#refresh match service

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Shipping Out

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader Warnings: Drinking, smoking, public sex, smut. Word count: ~1.5k

Summary: Just trust me on this one, and read all the way to the end.

Author's note: A little birthday treat for @bottlesandbarricades. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

The pub is crowded and noisy, the humidity of the air making her carefully coiffed curls cling to the back of her neck with perspiration. It’s not often that she frequents this side of Manchester, but the change of scenery is a refreshing switch of pace to the monotony of everyday life. Laughter, music and the clinking of glasses is preferable to the whir of the factory sewing machines.

She taps her red lacquered nails against the wood of the bar, wrinkling her nose at the stickiness of the wooden surface beneath her palm. If the frequency with which it’s wiped down is any indication of the attentiveness of the barkeep then she’s in for a long wait for a drink.

Sighing, she fishes her cigarette case from her handbag, flipping it open and plucking one out. No sooner has she placed it between her lips than a hand is clicking a flame to life before the end of it, turning it a glowing cherry red. She casts her gaze upwards through the steady plume of smoke, met by twinkling blue eyes and a cocky smirk, as the chivalrous stranger deposits his lighter back into his trouser pocket and regards her with a tip of his head.

“Thanks,” she says with an easy smile, taking the smoke between her fingers and exhaling a tight line of vapour up towards the ceiling.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies with a wink. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this then?”

God, that’s a terrible line.

She bites back a laugh, and decides to humour him. “Trying to get a drink, service in here is awful though.”

He purses his lips, eyes raking over her from head to toe, before nodding. “Can’t be having that.” Slapping a hand against the bartop, he calls out, “Oi! My lady friend and I are dying of thirst over here! Anyone serving?”

She raises her eyebrows in disbelief, but doesn’t have to wait long until a middle aged, irritated looking woman makes her way around the corner to the pair of them and grumpily takes their order. She’s long since finished her cigarette by the time the glasses are placed heavily down in front of them.

He doesn’t even ask what she wants to drink; she ends up with a gin and tonic, while he has a pint. It’s what she would have ordered anyway, but the bold presumption unsettles her regardless.

Sipping her drink, she relishes in the way the fizzy bitterness envelopes her tongue as she takes in what he’s wearing; navy blue slacks and a matching long sleeved smock, with a white striped collar.

“Shouldn’t you be on a boat somewhere, sailor?”

He grins, setting his glass down on a dog eared beer mat. “Just so happens I’ve been given a night of shore leave. I ship out again tomorrow.”

“Lucky me,” she says with a coy smile.

“If you play your cards right you might be.”

There’s that smirk again. She watches as he takes out a packet of Lucky Strike, perching one between his lips before offering one to her. She gratefully accepts, and he’s quick to light it for her, before doing the same to his own.

Every table is full, but she doesn’t mind, she’s content just to prop up the bar with him, ignoring the ache of her feet as they lapse into effortless conversation. He’s handsome, if a little overeager and she pays rapt attention as he entertains her with stories of his time aboard the HMS Exeter.

She’s on her third gin and tonic of the evening when he leans in to whisper to her.

“So, I might not see another woman for months after tonight. You gonna help me make it one to remember?”

Feeling her cheeks heat up, she giggles softly. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way for you to thank me for my loyal service to our country,” he tells her, taking her hand and leading her out of the pub.

Allowing the gin to fuel her confidence, before she can change her mind, she lets him guide her outside. Even met with the sobering chill of the night air, she offers up no protest when he pulls her into the ginnel, the brickwork biting into her back as he pushes her up against the wall and captures her lips with her.

It’s a messy kiss, moist and desperate with need. He tastes of beer and tobacco as she welcomes his tongue against her own with parted lips, her fingertips sliding over the breadth of his shoulders and up into the cropped softness of his sandy coloured hair.

Pressing tighter against her, he groans appreciatively, mouth moving from hers to travel a path across her jaw and down her neck, as his hands find their way up her skirt. One teases the top of her stocking while the other presses against her clothed core, making her gasp.

His touch is hurried, not as thorough as she’d like, yet she feels a growing stickiness between her thighs regardless. The warmth of his fingers and lips against her makes her feel desired, and she is lightheaded, almost giddy, to see the effect she’s having on him.

Instinctively, she parts her legs wider as he dips beneath her knicker elastic, stroking eagerly through her folds.

“Christ, you’re soaked,” he rasps against the shell of her ear, “bet you’d let me fuck you right here, if I wanted, wouldn’t you?”

She bites her bottom lip, stifling her quiet whimper as his strokes against her cause her to throb. “Please…”

“Since you asked nicely…” He pulls back, blue eyes dark with intent as he makes quick work of unbuckling his belt, lowering his trousers and briefs just enough to free his erection.

Even in the darkness of the alleyway she can see that he’s thick and heavy, and he pumps lazily at himself, while his free hand reaches into his pocket.

“Leave that,” she tells him, as she spots the foil of the sheath wrapper.

He raises an eyebrow, pursing his lips as he stares at her. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” she whispers.

That’s all the confirmation he needs, slipping the packet away and surging forward. He pulls her underwear to the side, grasping the base of himself and pushes forcefully into her in one motion.

The movement knocks all the air from her lungs. Though she is wet, the public nature of their tryst leaves little time for him to prepare her fully, the luxury of time is not on their side, but in their desperation neither one of them cares. It stings, the fullness of him pushing against her, but it’s a pleasurable hurt.

Her breaths leave her mouth in shallow pants as he pistons his hips into her, lifting one of her legs to hook her thigh around his hip. She wraps her arms around his neck, clinging to him as he rocks into her, his forehead pushed up against hers.

“Filthy slut,” he grits out, “bet you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-yeah…” she whines, feeling his fingers press tighter into the meat of her thigh.

His brow furrows, and he grunts, his pace becoming sloppy and erratic. While the ache builds steadily inside of her, she worries he’ll finish before she does. The thought is fleeting, and as though he’s read her mind, the hand not gripping her thigh slips between them, fingers rubbing tight circles against her bud. She clenches around him, the added stimulation serving to intensify the tightening in her lower belly.

“That’s it,” he mutters, “come on.”

He pulsates inside of her, knocking against a spot that makes her tip over the edge suddenly, and she lets out a choked cry, a rolling wave of weightlessness travelling from her head to her toes. Her walls spasm around him and he pushes himself in to the hilt, a groan of relief escaping him as he spills himself inside of her.

They stay like that for a few moments, both catching their breath as their bodies relax. He grins as he pulls back slightly, before leaning in to pepper her face with soft, playful kisses.

“Tommy!” She huffs a laugh, swatting at his shoulder.

He slips out of her, stepping back to tuck himself away and fasten his belt. “Thought we weren’t supposed to be using our names? Part of the fun was pretending we don’t know each other.”

She scoffs, putting her gusset back into place as she feels his spend start to drip out of her, and smooths her skirt back down. “Think you ruined that when you ordered my drink without asking what I wanted. A stranger wouldn’t know I like gin and tonic!”

Tom rolls his eyes and chuckles, offering his arm for her to take. “Right, right. Well, I’ll remember for next time. Whatever you need for me to fulfill your fantasies.”

“Right now, my only fantasy is being at home in bed. That pub is horrible,” she tells him as they begin to walk down the street arm in arm.

“You wanted the uniform. I wasn’t gonna take us somewhere someone we know would see and take the piss.”

She laughs, gripping his arm tighter as she looks up at him. “Was fun though, wasn’t it?”

He gazes down at her with hooded eyes as they continue to walk. “I’ve had worse nights.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 1

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

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

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello, sir, can I get you--”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, it is, so uh--”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look back and forth.

“Apologise,” he demands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[missinconsistent]

The Haikyuu movie is *the* Kenma movie, and I'm living for it. I won't get too into spoilers pertaining to the match, but I will talk about some things in the movie, so if you want to go in blind then stop reading here and go watch the movie!!

I did not expect the movie to explore Kenma and Kuroo's friendship as much as it did, and I love it so much (I didn't read the manga, btw so this was such a surprise). The series already shared quite a lot of flashbacks to their childhood and them playing volleyball together. But, it was always framed in a way that Kuroo kinda dragged Kenma along into playing volleyball with him. I never really expected these childhood flashbacks to mean any more than that. The movie really explored *why* Kenma played volleyball thanks to Kuroo. It really emphasized how important playing volleyball *with* Kuroo meant to him.

Like the scene back to the summer camp when Kenma is thinking he'd rather not play volleyball over playing a video game or watching volleyball, but then Kuroo calls his name and reaches his hand out is just so sweet. Especially considering that Kenma is most likely thinking how this is Kuroo's final year.

I am obsessed with how Kenma's friendly rivalry with Hinata actually parallels his friendship with Kuroo through flashbacks. With Kuroo being the friend that got him to play volleyball, and Hinata being the friend and rival that really pushed Kenma to take a match seriously, and see how fun it can be.

And idk if my take is different, but I really like how Kenma doesn't have a Tsukishima arc. The match doesn't make him fall in love with volleyball, but it just makes him realize that even if he doesn't love the sport, he loves a good and interesting match with his friends. He doesn't care about nationals. He just likes playing against Hinata, in particular (imo). But I think that's what makes the match between them so damn investing.

It's so refreshing to see the movie mostly revolve around Kenma's pov and see this character break out of his shell and push himself. To decode Hinata in an attempt to beat him and have his expectations blown away. Seeing this competitive, smug, and serious side of him is such fan service and I love it lol.

The scene when the match plays out from Kenma's eyes is so (chef's kiss). It's a bit nauseating, but it genuinely is my favourite moment in the movie. The way Kenma's eyes are on the ball before darting across the court, glancing over at his teammates and opponents, and back to the ball again. When it even shows Kenma taking a fall, Lev checking up on him, and Kenma just shouts to focus on the ball, I was just floored with how well it immerses you in the match. It just really has you on the edge of your seat, and quite literally puts you in Kenma's head to know this guy who is seemingly indifferent to volleyball, in that moment, is having the time of his life.

It's such a good climactic moment that's so different from other concluding matches from the series prior. It's not about big final builds up to the final strike, or block, or whatever move the characters are doing. It's just about being in the moment. About Kenma being in the moment. And it's such a brilliant and unique way to end the match.

[saigethearies]

saige’s terrortober presents…

future

seeing how good tetsuro is with kids has you wanting him to put one in you.

camp counselor!tetsuro kuroo x fem!reader

contents/warnings: breeding, unprotected doggystyle, vaginal fingering, kitten and mama petnames, mentions of marriage and babymaking, no pregnancy reader is on birth control, reader and kuroo are in college and work at a camp

wc: 1.4k

18+ MINORS DNI

the crisp fall air felt even more refreshing at night. the changing colors surrounded the camp in pretty hues of orange and red, matching the warm flames crackling away in the middle of the circle. storytimes are firepit were always a hit during the fall season, when the camp operated more as a babysitting service for couples on a date night rather than the usual summer sleepaway. it was honestly nice, allowing you to keep your counselor job into the start of the semester without having to work as many hours so you had time for your coursework.

the convenience wasn’t the only thing you loved, though.

“the group inched closer to the closet, flashlights held tight in their hands as they crept through the dark,” kuroo narrated, voice projecting so every kid listening in could hear.

you smiled at the way your boyfriend had them all on the edge of their seat, everyone’s undivided attention on the rooster head as he told his tale. he knew exactly when to pause for dramatic effect or when to emphasize a certain point. it was honestly impressive how great of a storyteller he was.

“they finally reached the door, turning the knob slowly and opening the door with a loud creak only to find…a report card! full of f’s!”

the kids all laughed, seemingly amused with the funny twist kuroo chose to end his story with. he didn’t want to send the kids back to their homes too scared, now. you chuckled along with them, heart feeling all warm watching the way he interacted with the children.

in your three years of dating, it was not lost on you how naturally amazing kuroo was with kids. he always treated them with the same kindness and respect he would give an adult, and you could see the content smile that would come onto his face whenever a youngster would engage in conversation with him.

not only was it precious, but it was honestly attractive. you were nearing the end of your college years, graduation on the horizon, and he’d already brought up the m word multiple times- not to mention you caught him studying the sizes of your rings that one time. while you told him not to rush anything, you knew he was the one you were going to marry. not only that, but this was the man that would most likely be fathering your children, and every time you saw him bring a smile to a kid’s face, it just reminded you of how amazing of a dad he was going to be.

and that made you want him so much.

knowing that he would take such good care of you and your potential babies drove you up the wall, wishing you could skip to your white picket fence era despite telling him that the two of you were young and didn’t need to be in a hurry.

kuroo caught you staring at him from across the firepit and sent you his signature grin, and you had to resist the urge to press your thighs together, knowing that this wasn’t the place.

the thoughts were still shuffling around in your mind when kuroo drove the two of you back to his apartment later, shift finally over now that all of the children had been picked up by their guardians. visions were dancing across your brain of him gently rocking a little baby, giving piggyback rides to a toddler, teaching a child how to spike a volleyball.

your boyfriend had noticed you were much more quiet than usual but chose not to question it. he figured you would talk once the two of you got home.

the elevator trip once you arrived was silent, and kuroo was starting to worry that there really was something bothering you.

so imagine his surprise when your lips were crashing against his the second he locked his front door, smaller hands gripping his shoulder and pulling him down to your height. his eyes went a little wide in surprise before he closed them and melted into the kiss, never one to look a gift horse in the face.

you pulled away to gasp for air and he grinned, bringing a thumb up to press against your bottom lip.

“what’s gotten into you, kitten?”

nothing could prepare him for what you said next, your eyes glassy and breath labored.

“wanna have a baby with you.”

now wasn’t the time, both of you knew that, and it was mainly just the lust talking at the moment. however, the idea still filled both of you with a sense of excitement and adrenaline. you were on birth control, but a little practice for the real deal in the future couldn’t hurt, right?

you felt his large hands snake under your t-shirt, forehead coming to rest against yours.

“is that right? my pretty girl wants to become a mommy?”

you nodded. “wanna make you a daddy.”

he hummed at that, beginning to kiss you once more as he backed you towards his bedroom, tugging both of your shirts off in the process. each of you were shedding your clothes, nude as can be by the time you reached the bed.

kuroo gave you one final kiss before commanding you to get on the bed.

“all fours.”

you did as you were told, keeping your ass towards him and arching the way he liked. you heard him step towards you and almost cried when you felt his fingers teasing at your entrance.

he slowly pumped his index and middle in and out of you, amazed at how wet your cunt already was. how long had you been wanting this?

not in the mood to waste time, you craned your neck to look at him, a desperate look in your eyes.

“inside, tetsu! want you inside now!”

he normally would refuse, insisting on prepping you. but tonight you had asked for a baby. you asked for a baby as if you knew about the endless dreams and fantasies in his head of you with a sweet little bump on your belly.

he’d give into your plea to forego foreplay tonight, but only this once. only because you managed to hit him where it really hurts.

the moan that tore from your throat as he split you open was the neediest he’d ever heard, and he wasted no time in starting to cant his hips as deep as possible. you were mewling, trying to push back to meet his thrusts each time, the want to be filed fogging your mind.

“so good! so good!”

you felt his hand between your shoulder blades, pressing down to arch your back even more. he groaned as he started to hit even further down in your walls, as if he was trying to get as close to your cervix as he could.

“good girl, such a good fucking girl for me.”

he didn’t think he’d ever felt your pussy grip him this tight. you were going to milk him for everything he was worth, and he honestly couldn’t wait.

you felt him lean over you, his chest against your back as his hot breath fanned against your ear.

“gonna be the prettiest mama ever. can’t wait to see how beautiful you look carrying my baby.”

you whined at his words.

“baby! want your baby, tetsu! want it so bad!”

“fuck.”

your cries had him pistoning into you even faster, so ready to give into your pleas and grant you your wish. maybe not today, but someday.

the coil in his stomach had grown so taught, and from the way your thighs were shaking, he knew yours had, too. he brought his thumb to your clit, knowing it would be the last shove you needed to tumble over the edge with him.

“where do you want it, kitten?”

he already knew the answer.

“inside! inside inside inside, please!”

one last rub at your sensitive nub had the wave of pleasure crashing over you, your orgasm sending kuroo into his own as he spilled his cum deep into your cunt. you’d never felt so full in your life.

you slumped against the bed, boneless. you heard kuroo chuckle behind you and felt a kiss pressed to the crown of your head.

“come on, mama,” kuroo said. “don’t go tapping out on me just yet.”

____

saige’s terrortober masterlist

[soloroomies]

lifemate (Chapter 2/ Sakusa x f!reader)

summary: the continuation of your previous discussion word count. 1.3k cw. marriage pact au a/n. hey! so this is a quick update for the chapter 2! We're getting to the main plot ˙˚ʚ(´◡`)ɞ˚˙

Masterlist

Weeks have passed since your last meet-up with Komori and Kiyoomi. Life gets hectic, and you find yourself drowning in work. You pride yourself on being an independent woman, but there are moments when you wish you could take an easier route. Being a sugar baby sounds good. That kind of sugar baby service is still considered independent woman work, though? Like, you earn your own money by doing something, right? You can’t help but laugh at the thought.

After completing a particularly demanding deadline task, you decide it's time to take a break and refresh yourself with a cup of coffee. It is a good opportunity to stretch your legs and clear your mind. You choose to walk to one of your favorite cafes in town, conveniently close to your apartment, and a perfect spot to unwind.

Ordering your usual latte and grabbing a croissant as a delightful companion to your coffee, you settle down at a table near the window. Deciding to stay a while in the cafe because the weather is nice and you don’t want to go back to your apartment just yet. It still reminds you too much about the complicated task you just finished.

As you sit there, contemplating whether to check your phone or simply enjoy the view outside, the doorbell chimed, signaling the arrival of a new customer. You glance up and see a familiar figure entering the cafe. It is Kiyoomi, sporting a black hoodie and khaki shorts. Despite the mask covering his face, you recognize his distinctive build, curly hair, and the moles on his forehead. Initially, you think he might not notice you, but his eyes soon lock onto yours. Surprised yet delighted by the unexpected encounter, you wave enthusiastically, prompting a wave back from Kiyoomi as he proceeds to order his food at the counter.

With your latte and croissant now in hand, you begin to sip and savor your treat, basking in the calm ambiance of the cafe. Moments later, Sakusa walks over and takes a seat next to you. "Hey! What brings you here?" you ask, curious about his sudden appearance.

Removing his mask and adjusting his hair, Sakusa replies, "I'm just checking something at that sportswear shop and decide to drop by here for a bit. I like the coffee here."

You nod in understanding, recalling that you recommended that particular sportswear shop to him years ago. It seems that the shop has become his go-to place for his sportswear needs.

It is still noon on a Saturday, and despite the casual atmosphere, he looks as though he has just finished practice. His hair is still a bit damp from a shower, and he carries a fresh, clean scent—something masculine with hints of woody and musky notes.

“Did you just finish your practice?” you ask Sakusa.

“Yes. We have some practice matches coming up soon. What about you? What brings you here?” he replies.

“I just wrapped up some tasks and needed a break to refresh a bit,” you respond.

As Sakusa's order arrives, the two of you chat about your current side jobs and his upcoming matches. Suddenly, he confides, “My parents ask me again to introduce a girl to them.”

You stare at him for a moment. This is a topic that has been brought up before by Komori. Komori used to say that Sakusa’s parents are pretty hopeful about his future relationship, hoping that their son would have his own family. You can’t really blame his parents. They are like your parents, a traditional generation that values marriage. They are scared their child will end up unloved, alone, and unhappy if they don’t get married.

Sakusa never tells you this before, so you’re quite surprised by his confession now.

“Welp, it’s about time for us, right? To get those kinds of questions from the parents,” you sigh. Sakusa nods.

You continue, “It’s kinda crazy, and I don’t know whether our age is classified as old or not. I’m not in a rush or anything. Even though it’s a different case for my parents.”

Your parents are not too harsh about it, but there’s a bit of prodding here and there. You want to build your own family someday. Really. It just seems impossible right now. If you want to be ready and have a real connection with someone before getting married, it might take a few years for even yourself to be ready. And how long will it take for the relationship to be ready for marriage? You don’t really know. The chance for it succeeding isn’t even a hundred percent.

Suddenly, you’re reminded again of your discussions a few weeks ago with Sakusa and Komori. This parents stuff adds a plus point to your list of reasons why being married might be really convenient for you.

You turn to Sakusa and see a slight frown on his face. “What do you think about the marriage pact stuff we talked about the other day with Mori?” he asks tentatively. Your eyes widen, kinda surprised that he thinks about that discussion too.

“I– I’m not– I honestly don’t think that’s a bad idea…” you answer nervously, looking down at your food. You see Sakusa in the corner of your eye turn his head in your direction.

“But,” you add, “I don’t want to hinder you from meeting someone who could be your true love, your ‘one,’ you know? Do you understand what I mean?”

“I don’t really get the idea of the one. And the same thing goes for you. I don’t want to hinder you as well,” he answers.

“No, Omi. It’s different. It’s like…” you clear your throat. “You have way better chances than me to meet any girl you want. You have this wide social reach. It’s a different circumstance for me. Yes, I go to the office and stuff. But office romances just never work for me. And I work a lot at home too.”

“Hey, you said about wide reach and everything like you don’t know me.” Sakusa stares intently at you. You’re silent for a moment. Of course, you forgot the important details about him. You know better that he’s not that easy-going of a person. But still…

"Okay, how about this. We'll see in two years," you suggest, trying to keep your tone light yet sincere.

Sakusa looks at you with a hint of confusion. "What?"

"Let’s make this pact. This marriage pact or whatever. If in two years we haven’t met anyone, then… let's just get married?"

His eyes widen slightly, then he nods. "Deal. I’ll remember this."

"Okay."

To your surprise, Sakusa takes out his phone and starts tapping away.

"What are you doing?" you ask, curiosity piqued.

"Making a reminder," Sakusa replies nonchalantly.

"Of this, of course." You peek at his phone and see that he sets the reminder exactly on New Year's Day, two years away.

"Wow. New Year? Why?"

"Yeah. So that we can arrange and organize everything at the beginning of the year. I hope that if we get married, it will be done before the volleyball season."

You raise your eyebrows, realizing how serious he is about this. Shit. This is getting serious.

"You know, if we get married… it’s okay if you don’t want to work anymore," Sakusa states casually.

Your mouth falls open in surprise. "Omi! Please, I don’t want to burden you like that. And I seriously never expect something like that from you."

"Hey, it’s okay. I mean, you can do anything you like. You can just have your main job or even just your side job or whatever." You stare at him incredulously. What started as a light conversation about the convenience of marriage, to split the rent with someone, now has the possibility to actually happen. What the actual fuck?

[stardust-swan]

What Is It Like in a *Posh* Moroccan Hammam? 🫧

When I say "posh," I mean upmarket hammams in a wealthy residential areas, not hammams in hotels. This post is about authentic hammams used by wealthy Moroccans, not ones aimed at tourists.

Decor

One of the first things you'll notice in upmarket hammams is that the decor is far more elaborate than in basic hammams. Decor will of course vary from place to place, but to use the example of the hammam next to my great-aunt's place in Casablanca I always make sure to go to:

The walls in both the main washroom and the sauna room are made out of blue and white marble in a traditional zellige pattern. There are also ornate sinks jutting out of the walls also of blue and white marble, whereas in basic hammams there will just be faucets. The sauna has long benches made of marble across the length of each side of the room, and the massage tables are slabs of heated light grey marble.

Regardless of the individual decor choices of each hammam, each building will always be spacious, with high ceilings and curved arches.

Ambience

Upmarket hammams feel luxurious, but understated, focusing on relaxation and subtle elegance rather than opulence and "wowing" people.

The lighting will normally be natural, but if artificial lighting is used it will be subtle and non-intrusive. Whereas in basic hammams it will be bright and practical, and in tourist hammams it will be dim with lighting coming from lanterns and candles (ambient, but not practical for visibility).

Although some may have private areas, authentic hammams in wealthy areas will generally follow the tradition of communal bathing.

As they are located in residential areas rather than tourist hotspots, and as they are a lot larger than basic hammams, they don't feel overcrowded and the experience is more intimate.

Services Offered

Upmarket hammams offer more services than basic hammams, but unlike tourist hammams, all the services are based in authentic Moroccan traditions, whereas in hotels the hammams offer a blend of the basic Moroccan services (sauna, sabon beldi, etc) and services similar to what you'd find in Western spas.

Authentic services you will find in upmarket Moroccan hammams include:

The usual sauna, cleansing with sabon beldi, deep exfoliation and ghassoul clay masks you'll find in every hammam in the country

Massages with argan oil, ghassoul clay, jasmine oil, amber oil, olive oil, honey, or herbal compresses

Herbal steam baths with tabrima, eucalyptus, lavender or mint

Rosewater and orange blossom water rinses

Henna treatments (it's not just used for temporary tattoos but has benefits for the skin and hair)

Facials with products like argan oil, sweet almond oil, honey, and saffron

Foot baths with herbs, oils, and/or milk

(Services will depend on each individual hammam)

The treatments are all high quality by staff who really work for their money. The attendants will scrub off absolutely every bit of dead skin on your body, and I have honestly never been as thoroughly massaged as I have been in these hammams.

Relaxation Lounge

In basic hammams, you just put your clothes on and leave after adjusting to room temperature, but in upmarket ones, you relax in the hammam after towelling off.

After you're dressed, the staff will lead you to another room. To use the hammam local to my great aunt as an example again, the relaxation lounge in this one:

Is full of white chaise longues, one facing another so that you can chat with your companion. They each have a low table in between them, on which a staff member will put down a silver tray, which will have a lit candle which will also have ghassoul clay integrated into it. There will also be glycerin preserved rose petals scattered on the tray, and of course refreshments - a bottle of cold water (much needed after all the heat and steam) and refreshing peppermint tea in a floral cup and matching saucer.

In other upmarket hammams they might have leather couches or armchairs instead of chaise loungues, regular candles without the clay, and Moroccan mint tea instead of peppermint herbal tea, but they'll all follow the same format.

Would I Recommend Trying One of These Hammams?

If you want a luxurious but 100% authentic hammam experience, absolutely! Although hotel hammams are surely fun with their swimming pools, etc, if you want to really experience true Moroccan culture and feel classy while you do it, I'd recommend finding one in a middle or upper class residential area.

They're also inexpensive if you're on Western wages - the one I described in the post is €4 for entry and €15 for a massage, and pretty much all similar hammams will be in that general wheelhouse. Whereas I have no doubt that the ones in hotels are way more expensive - the tourist price vs the local price.

Tips For Going to Authentic Hammams

Whereas in hotels the staff will speak multiple languages, in ones the locals use usually they'll know just Darija and French, maybe basic English but there's no guarantee. If you know French it will be fine, but if not get a Moroccan friend to accompany you.

Shave before going. The attendants will only exfoliate you if your skin is hairless, as the kessa glove can more effectively remove dead skin and impurities without hair in the way, and with smooth skin there's no chance of the rough gloves tugging on your hair and causing your skin to become irritated. The subsequent skincare products applied to your body will also be easier to apply evenly and will be better absorbed. If you haven't shaved beforehand they'll just give you a razor.

You can buy toiletries like soaps and towels, but it's also acceptable to bring your own.

Don't be afraid to get naked. Moroccan women strip down to their panties. Nobody will look at you, everyone is concentrating on bathing (wearing your bra or swimsuit is honestly more likely to bring attention to you than going topless as that's how people will know you're a tourist). You'll see many different body types and all ages in the hammam, so don't worry about being judged if you have stretch marks, extra weight, etc

Men and women bathe in separate areas or buildings, so don't worry about the opposite sex seeing you. You might occasionally see a mother taking her young son with her (as in, toddler age), but never older boys and men.

You can talk and laugh, but don't shout or giggle loudly or anything. It's meant to be a relaxing experience for everyone, and as the rooms are so spacious, loud noises will carry across them.

The massages are really thorough, so be prepared. I've been massaged everywhere from the insides of my ears to my privates in these hammams. If you have anywhere you'd rather they don't touch, communicate it with the massage therapist before getting your massage done, as the norm is to massage literally everywhere.

[blueaetherr]

half-life

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader [she/her]

warning(s): angst, gotg3 reference (?)

summary: the one where we witness jude and y/n's love for one another falter over time and its aftermath

now reading: the sun is also a star by nicola yoon

in love, [half-life] is the time it takes for lovers to feel half of what they once did

Somewhere in the flower field, a setting graceful and niche in presentation, a space that ran for miles and miles with shades and styles in every foot and inch—somewhere in all of that, there was Jude and Y/N.

They were simply lost in the mass of everything, of all there was around them. Lost in their shared thoughts and reality, lost in the company one was able to give the other. 'Cause even though they were surrounded by such vibrant colours, wildflowers galore and nature itself, they instead chose to focus their sight on each other.

"For you," Jude said after he had crafted a flower crown as he held it out to his partner.

Tilting her head, her lips welcomed a grateful smile. Y/N took the delicate creation with care and support. Y/N observed it as she spun it between her fingers. "Thank you, but you didn't have to."

"I didn't but I wanted to." His words were spoken as if his intentions had been so evident.

"Alright, alright," she let out a breezy laugh, matching the evening winds. Soft and mild. Considering Jude's love languages were a mixture of giving gifts and acts of service, she shouldn't have been surprised. Suddenly, she frowned. "I didn't make anything for you though."

His eyes wandered their greenery surroundings before suggesting, "Pick something from the grass at random for me."

"Okay, let's see..." Inhaling a small breath Y/N reached her hand into the grass and when her hand came up, there was a four-leaf clover in her grasp. Her mouth fell open as a few laughs escaped. "Shit then. My gift to you: good luck."

"I mean this is amazing," Jude chuckled as he accepted the clover. Then he shrugged, "But I think good luck has already come my way." It was only uncomplicated words he spoke yet it had Y/N flustered and shying away from her partner's gaze all while grinning wide—happy, and that in itself by default made him happy too.

12 months into the relationship and this was the couple at their peak.

The two, and the relationship itself, were one's favourite love song, the living proof of true and ideal love and stood tall and proud with the foundation of love at first sight. They were feared by heartbreak, refreshing love cliches and in essence simply beautiful and inspiring and wonderful. That was Jude and Y/N. 

Taking adoring pictures, pronouncing corny yet adoring words to one another, sharing their looks of affection when the other wasn't aware—this was them at their personal best and from there, they could only falter and fumble after that.

They were 18 months in when the cracks in the relationship began to appear in their eyes. In the privacy of their home, between their family and friends, in their messages. It was slow and steady yet they were for sure drifting, and drifting, drifting away from one another. It was subtle at first, like when their schedules began to not match up so they couldn't see one another that much, or getting in and out of bed at different times so they spent less time together. 

But they were okay with that; it was an irregularity they were bound to face in their relationship. And there were a plethora of ways to manoeuvre around their problems, like talking on the phone or messaging when space was between them or when they weren't in arms' reach of one another.

But then the messages calmed down and calls were being missed, going to voicemail until they were eventually declined by the receiver. The explicit messages were the first ones to go, and they continued to fall flat until only essential calls were left between Jude and Y/N. And even when the two individuals were in arms reach of each other, when they were under the same roof at the same time, when they could share close and personal dialogue—they chose not to.

And like the calls and the messages, their conversations let up over time. Everything began to diminish in quality and quantity: conversations, bedroom interactions, movie nights, inside jokes, shared dinners and breakfasts in bed. They never noticed, they never had the chance to really, but they unknowingly slipped below the status of both a couple and roommates all at once so quickly.

They were 21 months in when the cracks grew more and more prominent and public. Y/N attended fewer games while Jude attended fewer work parties. Fewer dedication posts, fewer sighted outings together. The pair—as individuals—began to barely speak about one another to their families and friends, uncertain and wandering speech whenever they would.

And because it became so public, because Jude and Y/N used to be so public and open and suddenly now were significantly nothing, everyone noticed; the change was visibly discernable. There was concern, honest worry for the two. Though always would the two shrug it all off and reassure everyone by saying all would be good in the end, not knowing what the end actually entailed for them in future months.

'Cause Jude and Y/N just kept escalating, faltering, and stumbling away from one another as the months passed. 1 month, 14 days, 7 days, 3 days, 1 day until they amounted to absolutely nothing. It had been an internal battle. They felt what they could—that adoration, desire, attraction, affection—they loved what they could until they couldn't anymore. 

They spiralled, completely spiralled until they were nothing, and there was nothing they could have done to stop it. Without noticing they simplified devastation in their relationship. They were the earth after a monumental asteroid, knocked off their axis and forced into oblivion.

"We're a bit tragic, aren't we?"

It had been quiet for a while. Not only between the two but also in the coffee shop they were settled in, seeing as closing time was near and hardly any customers but themselves were present. Still, they welcomed it almost as if the two had forgotten how to speak (and maybe they did). So her voice came to him as a surprise when she narrowed the silence between them.

Jude came out of a short daze and dialled his attention back on the person sitting across from him. He tuned back into Y/N—his now ex-partner—who was stirring her coffee order waiting for his response. 

"Tragic?" He exhaled and leaned back in his place and tilted his head. Not only because he had to think about it. They were having one of those conversations again. The ones that were beyond depressing and sad to entertain. "A strong word that, but yeah... We're a bit tragic."

He looked away as his chest fell. There was a sad smile on his lips when he finished speaking. Y/N shared how he felt, nodding with pursued lips because it was overwhelmingly true.

After they broke up some months ago they chose to remain friends, civil and familiar. They were able to be friends with no problem or hassle. Still, that didn't cancel out the fact that they were indeed tragic as one.

A quick glance at their relationship revealed the hardships Jude and Y/N experienced together. They were forced to break apart so prematurely and there was little to no one to relate to. What they had initially felt for one another hadn't been able to withstand the demands of fate and the universe. While they tried and tried and tried countless times, they couldn't exactly recall the reasons why they fell for one another some years ago. 

For those reasons and many more, they were tragic.

"I don't know if it's just me," Y/N started as she placed her spoon down, "but I always try to pinpoint where it kinda went all wrong but I'm always lost about it."

"I just try not to think about it, to be honest," Jude sighed, drained and hopeless. 

By now he had accepted that he and Y/N as a couple had been a lost cause. The distance between them who they had been and who they were now was too wide to bridge. Just like Y/N couldn't pinpoint where everything had gone wrong between them, he had been doing the same before their break-up, when they had started to slowly unravel. Months have passed—years—and still was Jude uncertain as to how they fell apart so he just left the subject alone for his sanity.

He didn't acknowledge it that much but according to others around him, the weight of the break up fell on Jude's shoulders more than it did Y/N. He was the one who opened up the possibility of a relationship; he was the one who had pursued Y/N, had asked her out and eventually asked her to be his girlfriend. Being the more emotional half, the more vulnerable one had others feeling like Y/N was the first one to fall out of love.

Jude could've reacted when he had first heard that judgement though chose not to. One, their relationship was over so what good would an answer actually do for them? Two, just like his past lover, he too fell out of love with Y/N. Why antagonise her for something she couldn't control, an action he too was guilty of committing?

He cleared his throat as he lifted his eyes away from the table. "But I do try to at least imagine what we were like." Imagine, not remember. If he tried to remember he would fail. To imagine came with no defeat and all creativity; he could wish upon all he wanted and leave out all the bad of their previous relationship.

Her eyes brightened as they widened, interest prevailing in her voice. "Oh, really?" It wasn't rare to have positive talk between them. Not everything they spoke about was sad and depressing. What was rare was positive talk regarding their past together.

"Yeah. Not all the time, though," Jude sat up straighter in his place, rubbing under his nose. "Just when I want to wonder a bit. I don't talk about it with anyone anymore—I haven't for a while really—but I spoke about us with my mum the other day, like last week or whatever. I asked about it 'cause I naturally get curious and she told me some stuff."

She carefully gripped her hands around her mug, despite her coffee having gone cold by now. "And what did she say?" Y/N asked in a soft tone.

"She said... she said a lot. She said after I first asked you out on our first date and you said yes, I was so excited and obsessed with you—in a good way obviously. I asked her about when I first told you I loved you and she mentioned I was so happy and excited and kinda just in love that she was scared that I was going to go too fast, like propose or something." The corner of his lips curved up as they shared a small laugh together. Despite their distance, they were able to reminisce on something they no longer held feelings for.

"We spoke a lot about how I was with you and everything and after all that I asked about you, how you were to me... and she didn't have to say much because and I quote, the same way you felt about her was the same way Y/N felt about you, Jude."

Soon, Y/N became animated as she offered Jude a teasing look. "So what I'm hearing is that we were soulmates?" Even if it was a question in literal terms, it almost came out as a statement. Y/N wanted to believe they were soulmates beyond their losses.

"I think we were so much more than just soulmates," Jude suggested. From a shy smile it grew into something wide, happiness reaching his eyes perfectly. "Soulmates, best friends, in-between people for others. And I want to believe we were fun and cool and real." 

Even though Jude and Y/N couldn't remember what or how they felt for one another once upon a time, they still had a clear chain of events of their relationship, and still had an understanding of their favourite activities and hobbies together. From that they could come to their conclusions.

"We still are." Not that she wanted to believe that but rather Y/N knew that was the reality. Beyond their depressing and sad conversations every few weeks, they would have fun and cool and real times. 

They still enjoyed listening to music together. They still played video games together. They still found comfort and rest in having conversation with two coffee orders with the dessert special of the day at their favourite coffee place, always sitting at their designated table—with Jude facing the entrance—that even some of the staff members recognised to be theirs. All those activities and events happened all time post-relationship, just without those lingering feelings.

He hummed in agreement. "We still are," Jude said, satisfied and happy. He was satisfied and happy knowing that this wasn't just a sad and depressing conversation they were having; they were also able to share some happiness and understanding during their routine meet-up.

Jude and Y/N shared some easy conversations, exchanged songs and music tastes, discussed their favourite people, hot gossip and personal life with no fear of judgement seeing as they were given the time and space alone together in the final open hours of their favourite coffee shop.

It was a wake every time they would meet up; they would pay their respects to their dead relationship, reminisce about it if the collective mood was moderately neutral, comfort and support one another where needed, reflect on the relationship and life in general, shed tears or laugh then say goodbye when it was all said and done.

But there was also a celebration aspect to it. After everything, after the universe and fate had screwed them over with false hope of a flourishing relationship, after losing the ability to feel for one another romantically, Jude and Y/N were still friends. Not too distant or best friends but friends. They were friendly and comfortable and civil to one another, and that was okay with them; that was all they needed to move on together and separately.

Maybe they were right after all. The love was still there, unconditional just within reason. Whether together or not, Jude and Y/N were soulmates and would always be.

part 2

[thefandomlesbian]

37 + wilson for the ask game :)

OUCH we're going right for the throat, huh--

This is probably going to be utterly incomprehensible and I am not responsible for any ramifications that arise from answering this question. Allow the word-barf to commence!

#37: What they really think about themselves:

This is such a difficult question to answer because Wilson is a man shrouded in layers upon layers of hiding. This is someone who constantly begs the people around him to be vulnerable with him, to trust him, while simultaneously refusing to ever offer his own vulnerability. And he's good at it. He's good at passing himself off as being close to someone while they never know he has a brother.

House is all walls topped with barbed wire fences and he makes no claims otherwise. Wilson on the other hand is a shimmering oasis. He's fresh water in the desert with shade and fruit. He's nothing but a refreshing illusion. Wilson can be incredibly human while simultaneously more detached than anyone knows. This is aided by the fact that he's a social chameleon, matching whoever he's with, and a natural conscience mirror for the people around him. House calls him out on this multiple times in S5, specifically for being a chameleon who meets the environmental needs of everyone else socially; House asks him, "Who are you at your core?" and then goes on to assert that he thinks Wilson has no core, that his locus of identity has been completely erased in his desperation to meet the needs of others.

Even in S6 when House demands that Wilson choose something to place in their home that he likes... he picks something he knows House likes. "You asked me to tell you who I am, and I am someone who loves you. This is the only answer I know how to give." That's typically the fandom read, but it's important to recognize that this attitude is not unique to House coming from Wilson. He does the same thing with Amber, with Grace (the cancer patient he cares for), with Cuddy during the Rachel adoption arc, with Tucker, with Sam. His existence pivots on his service to other people.

His desperate need to be needed, as House calls it, has a flipside: Wilson can't need anything. From anyone, ever. He can't be vulnerable, which is why he hides himself so effectively. To unveil weaker parts of himself, it would require his loved ones to serve him, to help him, and Wilson cannot cope with the idea of inconveniencing the people in his life. I have written meta in the past on the whole cast's gross mistreatment of Wilson during the Tritter arc. He has no money, no car, living in a hotel that presumably expects weekly payments, no way to buy food or keep himself housed. Everyone attacks him when he finally folds, but none of those people were there to support him, even though his situation was exclusively caused by House lying to and manipulating him. But the thing is... Wilson wouldn't have let them help him. Think of his friendship with Cuddy, how she reveals that she treats him as a confidant (she told him and only him that she slept with her father's best friend) and trusts him not to repeat things to House--but when he arrives to work late from riding the bus, she didn't even know his car was impounded. That sort of friendship is the type you can call to come get you! You don't need to take the bus! Wilson would never dream of reciprocating the relationship she has with him. He's incapable of inconveniencing someone, even to ask for a ride to work or to spot him a five for a sandwich in the cafeteria, even from people he's very close to.

And this all comes to a head in the cancer arc. Wilson is incapable of being needy to the point that he's ready to undergo high dose chemotherapy alone in his own home in a nonsterile environment with no one to monitor him or check on him. In his words: "I am not going to die slowly in a hospital bed under fluorescent lighting with people stopping by to gawk and lie about how I look. Even a small chance of that happening is too big a chance for me." It's funny that later in this episode he says that he wanted a wife and children to care for him, when we know he wouldn't ever allow himself to be so weak in front of his loved ones. House acknowledges this in the same episode.

Wilson's need to serve and his fearful avoidance of being vulnerable all point to an incredibly abysmal sense of self-worth. He says that House doesn't like himself but admires himself, and I don't even think Wilson does that much--as he consistently tries to lie on the sword for everyone around him. RSL says Wilson is the saddest man in New Jersey, and I would agree with that. Wilson has deep-seated issues with his self-esteem. As a wise YA novel once said, we accept the love we think we deserve, and the only love Wilson ever accepts is House's. In S3 after House upends his entire life, it takes one genuine apology to buy him back, because House's love is the only one Wilson knows how to handle. It's the only one he can take without feeling unworthy. All coming to the S8 conclusion: House makes the ultimate sacrifice for Wilson, and Wilson (in spite of having just lambasted House publicly for ostensibly ditching him) argues against it. Wilson says he's not worth the sacrifice. He would rather die alone than have House give up his life for him.

(I could delve into a whole follow-up wrt Wilson's romantic relationships as a gay!Wilson truther, but I've already gone too far and made this unnecessarily long.)

so in short: I wouldn't say Wilson hates himself explicitly, he would consider that vain and self-centered, but he cannot exist outside of serving others. If his utility is gone, he is pointless. I already wrote a long meta on my take on Wilson's suicidality, but that line of thought follows here, too. Wilson thinks his value as a person stems from his ability to care for others and will die sooner than become someone who needs to be cared for.

[ggumjjun]

# soobin + church sex !! xmas special

tw. f!reader, church girl!reader, religion (im not religious anymore… so this might be inaccurate), pet names, corruption kink, unprotected sex (please dont irl), first-time. minors dni + nsfw

a/n. for all the soobin corruption kink lovers a special merry xmas <3

##############################

“to the holy father we thank for our many blessings and gifts on this special day.” soft bells ring throughout the church pews, worshippers closing their eyes as they unanimously “amen” to end the pastor’s sermon. decked out for christmas, the church halls were filled with bright green wreaths dotted with holly berries before the stained glass windows depicting christ and the virgin mary, shepherds and sheep. snow slowly falls from the cloudy sky outside, softly landing on the windowsills. countless candles lined the pews, emitting a soft yellow glow, wax dripping down the candlesticks.

hands clasped together, you whispered a quiet, “amen,” before dropping your tithe into the basket offered by a sister with a smile. “thank you, dear, and bless you.” if the church nuns had a favorite, you were certainly close. always dressed in your most modest, blouses and dresses buttoned all the way up with long skirts. never hesitating to volunteer before services, and attending every sunday. “thank you, sister. merry christmas to you.” you nodded politely, a genuine sweet smile adorning your features. the masses in the pews began to stir as they collected their belongings, turning for the door as they headed for fellowship and coffee. weaving through the crowd, you approached the front of the hall. “pastor, may I stay behind to clean? it would be a shame if the hall was left untidy after todays service for the coming days.” “of course, my dear. if only the other young gentlemen and ladies had the same dedication to church as you did. especially that choi soobin.” the pastor sighed, collecting his coat for the cold. your eyes blinked innocently, considering the boy in name.

choi soobin. the name of the one member of your devout church congregation who rarely showed up to service (primarily at the end if he did… for free refreshments at fellowship) and wore untidy clothes to all events. his friends were non believers, and to many of the church elders, it was unacceptable that he mingle with so many with poor habits. while the name struck a sigh of disappointment amongst the congregation, he struck a chord of curiosity within you. his soft, brown eyes and heart-shaped lips were the envy of many of the church boys, and the desire of many church girls. perhaps you included. he’d shown up today, dragged in by his grandmother who had compromised by sitting in the back of the hall.

“remember, if you need anything, my office is always open during hours.” the pastor’s voice broke your train of thoughts, and you quickly nodded before whirling around, pressing your cold hands to your bright red cheeks, flushed with warmth. it was a sin to think about boys in the church hall—especially those who were unfaithful to the lord. you blinked and glanced around, realizing the church hall was devoid of people. as you walked towards the storage closet, an arm wrapped around your waist and spun you around in a gentle pull. your eyes met a broad chest dressed in an oversized black sweater, matching the pair of fitted dark wash distressed jeans. your gaze slowly tilted upwards, to be met with the round, chocolate brown eyes of choi soobin.

“s-soobin!” you squeaked, equally startled by his appearance and distracted by the arm around your waist. “hey, sweetheart,” soobin smiled, his free hand toying with the small rosary dangling from your neck. “h-huh? sweet…sweetheart?” you mumbled, flustered by his proximity. you’d last spoken to soobin at sunday school several years ago, and had kept your distance after hearing the church elders discuss their concerns over his poor attendance and behavior raucously at fellowship. a small laugh escaped his heart-shaped lips, gazing down at your smaller figure with amusement. “always the good girl, not even going to fellowship until the church has been cleaned?” warmth flooded your cheeks, both embarrassed and defensive at his words. “what do you mean?” you asked hesitantly, still unsure of whether to escape his grasp or to sinfully remain in it.

“don’t you ever have any fun, sweetheart?” soobin hinted, “church life is boring, after all.” your eyes widened at his insinuation, heart racing at the thought of breaking your modest lifestyle. “of… of course not!” you stammered, “i could never betray the trust of the lord.” “that’a a shame.” with a sigh of disappointment, the hand around your waist dropped as he turned around. a “w-wait!” you cried without thinking, reaching for his absent hand. “oh?” leaning his head over his shoulder, soobin glanced behind to see your small, blushing figure tentatively holding to his hand, “what’s this? a devout church girl holding the hand of someone like me?” he teased, amused at your evident display of emotion.

your eyes darted nervously around, unsure of your actions. your mind insisted you let go, and send him on his way for his bold actions. your heart begged you to listen to him, to have the time with the handsome man you’d always been curious about. to challenge his mindset about you.

“w-what did y-you have in mind?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. a grin spread across soobin’s face, before he swiftly pulled you into his chest, leaning over to whisper in your ear. “don’t you ever wonder what it’s like to sin? to feel the lust and greed that the bible condemns?” you blinked in shock at his words; the temptation to know beckoning at your heart to follow soobin murmurs over the pastor’s constant preaching of abstinence. “can you imagine it? the sensation of physical touch… just like this.” finger tips danced down your back, gently smoothing over your curves through your skirt before warm palms cupped your waist and ass. humiliation burned through skin as shivers raced up your spine, breathy gasps escaping your throat at the unfamiliar touch. “it feels good, doesn’t it, doll?” he whispers, licking your earlobe in a long stripe. you gasped at the warm, wet sensation, an unfamiliar burn in your lower abdomen sparking alight. “sit on my lap,” soobin quietly instructs, taking a seat at a church pew and pulling you with him. a squeak leaves your throat as you straddle him, unfamiliar with your proximity to him.

“undo your dress buttons for me, sweetheart?” he asks, glancing down and taking your hesitant hands in his own and guiding them to the high neckline of your blouse. shakily, the buttons of your blouse come undone, exposing your cleavage to the frigid air conditioned room. “so pretty, all untouched for me.” soobin murmurs, before biting down on your skin. “a-ah!” you cry out, the sharp pain quickly soothed by a gentle lap of his tongue. breathy pants echo throughout the church hall, your head tipping backwards to expose more of yourself to soobin. murals of god and christ covered the ceiling, condemning and shaming you for your lack of modesty. humiliation trickled down your senses, although the thought of violating the lord’s words in his sanctuary sent heat rushing down over your body. “ah! wait—n-not there!” you whine, his ministrations trailing down your throat to the soft skin of your breast uncovered by your bra. “look at yourself, doll. all marked up by me.” your face burns with embarrassment and shame at his words, a moan escaping your lips as you glance down at the purple-red splotches dotting your chest. pressure builds in your core, an unfamiliar feeling of need taking over all other senses. “s-soobin, need more! feels… feels hot everywhere!” you whimper, desperate to quench the burning sensation crawling over your skin.

“i’ve got you, doll. just trust me?” soft lips meet your own in a gentle kiss. your eyes flutter shut, leaving behind all resistance as you melt in in soobin’s warm touch. the hard wood of the church pew meets your clothed back as he guides you into lying down. climbing over your vulnerable figure, soobin claims your lips in a string of kisses, only broken by shared breathy pants of arousal. tickling trails of fingertips gently pop open the buttons of your skirt, cold air rushing to meet the smooth skin of your thighs, doing little to quench the searing heat of your core. “soobin, it still burns!” fear laces your desperate plea as his hand comes to palm your clothed cunt. “shhh, don’t be scared. you’re doing so well, sweetheart.” you whimper at his praise, watching in nervous anticipation as he pulls away and settles between your thighs. “so cute and plush,” soobin remarks, licking your inner thigh in a single stroke, “don’t be nervous.”

pulling down your panties to your ankles, soobin licks his lips in anticipation. your soft, untouched pussy glistening with innocent, unknowing slick. two fingers gently prod at your entrance, the sudden contact causing you to clench your legs shut. “can’t do that, sweetheart,” soobin coos, coaxing your legs apart once more before taking your hand in his, “i’ve got you. just breathe.” his fingers slide past your entrance into your tight walls, clamping down on the foreign feeling. whimpers mixed with the soft sound of your juices squelching in and out with his fingers echo throughout the church hall. the sight of such a salacious act in front of you brings tears of shame to your eyes, to be feeling arousal before the lord. desperate cries break free from your throat as you squirm, despite your attempts to stay still. prodding your sensitive spot, fire races through your stomach as pressure builds, eliciting lewd, high pitched moans from your chest. “does it feel good, doll?” before you can respond, his lips latch on to your sensitive clit, sucking at the bud. broken cries fill the empty air of the hall, “s-soobin! c-can’t take anymore!” you sob, the knot in your stomach releasing as you cum over his lips and fingers, a wail leaving your throat as you tremble with aftershocks. soobin’s fingers swirl over your juices, making eye contact with your dizzy, unfocused eyes as he licks your slick off each finger slowly, relishing your taste.

climbing over you again, his sticky fingers press to your lips. “taste yourself, sweetheart. you’ve been so good for me.” you sloppily lick his fingers, dazed from your first orgasm. “are you ready for the real thing, doll?” he whispers, pressing soft kisses to your neck. “mmmhmm” you mumble, having lost most of your thoughts to the overwhelming experience. “i need words, darling,” lacing his fingers with yours once again, soobin presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand, “you’ve already done so well, sweetheart.”

“yes, soobin.” you whimper, “i want you.” you find yourself reaching for the zip on his jeans, feeling the hard member concealed within. “good girl, so greedy for me.” he praises, wrapping his hand around your trembling fingers and pulling the zip of his jeans down along with his boxers. your eyes widen at his heavy, long cock, stiff and red with impatience. “a-are you sure it will fit?” you squeak, intimidated by his size. “i know you can do it, doll,” soobin coos, aligning himself with your entrance, “i’ll go slowly.” pressing his lips against yours, tongues entwining as he pushes in, stretching your walls slowly. “doll, relax,” soobin groans against your lips, your cries at the stretch lost in kisses.

tears slip down your cheeks, uncomfortable yet aroused by his overwhelming size. centimeter by centimeter, soobin sheathes himself inside your clenching warmth. “look, sweetheart,” soobin coaxes, encouraging your eyes to open, “can you see how well you‘ve taken me?” a lewd whimper elicits from your throat as you see his large hand over yours on your stomach, gently pressing down to feel his cock deep inside you. “i’m going to move now, sweetheart.” you nod, unable to form sentences at the unfamiliar, full feeling. slowly thrusting in and out, incoherent moans echoing throughout the church hall as the sound of skin on skin fills your ears. “soobin! a-ah! f-feels good!” you squeak, whines flowing freely from your lips as you give in to pleasure, the knot reforming in your core. “s-so tight!” he gasps, grabbing at your waist to angle deeper in your small pussy, “so good and pretty for me!” control gives way to sloppy, uneven thrusts as he reaches down to rub your abused clit, encouraging you to your high. “s-soobin! can’t take anymore! ha-have to—“ you sob desperately, the obscene sounds deafening to your senseless body. “c’mon doll, c-cum for me?” soobin gasps, as pleasure and heat burn beneath your skin. your orgasm crashes on your overwhelmed core, walls clamping down on soobin’s cock. “f-fuck! t-take it all, doll!” soobin moans, flooding your cunt with thick, white cum. your arms pull soobin tighter to you, whining at the overly-full feeling in your abdomen.

“so good, doll, you did so well,” soobin mumbles into your neck, before pulling out his softening length. “f-feel full.” you whimper, as soobin zips his jeans back up. “don’t worry about it, sweetheart. have to clean you up, okay?” pressing his sweaty forehead to yours, his fingers deftly button your rumpled clothing and slide your panties back up your legs, containing the your mixed cum. “you did so well,” soobin repeats, before scooping up your limp figure up from the church pew and carrying you towards the bathroom. “soobin?” you whisper, “i r-really, really liked it.” “i’m glad you did, doll. merry christmas, sweetheart.” he whispers back, the thought of what else he could do the corrupt this innocent, untouched church girl sending blood to his core.

##############################

merry christmas ~ love, mille

[libraryofloveletters]

Perfect Match

Andy Robertson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: ted lasso inspired - yes I used the dating app from it and what ???, reader works for liverpool, lots of friendly teasing, it's so obvious but not to them, andy's got a crush and the boys try to help him, a few sweet comments from andy, reader thinks he's hopeless, a funny but sweet moment at the end, alcohol and the consumption of, one illusion to nsfw stuff at the end.

Word Count: 3.4k

Author's Note: it's missing robbo hours :( so I dug this out of my vault of unwritten fics

---

You had been editing the pictures from the last training session, trying to see what you can send out to the players and post on the LFC account before your office door swings open. "Where are my photos?" The man shouts, his thick accent jumbling his words a bit.

The chair spins, you're face to face with your favourite left back, Andy. You smiled at him. "Hello to you too, Andrew."

You and Andy had always been close, even though you had only joined Liverpool 2 years ago. He was the first to welcome you, make you feel at home; to this day, he still does that.

"Hello to you too, lady." He smiles back at you, leaning on the edge of your desk. "How's the editing going? My fans are waiting to see my handsome face."

You rolled your eyes, "it's going.. slow. I'm doing the people of the world a great service by not letting them see your face."

Andy scoffs, "as if, you just wanna hoard pictures of me.. for you know.. dirty purposes." He bites his lower lip, a shit eating grin on his face as he raises his eyebrows.

You laughed so hard that you snorted. "Shut your face, you're so full of it."

The left back laughs, watching as you turn your attention back to the computer in front of you, clicking away. Your phone sat on your desk, face up as always - it buzzed, a chime sound came from it that Andy's never heard before nor does he seem to recognize.

"What's that?" He reaches for your phone, you attempt to grab it before he does but Andy's reflexes are faster than yours. He unlocks your phone - that's on you for leaving your password as 0000.

"Andy, give it back." You stretched your hand out for him to give it back. He scrolls through the notifications, landing on the one he assumed the noise came from; Bantr.

"There's no pictures," he huffs, trying to refresh the page. You roll your eyes, "it's anonymous, Andrew. It's not supposed to have photos."

"You're a photographer, why would you pick a stupid app like that?"

You find yourself rolling your eyes yet again. "It's that way so you can build a connection; you get to know the person based on personality and not looks."

Andy tilts his head to the side still confused as to why you'd pick such an app. "But.. you're beautiful, any man would be stupid not to see that, y/n."

Your cheeks flushed red and suddenly, the room felt as if it was closing in on you and it was 100 degrees hotter in there. "Shut up, you're such a sweet talker," you rolled your eyes.

He laughs at your statement, shrugging as he sets your phone down. Andy gets off your desk, his arms resting over your shoulders and his chin poking into the top of your head. He watches as you click through the various pictures, storing through the good and the bad, fixing minor blemishes as you went.

"You should try it, you know." You tell him quietly and Andy hums, waiting for you to keep talking. "Bantr, you should try it. You're a funny guy, you might have luck."

"Maybe," he shrugs it off, his hand lifting to squish your face. You swat his hand away.

"Aren't you supposed to be in the gym or something?"

"Yeah," he huffs, "but Mo and Trent are trying to do some sort of crunches competition and you know-" "You hate crunches, I know, Andy."

He laughs, "why would I go on Bantr when I have you, y/n?"

Your heart skips a beat, but you figured he's just joking - he's always just joking.

"Whatever, Andy. Unlike you, some of us actually have work to do."

He gets the hint; you were politely shooing him out of your office. "Yeah, okay," he nods, kissing the top of your head before squeezing your face once more. "Send me my pictures please."

"I'll edit them last."

"Saving the best for last?" He asks, turning towards the door.

"Trying to spare myself from seeing your face, I've had my fill for now." You joke, earning a laugh from the left back as he walks out of the office.

The day rolls by and you did in fact send Andy his pictures. His phone buzzes in the cup holder as he heads home, glancing at it as he pulls up to a stoplight.

To Andy: *12 Image Attachments* Stop bothering me now, Andrew.

He smiles to himself, making a mental note to text you back when he arrive home. In typical Andy fashion, he becomes distracted by the million little tasks he does when he gets home.

It wasn't until he got into bed that he remembered your message, shooting you a thank you with a little kissy face emoji and saving the photos.

Your words from earlier ring in his head as well; bantr, you should try it. You're a funny guy, you might have luck.

Andy searches it up, his finger hovering over the button for a moment before pressing it, watching as the little circle spins and it begins downloading. He follows the steps; putting in his birthday, picking his location, adding a user name.

That took him a moment - he couldn't exactly put his name, could he?

There couldn't be that many Andy Robertsons in Liverpool.

He'd feel wrong for lying and putting a fake name so instead, after a few minutes of thinking, he comes up with a user that is still him without being him.

Andy sits up, contemplating if he should delete the profile. He's a footballer, is this even okay that he's doing this? Would he get in trouble for this?

He ignores the thoughts and his thumb presses the matches tab. He swipes through a few, reading their cheesy bios before he comes across a profile that catches his eye.

The user sounded familiar but he couldn't place it, unsure where he saw it. He decides to message them while he still has the courage.

lfc26: Hey! How are you? 

The reply came but a few seconds later.

photographer_10: Hi! I’m good, how are you? 

lfc26: Good as well, exhausted from work. 

photographer_10: I hope you get some rest. 

lfc26: I just hopped into bed. 

photographer_10: Me too, it’s been a long day. 

lfc26: Tell me about it, and the weather’s been shit.

lfc26: That’s if you’re local. You in Liverpool? 

photographer_10: Yeah, have been for a few years :) 

photographer_10: Are you a fan of Liverpool? 

The message stares at Andy, he feels like he’s been caught. 

lfc26: I am, why do you ask ? 

photographer_10: Your user lol - must be a Robertson fan, he wears 26. 

lfc26: Yeah lol, a proper lad.

photographer_10: I think so too, quite funny as well.

lfc26: So I’ve heard. 

He finds himself smiling, he would have never guessed he’d meet someone who was a fan of him. It warmed his heart in a weird way; not self centred but content. 

lfc26: I think I’m going to head to bed, I have to be up early for work. 

photographer_10: No worries at all, you take care of yourself.

lfc26: You too :) 

--

It goes like that on and off for a week, the two of them exchanging little details about their days, flirting playfully back and forth. Andy glances at his phone every few minutes, expecting a text from the mystery woman.

It's starting to become an issue.

Everyone notices that the man who is usually on their asses about being on their phones is glued to his.

He's cycling, rather lazily to be fair - awaiting a response to his scandalous question about her workplace attire.

Mo glances over at his teammate, his brows furrow as he wonders what's on his friend's mind. "Robbo," he calls for the Scotsman. "You okay?"

Andy glances up from the phone that was now in his hand. He nods, "fine, why?"

"Because you've been glued to your phone, that's why." Virgil butts in, snatching the phone from Andy's hand which caused a protest from him. "Give it back!" He groans, hand stretched out to the captain.

Virgil shakes his head, his back to Andy as he looks down to see what's been keeping Andy so busy. "What's Bantr?" He asks, turning to Andy and Mo again.

Mo shrugs, clueless before looking to Andy for an answer. "A dating app," Andy mumbles.

Virgil and Mo exchange a glance, so many things said between the two players without actually saying it. "So that's why you've been smiling at your phone, checking it all day?" Mo asks.

Trent was passing by, per usual, butting himself into the conversation between the three players. He grabs Virgil's arms swinging himself in between the defender and the cycle Andy was on. "What's that? Andy's got a crush?"

Andy rolls his eyes, his cheeks give away his stance; curse his pale Scottish skin for giving him away. "I don't."

"You're blushing!" Trent laughs, pointing a finger at Andy's flushed face.

Virgil chuckles to himself, reading the messages between his friend and his supposed crush. "Didn't think you had it in you, man; some spicy stuff." He raises his eyebrows at him.

Andy's face only flushes further red. Trent tries to get the phone from Virgil but the man lifts his arm, even with Trent's jumping, he can't get the phone from Virgil's hand.

"Shut up," he groans, wanting the world to swallow him whole right about now.

"If you like her, why don't you just ask her out?" Trent asks, scowling at Virg as he hands the phone back to Andy and not to him. Virgil flicks Trent's ear in response.

Andy makes a face, "I can't! That's.. are you insane, man?"

Trent goes to speak but stops himself when he sees you walking over. The camera hung over your neck by its strap. "What's going on over here? Any hot gossip?"

"Who says we're gossiping?" Andy asks, smiling at you sweetly.

You shrug, glancing between the four of them. "Players all huddled together, it goes silent as I walk over; I'd say that's gossip."

"We don't gossip, we're grown men." Virgil points out, causing you to laugh. You lift the camera, taking a picture of him and Trent.

"Yeah, of course not, so does that make Macca and Darwin.. little boys?" You point behind you with your thumb, the two Spanish speaking players giggling about something as they stretch.

Virgil presses his lips together, making a dopey looking face. You laughed at him, walking off to take a few more photos of the boys on the other side of the room.

--

It's Saturday, match day.

Liverpool played Wolves, 4-1 and the boys were going into the next week on a good note.

Andy, per usual, finds you and offers up his company and dinner. You take him up on it, you were finished with your editing and could use the friend time.

You sat across from the man, the two of you tucked away in the back of a little Italian restaurant Jordan used to rave about. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever," you tell him, taking a sip of your cocktail.

Andy hums, glancing at his phone that was face up on the table. Your brows furrow, studying his face as his finger swipes over the screen.

"Waiting for something?" You asked, raised brows when he finally looked up.

"Oh, just a message from someone."

"Someone as in.. a woman friend? Like, a hot date?" You pried, you and Andy didn't have boundaries when it came to conversation; you poked around in each others' business all the time. You both liked things messy and loud and complicated - it's who you were.

Andy shook his head, his face flushed red like when Trent accused him of having a crush. "No," he huffs, washing the butterflies down with a sip of beer.

Your face lit up, grinning at your friend. "No way! You like her!" The words come out in a sing-song tone and Andy rolls his eyes playfully annoyed with you.

"Shut up," he chuckles, taking a bite of his chicken.

You mirrored his actions, chewing your food quietly. You look at him for a moment, smiling at him. "So tell me about her."

"She's kind, and funny. She likes Liverpool so it's a perfect match."

"The bar is so low, Andy." You teased and he shrugged, smiling. "But I'm glad you found someone, I hope things work out between you two."

"Me too," he nods. "What about you? Any luck?"

"Yeah," you took another sip of your drink, "he's a nice guy, but we're taking it slow. We'll see where it goes."

"Good, let me know if he gives you a hard time and you need me to beat him up." Andy says flatly, 100% serious.

You laughed, "as if you could beat up someone."

"I'll pay Virgil to rough him up."

You two chat for a bit more, finishing up dinner and Andy talked you into splitting a massive piece of cake with him - can't have dinner without dessert, just ain't right.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you made it home. You sent Andy a quick text, thanking him for dinner and telling him you got home. You received a thumbs up in response, which meant he was about to fall asleep and was too tired to answer properly - at least he knew you were fine.

You sat on your bed, opening the app you had been ignoring for the last few hours. Clicking on the profile, you send a message.

photographer_10: Hey you.

Andy, who was about to fall asleep, feels the phone buzz in his hand. He opens his eyes, blinking to get himself to focus when he sees who has messaged him.

Suddenly, he was wide awake.

lfc26: Hi, how are you? 

photographer_10: I'm good, sorry I disappeared. Had some work stuff to take care of. 

lfc26: I thought you forgot about me lol.

photographer_10: Never, you’re hard to forget.

Andy smiled at the message, the butterflies fluttering around his stomach like a 16 year old boy with a crush. 

lfc26: That’s sweet, you’ve got me blushing.

photographer_10: I'm sure you look very handsome.

lfc26: Hush you, I'm as red as a tomato right now.

The next message catches him off guard. 

photographer_10: Now are you ever gonna ask me on a date or shall I ask you? 

lfc26: Oh you beat me to it. 

photographer_10: By all means, please. 

lfc26: Would you like to go on a date with me?

Andy stares at the message, he isn’t even sure how long his thumb hovered over the send button. He finally worked up enough courage to hit it, but automatically locked his phone, tossing it on the bed as he rushed off to get a glass of water from the kitchen. 

It was a few minutes later that he came back and saw the response. 

photographer_10: I’d love to. Let me know when you’re free. 

lfc26: Next week? I’m free on Tuesday. 

photographer_10: Perfect, shall we meet somewhere? 

lfc26: Let me be a gentleman and pick you up? 

photographer_10: Sure, I’d love that :) 

--

The arms around you cause you to jump in your seat, heart stopping momentarily. It wasn't until you saw the pale skin that you connected the dots.

"Scared me half to death, Andrew." You huffed, your attention back on the emails you were answering.

He laughs, his chin poking into the top of your head again, watching as you typed nine knots an hour on your keyboard. "Soooo," he starts and your type comes to a halt. Anytime he says that, something either extremely important or stupid follows.

"So?"

"So I sorta have a date soon, like this week. I.. it's been a while." He admits and you spin in your chair, Andy now leaning on the desk as he looks at you. "You nervous?" You asked.

He nods, "a little, yeah."

"You want my advice?"

"Is there something I should do? What's proper date etiquette ?"

"I don't think there's such a thing," you smiled. "But, if it were me, I'd like flowers. It's not a must but it's a nice touch - shows that you thought about more than just meeting the person, you wanted to make a good first impression."

"Okay," he nods, as if he's making a mental note. "Anything else?"

"Smell good, don't go straight from training. Go home and shower, do your hair, wear some cologne but not too much, you don't wanna make the poor girl sneeze." You laughed, Andy smiled.

"I always smell good."

"Do you?" You raised an eyebrow, looking at him.

Andy pulls you by your chair, sitting himself on your lap so you could smell him. "Ew!" You groaned, "Andy, get off!" He had just come up from training, and it was safe to say he did not smell good right now.

"What?" He asks, making a face at you. "Not good?" He tries not to laugh at your face, nose wrinkled in disgust.

"So gross," you huffed. "Go away before you stink up my office."

"You smell like me now," he cackled, pressing his sweaty self against you. You groaned, pushing him off of you. "I hate you."

"Love you too, y/n!"

--

Your music played quietly, you hummed along as you finished up your makeup. Your wine glass sat on the vanity and as you were about to reach for it, your phone buzzed.

lfc26: on my way :)

photographer_10: okay!

You sped up a bit, pulling the rollers out of your hair and shaking it out. Just a last second check in the mirror before you head down. Perfectly on time, the doorbell rings when you get to the bottom of the stairs.

"Coming!" You shouted, walking over to open the door.

Imagine your surprise when you see Andy at your front door, all dressed up, smelling good while holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Andy?" You looked at him, confused.

He blinks, looking just as confused as you. "Y/n?"

You take a moment to connect the dots and it seems Andy's doing the same. "26," you point at him and he nods. "Photographer," he mirrors your action, the two of you bust out laughing at the front door.

"I cannot believe this," you shook your head, laughing as you stepped aside for him to come in.

"I swear I didn't know it was you. I've never come to your house!" He chuckles and to be fair, it was true. You had gone to his place and you've gone out quite a few times but he's never been over to yours.

"I brought flowers, like you suggested." He passes the bouquet over to you; 26 roses all perfectly arranged and wrapped up in Liverpool red paper with a bow.

"My favourite," you smiled, smelling them. "Thank you, Andy."

He smiles, nodding. "Do you still.. you know, wanna go out?"

"Yeah," you smiled, setting the flowers on the counter. "If you want to."

Andy nods, waiting for you to put your flowers into a vase before he opens the front door.

You two ended up going to your usual spot, the Italian place on Water Street. The conversation was flowing, the two of you laughing about how you ended up there and chatted about the upcoming games. It felt normal, it felt meant to be.

You couldn't help but wonder how you missed all the signs.

It seemed that you two were meant to be.

Andy drives you home, walking up to the front door like a gentleman.

"Thank you for tonight," you smiled at him, your hand in his. Andy smiles, nodding. "No need to thank me, my pleasure."

He watches as you unlock the front door and step in. Your hand is still in his, as you look back at him. The look on your face says it before you do. "You know.. the night doesn't have to end here."

Andy hums, smiling at you. He seems to have gotten the hint.

"Yeah?" He raises his eyebrows as you pull him into the house.

The door slams shut, your lips on his as you answer him. "Yeah."

--

add yourself to the taglist!

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[luis-block]

Can you do some bishop x follower!reader headcanons?? A little nsfw if you want ;)

I got carried away with this lol It is over one thousand words overall. I did put the NSFW content under the cut. And thank you for the request! (this post is tagged NSFT instead of NSFW as it actually shows up)

Warnings: Suggestive themes, Canon typical violence, Naughty stuff under the cut

Bishops x follower!reader headcanons, with NSFW 🔞

Shamura

Depending on your height, they may insist on you sit on their shoulder when out of the temple.  They aren’t undermining your capabilities to defend yourself, but they just worry about you. The upside is you get spoiled AND get to cuddle into Shamura’s shoulder all day, such a win.

Loves to tell you stories when you have trouble falling asleep. They are a master storyteller and can make the readings from the Old Faith’s scripture interest even the biggest of heretics. Their voice lulls you to sleep every time.

Likes to make sure all your needs are met. Whether it be that you have plenty of nice clean robes that match their own, having handmade meals for every meal, or even that you have a piece of jewelry that has their symbol on it, so others know that you are taken.

Kallamar

Being a swimmer is a MUST. So if you don’t know how to swim he will be more than happy to help. It is one of the biggest bonding activities you both do. You will free dive as far down as you can with Kallamar swimming down, collecting shells and bones from dead followers all the same.

He likes to hold you as you two dance. With your stature being smaller than his (even if you are a follower with a tall height) it just makes it easier for you both.

Even if you are out with him, he makes sure you have a weapon on you. What if he lost you and you got attacked, huh? It just gives him a piece of mind that you can defend yourself. It is one of the things he will not let slide.

Heket

She loves it when you collect flowers for her. It is just such a simple act of affection that she will never get over. You have tried to collect enough flowers to make her a flower crown that would fit her. You got a fourth of the way done before it got caught in the wind and blown away.  The sentiment was still there, so it was ok in the end.

Heket likes to walk with you in the fall weather in Anura. The brisk morning air is always refreshing, and watching you jump into leaf piles whenever you pass one is also a big bonus.

Will commission matching jewelry for you both. Part of it is that is to show your strong emotional bonds and deep commitment to each other. The other part of it is to let new and current followers know that you are taken. Some still seem too dense to get the memo, but it has gotten better than it used to.

Leshy

Leshy has a mean game that you both play on the other followers. He asks you if you would like something, you say what you want, and he makes a random follower go and get it! Most of the time you have pity on the follower and ask for something easy to acquire. But if it is a follower known for being an ass to others or has wronged you in the past, you will ask for something impossible for their skill level to achieve. Coming back empty-handed results in an impromptu sacrifice.

 You will get ahold of his leaves that shed from his body and make shawls for yourself. He thinks it is genuinely the cutest he has ever seen. He will collect the leaves he notices falling off and bring them to you so you can make more.

Will not admit it out load, but he has the biggest soft spot for you. Has the biggest crush on you even when you are together. He likes to find cool precious or semi-precious rocks for you. Is still kind shy about it, you blush and giggle every time he does it.

🔞⚠️ NSFW under the cut ⚠️🔞

NSFW headcanons!

Shamura

They are a service top all the way. Wants to make sure you are satisfied. (Or overstimulated, whichever you like more) They will be willing to bottom but prefers to be the one pleasuring you.

Shamura likes to hold you in their hands when you two are getting nasty. It is incredibly intimate  for them and makes them feel close to you. It also feeds you size kink, which is also delightful.

They haven’t mentioned it to you directly, but they love it when you are vocal. You’re not sure if it is a dominants thing, but they want everyone in the temple to know who’s you are. They will often egg you on to be louder if you are ok with it.

Kallamar

Kallamar is a switch that is more comfortable being a bottom. He is worried that if he is on top, he might hurt you, at least that is what he says. He truly revels in that fact that someone who is (or technically was) a follower is having their way with him.

Will do whatever position you want him to do. This man will do the banana splits if that’s what you want.

Would be shy about it but would love to be pegged. Not being in any sort of control would be euphoric for him. And he would be like putty in your hands. Just don’t tell any of his siblings, ok?

Heket

Heket is also a switch but is usually the dominant one. She loves making a mess out of you and will make you say your darkest desires. This is especially true if you show embarrassment, she will double down and she will know by the end of the night.

She isn’t mean in bed but won’t deny that she can be a bit of a bully. Heket can say the nicest things while forcing you to your knees with the best bedroom eyes you have ever seen.

Will call you a “Good little follower” if you are into that. But that also means you will be required to call her your Mistress. But that isn’t really a bad thing in your eyes.

Leshy

Leshy is a top. He has trouble being the bottom, due it his wandering hands that can’t stay to themselves. He also can’t help that you are so attractive to him! You are his kryptonite, in more ways than one. He is also a notorious tease in and out of bed.

His favorite place is in the baren parts of the Darkwood forest. He has an exhibitionist streak that simply can’t be ignored. He is a bit more primal due to him being a bit younger than his other siblings. So, he likes to be more in the open when you too are intimate.

Out of the current Bishops, definitely has a breeding kink. If you don’t want kids, he will respect that. but if you would at least roleplay it with him, he will be a goner. And if you do want kids? Be prepared, you are in for a ride.

[slippinninque]

☀️Crusin'🚘

You have a wonderful day

Fontaine x blackfemreader

warnings: Fluff, some cursing, longfic, mentions of drinking/smoking,

The sun blazed but there was no better day to do it, in your opinion.

It was what Dream Wheelz Cruise deserved, after all. When the 'hood came together to show off the rides they've been working on beneath Jack Frosts' nose. It was very much a pageant for the die-hard mechanics and customizers.

The cruise was destined to go through a few cities. A long, beautiful line of creations and well kept machinery that welcomed all appreciation and celebration.

Businesses and storefronts either closed for the day and offered their parking lots as impromptu showrooms or offered their services and wares to the walking auto-fans.

Many walked their way through the cruise as most cars were parked and those interested in rolling on to the next city cruised at a leisurely pace. There was a unspoken rule of respect to mind the careful speed as much of the foot traffic could leak into the street.

You weren't brave enough to partake in that rule, so you minded the helpful cones and barricade stands to keep your direction.

Revving engines, excited people, music blasting--it brought the very concrete to life. The good mood was infectious as strangers laughed with one another in passing, handing out free merchandise of handy work or paint jobs.

There were popup stands and food trucks dappled the area, offering refreshments of all kinds. You smelled the delightful scorch of grills and watched as hand packed ice-cream flew out window. There was something extra in a lot of the coolers and definitely something loud in the air.

Your favorite part was everybody was stepping out in their freshest 'fits and looking to be pictured with some dope cars. This year, you decided to follow suit.

In honor of the beautiful day--you decided to show some skin. White shorts with a matching white and silver the circle-sequin cropped camisole. You braided your locs up into a bun though a few of the shorter ones escaped shortly after.

Armed with your camera--you set off with one mission: To enjoy yourself!

You saw a olive-pearled 1970 Cadillac DeVille Convertible, it's owner an absolute starlet as she leaned against the door to smoke a cigar.

There were twin girls bouncing about their grandpa's sable Chevrolet El Camino while their grandmother threw a few wings onto a small grill a few few away.

An endless flow of flawless metal and hearty characters, so ready to share their special creations. You'd bet there would be an ache in your neck from your constant rubbernecking a you walked.

When a Lotus Esprit rolled past, you nearly lost your shit. It was painted in tribute to Kill Bill with a pair of blazing, blue eyes stenciled artfully on it's left side. You ditched your spot in the slushie line, but the photos you got were more than worth it.

You ran into the elders of your block who decided to come together to see the precession. You sat and chatted, a plate of somehow making it's way onto your lap. The lot of you traded photos and told the others what you've seen. Before departing, you made sure to snap plenty of photos to pass out later.

Your quota for pictures was met two-fold. This year came along with a promise to appear in more photos--not just the background. So, when someone offered to take your photo in front of their wheels after a chat? You accepted.

With the way you winked and twinkled in the light, you could see a few heads turn from the corner of your eye. By lunch time, your face ached faintly from all the smiling you've done and your tote was heavier with goodies on your shoulder.

Walking slowly, going through your camera roll filled you with pure satisfaction. You looked as happy as you felt inside.

Someone called your name and it popped your thought-bubble. Whirling to follow the second call, you grinned at who was coming to meet you.

" 'Taine! I didn't know you'd be here!"

You held a hand above your eyes to see him better. He was wearing grey sweats, a white tank, and then a smile when he caught you staring. Fontaine clasped his hands behind his back and tilted his head as you fumbled to change the subject.

"Uhm--I'm goin' to submit again this year." You stammered and grabbed your camera for proof, "I'd love to get a photo of you and your boys to add to my streak!"

" 'Course. 'Moss went off to get some ice for the cooler. C'mon and chill with me for a bit if you ain't doin'."

You brightened and nodded, not trusting yourself to say anything. Fontaine winked at you and gestured for you to follow. Behind his back you let your mouth drop open a bit, marveling at the turn of events.

---------

Fontaine found a great spot, half-shaded by one of the trees lining the miscellaneous lot further away from the heart of the cruise. You spotted Big Moss' '70 Chevy Suburban he only took out on special occasions. It reminded you of the Flintstones sherbet push-pop. It's polished orangesicle finish with light blue detailing was electric in the day light.

Fontaine waited for you to finish snapping your photos of the cars in the lot, walking with you and offering a nod to the drivers who weren't posted at the nearby Coney truck.

"Pretty, pretty girl!" You whistled as you finally saw the Grand Prix. It was polished down. Every bit of it gleamed in the light, Fontaine's care to detail showing all over it.

Fontaine grinned, scratching at his nose a bit bashfully, " 'Preciate you but I can't take all the credit. Junebug helped with the drying and chose the air freshner."

You laughed, just knowing that the kid was tearing up the road somewhere with his two-wheel gang.

He opened the back passenger door for you to sit as he leaned against the Pontiac. You dug into your tote and pulled out your last water bottle, offering to share with him.

"I don't have cooties, just to let you know." you said after he insisted you have your fill first.

He only accepted it when you drank more than half of the bottle,

"All ya'll women got cooties. It's cool, though. Ain't gonna hold it against you or nothin'. "

"First off, ya'll gave them to us!"

You were 52% sure that Fontaine knew that you had a crush on him. Taking into account that half the women in the Glenn had thing for him, you have yourself some grace.

Though...if Fontaine didn't mind being near you, didn't that mean something? If he kept up with your previous photo submissions, wouldn't that be more than nothing? It felt different than friends but not quite more. Like you were a page apart from each other.

Being like this was enough for you, though. Having easy conversation with a flirty center, it was more than good enough. The cherry on top is when Fontaine allowed you to snap a photo of him posed in the front of the Pontiac.

"Oh, you real with it." Fontaine said when he saw you kneel, taking your time focusing the lens.

" 'Preciate you." you repeated back absently, catching his smile with a flick of a shutter.

"Can I go next?"

You startled and turned to see a group of ladies. From the looks of it, someone was having a birthday if the matching air-brushed shirts was any indication. The one who spoke wasn't the one who was wearing the crown, though. Which seemed to be an immediate problem.

You looked to Fontaine to see him begin to speak, but the party group erupted into who was going to go first and what was appropriate 'birthday behavior'.

Standing back up and watching them for a moment, you couldn't help but to feel for the birthday girl. Then you felt worse for what seemed to be the only sober friend of the quartet.

You were prepared to suggest a group photo when you felt a touch to your elbow.

"C'mere, 'Bit. Lemme see something real quick."

Before you could respond, Fontaine led you away from the curb and placed you neatly onto the hood of his car. The metal was pleasantly warm under your thighs. Before he pulled away, you grabbed his wrist nearest.

"What about your paint, my shirt have the-the things!"

Fontaine pinched your chin and pulled your camera loose to aim at you. The sight shocked you into compliance as you appreciated how good Fontaine looked behind a camera.

"Gimmie somethin'." He said to you, ignoring the dying argument behind him. A few walkers saw you posted and the bickering women before they waited off to the side admiring the Grand Prix.

You fought the urge to clam up. Keeping it simple with a grin and peace sign wasn't enough for Fontaine, who sucked his teeth loudly.

"Girl, I know that ain't all you got!"

"Well excuse me for not wantin' to scratch up anythin'..."

"All you gotta do is keep looking good," Fontaine threw a high-brow look at you before ducking back behind the camera, "Keep that little attitude on yo' face. S'cute as hell."

As if the sun wasn't enough in it's beaming down on you, Fontaine's words sent you into a whole different level on the Scoville scale.

Failing to catch it in time, your giggle spilled through your fingers. Fontaine hummed and the shutter sounded rapid fire.

Those who lingered tutted and clucked but he paid them no mind. He focused only on you. As if it were only you and his car, as if there was nothing else worth note in the sea of classics and supers.

Those eyes made it easier to breathe. To relax against the hood in a lazy recline. Fontaine made a noise, took a step back and another flurry of shutters.

For the next while, you played model as Fontaine played photographer. He took shot after shot, you leaned up against the Pontiac with vintage flair, hips tilted with a flirty wink.

Sitting pretty with your hands folded neatly in our lap, on your best first Lady Obama Picture Day realness. You forgot who you were with for a moment when you knelt down next to the rims, arched and popped.

"I like that one." Fontaine announced immediately. A man, somewhere behind you, agreed. Fontaine's face flattened as he glared into the crowd as you laughed.

You were then helped to your feet, the crowd dispersed to be visit the other Old-Schools and Supes. You couldn't find it in you to be apologetic for hogging 'Taine a little.

You both poured over the photos and when you realized that you only two 2 photos of Fontaine while he took a dozen of you. When you pointed it out, he shrugged.

"Shiet, you tryna tell me the block ain't gonna know this me?" he was all low-toned, "The car, I mean."

"Well, with me being all over it--might be a mistake of...circumstance." You spanned your fingers on the warm hood.

Fontaine took a step closer to put the camera's band back over your neck.

"They goin' know what it is, 'Bit. I'm gonna make sure."

Looking up at Fontaine as he slid his eyes from your brows to your thighs, that sweet heat returned and you. You knew you weren't talking about cars or the cruise anymore.

Looking away to clear your throat, you could see Fontaine's head tilt as he tried to keep your gaze.

"Um, those food trucks aren't so busy now," you shrugged a bit, "You wanna grab a bite?"

Now it was his turn to lean against the hood, his edges fuzzed by the sunlight.

"Was actually shootin' to take you somewhere nicer"

You made a surprised noise, "Oh! Were you now?"

"Hm. Planned on asking you to ride with me. Was gonna take you to that Caribbean spot everyone been talkin' about in the next county."

"Pretty full proof, I would say! You got the entertainment and food handled. Where are we in the plan exactly?"

Fontaine's expression was fond at your teasing as he pretending to think over your question earnestly.

"Not too far, 'suppose. I did think I would have you sitting in my front seat by now, gorgeous."

Those eyes caressed you as best they could, matching with Fontaine's obvious interest. This made you tongue tied and hot cheeked again.

"And Big Moss?"

"I'm sure he'll find that ice."

When you looked over your shoulder to the closed door of the Grand Prix, Fontaine moved past you to open the passenger door. You brushed a hand over his as you got into the car.

What a wonderful time. You think you finally understood the cat who got the cream, that absolute content from getting what you want.

"You gonna hook your phone up?" Fontaine asked as he started the Grand Prix. He revved it once, twice just to see your estatic grin.

You took the aux cord when it was offered and snugged back into the seat as Fontaine pulled the car out of the lot. The Grand Prix was welcomed into the sea of precious metal, another ripple in summer's wave.

"I have the perfect song to start..."

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

ending notes: Siiigh to ride off into the sunset with this dude 😌And yeeees, you put on D'Angelo's Crusing Thank you so much for reading and being patient with me! 💕💜✨I hope you're all having a wonderful, sunny summer!☀️✨💜

taglist:@megamindsecretlair @thadelightfulone @mag1calenchantr3ss @cocoeffects @wide-nose-and-wonderful @8ttached @thadelightfulone @hobiesmain @thickeeparker @longpause-awkwardsmile @ms-angiealsina @educatorsareslutstoo @mysterychick93 @sageispunk@hunnishive@notapradagurl7@mcondance@longpause-awkwardsmile@ms-angiealsina@educatorsareslutstoo@miyuhpapayuh@mogul93 @kindofaintrovert@blowmymbackout @mcondance @kindofanenigma

[physalian]

IngramSpark: Good or Nah?

I decided to work with them last minute to set my book up for success, and, in case they screwed me over, I could hate them in a properly informed manner.

So!

IngramSpark (IGS) vs. Amazon (KDP) so far: A detailed comparison.

Spoiler Alert: FUCK INGRAMSPARK

Alrighty these are two proof copies (author copies) of the exact same book made with the exact same PDFs. IGS is on the left in all pics.

Stuff to note:

The IGS copy is slightly greener, the purple is less vibrant. KDP made the exact colors I painted this with in photoshop.

The KDP book is slightly thicker and while the spine print is slightly off center, the front cover is perfectly centered. Compare both of the lower moons on the right side and it's very obvious that IGS cut theirs incorrectly. It's cut incorrectly because their paper is thinner, thus needing a slightly narrower print PDF (which isn't something they would tell you).

KDP is slightly thicker because they used thicker paper. Theirs is less polished creme, you can feel more of a grain of the pages, but because they're thicker, they're less transparent. I can read straight through to not only the back of the title page, but straight onto the next piece of paper for the IGS copy, and theirs cost more to print.

KDP shipped in lighter packaging, which meant my copy got a little banged up as opposed to the cardboard coffin the IGS book was in. Pick your poison.

KDP

PROS

A breeze to work with in most areas. I did not need to use customer service, so I can’t comment on that, but I’ve heard it’s superior to IGS in every way. They do have a community chat that I have used when confused (more below) and pages upon pages of how-to resources.

Simple user interface, very easy to click through all the set-up menus and not once did it freeze or crash on me (more below).

Did not use their formatter or cover generator, I used Adobe and did my own so I can’t comment on their quality.

Their “print previewer” was fantastic. I could click through the whole book and they explained very thoroughly where some issues were and what I should look out for and they let me use my own files without issue instead of having to build them in the platform.

Their royalty rate is the best you can get in this industry, because they’re not selling to anyone but themselves so there’s no middle man taking a cut of the profit.

Print quality of the book itself is fantastic. Only thing I miss is the ability to emboss, but no print-on-demand company does that as far as I’m aware. The colors were an exact match to my design in Adobe, I have no complaints.

Instant reports and near-live report refreshes for ebooks. Print copies don’t register on reports until the book ships, but Amazon prints and ships within ~2 days.

Because it’s Amazon, even though proof copies aren’t applicable with Prime, my copy still got here in 5 days including print time. My print copy totaled the print cost plus $3 in standard shipping that I could have rushed.

It did get a little banged up on the bottom but I think that was during shipping not at the printing press.

If you’re really strapped for cash, they do offer free ISBNs *but these are KDP only ISBNs, you don’t own them, and they are non transferable between vendors and POD companies. Bite the bullet and just save up for your own ISBNs and buy them in bulk if you can and you plan on publishing at least 2 books in your lifetime (like a paperback and hardcover of the same book, even).

After I submitted my ebook for preorder, I kept finding little details to fix and lines I wasn’t happy with that got nixed at the 11th hour. Updating this was seamless and free and the updated versions were processed within 6 hours or so. Amazon did not lock in the files to the date the preorders were set like IngramSpark would have.

CONS

They still don’t have paperback preorder, but they do have a feature where you can submit for a future release, which is just giving your files over to go live on a set date. Thing is: When you get to the end of the setup, there’s a button that says something like “submit for publication” which does not actually mean “move your publication date to right now” like I thought. So I missed my paperback date by 2 days.

Their proof copy has that annoying grey “Not for Resale” stripe across the cover so it looks wonky in marketing images.

They have a “cover art size calculator” feature, which did not line up with the actual file size I needed come submission time, off by a few millimeters. Which meant resizing in Photoshop and it was incredibly annoying and tedious.

Upon finally hitting the “publish” button Amazon flagged my book and told me to fix the highlighted errors. Well there were no highlighted errors, and said error(s) could be anywhere across four pages of details. I had to consult the community notes to figure out what they were talking about (it was an ISBN issue) which was quite annoying.

IGS

PROS

Well-known as the best print-on-demand (POD) company with the widest reach, including Amazon, for expanded distribution. (NOT IN MY EXPERIENCE)

Also well-known as the highest quality self-publish paperback, that still doesn’t do embossing. (NOT IN MY EXPERIENCE)

They do paperback preorders (which I did not participate in).

Integrates flawlessly with libraries and retailers that Amazon won’t do (which is about its only claim to superiority). My book was searchable on Barnes & Noble within 48 hours.

IGS, like KDP, has free ISBNs (US only), with the exact same non-transferable issue. However, because they integrate across all sellers, Amazon included, if you only intend to work with them, you’ve reached every market anyway.

CONS

Their royalty rate sucks ass. I had to price my book $1 higher through IGS because I was literally at a deficit with all the printing costs and vendor discounts (so if you want my book for slightly cheaper, buy it through Amazon). Through IGS, I think I’m making about $1 in royalties, when all is said and done. And I’ve heard, shockingly, that that’s pretty good.

I didn’t try to use their customer service because I know it’s notoriously terrible. But it would have been helpful when their website crashed.

Their website crashed on me three times when trying to upload my files. Before it crashed, their “submit files” button simply did not work, so I had to go the roundabout way through their formatter and cover wizard (which I didn’t like) which then told me my 300DPI cover art was too small. The exact same file I submitted and had in my hands at perfect resolution to Amazon. It took almost 2 hours of running around in circles on their site to essentially start from scratch to get this up and running—and I did all of this with polished files from the get go because I knew revisions would be tedious. Can’t imagine the hassle if you aren’t ready to go immediately (this is why I didn't do a preorder with them).

I have heard that if you make changes to your files, they don’t go into effect until the next month, meaning if you have typos, and anyone buys your book before the next calendar month despite you fixing them in the system, that person is still buying the old version. I have also heard that generating reports is not seamless. After 60 days, revisions also cost you $25 a pop (KDP is free).

If you submit pre-made PDFs for your manuscript and cover (as in, you don’t format or generate them within their system) they do not have an instant previewer. Mine took 48 hours to deliver a link, when that shit should be automated and instantaneous and should allow me to use my own files.

IGS does not have Amazon’s monopoly on shipping, so to get my book here at all quickly, it cost me almost $20, rush fees applied for only 1 day faster than Amazon did. “Quickly,” being I ordered the proof on the 24th, and it won’t get here until the 28th. Meaning, that if you’re not paying rush fees, you’d have to wait longer.

They can be quite confusing with revisions during the preorder process. Per their website, they can begin printing your book “generally” 30 days before go-live. Which means someone who preordered your book on the 3rd gets the version of the book that was available on the 3rd, even if you update it on the 5th, because they print those immediately, even if the book’s official release date of the 30th hasn’t passed. You’d pretty much have to be completely done with revisions before setting up for preorder with them to be absolutely sure, which means wasted time. I don’t know why they don’t just queue up the books to be printed on a hard deadline a few days before release.

So. While I hate that Amazon has a monopoly, about the only thing IGS has going for it is their expanded distribution when everything about their business, from their platform to their user experience to the actual quality of books is at best dead even with KDP, but in my experience with my best foot forward, IGS annoyingly inferior.

I don’t think they’ll remain the “best POD company” for very much longer. I did not do hardcover for ENNS as of this post so I can’t comment on either service’s print quality, only what I’ve seen in other reviews. Some people like the jacket-less print-on-the-cardboard look (Amazon), some people (me) like the jacket, if only so I can use it as a bookmark.

*I wrote the above paragraphs before getting my proof copy from IGS and fucking hell they're not even competent at printing

It is also a massive waste of paper and shipping resources to have to print multiple versions of proof copies fixing errors outside of my control. My proof copy from KDP is perfect. IGS? Nope! But they wouldn't let me properly preview it so I had no idea this would happen.

Even as a consumer who might hate the idea of giving Amazon more money, there’s an argument to consider: I totally understand the desire to keep brick and mortar stores afloat and I don’t want Amazon’s monopoly on the market to grow even larger. However, Amazon makes sure that you’re making more than pocket change on your book, unless you jack up the prices for readers on the back end so the whole thing costs more all the way down the pipeline. I refused to do this.

That deficit that forced me to price ENNS even $1 higher than Amazon really bothers me with IngramSpark. That deficit exists because of a higher print cost and a 55% discount given to vendors so they can still make their cut of profit from stocking your book. IngramSpark had me sit through a whole video saying “if you don’t do this no one will stock your book” while saying you could go as low as 54% but that might scare off vendors.

In essence, at this time, KDP makes sure that you, the creator, make money. IGS makes sure that they and the businesses selling your book for you make money. I didn’t do any of this for profit, but it does hurt seeing all your hard work, possibly years of effort, have a royalty of $0.87.

So, yeah, is IngramSpark worth it?

I don’t yet know what their reach will amount to. It’s a dream of mine to see my book on a bookstore shelf, but signing up with IGS does not guarantee you sales, it just guarantees you the best chance possible at reaching potential buyers. But at the moment, all it looks like to me is fees, a bad UI, cheap printing, arrogance from perceived superiority in the market, and a business built boldly in favor of its own profits.

Amazon’s a shady-ass corporation, but I’m going to have to say they’re the better bet. At the very least, for your first book when you don’t have an audience and if making a profit is important to you.

—

I did not try to use any other POD like Draft 2 Digital or Barnes & Noble Press, as I already have KDP and IGS is the best platform to integrate with KDP.

See here for the cost breakdown of my debut novel from draft to publication.

[specialinterestshows]

Enjoy chapter 69 😏 of my Rhea Ripley x lady!reader fic, Absolute Smokeshow.

Warnings for this section: Group sex, spanking, dirty talk, praise, small penis humiliation, humiliation/degradation, collaring

-

Absolute Smokeshow (Part 69 of ?): R+D+Me

“On your feet, slut, and bend over the bed,” Rhea ordered, sliding out of her pants and underwear. You felt two pairs of eyes watching your naked form as you stood and bent at the waist, touching your hands to the sheets. Rhea slid onto the bed in front of you, scooting closer just as Dom grabbed your ass and whispered “fuck.”

“You can service both of us at once, can’t you, slut?” Rhea asked, spreading her legs apart as Dominik grabbed the lube, “Now be a doll and give Mami your mouth.”

Wordlessly, you opened up and stuck out your tongue, beaming when you were praised for it.

“Ah!” you moaned in surprise at the firm slap Dom gave your ass before Rhea’s wet, pink folds ran into your mouth. Another moan buzzed on your lips just from tasting her - how refreshing it was to indulge in what you so frequently craved.

“Fuck yes,” Rhea breathed as you set your tongue to work, a cool, slick feeling greeting you from the other end.

“Let me know if it’s too much, perrita,” Dom told you, teasing you with his tip.

“That pathetic little thing?” Rhea scoffed at the instruction as you kept going, “I would be surprised if she could even feel it.”

An involuntary whimper fell from Dominik’s mouth.

“You’re right, Mami,” he agreed, clutching your hip with one hand as he gauged the best angle to enter you.

Keeping the rhythm you had going with your mouth started taking more and more of your concentration as Dom gradually slid inside you.

Stifling the sounds of your pleasure was the last thing on your mind as Dominik began thrusting, but Rhea certainly didn’t seem to mind the moans peppering your lip service.

“Mmm, you can go faster than that, Dom-Dom” she said between soft moans, gripping your hair, “Really give it to her - Mami wants to feel more vibrations from her easy little fucktoy.”

“Yes, Mami,” he grunted, obediently thrusting faster and a bit harder.

Rhea’s moans were soon accompanying your muffled ones as you gripped the sheets, trying to keep your writhing and twitching to a minimum as you neared your orgasm.

“Turn her over,” your domme ordered, holding your head in place as she pulled away and smiling at your disappointed face when your tongue reached forward longingly, “Mami wants to enjoy both her collared bitches at once.”

Dominik somehow managed to stay inside you, turning you onto your back quickly and resting your legs on his shoulders. Something caught you off guard about the sweet, caring way Dom was looking down at you. His face was flushed, a slight sheen of sweat on his brow from all that the three of you had done so far, and you were cockwarming him at the moment - but the way he smiled and held your gaze was so… gentle.

Unsure how to react, you were thankful when one smooth, swift leg swung over you, blocking Dominik from view for a moment as Rhea straddled your face before lowering herself onto your mouth.

“You don’t have to pause on my account,” she said, and you heard the soft sound of metal against metal as Rhea presumably held Dom by his collar, “Keep fucking her, pretty boy.”

You were enjoying the way your girlfriend tasted and having her ass in your face far too much to be paying attention to what she said; the sudden pleasure you felt as Dom thrust in and out of you once more made you grip Rhea’s thighs to keep her close to your mouth. It took a moment for you to realize that the tempo between your legs felt so good, you were matching the rhythm with your mouth.

Whimpering moans punctuated the air.

“That’s it, just focus on how good she feels,” Rhea cooed as your muffled sounds increased with Dom’s rhythm, “Wouldn’t you just love to come inside of her?”

“Please, Mami!” he moaned urgently, grabbing your tits as he whimpered, “I’m getting close!”

Even though it hadn’t happened yet, being reminded that he could come inside you at any moment - that Rhea could make a mess on your face as well - made you finally give into a wave of pleasure that rapidly swept through you. Every sensation was made sweeter with your release as Dom and Rhea continued their conversation above you.

“You can wait a bit for Mami, can’t you?” she replied, her voice making you come just a bit harder before Dominik slowed down a bit and you went into aftershocks, “So we can come at the same time?”

“I’ll try,” he huffed, keeping a restrained pace.

“What a good little boytoy,” Rhea praised between moans of her own, “That’s right, keep your eyes on Mami.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, dripping sweat onto your stomach with every other movement, “Getting close again.”

“Just… a little bit… longer,” she moaned, and you felt Dominik’s thrusts become more erratic, “Fuck… come for Mami, bitch.”

The loud moan that began in Dom’s throat was cut off by what you could only assume was the two of them kissing as you did your best to swallow the cum that gushed into your mouth, a growing warmth inside you making you raise your hips to savor it.

When both of them had finished, Rhea lifted herself off you and the first thing you saw was her enormous grin.

“How was that for you, babes?” she asked you both, giggling at your surprised moan when Dom pulled out.

“Wow,” was all you could say after licking your lips clean, still coming down from being cumdrunk.

“Such a good girl,” Rhea praised, making you bite your lip, “Dom-Dom?”

“Maravilloso,” he replied, eyes flitting back to you for a second before continuing, “Can we do this more often?”

Taking note of your pleading eyes, Rhea laughed, “Both of my darlings at once, more than once? I could never turn down an offer like that.”

Grabbing her panties off the floor, she shimmied into them before getting comfortable on the bed and opening her arms invitingly.

“Now c’mere!”

[end part sixty-nine of ?]

Part 70: https://www.tumblr.com/specialinterestshows/748406942351982592/absolute-smokeshow-part-70-of-demons-in-her

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Tag list (thank you!)

@littlemiss-fanficlover , @babybatlover , @girlofpink , @kagome2909 , @domripley , @wiccanpriestess , @falloutboy-lover , @aut0luminescence , @riverina69 , @itsrheasgirl , @1-800-sinister

[tokiro07]

Undead Unlcuk ch.186 thoughts

[Just Like Mama Used to Make]

(Contents: thematic analysis - artistic expression)

Before I say anything else, I just want to note how hard that one bystander saying "what the fuck?" made me laugh. That killed me. With how much wild shit the Union gets up to, it's refreshing to see someone not only witness it, but actually acknowledge it. I still wonder how the audience for Feng's martial arts tournament reacted to all of the weird fights

I also want to point out that in this loop, Enjin's iconic ripped hat look is created from him being thrown through the wall of his mother's hospital room. I'm sure there was some cool story to it originally, but nope, this time he just...biffed a landing, s'all. As usual, no dignity in this series

Onto the chapter, I figured that this chapter was going to continue to expand on the idea of togetherness using food as a symbol like last week, but nope! We're movin' on! Instead of examining how the act of eating can deepen bonds, this week we're examining the difference between mass appeal and individual experience

Enjin's ramen, made with refined technique, is "objectively" good food that pretty much anyone will say is tasty, but aside from the opportunity for custom orders like "extra toppings" or "light on the X," the overall dish is always the same. Without any direct input, Enjin will always produce the same meal, with the expectation that it's so high quality that no one could possibly dislike it. This approach is not necessarily wrong, as consistency is an important factor in food service, but it does mean that if there's any one factor that any one customer doesn't like, they won't end up enjoying it because it doesn't match with their personal taste

It's kind of like if a manga starts out with one of the main leads sexually harassing the other. Sure, the manga as a whole may be great, possibly even the best among its contemporaries, but some people just aren't going to be able to get past that initial bad taste in their mouth. No matter how good the end product is, someone is going to slip through the cracks

Someone isn't going to be able to stand how hot the broth is, someone isn't going to like the mushrooms or the bamboo shoots, and someone isn't going to appreciate seeing a girl get groped by a man whose dick is flopping in the wind. This is an unavoidable truth in the creative process: there is no such thing as perfect. There will always be flaws, and there will always be detractors, but there will also always be fans willing to stand by the art and declare that it's their absolute favorite

This is where Fuuko's ramen comes in: even if only two people out of...what, fifty people(?) liked it, what matters is that the person it was meant for liked it. The point was to show Enjin that no amount of refinement would be able to capture everyone's hearts, but any amount of consideration would capture the heart of the one person it's meant to. Luckily there was another person present who fit in that same niche to drive the point home, but even without that child, I think Enjin would have gotten the point

When it comes to art, you sometimes need to ignore the instinct to try to appeal to anyone and instead focus on creating the thing that you want, the thing that will make you happy. You will run the risk of alienating basically everyone, but by being honest and forthright in how you express yourself, you'll eventually find someone who your work truly resonates with

Fuuko's touch-starved isolation, Andy's hedonistic depression, Billy's stoic responsibility, Rip's dual loves...these aren't things that everyone can relate to, even if they can sympathize. But to someone who feels isolated, who tries to fight against crushing despair with a plastered smile, who bears the weight of the world on their shoulders, or knows what it's like to love more than others say they should, these things will all ring true, and make that reader feel like someone, somewhere finally understands, like someone said all the things they wish they could if they only had the talent or the time

To me, this chapter isn't about cooking, it's about the act of creation. It's about the act of sharing your soul with the world around you and knowing that you resonated with even just one person, and knowing that that one person's world has changed for the better. It's about the act of receiving a piece of someone and being able to smile back at them, telling them that the message has been received

Maybe this won't be what anyone else sees. Maybe this chapter will come across as lukewarm to somebody, maybe even to most people. Maybe it was mediocre at best to someone and they'd prefer something with a bit more of a kick. But someone, maybe just one person, was able to really sink their teeth into this one and savor all of the ingredients, the love and the care that went into creating this piece. Someone was moved to tears, and someone looks at the world just a little differently now thanks to this chapter

Until next time, let's enjoy life

[sucrows]

hi! S, U, Z and Y for Adonis and/or Eichi if that's okay! - 🦭

Thank you for the correction! Also, assuming you want to be 🦭 anon now based on you signing off with it, yes? :0 

(NSFW UNDER CUT)

[S] STAMINA: 

His stamina is unfortunately low. He can’t even go that many rounds either. He tries to make up for it by spending a lot of time on foreplay or by using toys but that’s probably going to be where most of the time is spent. He wishes he could go longer, but his body just can’t. Though...If you wanted to ride him or fuck him into tomorrow while he lays limp beneath you shooting blanks, he’d be so into that. 

[U] UNFAIR: 

Highly. He’s an extreme tease. Messing with you is his favorite way of initiating sex, of course it follows him all the way through the event. Between his words and his actions, it’s almost like he’s edging you. He’ll hold toys to your sex, whisper the dirtiest things into your ears, drag his mouth up and down your body... and then suddenly stop and look at you innocently to ask you if it’s enough.  

[Y] YEARNING: 

He has a fairly low sex drive. He’s often much too busy or tired to even think about sex. Between his general life and his health issues he ends up not initiating much at all. He’d love to match your sex drive but you’re just gonna have to accept that he’s going to have to kick back and relax sometimes. 

[S] STAMINA: 

Quite high! He has a lot of control and knows how to pace himself. While he can go more than one round, he aims to make them as satisfied as possible by the end of the first. He tends towards slower paces with sensual movements that make every minute seem longer and more full of emotion. With this slower pace and the amount of time he spends focusing on his partner, it’s an experience that’ll have them feeling refreshed by the end. 

[U] UNFAIR: 

Not in the slightest. Service top alert! He likes to make you feel good and happy and doesn’t want to hold back anything. If you ask, you will receive with him. He’s such a sweet guy, he takes it in stride if you were to do it to him, but you’ll probably not get the reaction you want. He'll look at you with big, sad eyes if you deny him. He’s quite patient and obedient though so he’ll wait through any teasing you throw at him. Don’t be too mean to him or he’ll hold your hand and ask you “... Please?” in the saddest tone of voice possible and how are you supposed to resist that? 

[Y] YEARNING: 

Lower sex drive. While he is down to go at it most of the time, it’s rare that the urge will hit him first before his partner. His sex drive might appear lower than it actually is to his partner because he’s also really unlikely to bother them if he’s in the mood. He probably would see you doing literally anything and would dub that more worthy of your time than his arousal.