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sarahowritesostucky · 8 months

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📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 3399

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains background/minor themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Series Masterpost for all chapters

2. Hazelnut Ganache Tart

Mary does sober up during her shift.

She feels kind of miserable, so she’s thankful that it’s a slow Monday. She’s also vaguely ashamed of how she’d shown up to work. It’s a new low, even for her. And then someone had seen her and called her out on it. It’s mortifying.

The encounter with Bucky preoccupies her thoughts all day, and she winds up burning a batch of croissants as she daydreams. She’s more careful after that, taking extra care with the assembly of her hazelnut ganache tarts.

Focusing on the intricate details of the pastries, on executing them perfectly, helps her to calm down and forget about the embarrassing encounter. For a little while at least. Alcohol would be better, and by the time she’s clocking out she’s already thinking about getting home so she can have the relief of a drink.

Or ten.

If anything, she throws back the first few even faster than usual, eager to wipe the memory of what’d happened that morning out of her mind.

Bucky, she thinks acerbically. What a stupid name.

And the nerve of him! To just assume those things about her. Has that loser never seen somebody hungover at work before? It's quite the presumptuous leap from that to … submissive.

‘Dominant’. Mary rolls her eyes. He could’ve just been making it up. Probably was. She’s certainly never met anybody who’s just come out and announced it the way he had. What a bizarre thing to do. It’s not like it’s something people go around broadcasting. It’s … well it’s a mental disorder, isn’t it?

They’d mentioned it in her Psych101 class back in college, but she’d dropped out before that semester was halfway through. Unable to help herself, she pulls out her phone and googles “Dominant,” then navigates to the Wikipedia page on “Dominant and Submissive Personality Disorder.” She winds up getting sucked into reading about it. But as soon as the article starts talking about the submissive subsection, she closes the browser in discomfort.

She remembers back to the encounter with that guy—Bucky. He hadn’t seemed like there was anything wrong with him (other than being bossy and intrusive as fuck). But where the heck did he get off throwing out psych diagnoses at total strangers? Mary's cheeks grow hot the more she thinks about his cocksure attitude and the pitying way he’d looked at her.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Doll.”

She remembers how he’d spoken to her, how he’d called her out on her behavior and spoken so assuredly, like he could see right into her. Like he knew all her secrets. It’d been unnerving.

Her pulse quickens as she thinks about it. The way his big hand had felt, wrapped so securely around her wrist. And how he’d squeezed her wrist—slowly, gently.

“Oh, honey. I think you are.”

Fuck, it’d made her knees go weak.

Sighing, she takes the bottle of vodka and her glass to the couch and plops down, using the remote to turn the tv onto YouTube. She starts up a playlist that she can lose herself in—music videos, stuff from all the tv shows she likes, edits, fail compilations, whatever. Maybe it’s pathetic that this is how she spends most nights, but there’s no one that she has to impress. And she can’t bear the feeling of being alone in her brain otherwise. At least this way everything is warm and entertaining. She pours herself a little more, throwing off the ratio of vodka to ginger ale, but the taste doesn't bother her nearly as much once she's on the third or fourth drink.

The bottle’s half empty, and she wonders if she’ll finish it. She’ll be drunk again at work tomorrow morning, if she does. Yikes. She’ll stop after two more. One more. Two more.

The bottle’s three-quarters empty and an Adam Lambert music video is blasting on the tv. He really is the most underappreciated vocalist of his generation! And he’s got such nice makeup, too …

Maybe she won’t even go to work tomorrow, Mary thinks manically. They don’t appreciate her there anyway. Maybe she’ll just stay here and drink the rest of this and enjoy herself until… until…

The bottle’s empty and the party’s in full swing. No worries though, she thinks, she’s got some of that nasty cheap rum in the back of the pantry. Blecgh. She orders DoorDash that she doesn’t really have the money to be wasting on, puts on makeup while lip syncing to the tv, and thinks about calling Chase to tell him what a loser he is and how glad she is that they broke up. Haven’t had to use this concealer to cover up anything but acne in over a year.

Rum isn’t so bad when you mix it with orange juice!

She gets on a depressing video kick. She bemoans the state of politics, then society, the world, her life. She goes through all the old pictures in her phone and gets pissed at the ones with Chase in them. She imagines running into her ex somewhere random, with a super hot new boyfriend on her arm. She imagines the dumbstruck expression he’d have on his face, and how she’d introduce her way-hotter new boyfriend to him.

Ohmygosh, Chase! How’ve you been?! Oh me? I’m doing great. This is Bucky, he’s a surgeon-slash-green beret-slash-musician. Ha! Yeah well we just got back from two months in the Bahamas, so that’s why we’re so tan.

It’s the rum, Mary decides. It makes her sad. She stops feeling fun and happy, and starts feeling lonely and morose. She finds the cardboard sleeve that Bucky had written that phone number on. Hell no, she’s not calling it. She’s got the internet. There’s tons of info online about this stuff that she can look up. Besides, it’s just curiosity. She’s not like him. She's not like that.

She googles BDSM disorder and clicks on the first search result, which winds up being porn. That’s a mistake, but then she decides to watch the porn anyway, because it’s sexy—plus, it's sort of educational, right?

The porn starts making her even more sad. She stares at the paper cup sleeve in her hand while some girl gets the tar beat out of her backside. The last video had been an over-the-lap spanking video—Mary had liked that one. But this doesn’t look nice at all. Especially when the guy switches to hitting her with a friggin’ stick.

Is this the sort of stuff Bucky likes to do? Jeez.

She has the receipt that Bucky wrote his own number on, too. On impulse, she pulls out her phone and starts to enter a new contact.

“Asshole Dom Bucky,” she mumbles as she types the words and saves the new contact number with a giggle. It takes more than one try, her fingers not hitting the right keys very often, but she gets it done.

She comes very, very close to calling Bucky, but winds up calling the hotline phone number instead at the last minute. She’ll whine and cry to them instead, she thinks. At least they’re strangers. She can tell them anything. It’s confidential, anonymous. They can’t tell anyone what she says.

A woman picks up the phone and greets her in a calm, friendly voice.

“Hello, my name is Sharon. I’m a volunteer counselor at the National Submissive Crisis Intervention Hotline.”

“Whatever,” Mary slurs. She is so drunk. She gulps more of her rum and OJ, thinks about going and getting the little razor blade that she only thinks about picking up when she’s wasted. Sometimes it feels nice to do something outrageous when she’s this sad. Nobody can stop her from it, and that feels nice, too. “M’not having a crisis,” she mumbles.

“Okay,” Sharon says, voice still so pleasant and accommodating. “What’s your name?”

“Mary.”

“Okay Mary. I’m glad you called. Would you like to talk to me about what you’re going through? We can talk about anything you’d like.”

“I’m not a freak,” Mary blurts out. “You know? Submissive, or whatever. I’m not. M’normal.”

“Okay,” Sharon says calmly. “Well just so you know, I’m not here to judge. I’m on the spectrum myself.”

Mary blows air through her teeth disdainfully—though deep down, she guesses it’s nice to know that. "So what," she mutters. "You're like, a submissive?

“I’m actually dominant, but I’m not going to do anything to try and boss you around or control you. I’m just here to listen to and support you.”

“Oh.” She looks down at her glass, feeling like she doesn’t even want to finish drinking it. She’s tired … And sad. “Kay,” she mumbles. “Well I’m not. Like that.”

“You don’t think you have a designation disorder."

Designation disorder, pfft. Mary scoffs again. “Yeah, no.”

“Then why did you call tonight? Do you need someone to talk to?”

She grumbles unintelligibly, then repeats herself when the woman on the phone prompts her. “Some guy just gave me this number. He said that I was.”

“He said that you were what, Honey?”

“… Submissive.” She says the word quietly, embarrassed of it. “But what does he know, right?” She huffs. “Fucking stranger. He doesn’t know me.”

“Okay. What are you going through tonight?” Sharon asks, still sounding kind but also mildly worried. “Do you want to talk about that? About what made you call the hotline?”

Mary sniffles, feeling stupid. She’s suddenly tearing up and she doesn’t even know why. She wipes her eyes hastily and takes another big sip of her drink. “I’m drinking,” she says tearfully, bluntly, expecting to be scolded for it. "M'drunk."

“Okay,” Sharon says. She doesn’t sound mad. “Okay Mary, are you by yourself right now?”

“Yeah. M’in my apartment.”

“Okay. Okay. … Do you drink alone there often?”

Oh. That hits hard for some reason, and suddenly Mary’s crying, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to hold back a sob.

“Mary? Are you there, Honey?”

Honey. Mary cries harder. That's what Bucky had called her. She likes hearing it, but also she feels desperately sad because it reminds her about how she’s all alone and doesn’t have someone to call her ‘Honey’ or ‘Doll’ or ‘good girl’. And nobody’s ever spanked her over their lap, either.

“Mary?”

“Yeah,” she says, voice all choked up. “Yeah, m’here.”

“Okay. Good.” Mary can hear the sound of typing on the other end of the line. “How are you feeling Mary? Do you think we could make a plan together? Maybe drink some water and get you ready for bed? It’s late. You must be tired, huh?”

Mary sniffles. “Um,”

“It’d make me so happy if we could make a plan, Mary. Would you do that for me?”

“... Yeah.”

“Oh, that’s so great. Good girl.”

Mary’s face crumples. She’s not a good girl. She’s not good at all!

Sharon hears her crying harder and asks worriedly what’s wrong. “Mary,” she says, voice sharper—stern-sounding. “Mary, you need to talk to me and tell me what’s happening.”

“Sh-sharon?” Mary cries. “What I tell you is private, right? You won’t tell anyone or report me, will you?”

“... The goal is to keep you safe, Honey. I’m here to help you do that,” Sharon says. “You can tell me anything you want to. I’m here to listen, remember?”

She sounds so kind and caring, so steady, and it makes Mary want to tell her everything. It’s been so hard, not having anyone to talk to. And anyway she’s already crying at this point, and it feels good in that way that crying sometimes does, so she might as well. It’s confidential.

She takes a deep breath, takes another big gulp from her glass, and starts spilling her guts to this stranger named Sharon over the phone.

Bucky’s phone rings early in the morning. He groans as he wakes up, grumpily reaching for it. He peeks at the red numbers of the alarm clock over on Steve’s side of the bed: 4:30 AM.

If this is a robocall this early in the morning, he’s going to be tempted to commit capital murder. “Hello?” he rasps.

“Hello. Is this, um … ‘Bucky’?”

It’s a man’s voice. Bucky squints blearily up at the bedroom’s popcorn ceiling. “Yeah? Who is this?”

“Sir, my name is Officer Santiago with the New York Police Department. I’m calling from Holy Cross Hospital.”

“Hospital?” Bucky says, more alert at hearing that. “You’re a cop?” Why is a cop calling him? Bucky can’t think of a good reason.

“Yes Sir.”

He sits up in the bed. Beside him, Steve starts waking up, too. “Mmph, who is it?” he asks sleepily.

“What’s happened?” Bucky asks, dread already curling in his gut, imagining who could be hurt or dead at the hospital that they’re calling him at this hour …

“We have a woman here,” the officer says. “She called a crisis hotline. The operator was worried about her safety, she contacted us.”

“Those hotlines are supposed to be confidential,” Bucky growls.

“She was making threats of self harm. We had to pick her up. We’ve got her down here at the E.R. at Holy Cross. Involuntary hold.”

“Wait a minute ... What was the hotline she called?” Bucky asks, as the thought occurs to him and he hopes he’s wrong. “It wasn’t a D/s hotline, was it?”

Beside him in the bed, Steve is grimacing and rubbing his eyes. “Babe?”

“Some submissive crisis line, yeah,” the officer says.

Bucky’s heart sinks. The woman from the coffee shop yesterday. “Mary,” he murmurs, remembering how neat and cute her handwriting was on her nametag and on the side of his to-go cup. “Shit,” he says.

“She’s stable. She has minor self-inflicted injuries but nothing life threatening. We found your number in her phone.” Here is where the officer starts to sound uneasy. “You’re listed here as her, um … her Dom.”

“I … am?” Bucky’s eyebrows climb his forehead. He hadn’t thought the girl would keep his cell number, let alone save him as a contact. He’d thought he’d pissed her off, that she was too proud, too mortified.

“Babe, who is it?” Steve asks, awake now and frowning at Bucky in concern. He can tell something’s wrong. Bucky shushes him with a gesture and Steve’s face flashes with annoyance. Bucky gives him an apologetic wince.

“Specifically, you’re listed under ‘Asshole Dom Bucky’.” The officer clears his throat uncomfortably. “She wouldn’t give us a number to call, and department policy is to contact designation partners, if possible.”

Bucky opens his mouth to tell the officer that he’s not Mary’s partner, that he doesn’t even really know her. But he stops himself, thinking about what happens to subs who get dragged into the E.R. and go unclaimed. “I … yeah,” he hedges. “Yeah, that’s me.” After an awkward pause and feeling guilty for the lie, he checks, “You said she’s okay?”

“Yes. She’s pretty upset, and intoxicated. But the doctor checked her out and said she’s okay. Well … physically-speaking,” he adds awkwardly. “They’re ready to admit her.”

“Psych unit?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky sighs. “No. That’s not good. It’d be better if I came and got her.”

“Okay.” The officer sounds relieved. “She uh, she’s pretty upset.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that,” Bucky says. “What does that mean? Is she frantic?”

“She’s angry,” the officer says, and it sounds like he’s trying to keep his voice low now. Bucky wonders if Mary is somewhere in the near vicinity of the officer. “Drunk and super pissed. Belligerent.”

“Is she restrained right now?” Bucky asks, worried.

“Yeah. Cuffed to the bed.”

Bucky grits his teeth. “She shouldn’t be restrained by a stranger. It’s not healthy for her. Can't you just watch her?”

“Sorry Sir, that’s our policy when we bring in the involuntary cases. We have to do it.”

Bucky is already up and heading to the closet to grab clothes. “Okay,” he says curtly. “I’m coming to get her. I’ll be there within the hour.”

The officer thanks him and Bucky hangs up. He looks back at Steve, who is propped up on his side and staring at him in something close to shock.

“Buck, what the hell?”

Bucky winces and goes back to the bed. He climbs up and takes Steve’s hand. Steve isn’t on the spectrum, but his dynamic with Bucky has always been more on the subservient side. Bucky sees that he’s not mad, is just waiting for an explanation, so he takes a breath and tells him, “You remember the woman I told you about? The one at the coffee shop?”

Steve nods. “The lemon tarts.”

“Yeah, her. She’s in the hospital. A psych hold, that was the NYPD on the phone. Somehow they think I’m her Dom, and she’s being difficult. Won’t give ‘em a name of anybody they can release her to.”

“Oh, man.” Steve is well-educated on the intricacies of Designated people: He’s married to one, after all.

“Baby.” Bucky rubs the back of Steve’s hand. “I have to go get her.”

“You don’t ‘have’ to,” Steve corrects. He looks at Bucky knowingly. “But you want to, don’t you?”

Bucky doesn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or not. “I … yeah. I want to.” He and Steve have talked about the possibility of bringing another person into their marriage one day, a submissive to meet Bucky’s needs. Steve has always been open to the idea, especially since they’re both bisexual.

“We gonna try and make that work out?”

Bucky scoffs. “That’s way down the road.”

“But it would be good for you too, wouldn’t it?”

He shrugs, and then admits, “Yeah, probably.” Bucky’s what’s known as a ‘high needs’ dominant. The condition affects him more severely than it does others. He tries to figure out if Steve is at all upset by what they’re discussing. “It’s crazy, I know,” he says. “Not exactly what we always talked about. We don’t even know her.”

“But she’s in trouble,” Steve says. “And you were drawn to her.”

Bucky sighs. “Yeah. I don’t think she has anyone else to go to. And they’re talking about admitting her to the psych unit.”

“That’s not good, is it?”

“No. They won’t have the knowledge to help her. Places like that tend to use meds first and ask questions second.” He sees Steve’s wince and nods. “It could definitely make things worse.”

“What’s wrong with her? Subdrop?”

“I don’t know. Cop said she was self-harming and drinking. That’s all I know so far.”

Steve nods. “Can I go with you?” he looks hopeful and ready to jump into action, and Bucky is surprised—even though he knows he shouldn’t be.

“Babe, you want to do this? Bring her home? Take care of her?”

Steve nods, stalwart. “We should try. It’s the best option she has. If it works out, great. And if not … well we can get her the help she needs, at least.”

Bucky nods. Steve is on-board. He doesn’t think this is stupid, or crazy. Bucky’s chest swells with affection for him. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Steve leans over and kisses him on the mouth. “I trust you,” he says. “And I love you.”

Bucky smiles, stupidly in-love with his husband. “Love you too, Stevie.”

They kiss once more, and then Steve is pulling back and clapping his hands together. “Alright! Let’s get going if we’re really doing this.” He hefts himself out of the bed, moving with purpose. “She’s waiting for us.”

Us, Bucky thinks happily, realizing that it’s true: They’re husbands—soulmates, in his opinion. They’re partners, an inseparable unit ever since the day they got married, and they do everything together. So it’ll be the two of them taking care of this woman together. They’ll be a team, each giving her what she needs in their own ways. And maybe it’ll go somewhere, who knows? Thinking about it makes Bucky feel settled and satisfied inside, the barest ghost of the sort of feeling he gets from domming someone.

Impulsive as it is, he’s got a hunch that this is the right decision.

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millenialfanfictionaddiction · 2 years

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Being Inarizaki’s Manager

🚑Miss Manager Breaks Her Hand🚑

Inarizaki x female! manager (she/her)

Warnings: mention of broken hand, pain relievers mentioned, crying, angst(?) to fluff

A/N: this idea stemmed from the 2k headcanon celebration and I loved it so much that I thought I’d indulge myself 💅

This team ranges from “protective dad squad” to “problem children”

It’s giving season 4 Seijoh x Shiratorizawa crossover

Like I’m both excited and scared for you

Now being their precious manager, you were literally worshiped on this team

The third years, Kita, Aran, Omimi and Akagi, absolutely adored you beyond all measures

You were the light of the team, the rock 🪨

The second years, Atsumu, Osamu, Suna and Ginjima, were the guardians of YN

They didn’t think anyone was good enough to breath the air of THEIR YN

And last, but certainly not least, our precious bby first year, Riseki, absolutely had the biggest crush on you

He looked up to you and worshiped every step you took

Needless to say, you were irreplaceable my dear Yn

Unfortunately “irreplaceable” does not equate to “unbreakable” as our lively Inarizaki was about to learn

Because you see, it happened so fast that absolutely nobody knew what to do

You sent the solid team that was slated to win nationals into the biggest frenzy ever

And it all started with a rouge volleyball 😌

You see, it was the end of practice and everyone was packing up the gym

Everyone except for a certain someone 👀

Now I know what you’re thinking ok? This is all Atsumus fault

It’s always Atsumu fault 🙄

And while 99.9% of the time it most definitely is, this 0.1% was not

Because it was someone else who accidentally caused the chaos

“Sumu pack it up! It’s time to go home!” Kita shouted as you picked up the remaining volleyballs

“Just a few more serves, I’m almost at my limit,” Atsumu said as you mindlessly continued your work

You were use to this, Sumu was Sumu and there wasn’t much more you could do

And by now, he had learned to avoid hitting you so you really didn’t mind

You just continued about your merry way, picking up balls and daydreaming

“Come on bro, let’s go I’m starving!” Osamu whined

“If you’d practice your serves as much as you eat, you probably wouldn’t have to worry about missing any!” Atsumu said before slamming a service ace into the opposing court

“What did ya say to me?” Osamu raged

“Oh boy,” Aran said 😐

“Knock it off you two! Let’s just finish up!” Ginjima yells

Suna 👉🏻👀 📱

Meanwhile, you are just lost in your own world, probably daydreaming of peace and quiet

“Give me that ball!” Osamu shouted as he grabbed the ball from Sumu before tossing it and slamming it into the opposite court

It looked like a good serve, a solid one even

It’s course was set to land right on the end line

Which was, coincidentally, right where you were 😃

Akagi, our star Libero, saw it first

“YN LOOK OUT!” He shouted as the rest of the team watched on horror

Thankfully, you manage to get your hand up quickly

The ball hit your hand, smack on and deflected towards the wall

A loud and almost visible sigh flooded the gym as everyone was relieved you didn’t get hit in the head

However the calmness lasted approximately .02 seconds when they heard you whine and grab your hand

“Crap Yn!” Omimi shouted as the team raced towards you

You were grabbing your hand as tears began to flow down your face

“YN I’m so freaking sorry!! I didn’t mean too!” Osamu said, coming beside you as he looked at your hand

Fun fact: a professional volleyball serve can be upwards of 120mph (193kph)

Osamu isn’t a professional but it’s safe to say he can probably reach at least 80mph (128kph)

Needless to say, there’s a lot of force behind a serve

I googled all the facts 💅

N E WAYS

You look at Osamu, tears in your eyes as you respond, “it’s ok Samu, I should have been watching.”

Meanwhile, your hand is beginning to swell and it hurts so bad

“Let me see it YN,” the coach says as he studies your hand

“Is she going to be ok?” Ginjima asks as Coach looks at you

“Riseki, grab an ice pack quick, Kita and Aran, take YN to the nurse now!” Coach barks as the team goes to work

Suna comes next to you, holding your hand gently as Riseski hands him the ice pack

You hiss and whimper as the ice hits your skin

Osamu and Atsumu stand to the side, visibly upset that their arguing lead to you getting hurt

“Come on Yn,” Kita said, putting his hand on your lower back as Aran took over for Suna, bracing your hand

Atsumu and Osamu wordlessly began cleaning up the gym with the rest of the team, feeling awful about what happened

“Hey!” Omimi says as the twins look at him, “it was an accident. She’ll be ok.”

Meanwhile, in the nurses office…

“We need to call your parents Yn, you need to go to the hospital,” she says as you look at her

“She’s ok isn’t she?” Aran says, concerned

The nurse shakes her head, “I think her hand is broken, she needs x-rays to confirm.”

Kita and Aran’s eyes widen as you hold your hand, crying a little as the pain continues to sink in

The team finishes cleaning up and they all run to the nurses office as they see you sitting outside with Aran

“Hey everything’s all right?” Atsumu says as you look at him

“The nurse thinks she broke her hand, her parent is coming to take her to the hospital,” Kita says as he walks out from the nurses office

Osamu immediately deflated, he feels absolutely awful about what happened

He realistically knows it wasn’t really his fault, accidents happen, especially on the court

You notice him looking sad as you stand up and walk to him

“Samu it’s ok! I’ll be ok I promise,” You say, hugging him as he hugs you back

It’s a sweet moment that is unfortunately interrupted 😐

“What about me YN?” I’m sad too!” Atsumu whines as Osamu and the team glare at him

You smile and giggle, hugging Atsumu and then the rest of the team

Your parent arrives and you are taken to the hospital

The guys all go home, worried about what happened to you

They all feel awful, knowing how much pain you are in

Suddenly, their phones all ring, the group chat lighting up as they all simultaneously answer

“YN are you ok?” Osamu shouts from his phone screen

Talk about turn of events 😅

“Will you shut up and let her speak?” Ginjima says

“How about everyone shuts up and let’s YN talk!” Kita finally says as you smile from the hospital room

“Hey guys, I’m ok! My hand is broken but I got a cast on it!” You say, showing the team your favorite color, now wrapped around your hand

They all go silent, feeling awful

Osamu feels the worst as he looks at your wrapped hand

“Damn Yn, I’m so sorry!” He says again, his face expressing immense concern

You laugh, an odd gesture given the situation, “Samu it’s ok! The doctor was super impressed that I managed to deflect a serve like that! It’s not a bad break and they said within a few weeks I should be healed!”

“Are you able to do volleyball practice YN?” Akagi asks as you nods

“No physical activity for a while but I can still write and do everything I normally do! So it means I get out of gym class!” You say, excited you won’t have to participate in running for a while

“Did they give you something for the pain?” Aran asks as you nod

“Yeah they gave me some good pain relievers but I won’t be in school the rest of this week,” you say as the boys all deflate

“I’m really really sorry Yn! I feel awful!” Osamu says again

“Samu it’s ok! It was an accident! I should have been paying more attention anyways!” You say as you smile

Thankfully, a certain someone knows just how to lighten the mood 😏

“Really if you think about it, it’s all Sumu’s fault,” Suna chimes in as Atsumu takes over Osamus phone

“What the hell Suna?!? How is it my fault??” He shouts

“Well if you wouldn’t have kept serving, this never would have happened!” Ginjima adds

“It’s true,” Riseki says

“Atsumu you are going to run so many laps tomorrow!” Kita says as

Atsumu 👉🏻👁️💧👄💧👁️

They are all just glad their precious manager is ok 🥰

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e-dubbc11 · 1 year

Text

The Sweetest Pain

Pt. 2

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Tattoo Artist Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Smexy time alludes to sex so 18+please or I’m telling on you, jealous reader, and of course some fluff

Word Count: 5.3k-ish

Summary: After being friends with your tattoo artist for six years and confessing your true feelings for each other, you finally go out on your first date. Billy starts in on another session of your octopus tattoo and introduces you to the new artist he hired who seems a little too friendly with him.

A/N: Read part one HERE. I’ve had a lot of fun working on this second part and my dear friend Lily @munsonownsmyass has been working hard on her own fic that is adjacent to this little series which I am SO excited for you guys to read. This little collaboration has been a lot of fun, the back and forth chatting about it, everything about it has brought a smile to my face and I hope it will for you too. Read Lily’s Mark Upon Your Skin HERE

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“But I wanna see you tomorrow…for dinner.”

His command had been wandering through your head all day as you bit down on your lower lip to try and keep from smiling but it was impossible.

You could still smell the intoxicating combination of his cologne and his natural scent on the sweatshirt he placed over your shoulders when he took you home last night, it had been chillier than you expected when the two of you left the studio.

The sweatshirt had his shop logo on it and as you motioned to remove it after arriving at your apartment, Billy told you to “Keep it, I know the guy that owns the shop. I can always get another one.” And he pulled you in close for another kiss, his lips were soft, his hands were gently cupping your cheeks and moving their way down around your neck.

They came to rest around your waist, his kisses became hungrier as he pressed you up against the wall. You didn’t want him to leave, you had wanted this for so long and now it was actually happening.

The man you have been friends with for six years, who has tattooed you countless times in those six years was now kissing you and exploring your body with his skilled hands.

You had hooked your leg around his and pulled him closer to you and he was careful not to touch the top of your thigh no matter how much he wanted to because he had just tattooed it.

“You still taking me to dinner tomorrow night, handsome?” You asked him.

He pulled away from kissing your neck. “If we keep this up, I may end up taking you to breakfast.”

You liked the way that sounded but not tonight so you pulled away.

“Alright, alright stud…I gotta get up for work in the morning anyway. This is really nice though.” You had said with a slight smile.

He leaned forward to place a soft kiss on your lips and then flashed you that perfect smile again. “I like kissing you too.” He said with a warm smile. “I’ll call you when I wake up tomorrow. Goodnight, beautiful.”

“Goodnight, Billy. Sweet dreams.” You said.

He kissed you on the forehead before saying “They will be now.”

That was all you could think about while you were at work today, like you could still feel Billy’s firm lips on yours, on your neck, and his hands everywhere else.

You had to make excuses of why you were daydreaming, even while you were in a meeting. You couldn’t do anything BUT think of him, it brought a smile to your face and you were very excited about dinner tonight.

He called you in the morning just like he said he would. That’s something you could get used to, no guy you’ve ever dated called when they said they were going to.

You could tell Billy had a smile on his face on the other end of the phone, the smooth velvet tone to his voice as he said your name gave you flutters all over, and the childlike excitement in his voice when he said he was looking forward to your date tonight made your heart skip a beat.

He said he was taking you to a restaurant/bar called The Wicked Monk. It wasn’t too far from his shop in Brooklyn and he had asked if going to a bar was ok with you.

Billy obviously wasn’t a three-piece suit kind of guy, and it seemed like he was concerned that going to a bar wouldn’t be good enough for you.

“Yeah? Are you sure that’s ok?” He asked timidly.

“Of course, Billy. Why wouldn’t it be?” You asked him.

There was a long pause. “Because—some women I’ve dated wanted to be wined and dined at 5 star restaurants. I’m a tattoo artist, I don’t work on Wall Street. And I’m not gonna pretend to be somethin’ I’m not.”

“You don’t have to pretend with me, Billy. If I don’t like something, believe me I’m gonna tell you about it. Sometimes my mouth gets me into a bit of trouble so strap in, I hope you’re ready for that.” You said.

He laughed, a real genuine laugh. It was difficult to get a laugh out of Billy. “Oh I knew I was gonna have my hands full with you, my little firecracker. I can’t wait to see you later.”

“I’m excited to see you too, handsome. I’ll text you when I’m on my lunch break.” You said.

The rest of your work day seemed to take forever, of course it did because you had something to look forward to tonight.

On your way home, you were trying to picture in your head of what you wanted to wear tonight. You went with casual but a little sexy, jeans and a black top with lace sleeves along with your black leather jacket.

Billy’s face froze when you opened the door to greet him, he tried hard not to eye you from head to toe but he couldn’t help himself.

“Holy shit.” He stated. “You look amazing, y/n. You sure you still wanna go out orrrrrr?” He placed his hands on your hips and his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip.

“Billy Russo!” You playfully slapped his shoulder. “I’m hungry so yes, I still wanna go out.” A little laugh escaped your mouth and you felt yourself start to blush.

“Ah, now I’m making YOU blush!” He said excitedly as he pulled you in close, his eyes like two pieces of onyx staring down at you like you were the only woman in the world.

You were crazy about him.

“I wanna give you a kiss but I don’t wanna mess up your lipstick. I love the red, baby. So I’ll just do this…for now.” He drew your hand up to meet his lips and he planted a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

“I’ll let you kiss me later, let’s move soldier!” You said.

Billy just shook his head back and forth, smiling as you took his hand in yours and led him out of your apartment building.

Always a gentleman, Billy walked on the outside of the sidewalk next to the road, held you close to him, protecting you, opened the door for you and pulled out your chair. They seated you at a cozy table in the back, in front of the large wooden door with the word Guinness painted on it.

There was a lot to look at inside the intimate little Irish bar, stone walls, stained glass windows, even part of the ceiling was stained glass made to look like an amusing version of Michelangelo’s mural on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel with cheerful monks holding up mugs of beer.

“Well this is a fun place, I’ve never been here before.” You said, removing your jacket and draping it off the back of your chair.

Billy removed his leather jacket as well, looking as handsome as ever in a black Henley shirt and dark jeans.

“Yeah some of the stained glass and wood fixtures are actually from a chapel in Ireland.” He told you.

“Look at you, spouting off facts and shit. You tryin’ to impress me or somethin’, Russo? You could be makin’ all that shit up, for all I know.” You asked.

“Depends…is it working?” Billy asked with a wink.

“Maybe…” You said with kind eyes and a slight smile.

You had such a nice time with him. The conversation was easy, the food was good, and of course Guinness on tap is delicious. Billy held your hand across the table, ran his thumb across your knuckles as he stared down at the rose he tattooed on your hand a few years ago, then slowly traced the outline of the petals with his long nimble fingers.

Still looking down at the rose, he asked. “Remember when I did this one?”

He brought his gaze up to meet yours when you answered him.

“I remember them all, Billy.” You whispered only loud enough for him to hear.

“You’re making me blush again, y/n!” A little embarrassed, his eyes darted from your gaze quickly before returning to have his eyes meet yours again.

“That night was a fun one though, you got to tattoo me AND my best friend.” You said.

“I hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time, you two are somethin’ else.” Said Billy.

You leaned across the table to place a gentle kiss on his lips. “I like making you laugh, Billy. You deserve to.”

He kissed you back, a tint of red from your lipstick appeared on his lips that you went to wipe away when he kissed your thumb.

“You wanna get outta here? Go for a walk down by the water?” He asked.

“I’d love to.” You replied.

Walking arm in arm, the breeze down by the water felt amazing against your warm skin which was all Billy’s doing. The man gave you butterflies in your stomach and sent a surge of heat throughout the rest of your body.

You didn’t even notice the cold on the unseasonably cool spring night, he warmed you up from the top of your head all the way down to your toes.

He asked you a lot of questions like what the relationship was like between you and your parents. You told him your parents divorced when you were 12, your mom re-married not even a year after the divorce was final and had another baby.

She never gave a second thought to the children she already had, and you felt like she resented you because you looked and acted so much like your father.

Billy asked if you started getting tattoos to piss off your mother, which made you laugh. Jokingly, you told him that was only part of the reason, but you’ve just always loved them and within the past few years you finally were making the money you needed to support your “ink habit.” And that made him laugh.

“It was something that I loved, that made me happy. She once told me ‘no man wants a woman that’s permanently marked up her body.’ She just never liked to see me happy, Billy. Whenever I was, she would do everything in her power to try and take it away from me by making me feel bad about myself. That was her way of trying to manipulate me into someone she wanted me to be.” You said, trying to look away from him so he wouldn’t see the tears in your eyes.

“Sweet girl, look at me.” He demanded, as you turned to look at him. His voice was breathless with anger. “There is nothing I love more than seeing your beautiful smile or listening to your laugh and I am so sorry she tried to take that away from you. I hate seeing those tears in your eyes.”

With rage his eyes, he gnashed his teeth as he said. “I guess neither of our mothers are winning Mother of the Year awards, are they.”

“No, no they’re definitely not.” You replied with a slight smile and a bitter laugh.

As your tears spilled over and ran down your cheeks, he wiped them away before tilting your chin up to look into those hypnotic dark brown eyes and he did his best to kiss your tears away.

Billy’s lips eagerly pressed against yours, parting them, his tongue stroking against yours, and your fingers combed through his ebony colored hair.

His beard lightly scratched your chin and cheeks as he kissed up and down your neck, and back up to capture your lips once again. You gasped against his mouth and felt his breath on your eyelids.

He easily lifted the bottom of your shirt and his talented fingers skirted across the delicate skin on your stomach which sent a shiver of intense sharpness down your spine.

Breathless, you pulled away to ask him. “Do you want to go back to my place, maybe have a drink?”

“You sure, baby?” His eyes flashed with a little excitement.

You gave him a slightly wicked smile. “Well it’s either that or we’re goin’ down a few blocks to your shop and I’m kickin’ everyone out so I can fuck you in your tattoo chair.”

He was so surprised by your answer that he couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “My little firecracker.” He pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger and gave you a quick kiss.

After getting back to your apartment, the two of you enjoyed a glass of bourbon, talked more, laughed more, and he told you more stories about his time overseas.

They were mostly happy stories about his fellow marines, especially Frank. Billy didn’t like telling stories about the darker times of war but he didn’t mind sharing some with you.

He lifted his Henley and pulled the top of his jeans down a little, revealing a bullet wound scar on his hip. You sat facing each other on the couch, he rubbed strands of your hair in between his fingertips, and you inched closer to him so you could kiss him on the cheek.

There was a look of hurt at the back of Billy’s eyes, like he wanted to tell you something else but he just wasn’t ready so without another word, you just climbed into his lap, knees resting on either side of his hips and pressed down into him.

You could feel his hardening length press against you, twitching every time you leaned down to kiss him, and he let out a low moan when you moved to bite down gently on his earlobe.

Your hands traveled to his chest, down to the hem of his shirt and holding the soft material in between your fingers, lifted it up and over his head and discarded it on the floor.

His patriotic tattoo sleeve was in full view now. From the American flag, to the bald eagle, and every part in between, it was incredible. It went from his shoulder all the way down to his hand.

His Marine Corps. tattoo started from his wrist, and ended on the knuckles. You didn’t know it was possible but it made him even sexier.

Shocked at your own lack of restraint, you laced your fingers with his to pin them against the top of the couch and kissed him readily. You wanted him, you wanted him badly and that’s when he broke free from your grasp and started to unbutton your jeans.

“There’s more room in my bed, handsome.” You panted into his ear and started to stand up.

That’s all he needed to hear. He scooped you into his arms, headed for your bedroom and put you down at the foot of the bed while he hurriedly pulled your shirt off revealing the black lingerie you had on underneath.

Your hands were shaking slightly undoing his belt and the button on his jeans, forcefully pushing them down and hearing his belt hit the floor which left him in just his black boxer briefs.

The bristles of his beard scratched the curves of your breasts as he kissed in between them before slowly easing your jeans down to the floor. His dark hair fell into his eyes while you gently pulled on it, his impatient kisses became greedier, leaving little love bites down your torso to the inside of your thighs.

You always wondered what he’d look like on his knees in front of you, those thoughts weren’t just a dream anymore as you gazed down at him sliding your panties down your thighs pausing to place a gentle kiss just above your core that made you shudder.

Moving to the bed, you were suddenly underneath him, his strong hands holding your wrists together above your head and his knee spreading your legs apart.

You were almost embarrassed about how wet you were for him, playfully resisting, laughing and trying to move your wrists from underneath his hands because you wanted to touch him and you desperately wanted him inside you.

“I told you not to make me wait, Billy. I want you now.” You demanded.

Billy pulled on your bottom lip with his thumb and gave you a sly smile. “Whatever you want, baby.” He closed the distance between your faces to seize your lips again and covered your body with his own.

**********

Tangled in each other’s limbs, with the city lights dimly lighting up your bedroom, you rested your head on Billy’s chest, your leg draped over his and lightly ran your fingers up and down his tattoo sleeve. Stopping on his bicep, you noticed he had the words “Til Valhalla” tattooed there.

“Til Valhalla.” You whispered with a slight hitch in your voice.

Billy kissed the top of your head. “You know what it means, sweet girl?” He asked.

“It means you’ll see your Fallen again.” You said, grazing the words with your thumb.

Smiling against your hair, Billy asked. “Is there anything you DON’T know, baby?”

“Not really.” You said with a smile and lightly kissed his chest. “I’m so sorry, Billy. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you over there. Did you get this scar over there too?” You moved your fingers from his bicep to the longer scar on his shoulder.

Billy shuddered a little at your touch.

“I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have—“ You started to say.

He moved so he could look you in your eyes. “Oh no, y/n. It’s ok, baby—It’s…that’s where my rotator cuff was torn. It happened while I was at the group home. I just really don’t like—”

His body tensed underneath you and it was clear that Billy was uncomfortable talking about it, almost ashamed.

You interrupted him.

“Another time, Billy. You decide if and when you wanna tell me and I’ll be here.” You said with a warm smile.

Billy nodded. “Thank you, love.” You could tell he was grateful you didn’t ask any more questions. He picked his head up off of the pillow so he could touch his lips to yours.

“Goodnight, handsome.” You squeezed him tightly.

His body finally relaxed and he was able to fall asleep while you gently scratched his scalp with your fingernails. It was the most at peace you had ever seen him.

**********

The two weeks in between your tattoo appointments, Billy took you out as often as he could manage. You worked during the day and he worked mostly in the evenings so it was a little difficult to see each other but the two of you made it work.

And maybe it was a little premature but you were very much in love with him. Even though you had only been dating officially for a couple of weeks, you’ve been friends for six years, you talked almost daily, and you’ve shared a lot with each other in that time.

You had been as close as two people could be without the intimacy but that was two weeks ago and it was definitely a different relationship now. It felt…complete and you were hoping he felt the same way because for the first time in your life you had a boyfriend that made you incredibly happy.

Two weeks had flown by and it was time to go back and have Billy do more work on your octopus tattoo. You had a nice conversation with Frank while Billy readied his station for you.

“Bill told ya he hired a new artist, yeah?” He asked.

It had completely slipped your mind until Frank mentioned it but it all came flooding back to you when he did.

“OH! Yeah he did. He showed me some of her work the other night, it’s really good. What was her name again? Short stack?” You asked.

Frank let out a little chuckle. “Cake, sweetheart. Shortcake.”

“Short-CAKE! Shit, gotta remember that. Don’t wanna fuck up her name as soon as she comes in. That would be rude.” You said, a little embarrassed.

“Yeah, she’s done a little work on me—check it out.” Frank said as he moved his shirt so you could see the skull.

The detail was amazing for it being a small tattoo but it was rather impressive.

“Her line work is great.” You said.

Frank smirked. “Hey that’s what Bill said.”

“Really?” You said, narrowing your eyes a little.

Billy was completely in the dark as to what the two of you were talking about. “Huh? What’s that, Frankie?”

“I commented on Shortcake’s line work. Frank said you had a similar comment.” You said.

Billy winked at you and said. “I’m ready, baby. Come have a seat.”

Thinking that it may be different now that you and Billy were actually together but his touches still caused your nerves fire in every direction and caused your skin to erupt with goosebumps. His deep exhales hit the skin on your knee and it felt like the first time, every time.

Billy may have been working on you for about 30 minutes when Shortcake walked in. She said hello to everyone and stopped at Billy’s station on the way to hers to check out what he was working on. She leaned in close, maybe a little closer to Billy than you wanted her to, so she could get a good look at it.

“Wow! Billy, that’s incredible.” She said with a flirtatious smile.

Billy didn’t look up as he said “Thanks…” He paused to look at you. “Shortcake, this is my sweet girl. Baby, this is my new artist, Shortcake.”

You extended your hand for her to shake. “Hi there. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh jeez, I should have recognized you from your pictures. Why didn’t you tell me she was coming in today, Billy?! It’s nice to meet you too.” She said.

Maybe it was nothing but as the evening continued, the playful banter between Billy and Shortcake seemed a little too flirtatious. The way they joked around, made a few inappropriate comments, and all while you were sitting in between them.

Shortcake did try and make small talk with you. She told you how much she’s learning from Billy and what an amazing and talented tattoo artist he is.

You smiled, feeling like it was coming from a genuinely innocent place, but maybe she just doesn’t realize how flirtatious she was being and Billy reciprocating was starting to make your blood boil and you couldn’t take any more of it tonight.

“Billy, I uh think I need to call it a night. I’m a little tired.”

Billy had a look of concern on his face. “Are you sure, baby?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m sure.” You said, trying to smile.

After Billy put the tegaderm on, he started to clean up his station. “Well, I’ll clean up and take you home, ok?”

“It’s ok Billy, I know you’ve been teaching Shortcake some things after hours so I’ll let you do that, I can walk home by myself. It’s fine.” You said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Before you could really give him a chance to argue, you walked over to him, planted a gentle kiss on his lips, said goodbye to everyone and left.

As soon as you closed the door to the shop, it was hard not to feel angry and suddenly your eyes welled up with tears.

They were flirting with each other right in front of you and you just couldn’t be around them right now. All you wanted was to go home and go to bed, you’d deal with all of this tomorrow.

**********

Billy texted a few times after you left the studio, wanting to know if you got home alright, if you were ok, and mentioned that he was going to be working with Shortcake during the day tomorrow and then a client in the evening but he wanted you to stop by because he wanted to see you.

Your eyes closed in relief, he wanted to see you even though he was busy tomorrow. Maybe you really were just overreacting to their banter, it’s a tattoo shop so of course conversations are going to be slightly inappropriate. They were just having fun.

You made sure to text him back.

Of course I’ll come see you tomorrow, handsome.

You followed it up with three heart emoji’s and planned to apologize in person for basically just up and leaving and why you did it.

Billy was definitely a man of routine, he called you the next morning like he had every morning for the past couple of weeks and even though he was busy at the shop, he made sure he was available to talk to you during your lunch break.

In the background, you could hear everyone in the shop heckling Billy because of how sweetly he was talking to you, how he was whispering into the phone and because of how happy they were saying he looked while doing it.

“I’ll see you after I get outta work, Billy.” You said.

He didn’t even try to hide the happiness in his voice in front of the other artists and you could picture very clearly, the smile he had stretched across his face.

“I can’t wait, beautiful. I’ll see you soon.” He said.

**********

Roaring laughter erupted from the other side of the shop door before you reached for the handle. Anytime you heard Billy laugh, it put a smile on your face. After closing the door behind you, he greeted you with a smile that could melt your insides.

Billy was watching while Shortcake worked on a handsome man wearing red tinted glasses, leaning in close to her, and smiling at her like he smiled at you.

You could feel your stomach clench in resentment, every muscle in your body stiffened, and your cheeks flamed with anger any time he touched her back, moved a stray hair away from her face so she’d be able to see better, or reciprocate after she said something flirtatious.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Billy? Can I talk to you for a minute out on the back deck? Please?” There was an acid burn of bitterness in your throat as you marched over to the back door and nearly ripped it off the hinges when you opened it.

The mood of the shop completely shifted. Suddenly, it was eerily quiet, no one was laughing, and the air inside quickly became thick with tension.

Billy followed you out to the back deck and closed the door so no one could hear anything.

“Is everything ok, y/n? You seem a little upset.” He asked.

“Oh you picked up on that, huh?!” Sarcasm dripping from your mouth, you protectively folded your arms across your chest as you asked. “Do you two do this every day? Trade flirty remarks back and forth? You’re not even toning it down while I’m here! You did it last night, you’re doing it now! You have any idea how that makes me feel, Billy?!!”

Your eyes were burning with tears and between clenched teeth, the words burned in the back of your throat like white hot fire.

“It’s just playful banter, baby. It’s a tattoo shop, you know how it is in there. You’ve been a part of it too!” He explained.

“She has a thing for you, Billy!” You shouted.

Billy shook his head furiously. “No, she doesn’t. I promise you, sweet girl. I’m not even her type.”

You let out a sharp laugh and scoffed at his claim. “Oh please, you’re everyone’s type!!”

Your skin felt like it was engulfed in flames and you turned to grab the door handle so you could leave but Billy stopped you.

“Baby, please! I don’t want you to go! I just thought we were all messing around, she’s just really friendly and flirty. I didn’t know that it would affect you like this, so I’m—I’m sorry ok? I don’t have ANY interest in Shortcake because—I” There was a piercing dryness in his throat.

You could tell he was nervous.

“Well…I’m waiting!” You demanded.

Billy inhaled sharply. “I don’t have any interest in Shortcake because I’m in love with someone else.”

Taken completely by surprise, you responded. “What?”

“Yeah, she is quite the firecracker, beautiful, smart, she makes me laugh, plus she looks really cute when she’s mad at me. And I really hope she loves me too because this conversation is gonna get really awkward, really fast if she doesn’t.” He said with a warm smile.

Your hand dropped away from the door handle and you let out a little laugh.

“You love me?” You asked shyly.

Billy pulled your body flush with his, those liquid brown eyes staring down at you as he wiped the tear that trickled down your cheek.

“I do…I do love you. I’ve been in love with you for quite some time.” He whispered.

You snaked your arms around his neck. “I love you too, Billy.”

Billy leaned in to softly press his lips to yours. His kisses always gave you butterflies and you never wanted that feeling to go away.

“Oh by the way, the guy that Shortcake has in her chair right now has bionic hearing or some shit so I’m sure he heard EVERYTHING.” He said. “She also has a little bit of a thing for him.”

“Oh shit, really?” You said in a surprised tone. “Well he sure got a show, didn’t he. And I guess I know her type now, don’t I.”

You let out a chuckle and so did Billy.

“Baby, I know you don’t appreciate the flirting so I won’t reciprocate anymore. Plus, I’ve seen your face when women flirt with me when they come in to make an appointment.” He said.

Slightly embarrassed you replied. “Oh…you’ve seen that?”

“If looks could kill, my love.” Said Billy. “But that just means you’re crazy about me.” He said with a slightly wicked smile and a wink.

“Well you’re right about that, handsome. I am crazy about you.” You said and kissed him again.

After going back inside, everyone seemed to scramble back to their stations which made you laugh. Shortcake apologized profusely and said she didn’t mean to cause any trouble. You also apologized to her and everyone else.

The last thing you wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable in any way, she seemed like a great addition to the shop and you wanted her to stay.

Billy walked over to his desk calendar. Looking over the dates for the next few weeks, he asked you “Baby, when do you wanna come back so I can finish your leg?”

You narrowed your eyes and crossed your arms across your chest. “Ya know, you really should have been done by now, Billy. You get to see me naked, so I shouldn’t have to keep coming back so you can finish something that should have taken one session.”

You flashed him a smile and a wink, everyone started to laugh.

When Billy told you he wanted you back in the chair in another two weeks, you could feel eyes on your backside.

“ANDY!! How many times do I have to tell you to keep your eyes off my girlfriend’s ass?! Seriously, bro!” Billy shouted.

“And he calls ME a firecracker! If looks could kill, baby.” You said, pushing yourself up onto your toes to give Billy a kiss on the cheek. “But that just means you’re crazy about me, right handsome?”

He turned his head, gazed down at you, and hungrily attacked your lips with his.

“Oh you have no idea, sweet girl.”

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godesssiri · 1 year

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Thrifting Philosophies 1

Getting the good stuff requires commitment, knowledge, and luck. There’s always going to be an element of luck in thrifting. What are the chances that the perfect item will be donated and put out on the shelves of the very thrift store that you are going to and that you will get your mitts on it before anyone else? There is real kismet in walking out of a thrift store with an item that you’ve dreamed of, I literally daydreamed about one of my best scores (a 2.5-foot-tall ceramic panther) for years before it actually happened – and discovering it actually went almost exactly like my daydream.* Don’t let the luck factor put you off because if you are committed and knowledgeable then luck will come to you more often.

You have to go often. You have to have a circuit and make it routine and scour every inch of the store. Like I said I daydreamed for years before I found my panther, you’re NOT going to just walk into a thrift store and find your dream thing first try, unless you are extraordinarily lucky. I’ve noticed a couple of the Youtubers I watch that have a very specific aesthetic, and know exactly what they want, often mention searching new listings online every single day, they have their list of search terms, and they just keep looking every day until they find exactly what they’re looking for. Thrifting dream items is a hunt, and you have to remember you are a persistence predator so be persistent.

Being knowledgeable about what you are looking for will also increase your luck. The more you learn about the thing you love the more search terms you learn it could be listed under. The more you train your eye the more likely you are to spot the gems. I recently scored a Lisa Larson figurine for $3; her stuff goes for hundreds, and I never thought I would be able to own something of hers. But because I was familiar with her design style when I saw this little dog (on the shelf where my favorite thrift store stashes stuff they think is crap and they just want to sell it cheap) I was able to identify it as something that looked like her other designs and scoop it up. The marking on the base was so faint it was barely readable, and I had to google her mark so I could compare side by side. I then googled ‘Lisa Larson dog’ and checked the image results and sure enough my little guy popped up. Google is your friend in these cases and whenever I’m in a thrift store and think I’ve found something good, but I don’t know enough to tell for sure I’ll put it in my basket and take a seat in one of the armchairs that are for sale, and I’ll google away. Researching on your phone while you’re in store is the best way to decide if the thing in your basket is a bargain or not, today I saw a malachite box in the cabinet at the thrift store but it was a bit pricey, $40, so I googled to see if it was worth that, boxes of a comparable size were popping up for $150-$200 so you bet I snapped it up for $40. If you’re interested in an item, then do your research so when you spot it you instantly know what you’re looking at. Looking at lots of examples of a thing online means that when you come across it in real life it will draw your eye so it’s more likely jump out at you when it otherwise might be lost in among all the other stuff on the shelves – I’ve trained myself to spot antique blue and white china from just seeing the rim of a plate in a stack of random plates. I absolutely cannot emphasize enough that you need to know that you’re looking at something special when you lay eyes on it, there is so much good quality stuff in thrift stores you just have to be able to recognize it when you see it. The more you research and dream about finding your goal items, the more likely you are to stand in a thrift store and squint at something and go: Is that? No couldn’t be. Maybe it is? Then pick it up and turn it over to discover that it’s exactly what you thought it was and you’ve got a treasure in your hands. People talk about manifesting the things you want, and I do believe that you can. But I believe it has less to do with putting mystical vibe out into the universe to bring you those things and more to do with training you brain to spot the opportunity to get those things.

*The panther story for anyone who’s interested. I’ve been drooling over these huge ceramic big cats on Pintrest for years and desperately wanted one, you can get tigers, cheetahs, leopards, panthers, and they’re usually sitting up and are about 2.5 feet tall. They were mid-century and original ones sell for $$$$, you can buy new reproductions from the original molds but even those are in the 1-2 thousand range so yeah, I was never gonna be able to buy one. I daydreamed that someday I would walk into my favorite thrift store and find one. I live in an area with a lot of retirees who had money around the time these were being made so my chances were decent. My favorite store has a fully glass frontage and they put the best stuff where you can see in the windows. I daydreamed that I would be walking up to the store and see it through the window before I’d even gotten through the door, that I would beeline for it and grab it growling “Mine!”, and march it up to the counter without even looking at the price, I dreamed that when I got to the counter I would check the price and it would be incredibly reasonable – like $200 (considering how much even reproductions sell for). The things that went differently from my daydream: It was just after a Covid lock-down and here in New Zealand we used to scan-in to public places using a QR code which registered us on a government app – if someone tested positive everyone who had been in a location they had been to at the same time as them could be warned through the app. I saw my panther through the window just like my daydream and was fumbling to scan in while making loud inarticulate noises that embarrassed my mother and brother who were with me. My brother carried him up to the counter for me because I was shaking with excitement. When I actually stopped to check his price, he was $75!!!!!!!!!!! My brother also found a David Bowie book that day that retails for hundreds and that he’d wanted but never thought he would be able to afford, it was also $75. My mother still talks about my squealing and just about running people over to get to Jayjay the Panther (my honorary nephew, Jayjay then 4-years-old, was the one that named him, and he wanted to name him Jayjay).

My previous thrift post

#thrifting #solarpunk #fuck capitalism #sustainability #eco home #reduce reuse recycle #thrift shopping

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domini-porter · 4 months

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“today’s words brought to you, as always, by the notes app”

As always?? AS ALWAYS?? I don’t know why I can’t get over this. This is the second time I’ve seen you mention the Notes app and I continue to be mystified. Like I write on my phone sometimes, but only by necessity and always in Google docs. But the Notes app?? Does it have secret functionality I’m not aware of? Can you make comments or notations? Can you backtrack several sentences with an undo command? Is there an intermediary stage where you edit on a computer or does it go straight from the notes app to “Add Chapter”? This must be what Salieri felt like (minus the murderous part).

Anyway.

Uh.

Keep up the good work. In the Notes app. Where you do all your writing.

NOTES APP GANG

I’ve written almost exclusively in the Notes app since there was a Notes app to write in! Something about having to sit at a computer changes writing from Fun to Work. I think it’s my academic history plus the misery of the random desk jobs I’ve had? But with good ol’ Notey I can sit on my back porch drinking iced americanos for hours while I daydream about my OTP. Bliss!

And nope, no extra functionality (if anything, I wish it had both a little more and a little less, like, I’d love to be able to add words to the dictionary, and why is there a table function in a text app? and why does my thumb hit it all the time?). I’m a pretty undisciplined writer in that I just brain-dump a chapter in one go, usually without outlining or anything; one of my favorite things about writing big stories is typing an unexpected sentence that means there’s suddenly a B-plot or twist I wasn’t anticipating. It’s not necessarily wise, or good writing practice, but it’s sure exhilarating! (I do think constantly about the story, though, and do a lot of mental composition, so often it’s more like transcription than creation when I sit down to write.)

The only sort of outline or broad story note I keep is a list of all the character names, since there are so many, and I either need to avoid repetition or remember what minor characters might continually reappear (all the rich families, for example).

In general I have maybe a line of dialogue or a mental image I build stuff around, and a loose idea of how I want the plot to move forward. I usually don’t know specifics until I’m reading the thing I just wrote, which lets me know what happens next. Very wild magic-esque, which is again fun to do, but also pretty risky, because what if I decide something in Chaper 4 that I have to remember in Chapter 18? Or someone says something in Chapter 9 that recontextualizes something from Chapter 5? What about the overall pacing? I don’t even have a sense of how long they’ll be (other than “long”). Fortunately, I re-read things to a neurotic degree, and have the great good luck of living with a person who loves to talk endlessly about the process with me, which keeps it all fresh.

Which is also where the Notes app comes back in! There’s a strong appeal about it being so immediate—the words are constrained on a smaller screen, and I type them one-thumbèdly, which is way slower than with all the fingers, so it’s easier for me to stay locked into one scene or beat. And all the previous stuff is just a back-tap away, when I need to reference it! I also read fic exclusively on my phone, so seeing it the same format while I’m writing forces my brain into that context more easily.

I do use a computer to post new stuff! I’ll copy the chapter into Word (I am an Old), but just to see the word count, and to save it in a master document. I do chapter posting on a computer too, because of the stupid paragraph-break formatting in the AO3 text editor. I mostly edit as I write, though when the whole story is done I’ve taken to going back and editing it like one would a traditional manuscript (indents instead of line breaks, being mean to myself about my love of adverbs, etc)(this also means I have the stories in novel form, if anyone wants to have a copy).

Basically, I’m a lawless brain-dumper who does no due diligence! I have a lot of admiration for writers who have discipline; I constitutionally do not. For example, I love reading about your process! It’s so different from mine, but it gets results, and it’s fascinating to see how other writers approach their work!

#fanfiction #writing stuff #writing #notes app gang #doomsday-dj #ask

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eternalglitch · 2 years

Note

I want to study your brain with a microscope. What does your writing process look like??? SHAKING YOU!!!

Here's my google docs sheet for the planning that I did for this current arc (as far as has been published). The entirety of the rest of lfls is laid out like this. I like to keep it pretty simple for the planning because I KNOW my details make even one sentence summary last a good while and don't want to fall trap to shoving too much into one chapter.

Plus, I like the ability to naturally feel out where each scene can otherwise go emotionally.

After that, I tend to run through "rehearsals" in my head of the chapter, which is just daydreaming and adjusting dialogue or beats. This happens in the shower, on walks, when I'm going to sleep.

I'll start jotting down rough chunks of the story and keeping them in my files for when the time comes to put them in order and connect / rewrite them. Usually they get entirely tossed or redone and some of my friends sulk that I save very few of these "outtakes" because I forget that what I consider expired writing is still fun for others to look at lol.

#glitch answers #lfls

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eddie-redmayne-italian-blog · 6 months

Text

Sorry for the fake nerd post lol Quick trip to Cabaret with Eddie Redmayne, who started performing on NY Broadway in April ✨️ Eddie Redmayne is the MC of Cabaret!? And this performance made the blood of a former nerd viewer. Cabaret itself is a performance that depicts the relationships and love patterns of those living in boring Berlin under Nazi Germany to be radical and black, so it can be a little difficult to deal with, but still I love the catchy songs of Cabaret.. (Please see posts with music 🎶)!

Eddie Redmayne's role as the MC in Cabaret is a strange, comedic, strangely difficult role as a philanthropist. I was amazed by the breadth of his acting skills in the movie "All About Lily", so I couldn't help but wait to see how he would play the MC! And of course, not to disappoint, his MC performance was fantastic. Bend your knees and your fingertips, are you really that kind Eddie Redmayne? Strangeness that makes you think. But with a slightly husky voice, Eddie Redmayne! It will happen! Lol and he was quite fit (when he appeared in one of the heart-shaped pants, he didn't think he was a friend: "Eh!! It's heavy!" With the "pussy" 🤣)

The stage show was absolutely brilliant! First swipe the ticket at the entrance leads to the neon-lit red and black corridor. From now on, there will be a ban on filming, stickers on the back of the camera...... Shots of 🥃 are given everywhere we go, and in a mysterious space where the dancers let loose. The Kit Kat Club on stage from the moment you entered the theater. Don't forget if you can go because the show starts at 8pm but these entertainments start at 7pm. I've already had a lot of fun!!

And finally the unforgettable memories...... While waiting for the show, Eddie Redmayne came to say hello✨️ Of course, he took my iPhone to autograph with me😭 A British gentleman who is as smooth as you can imagine♡ He is only in NY can you meet such fantastic stars!! After that, I chilled with my friends in the comfort of my daydreams lol. I'm still a little crazy lol. I want to see his works from now on.

Thanks to my dear friend for coming! Thanks also to all the adoptive dads! Lol this was an unforgettable memory of New York ✨️

sorry I used google trans for English.

thanks to https://www.instagram.com/p/C5kSKxDOvKE/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

#eddie redmayne #cabaret new production #cabaret nyc #the emcee #fan adventure #august wilson #theatre #nyc #eddie redmayne cabaret

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milkymoon2483 · 2 years

Text

Kiss it better

Pairing: Jake Lockley x female reader

Summary: This fic explores cheating from the cheater’s perspective. You are a wife and mother, content with your life…until something awakens within you, and it will not go back to sleep.

Rating: 18 + Minors DNI, this stuff is for grown-ups

Warnings: Angst galore, Cheating, infidelity, SMUT, Unprotected P in V (reader makes all sorts of bad decisions folks).

Dedications:

Thank you miss @cozykalii for sending me down the fanfic rabbit hole all those months ago. Thank you Cici @astroboots for being amazing and for answering all of my asks. Thank you bestie (you know who you are) for helping me bring this baby out. ;-) Thank you @foxilayde for allowing me to tag you, and for the amazing stuff you write. Lastly, English is not my first language, Spanish is not even my 4th (thanks Google Translate) I tried my very best.

Word count: ~8500

You were watching TV while mindlessly playing on your phone when it happened, you looked at the screen and the broad chest was the first thing that caught your attention, the camera moved down to his big veiny hands as he grabbed the weapon. Sweat glistened on his face, collecting in the cupid’s bow above his lips. You didn't know the actor’s name but you watched breathlessly, the surge of heat to your core was immediate. Oh my goodness.. you whispered under your breath. You wanted to lick the beads of sweat off his lips and take his thick fingers into your mouth, watch him gaze at you lustfully. Your husband’s snores from the other side of the couch informed you that any satisfaction you were after would need to be achieved independently.

Not that he would be much help anyway…

It��s not that you didn’t love him or were not content with your life, it’s just that your sex life was never perticularly exciting. And it got much less so after the birth of your son. Babies would do that to you.

You knew you had everything that anyone could even want; A loving husband, a wonderful smart kid, a great job and a big beautiful house. You were happy to settle and keep your sexdrive in some hidden drawer at the back of your mind, stuffed behind embarrassing memories and questionable decisions. However that night it crept right back out, like a pest you could not get rid of, demanding your attention.

The batteries in your vibrator ran out the following week. You looked at the anatomically accurate member with disappointment. Feeling both frustrated at the sudden loss of pleasurable vibrations and ashamed at the amount of times you've abused it. You had plenty of orgazms but it was clear to you that you barely began to scratch your itch, you needed more.

You wished you could dream about it. Even just once, you wished your mind would conjure a proper erotic dream. That would be enough for you, with all of your daydreaming and longing and inappropriate googling, you'd think that it would be able to come up with a decent dream. Alas your realm of dreams was filled with random stressful scenarios.

You would find yourself on the streets naked (not in a sexy way), or you'd forget to pick up your kid from daycare, or you would leave something on the stove for too long, causing your entire house to engulf in flames. “Some very anxiety-ridden-demented-senile shit” as you described it to a friend.

Any semi-sexual dreams would almost always be about rejection, or dissatisfaction, or the inability to have any privacy. They would almost always feature your husband. Because apparently your sleeping brain couldn't be bothered to keep up with your very filthy and creative waking brain. It had a very impressive curated selection of men to choose from, but it went with the blob snoring next to you. All you wanted is to be properly fucked, licked, adored, desired…to feel the delicious weight of a man on top of you as he glides into you, his kisses flowing from your mouth to your jawline and to the neck, him whispering softly how good you make him feel, how soft and sweet and wet you are for him…and a dream would do. You could live with a memory of it, it would possibly sustain you just for a little bit longer, maybe would quench your thirst, even slightly.

*******

You were on your second chocolate bar of the day, looking at Vivienne typing away on her computer. She looked you up and down, judging silently your choice of afternoon snack.

She's always on some diet or another. Probably explains the constant resting bitch face.

You however, have been replacing sex with chocolate for weeks now, attempting to fend off the intrusive thoughts and somehow satisfy the hunger that was pulsating inside of you, permanent and relentless.

The evening came quickly, you were grateful work managed to keep your mind busy. You were yawning repeatedly while trying to catch a cab. After waking up at 5AM that morning and working for 10 hours, the exhaustion was making your eyes sting. The rush hour meant that it would take some time, but to your surprise not a minute passed before a cab stopped.

The smell hit you as soon as you sat down. Musky masculine cologne mixed with something fresh and minty, and the faintest scent of a man, ghost like, almost as if you could smell his pheromones. You inhaled sharply, breathing in the scent. It brought back a memory that you couldn’t quite place. You never had a date that smelled this amazing, let alone a cab driver. “Where to miss?” the driver asked, his voice husky with a hint of an accent. You gave him your address, piercing brown eyes gazed at you from the rear view mirror.

He drove silently through the dark streets, gentle Spanish music was playing in the background, the backseat was very spacious, dimly lit, you began to doze off, surrendering to the fatigue that had built up throughout the day.

Jake looked through the mirror, you were leaning on your palm, breathing peacefully.

Your delicate neck was exposed, and he noticed the slight cleavage of your button-down top. You looked tired, but serene.

He usually drove in silence, not eager to share his thoughts on current affairs or to have to listen to people’s problems. You seemed to appreciate it, as you fell asleep within minutes. He smiled to himself. He wished for a moment all of his passengers were asleep, which would have made the job much easier.

Jake parked the cab in front of your house, the suburban street was quiet.

“Miss? Miss?... We're here, miss, wake up”

You did not budge, your breath heavy and steady. He waited a few more seconds, inspecting your sleeping body. Your head was still leaning on your palm, hair softly cascading down your shoulders. There was something picturesque about your pose. You looked like a painting or a photograph.

"Necesito despertarla.. mierda" (I need to wake her, shit)

You stirred when his large gloved hand touched your knee gently “Miss, wake up please” Now you could see his face, stern but handsome. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry” you finally came to it, his gaze felt heavy on your skin. Penetrating. You apologized profusely and opened the cab door to exit.

“It’s ok, buenas noches” he said, a faint smile on his lips did not reach his eyes.

You quickly bid him farewell, missing the lovely smell as soon as you exited the cab.

*********

The next time you entered the cab Jake recognized you right away. “Buenos días, bella durmiente” (Good morning, sleeping beauty). He seemed quite pleased to see you.

You recognized him too. He could see you take a deep breath as you sat down, closing your eyes at the beautiful masculine scent. A warmth pooled in your core. Am I getting turned on just by this guy’s smell?

“Buenos dias to you too” you chuckled shyly. Gosh that sounds wrong with my accent.

“Hope you slept well, where can I take you?”

You gave him the address, not saying anything else as you felt yourself actually becoming nervous. He drove silently for a while, but the nervousness continued.

A song Jake loved came on the radio and he began to sing along quietly. Your eyes lifted to him and your ears perked up.

His voice was beautiful and smooth, less deep than you thought it would be, a lovely tenor. You smiled to yourself as he sang, the Spanish flowing from his mouth so effortlessly. You finally worked up the courage to compliment him, but you waited until the song finished. He seemed to be enjoying it too much for you to disturb.

“You have a great voice” You finally said. “Gracias, miss….?” He replied, with a genuine smile this time.

“I’m Y/N…. You also smell really good… I mean your car…CAB. Your cab smells really good”.

You felt yourself blush, cheeks heating up immediately after the words left your mouth. God that was embarrassing.

Jake chuckled “Thanks, sweetheart”

Sweetheart… you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

He took the opportunity to look at you again for a brief moment, he saw you tucking your hair behind your ear. Light catching on the golden band on your ring finger, face blooming in a shade of pink.

“Im Jake, encantada de conocerte”

“Nice to meet you too…?” You were not sure you understood but you guessed your best. Suddenly eager to learn Spanish.

“Ci, That’s right.”

“Maybe you should teach me some more Spanish, at least while I’m here”

Ok now you're FLIRTING…? You obviously forgot how to..

“Well I charge extra for that. Es muy caro”

He's flirting back..?

“I bet you do. Guess we’ll have to stick to English then”

“Or agree on a payment plan, I can give you a discount” He chuckled.Oh, he IS flirting back.

The tone between you two was playful, laced with just enough suggestion, and you were loving every minute of it. It felt like it’s been forever since you properly flirted with a man, and a warm feeling bloomed in your belly.

When he stopped in front of your office building you were disappointed that you actually had to get off.

He turned back, reaching out a gloved hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you” you said playfully, reaching your hand to him, expecting a handshake.

He took it gently, turned it and placed a peck on the back of your hand.

Heat rose to your face and you giggled.

Well HE obviously didn't forget how to flirt.

When you exited the cab you allowed yourself to smile fully, exhilarated by the exchange between the two of you. Ok calm down. He’s a cab driver, probably flirts all the time with his clients, just some harmless fun. He probably knows that women fall for the sexy Spanish shtick.

You giggled to yourself as you repeated the words “sexy Spanish shtick” out loud. Giddy like a goddamn teenager.

Later you replayed the whole conversation in your head, overthinking as usual, you tried not to let it get out of proportion, it’s just that it’s been so fucking long since you felt noticed and desired, you were ready to cling to any interaction that made you feel like that.

Some low hanging fruit you are.. you told yourself, wondering if you cooperated too quickly, if the whole exchange made you look pathetic.

It was hard to admit to yourself that you needed to be desired by men, other than the one you married. It felt juvenile, greedy even. Even when you did come to terms with it , it was clear to you that it was obviously limited to looks and words, you didn't plan on acting on any of it.

**********

The heatwave was washing over the city, laying thick like a heavy blanket you could not shake off. July was merciless, and the mid- day sun burnt so bright it caused heat to reflect from the scorching pavement.

You’ve spent all morning running errands, and now you were finally done at the market, making your way back to the bus stop. Your work did not cover cab fare on weekends and the bus ride wasn’t too long. The 5 minute walk to the station was, however, much longer than you imagined. With the heavy bags in your hands cutting the circulation to your fingers, your dress sticking to your body, sweat pooling on your back, and the blazing sun above, you felt as if you were about to melt into the sidewalk. You imagined yourself turning into a puddle, and then evaporating quickly under the blazing heat.

BEEP BEEP

The sound jolted you, you looked to your left as the cab window rolled down.

“Need a ride?” Jake smiled

Your core went all jittery at the sound of his voice. You'd clap with excitement like a baby seal if your hands were free…calm your tits.

“Hey Jake! I’m actually walking to the bus stop, it’s just around the corner”

You hoped he would insist.

“Come on, it’s on my way, I’ll drop you off”.

“How do you know it’s on your way? I haven't told you were I was going”

You just couldn’t resist teasing him.

“No seas un sabelotodo. You’re melting, get in” (don't be a smartass)

“If you insist… I AM actually melting”

Jake opened the driver’s door, he walked up to you and grabbed the grocery bags to put them in the back. You were finally able to get a good look at him. He was wearing a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, with a black tie. Hat and gloves still in place, defiant against the scorching heat. You couldn't help yourself from sneaking a good look at his butt. His dark jeans complimented his ample ass and thick thighs.

“Get in the front seat, the AC is much stronger”

You nodded and got in, the heavenly smell filling your lungs again, a bit stronger now that you sat closer to him.

Jake cranked up the AC as you leaned in, lifting your hair up, relishing in the breeze, albeit artificial. Your neck arched back, exposing more skin to the cooling air. You closed your eyes and a satisfied hum left your lips.

Jake was careful not to stare, but he couldn’t help but notice the way your neck was exposed completely, your skin glistening with sweat. Your dress rode up slightly when you sat down, revealing a little more of your thigh.

A few seconds passed before he remembered he actually needed to drive.

“Where to, miss Y/N?” He asked

“Home please, the address is..”

“I remember where that is” “You must have a great memory then, because in this heat I barely remember”

“I try to remember the important stuff”

Jake replied, a small grin adorned his lips and you grinned right back, avoiding his eyes. That would be much too intense and you were already boiling.

When you arrived he parked the cab. "I'll help you carry the bags inside" he said before you had a chance to protest.

"Please you have already done so much, it's really not that heavy" you tried to resist. He waved his gloved hand at your statement and proceeded to take the bags out and carry them towards your door.

As you unlocked the door your heart sank, you weren't sure you wanted him to come inside.

When you both walked in, he placed the bags on the kitchen island and looked around. There was no point in denying the family photos and scattered toys.

"Cute kid, seems happy" he said, picking up one of the framed photos.

"Yeah, he is, thanks" you replied, smiling shyly, not willing to elaborate on the topic.

"I bet you're a good mom" he persisted, still holding your son's picture in his hand. "I love him very much, so I try my best, though nobody's perfect, certainly not me". You replied.

He smiled and put the picture back, perhaps sensing your discomfort.

You never really spoke with him about being a wife and a mother (and you were grateful that both of them weren't home) Although you also never hid the wedding band on your hand.

This was not ok, you knew it.

What the hell is wrong with me?? Inviting a stranger into my house? Happy that my family is not home? Am I demented?

You had to admit it to yourself, this scenario would be 10/10 creepy if Jake wasn't so attractive. He could also be like Ted Bundy, all smiles and charm before he chops me into little pieces.

"Can I offer you something cold to drink?" You attempted to change the subject.

Jake nodded and you promptly handed him a glass of cold water.

He downed it all in one go, as you watched his adam's apple bob on his thick neck while he drank.

He handed you the glass and your fingers brushed against his gloved ones.

"Thank you so much Jake, I really appreciate it, really, you shouldn't have"

"Esta bien, dont worry about it, my pleasure" he smiled.

You walked him back to the front door, feeling awkward and nervous. You weren't sure what to do. Do I shake his hand? Do I peck him on the cheek? Maybe a small polite hug?

You both stopped by the door, facing each other, you finally met his gaze. Beautiful deep brown eyes were looking at you, adorned with long dark lashes. They seemed much softer than you initially thought.

"You have an eyelash on your cheek, may I? " he asked and you could only nod.

Your eyes moved to his hands as he removed his glove, watching with tethered breath as if it was in slow motion. After removing the glove, he very gently brushed your cheek with his thumb. "Now you need to make a wish" he smirked. The air was thick and heavy ,and your heart was thumping in your throat.

Without thinking, you placed your hand on his, and blew on the small lash on his thumb.

As it flew off somewhere you made your wish.

Fuck me. Kiss me.

*******

It was just one of those days. Everything that could go wrong absolutely did. It started with a missed alarm in the morning, continued with a tantrum from your toddler, who was outraged by the fact that the banana you served him for breakfast was indeed shaped like a banana, and not like a pineapple. Following that was an argument with your husband, about the proper way to handle said tantrum.

Your cab driver that morning was insisting on having a political debate which you didn't want to participate in, and to top it off, the traffic was worse than usual.

By the time you arrived at the office you were 35 minutes late, and positively exhausted.

You were sure that with the morning you had, nothing could possibly go wrong at work. You were proven wrong when your boss called you out on a very stupid mistake you made, and scollded you (publicly of course) about your lack of attention to detail. It wasn't like him to do that, but you guessed it fit perfectly with the rest of your miserable day.

After a quiet cry in the bathroom, you were finally able to calm down. You sat on the toilet, wiping your tears away, and the memory of Jake came to your mind. There was something comforting in the thought of him, he was your little secret. He made you feel noticed, seen. It's been almost a week since you last saw him, since the exchange that left you breathless and flustered.

You could admit to yourself that you wanted to see him again, that you liked how absolutely dangerously close you were to making a mistake. All you needed at that point was a tiny push in the wrong direction. Then It made you feel even worse when you considered the implications, playing horrible scenarios in your head about how horrible this could all end for you. Trying to convince yourself that it’s not worth it. The price you’d have to pay would be too high.

Not that anything will actually happen anyway… The thought made you feel both relieved and frustrated. Because damn it, you wanted it to.

When 5 o'clock rolled around you were DONE, completely defeated by the day. You grabbed your stuff as quickly as possible and practically snuck out of the office the moment your boss turned his head.

Jake's cab was waiting under the building. You recognized it immediately. You wondered if he's free, allowing yourself to indulge in the thought of him waiting for you.

For a split second you tried to think of an excuse not to approach him, because getting in the cab with him wasn’t a good idea, on the other hand you were grateful to see a friendly face after the day you just had.

Jake smiled widely when he saw you, signaling you to get in. You got in the seat next to him, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. I will never get over how he smells you thought to yourself as you settled.

“Mi pasajera favorita'' He smiled widely, he seemed to be in a good mood, you smiled back, trying to fend off your lousy one. Although you were sure he’d react politely, you didn’t want to burden him with everything that happened, you didn’t think that cab drivers (or hairdressers, or nail technicians) should be forced to listen to other people's problems while trying to do their job.

He began driving without asking you for an address.

Jake could feel something was not quite right “Que pasa? Everything ok?”

“Just a very lousy day, nothing much really” you replied, hoping he would leave it at that.

“Do we need to go kill someone real quick? I’ll make sure they never find the body” he smirked, trying to lighten your obviously lousy mood. You giggled sadly, as your armor began to crack.

“Nah, I think I’ll let them live, I can’t get messed up in murder, plus orange looks terrible on me”

“Can't imagine anything looking terrible on you” he replied, serious all of a sudden. Your forced laugh tried to break the awkwardness.

“Seriously, you can tell me querida"

You loved his terms of endearment, especially the Spanish ones.

“It really was just a crappy day. Lots of small things that went wrong, but I’m glad to see you. I needed a friendly face after all that shit” you ended the sentence with a bite of bitterness to your voice, fighting back tears that began to sting the corners of your eyes.

It felt so stupid to cry, for a second time that day, and in front of Jake.

“Hey..hey querida.. No, don't cry…” He said softly, which had the exact opposite effect as more tears rolled down your face. It was as if he broke the dam, finally giving you permission to let your guard down.

He pulled over, it was only about half a mile before reaching your house, but he couldn't bear to see you like that.

“I’m so sorry, this is so embarrassing, oh my god, shit…” you spoke through your tears, sniffling, desperately trying to stop them.

He unbuckled his seat belt and turned to you, placing his large hand on your shoulder, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles. It was heavy and warm and made you want to pull closer to him.

“It’s gonna be ok mami, it’s just a bad day, you're gonna be fine…”

You unbuckled and turned to him as well, the sobbing subsided, giving way to the nervousness that buzzed through you. Some tears were still escaping your eyes, he gently brushed them away with his hand and you leaned into his touch.

Your heart was beating mercilessly, belly in knots. You just sat there for a few moments, allowing his touch to both soothe and excite you. There was a lump in your throat and a pool of heat between your thighs. You knew he should stop but desperately wanted him to continue.

“Do you want me to kiss it better…hmmm?” he asked almost in a whisper, making your heart flutter even more violently.

You did not respond, any response would result in a lose-lose situation. You didn’t want to admit how much you wanted this, you also didn't want to say no. You knew this was the dreaded push in the wrong direction, and you were paralized with fear, drawing only shallow breaths.

His gloved thumb grazed over your cheek and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, making goosebumps run down your spine.

He leaned forward slowly placing a soft kiss on your cheekbone,

and then another one on your cheek,

and another one tethering on the edge of your lips.

The fourth kiss reached your lips, soft and delicate, stained with your tears.

Your core heated up immediately, you couldn't help but lean into the kiss, pressing your lips onto his. His hand was gently cupping your face as your lips brushed softly against each other. It was a chaste, delicate kiss. His smell was making you dizzy, the masculine musk in it somehow amplified.

You felt yourself physically torn, lust and guilt mixing inside of you into a nauseating concoction.

"Stop please, I can't" you came to your senses briefly, laying your palm on Jake's chest.

"Lo siento" Jake replied softly, eyes still closed. You were still inches apart, you could still feel his breath on you, his hand still cupping your cheek.

It took you all of five seconds before you were falling off the edge, pressing your lips on his again, admitting defeat, brushing his bottom lip with your tongue. That little flick of your tongue was all it took. Jake's hand moved to your neck, cupping your face between his thumb and index, his tongue licking into your mouth, his lips hot against yours, it was intense and possessive and conveyed nothing but desire and danger. He groaned softly against your lips as he claimed your mouth with his, you were barely able to catch a breath, heart slamming in your chest, mouth gasping for air but not able to break away from his kiss. He was kissing you like he wanted to have as much of you as possible while he still could.

Jake felt the pulse in your throat in his palm, galloping at a merciless pace. He fantasized about this for weeks, and now that he finally gave in, he was afraid he would devour you without being able to stop himself.

A very loud car honk jolted you both as your mouths finally detached. You were almost thankful that you were startled enough to stop, to replace the hunger in your veins with a stress response. You scrambled to collect your bag and quickly exited the cab, saying absolutely nothing, shocked at your own actions and at how far you've allowed yourself to go.

Jake stepped out of the cab after you, calling at you “Y/N I’m sorry! Please let me take you home! Lo siento mucho!”

You were almost running away at this point, and he did not want to cause you any more stress by following you. It was clear that a line had been crossed.

“Jake please go, I’ll walk home, please just go now…please” You shouted back with a shaky voice.

******

Your husband was a grateful man, he didn't know what happened, what prompted you to jump his bones the moment you put your son down for the night. It wasn’t like you to do that sort of thing, but he knew he would be stupid to complain.

You sucked him off like a starved woman before straddling his hips and riding him, your eyes shot with concentration, kisses hot and needy.

All you could think about was Jake, hoping to miraculously conjure him into existence, but it all tasted and smelled wrong.

You finally were able to cum with the thought of Jake fucking into you, mumbling soft praises in Spanish. How sweet his moans would sound, how sexy he would look with sweat glistening on his pecks.

FUCK you were screwed. You only had a small taste and it got you fucking hooked, nothing tasted like he did. You absolutely didn't want to want him as much as you did.

******

The pain in your chest took weeks to subside, but you could still feel the slight sting of it. Finally feeling less and less guilty, although you couldn’t really quit Jake. You would bring him up from your memory every day, like an imaginary friend. Faithfull only in the technical sense, you convinced yourself that it’s good enough, that maybe that earth shattering soul crushing kiss you shared was just what you needed, that you stopped just in time before it all went too far. Truthfully you could only thank that honking car, it was the true ‘hero’ of the story, the thing that actually made you stop.

You knew without a shadow of a doubt that another test would be impossible to withstand. Thank god you weren’t tested.

Until you were.

******

The evening was winding down, you had such a great time with your friends from work, better than you thought you would, you were in a cheerful mood for a change. It was a welcome break after weeks of nothing but work-home-childcare-bed, you finally had the evening to yourself. After three drinks it was clear you needed to call a cab. It would be a long ride, since you were not in your usual part of town. You decided to get yourself some water for the ride, to try and sober up a bit.

Walking into the bright convenience store made your eyes squint. The store was almost empty and quite large, allowing you to wonder quietly, contemplating the snack options that looked very appetizing in your drunken state. All of a sudden you felt a tingle at the back of your head, as if you were being watched. When you turned swiftly there was no one there. As you kept walking the feeling increased, you could almost feel the breath of someone down your neck, but the store seemed completely empty. The alcohol in your blood evaporated instantly and you felt completely sober, as the paranoia slowly set in.

You quickly grabbed a bottle of water and sprinted to the register. That was when you saw him. In the monitor above the clerk’s head, there was no mistaking that strong silhouette, but the cap was really the dead giveaway. He was standing behind the row of shelves, just out of your sight. What the hell?? Your heart rushed. Was it excitement? Fight or flight response? You were not sure. You turned on your heel, walking towards him before he even had the chance to realize what’s going on.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?!” You asked, your voice came out stronger than you anticipated. Perhaps you were still a little tipsy.

“Joder! I’m sorry Y/N”

“Why are you following me? You scared the shit out of me.”

“I..I wanted to come up to you, wasn't sure it’s a good idea, I wanted to apologize, for that time..”

You lifted your eyes to his, dark and hooded, he looked tired. The bright fluorescent lights were probably not doing you any favors either. You wanted to hug him, but of course you did. “Apology accepted,” you muttered quietly.

“Not like this, por favor cariño, can we talk?”

He grabbed your hand in his large gloved one. You looked down and saw your wedding band, pulling it right back. You exhaled sharply “fine Jake, let's talk, not here.”

Maybe closure isn’t such a bad idea, maybe the fact that you feel a little aggravated with him will make this easier.

You walked out of the store, he was a couple steps ahead of you, and if someone had seen you from the side they probably wouldn’t think you were together. You made sure to stay behind him, even walking with him made you nervous, guilty.

The alley was quiet and dark, the street lights illuminating everything in a dim yellow. Jake's face seemed even more angular, eyes shaded completely by his cap, thankfully. You wouldn't have been able to withstand his eyes piercing into yours. You leaned on his parked cab, folding your arms on your chest, while he stood in front of you, keeping a ‘professional’ distance as much as he could.

A heavy silence stood between the two of you, but your body reacted to the sight and smell of him. You were trying to ignore the need to pull him closer.

“Y/N, I'm very sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, it was weak of me. I shouldn’t have done what I did"

You looked at him but did not respond, letting the obvious set before you could reply.

“It wasn’t just your fault, Jake"

"Por favor Y/N, let me finish" His breathing seemed heavier, but he sounded almost authoritative.

"I…I was selfish. I knew it was wrong, I should have stopped myself, I just wanted to make you feel better, soy un idiota.."

The words you really wanted to reply sat on your tongue. Admit it already. Say it.

"Jake,I wanted it to happen. I kissed you back, 'soy un idiota' too.."

"Soy UNA idiota..female tense" he chuckled as he corrected you.

"Thank you for teaching me the proper way to call myself an idiot"

"Anytime, querida"

His voice softened.

"I love it when you call me that.."

You raised your eyes to meet his, as he took a step to close the gap between you, looking at you with an intensity and hunger, making your heart race.

“I was also weak” you whispered now that he was close, holding your hands in his.

“You make me weak Jake” Your anger has all but dissolved, and you were standing in front of him defenseless, unarmed. There was nothing that could protect you now.

He removed his gloves one by one, placing them on the roof of the cab behind you. His cap followed, revealing a mop of thick black curls, brushing them back with his hand as a few stray ones still bounced back onto his forehead.

You cupped his face, his stubble softly scratching the palm of your hand.

“Kiss me” you finally said it.

One of his arms rested on the cab, cornering you in, your bodies almost touching now, his scent clouding every remaining ounce of judgment you still possessed.

You could feel his heavy breath as he slowly ghosted his fingers on your jawline and neck and leaned in to kiss you.

He set a slow pace, but his kiss was anything but chaste this time. Dipping his tongue into your mouth, gently sucking on your bottom lip, his lips were soft and pillowy and he brushed them masterfully against your own, before breaking off the kiss to swipe his thumb on your lips. Your tongue darted out to lick the tip of his finger as if by itself, Jake's eyes flickered and he slowly pushed it into your mouth, with a quiet moan. Your tongue swirled around the thick digit, teeth scraped it, before he pulled it out only to kiss you again, deeper and more desperate.

His hand laced through your hair, pulling gently and exposing your neck. Jake's lips trailed sloppy open mouthed kisses from the back of your ear and all the way down to your clavicle. His hips were brushing his hard length against your belly. The combination was making your head spin, and your heat pool in your center. Your moans and whimpers were music to his ears. "You sound so pretty like this querida, making those sweet noises" he said with a raspy voice, teeth nibbling at your earlobe. His palm glided down to your breast, he brushed his fingers on it so tenderly that you barely noticed it until a wave of arousal shot into your core. His weight was pinning you to the car, he slid his thigh between your legs, feeling your heat, grinding his clothed cock it into you. Your fingers squeezed under the waistband of his jeans, tugging at the belt, grabbing at as much ass as you could, pulling him closer. You began to pull his shirt out, hands sliding up his warm firm back, he shivered slightly at your cold fingers and chuckled at your eagerness.

“Can I touch you? Do you want me to touch you, cariño?” he cooed sweetly.

"Fuck..ah..hhm" was all you managed to reply, it felt as if your wetness would drown you, your whole body felt liquid in his arms, reduced to a puddle of lust.

He slid his hand under the hem of your skirt, warm callused palm traveling up your thigh. His lips detached from you, he was breathing heavily and studying you closely. Sliding his fingers gently over your drenched panties as your face contorted with pleasure, until your hips started to buck at him. "Please touch me" you managed to breathe out. He obliged, moving your panties out of the way and gliding both fingers in between your folds.

His breath got even heavier as yours nearly stopped completely. "joder mami.." he muttered at the warm wetness coating his fingers. He circled your clit and then slid back towards your entrance, pushing slightly into you, repeating the motion with a featherlight touch. Your moans were getting quiet, reduced to quick sharp breaths and little whimpers. Brows pinched and eyes slammed shut. It was pure ecstasy delivered in the softest and tenderest of manners. "Breathe mami… I'll take care of you. You are so beautiful like this" he whispered and kissed you again, wanting to capture your pleasure with his mouth.

This is what you wanted all along, to have no choice in the matter. To be seduced so completely that your ability to resist would disappear altogether. This must absolve you of some responsibility.

The rolling thunder did not seem to distract you from each other, no honking car, no impending doom would make your mouths detach. You have allowed yourself to indulge in this, moral compass tossed into the nearest bin.

His thick fingers slid inside of you, and every time he pulled them out just to push them back in, his palm rubbed gently against your clit, covering his hand with your arousal. You moaned into Jake's mouth, louder this time, as you felt the coil tighten in your core.

"Tell me hermosa.." he rasped between soft kisses and licks,"Do you think of me when you touch yourself?"

"Hhm, yes.." you replied, stating the obvious.

"And do you think of me when you fuck your husband..?" Your heart raced at the question, it shouldn't have turned you on even more, make you even wetter, but it did. "Be honest, querida, it's ok" his voice was supposed to feel reassuring, but it was laced with coercion, luring and tempting your shameful truth out of you.

"Yes" you whispered, your voice barely came out as a pathetic whimper.

“Mmmm” He purred at your response.

The thunder roared again, and little droplets of rain began falling.

"We're not getting in until you cum, cariño" He said playfully. You hated the rain, you hated yourself, but you would hate it more if he'd stopped.

Your senses lit on fire as the pleasure in your belly was tightening. You felt the drops cold against your hot skin, the weight of Jake's body on yours, the gentle slide of his fingers, heard the sound of your kisses, moans, and heavy breaths, his smell and taste were intoxicating you.

It all accumulated, building up higher and higher, until you finally felt your pleasure spill over the edge. Wave after wave washed over you. You dug your nails into his shoulders, holding on for dear life, groaning into the crook of his neck. "así, mami, así" he said softly as you clenched around his fingers, pulling you gently down from your high.

You both stood there for a moment, eyes shut, breathing each other's air heavily.

The rain intensified, beginning to soak into your hair and clothes, convincing you both to finally get into the cab.

When you got in, the sounds of the street and the rain dissipated, it was so quiet all of a sudden, all you could hear was each other's breath. Your orgazm was still buzzing faintly through your body, but the guilt was slowly creeping up your back.

You found yourself scrambling for something that would make you stop, but came up with nothing. What would be worse? Betraying the trust of your husband or denying yourself the thing you have been desperately craving for months with every fiber of your being? How strong did you have to be to resist this?

Jake sat next to you, damp curls and white shirt slightly soaked by the rain.

He turned to you and placed his hand in the space between the two of you on the car seat, as if asking for permission all over again "Hermosa, are you sure? I will understand if you want to stop".

Without his cap and with the soft look in his eyes he looked boyish, almost innocent. "You are so handsome" You said, as you brushed away a stray curl from his forehead and laid your hand on top of his, granting said permission silently, still not willing to fully admit to yourself what it is that you're agreeing to. "Please querida, I need to hear that you want this too"

You scooted closer to him, slowly running your hands up his arms and shoulders and began removing his tie. Unwrapping your forbidden present to yourself. "I do. I'm sure. I want this. too much" you said, in a voice closer to a whisper, still trying to keep your 'secret' from him, as if there were any left.

You unbuttoned his shirt, taking your time with each button, until you were able to slide it down his shoulders, the tanned broad panels of his pecs finally at your fingertips. He was beautiful, the contour of him gently illuminated from the dim street lights.

You ran your fingers through his soft curls, pulling him closer for a kiss, your tongues swirled together at a leisurely pace. His hands slid up your legs, under your skirt, pulling your thong down. "Eres tan suave, tan dulce, necesito sentirte cerca.." he rasped as his fingers brushed on your thighs.

"You'll have to translate this one for me" you replied gingerly.

He took your hand, laying it on his clothed cock, painfully hard under his jeans. "Here's a translation for you, querida" he chuckled, groaning softly at the friction. Oh god, of course he's big.

"Aww, is that what it's called in Spanish..?" you chuckled back, rubbing him softly through the fabric.

You made quick work of his belt buckle, unzipping his constricting denim, tugging it along with his briefs down his strong thighs as he lifted his hips slightly.

You finally straddled him, your heat pooling in your core, begging to be filled.

His gaze was fixed on your face as he ran the tip of his cock in between your folds. You bucked your hips at the delicious feeling and began to sink on him slowly, relishing every thick inch, every ridge and vein. "Ah.. fuck, you're a big boy" you managed a breathy whisper. Jake almost whimpered as your warm wetness covered him, sinking all the way into you.

He grabbed your hips, impatient and needy, beginning to slowly grind you on his cock.

It felt amazing. That's the only way you would describe the exquisite fullness between your thighs, his thickness dragging against your walls, gently enticing every ounce of pleasure out of you. You raised yourself slowly, just to sink back again, and again, quickening your pace slightly with every thrust. He nuzzled at your breasts, sucking gently on the flesh he could reach, before grabbing the hem of your top and pulling it up. Your bra quickly followed. Jake latched his mouth on your nipple immediately, sucking hungrily, then pressing your breasts together and lapping his greedy tongue over both nipples. There was pure concentration in his face. His eyes were closed, soft long lashes laying on his sharp cheekbones.

For years you'd retreat to the back of your mind, pull fantasies and memories almost forcefully, that's the only way you could enjoy sex. Now you could barely blink at the sight of him. Broad shoulders and strong arms, sharp jaw, black curls. Just so fucking gorgeous.

Jake sensed your gaze and opened his eyes, staring deeply back while he moved into you. Your orgazm began to approach rapidly, as you tightened around his cock. He planted his feet on the floor, thrusting harder, deeper. He spread your cheeks with his palms, slotting himself deeper still. His eyes darted from your eyes to your lips, to your breasts, before he pulled you into another kiss. You could almost taste your orgazm now, and you began moving faster, chasing it, you closed your eyes out of habit, before forcing yourself to keep them open. You needed to etch as much as you could into your brain. You wanted to capture it all - the sound of his groans, the skin slapping on skin, the smell of sex, the taste of him in your mouth. Every. Tiny. Fucking. Detail. Oh. My. God. Yes! Yesss! Fuck me! Fuck! Fuck! The coil in your core finally snapped, stronger this time, hitting you harder. Jake felt you clench around him and he deepened his thrusts, crashing his hips into yours as you moaned and wailed. No secrets to hide, no shame, you've allowed yourself to fully let go, confessing all of your sins loudly and without reprehension. Warmth spread all over your body, flooding your limbs, as the aftershocks of your climax kept coming. "That sounded so fucking beautiful, querida" Jake groaned. Your hands came up to his face, lacing through his hair, as you began kissing him again softly - on his lips, his cheeks, his forehead…You placed gentle kisses on his closed eyes, every soft kiss thanking him for the pleasure he brought you. Jake's pace began to quicken again, you matched his movements, you could feel him approaching his high, hands gripping your hips with surprising strength, moving you on his cock faster, harder, thrust after thrust after thrust. He groaned as he spilled inside you, neck stretching back, jaw clenched ,sweat beading on his chest. He was every bit as stunning as you imagined him to be.

He collapsed into your chest, heaving from his exertion, thrusting his hips slightly into you, coaxing some final pleasurable little waves of post orgazm out of you.

He looked blissed out, completely content.

You stroked him, gently grazing your nails on his scalp, brushing your fingers on his temple. He purred softly and nuzzled deeper into you. You both knew you had very few last moments to enjoy this, to breathe each other's scent and bask in the tender intimacy of it all, before you'd have to go back to pretending this never even happened. "Thank you" you whispered, kissing the top of his head. You really didn't know what else to say, how to express the mixture of gratitude and guilt you were feeling. Could you promise yourself this was the one and only time? Could you resist him? This? You couldn't tell yourself this was 'nothing' because it didn't feel like 'nothing'. Maybe with time you could convince yourself it was.

"I have to get back home, Jake" you finally said. "I know querida, i know you do."

******

The tension had been building inside of you the whole ride home, and you went back and forth between the possibility that you'll be able to come out of this unscaved and the very plausable outcome of completely ruining your life.

You unlocked the door to your house with a heavy heart, dreading what awaited you on the other side. How would you explain the late hour you came in? Would Jake's scent linger enough to be noticable?

And what if you don't get caught, would you regret this? Surely you'd regret breaking their hearts, betraying their trust, being so selfish with your 'needs' that you didn't even consider another solution. But, would you also regret the scorching hot, charming, gorgeous man that fucked you like that, like you needed him to? And if you regret only some of it, does it count as actual regret? Does it matter?

Your brain was running a mile a minute, perhaps trying to prepare yourself to 'face the music' if you must. The bottom line was that the deed was done. And it was lustful and passionate and every bit as satisfying as you've imagined.

As soon as you stepped in you knew you could breathe a sigh of relief. The glow of the TV was the only thing illuminating the space, and your husband's snores assured you that you were in the clear.

You headed into the shower immediately, relishing in the hot water on your skin. For the first time in months your mind was clear. You could think about your plans for the upcoming days, your chores, missing items on the shopping list, the kind of cake you wanted to bake for your mom's birthday… The lustful beast in you was full, satiated, resting in it's cave at the back of your mind.

Thank you Jake.

**********

Jake

The streets were almost empty, the rain subsided into a drizzle, the wet asphalt shimmered with blurry reflections of the street lights and passing cars.

Jake opened the window and lit up a smoke, he enjoyed the cool air that smelled like rain, it blended with your smell on his fingers.

"Do you think of me when you fuck your husband?" He'd ask them.

Most froze, some tried to avoid the question, some would say "no, because I don't fuck him anymore". Hearing an honest answer like yours was rare. Your precious little "yes"... your voice barely whispered it, but it was enough for Jake.

You were special. Something about the guilt written on your face made it more exhilarating for him. You never did manage to hide anything, every emotion was visible, clear for him to see. Your reaction to his smell, to his voice, your clumsy and adorable attempts at flirting, it was all so endearing. You were always so sweet, so responsive when he finally touched you the way he wanted to.

He'd tell himself that he is actually helping. Every woman wants to feel seen and desired, every woman deserves pleasure. He was just happy to oblige, to offer himself up. He did have a type though, and they all had one thing in common - a husband. Some husbands were doing a fine job, but some were not. Dormant in their lives, maybe cheating, maybe just tired.

He would never insist if he saw that the other side simply wasn't interested, but more often than not they were. And there was nothing quite like breaking through the initial apprehension, to reach the bleeding core of someone who needed this just as badly as he did. And boy did you need it. You were starved and he had the pleasure of feeding you.

He apologized for his advances because he knew that you needed to think that he was as conflicted as you were. But he wasn't, he wasn't sorry either.

How could he be when you moaned like that, clenching on his cock, digging your nails into his skin..?

Fin.

#jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x fem!reader #oscar isaac #moonknight

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vanoincidence · 6 months

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Breaking & Entering || Van & Mateo

TIMING: current. LOCATION: downtown. PARTIES: @fearhims3lf & @vanoincidence SUMMARY: mateo helps get van the book she needs with a friendly bit of breaking and entering. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

Van pulled her hood up over her ears, bracing herself against the wind as it tunneled down the alley that she was taking a shortcut through to get to the comic shop. There were a couple of graphic novels she was interested in, and she had enough to even get Nora a gift.

“It is,” Van hummed out, “so cold!” She tried the door once arriving at the shop, devastated to be met with the large CLOSED sign. Pulling out her phone, she checked the hours, and sure enough, she had mistaken the day. “Are you serious?” A low pitched whine left her as she tilted her head back. The urge to stomp her foot won, and Van’s tantrum began. Not so powerful that anything happened, but it clearly caught an onlooker’s attention. Their voice sprung forth and Van was turning around, surprised by the company. In response, an overhead street light fizzled out. She wasn’t sure if that was her, or because this town refused to check its lights. She’d pretend it was the former. “They’re closed.” The sadness in her tone was apparent as she peeled herself away from the door, crossing her arms over her chest.

Mateo drummed his fingers on the armrest of the bench, talking up a man, a stranger he was hoping to get a meal from. Her daydreaming had a nice taste, but he was looking for something bigger than a snack. The man was picking up what Mateo was putting down, nearly enough to constitute an appropriate touch to the shoulder. Another minute or two, and it would go unnoticed, but the mare wasn’t going to get that chance.

A noise interrupted the conversation, a young woman throwing what seemed to be a tantrum by a store that had all signs of being closed. Mateo chuckled, barking out an amused tease as he hopped over the back of the bench, only to stop in his tracks for a beat when the light sparked and shattered. That was when the man he was flirting with booked it, leaving the mare hungry and irritated enough to offer anything but a helpful hand.

“There is a lack of lights, and I think the door is locked, so yeah, closed.” He nodded, biting his lip to restrain a laugh at the defeat dripping from the girl’s voice. He wanted to see how good the laugh could really be, because, come on. You don’t just ruin a meal, even if you don’t know someone’s eating.“The shop is always closed this day. Ain’t that what google is for or something? You know, checking the hours before you head out?”

Van’s brows furrowed as she ticked off the days on her right hand. “I forgot what day it was. I know how to use google… among other things.” She tightened her jacket around her frame and peered inside, willing the lights to turn on and for the clerk to open the door, but that didn’t happen, because of course it didn’t.

“There are a lot of hours that a lot of stores have, and sometimes I forget them all. I’m not like, some filer of store hours or whatever.” Van knew that she could have easily googled to avoid all of this, but it wasn’t that big of a deal– she wouldn’t let it be that big of a deal. The old Van might have a meltdown over her self-imposed stupidity, but this Van with the magical powers and whose best friend was a bear? She wouldn’t do that! She refused!

She took a deep, steadying breath before fully looking over her company. “Your tattoos are cool.” Van could make out a few of the ones that ran up his neck. “How badly did that hurt?” She touched the spot on her navel where she’d been stabbed by Debbie. “Is it like being stabbed or something? Or just a ton of little stabs?”

Okay, the girl talked a little too much, and while it wasn’t horrible to be asked questions about himself, Mateo was still a little annoyed about missing out on a meal. Tapping his foot on the concrete, the mare contemplated whether or not to answer. He decided to anyway. “Uh…” He arched a brow and pocketed his hands into his vest. “None of them really hurt. Ever been scratched by a cat?” He shrugged, “Kinda like that, but over and over again.” But the throat tattoo definitely hurt more than the others, and Mateo’s stomach one did too. He’d never shook during a session before, and it was hopefully that last time he did.

“Wait.” Mateo shook the distracting thoughts away, and refocused on the fact that the store was closed. Could cause a little chaos and break in, he supposed, but it was also a locally owned store, so breaking anything was out of the question for him. If it was a big brand, sure, Mateo loved destroying shit, but small businesses needed to stay around and be taken care of. “Hm…” Tapping his chin, he looked at the perimeter and assessed what they could do. Most businesses had alarms, but Mateo figured if he could jump in without being seen by Ms. Talks Too Much, he could get them both in, leave money, and take whatever the girl wanted.

“You got cash on you? ‘Cause, uh…we could go in. You just gotta know how to work around a lock or two.”

“I’ve never had a pet, and I’ve only like, picked up one cat, but it didn’t scratch me.” She’d been hurt by other things, but never an animal– not that she could remember, at least. She tried to imagine what that might feel like, but fell short. Van narrowed her eyes at him, getting a better look at the tattoos that extended over the entirety of his upper body. They did look cool. Maybe she should go antagonize a cat to see if she could withstand it, and then finally go get that tattoo with Cass.

“You want to break in?” Van’s eyes grew wide and she glanced towards the door before shaking her head. “I don’t– I don’t think that’s like, a great idea.” She crossed her arms over her chest, pulling her coat tightly in on herself.

“I think that’s a really bad idea, ‘cause what happens if we get caught? Do I look like I’m built for jail?” It wouldn’t have been the worst thing she’d ever done– she’d killed at least three people, and one of those bodies was rotting not too far from here. “Do you like, break into places a lot?” She didn’t want to assume anything about anyone, but he was offering to help her get inside. “Or do you like, secretly work here and you want to see if I’d do it just so you could get me into trouble?” Van’s imagination was running wild now as she stood across from him.

“Yeah, I wanna break in.” Mateo shrugged, not seeing what the big deal was. While breaking into places was against the law, it wasn’t as if the two were going to trash the place, or steal. They were just shopping after hours. “Look, you’re just annoying enough to get beat up only two times. You’ll be fine though because I’m not gonna get caught.” Emphasis on him. There was no way he’d go down with someone he hardly knew. Although, the idea of teabagging a cop, even for someone annoying, seemed like a lot of fun. He chuckled, patting his vest pockets until he found what he was looking for.

“It’s simple—and yes, I break into places a lot, but your prank idea does seem like fun.” Ignoring any further protests, the mare turned to the door and began to work. “I’ll have to try that at my shop.” With a snicker, Mateo took out his lockpicking kit and finagled with it until he found the proper pick, inserting it and jiggling the handle until the lock turned. “See? Simple. Now get your damn cash ready and look for your shit while I check for an alarm. For all we know, it’s silent.” He walked as he spoke, making a beeline for a device on a wall in hopes that it was a security system. It was a bust as soon as he saw it was a thermostat. Ugh. He kept looking.

“What kinda comics or graphic novels are you looking for anyway?”

“Only two times?!” Van pointed at herself with her thumb, an incredulous expression peeling over her features. “I was bullied like, a lot in school, okay? I’m almost positive it’d be more than just twice.” It was a made up scenario, obviously, and she wasn’t sure why she was putting that much thought into it. It seemed silly, all things considered– if she hadn’t been caught for her crimes up until now, what was the chance of her getting caught breaking into a store? Her anxiety numbed her tongue and she pressed it against the roof of her mouth, surveying their surroundings.

She wasn’t sure what was fun about lying to somebody. She’d broken into places before, but mostly places that deserved it. Van didn’t think that small businesses really deserved to have their locks picked, or windows smashed. Her eyes grew wide as he began to work on the lock and she shot a glance over her shoulder, rushing to hover over his shoulder as if to block him from view of anybody who might pass by. “Dude–” The door sprang open and Van froze, gaze swiveling over the inventory inside. She saw exactly what she needed– it was a copy of Nimona that she’d wanted to get for Nora, since she reminded her of her friend. “Hey!” Before she could yank him back, he was walking into the building. “What about cameras?!” Van hissed, pausing in the door for a moment before she finally found an ounce of courage to pass the threshold.

“That.” She pointed towards the graphic novel on the display labeled monsters. She didn’t think Nimona was a monster. It was obvious that the shopkeeper had totally misunderstood the story. “It’s for a friend,” Van mumbled under her breath as she walked up to the display, running her fingers over the cover before grabbing it. “Are you sure there aren’t like, cameras and stuff? The last time I broke in anywhere–” She paused, eyebrows furrowing, “forget I said that.” It wasn’t like he’d judge her– just look at him, he was a pro! “Um, but if like, this ever gets investigated, please don’t rat me out. I don’t really think I have a lot to live for, but like, not being in a jail cell sounds suuu-per cool to me, you know?” She unfurled a few bills to cover the cost of the tip, as well as a wad of apology ones for breaking in. There went her red bull and slim jim fund.

“Okay, I’ve got it– can we just like, leave?!”

Curiosity arched Mateo’s brows and his interest was piqued when he caught sight of the art style on the cover. “Ni…mona?” There was another copy where Van pulled from, and he quickly snatched it up to read the summary in the back. Nemeses! Dragons! Science! Symbolism! It made Mateo chuckle, and feel something he hadn’t felt in a while. Not since he was a teenager looking at similar graphic novels and comics in a store not unlike the one the two were rummaging through. The part about proving the bad guys are actually portraying themselves to be heroes at the Institute of Law Enforcement wasn’t a bad concept either. Pretty punk if you asked him.

“Huh…?” Right. Cameras. In all the excitement, Mateo forgot to consider those in their tiny heist. He’d get to those momentarily. After he’d found a pen, a piece of paper, and his wallet. “I’ll get to that in a sec. Getting one of these for myself. This book don’t seem bad at all.” Still looking at the cover, Mateo went to the cash register and sifted around the shelves until he found what he was looking for. With a smile, he circled back around to the tidbit Van wanted him to forget as he wrote down what they were taking.

“So this ain’t your first rodeo, huh? Dope shit, fam. Even if it’s not as funny now. People panicking is hilarious—wait, what?” Mateo halted his scribbling quickly on the paper, and he tutted with a grimace at the idea of being a snitch. “Nah, chica. Even if we did get caught and they tried to turn us on each other, I don’t rat. Not even on strangers.” Finishing the last title on the list, Mateo slapped the pen and some money down onto the counter. “‘Cause fuck cops, man. That’s what this book is about, yeah?” He tapped on the title, Nimona, with a smile, excited to get home and read it.

All they had to do was snag any video coverage and vamoose, but, of course, there had to be a problem. Before Mateo could open a door to a back room, he heard the all too familiar click of a flashlight and the words, “Put your hands up!”

Well, at least something good could’ve come out of this! Van had gotten another person to read Nimona! She waited impatiently by his side, book pressed against her chest as she looked around them. “What do you mean you’ll get to it?” She was acting fairly distraught for somebody who’d broken into places before and killed somebody inside one of them. Then again, this was different; this was a place she respected, and there were no dangers. At least, not that she could see.

Suddenly feeling self conscious about the entire situation for reasons that didn’t quite make sense, Van cleared her throat. “Um, thank you. I don’t rat either. Narcs are losers, and like, I might be a loser in other senses of the word, I’m definitely not a narc or whatever.” Her voice softened as she relaxed. This was strange– to break in somewhere with somebody she didn’t know, all for the sake of obtaining graphic novels. She still felt a little bad, but they were leaving money behind, weren’t they? That wasn’t bad! They were paying their dues. It was their fault for closing early, Van rationalized.

Van’s expression brightened slightly at his words, “yeah! I mean, yeah, it’s about a lot of other things, too– and there’s a show which is also really good! But it’s a little different, but still definitely good.” She gave him a smile that, if he really looked at her, he would notice how nauseous she looked.

Everything fell apart though, as it always did. The sound of footsteps, a flashlight glaring angrily at her feet, creating distorted silhouettes out of the two of them against the shadow-y backdrop of the room they were moving toward. Van whirled around, Nimona falling to her feet as she raised her hands above her head. She couldn’t see their face due to the bright light, but figured that it was probably a cop, or best case– a mall cop.

“Um! We left– there is money on the counter!” Van was a leaky faucet of anxiety as she stared wide-eyed at the man behind the flashlight. That anxiety, of course, transformed into something else. The ground beneath his feet melted, sending him falling onto his ass. The flashlight rolled away from him and Van dipped down to grab the book before heading towards her accomplice. “We have to go,” Van hissed. She knew that it was only a matter of time before the man got to his feet, and they needed to be gone before that. “Ah– wait– the cameras!”

“A show?” He made a mental note to look it up once he was home. Nimona’s story sounded like it followed a punk little guy that Mateo would enjoy reading about, and if they made a whole show about it, it had to be good. For a moment, he wondered if it went live action or animated, his thoughts circling back to Xóchitl and her desire to find new animated things to watch. Something about a friend that enjoyed the colors and such. He shrugged, dropping that train of thought to refocus on the lone cop interrupting their rather victimless heist. They didn’t even break the door!

Eh…whatever. Mateo wasn’t worried. At least, not at first. “Did his…what the fuck just melted?” What used to be solid ground became a large puddle that sent the cop careening to the ground. Not even the shock from both being caught and seeing what looked to be a puddle appear could keep Mateo from laughing, though. Was she different, too? Had she caused that? Whatever the case, it was amazing and hilarious, and it also meant that he didn’t have to worry about disappearing at the blink of an eye. What an amazing night. Mateo wasn’t so mad at losing out on a meal now.

“This is great shit.” He chortled for a few beats, and the cop grumbled as he continued to fumble around like he was on a slip ‘n slide. Mateo laughed more, almost crying at the entertainment. He was only able to catch what Van said once the urgency of the situation caught up to him again, and even then, he was snickering as he shooed Van away.

“Go on, get!” He commanded with his most playful southern accent, blipping away to the back room he had his eye before they were interrupted. From there, all that could be heard was a muffled, “I got everything covered!” While Mateo found the computer with coverage of the whole store on the monitor. He hoped Van actually listened and beat it, but there wasn’t much he could do while he was preoccupied pausing the cameras, and deleting the last few minutes from the cloud.

Her accomplice was amused, not scared by the way things had gone. That was new. This was a little bit like Nora, Van thought. Was he a bugbear, too? She tried to imagine the bear form he might have, but her mind snapped back to the present as she turned back to look at him– only he was gone? How was that possible? He’d been standing right in front of her a moment ago, and now he was…

The cop was still struggling to get to his feet and Van wasted no time in skirting around the puddle she’d created, craning her neck so that she could turn her face away from him. God forbid he have photographic memory or whatever.

She wasn’t sure where her company had gone, but something told her to get the hell out of there before this guy’s backup showed up. She could hear his radio crackle as she pushed through the door, taking off down the street, Nimona pressed to her chest. This was one hell of a gift for Nora.

#para: breaking & entering #para: mateo #wickedswriting

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