordered a Todoroki tee yesterday. And another Deku one, of course; gotta rep my main man!” “Oh..cool! He’s your favourite?” Of course Michael was a basic bitch. But hey, that’s fine. Deku was fine. He was the main character, after all. And he’s a little less whiny in the recent manga issues, you guess. And the way Michael’s face was right now - open, comfortable, lit up like the 4th of July? That was good, too. His eyes were so green.  “Yeah! Who’s your favourite character?” “Well, I would die for a bunch of ‘em, but I’m a Bakugou girl at heart.” You laid a palm flat on your chest, choosing to ignore the feel of your heart beating faster than it had been five minutes ago beneath it.  Michael wrinkled his nose. “Bakugou? But he’s like...he’s so mean! And angry!”

Oh no. You’d had this conversation before. You locked eyes with Michael, hoping he could see the warning in your eyes. Don’t do it, ho.

“Like, he’d probably make a better villain than hero!”

“You okay, boo?” Calum slid into the space on the couch beside you, holding out a fresh beer for you to take. “You look deep in thought.”

You hummed and accepted the bottle from him, letting go of your train of thought as you caught sight of Luke trying to prove he could get his overly long leg behind his head. Michael and Ashley F. were both actively trying to avoid getting kicked in the face with a sparkly boot, whilst Ashton was just monitoring the situation very intently; you’re not entirely sure when he last blinked. 

You snorted again as Luke’s foot slotted into place in a position you were 85% sure he would not be able to get out of again without assistance, possibly from the emergency services.

“I’m fine. Gotta be one of us capable of thinking here, y’know.” You teased, looking sidelong at Calum. He laughed, rubbing a hand over his freshly shaved hair; he’d always been as easy to get along with as he was obnoxiously handsome. “Hey! You’re lucky I know you’re talking about the human pretzel over there! And I guess, your boyf-” Big brown eyes glittered at you over the hand you’d slapped over his mouth. “-fwendth.” Narrowing your own eyes at your friend, you hissed. “Shut up! I would rather die.” Calum waggled his eyebrows incessantly at you until you relented and dropped your hand. “You knew who I was talking about, though.” Ugh. Smug was not a good look on Calum. “You know, smug is not a good lo-oh fuck, is that the time?” The clock behind Calum’s head showed 8:58; your auction ended at 9:00. You fumbled into your bag for your phone, unlocking it and flicking straight to the app you needed. Phew - still the top bid. “Whatcha doin’?” Calum hooked his chin over your shoulder, blowing your hair out of his face before settling down. 

“Bidded on a really cool, limited edition figure. One of my all time favourite anime characters. The auction is about to end.” You explained,  making sure Calum could hear you other the cacophony of sounds associated with Luke trying to get his other leg behind his head. You both watched the seconds tick down, your username sitting securely by the words ‘Winning Bid’. At two seconds to nine, the page refreshed, then refreshed again; it was over.

‘Winning Bid: BIGRED69’ “Uh...what happened? That’s not you, right?” Calum asked, tilting his head to look at your face, and the rage it contained. BIGRED69. He’d done it again. 

“Uh oh, Y/N - what’s wrong?” Ashton’s voice pulled you out of your internal screaming, and you looked up at him. 

“She’s losing her weeb shit at a heavy eBay loss” Calum answered for you, nodding solemnly as he pulled away from you, giving you room to bonk him with a cushion. “Oh! That’s too bad, but that’s another thing you and Mikey have in common!” Ashton beamed. “Mikey!” Oh no. Oh no, no.

“Yeah?” Michael sloped over, getting his black boot caught on the corner of the leopard print rug as he did. Ashton caught him with an ease you suspected (knew) came from practice. “Why don’t you take Y/N to see your anime dolls? She collects them, too!” Ashton looked so pleased with himself and his suggestion for further ‘bonding’ for you and Michael, and Michael looked like he’d been force fed raw lemon at the phrase ‘anime dolls’, so you let it go on your own behalf. Except now Michael was waiting expectantly for you to follow him to his room and Calum was shoving you off of the couch to get you moving. Fuck your life. You sighed as you got up and started walking. “Fine, let’s go; you can show me your Todoroki body pillow and then we can get on with our lives.” Michael let out a small hiss like an angry kitten, his cheeks colouring a pretty pink. He spared a glance at everyone left in your wake. “I, um, don’t have a body pillow, you guys.” “Suuuuure!” You rolled your eyes, waiting for Michael to enter his bedroom so you could follow. The blonde flicked the light on and moved slightly further in so you could pass him, before shutting the door with a small ‘click’. You decided not to comment on this action, looking around at the posters on the walls and figurines on the shelves instead. You were undecided on whether or not you were going to comment on how cool a lot of Michael’s shit was. A ‘Full Metal Alchemist’ poster over his bed, a full shelf of Funko Pops from movies you loved, framed prints of album artwork by Waterparks and The Maine. Fuck. You were really aware of Michael staring at you with an almost hopeful (?) look on his face as you let your eyes travel around his room before he could show you his ‘anime dolls’. Fuck. Your stomach felt fluttery, and you thought you might have a serious problem here, before you caught sight of a very different problem on Michael’s desk. 

A rare Kirishima Eijirou statue - box signed by the voice actor - you’d been outbid on last month. By BIGRED69. What were the chances a different one was sitting by Michael’s laptop?

“So,” You said, trying to keep your voice neutral and non-murderous. “Where do you get your collectibles from?” “Forbidden Planet, Tokyo Toys, eBay…” Michael rattled off, until you interrupted him. “Where did you get that one? Looks rare - it must have been difficult!” 

“Oh! eBay! It was, but I have an app for it, so…” Michael grinned, looking pleased with himself. An app? “An automatic bidding app? You sniped me?! That’s cheating!” You squeaked; you could not believe this. It was unbelievable.

Michael blinked at you, head empty. “BIGRED69?!” You managed to make the world’s stupidest screen name sound like a terrible accusation. Which it was.

Comprehension dawned on his stupid, beautiful face all at once. “Oh my God! That was you that I’ve been fighting for this stuff? No way! But you didn’t know it was me?”

“Why the hell would I know it was you!” You threw your hands up, and Michael just stared dopily back at you.

“‘Bigred69?! Obviously I assumed you were 12!” Michael let out a squawk of protest, before folding his arms defensively across his chest.

“Clifford!” “What?” Michael’s tone became more insistent. “My last name! Clifford!” You pulled an exaggerated ‘so?!’ face, throwing your hand in the air again. 

Michael had the unmitigated gall to huff, like you were the biggest idiot in the room; like he wasn’t always the biggest idiot in every room, all rooms, ever, in the history of rooms. “Clifford the Big Red Dog!” He said, insistence heavy in the words.

You often swore you could almost hear the old internet dial up tone trilling inside Michael’s brain when customers at the coffee shop asked him such difficult questions as “What dairy alternative milks do you carry?”, “Where is the bathroom?”, and even once - you swear - “What’s your name?”. In Michael’s defence, that last one had been asked in more flirtatious-than-not tone by a brunette who clearly had some kind of vision problem (he’d been dressed more horrendously than usual that day beneath his uniform apron; was that a utility vest?!), but had fluttered her eyelashes at your idiot colleague so hard, for so long, you’d been concerned she’d be leaving without what little vision she’d arrived with. But still. Idiot. Michael, not you. And yet, now it was you with your brain puttering through the information you had with the shrill electronic sound of the 90’s in your head. “Clifford the- are you for fucking real?” This could not be real life.

“It’s totally clever!” Michael asserted, continuing in earnest once you scoffed in reply. “No, listen! Because of Clifford, and also, I had red hair when I made it, and 69 is funny - it is! - and, well-” His face flushed slightly before he puffed his chest out a little, apparently deciding to commit to his defence of his screen name. “I’m big, so it works on like, loads of levels!” 

This could not be happening to you. You were decidedly not standing in the bedroom of a coworker you simultaneously couldn’t stand and also couldn’t stop thinking about kissing as you restocked the counter fridges in the evenings, as he explained that his auction site handle was a combination of a previous dye job, an insinuation about his dick and a massive fucking dog. You could not let Michael have the upper hand here, but you were floundering. So you fell into more familiar, more pathetic territory. 

“If you were called something like ‘deku-loving-loser’, then, sure - I would have known it was you!” “Who’s 12 now?!” “Uh, still you!” Okay, so this wasn’t your finest moment, but you were in it now. And you’d really wanted the Kaminari figure tonight. Michael didn’t even like him that much!

“The point is, you totally sniped me! And you get stuff about basic canon wrong! And your understanding of the characters is one dimensional! And, and...your hat is stupid!” Well, shit. In your defence, Michael’s hat was stupid. You could feel how hot your face was, and Michael’s eyes looking right at it was only making it worse. You couldn’t read his expression at all; he looked like he was searching for something, and you didn’t know what it was, or if he’d find it. You could only assume he had when he took the most decisive steps you’d ever seen him take, reaching you in two huge steps and cupping your face with both hands. Michael kissed in a way he didn’t do anything else; he felt sure and certain as he pressed his lips to yours, moving them with intent. Your brain became overtaken with television static almost immediately as you moved your mouth in time with his, opening your mouth immediately at the questioning press of his tongue. You had enough of yourself left aware to yank his stupid fucking hat off his head as you tangled your fingers in his blonde hair, Michael’s hands sliding down to clutch at your waist as you swayed with the kiss. As Michael pulled back ever so slightly, you took the opportunity to press your teeth into his plush bottom lip, the way you’d thought of doing in afternoon slumps on shift. The whine that came from deep in Michael’s throat made a split second decision for you. 

You pulled back further from Michael, yanking your top off in one go and starting in on the buttons of his black shirt before he fully registered the sight of your bra and the top of your full breasts.  

“Shit, Y/N, are you…” Michael trailed off as you pulled his sleeves down his arms, and the shirt off this body. Your eyes met his as you popped the button on his black jeans and placed your hand on his zipper. “Do you really want me to overthink this, Michael?” A moment’s pause, then he shook his head vigorously, leaning down to pull his boots off once you’d yanked his jeans to his knees. By the time he was left in his (funnily enough, black) boxer briefs, you’d discarded your own jeans and were knelt at the foot of his bed in your soft, lilac underwear. Michael’s breath hitched as his gaze drifted down your body, taking it all in under the artificial light of the room. “Get over here, Clifford…” You teased, trying not to second guess what was happening. Michael broke out of his trance and more or less threw himself onto the bed, settling his head on the pillows and pulling you on top of him for another kiss, and then another, and another. By the time you pulled back to catch your breath, your head was spinning. You braced yourself on your forearms on the bed, taking the time to admire Michael’s body beneath you. 

You’d seen the tattoos on his pale, strong arms before, but they looked different in this context; the contrast between the milky skin and dark ink made your stomach swoop. The blonde hair on his head is also a contradiction; to the dark hair on his chest and the hair trailing down his stomach and disappearing under his waistband. Your mouth felt very dry as you let your gaze continue downward, to the straining bulge beneath the fabric.

You flicked your eyes back to meet Michael’s in question, your fingers suddenly resting on the waistband of his underwear. Michael swallowed thickly, and then nodded once before fixing you with a gaze of pure anticipation. 

No use waiting around. You propped yourself up onto your knees over him and pulled on the fabric decisively, not stopping your motion until his underwear bunched up at his ankles. Holy shit.

You always knew Michael had to have at least one redeeming quality, and you’d finally found it. His cock was huge, hanging heavy and hard between his fuzzy thighs. The head was flushed the darkest pink you could ever remember seeing, and the slit was already shiny with precum. 

If a voice in your head that sounded unfortunately like Calum pressed that Michael had lots of qualities you secretly found redeeming, you ignored it in favour of getting straight to business.

“FUCK! FUCKIN-” 

Apparently, Michael hadn’t been prepared for you to take half of his impressive length into your mouth in one go. You sucked with intent, casting your eyes up to take in the sight of him. His pupils were already starting to blow, and you’d barely done anything. God, that was so sweet.

But then Michael threaded his fingers through your hair, his hand pressing ever so slightly into your scalp. The blonde wasn’t pushing down, but his grip was firm. You could feel the weight of his hand on the top of your head as you held his cock in your mouth, and that shit? Would not stand.

You grab the wrist brushing your hair a second before your other hand finds his idle one, fingers twisted loosely in the sheets. Once you’ve captured both wrists, you guide both to the same point above Michael’s hips, before slamming both into the mattress with purpose. 

If you’d had time to think about it, you’re not sure how you would have expected Michael to react. He didn’t really put out the energy of a man who’d properly fight you for control, either in a domineering way or with more of an air of fragile masculinity. Perhaps a bit of questioning but ultimately compliant as long as he got his dick sucked. But the wanton moan that kicked out of Michael’s chest as you settled into a tight grip on his wrists where you had them pinned on the sheets with intent? That was unexpected. That was interesting.   

Your mouth had remained still on his cock whilst you got his wrists pinned down, more cockwarming him than blowing him. But now you had him so pliant and under your control, it was go time. You pulled back up his cock, wrapping your lips tightly around the head of Michael’s cock, and sucked with gusto. Another groan from above you. You worked your tongue all the way around the head before pulling back enough to flick it into Michael’s sensitive slit. “Oh my fuuu- Y/N, God, I-” Michael was starting to writhe, his hairy legs rubbing into the sheets beneath you. You could feel his wrists moving along with the rest of his body, but you knew you’d made it clear you’d wanted him pinned, and he made no move to get his hand free. Good boy. You sank steadily back down Michael’s length, at least to the six inch mark, before pulling back up, hollowing your cheeks as you went. Back down a little further, then up, back to teasing the head, using your tongue. Michael couldn’t predict what you were going to do next, and it was clearly pushing all of his buttons. You could taste the precum that his cock kept kicking out into your mouth and throat, and see the flush spreading down his neck. By the time you’d pulled, drool beginning to build at the sides of your mouth, Michael was a mess, moaning as much as he was breathing. This could get addictive, you thought to yourself as you let your mouth drop to his balls, and your thumbs press into the pulse points on his wrists. You hummed before you released his left ball from your mouth with a wet pop, and that’s when Michael started begging. “Please, please, Y/N, I wanna-” he panted, cutting himself off over and over. “You’re so beautiful, lemme- God, fuck, it feels so amazing, you’re- I’ve been good, I’ll do anything, please…”

You pretend to consider his pleas as you dragged your tongue over his right ball, dipping into all the creases and leaving them wet behind you. Drawing back up onto your knees, you released one of his wrists so you could push his sweaty blonde bangs back from where it was plastered to his forehead, drinking in the vision before you. His green eyes were nearly completely black, blown out with arousal. The sheen on the skin of his face and body made him glow. His lips were chapped from his teeth tugging on them, and the pink of the matched the flush spread from his cheeks down his chest. And the wrist you were no longer restraining hadn’t moved a centimeter, still pressed firmly to the mattress. Michael was a good boy. And you knew how to treat good boys. With no preamble, you took Michael back into the wet heat of your mouth, relaxing your throat and not stopping until your nose was buried in the soft thatch of trimmed hair on his crotch. You took a moment to situate yourself and enjoy the deep whines bursting out of Michael’s throat into the quiet of his bedroom, before you began to move again, swallowing around his cock. You saw his thighs begin to tremble to the side of you before you heard him speak. “Fuck, fuck, Y/N, please, I’m gonna-” You hummed as hard as you could, pushing Michael’s wrists with that little bit more force into the bed as you did. Michael let out his loudest whine yet - bordering on a sob- as he came, shooting down your throat as he writhed beneath you. 

You swallowed everything he gave you, and when you were sure he was finished, you pulled off slowly, and gently, releasing his wrists as you stood back up on your knees.

Michael looked blissed out, staring dreamily up at you with bright, adoring eyes. He still was yet to move his hands. “Hey.” “Hi.” You smirked down at him. “I believe I heard something about you’d ‘do anything’?” You shot a quick glance at the figurine on his desk, and down at yourself. “I had some ideas…” 

collab masterlist • my masterlist

[ilovefandoms102]

Part 15

Summary: The Pogues are on a mission to get the price on the gold. JJ’s anger issues have become more present recently, will this put a strain on your relationsip?

Taglist:

@ma10427 @lasnaro @certainstatesmantoadartisan @iamaunicorn4704 @fernweh-fangirl @justcallmesams @sspidermanss @tangledinsparkles @jellyfishbeansontoast @hurricane-abigail @outerbongs @gviosca @eb15

Part 14 Part 16 

Note: As always, hope you guys enjoy! Feel free to let me know what you guys think!

===============================================

The Pogues and Sarah Cameron were currently sitting at the bar in The Wreck since both Kie and I had to work this morning. We were deciding about how we were going to find out how much the bar of gold was worth. 

“We could at least take it to one of the pawn shops here” Pope said. 

“I think we should find somewhere no one will ask questions” I said while wiping down the counter. 

“Doubt we will find that anywhere around here bub” John B said.

“I could always ask my dad where to go pawning” Sarah said.

“Hell no, we don’t need your Kook family looking into what we’re doing” JJ said, leaning back on the stool.

A group of guys came walking in The Wreck, obviously tourons since none of us recognized them. One looked over where Kie and I were, looked us up and down and turned to his friends, pointing at us and Sarah. I looked over at the guys and saw them glaring holes into their heads. 

“You better not wait on them,” JJ growled, turning back to glare at me.

“I have to, that’s my section” I said looking for my note pad.

“Babe” JJ said, going to grab my arm.

“JJ stop it, I’m at work. You think this is the first time tourons have flirted with me or Kie?” I snapped. JJ huffed, pulling his hat so it was backwards and flopping back into his stool again. 

I walked over to their table, smiling since I had to.

“Hi guys, welcome to the Wreck. What can I get you all started to drink?” I asked, my fake customer service voice on point. 

“I’d like to take a sip of you” one of them said, staring me up and down. I laughed uncomfortably.

“Sorry, I have a boyfriend. Anyways, drinks?” I asked again.

I took their drinks and food orders, turning back to take the ticket to the kitchen. Another guy whistling as I walked away. My brother turning around to say something, but Sarah yanked him back around. JJ’s fists balling up on the counter, his face getting redder by the minute.

“Honey, it’s ok. Calm down J.” I reached over, covering one of his fists. JJ had been on edge all day, his temper flaring at the smallest inconvenience.

“Please guys, do not make a scene” Kie said, taking my ticket to the kitchen.

I served a few other guests while waiting on the tourons order. I walked back over to ask if anyone needed refills. 

“Are you sure you have a boyfriend?” they asked.

“I’m pretty sure, he’s the blonde guy over there” I pointed towards JJ who was watching me like a hawk. A look of pure anger on his face. 

“I think you should reconsider hot stuff.” one of them said. I faked laughed again, feeling so uncomfortable but putting on a brave face in order to keep both JJ and John B at bay.   

I took them their food, having to lean over some of them to place their plates in front of them. That’s when things went south.....one of the guys thought it would be a lovely idea to not only look down my shirt, but also try to cop a feel. Then another guys hand trailed up my thigh to my ass. 

“Can you like not dude” I said, shoving their hands away.

“I’d like to know why you think it’s ok for you to put your nasty ass hands on my girlfriend” JJ said, putting his hands on their table.

“JJ stop, I’m handling it” I said, tugging at his shirt.

“Yeah pretty boy, why don’t you go back to your seat so we can enjoy the view.” one said putting their hands behind their head. 

JJ was gripping the table so tight his knuckles were starting to turn white. I continued to tug on his shirt to try and get him away, but he wasn’t budging. I looked to my friends for help.

“JJ, let’s go these guys ain’t worth it” John B said, patting JJ’s shoulder. 

As they were walking away one of them said something that triggered both my brother and JJ. 

“You best bet I’m baggin’ that piece of ass before we leave” they said. 

JJ turned around so fast I didn’t have time to grab a hold of him and picked the guy up and drug him outside. His friends and mine following. Kie and I had to stay inside, so we went out to the deck where no one was seated.

“JJ!” I yelled.

There was a lot of pushing around, Pope obviously trying to diffuse the situation. The guy that made the disgusting comment about me was chest to chest with JJ, both of them pointing in each others faces. Kie grabbed my hand, I in turn grabbed her arm, both of us knowing what was about to go down and all we could do was watch. 

“You have zero respect man!” JJ yelled. 

“What part of ‘I’m taken’ do you not get?” my brother asked, focusing on the one that grabbed my ass. 

“She’s hot dude, did you really think we believed that she was taken by you?” one said. 

“You know nothing about me or any of us” JJ spat.

“I couldn’t give a shit less, but I know I’m going to show that bitch a damn good time since she’s probably fakin’ it with you blondie” the guy in front of JJ said, his friends laughing with him.

“You’re a literal piece of shit” Sarah butted in.

“Wouldn’t mind you joinin’ in hot stuff” the guy by John B said.

“Oh shit” Kie and I said.

My brother’s head snapped up, furry clear in his face as he smashed his fist into the guy’s nose. Fists were flying everywhere, I couldn’t keep up with who was hitting who. I know one thing is that I was beyond furious with them, especially JJ. I mean, yeah what they did was way out of line. But, this was my job, I was hit on by creeps all the time I can handle myself. I stormed back inside, not caring to watch anymore of the fight. 

A few hours later, John B, Pope, Sarah, and JJ came back in. They didn’t look too rough, just a couple scratches. By the looks of how angry they were, I’m sure the tourons look worse. They sat back at their seats, eating the rest of what Kie and I made them. It was almost closing time, so Kie and I started shutting everything down. I hadn’t said a word to JJ, anytime he tried to reach for me or talk to me I walked away.

“Dang, you really messed up this time dude.” Pope said.

“Fuck me,” JJ sighed, laying his head down on the counter. 

We drove home in silence, I was still boiling with anger both my brother and JJ making the wise decision not to speak to me. I dropped everyone off, John B choosing to stay with Sarah for the night to which I just nodded. So it was now just JJ and I in the van. 

“Sweets” he started.

“Don’t JJ, please, just don’t talk to me. I’m so angry with you right now I could literally beat your ass.” I spat out, not turning to look at him and focusing on the road.

“I know I messed up, I was just trying to protect you and-” he said.

“Protect me JJ?! Really?! You went full out psycho on the guys!” I shouted.

“They fucking groped you! You really expected me to sit there and let them do that to you babe?!” he yelled.

“If you hadn’t gone full caveman, you would have seen I was about to handle the situation!” I said. “You really think shit like that hasn’t happened before?” I asked.

“Well I’m sorry I lost my cool ok?!” he shouted at me, banging his hands on the dash.

“JJ that was more than losing your cool! If Mr.C had been there, I’d be lucky if I still had a job! JJ this wasn’t just us being somewhere random. This was at my JOB, our main source of income.” I said.

“I know, I know babe. I’m sorry.” he huffed at me, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’re so fucking dumb sometimes...” I sighed, leaning my head on my hand. We pulled into the chateau, I parked and turned the van off.

“I’m dumb for you sweets” he said, now smirking. I rolled my eyes, getting out and heading to my room. My brother calling me as I was about to fall asleep.

“What’s up?” I asked, worried something was wrong.

“I just wanted to say sorry bubba, what we did wasn’t cool. Especially at your place of work.” John B said,

“It’s ok Birdie, I know you guys were just trying to protect me” I mumbled. 

“Alright well, that’s all I wanted. I’ll see you tomorrow to go to that pawn shop. I love you bubs.” he said.

“Love you more JB” I smiled.

I plugged my phone back in before tossing back over, facing away from JJ.

“Come on babe, I said I was sorry” he said, trying to pull on my shoulder. 

I shrugged him off, scooting further away. JJ moved up to try and spoon me, to which I pushed him away.

“Get off J” I said, annoyed with what I would usually love from him.

“Fuck, fine” he sighed, turning away from me.

I tossed and turned for what felt like hours, not finding a comfortable position since I’m always cuddling with JJ. I couldn’t let myself give in, he needed to know what he did was not ok with me. I lasted a little longer before finally giving in, I wanted to sleep and couldn’t do that without JJ.

“Babe?” I asked.

“Yeah” he muttered sleepily. 

“Don’t suppose you’d still be up for cuddling?” I asked hesitantly.

He flipped over to face me, his blue eyes cracking open.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asked.

“Not so much anymore...just promise me to never lose it like that at my work. Any other time is ok, well it’s not ok but it’s better than being at work” I rambled.

“I promise” JJ said. 

We scooted closer together, putting our arms around each other. 

“You still love me?” JJ asked, bumping his nose with mine. 

“Oh my JJ” I laughed.

“Babe, seriously I need to know” he whined.

“You think that I’m not going to love you anymore because you got into a fight defending my honor baby?” I asked, still laughing. I leaned in to kiss his nose to which he returned.  “I love you so much honey bear, nothing would make me not love you.” I said staring into his eyes.

“And I love you sweets” he said smiling at me. 

We fell into a peaceful slumber, holding tight to each other.

Next Morning:

“FUCK” JJ screamed.

I jumped awake, my heart racing. I jumped out of bed and ran to where I heard JJ. He was slamming around pots and pans, smoke everywhere.

“What happened? Are you ok?” I asked.

“No, I fucking burned myself on this damn stove” he huffed.

“What are you doing?” I asked, walking closer to inspect.

“I was trying to be a good boyfriend and make you breakfast, but everything has gone to shit.” He said, throwing the spatula he was using down. He raked his hands through his messy blonde hair and leaned on the counter. 

“Aww J, you’re so sweet baby” I said, coming up behind him and hugging him from behind. 

“I fucking ruined it, just like I ruin everything in my life” he muttered. I squeezed him tighter to me. 

“Hey, don’t talk like that. Everyone has bad cooking days honey. Do you not remember just last week I almost set the place on fire?” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, but I just wanted to do something special for you” he said, rubbing his hands over his face. I made him turn around to face me, his arms going around my waist.

“It’s ok, how about we cook together? Quality couple time.” I suggested, getting up on my toes to kiss him. I pulled away, finally getting a small smile from him.

“You always know how to make me feel better baby” he said, hugging me before letting me go so we could set up.

The Pogues and Sarah all piled in just as we were finishing, my assumption being that JJ texted that we were having a family breakfast. 

“It smells so good in here bubba” John B said, coming to look over my shoulder, stealing a piece of bacon.

“Bub, stop!” I yelled, smacking his hand with the fork I was using to fry the bacon.

“Ow!” he shouted, smacking my arm.

“Alright you two settle down” Kie said.

We all sat and ate the amazing breakfast JJ and I made, discussing today’s plans. 

“Ok, so JJ is our negotiator and we all need to nonchalantly pretend we know nothing.” John B said.

“Whatever, as long as we get no cops called on us” I said, leaning back in my chair.

Kie and Sarah offered to clean up while JJ and I got ready since everyone else was all ready to go. We quickly got ready and headed to the pawn shop. John B drove while Kie, JJ, and I smoked a blunt in the back. Pope was not amused and complained how bad it smelt the whole way there. 

We finally arrived at the pawn shop, each of us going in one at a time. John B staying closer to JJ to confirm the amount of what they offered was good.

“I know for a fact that this is worth at least $140k” JJ said.

“70 and I ask no questions.″ the woman offered. JJ looked at my brother, both of them nodding.

“90, or I walk” JJ stated firmly.

“Well I don’t have that kind of money here, you’ll have to go to the warehouse, you down with that?” the woman asked. JJ smirked in return.

“So where is this warehouse?” JJ asked.

We got an address, piled back in the van, and made our way to this warehouse. We were all so excited that this was actually happening, we were going to be filthy rich. We talked about what we were going to do with our cuts of the gold when we heard a siren.

“What the hell?” JB said.

We turned around and saw a dark blue vehicle with a siren coming through the dashboard of the car. All of us confused since we weren’t speeding, and I had everything up to date. 

“JJ, the weed!” I said. We quickly stashed it under the seat.

“Did you bring the gun?” my brother asked.

“No, everyone kept saying to leave it” JJ said.

“Put your hands where I can fucking see them” a man shouted.

I looked and saw a man with a shotgun pointed in John B’s face. He had a ski mask on to cover his face, so I couldn’t tell if it was someone we knew. John B slowly got out of the car, his hands still raised.

“Let them out, don’t move your fucking hands bro” the man said shaking his gun at us.

John B opened the back door to let us out. Me being the first one out, I was so fucking scared I started shaking.

“Come on pretty girl” he said.”Now lay down in the ditch, put your heads on the ground” he shoved us down pointing the gun at each of us.

“Dude we’re broke you won’t find anything in there”  JJ said.

“Boy you better shut up or I’ll blow your brains out” the man spat.

I wanted to grab on to JJ, but I was too afraid to move. A thought hit me then.

“That bitch set us up” I mumbled.

“Damn it!” JJ yeled, punching at the ground. His breathing becoming erratic and his face full of furry.

While the guy was searching the van I looked over at his vehicle, I knew he was after the gold. If I could get in the back and he got back in, I could provide a distraction so they could get the gold back and we make a run for it. I scooted closer to the end of the van, keeping an eye out to see if the guy noticed.

“What the hell are you doing?!” JJ whisper yelled. I held up my finger, telling him to be quiet.

“Bubba no” John B said.

I snuck over to his car and climbed into the back,I took the keys out of the ignition, and leaned back in the seat.

“Stay just like that if you don’t want your fucking heads blown off! Alright?!” the man shouted. I threw myself down into the back seat so he couldn’t see me.

The man walked back to the car, he got in going to turn the key. I jumped up and punched him in the face, grabbing for the gun. We tugged it back and forth before I got a hold of it, darting out of the car. The man followed, he lunged for me before JJ came and threw a punch. The guy hit him back before Pope hit him, the guy shoved him off. Kie, surprisingly tried to throw a punch, but the guy threw her to the ground. I cocked the gun and fired off a round, everyone freezing.

“I think it’s your turn to get on the ground bitch” I said, point the gun at the man who attacked us.

JJ walked over and pushed him down, yanking his mask off.

“I know this piece of shit, sells coke to my dad” JJ said.

“Barry” I mumbled, everyone on the island knew him. He was the local baseman.

“More than likely knows Rafe” Sarah said.

I walked closer to him, JJ getting the mans wallet and inspecting it.

“I’ll remember this you little bitch!” Barry yelled, I took the butt of the gun and slammed it into his face.

“Woah chill” Kie said.

I threw the gun in the back of the van, turning back to look at my friends. JJ stalking towards the drivers seat, I followed into the passenger seat. He took off, driving in the opposite direction of the chateau.

“Where are we going babe?” I asked.

“Got one more stop to make sweets” he said, determination in his eyes. 

==============================================

[jaysdimples]

🎮 30 Questions Tag Game 🎮

i was tagged by my babes @casnextdoor & @deepseavibez ❤

name/nickname: jada, jay, sunshine(reserved for my close friends)

star sign: pisces

height: 5'4 or 5'5 lol im never sure

birthday: march 4th

favorite band: bts, ateez, txt, everglow, dreamcatcher, twice, chloe x halle, little mix, boys world, citizen queen. i wanna say paramore, sleeping with sirens & pierce the veil as well but i haven't kept up with them for a few years 😔

time: 4:01pm

favorite solo artist: doja cat, cardi b, normani, beyonce, megan thee stallion, kehlani, giveon, bruno mars, becky g, victoria monet, chung ha, cl, j cole, jackson wang, hyolyn, kendrick lamar, rihanna, miguel, jhene aiko, tinashe h.e.r. & literally so much more lmaooo

song stuck in your head: you broke me first by tate mcrae (im a sad bish lol) & wild side by normani and cardi (im a wannabe dance bish 🤣)

last movie you watched: honey (the fuel to my love for dance)

free space!: uh hi lol umm im that person that's like very creative but has trouble actually creating lol i have a real deep love for literally anything artistic: singing, dancing, drawing, writing, etc. it just makes my heart and soul feel so warm whether i have the skill or not.

last show: the vampire diaries

when i created this blog: whew chile i wish i could tell you lmao i have no clue

what i post: i reblog art, aesthetics, quotes, bts-related things and my friends' works as well as posting my own work. i also act very chaotic on main lol

last thing i googled: burger king lmaoooooo

other blogs: nope this is my one and only 😊

do i get asks?: yes ive gotten asks, mostly from dee uwu 💓

why i chose my url?: i triple bias joon, hobi & kook and they can all be referred to as "jay" and they all have dimples lol it also turns out that i have some not so noticeable dimples so there's that 😅

following: i follow a lot of people and blogs lol but i hold my babes close to my heart (they know who they are.. i hope lolololololololol)

followers: 160 (idk when tf that happened but i also feel like a lot of those are p0rn bots that i never blocked lmao)

average hours of sleep: lol no more than 5

lucky number: 7. it seems cliche but it's always been my favorite number growing up & then i found out that it's my angel number so it just seems meant to be 👉🏾👈🏾

instruments: i own a keyboard and an acoustic guitar. do i know how to play either of them? no lmaooo

what am i wearing?: white bodysuit/top, salmon pink pants, white adidas high tops & a rose quartz charm pendant

dream job: uhhh im not really sure lol i mean im studying to go into real estate & im working in customer service right now but that's not the dream

favorite food: chicken nuggets/tenders (im babie lmao)

tea or coffee: coffeeeee lol it tastes better than tea, i drink both though

nationality: american unfortunately

favorite song: halo by beyonce, it's a bitch for me to sing cause that woman's vocal range is insane but i still love the production and arrangement of it. absolutely beautiful.

last book i read: boyfriend from hell by jaime quaid.i know they say don't judge a book by its cover but it was the best decision i made when i bought the book lol they revamped the cover tho (i hate it lmaooo)**

top three fictional universes i would like to live in: the vampire diaries/the originals/legacies (such a fckin badass universe), teen wolf (the amount of stiles fanfics i used to read on wattpad is insanity) & the house of night book series

**here's a side by side of the book cover i saw vs the revamped version that i hate lol

tagging @dreamcatcherjiah and @myghobi ❤

[vee-angel]

Potty-Mouth Piper (part 1, repost)

(Part of the Pervert Pentet Series)

Chapter 1, part 1

WARNING: This story focuses on filth-fetishism, and will have substantial amounts of scat, piss, flatulence, snot, menstrual play, and just about every dirty thing I can think of. If that kind of thing isn’t your cup of tea, I suggest you skip this one. I have multiple stories in the works that feature completely different categories of fetishism.

***

Mackenzie had just turned eighteen and had recently transferred to a new high school. Despite being rather pretty, she tended to go relatively unnoticed. She had dark red hair that hung flatly down to her mid-back, and ivory skin that she never adorned with makeup. She was on the slim side, but took pride in the fact that she had rather pretty breasts, a bit more full than would be expected from her frame. Not that anyone ever saw them, her plain and somewhat modest clothing saw to that.

While rather timid in real life, her online activities were anything but. She had discovered internet pornography at a relatively young age, and her curiosity led her, over the years, to pursue greater and greater levels of filth. In her younger days, she was satisfied merely to watch videos of women urinating, but her tastes evolved from there to piss-drinking, fart porn, vomit, spit, snot, and of course, scat. The idea of “dirty women” captivated her. Her interest primarily centered on images and videos in which a woman was on the receiving end. She often imagined herself taking the place of the women.

Sadly, her shyness and modesty kept her from actualizing her fantasies. She had tasted her own urine once, and for days afterward had feared that someone would discover the shameful thing she had done. She wished that she could be as bold and shameless as the women she looked at online. She fantasized that someday she’d find a women who somehow knew what she wanted without her ever having to say it, someone who could elicit a passion in her that was so irresistible that it left her inhibitions shattered.

Little did she know that today was the day her fantasy would become flesh.

She didn’t really mind that her parents moved often. She was forced to change schools multiple times, but it’s not as if she ever made friends anyway. The first day at this new school was much like the others. She quietly kept to herself, and when lunch-time rolled around she made her way to the bathroom to avoid having to interact with any of the other students.

She always tried to find the least-used bathroom, usually the one farthest from the cafeteria and common areas. If she was lucky she could go an entire lunch period without having to see another person.

When the lunch bell rang, she made her way through the halls, trying to avoid attention until she reached her bathroom sanctuary. She finally made her way there, opening the door and putting her purse on the counter. A confident voice from behind her made her jump, “Hey fire-crotch, what’s your deal? You new here?”

She turned around to face the girl who spoke. As she laid eyes on the young woman, her heart felt it was clamped in a vice.

She was both awed and shocked at the vision she saw before her. The deep green mohawk caught her attention first. Her hair fully shaved on both sides. The right side of her head adorned with a tattoo reading “Potty Mouth” in a vomit-looking punk rock font. Her pretty face had delicate features, and other than the generous amount of eyeliner, she wore no makeup. A short leather jacket and tiny tattered black t-shirt covered her torso. She was skinny, with minimal body-fat hiding the taut muscles of her youthful abdomen. Her tall black boots contrasting with the exceptionally short red-plaid skirt, barely long enough to cover her ass.

Mackenzie wanted to speak, but felt intimidated by the extreme looking girl in front of her. She decided to quickly turn around and pretend to be looking at something in her purse. The wet sound of her chewing gum was the only sound in the room for a few seconds.

“Don’t talk much, huh? That’s all right, I’m sure you’ll open your dick-holster when you’ve got something to say.” the punk-rock girl said.

Mackenzie thought, did she just call my mouth a dick-holster???

“Anyway, I’m doin’ a thing in here. Feel free to stick around, should be a good show. I’m Piper, by the way, feel free to call me Shit-Pipe.”

My god! thought Mackenzie, can this girl go five seconds without saying something vulgar?

As much as Mackenzie wanted to be judgemental, inwardly she was exhilarated by the idea of this shameless classmate of hers.

She glanced in the mirror to see Piper removing some cable ties from her backpack and fastening them on the handles of the stall doors, seemingly blocking access to the toilets for anyone who might happen to come in.

The two girls waited in silence for a couple of minutes, Mackenzie glancing at Piper’s reflection in the mirror. Each time she checked, it appeared that the girl was chewing gum with an appreciative smile as she stared intently at Mackenzie’s ass.

Just then the door burst open and a pretty blonde cheerleader rushed in. She yanked the door to one stall, then another.

“Piper! What did you do?” the cheerleader yelled exasperatedly.

“Hey, who says it was me?” Piper replied with a confident-yet-sarcastic smile “Maybe I just heard that the toilets were out of order and thought it was a chance to volunteer my special services as a shit receptacle.”

Mackenzie perked up. Did she really just hear what she thought she heard?

“Oh my god, Piper, what the fuck? I know what people say about you, but you’re not really into that, are you?” the cheerleader asked as she danced about with one hand holding her ass.

“Hey, looks like you don’t have much of a choice.” Piper said as a grumble emanated from the cheerleaders stomach, “You can either shit your panties or shit in my mouth.”

“Stop fucking around and open the door, I really, REALLY have to go!” the cheerleader exclaimed.

Piper pulled the piece of gum from her mouth and lifted one leg as she inserted it, like a suppository, into her own anus. She then dropped to her knees and opened her mouth wide, sticking out her tongue obscenely.

“Oh my god! I can’t believe this. You’re so fucking nasty.” the cheerleader said. Accepting the fact that she had no choice, she scrunched up her face in disgust and turned around.

Piper wasted no time, immediately lifting up the back of the cheer-girls skirt and yanking down her panties. She thrust her open mouth between the girls butt cheeks before reaching around and giving a good squeeze to the girls lower abdomen.

Mackenzie watched in the mirror, transfixed on the vision behind her. A loud fart, muffled by Pipers mouth echoed through the restroom. A loud rhythmic swallowing sound could be heard as Piper chugged the blonde girl’s diarrhea. A few seconds of this passed before the sound turned to muffled, sputtering flatulence as the shit exploded directly into the walls of the green-haired girls mouth. Apparently a new stream of feces began to flow, as she once again heard the loud chugging noise, though this time it was periodically interrupted by a wet chewing.

While Mackenzie didn’t have the best vantage point, she thought she observed a trail of brown slime drip from Piper’s chin before a few drops landed on the firm, pale skin of her stomach.

After several seconds, the mortified cheerleader finally pulled away. She waddled toward the paper towels next to the sink, her panties still around her knees. “Hey, you didn’t even give me a chance to clean you up. I can put a real spit-shine on that turd-cutter of yours!” Piper called in a mocking tone from across the room, the cheerleaders brown ass-slime still dripping from her chin.

The blond girl quickly wiped with a paper towel before pulling her panties up and rushing out of the bathroom.

Piper gathered up the shit from her chin with her finger and licked it clean, she repeated the process a few more times, making sure to get every drop. She then looked down and scooped the two dollops of cheerleader diarrhea from her tummy and swallowed those down as well.

“Bitches just don’t appreciate good customer service, eh fire-crotch?” Piper asked.

Mackenzie still just stared down at her purse, her heart racing with excitement at what she just saw. She never imagined that this was something she would just come across in her everyday life.

“Oh, hey where are my manners? Do you need to squirt a turd, too? ‘cuz I still got plenty of room in here” Piper said, slapping her flat belly.

“Nnn…. na… no.” Mackenzie replied shaking nervously. This girl was a dream come true, and she had no idea how to act.

“Hey, well I’ll be around if you change your mind,” Piper said before turning around and sticking her leg up onto the sink right next to her. She bent over and looked up at Mackenzie from between her legs. The shy girl actually turned her head to look down at the girl in the obscene pose, her skirt having ridden up to expose her tight pink asshole. Piper looked up at her as she dug her finger into her sphincter and retrieved the piece of gum she’d stored there earlier. She stood up and popped it back into her mouth before walking to the door.

“See ya around, red,” she said before casually flipping up the back of her skirt and farting loudly toward the shy red-head. She walked out of the room and Mackenzie was suddenly alone to process the mind-blowing scene she had just witnessed.

“Holy shit.” she whispered quietly to herself.

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Real Fake Car Job

leverage 5.07

me, 0.00000000000001 seconds into the episode: iS tHaT sHaGgY fRoM sCoObY dOO ???!!!

- - - - -

Kyle: I just figured a guy like you would have, I don’t know, an office or something.

Nate: Oh, yeah, I tried it once. Had trouble keeping it in one piece

a little on the nose there

- - - - -

Hardison (controlling pictures on the display): I got the security-camera footage from Eagle Cove’s parking lot.

Eliot: Those guys are Federal Marshals. Hardison, zoom in on that gun right there. That’s a Glock 23, .40 caliber... standard-issue weapon of choice for Marshals Service

bitch it’s distinctive

- - - - -

eliot’s car is literally the most inconspicuous ride E V E R

- - - - -

Sophie: Look at the items confiscated after his arrest. There’s high-end art, properties all over the world, vintage cars... all seized and sold at government auction for pennies on the dollar. Somewhere in there is the thing he loves that’s been taken away forever.

Nate: Okay. Hardison, Parker, you’re on that.

(Parker nods)

her W I N K at hardison

- - - - -

Parker: Cool. (throws a bag of garbage into the van)

Hardison: Looks like it’s just a bunch of car-restoration shows, some soap operas... embarrassing. What you doing?

Parker: Got his garbage. Garbage is always best.

Hardison: I just had Lucille detailed! Oh, are you kidding me? Get... girl... Is that seafood I smell?

Parker: I don’t... yeah, a little... whew

let lucielle live

- - - - -

(Erickson places a ‘Wifi password $5’ sign over the ‘Free Wifi’ sign)

Erickson (to customer): It just means that it’s available.

Customer (hands him $5): Mm.

Erickson: Thank you. (pockets money) So, the password..

woW HES A PIECE OF SHIT

- - - - -

(Eliot and Hardison are crouched in some greenery)

Hardison: Hey, easier done than said, man. Craigslist. One simple ad, and these rare-car guys will flock to any empty lot just for a peek at a vintage carburetor.

Eliot: Owner’s heading out of town.

(Owner exits house)

Hardison: He won some trip... all expenses paid to Bora-Bora.

Eliot: He’s a lucky man.

(Owner gets into car and drives away)

their smug looks as they crouch in the bushes together

chaotic boyfriends

- - - - -

(Eliot approaches garage doors)

Hardison: Oh, hey, hey, hey.

(Eliot hesitates, then opens the garage door to reveal a Packard Coupe)

Hardison: No way am I giving up this life to be an ordinary person.

Eliot: Did you talk to Parker about that?

Hardison: What you mean... why would I... No, she’s the least ordinary person I know... you know. Shoot. Wait. Do I have to talk to her about stuff like...

Eliot: Yeah.

Hardison: ‘Cause I... You know what? Just forget it. Let’s get to work

eliot talking to hardison about his relationship with parker? ot3 vibes?

- - - - -

parker’s become so good at grifting I’m so proud of her

+ SHES SO CUTE IN THAT FLOWERY DRESS AND FLOPPY HAT IM G A Y

- - - - -

they baked the marshall a fucking FRUITCAKE

- - - - -

Sophie: They always throw out the cake, but they keep the tray.

this show has so many good tidbits

- - - - -

Hardison (laughs): Just all up in each other’s business 24/7. Nothing to do.

Parker: I could never retire. Could you... would you ever...

Hardison (quickly): Mnh-mnh. Mm. No, hell, no.

Parker: Good. Good.

Hardison: Are you sure you...

Parker: Mm. Good. Then we’re on the same page.

Hardison: Eliot told you.

Parker: You were flailing just a little bit.

Hardison: A skosh?

Parker: Yeah, a skosh

the three of them look out for each other and I love that for them

- - - - -

(Sophie and Eliot walk across the parking lot with a shopping cart full of miscellaneous equipment, an axe and a shovel that they begin putting into the trunk of Eliot’s car)

Sophie: She there?

Eliot: Yeah, she’s in the back of the parking lot, watching us like a hawk.

(Marshal Rose is watching from across the lot)

Sophie: Are we being suspicious enough?

(Eliot hands her the axe)

Sophie: Never mind.

(Marshal Rose continues to watch as they load the car)

Sophie: So, what do you think you’re gonna do after all this is done?

Eliot: Always wanted to open up my own restaurant. Now I’m probably gonna get stuck making sure Hardison’s doesn’t go out of business. Throw a couple of drunks out every once in a while. Maybe the place will get robbed once a year.

anyone remember that meme where you try to buy five things that scares the cashier the most? their haul gives those vibes.

+

eliot deep down you KNOW hardison got the brewpub for you because he loves you

ALSO bby has a simple retirement plan bless his soul

- - - - -

(Sophie looks at a coil of rope)

Eliot: Don’t- don’t use that.

Sophie: Hmm?

Eliot: For future references, you can chew right through it.

Sophie: Huh. (puts rope into the trunk) Any other tips from back in the day, when you used to... (makes slashing motion across her neck) people?

(Eliot walks around the car while Sophie pushes the cart away. Marshal Rose watches as they enter the vehicle)

again, another good tidbit from leverage, you never know when you need knowledge like that

- - - - -

(Sophie watches Eliot digging a hole)

Eliot: After sunset, this field is gonna be completely dark. No clear sight lines from the road. First thing to find a body out here would be a coyote...

Sophie: Okay. Now I’m scared.

Eliot: I’m here.

Sophie: Eliot. You’re what’s scaring me.

(Marshal Rose approaches through the grass, watching and listening)

Sophie: So, just for argument’s sake, which one of us do you think would cope better? You know, with being an ordinary person? You know, without going... mad?

Eliot: Me. (continues digging)

Sophie: Really? ‘Cause, um... well, you know, I was thinking me.

Eliot (firm): It’s me.

lmfao sometimes eliot really doesn’t know when to Stop™

he’s trying his best, your honor

- - - - -

Sophie: The South entrance will be clear in 10 seconds.

(Eliot punches each of the men, knocking them out)

Sophie: Make it five

my aesthetic is it being only one punch of eliot’s that takes a goon out

- - - - -

Parker: You think it’ll work?

Nate: It has to.

Hardison: What will work?

Nate: Lots of cars in the ‘30s were diesels. They would run on vegetable oil. We’re gonna fuel up the Packard and try to...

Hardison: The car?! The car that’s all the way over there?! You mean we got to run over there and get in the car, drive through a gunfight, and pray that it’s bulletproof like the Batmobile?!

(a bullet ricochets nearby)

Hardison: Okay, I’m in. Let’s go. Go, go.

let hardison rest pls he’s baby

- - - - -

Sophie: I couldn’t help overhearing what you said in the warehouse about putting the past behind you.

Nate: I had a gun to my head.

Sophie: This is our bar. I’m sure I can rustle up a gun somewhere.

Nate: Mm. You were wrong about one thing.

Sophie: Really? Because I couldn’t possibly be right, could I?

Nate (leans closer): Wanting to move on with or without you... it matters. We matter

wow nate/sophie stans really kept winning this season