#step 1 foam at the mouth

[aalt-ctrl-del]

i am so tired

I really cant use the slep

does anyone have a user manual? Do I turn it on then off?

[virgo-barbie]

bimbo starter kit ✨💖

it can take a while for a bimbo to feel comfortable with cosmetic procedures, or even just to secure the necessary finances to take the next step in her journey! here are a list of things you can start on right away while you figure out the rest.

1. exercise! a bimbo's body is her best weapon. try to aim for a couple times a week at least. if you don't like running, try pilates, yoga, dance, anything. it's just important that you feel connected to your body in some way.

2. spray tans! for me, this really amps up my sex appeal. my skin has a golden hue that a spray tan really brings out. if i don't have time to go get professionally tanned biweekly, i'll use a tanning mousse instead. it gives a similar effect, but the spray tan is a bit more realistic.

3. manicure and pedicure! what is a bimbo without her claws? i personally love having acrylic nails. i don't have them right now because i can't have acrylics when i go in for my breast augmentation, but i almost always do otherwise. i like barbie pink or long white claws. both are very feminine and look great wrapped around the base of a cock or squeezing a beautiful boobie! having your toes done is also important - nobody wants to suck on and lick mangled feet, and you need to be prepared to be worshipped at any point in time.

4.new clothes! i literally threw everything out and started fresh with a wardrobe of basics. 5 pairs of tiny short shorts, about 20 basic tops in pink, white, and black. I am working my way up towards more exciting statement pieces and building up my shoe and purse collection, but this all takes time. In the meantime, you need clothes that look good on your body and show off your best assets. after my breast augmentation, i will be getting a bunch of new clothes from brands like skims, alo, for love & lemons, etc. for my more bimboish pieces, i kind of just shop around, but i think it's important to have a ton of basic pieces so you can create endless outfits. the mini skirts, fur coats and heels can come later - once you have things to wear them with that make you look super stylish and more importantly... show off your body.

5. get your hair done professionally! most bimbos like to be blonde (myself included) and unless you're already blonde to start with, i see absolutely no reason you should do this at home. save up some money and find a hair stylist in your town who specializes in blonde hair. you won't regret it, and there's nothing bimbo about having crusty, fried hair. if you're not certain if blonde is the best route for you (it probably is), ask a stylist! pink also looks adorable on bimbos with a more cutesy y2k style. a good haircut with some face framing layers can also completely change your whole look.

6. whiten your teeth! invest in a whitening foam and tray, or just use strips. i've had a similar effect with both.

7. get good with fake eyelashes! they elevate any makeup look from fresh to sexy. once you've had lip filler, lip gloss and lipstick will also become your new best friend.

8. silly little accessories! may i suggest a pink lollipop or bubblegum? this will help keep the attention on your perfect little mouth all day and will also give you something cute to distract yourself with while you fantasize about being used out in public.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Members Only 1

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, cheating, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

“Tommy knows the owner,” Grace trills as she leads you upstairs, “he’s around here somewhere, I’m sure.” 

“Right,” you follow her up into the violet-tinted lighting of the private room, “Mr. Shelby must know a lot of people.” 

“Mm, yes, that is the upside of our marriage. There isn’t a single restaurant or shop in this city where they don’t know his name,” she boasts as you stop at the door and she struts across to the slender bar. She hums, a hint of disapproval in her tone, and she pops the cork of the bottle. “That and the drinks.” 

She catches the foam from the neck in her mouth, her lipstick staining the torn edge of the golden seal. She gulps and puts the bottle down, blotting her lips with her knuckles. She turns and strolls around the curved sofa and looks through the windows that peer into the flashing club. 

“Pour me a glass,” she demands, “it isn’t my brand but good enough.” 

You obey. Mrs. Shelby is very precise in what she wants. She never leaves you in need of further directive. Your previous employer often expected you to know what they wanted without saying so. That stint did not last very long. 

The private room is decorated in silver and gold banners, vases filled with matching confetti, and an ivory cake with a big ‘40’ mounted on top. The decor clashes with the rest of the club. This isn’t a refined venue, it’s a place where coeds come to wile away their weekends. 

You fill a stemmed glass with champagne and bring it to Grace as she toys with a pale blonde wave. She is a pretty woman. She has all the elegance her name would suggest. Still, there is a staunchness to her that keeps you diligent. 

“Hmm, I do wonder why my husband is so fond of this place,” she tuts, “though I might guess it.” 

You peer down at the writhing bodies dancing below. Skimp skirts, crop tops, flirty moves; it isn’t your sort of place and you didn’t think it was hers either. She turns and struts away, sitting on the sofa to nurse her champagne flute. You turn to face her, staying by the windowed wall. 

“I won’t complain. Charlotte will appreciate the effort. It might even bring back a few memories for her,” Grace continues on, twirling the glass between her fingers. “The rest of the ladies should be content enough with the champagne and—oh my, please, go to the kitchen and inquire after the appetizers. I was promised brie and crustinis.” 

She sighs as you move for the door and she slurps loudly. As you reach the door, you hear her mutter, “...ever trust him...” 

You leave her there, wallowing with her golden nectar. It is no secret that the Shelby’s are facing marital woes. Even beyond the scope of Mrs. Shelby’s personal assistant, it’s obvious. Their last dinner party erupted in an argument which had their social circle whispering even months later. She blamed the alcohol and he blamed her. 

You find your way to the kitchen, past the burly man serving drinks behind the upper tier bar. You’re permitted past upon the mention of your employer’s name. Within, a man lines trays with tidy hor d’ouevres. Despite his greasy apron, his work looks no different than the private chefs that often serve the Shelbys. 

You hate to ask but you have to. Your ‘when’ is met with a ‘soon’ which sounds more like ‘can’t you see?’ You thank the cook and quickly retreat.  

As you get back to the stairs, you see Mona, Lilian, and Charlotte. The latter looks confused at her surroundings. She has no idea why she’s there. The surprise has worked. You linger then follow up a few steps behind. 

You can hear the furor as you approach the door. Charlotte’s squealing and as you enter, unseen, she hugs Grace who looks more irked then endeared by the embrace. Your employer’s eyes lock onto you and he gestures to you. You serve the other ladies; Charlotte first as guest of honour. 

“This is quaint,” Mona preens. 

“It’s exactly Charlotte’s taste,” Grace snipes, “if only you’d known her twenty years ago--” 

“Grace, I am a married woman now. No need to bring up the past,” Charlotte girds. 

“Oh, tell me the first note of Britney won’t have you undone,” Grace challenges as she lets you refill her glass. 

The woman chirp and giggle. Your employer faces you, “well?” 

“The cook is finishing up. They’ll be here shortly,” you keep your voice low, an expert at not disturbing the others. 

“Mm, it better be worth it.” 

You don’t mention that it hasn’t cost her anything. It’s isn’t your place to say so, or to speak unless spoken to. Some may think your job oppressive but you don’t mind so much. It’s easy to be told what to do. You’ve never been very good at decisions. 

She sips and scrunches up her nose, “ugh, this isn’t dry enough. Go, find my brand. Ugh, he knows what I prefer and he just doesn’t care.” 

“Yes, miss,” you take her glass as she hands it over and you leave it on the bar. It’s miss, not ma’am. Ma’am makes her feel old. When her birthday comes around, it will be her fifth fourtieth soiree. 

You leave the room again and venture back down. You go to the bar and wave your hand at the tall, blond bartender. He nods to show he’s seen you as he continues to serve his current customer. You wait, bobbing impatiently. He forgets you as a flurry of babbling young girls approach from the other side. He takes their orders and you sigh. You put your hand up again. 

“Oi,” a voice sounds from behind you and a whistle cuts through the thrumming din. The bartender turns and his blue eyes flicker in the club lights. He nears, looking behind you, almost through you. 

“Mr. Shelby,” he greets. You tense and glance behind you. It’s him. Thomas Shelby. Your boss’ husband. In essence, he is your boss, he pays your bills. 

“She’s been waiting,” he points down at you. 

“Of course, sir, apologies,” the bartender looks down at you, “what can I do for you?” 

“Er, I'm looking for champagne. A specific brand--” 

“Taittinger,” Mr. Shelby calls over your head. 

You nod in agreement. That’s the one. He knows but he didn’t have it in the room. Is his wife correct in his disregard or was it merely an oversight? 

“Quickly,” Shelby demands and shoos the bartender with his fingers. “My wife is here?” 

You face him and confirm his assumption. 

“Mm, I forgot it was tonight,” he says, though you hardly hear him over the music. 

You don’t know what to say. There isn’t anything to say. You rarely, if ever, speak to Mr. Shelby. You’re usually just treated as part of the decor. 

“Keep an eye on her for me,” he reaches past you as the bartender returns and he takes the bottle of champagne, “better get this to her at once. Guard it with your life,” he intones as he stares you down, “she does prize her little indulgences.” 

“Yes, sir, thank you,” you make sure he can hear you above the pulsing noise. 

He tilts his head and steps aside, “on you go.” 

[styxwanderer]

The Wrong Fake Identity | Twisted Wonderland [pt.6]

part 1 Part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 <part 6> part 7

[A for Abduction, B for Bribery]

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙˚*

Word of you secured in the dragon’s and his herds arms spread wide. Some were brought to despair, some are brought to joy, some are brought to anger, some are even more determined.

“Of course the final boss would be the dragon, but there is nothing me a genius can’t do hehe..”

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

“Silver! How do i look!” You enthusiastically walked up to him, now dressed in the black and green uniform. 

“..it.. it looks good on you, y/n.” The precious boy stammered. His unique orb staring at you.

You had no idea why, but you felt yourself wanting to hug the silver haired boy, or maybe sleep on top of him. You just need to get him to lie down first.

“Come, we should show father and malleus!” 

“Alright.”

You intertwined your hand with his as you cling to him. Silver was shocked out of his mind from your boldness, even more so when you started purring in his hold, but he wouldn’t mind it either, it’s just a matter of keeping his heart steady that he mind. He could bow hear his heart beating in his ears, he just hope his complexion is not as obvious as his heart is.

“We are back father, Malleus.” 

“Oo welcome back—“ the both of them stood shock at your close proximity with silver, even so when you start to rub your cheeks against his biceps. 

“Aaa~ it seems this little kitty is very attached to you silver, after all you had been very good with animals.” Lilia can’t decide if he should be proud of his son or be jealous that he is favored by you. He had agreed to share you, but that doesn’t mean you can have favorites amongst them. 

Malleus was jealous, he had known you longer than silver but why must you choose silver? That’s alright, he would just prove to you that he is much kore deserving of your favour than the silver haired boy. 

“Child of man…” sitting in his throne, he called to get your attention, trying to get you to come to him. 

You ignored him, silence filled the room making silver sweat a drop, not wanting to offend his Leige. This makes malleus hurt.

“Come kitty, you can’t act so spoiled. When your king called you, you need to acknowledge him.” Lilia pried you off his son, sensing the jealousy that bubbles up the dragon fae.

“Malleus hold this.” Lilia throw a mouse toy connected to a string. This caught your attention, you begun to approach the dragon.

“Oh?! You wanted to approach me now that i have this? Interesting indeed.” Malleus swish the stick back and forth. Your head, of course follow. 

You leap to the toy trying to catch it, but Malleus had retracted the toy to his hand holding it. Your eyes remain slitted as you readied yourself.

“Oh?”

You pounced to his lap shocking the trio. In a reflective movement, malleus had stretched the hand to the air, and accidentally dropped it. 

“Oh no-“

You being a spoiled naughty cat you are deciding the best course of action is to jump over malleus, your feet stepping on top of his head, between his horn and leaped behind him to catch your prized mouse.

“Nyaa~” you meowed amused with your catch. The room once again become silent, 

“Ahahahahahha, how brazen this cat is, i have never had anybody even dared to think of stepping my head. Me, the heir to the briar valley. How amusing~”

“Hahahha.. if sebek is here he will either foam in his mouth, or have a mental breakdown, maybe both.” Lilia laugh

Silver too joined in, finding your boldness endearing and adorable, he wouldn't mind  if you had stepped on his head too. 

you returned to Malleus lap, finding it comfortable enough, this had made Malleus ecstatic tho he tried his best to hide it. you finding your foot print to be dirty and half guilty over your action decided you need to clean your mistake, you licked the top of his head grooming his hair back to its proper state. 

a prince can't have a messy hair! 

"oh my! your bravery is very admirable! The soldier in briar valley ought to learn a thing ir two from you." lilia mused

"lilia.."

"hmm.."

"how long does it take to plan a wedding.”

“Ohh my! Well it might take a year or two. But with a skillful fae it could take a day or two.”

“Malleus, is it not too early? We are still at school.” Silver chirped in.

“Doesn’t matter, they had accepted me as hers.”

“But-“

Malleus haul you up and spins you around. The blushing fae is spinning the room with you, still confused of the situation and more preoccupied with the toy in your hand:

“We shall be wed And have a kid or two. Our wedding would be the most magical! What a dream come true~”

Even though silver and lilia are a bit jealous that Malleus are abled to gain the title your husband, they wouldn’t mind at all since a king’s job would be plenty, and of course there should be somebody looking over you while your beloved husband is away. 

With Malleus preoccupied to plan the wedding he have silver and lilia to look over you, your over energetic drive have driven both lilia and silver out of their energy. 

“Oh no..” silver said mid playing as he felt himself getting drowsy and drowsier. Then  silver passed out on the floor.

“Noo.. you can’t leave me Silver, haaa-“ 

Lilia looked back at you thinking he have to continue to play with you alone but to his surprise you just walked toward silver before curling up on top of his abs and enjoying the boy’s warmth.

“ i guess the whole cat mouse game had also tire you out.” 

A rumble in your stomach became a bell to lilia.

“Oh! You are hungry too? What a demanding kitty, what can i do? I shall make you a grand fiest.” 

You were about to protest but all is too late since lilia bolted out of the room.

“I should just topple the plate over once he comes back for bow i shall enjoy this nice pillow” you thought.

“Psst…”

“PSSSSTTTTTTT…..”

There is a voice again, you looked around to find the source. A hand then came out of the big door.

“Come here kitty kitty kitty~~~” it whispered 

“What is this smell?” You thought 

“It smell, so… so very..”

“Nice!” 

You bolted towards the door to find the source of such delectable smell.

“Idia?? Nice to see you here! Also.. heyy~ what’s that sticking all over you? It smells so good~” 

You grow closer and closer to the guy sniffing him up and down. Idia is standing nervously, he had somehow managed to stick a lot of catnip all around his clothes hair and body, stuffing as much as he can inside under his jacket of course.

“It..it doesn’t matter, the smell, its just something special for you..” his voice getting lower towards the end.

“Ohh! Idia you are the best!” You hugged the now pink flame haired boy. 

“Eh uhm not really.. haha.. so you would want to come with me righht? Ill give you lots of these if you come with me.” The nerveous boy had somehow snapped his personality to a cocky bastard. 

“Yess! YES! Where should we go?” 

“Just follow me!” 

You are latching yourself to Idia as you give his occasional rub on his neck, his arm, his chest, sniffing the delectable smell. 

You had been successfully stolen by the timid boy. 

Once malleus and lilia came back and finding the passed out silver and not a single strand of your hair in sight, a thunder roars through diasomnia. This snaps Silver out of his dream. 

“FIND HER, and punish those who dare to steal from me!” 

“Yes, malleus.”

“What is this smell?” 

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

Meanwhile in Ignihyde,

“Awhh whose the good kitty?” 

“Me! Me!” 

You had a brad new collar, a blue triangle patterned collar with a beautiful silver charm, which engraved “ property of Idia, please return” on the back side of it. You are given a comfortable ignihyde uniform. You are nuzzling Idia in his room, enjoying the comfort of his body and the addictive smell. 

You hug him close rubbing yourself everywhere around his body, sniffing him close. You can never get enough of his smell. 

“I am the best, i am a genius. Not even the final boss can win against my brilliance” Idia thought, patting himself on the back for his brilliant idea. No body could rival his brilliance he manically laugh inside. 

He decided to play his  game in his bed as you latch to his torso, sitting in his lap. The both of you comfortable with each other. A peck of pink flame always colouring Idia’s hair. 

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

“Ignihyde dorm leader had taken y/n away from him.” The news spread. 

“That guy?!!” Ace half-shouted shock.

“Well he is quite a cat lover, Still we have to get y/n back!” Grim grumbled

“HOW DARE HE STEAL THEM AWAY FROM MY LEIGE!!” 

“We hafta to et em back! “

“Uhmm.. to get them away from my brother.. is going to be quite hard..” Ortho ponders.

“A! Its because you are on his side isn’t it!” Ace accused.

“Not its not!! Its just the fact that Idia manage to steal them away from the final boss means that he also come prepared, like a final boss.”

“What ever would make them go with that guy.” Deuce ponders. 

“Delivery for Idia shroud.”

The five of them glanced back at the rabbit delivery courier. 

“Oh! Deuce! Nice to see you here.”

“Nice to see you too, can we help you with something.”

“Ah its just, do you know where to find idia shroud.”

“Oh yes he is my brother.”

“Is that so, well i got a package, I don’t know where to drop it off, he said he is going to meet me but i guess he lost track of time.”

“Geez typical of my brother.”

“Right i will just leave the package to you, please sign here.”

“Okay.”

“And here is your package.”

“Uwaaaaa!” Ortho almost tumble down as he try to hoist the package up. 

“What is this? Why is it so heavy!!”

The courier had already left probably in a hurry.

“ hey.. that’s idia’s right?” Grim said.

“Yes..”

“The  he must’ve building something that capture y/n or some defense! If we get to know what he is building then we can defeat the final boss eaze peaze right?” Grim smirked

“Oh! Nice thinking! Now open the package!” Epel enthusiasticly said. 

“Wait! No! If brother know you went through his stuff! He will be mad!!!” 

“What he doesn’t know wont bother him!” Ace smirked closing in on ortho who is trying to protect his brother’s package.

“YES ! LETS UNCOVER WHATEVER THAT HUMAN IS PLANNING ON! HURRY HAND IT OVER!” 

“Im sorry ortho but this is for the best.” 

“NOOoooo..”

Jack hauled the box out of Ortho’s grasp as he open it. 

“Eugh this smell. Ah!” Jack had accidentally thrown the box down. Letting it’s content to spill.

“Hey! Computer program is very delicate ya know!”

“It isn’t computer program.” Jack answered.

“Huh?” 

“AAAAHHH!!!” A collective gasp were heard.

“Catnip?!!” 

“THAT BASTARD Is bribing my henchhuman!” Grim fumed. Even though, it smelled good, if you aren’t there to serve him he rather not have it. 

“ THAT BASTARD ID DRUGGING THEM!” Deuce yelled.

“That’s rude! My brother is not that low! He must’ve used this … for other reasons… probably..” 

“WHATEVER! Now this is ours we can used it however we liked, even to lure a certain cat!” Epel smirked.

“Nice thinking! Human!” Sebek.

“Oh what’s with the commotion here?”

“AAAHH!! Its Riddle, Trey, and Carter!!” 

“It is certainly noisy around here.” Azul and the tweek appeared 

“ stop yapping already, and what is this smell?” Leona said wincing his nose. Ruggie walking aside, hand behind his head. 

“Ohhh!! Is there something going on here?” The scarabia duo come in. 

“ what a troublesome thing, epel i expected you to be more reserved around these miscreant. “ vil and room has also joined them.

“Oya oya? Is there some sort of meeting we are not invited into?” The diasomnia trio appeared. 

“Ah look its the traitor group.” Leona taunted.

“Whatever shall we do to a grouo of traitor.” Azul joined in.

“A beheaded sure is filling for the crimes of betrayal is it not.”

“Truly it is, afterall  a dog that bites the hand that feeds them needs to be punished.”

“EEEKH!” 

“Hahaha, don’t be too cruel now you two, now that item, it’s idia’s is ot not?”Azul chuckle 

“Ooo? He is building something to building a project?” Malleus questioned

“My brother’s business is none of your business!!”

“Plus it’s finder’s keepers so HANDS OFF!”

“Oh still dare to bark?”

“Ohh look at all those catnip.” Lilia suddenly show behind them.

“ARGHHHH!” 

“Malleus could this possibly the smell from before?”

“Hmm.. It Is! Haaa unexpected of shroud, he dared to enter the dragon’s territory and claim his bride/groom? How terrible.”

“Ha? Whose bride/groom?” Leona retorted.

“Of course they should be mine, None of you know how to take care of them properly!” Vil joined.

The seven of them tried to escape but were soon caught by the tall huge juniors.

“Where are you going noww? I havent squeeze you all yet~”

“Hahaha, that’s true, floyd needs his fill for today.”

“Stop this little pups..” 

The potionlogy came with Crowley who was tied and forced to go whereever he is, Sam, Vargas, and also Trein. 

“Stop fighting against each other for once we have greater problem.”

“What is it?”

The first year could only sigh and surrender to  whatever fate is to come.

After the explanation the second and third year felt like hunting and mauling the crow. 

“Eekh! I told you im sorry already! It’s not my fault —“

“Its your fault ya kno..” Sam interrupted.

Vargas is trying to calm the boiling crewel.

“Ha, we need to catch them before the inspector comes and give them the antidote to their potion.” Trein concluded.

“This package, idia’s package might’ve proven to be useful to us.” Crewel said

“we need to come up with a plan.”

“Haaa, im sorry brother.” 

[ Words 2505]

>> to be continued<<

.·:*¨༺ ❈ ༻¨*:·.

[ maybe i should add tw: druging LOL]

Taglist:

@agaygothicmushroom

@feverish-dove

@jjsmeowthie

@losingmybrain

@mysticcyan

@valentinaagarcia

@fancyhawk45

@ayanokomu

@mel-star636

@haveneulalie

@lanxianschoenheit

@wisteriarose214

[xxkissesforchanniexx]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐆𝐨 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭

Pairing: Chan x fem!reader (zombie apocalypse au) Word count: 1.4k Genre: >.> i guess you could call it a scenario but its a series...? Warning: Guns... i'm bad at describing bloody scenes just run with it, Chan is a bit of a dick, mentions of ateez members >.> i think thats all here...?

A/N: Han smut will be released later. Also thank you for 500 notes on 𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐎𝐧𝐞

Next

Chapter 1

You moved through the relatively quiet city. The world had gone silent a long time ago, since the thing started infecting people, they had claimed it to be a rabies mutation... but these people weren't dying to a fever or choking on their foam. They kept going, the only thing that would kill them was multiple shots to the brain, even that was risky, some of them didn't die to that anyway...

You saw a gas station that looked in fairly good condition, circling around the back, as you suspected, the staff door was open, you entered, gun at the ready, looking around you found most of the canned food gone but managed to find some chips, shoving them into your bag. You looked around the small store and made your way to the drink section, alcohol was gone, just your luck, you spotted a fairly large bottle of water on the very top shelf and jumped for it, cursing your height. You climbed the shelf and grabbed the water before jumping back down, squeezing it into your bag as you looked toward the medical area.

You looked around for pain killers, bandages, anything. Your eyes widened at the sight of one singular bottle of acetaminophen pills. You moved for it at the same time someone came around the corner. You put your gun up, the man put up his, eyes wide with fear. He wasn't too tall, with broad shoulders and a tired but sweet face.

"I kinda need that." He said, reaching for the pain killer.

You cocked your gun. "I don't think you do."

He pulled his hand back, his eyes registering you as a threat before he too cocked his gun. "You wouldn't understand."

"The world needs this shit." You huffed. "You're not the only one, plus I found it first."

He glared at you, dark eyes narrowing.

You turned as you heard something behind you. There was another man, with thin eyes and dark hair, his gun was also pointed at you.

"Chan." He said, his voice was fairly high. "Do you need some help?"

"Yeah." The first man said, grabbing the pain killers, it was a 2v1...

"You should leave," another voice made you look up, there was a thin but lean boy with bleach blonde hair on the shelf staring down at you.

The first man, Chan, looked at him. "Felix, get down before you hurt yourself.”  

The skinny boy on the shelf muttered and jumped down. The three had you surrounded. 

“Jeongin.” Felix motioned to your gun. “Disarm her.” 

The thin eyed boy, Jeongin, moved for your gun and you spun to aim at him, the first man, Chan, grabbed your arm tried to twist it, you elbowed him hard in the face, he cursed and stumbled, the third man, Felix, was about to jump on you when the sound filled the store. The groaning and heaved struggled breathing, you all froze in fear, a man missing half his face trudged into the gas station. You held your breath, it couldn’t see, both eyes were missing. Chan looked at you and motioned for you to stay silent, as if you were an idiot.  

You stood to your full height, quietly, gripping your gun tightly. Then the thin eyed boy, Jeongin, bumped into the shelf. The infected turned and started running towards the noise, the boy froze in fear and against your better judgement you grabbed his collar and pulled him back from the area. You slapped your hand over his mouth as the zombie waved its arms around before giving up and trudging away. 

Chan’s eyes were on you, wide and shocked.  

You released Jeongin and took slow steps back, pulling your mask over your face and running quietly out of the store through the back again. 

Chan was in shock, Felix was in shock, Jeongin was trembling as he tried to understand what just happened.  

“Who was that?” Felix asked, finally breaking the silence of the car. 

“I don’t know.” Chan squeezed the wheel tightly. “Jeongin.” 

The boy looked up.  

“What did I tell you about being careful?” Chan glared at him through the rearview mirror. 

“Sorry.” Jeongin said quietly. 

The car was silent again.  

After a moment Felix asked. “Did you get the pain killers?” 

“Yeah they’re-” Chan touched his jacket pocket, it was empty. He bristled. “What the fuck? They were in here.” 

Felix put his face in his hands. “Minho needs those.” 

“You think I don’t know that?” Chan grit his teeth as he remembered pulling your arm, you must’ve taken them from him then. 

“This isn’t fair.” Jeongin said quietly. “We just let her go.” 

“She saved your life.” Chan said. “Don’t bad mouth her for that.” 

The group went quiet again.  

They passed by a house where a tall man with big eyes came out running. 

“Chan-” Felix started. 

Chan pressed the gas. 

“We can help him-” Jeongin said before attempting to unlock his door. 

Chan put the child lock on. 

“Chan!” Jeongin shouted. 

The sound of a gunshot made Felix look back, his eyes widening. “It’s her!” 

Chan slammed the breaks and they screeched to a halt. He grabbed his gun and turned out of his window, seeing an infected rushing you and the man full speed. He shot it clean through the head. You looked up and his eyes met yours. The man you were with looked toward the car and tensed. 

You held up the pain killers. Chan frowned slightly. 

“We should, go get them...” Felix said quietly. 

Chan sighed and sat back for a moment, before putting the car into reverse. 

He stared at you. You stared at him. 

“Name?” he asked as you got in the car.

"None of your business." the man with you said.

Chan's eyes narrowed. "Then get the hell out."

"y/n." You said locking eyes with him in the rearview mirror.

"Hm?" He gave your companion a sideways glance.

"I'm not saying sh-"

You elbowed him. "This is Seonghwa."

Seonghwa's eyes narrowed at Chan.

"Felix." Felix turned from the front passenger's seat and smiled at you.

"Jeongin." He turned and smiled sheepishly. "Thank you for saving me."

"Don't mention it." You muttered.

Chan put the car into drive and you watched the scenery go by. "Where are we going?"

"Home." Felix said looking out the window.

Your brows furrowed. "Where is that?"

He smirked. "You'll see."

Chan shot him a glare.

Felix shut up.

Why was he being all friendly with you like you weren't just the person who stole a drug their friend so desperately needed.

"They aren't coming with us." Chan gripped the wheel tightly.

"Good." Seonghwa started.

You shot him a glare. "Why can't we come with you?"

"Too many people, not enough resources." Chan reasoned.

"Then why did you bother picking us up?" You snapped.

Chan stopped the car and turned to look at you. "My people come first, you took something I needed for my people, in what world am I obligated to help you."

You held up the acetaminophen. "We'll give you this, we need a place to stay."

Felix's eyes widened slightly.

Chan glared at you. "Keep your shit."

"Chan!" Jeongin sat up.

The man glared at the younger boy before looking at you again. "I don't need your stuff, I get you away from the red zones and you leave us alone."

"No need." Seonghwa pushed the door open and grabbed your arm, pulling you out. "Leave." He huffed.

Chan was about to press the gas when Felix blurted. "Minho's fever could kill him! What are you doing!"

"Yongbok!" Chan shouted.

You stared at them. "Who's dying?"

You looked at Seonghwa, his expression relaxed slightly.

Felix looked at you.

"Our friend.." Jeongin said quietly. "He has an infection, we've got the antibiotics and everything but the fever won't stay down."

You inhaled deeply. "You don't have anyone who knows how to deal with that."

Chan bristled.

"The best we've got can't do anything.." Felix put his head in his hands.

"Let me help you." You muttered.

Chan squeezed the wheel and looked at you. "Is that angry Pomeranian coming with you?"

You snorted a laugh at the name he gave Seonghwa. "He stays with me."

Seonghwa huffed. "I'd rather be a Pomeranian than a gorilla."

Chan gave him a disgusted look. "Get in." He rolled his eyes.

[toxicanonymity]

on your back (personal trainer)

2.4k / dark!joel miller x reader / joel master list

can read alone, or pt 1: chest press

WARNINGS: perverted Joel, gaslighting / manipulation, groping, dry humping, coming in pants, dubcon P in V, TW body commentary, reader's breasts can bounce, SA (groping), high pressure. Joel has his own private gym. Thx @dark-scape and @missannwinchester for foam roller, protein shake, & sports bra ideas.

When you were done, he murmured, “on your back now.” He instructed you in how to bridge your hips.  “Better for your glutes than squats,”  he said and kneeled at your feet.  You were self conscious to be thrusting as he watched.  His eyes followed your hips as they went up and down.  He got between your knees and planked over you.   “Up until your hips hit mine.”

-

One time, Joel was shamelessly watching your body on the treadmill as usual and asked, “you're not doin' extra cardio, are ya?”

You hesitated, “Uh-” 

His brow furrowed.  “Don’t wanna lose your tits.”  His eyes fell to your chest again.  You followed his gaze and became very aware of the bounce. You needed a more restrictive sports bra.

You pressed the button to slow your pace. “That’s enough today,” he said. “Just lookin’ out for ya.”  

You stepped down off the treadmill and he muttered, “Gotta have the right support, too. C’mere.”  He slid his hands in through the neckline of your dry fit shirt and hooked his fingers under the straps of your sports bra. 

He tugged the straps up and watched your breasts swell.  Then he dropped them.  He lifted your breasts with his palms, bit his lip, and took a deep breath. You didn’t say or do anything.  It was creepy but also nice having them touched.  He got behind you and cupped a breast in each hand, lifting them.   His cock twitched against you.  “Fuck,” he whispered. He gave them one last squeeze and mumbled, “not bad.”

He picked up his protein shake from the floor of the cardio room.  "Gotta get enough protein if ya wanna build muscle.” He tilted his head and looked at you hornily.  He held the  blender bottle down in front of his crotch and angled it outward then shook to mix it up.  He took a deep breath and kept shaking it, and adjusted himself with his other hand.  

“Try it,” he said, then handed you the bottle. 

-

One day when you were sore, he showed you how to use a foam roller. He held it steady on the gym mat and helped you position yourself on top of it, cupping an ass cheek to guide you with his other hand.  He positioned the roller under your thighs to start off with.  He straddled your legs and held your hips then rolled you down toward him until the foam cylinder was at the small of your back and your loins were nearly aligned.  

He adjusted his shorts, drawing your attention to the hard bulge hovering just above your upper thighs.  He lowered himself a little bit and you felt his balls come to rest where your inner thighs met.  He tilted his hips back so his arousal brushed against you.  Then he held you with his hands on your sides and rolled you toward him. Your upper back slid along the gym mat as he dragged your body toward him.  A shock of arousal buzzed through you as your loins met his hard cock.  He rolled you away then back into him.  Each time your loins met, he got harder and you got wetter.  His mouth fell open and he closed his eyes as he pulled you back into him at a slow rhythm.  His hips began to move and he pressed his hard-on into you as he pulled you in, softly grunting each time.  

He murmured, “How’s that feel, baby?” 

When you didn’t answer, he opened his eyes and pulled you closer.  Your spine was curved over the roller.  He leaned over you and put his hands to the sides of your shoulders.  He thrust against you and you gasped.  He lowered his head. “How’s the stretch?” 

"It's good."

 “We can make it deeper,” he said softly.  

You gave a small nod. 

“Good girl,” he whispered.  He sat back up and positioned himself between your thighs. “Wrap your legs around me.”  You didn’t hesitate. “Hang on tight.”   He put his hands on the mat again and used the motion of his pelvis, front and back, to roll you on the foam roller.  Each time his hardness pressed into you, you were closer to soaking through your leggings. 

“How’s that feel?” 

It was too much of his cock. “Uh, I think my back is good,” you said. 

“Good,” he whispered.  “Need ya real stretched out for me.” 

He slid his massive hand under your back and lifted gently as he slid the foam roller out from under you, then laid you down flat. You let your legs down to the floor.  

While he was still between your legs, he thumbed at the crotch of your leggings, surely as damp as you feared. “It’s natural, baby.”  He smelled then licked his thumb and added, “when we get nice and limber,” as he laid his shorts back into you.  “When we get our blood flowin’." You looked away uncomfortably.  He reassured you, "I get wet, too. i’ll show ya.” 

He leaned down and thrust his hard cock against your tingling cunt, breathing heavily, grunting, closing his eyes.  You twitched against him.  “Natural, baby.” He sped up.  His warm, stiff package pressed rhythmically into your throbbing clit until your back arched and you came.  “fuck,” he whispered, “yeah.”  Then he stopped thrusting, laid into you hard, and moaned as he pulsed against you and came in his shorts.

-

One day, you did leg lifts. You laid down on your side with your head resting in your hand.  He kneeled behind your ass so you were facing away from him. One large hand rested gently on top of your hip and he put his other hand in between your calves.  

“Now lift,” he said softly and nudged your leg upward.  

He held your calf as you lifted your leg, then he slid his hand from your calf, past your knee.  “Good, now down,” he said.  He kept sliding his hand toward your torso until the side of his finger hit the apex of your thighs. 

Each time you raised your leg, he slid his hand up to your calf, and each time you lowered it, his hand slid down to your crotch.  At some point, he started to cup your pussy from behind whenever he reached your crotch.  You could hear him breathing heavier. He scooted closer and rested his other hand on your stomach as he did it.  “Other side now,” he said.  You turned around facing him and watched his eyes devour you as he did the same thing for the whole set. 

When you were done, he murmured, “on your back now.” He instructed you in how to bridge your hips.  “Better for your glutes than squats,”  he said and kneeled at your feet.  You were self conscious to be thrusting as he watched.  His eyes followed your hips as they went up and down.  He spread your knees and got between them.  Then, when you were flat on the ground, he planked over you with his hands on the gym mat and his arms straight.  

“Up until your hips hit mine.” He was still hard from the leg raises.  You felt his hardness every time you lifted your groin into his.  

Good girl,” he whispered and wet his lips.  It was far, far too easy to visualize fucking him. That time when he referenced you thinking about him and touching yourself, he was dead on.  Every time you got home, that’s what you did.  You wanted him desperately.  But it also didn’t feel right - you didn’t know if he was like this with every client or just you.  If you knew it was personal, it might not feel so dirty. 

-

The first time he invited you to into his sauna, you declined.

“Sauna’s infrared,” he told you the next time he urged you to join him. “Real good for ya.”  You heard about the benefits of infrared light, so it intrigued you.    

He led you into the small locker room of his gym.  Once the two of you were in there, he said you should take off your clothes first so the infrared light could wash over you.  He took off his shirt and sat down on a wooden bench outside the sauna.  He put his hands on his knees as you took off your shirt.  “Good girl,” he said.  "Go on,” he added, urging you to remove your bra and leggings, too.  Your ears got hot as you peeled off your sweaty bra.  He beckoned you closer to him, then hooked his fingers into your leggings and helped pull those down.  He inhaled sharply as your cunt was exposed. You tried to cover yourself.  “Shhh, it’s okay baby,” he whispered. “human body’s a beautiful thing. We’re just two bodies here.”  The low echo of his soothing voice made you wetter than you already were. 

“God damn,” he breathed.  “Lookin’ real good.”  You couldn’t fully suppress your smile at the compliment.  He shamelessly rubbed his arousal over his shorts, then stood up to take them off and you looked away.  You couldn’t help but check out his naked ass as he led you into the sauna.  He noticed this in the door’s reflection and smiled to himself.  There weren’t towels or anything, but the rosy hue was somewhat comforting.  It wasn’t too hot in there, either.   

Joel sat right down on the sauna bench, hard-on blazing.    You looked directly at it and your nipples puckered. 

“Turn ya on?” he asked.  “Good sign,” he said. “Means you’re healthy.” His eyes scanned you hungrily from head to toe.  “C’mere a minute, gorgeous,” he beckoned you.  You shyly stepped forward. When you got close enough to him, he gently took your hands in his and guided you to standing as close as possible between his knees.  His foot nudged your feet apart, then he slipped his massive hand between your bare thighs, and his thick fingers met your dripping seam. “Gorgeous,” he said, looking between your legs.  “Just perfect.”  His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.  With his free hand, he reached for his cock.  It was a mouth-watering sight.  He kept stroking the wet mess between your legs.  His lips parted with desire. 

Your heart raced. “I dunno if this is a good idea,” you said.  

“I think your body’s sayin’ it is, sugar.”  He removed his fingers and examined their shine, then sucked them dry while maintaining eye contact, making you weak in the knees.  He rubbed you again, then asked “Can I feel inside?” and you nodded hesitantly.  He inserted his middle finger first, pumped it a few times, swirled it, pulled it almost all the way out, then added his index finger.  He rested his thumb against your clit as he slowly finger fucked you.  Then he took his thick digits out and wiped them on the head of his cock, gathering his precum to combine with your slick as lube. 

“been doin’ this dance for weeks,” he said.  “Shoulda told me to stop if ya didn’t want it.”  

You were speechless.  

“Think you should sit on this cock now, baby.” He began to stroke himself slowly.   “Lemme get to know your body. Show ya somethin’ special ‘bout yours, too.” You hesitated and he slowly nodded.  “Only take a minute.”   He put his hands on your hips and rotated you to face away from him  “Damn, this ass,” he whispered.  He slid his hand vertically between your legs and rubbed your wet pussy with the side of his index finger. “How ‘bout it, baby? Gotta listen to your body.”  He guided you closer to him.  “What’s your body sayin’?”  Your body was screaming yes. The red light seemed to make you extra horny, even more than you usually got around him. Then again, it was more likely the nudity. The sight of his stiff, naked cock.  

Joel used one hand to hold it at attention, and another to guide you back over it since you were facing away from him.  “Whaddaya say?”

“Okay, I guess,” you whispered, overwhelmed by the desire to have him inside you. Unable to formulate any reasoning behind your hesitation, as if you needed a reason. 

“Good girl,”  he said into the nape of your neck. “Come on down, easy does it.” his breath was hot on your lower back.  

He guided his tip to your entrance then put both hands on your hips and pulled down.  He groaned as you were impaled on his rock-hard shaft and you moaned as his girth stretched you open.   

“So damn tight,” he breathed. Your walls parted to accept him and it was still a stretch.   “Take it, I know ya can.”  He pulled down a little more, a little harder, and groaned as your bodies became flush.  “Now use it,” he said and put his hands on the bench with a lift of his hips that slightly rocked you.  “Do what makes ya feel good.”  You sat there for a moment, then he said, “go ‘head, show me what ya want.” 

You put your hands on your thighs and rose up half way, then lowered yourself with a soft moan.  “Yeah, there ya go, baby.”  He took your hands in his on top of your thighs. 

You rose up a few more times, then he returned his hands to your hips and started guiding you to move you faster.  You put your hands on your knees and tilted your hips to take more of him. “Good girl,” he said.  

He fucked you for a few minutes, panting and praising you.  "Our bodies needed this,” he said as he sheathed himself with your cunt.   “Real bad.”   He let you up and pulled you down, then held you down, moving you on his cock, staying deep inside you, nudging your g-spot.  

You were getting close, but not fast enough.  He started holding breaths and releasing them  vocally, then warned you, "gonna come, baby.”  He kept moving you on his cock, and a few seconds later he panted, “Get up now, ‘less ya wanna be pumped full.”  

You kinda did want that, but you knew it wouldn’t be smart, even though you took your pill pretty well.  Instead, you dismounted him and turned around to watch. Your walls slowly came back together to fill the void he left as he stroked himself.  Then he pointed the head of his cock at your lower belly and his hot seed hit your skin.  

When he finished releasing a massive load, he swiped his fingers through it and raised them to your mouth. "Good protein," he said. 

-

THANK YOU for reading and thank you so much for your reblogs and comments! Now more than ever. PSA: follow me if you're into this, because i'm shadowbanned and not showing up in tags. this also means i can't make comments (but I still read each of yours and truly appreciate it). I also can't send or receive DMs on. main. follow @toxicfics for notifications and @toxicrecs for reblogs.

[fuctacles]

Every inch of you is perfect

For @subeddieweek Day 2 | T | 1591 | t4t, transfem Stevie, transmasc Eddie, bathing, Mommy kink, FLUFF, established relationship | Ao3 Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Ao3

And while you're here, may i interest you in @stevieweek ?

The sound of a whimper leads Stevie to the bathroom. The doors aren't locked, so she steps in, and finds her boyfriend submerged up to his neck in foam. She pats herself on the back for keeping track and being prepared this time. Gently, she knocks on the door to alert him of her presence. 

Eddie looks up with sunken eyes.

"I hate this," he groans instead of a greeting. Stevie doesn't blame him.

"I know, baby." She steps properly inside and threads her fingers through Eddie's damp locks. She drops a soft kiss to his temple while massaging his scalp. "I got painkillers, ginger tea, and some brownies. I'll bring them in a second. Need anything else?"

"Don't go," Eddie protests.

"I'll put on the water, and I'll be right back," she promises, but stays for an extra minute to scrape her nails behind his ears. Regardless, Eddie makes a sound of protest when she tries to leave.

"Hey." Stevie's tone is gentle when she grasps his chin, more of a reminder than actual scolding. Eddie opens his eyes to let her know he's listening. "You're a big boy. You can wait for five minutes, can't you?"

"I can." Eddie nods petulantly. 

"Good," Stevie squeezes his chin and leans down to give him a peck. "Do you want some music, baby?"

"I do."

Stevie pulls out her phone and finds Eddie's metal ballads playlist she has saved on her Spotify. She sets it on the windowsill to play. 

"I'll be right back," she promises before stepping out. She leaves the door open so he can hear her moving around the kitchen, and he closes his eyes, knowing she'll take care of him. 

He hears her come back, and yet the cold hand on his cheek startles him. 

"Sorry, baby. Got you some Tylenol. Open up."

He opens his mouth without hesitation and lets her drop the pill on his tongue, followed by a glass of water pressed to his lips to wash down the medication. His hands stay under the foamy surface through the whole process. 

"Perfect. You're so perfect, baby."

Despite the pain, Eddie smiles at the praise, eyes fluttering open. 

"Wanna be good for you."

"You always are," Stevie reassures him, pecking him on the lips. She moves a stray piece of hair behind his ear. "Can I join you?" 

Eddie makes a face. 

"Uh, I don't know. The water is kind of gross."

"Nothing is gross about you, baby," Stevie reminds him gently. "We probably need to change it anyway," she muses, dipping her hand under the foam. "Yup. Can you pull the plug for me, honey?"

Reluctantly, Eddie nods.

"Good. I'll get your tea and snacks, and I'm right back."

This time Eddie doesn't protest. He's got a mission to focus on, draining the bloody water to make room for his girlfriend. He watches the foam slowly lower, settling partially on his naked body. On the meat vessel that betrayed him once again.

Stevie comes back with the stool they often used as a makeshift side table, and settles a plate of chocolates and brownies on top of it. 

"Did you get Reese's?" he asks, peeking at the snacks. 

"Course I did. Who do you take me for?" She raises an eyebrow, blowing at the steaming mug in her hands. It's Eddie's Lord of the Rings one, an old convention find. 

"Can I?" he asks, eyes focused on the plate. 

"They are for you, sweetheart, you don't have to ask."

"Thanks, Mommy."

Stevie smiles at the endearment. It's been coming more and more naturally for him to call her that, and it made her chest bloom with love and affection. Each time got her closer to proposing.

She blows at the tea some more and takes a careful sip before handing it to Eddie. 

"Here. It's cool enough to drink. Don't make that face," she adds after he scrunched his nose. "I added the raspberry syrup from Robin."

He takes the mug, sniffs its contents, and takes a sip.

“It's not bad bad, I guess,” he decides. “Thank you, Mommy.”

"You're welcome, sweetie. Now let me fix that bath for us."

She reaches for the shower rod and while Eddie drinks his ginger raspberry tea, she rinses off the leftover foam before plugging the drain and letting it fill with hot water again. Eddie watches her curiously as she walks to the cabinet and reaches for the highest shelf.

"Ooh, are we doing a bath bomb?"

They had a couple stashed somewhere for their relaxing baths together. Stevie liked getting the fancy ones and Eddie liked to look the other way when he saw their prices. 

Stevie hums in affirmation.

"Got a special one just for you. You're going to love it."

"Thanks, I'm already making my own bloody water."

"Cheeky, aren't we?" She looks down at him with a raised eyebrow. He bites back the bratty smile. "You'll have to wait and see." She puts the bath bomb aside and starts undressing. Eddie watches the movements of her fingers, transfixed. "Keep drinking your tea, baby," she speaks up without looking.

Eddie takes a loud sip, watching Stevie’s top fall to the floor. Her jeans follow, and he sighs, resting the hot mug against his cheek.

"So pretty."

Stevie smiles at the compliment. Her boy called her the sweetest things, and it always worked. She was proud of her looks, but his words were what made her feel truly beautiful and feminine. 

"Thank you, baby. Are you done drinking?"

"Yes." He takes one last sip and shows her the empty mug.

"Good job, sunshine." She takes the mug from him and puts it away. "Do you want me behind you or on the other side?" she asks, pulling off her socks. 

Eddie considers his body and asks if it wants to be touched, and what it needs.

"Wanna see you," he decides. 

"Okay." Stevie nods. She ties up her hair and Eddie watches her arm muscles flex. He can't wait for his period to be over so he can get pinned down by them and thrown over her broad shoulder. He sighs at the thought, and his train of thought must be obvious because Stevie smirks when she reaches to remove her bra. Eddie loves her tits too. Being suffocated between them was his favorite thing. He loved all of his girlfriend, her curves and muscles, her breasts, and her dick. Every inch of her was perfect. And he meant every inch. 

Her clothes are in a pile on the floor and so is Eddie, except he's in the bathtub, suffering. He almost forgot, but another relentless cramp helpfully reminded him.

Stevie grabs the bath bomb before stepping into the bath with him. Eddie watches the steam cling to her skin in a wet sheen and tries to distract himself from the pain with the goddess in front of him.

She sits down and water licks the tub’s edge, threatening to spill, so she quickly turns the tap off. She scoots closer until their shins cross under the water, and reaches out to gently caress her boyfriend’s leg, knee to ankle. 

"Ready?" she asks, hovering the bath bomb over the surface. Eddie nods, finally tearing his gaze away from her and to her hand and the little gift. The bath bomb is big and white, innocent-looking. It could be anything. 

She lowers it into the water and thick black clouds start emerging from her hand. Eddie makes an excited sound, his hand flying under the water to reach the fizzing blackness quickly filling their tub.

"Well, that's a manly bath bomb."

Stevie bursts out laughing. She drops the bomb to do its thing and reaches up for her boyfriend's face.

"You're manly," she says, finally giving him a proper kiss. "How are you doing?"

"Better now," he admits. 

They watch the water fizz and bubble until the bath bomb completely dissolves. The water is inky black, except for the extra shine of silver dusting on the surface. Eddie threads his fingers through it, reveling in the thick black color of the water, letting the silver sparkles settle on his skin.

They feed each other sugary treats and exchange soft kisses until the water cools, no longer bringing relief to the aching muscles. Only then do they wash each other properly, Stevie moving behind him to massage shampoo into his scalp.

"You want dinner on nap first?" she asks softly. However, based on her boyfriend’s droopy eyes, she could probably guess herself.

"Nap," Eddie answers without hesitation. 

So she wraps him up in his fluffy black towel and helps him dry off. He doesn't protest the pampering, getting conditioner rubbed into his hair, or getting it brushed. When he's about ready to go to the bedroom, Stevie lifts him without warning. He yelps, grasping her shoulders.

"I can walk myself!" Then he protests. But Stevie presses her lips to his surgery scars and walks out of the bathroom with Eddie in her arms.

"My baby boy isn't walking anywhere today."

She sets him down on the bed, where his special boxers are already waiting, and bats his hand away when he tries to reach for them. She grabs the underwear herself and holds it for him to step into.

He does so, despite the embarrassment reddening his cheeks. She slides them up his legs and lets the elastic slap against his skin. He huffs, slapping her hands away while she snickers. 

"Come on, let's go to sleep."

@stevieweek

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 1

Masterlist |-| Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18

AO3

Summary: As Frankie reaches the end of her second week at Thorpe Abbotts Airfield, she begins to find her footing among the men of the 100th Bomb Group

Warnings: Excessive alcohol consumption, language

Word Count: 4k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee

The setting sun cast a golden blanket over Thorpe Abbotts airfield, basking everything in an idyllic, orange glow that was almost beautiful enough to distract from the heady stench of motor oil that lay thick on the air, permeating hair and clothes so thoroughly that anyone who spent even five minutes in the place would carry it with them for the rest of the day.

Frankie Bevan clamped a flashlight tight between her teeth, the narrow beam of light illuminating the underside of the B-17's gun turret as she surveyed it for any cracks or gaps in the glass that could compromise its integrity. The rest of the ground crew had called it a day almost two hours ago, but the Yanks always did prefer to work in the daylight. She was nearing the end of her third year in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force, and after so many nights spent running the airstrips in the darkness for the RAF, Frankie was well accustomed to toiling away into the night.

Thorpe Abbotts was new, and yet much the same. It was only her second week here, compensating for the Americans' manpower shortages. The job was always the same, no matter where she went or what planes she worked on - checks, fixes, refuelling, over and over again - but thus was the nature of a mechanic's job. What she was not yet quite used to was the Americans themselves. Loud and brash and self-assured, Frankie was sometimes glad they worked different hours.

Taking note of a few cracks in the glass panelling, she reached up to swipe the torch from her mouth, offering a satisfied nod as she completed her checks for the night. All that was left was to pin her list of concerns up on the board inside the mechanics' Nissen hut, and then it was off to the pub for her.

Once she changed out of her oil-stained coveralls, that was.

"They're working you like a dog down there on the strip," Georgina, one of Frankie's bunkmates, pointed out, flipping nonchalantly through a magazine as she lounged on her bed.

"Someone's gotta do it," She shrugged, kicking off her coveralls as she rummaged in the shared wardrobe for the correct service uniform. "Some of the mechanics they've brought over are practically kids, not sure I'd trust 'em to fix my plane if I was going up there."

"You'd better show 'em what for, then," George smiled, glancing over as Frankie finished buttoning up her blouse, reaching for the navy blue jacket.

"You coming for drinks?"

"Uh, nah - I'll go tomorrow. Sandra thinks we'll be starting early tomorrow so I wanna get a decent night's sleep."

"Ooh, luxury," Frankie teased, shimmying her shoulders as she made her way to the door of the hut. "Alright, see you later."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The pub was crammed from door to door as she forced her way inside, the sound of chattering overpowering the music blaring from a radio in the corner. The American invasion of Thorpe Abbotts had well and truly been successful, scarcely a flash of RAF blue visible amongst the sea of khaki as Frankie burrowed her way through the crowds towards the bar.

"Pint of Guinness, please," She called over the din, the bartender offering a friendly nod of affirmation as she felt the crowd behind her push her body further into the edge of the bar.

"There y'are, love," The man nodded, placing the pint glass in front of her as she smiled her thanks, foam lining her top lip as she took her first sip. Frankie barely had time to wipe it away, turning to take a step back from the bar, before another body collided with hers. She gasped as the beer she had so looked forward to sloshed over the rim of the glass, pooling on the floor and staining the front of her uniform, as the other man's drink did the same.

"Woah, careful there!" The man cried, flicking a few stray droplets of spilt beer from his hand onto the floor. A deep frown creased her features as she peered up at him. The soldier was so tall that the tip of her head didn't quite pass his shoulder, and yet the irritation in her expression was so palpable that he took a full step back.

"Oh, that was my fault, was it?" Frankie tutted.

"Well, sweetheart, maybe if you'd been looking where you were going-"

"Maybe if you bloody Yanks gave us some room to breathe in here we wouldn't have a problem!"

There was an easy smile on the man's face that struck her as distinctly annoying. Discarding his now almost empty glass on the bar, the man put up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Look. We're not gonna agree on this, so what d'ya say we settle this with a little friendly competition?"

She raised a brow. "What sort of competition?"

"Uh... how 'bout a drinking contest?"

Frankie let out a guffaw so forceful that the man's confident smile disappeared, and a few nearby airmen turned to watch the scene unfold. "Y'know what? Yeah. You're on."

With a nod, he turned away, marching towards the closest table. "Alright boys, gimme some space, I got a contest to win against half-pint over here."

She approached the table, sitting down opposite the soldier, smirking at his arrogance. The airmen he had kicked out of their seats were lingering to watch the spectacle unfold, and it was clear their bets were on her opponent.

"Now," He sighed, taking a seat. "In the spirit of good sportsmanship, I oughta introduce myself. John Egan," He said, reaching a hand across the table.

"Frances Bevan. Frankie," She nodded, shaking his hand.

Egan nodded. "So, normal rules apply. No spilling, no vomiting, gotta drain the glass. Still wanna do this?"

Frankie nodded firmly. "I'd never pass up such a wonderful opportunity to humble you Yanks," She grinned.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Egan was turning red, his smug smile long since vanished, the motion of his arm slowing as he reached for the next shot glass, glancing across at her with a slightly nauseated expression. The crowd surrounding them had long since grown since they had begun, although how long ago that was she couldn't quite remember. The huge pile of empty shot glasses in the centre of the table did nothing to jog her memory.

"Oh, come on, Egan, you've gotta do better than that," Frankie teased, reaching forward and downing her next shot. In fairness, she too was beginning to feel light-headed, but it never showed on her face, her demeanour as cool and collected as it had been when she first sat down.

"I thought... I thought this would be easy," John complained, grimacing as he brought the next glass to his lips. "You're so small, where are you storing all this liquor?"

"I'm British - pretty sure it's in our bloodstream," She teased. Egan's eyes narrowed as he weakly upturned the contents of his glass into his mouth, screwing up his face as the liquid ran down his throat.

"I really like her," John admitted, letting out a long sigh as he drew a hand over his eyes. A few of the airmen laughed, clapping him over the shoulders.

"I think we're done here," Frankie chuckled.

"You forfeit?" He asked hopefully.

"No, I'm saying you're about to. That or you're gonna throw up - either way, I win."

"Nuh-uh," Egan shook his head. "Not gonna happen," He fought to suppress a burp, and the room seemed to brace itself for the inevitable vomit that would follow, letting out a collective sigh of relief when he swallowed his nausea back down. "...Yeah. Ok."

She clapped, throwing up her hands in victory as a couple of the men standing behind her cheered. "Well, it's been a real pleasure doing business with you Major," Frankie chuckled, fighting through the splitting headache that was growing in her temples as she rose from her seat, offering him a hand to help him stand.

John batted her away, but stumbled as he got up, one of his friends pressing a firm hand on his back to keep him upright. She smiled. "I'll help you get him back since it's my fault. Gotta get back to the huts anyway."

The airman accepted, each of them slinging one of Egan's arms around their shoulders as he tilted haphazardly over to one side, struggling to prop himself up against her due to her height. Trailing towards the door, a few of the men let out celebratory whoops at her as she passed, praising her victory.

"Thanks for the night, gents - I'm here all war," Frankie called over her shoulders, a cheer erupting from the crowd as they dragged Egan sideways out of the door.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was growing difficult to see as they marched John back to the huts, the street lights growing more and more sparse the closer they got to the airfield. "You gotta teach me how to do that," He slurred, tilting his head down towards her, the smell of liquor thick on his breath.

"You gotta get more practice in - you Americans with your 'no alcohol until you're 21' rule never stood a chance, we've just been in the game longer."

"Ah," He nodded, pausing for a moment. "Hey, why'd you call yourself Frankie?"

"Because Frances is a terrible name," She scoffed.

"Can I call you Fran?"

"Only if you want to die."

"Fair enough."

As they reached the end of the row of men's huts, she shrugged his arm off of her shoulders, relinquishing custody of John to the other airman, who thanked her for her help.

"See ya 'round, Shortcake!" Egan called as they trailed away, grinning proudly to himself at the nickname. Frankie scoffed, rolling her eyes and massaging her temples as her headache steadily worsened.

"You look like shit," George whispered as she wandered back into their hut. She had rolled her hair up into pin curls, protected beneath a headscarf, and was reading a copy of Wuthering Heights in the dim light of her bedside lamp.

"Got into a drinking contest with one of the Americans," She shrugged, tossing her beer-stained blouse and jacket into a crumpled heap at the foot of her bed, a reminder to wash them tomorrow.

"Did you win?"

"Of course."

"Shh!" One of the other women hissed from the opposite end of the room, shrouded in the darkness. Frankie pulled a face at her scolding, dragging a brush through the knots in her dark brown hair as George stifled a laugh, discarding her book and turning off the light once her friend had changed and gotten into bed.

It was silent for a while as she lay beneath the blankets, staring up at what would have been the ceiling if not for the complete absence of light. Her alcohol-induced headache thrummed behind her eyes, a constant, dull pain keeping her from sleep.

"George?" She whispered.

"What?"

"Do you have an aspirin?"

The sound of quiet rummaging was audible in the stillness of the hut, and she struggled to suppress a laugh as she felt the tube smack her in the face, a result of Georgina tossing it blindly in the darkness.

"Thank you," She giggled, trying not to gag as she took the pills dry, lying back and waiting for the pain to subside as she thought back on the night's events.

I'm not that short.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The blinding morning sun was unwelcome the next day as Frankie made her way to the airfield from her hut, bike resting against her hip as she made a momentary stop to fix her hair for the day ahead, hair tie held between her teeth as she scooped it into a ponytail. Most of the women she shared the Nissen hut with had left over an hour ago, hurrying to the flight tower in anticipation of the arrival of yet more American pilots, but her job didn't begin until after the planes landed, so fortunately for her, she had been afforded a little more sleep, her headache now more or less dissipated.

A loud honking startled her, the hair tie slipping from her teeth and falling to the floor. As she bent to pick it up, a jeep rolled to a stop in front of her, the horn parping once more.

"Fuck's sake, what?" Frankie muttered, glancing up to see the cheery grin of Major John Egan smiling down at her.

"Mornin'."

"Are you even fit to drive after last night?"

"Fifty-fifty. Hop in, throw your bike in the back."

She frowned as she noticed the pile of bikes already forming in the back of the car, but stacked her on top all the same, sliding into the passenger seat beside him. "Starting a collection?"

"Won them in a bet, night before last. Got one for me and my buddy Buck, he's arriving today."

"Is that Major Cleven?" She asked.

"Sure is," John nodded as the engine roared to life, taking them sailing along the road towards the airstrip, the wind ruining her hair before she even had a chance to finish it.

"So..." He began, swerving slightly to dodge a few maintenance workers on bikes. "Where ya from, Frankie?"

"Stratford."

"I... do not know where that is."

"I didn't expect you to," She chuckled. "Grew up with my dad working his garage, that's what got me into it. Always preferred planes to cars, though."

"You and me both," John nodded, slowing as they neared the landing strip. Up ahead, the flight crew were beginning to disembark, and Frankie's eyes narrowed as she noticed one of the airmen carrying a large dog.

"If they let that dog shit in the plane, I'm not cleaning it up," She stated. "You've heard me say it, that's on the record now."

"Yes ma'am," Egan affirmed, pulling to a stop, a grin spreading across his face as he got close enough to recognise his friends.

As he clambered out of the car, stepping forward to greet his comrades, she climbed out of her seat, wandering around the back of the jeep to disentangle her bike from the pile, tugging it free as the sounds of wind and aeroplane engines overpowered the men's voices.

"Oh, and, uh - This is Frankie Bevan," John called, guiding Cleven towards her, speaking louder so that she could hear. She raised her hand in a somewhat awkward wave, almost dropping her bike on her foot as she hauled it off the back of the jeep. "Best damn mechanic we've got, she's holdin' us together, that's for sure."

"Ma'am," Cleven greeted her with a tilt of his cap.

"He's never seen me work," Frankie shook her head, stepping forward to shake Cleven's hand. "We only met yesterday, he's just being nice in the hopes I won't tell you about how I drank him under the table last night."

John scoffed. "That is not what-" She raised a brow and he stuttered. "Yeah, that - that did happen."

Cleven laughed, squeezing Egan's shoulder. "Well, I'm sure glad he's had someone to keep him humble before I got here. Thank you for your work, ma'am, I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of each other soon."

She nodded, grinning at Egan's embarrassment. "How was your flight?"

"Smooth sailin', not sure there'll be anything to fix up this time."

A soldier she had heard John greet as Demarco spoke up from where he was stood, scratching his dog's stomach. "The dog dropped a deuce in the cockpit."

Clicking her fingers, she pointed to Egan. "She's not doing that!" He called, craning his head over his shoulder as Demarco put his hands up in surrender.

"Well, that works wonders," Frankie chuckled, lifting her leg to straddle the seat of her bike. "Now, if all you gents have planned is standing around, I've got work to do."

"Bye Shortcake," John grinned as she pedalled the bicycle into motion, ringing the bell and offering up a middle finger as she left. He chuckled, feeling Cleven clap him over the shoulder again.

"She's interesting... nice," His friend began. "Bucky, I know you're sick of Marge tryna set you up, but she is definitely-"

"She's definitely my friend, Buck. Besides, I could never date a woman with a higher alcohol tolerance than me. That's just embarrassing."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The wind whipped her hair this way and that as Frankie hammered at the pedals, gaining speed faster and faster with each second until the rolling fields beyond the airstrip were little more than a green blur. She'd always loved to cycle, preferably as fast as she possibly could. Her father used to say she should try racing, but his ambition curtailed rather when she got in trouble for almost taking out a couple of tourists outside Shakespeare's birthplace on her way home from school. Besides, she'd never quite had the discipline for sports.

Her breaks squeaked noisily as she rolled to a stop outside the mechanics' Nissen hut, stationed just beyond the main runway. They had been given a single hut for all of their operations, much to the chagrin of many. The back end was an orderly pile of spare parts - buckets of rivets, piles of sheet metal - but someone had supplied them with a table and chairs, and the recent addition of a gas stove and kettle had proved a huge hit.

Ken Lemmons was sat at the table as she wandered in, glancing at the corkboard by the door where she and the others posted notice of anything in need of urgent repair.

"A couple of the guys replaced the glass in the gun turrets earlier - thanks for the shout," Lemmons spoke up.

"Ah, good," Frankie nodded, taking a seat opposite him. As much as she bemoaned her younger, American co-workers, she had grown fond of Ken. He was sipping a cup of coffee, and by the look on his face, he was not enjoying it. She tossed the paper bag containing her lunch onto the table, retrieving a cucumber sandwich - meagre subsistence, and a sight that made the boy frown.

"I think I'd actually murder someone for some Hershey's right about now," He remarked, grimacing as he took another sip of coffee.

"Hey, we make do with what we've got," She shrugged, attempting to devour the sandwich before the cucumber could soak through the thin slices of bread. "I know one of the girls in the Land Army - I darn her jumpers in exchange for a bit of her extra cheese ration."

Lemmons chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "I miss good chocolate. I can't get used to... Cad-berry's?"

"Oh, that's sacrilege," She laughed, tossing a slice of cucumber at him, which stuck to the breast pocket of his coveralls. "If you'd come a couple years ago when they were still making Dairy Milk you'd've thought you'd died and gone to heaven."

"I'll believe it when I see it," He grinned, plucking the slice off of his clothes. There was a pause before he spoke again. "One of the fellas says they're actually taking off later."

Frankie nodded, lifting a hand to cover her mouth as she spoke around her food. "Oh yeah? This gonna be your first proper go at it?"

"Yeah..." Lemmons admitted, looking momentarily nervous. "You?"

She snorted back a laugh. "Nah. I've been in the WAAF nearly four years - moved around a bit, but whether it's Attlebridge or Docking or Thorpe Abbotts, it's all the same gig. You stick with me when the planes start coming back down and you'll be fine."

The corner of his mouth tilted upwards in a smile. "You're gonna babysit me?"

Frankie grinned, standing up to reach across the table and ruffle his curls. "With a cute little face like yours, who could help it?" She teased, laughing as he batted her away.

"Get off, I'm serious," Lemmons chuckled, but the smile never faded from his expression.

Ken's buddy hadn't been wrong, per se, but his fabled mission had come not hours, but days later, with a hammering knock on the door to her hut, the women stirring from their sleep in a wave of disgruntled moans.

"What time is it?" Frankie whined as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, resisting the urge to burrow her head beneath the pillow and block out the relentless knocking outside.

"Four thirty," George groaned, frowning vindictively at her watch as she put it on, as if time itself had caused her personal grievance.

"They're flying today, get ready!" A young male voice bellowed from the other side of the door, clearly too shy to bare his face to a room of half-dressed, irritated women.

"Fuck me, I'm coming," She muttered, brushing her hair with one hand as she buttoned up the front of her coveralls with the other.

"Spot me! How's my lipstick?" George called, and Frankie leant across the bed that separated them to wipe a stray smudge of red away with her thumb.

"All good."

"Right," Her bunkmate huffed. "I'll see you later, yeah?"

"See you later," Frankie affirmed.

"I'll join you for drinks this time if all goes well!" George called over her shoulder as she scurried towards the door.

"I'll hold you to that!" She replied, smiling as she laced up her boots.

The planes left and returned in mere hours, but the in-between had felt never-ending as the ground crew waited in tense anticipation to see how many would return and in what state. Frankie had sent Egan away to the flight tower after his nervous hovering had started to get on her nerves, and she had since spent the last half-hour sitting in the grass beside the runway making daisy chains with a few of the local children as a way to pass the time.

"Frankie! They're comin' in!" She heard Lemmons yell from across the airstrip. Hurriedly sending the children back to their parents as the sound of plane engines grew steadily louder overhead, she scrambled to her feet, grass stains streaking the knees of her coveralls as she jogged over, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as the planes began to descend towards them.

"...10, 11, 12..." Frankie muttered, coming to the slow realisation that many of the men they'd sent away that morning had not returned. But that loss did not negate the importance of the work they had to do now. "Ok, let's go," She patted Lemmons on the shoulder, and they reached for the bikes they had discarded on the ground nearby, pedalling hard towards the landing strip.

From the second they arrived, she was surveying the damage, scanning the planes for the areas that would need the most attention. It was impossible to pick just one.

"There's a reason we go at night," She muttered, so softly no one else could hear over the din of shouts and dying engines. The mechanics weren't emergency staff, but she'd seen a fair few planes come in either on fire, half-collapsed or both over the years, enough to learn it was best to get in as soon as possible.

"Shit," Lemmons huffed beside her, staring up at a huge, jagged hole in the metal of one of the plane's wings.

"Send a couple of the boys back to the hut - tell them to bring a car back with all the sheet metal they can put in it. Oh - and get me a welder!" She called to him, and the young man began barking orders at the other mechanics, the crew erupting to life around the plane as they began to fix the mess that had returned.

"Frankie!" Egan's voice rang from down below as she climbed up onto the top of the plane, marking out the areas of the body that needed replacing. She looked down at him as he yelled again. "You need anything?"

"Nope, we're good here!" Frankie replied, holding up a thumbs-up in case the wind drowned out her voice. Looking down at the work to do below her, it was as if she could map out every fix in her mind, envision every action in order, play it out in her head until the beast was as good as new. She smiled to herself. "This is what I do."

[jaketsparrow]

Tending Part 1

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 8.9K 

Preview: One night when your work crush Jake takes the main stage at the bar you work at, you both finally get the courage to take things to the next step. You finally get to see a side of him he hasn’t gotten to show you yet. The only thing that sours the excitement is when you wake up the next morning and he’s not there. 

Note from author: This is my first time writing something like this so I hope it's enjoyable! It’s definitely a slow burn, but I really like how it ended. There is room for more, so I’m open to suggestions :) 

MENTIONS OF/ TW: !Drunks3x, Oral (m/f! receiving) receiving, dirty talk, name calling, teasing/edging, explicit sexual content, *some* impact play, dom/sub, mature themes, unprotected sex, fingering (f! receiving), language, choking, safe words… Moral of the story it's filthy (imo). Sorry if i missed anything! 

MINORS DNI

“You know we shouldn’t do this,” he says while unbuttoning his pants. Jake wants it too. Maybe just as much as you did. 

The autumn air is rolling into the bedroom, slowly waking you with its crisp touch. You try to fight the sleep off, slowly coming to. You rub your legs up and down the silky satin sheets, trying to navigate and stretch each muscle through the tangled mess. Next is your arms, sluggishly moving up to wipe the smeared mascara further across your eyes. One last wipe and you’re finally awake enough to open your heavy eyelids. 

Still in a state of morning fog and confusion, you turn to your left and reach out to touch him; expecting him to be there- but he’s not there. Where did he go? He was so close to you last night, facing you, noses practically touching, breathing lightly, but still enough to feel the breeze of him on you. The sheets had been completely evacuated of him; the only thing remaining was a few long strands of his chestnut hair. Was he truly only expecting sex last night? Honestly, how could you even think that he would spend the whole night? You desperately wish that he did, especially after everything. 

You finally muster the strength to sit yourself up, swinging your body over the edge of the bed. The hangover doesn’t hit you like a truck, but instead slowly sweeps through your body reminding you of your late night. 

Shit how much did you drink? 

Your judgment was far too clouded, the steps had already started- the act already unfolding. And you sat there silent, unsure of why this would be a bad idea at all. 

Each movement out of bed increases the throbbing in your head. It takes a good five minutes before you can struggle over to the dresser and find the clothes for your shift. Each step and dressing needs long deep breaths. You push past the bedroom door and walk into the tiny apartment bathroom; the cold tile beneath your feet sobering your sleep. You trash the vanity looking for your toothpaste, but once you find it you don’t even want to use it. The taste of his salty skin still lingers in your mouth, almost tastes too good to let go of… But soon the taste of alcohol begins to join in, creeping up the back of your throat- and you know you have to wash it out before it's too late. 

He’s still only unbuttoned, waiting for you. You are in awe of his beauty, in awe of this talent he has to leave you speechless… You can clearly see the outline of his hard cock, begging to be freed from his pants. He runs his hands over the front of his jeans; twitching with excitement. 

The night is still flashing back to you, slowly. You’re not too hungover to remember, but it’s almost like your brain knows that if you saw it all at once, you’d combust. You spit the foam of the toothpaste into the running sink. The burn of last night’s alcohol sits on the brim of making an entrance, but you won’t let it. You didn’t want it to be your first morning after him to be this rough, but at least he wasn’t here to witness it all.

Your absence of words means he will not move further- unless you permit him. He walks over to you, lifting his hand to hold your chin in his palm. He steers you to look upwards at him. You gaze up at him. His soft brown eyes gazing back at you. The eyes you’ve looked at so many times, hoping they would look at you like this. Deep with lust, crazed with some primal need to taste us. I still can’t believe he wants this- he wants… you. 

Your zombie-like body glides through the apartment in search of the Tylenol bottle that still hasn’t found its permanent home. You find it at the bottom of your purse, remembering that you packed it there for this specific reason. You twist the medicine bottle open and shake out two oblong pills. You place the bottle back in your purse, grab a rogue half-filled water cup from the counter, and swallow the pills back. 

He brings his face closer to yours. Squeezing his hands around your jaw. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks. 

You nod your head slowly, showing him your approval. By now the tension is so thick. His lips are so close. I lean forward towards him, but he dodges your attempt. His lips move towards your ear, his hand moving up to hold the underside of your head, caressing it gently. You can feel all the hairs on your body stand up as his cheek touches yours- as skin meets with skin. 

He whispers, “I need you to say the words.” 

You let out a quiet whimper- melting like putty into his hands.  “Jake, please fuck me.”

All that movement already has you wiped and you have no choice but to settle down at the kitchen table. Your head slowly moves towards the aged wooden table, but your arms cross in front of you to catch your forehead before you hit it. You nestle into your arms, resting the side of your face across your bicep. You try to remember how it all even happened. Where did it even start? 

It’s your night off, but on Wednesday nights you still choose to go in. You usually get free drinks, especially if Jake is working. In fact, he’d probably shoot tequila with you once the manager heads into the back office. But as you walk in there, you don’t see him at the bar; it's your friend Mariella bartending. Granted if you were actually going in for free drinks Mariella would also probably give you them, but you know it wasn’t about the drinking at all. 

Ever since Jake started another job you started to see him less and less. You try to not let it bother you, but having a work crush is what makes work exciting. Trying to catch smiling glances with each other, sometimes working the bar together on a busy Saturday night and having to slide past one another… Like that one time, you thought maybe more than just his legs brushed over your ass. You really couldn’t tell if he thought of you though, he had a perplexing silence to him. Bartenders can be like that though, brooding, mysterious, only showing their fun sides to get better tips. 

On a night like this, you’d sit at the end of the bar and enjoy the live music that filled the bar. You decide you will continue this weekly ritual and you walk over to Mariella. She’s wiping down the bar with a wet rag, swiping up some sticky mess left behind by the previous patrons. She dumps the rag out of sight and turns to see you smiling at her. 

“Hi dear,” you say to her. 

She chuckles at you, “Hello dearest,” she says, “I’m guessing you didn’t come in looking for me, huh?”

You pout your lip and reach out for her hand. “Of course not, but you’re just as pleasant to see.”

She crosses her arms and scoffs at you. 

“What do you want?” 

“Whatever you can give to me,” You say, “without getting in trouble.”

She thinks about that for a moment, then turns to start making you a drink. You turn your back to her, resting your arms on the edge of the wooden bar. The bar isn’t as full as it is on a Saturday, but there's a steady crowd forming. Some boys take the stage and start assembling. Mics connect to stands, drumsticks are being pulled out of bags, but you can tell they’re not ready yet. You turn back to watch Mariella. 

She's just about finished, eyeing the other customers who start to crowd her. She grabs the icy glass and puts it down in front of you, not saying a word, not even looking. You eye the light amber drink, trying to guess what it is. You take a sip from the straw. Whiskey sour. Nice. 

You watch Mariella assemble drinks and pass them off to their new owners; her speed is impressive. You're so lost in her service, that you don’t notice the band behind you starting their set. 

Jake… On guitar? This must have been the other ‘job’ he started. You turn to look, slowly, trying not to make yourself noticeable. There he was, beginning to lightly strum the guitar. His hair sitting on his shoulders, a loose button-up- that hasn’t been buttoned on the top four buttons, dark wash jeans clutching onto his legs, and these chelsea boots that he pulled off more than you wanted to give him credit for. There he was. Playing the fucking guitar, and then looking at you. 

Shit. You fell asleep again at the kitchen table. A jolt goes through your body. Your shift! You run searching for your phone. It’s on the living room couch, lighting up at you. 12:15 PM. Shit. The hangover still buzzes through your head and body, but somehow you manage to grab everything and your purse and head out the door. 

The mustyness of the hallway stings your nose and you try to hold back your gagging. The front door is opened by a neighbor and you rush out past them, apologizing for your rudeness. You shuffle to your car, except it isn’t in the parking lot… Oh… Yeah.

The set is ending, the crowd is starting to die down, and you can see how tired the entire band is getting. Jake’s forehead glimmers with sweat as he finishes the last few chords of the song. He’s so fucking good. Like really fucking good. The drums come to a slow, heartbeat-like, crash. The lead singer addresses the crowd and the band waves goodnight. 

You become aware of your staring problem, and move down to the end of the bar, hiding in the corner, scared of what conversation may occur. He saw you staring at him, eyeing his body, glazing over his sexy… Wishing you could finish unbuttoning his shirt, and relieve him of those tightly fitting jeans. He was truly too fucking much. You hide your head in your second whiskey sour, quickly sipping, leaving only the last bit of watered-down ice & whiskey. You look around at the bar- anywhere but the stage. 

You’re completely zoning out, tapping your fingers against the sticky bar, when you feel a presence walk up behind you. You can feel the nerves coming through, your heartbeat pounding in your chest… You have to remind yourself to breathe. 

His arm reaches past you for your drink. He takes the straw, throws it on the bar and shoots back the remainder of your watered-down cocktail. He puts the glass back down in front of you and occupies the stool next to yours. He doesn’t turn to look at you but instead waves to Mariella, and puts up two fingers. She understands his gestures and begins making the drinks. Your heart is racing faster now. You sit there frozen, trying to calm yourself. You don’t even know if he’s interested in you. But all you can think about is pressing your face up against his, violating his mouth with yours, sitting on his lap, and feeling his cock pressed up against your pussy... Enough. 

Your Uber pulls through the bar’s parking lot, which is in desperate need of paving. The car bounces up and down the potholes until you reach the employee parking in the back. The rollercoaster of the parking lot puts you at risk of letting that alcohol finally release itself from your throat. You swallow. Hard. 

You thank the driver, holding back anything else other than words trying to come out, grab your purse, and head into the back door. Immediately after you close the steel door, your manager Chris is there yapping your ear off. You start to prepare with your apron and supplies, half-listening to his scolding.

“You had the audacity to come in here last night, and drink nearly half a bottle of whiskey…” Tuning him out has become easy, but his shrieks test your already weak limits, “... You show up 45 minutes late! Now you're going to have to share your tips with Jake.”

You stop in your tracks and turn to him, “...What?”

“Are you even fuckin’ listening?” You can see his expression grow with frustration, “You weren’t here to open, I called Jake and he started you off by taking orders at the bar. Go take over the dining for him- and share your fucking tips with him!”

Fuck. 

You're on your third round, while Jake is mending to his first. It's no longer the alcohol making you feel buzzed, it's him. He's smiling and laughing, telling you how happy he was that he could play good music for the bar- half sarcastic and half serious. You're loosening up,  laughing with him, playing around and trying to give him your best doe eyes. Your legs are turned to face him, crossed, trying to hold in the slick that's starting between your thighs. Your leg brushes his slightly, tempted to creep further. 

“Did you like the set?” He asks. 

“Hell yeah!” Why did you say that?

“I thought you might not be able to hear the music through your laser focus on my dick,” he states. You stop. What did he say? I’m perplexed by his question. Did you imagine this? Should you have passed on this third round? “C’mon, you didn’t think you were being subtle did you?” 

You're trying to form words, but you keep stuttering and stumbling through the words. Your thoughts are spinning like a Rolodex trying to find the right response. You eventually land on, “I was just surprised to see you out of your usual jeans and work shirt… and in those boots!” 

“Sure…” He laughs and pats your leg, “It was nice to see a familiar face in the crowd,”

He turns to smirk at you. His lips are full. Slick with the whiskey sour. They’re curled up to the left side of his face. He starts to blush and you notice your once again staring for too long. He turns to look out to the crowd. You break your gaze for a moment to look at your drink, only to slowly glance back at him, craning your neck slightly. 

His profile is fucking stunning. His eyes are deep, and he has this tired yet excited look in his eye. He has this gorgeous round face that still somehow has sharp accentuated features. He’s still wearing that half smile and pretending not to notice you peering at him. You’re so close to him now, smelling the distinct smell of sweat and cologne.  What is that smell? Sandalwood? Vanilla? It doesn't matter. At least you're close enough to him to even be breathing him in. 

You stop and realize his hand still hasn’t left your leg. The pat has turned into a hold right above the knee. This has to mean something. Your legs are still crossed, holding in what so desperately wants to be released. You look back at him, trying your best to look calm and not completely hopeless. His hair is loose from the usual low bun he sports behind the bar. You can’t believe how long it is. Some of the loose strands of hair are still stuck to his glossy forehead. You give in to impulse and swipe the clung pieces from the sweat. Your hand grazing the edges of his face, tucking the hair with the rest. 

Your adventurous hand wants to linger. You are definitely overstepping and begin to pull away. He turns to face you, his face falling into your palm. You can't help but smile softly. You can see him entirely now, his eyes, his stupid perfect nose with its petite ring, the hair that frames his face perfectly, those thick eyebrows… ugh. You pull your hand away, but his hand meets yours on its return to your lap. Holding it gently, melting you into the wooden stool. 

“Hi sunshine,” he says to you in an entirely different voice than before. It's sultry, velvety… sexy. 

“Hi,” You reply, feeling a rush of shyness wash over you, still unsure what the fuck is even happening. 

There is no real lunch rush at this bar. Fleet’s has been around for quite some time and the appeal of it has faded away almost completely. Anyone who shows up before 6 has been coming here for the past 30 years and are by far the easiest customers I could have. They tip well for people who seemingly don’t work on a Thursday, and don’t bother you except for a drink every 20 minutes. 

Jake and you don't communicate during the first half of this shift, except for the glances we keep giving each other when you pick up orders at the end of the bar. You don’t know what to say to him. You don’t want to come across as desperate to him. You don’t even know what last night means. “You know we shouldn’t do this” keeps echoing in your brain. Why shouldn’t we have?

Maybe today is an example of why we shouldn’t have. 

Somehow you’ve ended up in his car. Maybe he finds your awkwardness charming. Or maybe he knows 3 whiskey sours is enough whiskey sours that you shouldn’t be driving yourself home. 

The car is an old convertible that has clearly been on its last ride for years. You’re still feeling unsure from the interaction only moments before. You want to be close to him, but you’re still fighting that desperation that's looming deep in you. 

His hair is cascading behind him, moving in unison with the wind. It's fucking magical. No strands are falling into his face, it's all just flowing in one swift sweep behind him. Classical rock is playing through the radio, echoing into the backstreets that lead to your apartment. Although he’s right it's really hard to focus on the music when all you can think about is a bulge sitting in his lap. 

He turns to smile at you; a slight grin of enjoyment. He switches his hands on the leather steering wheel, so he can reach over to touch you.  He reaches his hand over the center console and grabs your inner thigh. Oh my god, he wants you too. He slowly takes his calloused hands up and down your thigh. Fuck. How does he know that's your favorite? 

You haven’t spoken a word in the ride other than giving him your address. You want to say more, but you don’t want to spoil the moment and say something stupid again. He senses your shyness, and your apprehension, and cuts the tension in the air. 

“If you’re wondering if I’m into you,” he says, letting the words hang in the air for a moment, “Of course I fucking am.” 

Your heart is practically bursting through your chest. You get lost in the words again, but somehow manage some bratty response, “Of course you are,” you reply. 

He gawks at you, sarcastically, knowing you're trying to be funny with him. You smile and bury your face into your shoulder. You’ve never been this shy with men before, in fact, you’ve always led the flirting and seduction. But here you are now, letting him take control of you like you're already his. You don’t mind though; you enjoy this chase. 

You push the door of the back hallway open and keep your head down. Only three tables are occupied on the dining side, you walk over to them to inform them you would be taking over for Jake. 

You finish introducing yourself to the third table and finally turn your head to the bar. Jake’s doing inventory on the bar, his usual regular sitting in the corner seat, reading the paper. He turns away from the bottles to write something down and looks up at you. Eyes eager, but full of confusion. 

You’re half drunk fumbling with the keys trying to fit the metal into the lock. He hasn’t revealed too much of his excitement yet. He hasn’t even kissed you yet. But you can feel a look of admiration happening behind you. You finally get the key in and unlock the door to the silent apartment. It’s a completely different vibe than the bar. Silent. Intimate. You walk in and awkwardly place your hands in your pocket and spin to see his reaction. 

“Home sweet home!” You say, hands still in their awkward pocket position behind you. 

You fight off the embarrassment of it not being completely spotless the first time he sees it. He closes the door behind him and slowly moves towards you. “Why is it exactly how I imagined it would be?” 

You giggle. “I don’t know, I guess my personality picked all my decor,”

He smiles looking around the kitchen and peering into the living room. He’s still moving closer to you as you stand there, waiting for his next move. 

“Do you have anything to drink?” He asks, “Not a good host so far, you haven’t offered me anything,” He's playing with you. 

Flustered, you release your hands from your pockets and walk over to the silver bar cart that sits between the kitchen and the living room. You reach your hands towards the cart, “Pick your poison, sir,”

“Ooh sir,” he purrs, “I like that.”

The heat of the moment is slowly writhing through you, warming your face, and... As much as you don’t want to admit it yet, pussy. He comes over to stand next to you. He places his arm over the small of your back. You try to choke down that distraught moan that wants to escape your lips. He takes his other hand to tilt and move around the bottles, inspecting the labels before deciding on whiskey.

“More?” You ask. 

“Sunshine, there's never too much whiskey,” he replies in that velvet tone again. 

He removes his hand from your waist. You go to reach for a glass, but before you can, you see he’s already taken the liberty of suckling straight from the bottle. He lets out a cool ahh. 

“You want some?” He asks, even though it's yours and of course you want it. You nod in response. “Open”

Confused, you half open your mouth, expecting him to pour some in, but he doesn't. He takes another swig himself and pushes himself up against you. He releases the amber liquid into your mouth, warm from its hold. He’s so fucking… Ooh shit, that burns. The whiskey falls back down into your belly. You swallow and he is pleased with himself. Some of the whiskey is dribbled around your mouth, and he takes the lead in removing it. 

He caresses your face, moving the alcohol away from your lips. You’re on the brink of release. Jumping off into the deep end. He pushes himself closer to your hips. And you can feel him. His cock slowly grinds further and further towards you. You're practically ready for him to take you right there. He puts the bottle back on the cart and turns his full attention to you. The eye contact is intense and full of excited uncertainty. He moves his hand up your back to cradle your neck. Neither of us can wait one more second. 

Around three the bar starts to lose some of the action. The lack of the customers draws you to continue staring at him more and more. Why do you have this obscene staring problem? You want him to be thinking of you just as much as you are of him, but you seriously doubt it. 

You finish cleaning up the tables in the dining room and sit down to restock the salt and pepper shakers, turning yourself away from him. You make it halfway through the side work before you feel it again. His presence hovering over you. It takes all of your might not to turn and look into those brown eyes again. But you want to, you really really want to see him again. All of him. 

His hand pulls you into his face and you become one. Lips touching so softly, unready for the ferality that was about to occur. He pulls you further into him. His tongue beckons for yours and you allow the dance. Faces smashing together, exploring each other's lips. You can taste the whiskey on him, and for some reason, it tastes so much better in his mouth than yours. He walks both of you slowly, and pushes up against the wall. 

You relinquish your self-control and submit to him, reaching up to explore the rest of his body. Hands combing through hair, moving up and down his back, feeling the muscles and unexplored areas. His hand moves down to your ass, groping it gently at first but getting more ferocious with each passing moment. 

You’re drinking him up, getting lost in whose body is whose. His wet warm kisses are leaving you desperate, wanting it all. While still kissing you, he leans down to grab under your knees and lift you, your legs wrapped around his torso. He's caressing your ass, and gently tugging at the scalp of your hair. Fuck this is everything you’ve been wanting for the months you’ve been working together. All that pent-up desire is finally happening right in front of you. He walks you a few steps to the couch and sits; leaving you in his lap. 

His cock is desperate to meet your pussy, you can feel it practically bursting through his jeans. But you know he won’t let you have that just yet. He’s no longer being gentle with you, it’s him leading, and you’re doing everything he wants. His cock feels huge under you, and he can sense your excitement for it. Jake grabs your hips and steers you up and down his cock. You didn’t realize before but you're both moaning. Not quiet whimpers, but pornographic hums between breaths. He shifts your body below him, swiftly taking dominance over you. The way he moves you so effortlessly is fucking hot. 

You can feel his cock now, it's pressing between your legs, and you're practically purring for it. He lifts his arm and gifts your neck with his hands. You pull away. 

He looks at you, perplexed. 

It’s not that you didn’t like it, you just maybe didn’t expect it. You’ve never done that before. And just as it all started- it stops. He pulls his hand away and his dominance is shoved back down. He stands up and slowly steps away from you. Brushes through his hair, pushing it back out of his face… He’s coming into some form of clarity.  

“Wait!” You call out to him, “Come back,” urging him to stay in the moment with you. 

He inches a step closer to you and places his hand on your shoulder. He says your name. You choose to continue playing the silent game. Are you angry at him? Maybe. That feeling of insecurity has been bubbling in you all day, but you have tried to ignore it. Why didn’t he stay? Why didn’t he say anything before he left? 

“Alright, whatever petty shit this is- it isn’t happening,” he says, intensely this time. He grabs your arm and pulls you from your chair, forcing you to turn to face him. His strength and dominance stuns you. He has this juxtaposed look of sincerity and seriousness to him. He’s hard to read in this state. “Great now that I have your attention, we have to talk.”

He turns to look back at you. His eyes are bare of emotion. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I just haven’t been… you know... choked… before… ” your voice trails off. 

“Oh,” He says, turning himself fully to you. Is there a hint of embarrassment in his voice?

“Please, I…” You hesitate, nervous to reveal too much. 

“Please what?” He's smirking again. Still standing looking across to you. 

The shyness comes back to you, you feel unsure of being this vulnerable with him, “I just have been thinking about this for a while,”

He looks down at his still-hard cock and rubs it softly, “Yeah me too…” The tension is building again, but you’re back to square one. 

“I think we should…” Fuck! Say it! Stop sounding so unsure. 

“You know we shouldn’t do this,” he says, while unbuttoning his pants. He wants it too. Maybe just as much as you did. 

Your judgment was far too clouded, the steps had already started- the act already unfolding. And you sat there silent, unsure of why this would be a bad idea at all. 

He’s still only unbuttoned, waiting for you. You are in complete awe of his beauty, in awe of this talent he has to leave you speechless… You can see the outline of his hard cock, begging to be freed from his pants. He runs his hands over the front of his jeans; twitching with excitement. 

Your absence of words means he will not move further- unless you permit him. He walks back over to you, lifting his hand to hold your chin in his palm. He steers you to look upwards at him. You gaze up at him. His soft brown eyes gaze back at you. The eyes you’ve looked at so many times, hoping they would look at you like this. Deep with lust, crazed with some primal need to taste us. You still can’t believe he wants this- he wants… you. 

He brings his face closer to yours. Squeezing his hands around your jaw. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks. 

You nod your head slowly, showing him your approval. By now the tension is so thick. His lips are so close. I lean forward towards him, but he dodges your attempt. His lips move towards your ear, his hand moving up to hold the underside of your head, caressing it gently. You can feel all the hairs on your body stand up as his cheek touches yours- as skin meets with skin. 

He whispers, “I need you to say the words.” 

You let out a quiet whimper- melting like putty into his hands.  “Jake, please fuck me.”

“That's my girl,” 

Everything had resumed right at the pace where it left off. He leans back over you, continuing to kiss you. He grabs your outer thigh and pulls you closer into him. The primal need for him is growing inside, just like the wetness inside of your pants. He reaches his hand up your shirt to find your bra, reaching under the wire and firmly grasping your breast. Just this simple act of touching is sending you into the deep end.

“I have to see these,” he says playing with you, “You won’t believe how many shifts I spent trying to guess what they look like,”

He lifts you to remove your shirt. Everything moving faster now. With one swipe of his hand, your bra detaches and falls from your body. He reveals your nude torso and a fire lights in his eyes. 

“Fuck.” Now the desperation is on his end. His dreams are coming true. “They’re even better…”

You giggle at his admiration for your tits. His hand moves up to caress your breast, moving his fingers to the bud of your nipple. He brushes over it, back and forth, hardening it between under his thumb. You sigh a moan. He can’t tease either of you for much longer and takes the initiative, putting your breast into your mouth. Swiping his tongue over your already sensitive nipple. 

“Mmmm Jake,” You moan to him.  

He’s moaning too, excited to have you in his mouth. He releases your breast and starts kissing up your chest back to your mouth. The kissing is getting sloppier, no one is focused on precision or neatness anymore. You return the favor of pleasure by reaching into his unbuttoned pants. You run your hands over his tight boxer briefs. His cock is huge. Thick. Jumping at your touch. He moans loudly through breaths. You want to feel him, you want to touch his skin. No, no, it's not just want; it's need. You reach into his pants to grab his bare cock. 

He stops in his tracks and lifts his head to meet your eyes. He evidently wasn’t expecting you to be so forward. 

He lets out a small chuckle through his labored moans. “You little whore, you can’t wait could you?”

The name. Another thing you weren’t used to, but you liked it. The name drips through your ears, sending goosebumps down your spine. You wanted to be his whore. You liked being that. 

He’s starting to move back down to your neglected breast, which inevitably pushes his cock out of your reach. He caresses the nipple in swirling patterns. He hasn’t even reached where you want him most, but still he manages to send shock waves through your body. No man has ever made you feel this way.

 He’s not attached to your breast for long, he has a plan. He moves down your torso, kissing the path between your breasts, down your torso, pushing himself backward, down to your…

“Not yet,” He says, breaking himself from his path, “Be patient.”

He kisses the band above your jeans. Oh, please take them off. You’re so ready. You’ve been soaked for nearly the entire night. You look down at him, admiring the beauty and his devotion of care. You help sweep the hair out of his face, mostly to tell him it's okay to keep going, but also so you can get a better look. He unbuttons your pants and looks back up at you, satisfied with the choices he's making. The anticipation is killing you. He yanks at your jeans, pulling them off in 3 swift pulls. You are thankful you chose to wear that sexy black thong, it's almost like you knew he’d be the one taking them off of you tonight. 

“Oh baby, these are almost too good to take off,” He says, playing with you, “My little slut was ready for me huh?” 

You whimper in excitement. He knows he has you at his will. He runs his hands across your abdomen, gently caressing you, dancing across your needing clit. He chooses not to take off the underwear just yet. Instead, he's kissing the areas around it, your thighs, pubic bone, and then planting one final kiss on your aching pussy. He stops to admire your body, you can see the lust in his eyes. 

“Mmm” he moans, “I need to know what you taste like,”

He places his thumb directly over your clit, circling it, soft with his touch, but you want him to continue further. 

“Do you want me to eat you out?” He asks. 

You nod, at a loss for words again. 

“I need you to say it,” 

“Yes.” You respond, half conscious in a daze of nervousness and arousal.

He smirks at you. You know that teasing look already, “You don’t sound like you really want it,” he jokes, “Beg for me, baby.”

“Please Jake,” It's not hard for you to find the desperation, “Please sir, please… please”

Your groveling is enough for him to start. He pulls your thong to the side and dives into your cunt. He's exploring you with his tongue, eager to lick every inch of you. You let out a wild gasping moan. He’s better than you’d imagined. 

“Fuck baby… you’re so fucking wet,” 

“I’ve been wet… Thinking about you all night,” you choke out between gasps. 

He starts lapping at your clit and moaning wild animalistic noises. If anyone else were listening you’d both be ashamed of the noises you're making. He’s taking you in, practically hungry for your pussy. He looks amazing while doing it too, the determination and precision he has to make you feel fucking amazing. 

Before you even realize what's happening, he has his middle digit sliding into you, curling up, grazing your g-spot. “Oh fuck.. Oh… Jake,” You’re in agony. You know now that what they say about guitar players is true. He makes you feel so good. You’re getting so close already. 

“You better come for me,” 

Your breaths are heaving, inching towards orgasm. The moans signal to him that he's reached the perfect rhythm. You reach up again to pull the hair out of his face, allowing you to see how gorgeous he looks pleasuring you. His fingers and tongue swirling and stroking your pussy. He inserts another finger and you can barely hang on anymore. You whine with him, “Yes…” He's stroking all of the sensitive spots, pulling you closer to finishing. 

“Come for me baby,” he says, while increasing his speed. Tonight you have become his instrument, and he intends on playing with you. “I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.”

His dominance is a new side that you are excited to explore. He’s comforting you with his control. His hair becomes entwined further in your fingers, being pulled by your tight fist. He doesn’t seem to mind, he knows that means he’s pushing you. A few more swift strokes of him and your unraveling. Releasing yourself into his fingers. The walls of your pussy tightly squeezing onto his fingers. You let out an exhausted moan. 

He reaches his tongue down to taste you. 

“Oh fuck,” he says, barely inches from your cunt, “I wish I could’ve tasted this sooner…”

You're still twitching with the overstimulation he caused your body. Your clit pulsing between your legs. But he wasn’t done pushing you yet. He continues to explore you with your tongue. Your legs are shaking so hard with each move he makes. It’s almost too much to handle. 

You whine, “Please Jake.. Sir, please…” 

His last move is his most devious. He puts his tongue at the bottom of your cunt and slowly licks forward to your clit. He looks directly into your eyes as he makes his last flick over your clit. He laughs softly, obviously pleased with how he’s already sent you so far. 

You look up to find him already undressing himself, his shirt is off, revealing his soft, slender figure. He’s so tan, and has this slight muscular build… Absolute perfection. You move your eyes down his body to see his cock in his hand. Wrapping his hands around himself. Wow. It's finally been revealed from his pants and it looks even better than it felt when you were grinding on him. He’s already wet with precum, sliding his hands up and down his shaft.  He sputters out a stream of spit to lubricate himself. Fuck that was so smooth. He licks your come off of his lips. His mouth is slightly agape, admiring your body through heavy eyes. 

“Wow,” Is the only word that you can mutter. You’re shocked at how vulnerable he’s made you. You’ve already been in his grasp all night, but feeling him for real was just too satisfying; and this was just the start. 

“You like it?” He asks, obviously proud of his body. 

You lean forward to take it from him. It's glistened with his spit, and you want to taste it. You slide your hand up and down the shaft, and can see his muscles tightening in response. “It's fucking gorgeous.”

“Do you want to suck it for me?” He asks you as if you weren’t already heading there. He’s whining, practically begging for his turn like you begged for yours, “You want my cock in your mouth? Huh?... Does my little whore want me to fill her mouth?”

You look up at him. His dominance is intoxicating. “Yes,” you respond.

“Take it like a good girl, okay?”

He grabs the nape of your neck and pulls your face to him. He envelopes your mouth. Holding back a gag and taking him as far as you can. He’s too big to fit entirely, so you use your hand at the base of the shaft to cover what can’t be swallowed. Using your hand as a guide; sliding up and down. 

“Fuck-” You can feel him tensing in your mouth. His cock is jumping inside you, excited to be here. “Yeah… Keep doing that.” 

You're happy it's your turn to show him how good you can make him feel. At first, you try to hold back the gagging noises that are coming out, but he keeps pushing your head further, signaling he wants to hear them. The noises are truly pornographic and quite honestly might turn you on as much as it turns him on. You find your rhythm and start to move faster, taking him in as he guides your head around him. You place your hand on him to brace yourself as you take him in. You can practically feel the vibrations of his moans echo through. 

“You’re too good at this,” he whispers, “You’re gonna make me come already.”

He balls your hair into his hands and pulls you away. Now only a stream of spit connects your mouth to his cock. 

“You’ve been such a good girl for me,” He lowers himself so he can look down on you, “Do you think you deserve my cock now?”

You already know the right words to say, “Yes sir,”

His hand is on your lower back, something that would have seemed sweet the night before, but now he’s practically pushing you into the hallway. He’s moving you toward the back office. It's empty so your manager must have stepped out for his usual 30-minute smoke break in the parking lot. You stand in the doorway, blocking the situation from moving forward. Plus, there's barely any room in there amongst the invoices and your manager's shit. 

He gives you one last shove into the office and you turn to face him, offended by his man-handling, crossing your arms to show your distaste. 

“What?!” You say in an aggressive tone.

“What, me?” He asks, matching your aggression

“I have work to do out there!”

“C’mon really? Filling salt & pepper shakers?”

“...Yes.” 

 “What's going on out there? Why are you being weird?!” 

You throw your hands up in the air. His question snaps you into reality and your insecurities are coming to light. The hangover that you thought was lost is trying to resurface in your anxiety. “I don’t know.” 

He drops his head, repeating your name in a slow painful voice. “What?! Did I do something?” 

You pause. Did he not think of anything this morning when he left? Were you making a big deal of waking up alone? You decide to continue with the pettiness. “You did absolutely nothing,” which in your mind is true. He didn’t do the things you thought he should have done. Like maybe say goodbye or explain his absence. 

“Nothing doesn’t mean nothing,” 

Your frustration is growing, “What is even going on?” You reach your hands out to gesture “... What is this?”

He scoffs at you and laughs. “I knew we shouldn’t have done anything,” he turns to open the door.

He's pleased that you’ve learned his new name so easily. God he looks so good from this angle.

“It will be all yours baby,” he says, pulling your hair along with the rest of you further back. He moves his face to your neck, gently marking his lips on you, “On one condition.”

A condition? What does that even mean? 

“Since you're new to what I like,” he says between planting sloppy kisses, moving closer to your ear, “We’re going to use safe words, okay?” Safe words. Like that BDSM stuff? “Nothing to worry about, but I don’t want to scare either of us anymore, okay?”

You nod in response

He moves his hands up your body now, tracing your skin with his fingers, “Just like a stoplight, okay baby?” You think you know what he means, but he still explains it to you, “Red means stop, yellow means you want to slow down or you want time, and green…”

Oh you know what green means, “Green means you really fucking want it.” 

He pulls back slowly to smile at you, “Good girl,” the praise is fucking killing you, “I’m going to fucking rail you now, okay?”

You are drenched with excitement. He reaches under you and across your back, using his strength to flip you onto your stomach. His hand now across your midsection. You can hear him starting to play with himself again. He reaches back up to your neck.

“Green?” 

“Fucking green,” you reply, excited to start this journey with him. 

He grabs the sides of your neck, and pulls you into him. The tip of his cock breaches you. Fuck. 

“Fuck…” He moans. 

He starts slow rhythmic movements, not allowing you to feel him in full yet. He uses his spare hand to smack your ass. Hard. He’s dangerous, and you like it. He reaches over your ass to grab your hip, his fingers holding tightly onto you. In one quick thrust he presents all of himself to your tight pussy. Fuck. You were unprepared for him. His cock pressing itself into your cervix. It’s twitching inside you, and you know he likes what he feels. 

“Does my little slut like feeling all of me?” 

Oh yes she does. But you are again at a loss of words. His mounting is emptying your brain with each pump of his cock. You wildly moan, voicing your excitement the best you can. 

He leans down next to your ear, “Words baby, I wanna hear you,” He slows his movements, “I want to hear how much my slut likes my cock. I want to hear you when I fuck you,”

He stops moving entirely, waiting for your response, “I fucking love your cock sir.”

“Good girl.”

He resumes his thrusting. He releases his hold from your neck so he can use both of his hands to force you closer to him. His hands forming bruising holds on your hips. The noises that your bodies make when they smack together is fucking filthy. Your cunt is tightening around his mass, unable to bear his pounding. He’s pushing you into a realm of pleasure no man has ever been able to bring you to. Any inhibitions that were holding you together are being released. Months worth of sexual tension coming to fruition

He reaches his arm back under you to find your clit. You’ve lubricated it quite nicely, thanks to his help. You know what he's gearing up for. He’s just barely grazing the surface, giving you nothing but everything all at once. 

“Beg for it,” he demands. One hard slap raps across your ass.

You’re not even sure how you would be able to function if he made you come again. Scared and excited you reply, “Please,” He’s railing you harder now, and you can’t help but let out a yelp, “Oh please Jake- sir… Please… I want to come.”

He uses his free hand to press down on the back of your head, and your face into the cloth couch; bracing himself for a deeper pounding. Garbled moans escape your mouth. His other hand presses into your clit, circling it, coaxing it into release. He makes it too easy. Your pussy reacts, sending him into utter euphoria. Forcing his body to let out soft pleasurable moans. 

“Mmmm I’m not sure if you deserve to come yet…” he says. 

Of course I do. I’ve been so good. “Please, please,” you're groveling now, “I want your cock covered in my come.”

Those words were enough to release you from any doubts he had. He’s grunting your name now, trying to hold himself back from pleasure. “You’re such a good girl for me,” He pulls your hair up towards him, your body moving like a rag doll. “Come all over my cock baby,”

A few more strokes of your clit and you release onto him. The moans you both voice are deep, passionate… fulfilling. You can feel him start to fill you with his warmth. Both of your excitement mixing deep inside you. Your legs are shaking already from the overstimulation, and you can’t stop your body from the twitching. He's still freeing himself, his cock pulsing. He unhands your hair and kisses your neck softly. He slowly glides himself out from your full cunt. Both of you moan with overstimulation and satisfaction.

He turns you over and lays you back down in your original position. Venturing below to the mess that's between your legs. He tastes you softly, trying to be careful of your already exhausted pussy. His tongue feels smooth and refreshing, almost like he's trying to heal the well-worth it damage. 

He removes himself from you and leans forward to meet your mouth. His face is glistening with your- our come. He kisses you, making sure you taste exactly what he just did. He kisses you only for a few moments, leaving you wanting more of this gentle Jake. 

“Don’t forget what we taste like, okay?” He smiles. 

He pulls away from you, and reaches for his boxer briefs. He slips them back and falls backward onto the couch with exhaustion. He gently guides you to his chest, laying you down on him. You’re still in an utter state of shock, unsure how you were deserving of all of this treatment. You try to slow your breathing and cool your body down. You feel fucking amazing. 

“Jake, stop!” you yell to him, scared he might actually leave. His hand is on the knob but he's not turning it.

“Why didn’t you stay?” You finally asked it. 

“I actually may need help getting to bed tonight,” You say, looking up at him, “Can you take me?”

He laughs, you’re undoubtedly stroking his ego, but maybe a walk to the bed means laying in bed… Together. You’re scared he might not want to go. He gently brushes the hair out of your face and holds you in his hand. 

“Of course sunshine,” he replies. 

He's gently guiding you past the hallway and into the bedroom. Any other day you’d be slightly ashamed of the state your room is in, but you’ve already been so vulnerable with him that you forget to care

He turns to you, “You’re mad I didn’t stay?”. 

“Yeah, I just thought that meant that you didn't…”

He steps back over to you and grabs your shoulders gently, almost lovingly, “Whoa whoa, you think because I didn’t stay, that I didn’t absolutely fucking love your pussy?”

He helps lift you into your bed, and turns to head towards the door. 

“You can stay,” You call out to him. Hoping he’ll accept your offer. He turns to you, wearing his classic smirk beneath the loose frayed hairs surrounding his face. You pat the empty spot next to your bed. “I promise my bed will feel so nice after all your hard work,”

He accepts your invite and walks slowly over to the bed. You both giggle. How can this actually all have just happened? The thought of it is utterly ridiculous. 

His vulgar words are melting you, just like they did the previous night. “Well…I said you could stay… And I just thought you would… You know… Stay?” 

“I just didn’t want to overstep, or take it too fast,” He replies, “I didn’t want to do too much too fast… I kinda like the chase of it all.”

He pulls himself into the sheets. Pulling you over towards him, slipping your head underneath his arm, and pulling your waist towards his. He runs his fingers through your hair, and you place your hand on his chest, feeling the faint beats of his heart. You’re closer than you’ve ever been with him. Experiencing a different moment of intimacy. 

He closes his heavy eyes. He worked so hard. He devoted himself to you tonight. You look up at him through your own sleepy eyes. His face is even more beautiful in its resting position, soft and still slightly damp from the act. You reach up to pet his cheek. He reacts to your touch with a smile. 

“Goodnight little slut,” He jokes. 

You tap his cheek with a playful slap. “Oh shut up.”

“Wait, so…” Every thought you had assumed was incorrect. You’re trying to reorganize yourself. “Does that mean?”

“Does that mean that I want to fuck you again?” He squeezes your arms harder, “Yes… But you have to be patient with all of the other stuff, okay?”

You’re embarrassed now of how petty you were acting. He didn’t deserve the cold shoulder, but that doesn’t mean you won't let go of your bratty attitude, “Hmm. I’m not sure if that's worth it…” You laugh letting him know you’re not serious in the slightest. He reaches up your back and holds the nape of your neck. His demeanor is changing into the dominant figure he was previously. 

“Shut up.”

He leans in to kiss you, holding you in his hand firmly. The kiss is absolving both of your behavior, it's a fresh bandaid over a minor cut. You accept his embrace and return your tongue into his mouth. God you could do this forever. 

If you read this far- THANK YOU! :)

Tending Part 2

[todorokis-girl]

Getting back with your ex? - Suna Rintarou (pt 1)

(part 2) After a painful breakup and years apart, Y/N and Suna Rintarou are forced to work together again in the world of professional volleyball. When an unexpected injury and a work trip to Okinawa bring them closer, unresolved feelings and old wounds resurface. Amidst professional obligations and personal turmoil, they must navigate their complicated past and uncertain future. Can they overcome their history and find their way back to each other, or will the lingering pain keep them apart forever?

masterlist

I shake slightly as I walk into the Olimpic team training area, bag and binder in hand. The imposing structure of the stadium looms above me, filled with the echoes of bouncing volleyballs and distant shouts. The Japan media agency was recently activated to manage the promotions and media activities for the team, and I was assigned as their specific manager. Lucky me. Kuroo deserved to be beheaded, it was his job to promote them anyway, he could do it by himself! Ok, that would be unrealistic, and I’m just pissed. Kuroo did NOT deserve to be beheaded.

Taking a deep breath, I try to steady my nerves, but I only shake more the deeper I get into the stadium. Anyone would be thrilled to work with them—actually, everyone was thrilled. I think I was the only one not foaming at the mouth to manage them; yet I think that was my downfall. Damn you, indifference. In reality, I wasn’t indifferent. In any other circumstance, I’d foam at the mouth like everyone else for the job. Yet, Suna Rintaro was a member of this team. Of course he is. I would’ve given my left arm for it to have been Osamu instead.

Suna and I dated in high school. If anything was known about me in those days, it was that I drooled for my boyfriend. As the manager for the Inarizaki team, I most definitely gave him preferential treatment, and Osamu loved to bitch about it. I missed those days.

I was head over heels, down on my knees for this man. And then he became a professional volleyball player. To quote him directly, “I don’t have the time for you.” Yet weeks later, I started seeing magazine articles of him out with different models. No time, my ass. Just say you don’t love me and move on.

I took the deepest breath I could muster and walked into the court area, laser-focused on making it to the coach first. The court was a whirlwind of activity, players diving, spiking, and shouting encouragements. My heart pounded louder with each step. I needed to ask for the remaining time from practice to talk and get to know the players as much as I could. When the coach finally spotted me, he looked me up and down with a scrutinizing gaze, then stared into my soul. Intimidating man. I smiled and extended my hand to him once I was close enough.

“Hello, sir, I’m L/N Y/N. I’m the team's new media manager, Kuroo Tetsuro had called to notify ahead of time. I was told I could have the last hour of practice to talk to the team and get to know them, if that’s okay with you, of course.”

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze piercing through my façade of calm, and gave a deep sigh. “Yes.”

I smiled and stood back, giving him the space to address the team when he thought it prudent. “Everyone, head to the showers and meet this young lady in the conference room in 10.”

A chorus of “Yes, sir” rang around the court, followed by the sound of sneakers squeaking on the floor. The players began to disperse, casting curious glances my way. Before anyone could properly look at me, I bowed to the coach and attempted to make a run to the conference room after being given directions.

“Y/N.” I stopped in my tracks, my eyes widening as I recognized the voice of Suna.

“Who?”

“Y/N, c’mon.”

“I really don’t know who you’re talking about. I don’t know this... Y/N, was it?”

“I can see it’s you. I know it’s you. I’d recognize your back anywhere.”

I spun around immediately, ready to chew him out for what he was insinuating, but I was met by his bright smile, almost as if he was expecting it. His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Yeah, no doubt about it. That’s my girl.”

I stopped the words that were about to spill out of my mouth and replaced them with a different set. “I’m not your girl anymore.” I looked down at my watch, more for symbolic effect than to check the time. “I will definitely be telling Coach Foster if you’re late to the conference room. You have five minutes left.”

Without giving him a chance to process what had happened, I turned again and headed pointedly to the conference room, my steps echoing my determination.

As I marched towards the conference room, my thoughts were a whirlwind. The confrontation with Suna had set my nerves alight, but I couldn’t afford to lose my focus. The team’s future media presence rested on my shoulders, and I had to be professional, no matter how tangled my past with Suna was.

The conference room was a stark contrast to the bustling court. It was quiet and orderly, with a long table in the center surrounded by sleek chairs. I set my bag and binder down, pulling out my notes and arranging them meticulously. I had just enough time to compose myself before the players started trickling in.

First came Sakusa Kiyoomi, his expression inscrutable as he took a seat at the far end of the table. He gave a curt nod, acknowledging my presence without a word. Next were Hinata Shoyo and Bokuto Koutarou, chatting animatedly and filling the room with their infectious energy. They greeted me with enthusiastic smiles, making me feel a bit more at ease.

Finally, Suna walked in, casual and confident, as if our earlier exchange hadn’t affected him at all. He took a seat near the middle, flashing me a knowing grin. I ignored him and turned to face the team.

“Thank you all for coming,” I began, trying to keep my voice steady. “As you know, my agency has been hired to manage your media presence; Kuroo Tetsuro will handle the rest of the coordinations or team promotions. My goal is to help each of you shine, both on and off the court. I’ll be working closely with you to develop your public personas and ensure you get the recognition you deserve.”

I paused, gauging their reactions. Most of the team seemed receptive, though Sakusa remained impassive. Suna leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching me with an unreadable expression.

“To start, I’d like to get to know each of you better,” I continued. “Understanding your personalities, interests, and goals will help me tailor our approach to suit you individually. We’ll go around the table, and each of you can share a bit about yourselves. Let’s start with you, Hinata.”

Hinata beamed and launched into a lively account of his journey in volleyball, his eyes shining with passion. His enthusiasm was contagious, and soon, the rest of the team was sharing their stories, laughing and bonding over shared experiences. Even Sakusa offered a few guarded sentences, and I could sense the walls between us beginning to crumble.

When it was Suna’s turn, he spoke with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, detailing his rise to fame with practiced ease. I couldn’t help but notice the glances he threw my way, testing my reactions. “I even had a girlfriend once, with me all the way to the start of my professional career; can’t believe I let ‘er go” I met his gaze evenly, refusing to let him see how much he affected me.

“Thank you for sharing, Suna,” I said, cutting him off before he could drag out his story any longer. “It’s clear that each of you brings something unique to the team, and I’m excited to work with you all.”

I glanced at my notes, ready to move on to the next part of the meeting. “Now, let’s talk about some of the upcoming promotional events and media opportunities. We have a few scheduled interviews, photo shoots, and public appearances. I’ll need your cooperation and input to make sure we present you in the best possible light.”

The discussion flowed smoothly, with the players offering ideas and feedback. Despite the initial tension, the atmosphere gradually became more collaborative. By the end of the meeting, I felt a sense of accomplishment. We were laying the foundation for a successful partnership, and I was determined to prove myself as their media manager.

As the team began to disperse, Suna lingered behind, his eyes following me as I gathered my things. I braced myself for another confrontation, but he simply leaned against the table, watching me with an amused expression.

“You handled that well, Y/N,” he said, his tone surprisingly sincere. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but you’ve still got that fire.”

I paused, meeting his gaze. “I’m here to do a job, Suna. That’s all.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Sure, if that’s what you want to believe.”

“What I want to believe? You think I asked for this position?” I was appalled that he was suggesting I deliberately choose this to seek him out.

He gave me a cocky grin and without another word, he pushed off from the table and walked out, leaving me standing there with a mix of emotions. I took a deep breath, pushing aside the memories and focusing on the task at hand. There was a lot of work to be done, and I was ready to face it head-on. Suna was NOT going to make me lose my head. He let me go once, and I had given him all of myself, it wasn’t happening again. Kuroo was definitely getting an earful ‘don’t be so dramatic, It’s gonna be fine’.

I huffed to myself finally stepping out of the room and on my way to my car, my hand automatically reaching for my phone, if I had to vent, Kuroo was getting it.

As I reached my car and slid into the driver's seat, I quickly unlocked my phone and dialed Kuroo's number. The phone rang a few times before his familiar, lazy voice answered.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“What’s up? Seriously, Kuroo? You dumped the Olympic team’s media management on me, that’s what’s up!”

He chuckled, and I could practically hear his smug grin through the phone. “I knew you could handle it. You’re the best we’ve got.”

“Flattery isn’t going to save you,” I snapped, gripping the steering wheel. “You could have at least warned me about Suna being on the team. Do you have any idea how awkward that was?”

There was a brief pause, and then Kuroo sighed. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. You’re professionals, right? Just… don’t let him get to you.”

“Easier said than done,” I muttered. “He’s still as infuriating as ever.”

“Look, just focus on the job. You’re great at what you do, and the team needs you. Besides, Suna’s just one player. Don’t let him distract you.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just… complicated.”

“I know. But you’ve got this. If anyone can turn this team into media darlings, it’s you.”

“Thanks, Kuroo. I’ll do my best.”

“That's my girl,” he said with a note of pride in his voice. “Keep me updated, okay?”

“Will do. And Kuroo?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time, give me a heads-up, will you?”

He laughed. “You got it. Take care, Y/N.”

I hung up and took a few moments to collect myself before starting the car. The drive home was a blur, my mind occupied with thoughts of Suna and the daunting task ahead. By the time I pulled into my driveway, I had resolved to put all personal feelings aside and focus solely on my work.

The next morning, I arrived at the training facility early, armed with my binder and a renewed sense of determination. Today, I had individual meetings scheduled with each player to discuss their personal branding and media strategy. I hoped to gain a deeper understanding of their personalities and how best to present them to the public.

Hinata was first. His energy was infectious, and his enthusiasm for the sport shone through every word he said. We discussed his goals and how to leverage his vibrant personality to connect with fans.

Next was Bokuto, who was equally charismatic but in a more boisterous way. His love for the game was palpable, and I made notes on how to highlight his dynamic presence in interviews and social media.

Sakusa was a bit more challenging. He was reserved and guarded, but I managed to coax out his interests and preferences. We discussed ways to showcase his quieter, more introspective side while still appealing to the team's fanbase.

Finally, it was Suna’s turn. He sauntered into the conference room with his usual nonchalance, sitting down across from me with a smirk.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

I ignored his tone and focused on my notes. “Alright, Suna. I want to understand your goals and how we can present you to the public. What are you hoping to achieve with your media presence?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You really think people care about that stuff?”

“Yes, I do. Your fans want to know more about you than just your performance on the court. They want to connect with you as a person.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. I want to be seen as a serious athlete. I don’t want all that fluff and nonsense. Just focus on my game.”

I nodded, jotting down his words. “Got it. We’ll highlight your dedication and professionalism. Anything else you want to add?”

He studied me for a moment, his gaze intense. “You still care about what people think, don’t you?”

I met his eyes, refusing to back down. “It’s my job to care, Suna. And it’s yours too, whether you like it or not.”

He smirked again, but there was a hint of something softer in his eyes. “You’ve changed, Y/N. You’re tougher now.”

“I had to be,” I replied, packing up my things. “Meeting’s over. Thanks for your time.”

As I walked out of the room, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Suna was watching me, his eyes lingering longer than necessary. I pushed the thought aside and focused on the task at hand. There was still a lot of work to be done, and I was determined to succeed.

Over the next few weeks, I threw myself into my work, coordinating interviews, photo shoots, and public appearances. The players gradually warmed up to me, and we began to build a cohesive media strategy that highlighted their unique strengths.

Despite my initial apprehension, things started to fall into place. The team’s media presence improved, and their popularity soared. Even Sakusa, with his reserved nature, began to open up in front of the camera.

Through it all, Suna remained a constant challenge. He was professional during our meetings, but there was always an undercurrent of tension between us. Yet, I couldn’t deny that working with him pushed me to be better, to stay focused and not let my emotions get in the way.

One evening, after a particularly successful interview session, I found myself alone in the conference room, reviewing the footage. The door creaked open, and Suna walked in, his expression unreadable.

“Hey,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“Hey,” I replied, not looking up from my notes.

He walked over and sat down across from me, his gaze fixed on my face. “You’ve done a good job with the team.”

“Thanks,” I said, still focused on my work. “We’re not done yet, though. There’s always room for improvement.”

“Yeah, but you’ve made a difference. Even I can see that.”

I finally looked up, meeting his eyes. “What do you want, Suna?”

He leaned back in his chair, his expression softening. “I just wanted to say… I’m sorry. For everything. High school, the way I ended things. I was a jerk.”

I blinked, taken aback by his sudden sincerity. “Why now?”

“Because I’ve had a lot of time to think. And seeing you here, working so hard, made me realize how much I messed up.”

I sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and frustration. “I appreciate the apology, Suna. But it doesn’t change what happened.”

He stays silence his eyes seeming to be inspecting my face, as if looking for something else “I know, I still wanted to try” 

I studied his face, searching for any hint of insincerity. But all I saw was genuine regret. “Fine”

He smiled, a real, honest smile that made my heart ache with nostalgia. I hate that I genuinely miss him. 

As he stood up to leave, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders; but a certain, different desire settled in me. I watched him leave, and closed my eyes for a second. It seems watching him leave was all I knew how to do. 

I turned back to my notes. There was still a lot of work to be done, and I was ready to face it head-on, no matter what challenges came my way; but maybe I needed Kuroo to come along with me more often, even if he was busy getting the schedules and making the plans. 

One afternoon, after hours of looking through notes and interview footage, I found myself in the staff lounge, nursing a cup of coffee. The room was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. I was lost in thought when the door opened, and Kuroo walked in, looking as tired as I felt.

“Hey,” he said, flopping down in the chair next to mine. “How’s it going?”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Busy. Exhausting. But good. The team’s doing great.”

Kuroo nodded, taking a sip of his own coffee. “You’re doing an amazing job, Y/N. Glad I choose you to help me out, I don’t know how I’d do it without you”

I smiled, feeling a bit of the tension ease. “Thanks, Kuroo, I apreciate the apreciation; what are you doing here anyway? Mister sports promoter not have a big fancy office at a big fancy building?”

He raised an eyebrow and turned to face me, the scrutiny in his eyes heavy “I want to wear gym clothes every once in a while, and I cant do that at the office. Miss sports media manager” I smiled and nooded, showing I understood. 

I mean, he was right, one of the couple of upside of working in the training arena was the ability of being able to show up in sweats and leggings, as it was the most proper attire. 

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “But seriously, if you need anything, just let me know. We’re in this together, even if I am technically your boss”

“Actually,” I said, glancing at him, “I was thinking if you could come along to a few more of the meetings. Having you there would make things a bit easier.” My voice filled with hope. 

Kuroo looked at me, his expression thoughtful. “Of course. I’ll rearrange my schedule. All the player meetings or someone in particular?”

I felt like a deer caugh in headlights “well… uhm…”

“So just Suna Rintarou?” he asked with a knowing tone, and I couldn’t deny it; I just hoped he would agree to it and not pull the ‘I’m your boss’ card, not that he ever did “Sure, I’ll do the meetings with Suna and pass along the info” 

“Thanks, Kuroo,” I said, feeling a wave of relief wash over me.

He grinned, standing up. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it. Let me know when the meetings with Suna are”

“Will do,” I replied, watching him leave the lounge. As I turned back to my coffee, noticing it was cold. 

I was going to start seeing Suna a lot less often, no more weekly meetings with him, and I would try to make my time in the office a little more unnavailable to him by doing them exclusively during practice hours. This was something high school me would’ve come up with, and I knew that, but I don’t currently have the mental space to come up with something better. 

(part 2)

[i-love-yoi]

Your first kiss

Characters: RW Omori Gang (Sunny, Basil, Aubrey, Mari, Kel, Hero.)

TW: Actions occur after the death of Mari, Suggestive, Fluff, Romantic Relationship, GN! Reader, alcohol.

The most interesting thing that began writing this on March 1, and finished on April 12. In fact, the reason for the absence was that we are the last trimester, control and independent, so I try to learn how much it is more likely to study that there is no triple in the year. You should think, already next year I will go to 9 grade and I'll need to ren PSE ... (public state exam(in Russian is OGE)) and I have issued from school, oh ... And I also repaired on Kazuha (Genshin) and was engaged in characters. Mona was falling, but hope is dying the last.

Sunny

• Okay, let's immediately understand that the first step is to explicitly you-

• Well, it's too humulated for this.

• But of course he will not show it.

• But even thinking about this, it can be easily seen as its pale cheeks acquire a more pinky or red tint.

• But be sure, in the world of dreams, he is the mild bird.

• In the world of dreams you will be like that innocent and unsure anime with a schoolboy, and he's like a real man, having dragged you to myself for the waist, embrace, pressing itself, and you will find your sweet lips on your own, slightly suysid your lower lip, and sharing a more good kiss with you.

• But this is only in the world of his dreams and dreams, in reality he did not even immediately start you hugging, even if you consisted in a relationship for the month of so 5-

• Yes, he can be hung on touch and tactical after the one of the 4th of the year was held, and where his listeners were only 4 of his walls, and the pillow with the blanket, but act first he is afraid, not used to.

• It's better to start with the help of he kisses you on my own cheek so that he himself decides to do so, and not you asked him.

• This will be great progress.

• But I do not think that you can wait for this long time.

• Therefore, if you want to finally normal kisses, everything is in your hands.

• One day you sat along the bednuny bed, about what's bolt, honestly, you do not really feel and remember what you've already said there.

• At one point, you just looked directly into the eyes of the Sunny, not blinking and not taking a look, looking straight into your eyes.

• From this guy slightly foamed, porrhea, and his eyes began to run around the parties, not wanting to keep injured so long.

• You approached him stronger, why your faces were pretty close, so that you have been fully facing his nose with their nose, pressed against each other.

• Now the Sunny was to bring his view, besides how to watch directly in your eyes.

• You severely sighed if it was preparing for something grandiose, which was clearly grandiose.

• A little tilt the head in the side, having released more space, you have even slightly approached face to his face, covering his lips with her.

• He had pretty cold lips and rough, but it did not interfere with you.

• The face of the guy was changed in surprise, and the cheeks were blown as never before blogged.

• He faded the breath, did not move and just as if the goldenbel, turning into a clean stone.

• He held the breath for so long that you were even afraid that he will now fall into the overestimate of oxygen starvation.

• You slightly cover the torso guy with hands, pressing yourself, and trying to deepen the kiss.

• If you are trying to do this, then nothing will come.

• Suddenly you felt like the Sunny slightly walked, and his wet from the saliva tongue slightly began to penetrate you into the mouth, exploring the new territory for him, like a cat that he studied a new apartment.

• This swung you into the shock, but the shock quickly replaced at satisfaction and enjoyment, and you split your languages together, like a chain.

• The language was treated on each other, like sometimes your bodies, because from euphoria, your hormones jumped throughout the body, forcing your back of the body slightly grind.

• In the kiss you then and it's slightly and rarely, but they made from the same pleasure.

• You pressed each other as you can be stronger, as if trying to just merge into one whole, absorbing each other.

• Soon you fall on the bed, Sunny lying on my back, and you lying on it.

• Finally, wherever the minutes of the free, you will freeze your mouth, and from the languages the bridges brings out, which is later destroyed because of the great distance between languages.

• You both are red and red slightly breath.

• Sunny slightly acquires you behind the back in mind, stroking.

• Well, for you two, it was clearly amazing and unforgettable experience, is not it?

Basil

• Listen, for him the recognition-the highest degree of courage and dominance, seriously.

• He and so not very self-confident and calm boy.

• Yes, it seems to me, Basil 24/7 is a wide variety of, but basically disturbing thoughts.

• And they eat it 24/7.

• Of course, when you spend time with you, for it time for them, and they are muffled, but not completely.

• The felt of the most disturbing thoughts continue to overtake it and punish, asmeniously organic parasites, eating by the affording and reflecting it completely, for example as ascarids.

• Because of this, as I think, for Basil recognition in love would be the highest degree of courage, at least for him.

• So, again, the whole destiny of your relationship with Basil is only in your beautiful handling.

• In fact, I advise you to start with gentle and brief kisses in the cheeks or foreheads, such gentle and children's, that you did not dream.

• It is a kind of preparation or something on the like.

• After making the kiss this first time, you will already understand that I mean under the preparation.

• Only from a kiss in the forehead will be quite embarrassed and even blinks.

• First, as I think, it is because the Basil is quite difficult to adapt to changes in life, again because of the alarming thoughts.

• He was afraid that you rejected it, he was afraid of losing you, as one day lost Sunny, that he promised to be together, sharing their hard wear, and in the end he himself and locked in his home for 4 years.

• After all, as they say: "Sunflower can not survive without the sun, but the sun can safely live without a sunflower."

• And you became his personal sun, which is finally with him.

• I also think that Basil has little received compliments, and in general attention from the parents and yes.

• Being a quiet and hard shining, it was difficult for him to attract anyone's attention, and he only quietly sat in his company's friends, enjoying their conversations, and not deciding to intervene in them.

• So kissing, even such tiny and children for him were something new and clearly pleasant that forced his heart to take strikes, forcing blood to faster the vessels, and throwing adrenaline to the blood.

• Therefore, I advise, let's say, it is prepared.

• It will get used to it soon, but do not need to wait for full addiction, it is enough to achieve a less rough reaction of his body to a children's kiss, and you can already get to more interesting and magical.

• But I think your first kiss went not in the most pleasant events or not in the most pleasant scenario.

• You often went home to Basil, at least because you liked their flowers, their petals and how they blossom.

• But of course, mostly you were there in order to have a pleasant time with your boyfriend, Basil.

• Memories, stories, reading, his stories about various plants and photos, you liked everything so much.

• When you come to the house, you were met by Polly, as usual.

• She was a cute and good woman, and also glad that you support Basil, making it clearly happier.

• Approaching the door, going to knock, warning about his arrival, you could hear some kind of bomping and a little shippers.

• Oh.

• Sometimes, although not even sometimes, and often the Basil had some break low.

• The anxiety covered his body, and the brain forced him to absorb all the alarming thoughts and memories, allowing anxiety only to be rooted in his psyche, he was wearing strongly than before.

• You decided not to knock, and they entered quietly, closing the door behind you, not wanting to frighten the Basil.

• He did not tell you that he was worried or anxious, apparently, completely unaniming to you, so you could not just run it around him and allow him to get all their problems and alarm again to himself.

• It was hurt to see you as he trembled, cold sweat drained on his forehead, tears drained through the cheeks, and his breath is stolen and breathes it through the mouth.

• He's a non-hit, something forgivent for me, vigied himself and repeated only one thing: "Do not go away from me. Do not leave me."

• You quietly came to it, slightly worshiping to try to see his face.

• What did he go out of you.

• More specifically, what you found it in this state.

• He believed that if you attach it in such a state, then consider it a pathetic, because the majority believed it is not?

• It was hysteria, nervous breakdown.

• His voice broke down, broke and sometimes moved to high tones.

• He grabbed you for the shoulders, repeating only that you do not leave it, did not leave it and what he is sorry for him.

• He did not want to stay alone again.

• He did not want to stay again withdrew with these horrific thoughts and fault, which day from the day he devourced him.

• You tried to calm it, but he did not even listen, so you have moved to radical measures.

• Yes, you invaded completely in his personal space, without demand, but another way out, most likely, you would not come up with.

• Your soft lips cover it slightly swollen lips, forcing it finally shut up.

• The taste of saltity from the tear was felt in your mouth, but it was not so salty to make you offset from such soft and warm lips.

• You seem to be merged into one whole, enjoying the proximity and attachment of each other.

• First you did not feel any movements from Basil.

• And only a few minutes that he seemed to be embarrassed, giving up your dominance.

• He opened his mouth, which allowed you to move further and make this kiss more sweet.

• Your language, your muscle went through the Basil mouth, a little exploring the new area and flew out in a beautiful and sweet dance with another mouse, with the language of the Basil.

• I assure you, you clearly could hear like that slightly Whining while a kiss.

• Well, it became clear the brightest event for both of you.

Aubrey

• Consider that there are at least a little, but you can rest.

• As for me, adult Aubrey is a roundline and more closed than her junior version.

• Although, it is understandable.

• In her childhood, she had friends, she was happy, spending time with friends, even with a chalet.

• But these her friends were betrayed, threw, left one then when he needed their support and love most.

• She remained one, starting to rot and bend, like a sweet fruit without the departure of the garden.

• Also, the problems in the family, especially with the mother, she was affected.

• That love that she had from the mother before, changed on the cold, drunk pigs, and maybe beat.

• Her betrayed all, at least, she believed so.

• Have they seen it like her badly? Did not they understand how she needs their help!?

• Apparently, no.

• Therefore, Aubrey is pretty closed and not trusting.

• She is like a watermelon, a hard outside, but soft, sweet and fragile inside.

• Therefore, you will be difficult with her, as I think.

• They look with Basil by the fact that both do not want to remain again alone, but unlike Basil Aubrey hides his real feelings, because of pride or fear.

• Although, after recognition, it will begin to show the paint it.

• This can be an unprecedented holding hand or for the waist, closing to himself, as if they wish to be with you next to always.

• Well, the first who knows about your relationships, it will be Berly, because Berly is closest to it from the rest of the friends.

• If you did not consist in the bullee group, then you will be treated with a small contempt first, but quite soon you will become part of their family.

• You can think that because of Aubrey is pretty closed, this does not mean that it is shy to show you attachment in society or, God forbid, shy you.

• Oh, there is no, on the contrary, it is proud and even sampling you.

• You, mostly, always together, if you do not count those moments when you sit in your homes or in different places, but even despite this, you often refresh with it, talking about what only can you.

• You loved to sit together, next to it, and you can only chat about what.

• Especially from the abandoned lake with a berth and an old statue.

• Sitting on the shore, on the soft grass, you enjoyed a calm water of the water, which created different lace patterns because of a small wind.

• The wind was widely disposed of the water moisturizing and the pleasant smell of the lake.

• You liked to watch nature, and you were often distracted.

• Sitting on a soft grass, you looked attentively at the calm gesture of water, watching her movement.

• Aubrey noticed that you did not listen to it and just looked at the water, and began to call you.

• However, you did not even tear.

• After a minute, you felt how someone's fingers gently touched your chin, gently turning your head.

• In the same moment, your lips were covered by foreign hips, slightly blank, but all the same sweet.

• Your eyebrows have expanded to a second of a second, and you realized that you have so stolen the first kiss, but after, just slightly covering your eyes, you just succeeded with the pleasure, catching the moment.

• Heart faster the knob, pumping more blood, until the blood of the adrenaline is on the vessels.

• You dade, like cold ice cream on the filling sun.

• And this sun was Aubrey.

• You are ready to fall into its embraces, casing to it as strong as possible, if you want to merge into one whole, in one soul and body.

• You even stopped breathing for a moment, wishing that this moment remains eternal.

• But nothing lasts forever, it's still something that ends or changes.

• And however it was not sorry for it, but you had to stump from the Sweet lips of Aubrey, all the timely enviable data of the event.

• This Aubrey is just a bit smootherse, but very cute and giggled.

• Now, each time seeing this place, you two satisfy the same moment, and sometimes I repeat.

Mari

• Here you again double, and the group of friends again went to find ... who? Ah, it's already not important.

• Have you ever traveled with a group of friends, but why? Honestly, it's not clear whether you were weak or just did not want to be solved.

• But you had to stay alone with Mari, chat with her, something to discuss with her, and just spend time.

• But most of all you liked her touch and attachment.

• Her gentle feminine striking your head, deferring your strands from time to time, enjoying their texture.

• Your head is resting on the lap of Mari while the one sitting on the plate for a picnic with a plate of fruit, enjoyed your society and hair.

• You just like the only cat's pleasure, a pleasant smile enjoyed the Larad Mari.

• Suddenly, Mari came an idea to his head, and she immediately wanted to hear it.

• "Hey, Y / N, you want to play in one game game? Immediately tell you, this game is on trust! You must close your eyes and open my mouth, I'll put you something in your mouth, and you must say and guess what it is!"

• You agreed on this, even if you slightly nervous, hoping that Mari does not drain you in the mouth of the dusty rabbit, wholesaler milk or that either.

• No, you knew that Mari's good and not so evil to wip your mouth outlook products, but even the closest and kind person can fall into your back knife.

• You covered your eyes and opened your mouth, waiting.

• The first was the Mari's cookies, you immediately guessed this!

• It was sweet and slightly foam.

• Then there was bitter chocolate, because of which you wanted to drink to get rid of the bitterness.

• On the third round you felt a soft and gentle on your lips.

• It was clearly not food, but something else, something more sweet than sweets and more tender than pastel shades of different colors.

• You were curious that this is, or more precisely who is this?

• However, sweetness and enjoyment of this only striked your curiosity, forcing you to slightly pull up, and opening my mouth, stretch out the language.

• Your language met with another language, flewing together, as if a node, and not wanting to branched, wanting to remain forever forever.

• Boiling blood was pushed to your cheeks, giving out your feelings about this situation.

• Your eyelids have slightly trembling from pleasure, it's so cute and innocently looked from the side.

• This all lasts five minutes.

• It seemed another minute and you just faint from the heart or the attempt temperature in the body.

• You felt your lips again became free and slowly revealed your eyes.

• All as if changed light, it became more warm colors, but the beautiful purple sky was covered even more beautifully.

• You have seen the colorful, but the deep and satisfied face of Mari, and you immediately guessed that this, or more precisely, who was it.

• But you were only glad that this happened, having preserving this memory, and when repeating this situation, covering the marces from satisfying the situation.

Kel

• Oh, honestly, you were generally difficult to build up and develop your relationship.

• First, Kel for a long time had to get used to the fact that you are not just his best friend, but already a partner for love, with whom, perhaps, he had to spend the rest of the life.

• Well, in addition, no matter how Kel does not seem simple and easily susceptible, he is a few days, if not weeks, he behaved like this most obsessed fanware with a meeting with his cumir.

• Yes, what to say here, your diet is spruce grown less interesting to romantic meetings, not meetings of friends, and kissing in the cheek almost became acceptable.

• Although you really liked it to thus or not to relieve a retest in a basketball in a chest.

• You often went to the Kel's competition, loudly and brightly supporting its command.

• The breaks were silent to it, slightly bolting and maintaining it.

• And here, the last round, and Kel swears the basketball in the ring, adding the last and decisive point of his team, winning.

• Descending from the rostrum, you ran to Kel, joyfully congratulating it.

• It was seen that he was glad and excited.

• Kel has always been an active and emotional boy, expressing his true emotions without shame and conscience.

• He was very happy, so much that I even slightly bounce on the socks, slightly putting his hands.

• His smile was stretched almost up to the ears, showing his teeth in all his pain.

• Noticing how you came, he, not thinking, grabbed you for the shoulders, having dragged on his chest and tightened you in a deep kiss.

• His rubber lips covered your tightening and pleasure.

• It would seem like such simple movements, and in your heart has already storm with hurricanes, which make your butterflies in the stomach like to live, and score with their wings, in an attempt to take off, thereby tickle your belly.

• Honestly, you did not even stop it, you did not even want to stop trying to stop it.

• Roy of pleasant feelings so tightened you to this beam of pleasure, which you already had everything, did he sweat everything, or did you look at our two of his team.

• You have already been.

• All you wanted is so that this moment is preserved forever.

• For you, two world was suspended, you were like something on the whole world.

•After a while, you deepened this kiss, already surprising Kel, and thrusting your tongue, which, like a snake, crawled into Kel’s mouth, intertwining with someone else’s tongue.

•The pressure of pleasure and pleasure overwhelmed both of you, forcing you to press closer to each other.

•Kel's arms slid down, wrapping around your waist, pressing down on you.

•It was as if you were eating each other.

•But nothing lasts forever, ever, and this is sometimes a great pity.

•You pulled away from each other, blood pulsating in your vessels, forcing you to catch your breath slightly so that your thermoregulation would work.

•Suddenly, you remembered that in fact you were not alone and turned to Kel’s team.

•Everyone had eyes like balls, and some even had their mouths open.

•It turns out that Kel has not yet had time to tell them that you are now not just friends, but already lovers, and this is the reaction.

•Well, now Kel is expected to be teased by his team, but this is not so important, because the most important thing is the feelings that you both felt then.

Hero

•Oh, winter, winter, such a magical and pleasant time of year.

•There are many holidays in winter: New Year, Valentine's Day, and in Russia Maslenitsa.

•But now it’s December 31st, and you and Hero are already sitting at a not-so-large table full of various delicious foods.

•These include salads, sweets, and even fruits.

•You spent almost the whole day preparing food and cleaning his apartment.

•Yes, you celebrated the New Year in Hero’s rented apartment.

•Why not? What's the point of celebrating New Year alone when you can celebrate it with your loved one?

•Having fun cooking and cleaning, you both, already a little tired, sat at the table, discussing something.

•Surprisingly, you two managed to eat while cooking, and now you two were absolutely full.

•Honestly, this is your first New Year's Eve together in this relationship, and you were clearly glad that you could spend it together, growing closer to each other.

•The clock struck twelve, your glasses were filled with champagne, and with the joyful cry of people on the street and the majestic striking of the clock, you each made your own wish to yourself as you drank your glass of champagne.

•The most interesting thing is that this is the first time in 19 years that Hero drinks, or even tries alcohol, so he gets drunk pretty quickly.

•And already drunker, he began to cling to you, like a koala clinging to trees.

•His face is slightly red from the alcohol, he hugs you tightly, resting his head on you, and in a slightly unintelligible voice he says how much he loves you.

•Lifting his head and pulling away from you, he gently caressed your cheeks, pulling your face towards his and kissing your lips passionately.

•The smell and taste of alcohol appeared in your mouth, making you wince slightly.

•But despite this, you were only on the contrary drawn to him, and moving closer to him, you only deepened the kiss, intertwining your tongues, as if tying the knot like at a marriage ceremony.

•His hands roamed over your face, straightening your hair and stroking your cheeks, while your hands roamed over his body, stroking his chest.

•But the kiss, unfortunately, did not last long; later Hero became ill due to alcohol, and he pulled away from you, leaning his back on the back of the furniture.

•Even if it was a short kiss, it was clearly very bright and sweet, making your brain remember every moment of this event.

[eggroll-sama]

Record of Ragnarok: Ideal Date Headcanon Pt.1

Poseidon

Poseidon rarely likes to go on dates. He thinks it is useless when you should already feel satisfied as his lover.

Do NOT beg him to go on a date or he’ll get mad and ignore you.

If you were able to convince him to go on a date, he’ll reserve the finest underwater restaurant for you and him. The restaurant is for gods ONLY, so humans have never stepped foot or even know the existence of such a place. The restaurant is known for the clear domed walls that allow you to immerse yourself in the underwater ocean and observe the fish life. You can just point at a certain fish and they’ll make the most extraordinary dish.

He’d sit on the most luxurious cushion seat facing the view of the beautiful deep blue waters. If he’s in a good mood, he’d beckon you over to sit on his lap and feed him his food. If he’s in a bad mood, just sit in your designated seat and eat, because if you start talking that’ll ruin his mood. 

Would he go on a date again? “No,” is what he’d tell you to your face. He still looks down on doing it as he finds it useless and too humane. However there’s a slim chance he’ll do it again if you were being obedient on the first date (he’s low-key already planning the second date).

Thor

If you are Thor’s lover, you’d have to always be the one to suggest a date because dates rarely cross his mind. He just doesn’t find a purpose in it like Poseidon, but isn’t against it entirely.

Thor’s ideal date will be in the castle of Asgard. He doesn’t like going out in public because there’s too much commotion and screeching. He’ll make sure to clear the schedule for the entire evening (He’d also make sure Loki isn’t around to ruin the evening with his lover).

Ask him to walk with you around the beautiful gardens of the castle. It makes him feel at real peace to be with his lover and surrounded by peace and quiet. As much as he enjoys the thrill of a strong opponent, Thor appreciates serenity and the beauty that nature provides.

If you are fine with it, share a beer with Thor. He’d offer one after spending the day with you, when you two are out at the balcony when the whole city is quiet, and it feels like the two of you are the only ones alive. Thor likes to drink; although he isn’t constantly seen with a jug, it is a guilty pleasure of his to taste the buttery and crisp drink during the night, to lick the frothy foam from his lips and feel his body grow warmer with each gulp. Thor sharing a beer with you means that he trusts you and considers you worthy of his attention. And so it would make his night if you share it with him, both of your bodies growing warmer, faces close, eyes glued to the other. More often then not, drinking together leads to something more intimate in the bed…

Loki

He’d probably be the one to suggest going on dates more than you. He just loves the idea of going on cheesy dates and teasing you about how cute you are.

Anywhere fun is where Loki will choose. The go-to place he likes to take his s/o is the amusement park.

He doesn’t mind human food; funnel cakes and kettle corn are his favorite to eat at the amusement park. He’ll share it with you in a teasing manner if you ask him. Prepare to be embarrassed if you’re in public though, because he’ll try and feed you with his mouth.

He’ll be the daredevil and choose the scariest ride straight off the bat, unlike normal people who choose the easy ones first. If you’re nervous, that’s double the cuteness points and he’ll assure you everything is going to be fine and dandy. He’d also go on the couple’s rides and then get really smoochy and touchy during the ride.

At the end of the date, he’ll be a little more genuine and express how he enjoyed the day with you, pecking your cheek.

Lu Bu

Dating? Him? No. He likes you, but isn’t going to prioritize you over training. I’m sorry, but you’re dating the wrong person if you expect him to sacrifice a day for you. You might be able to eat with him during lunch or supper, but privacy is not assured.

…is what he would like to say or want others to believe. The thing is, Lubu is borderline aromantic, he will indulge in sex with a prostitute if he’s pent up and frustrated. However, if you are very special to him, he would try and make time for you. It wouldn’t be a spectacular date, he’s a war general and has matters to take care of, but something that is easy to plan.

He would take you horseback riding around the forests. It is the easiest and is also very calming to feel the breeze on both of your guys skin.

You know that you are special when Lubu lets you ride with him on Red Hare. If he didn’t really care for you, he’d tell you to “get your own horse,” but not with you. Never with you. You’d be sitting in front of him and he’d take the reins, galloping around the forest. You can feel his muscles against your back, his warmth radiating from his skin, and smell his musk. He’d be oblivious to how it makes you feel. He’ll tease you by going fast on the Red Hare. Overall, a very relaxing date.

Adam

Adam’s idea of an ideal date is a picnic on a nice, sunny day.

He likes getting spoiled while on the date, so his head will be on your lap as you feed him some grapes. Make sure to gives him kisses on the cheek and on the forehead cuz he loves those. Adam loves being little spoon. Nuzzle his head and neck. He’s like a big, affectionate puppy.

After that, you can walk around the flowery meadows with Adam. You’d hold hands, talk about the most random things and you both love every second of it. If you ask, you can both make flower crowns for each other. Adam is very good at making flower clowns. By the time you finish making his crown, he’d already have made a flower crown, a flower necklace, and two rings for you and him.

And if the two of you come across a river, you might play there for awhile. Adam will teasingly splash some water on you as you half-heartedly tells him to stop. He’ll catch fish for dinner. He’d make a little camp at the forest’s clearing to fry the fish. After your stomachs are full, you’d cuddle together in silence, watching the fire spark and crack.

Adam has a smile the entire day. He loves spending time with his beloved, and wouldn’t mind doing it again.

Sasaki

Sasaki isn’t so experienced with planning dates, but if it’s for you he would try his best to appease you. Picnic? Done. Restaurant? He’ll do odd jobs to get the money. Just chilling out? He’ll make you a comfortable hay mattress and sing you a little tune.

But if it were all up to him, he would like to go hiking with you or some outdoor activity. He thinks outdoor activities are good bonding experiences. He’s super athletic and so his pace will naturally be faster than yours. He’s a gentleman and will cater to your pace.

Once at the very top of the mountain, he’ll make a little shelter for the both of you and a fire pit. You guys will be overlooking the amazing view and just enjoying each other’s presence.

However, Sasaki is unlucky and the date has a 99% likelihood of going to shit or something going wrong. For example, a bear attacks you during the nighttime. A bear is no match for Sasaki Kojiro, but he’d feel bad if you were frightened. He’ll cuddle you to sleep and promise you that he’d protect you. He’ll wrap his yukata around your form and will let you sleep in his arms.

[turtletaubwrites]

I Saw You First (Pt. 2) ~ Part 7.5

Thank you @zoroswifesblog for this request!! Here's Part 1. I recommend that if you're reading through the series (linked below) to read this after part 7. This is Zoro's pov of the next day.

Pairings: Sanji x Fem!Reader, Zoro x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1309

We've All Got Needs Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: It's the morning after your first night with the cook, and Zoro is determined to make you forget about him. Zoro grapples with his rage, and tries to understand why he's so worked up over your casual arrangement.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Fem!Reader, 18+ Only, MDNI, Reader-Insert, No Smut here except for brief memory descriptions, Casual Sex, Penis in Vagina Sex, Angst, Anger, Shame, Mild Violence Mentioned, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Crewmates with Benefits, Relationship Discussions

A/N: Feelings are tough, Zoro's having a bad day, y'all

I’m gonna show you. 

Zoro had barely noticed he was awake before the rampage of thoughts from last night piled on his brain. The sounds he’d heard, your little whines while you let that idiot cook fuck you in the kitchen. 

Trying to scrape the anger off of his skin in the shower, he had to hop around, shaking himself to release the images flooding his mind now.

Right there. She hung onto that safety bar when I fucked her against the wall. She was so fucking good, so tight and wet. She took it so well, even though I didn’t go easy on her.  

“Fuck.”

He rushed out of there, wanting to save his energy for everything he planned on doing to you later.

I’m gonna fuck the memory of him out of you. 

Zoro paced in his small room before heading to the galley. He kept his gaze away from the cook, and waited for you by the door. 

He sat next to you at the booth, blocking the waiter from leaning in close to you like he had the day before.

You were blinking slowly, your under eyes a bit dark. He tried to convince himself it was because being with Sanji had bored you so much. He shoved away the thoughts of how late it was before you left last night, the sounds of you both moaning as you came. 

Zoro’s grip on your thigh started pressing, and he let up. 

But he hung on a bit tighter when Sanji leaned over him to give you a fancy fucking coffee, with a pretentious little flower painted on the foam.

The pathetic perv has to bribe her. 

“I told you Usopp, Y/N’s sick. Chopper, can fevers make you go deaf?”

“Actually yes, a high fever can cause cochlear damage-”

“She’s not sick, she’s just been having trouble sleeping. Right, Y/N?”

He hadn’t registered what Luffy had asked until Robin’s calm, pointed words broke through. She looked at you, but her gaze slid to Zoro as he narrowed his eyes at her. 

Who fucking cares if she knows. 

You rushed out of the kitchen, and he followed you out on deck before he caught another glimpse of him. 

You let out a cute little yawn, and Zoro watched the line of your body as you stretched. 

Fuck, I want you right here, right now. 

His body was nearly buzzing as he came up behind you, breathing across your neck. 

“You’re coming to my room tonight.”

He watched your sweet mouth as you turned with another yawn, leaning toward him as you replied. 

“I can’t tonight, Zoro. I need to get some rest.”

The sound of your moans last night clanged through his ears again, and he felt that rage bubbling up. You took a step back from him, and he couldn’t fucking stop himself, the words leaving his mouth like poison. 

“What, now that cook treats you like a little princess, and you don’t want to fuck me?”

The sound of a lighter sparked behind him.

“I believe the lady told you she wanted a break, Marimo.”

Zoro spun, his fingers on a sword, itching to draw it.

I’m gonna kill this fucker, always butting in on what’s mine. 

“Fucking stop it, both of you. I’m not a piece of meat to fight over.”

Your voice was shaky, but angry, and Zoro turned to watch you take your step back toward him. 

“And Zoro, I enjoy our time together, but there’s a line. You agreed to this, so speak up if you can’t handle it.”

He had to clench his teeth to keep more poisonous words in, anger boiling hotter the longer Sanji stood beside him.

He missed something you said as he imagined everything his swords could do to the cook, and he had to bite his tongue to bring him back to the moment. 

“Okay, rule number one; no fighting over me. The whole point of this arrangement is to keep things casual, and I won’t put myself in the middle of your feud.”

Zoro could barely hold himself back from breaking that rule as you uttered it. 

“Rule number two; no one gets their feelings hurt when I want to take a break. I’m fucking tired, and I’m not a doll you can use whenever you want.”

Rage was replaced by hot shame, pouring into Zoro’s stomach.

What the fuck is from with me?

“Fuck, Needy, I didn’t mea-”

He almost flinched as you held your hand out to stop him. 

Fuck, I’m fucking this up. I’m going crazy, why can’t I handle my fucking shit?

“Rule number three; we need to come up with some sort of system to keep things fair. I don’t want to have to choose between you guys, and get caught in your pissing contest.”

The shame stayed in him, but rage bubbled back.

She still wants to let that perv fuck her.

Zoro fucking tried to keep his mouth shut, but he couldn’t stop himself from blurting his question out, too soon. 

“So, what’s the system?”

“Let her catch her breath, moss head.”

“You don’t know what she needs, waiter.”

“Guys, seriously? Stop.”

Zoro had leaned toward Sanji’s smug face just aching to slam his fists into it, but your voice cut through. He turned to you, fighting his need to teach that shit head a lesson, and keep calm for you. 

Don’t fucking ruin this. 

“Let’s alternate. One day with Zoro, then the next day with Sanji. And I get to take breaks without you destroying the ship.”

Zoro swallowed the knot of rage that was threatening to bubble up at the thought of continuing to share you with Sanji. He fought to breathe evenly, and missed something else you’d said.

“... Okay then, good! Do we all agree to the terms?”

“Of course dear-“

“Sure-“

“Great! I’m going to get some work done.” 

He turned to watch you walk away, not wanting to look at the piece of shit blond before he broke rule number one. 

“Marimo, you need to-”

“Don’t fucking talk to me, cook.”

Zoro fumed all the way to his quarters, the restraint it took not to break the walls was painful. He started counting pushups and situps again, but all he could think of was your tired, angry face. 

‘I’m not a doll you can use whenever you want.’

Slamming his fists against his thighs, Zoro slumped to the floor, putting his head in his hands. 

What the fuck is wrong with me? We’re just fucking, why am I going off the deep end like this? I need to get my shit together. 

Shame curdled in his stomach as Zoro’s mind raced over everything you had said to each other since you’d started this. Clenching his eyes shut again at the thought of you stepping back from him. 

Gods, I’m a piece of shit. Of course she’d rather be with that annoying waiter over me. I fucking scared her. 

Zoro stewed in his anger and disgust for hours, trying to figure out how to fix his fuck up. The thought of you not wanting to see him again made his gut clench, especially coupled with the fear that he’d have to watch you with him everyday. 

And that step back you took when he spoke to you like that. It haunted him, hovering in his mind like a cloud of hornets. 

I’ve gotta make this right. 

He’s never been good at this, but Zoro walked himself through a hundred ways to apologize to you. He practiced, needing you to never look at him that way again. To never be afraid of him. 

I need her to feel safe with me. 

I need her to forgive me. 

He finally left his quarters, shame still aching through him as he searched for you. 

Thank You for Reading! 💜

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Tag List: @astheni-a | @ferns-fics | @heilee | @iamn1ya | @ghostfacefricker6969 | @onlybassoon01 | @apothicgloom | @slyhersophia | @cyberaestheticals

*Hi tagged friends! I wasn't sure if you'd like to be tagged in the extra scenes without the reader, so please let me know if you'd like me to leave your name out of these going forward.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed Zoro's version of the next day! He sure didn't 😅 I am loving taking requests for this series, let me know if you have another other scenes you'd like me to explore!

Buy me a coffee ☕🙏🏼

[the-amazing-boop]

My track by track first impressions for Unreal Unearth (with some contextualized thoughts of the singles)

De Selby Part 1 - straight into the lullabies playlist. Just perfect.

De Selby Part 2 - perfect fade in from Part 1. I couldn't have dreamt up a better, more subtle transition. Still my current creature comfort.

First Time - oh, ffs, it's bluesy and sad. Lethal combination. This might be another one on repeat later. Ow. Ouch, ow. THE FINAL TIME YOU CALLED ME "BABY". Wtf. I see why some of y'all were cussing him out on here.

Francesca - my beloved. Brutal to have this follow First Time, though. Mentally two-stepping through the tears. The bellowing at the outro still has the power to ascend me despite my replaying.

I,Carrion - another certified heartbreaker for the lullabies playlist. She's Greek, she's cosmic, she's pure love.

Eat Your Young - I am once again solidified in my conviction to refuse having children in this fucked up world. Y'all be safe.

Damage Gets Done (feat. Brandi Carlile) - Okay guitar lick! Oh the voices belting together in harmony is hitting me. I'm getting really 2010s feelings I haven't felt in forever. I feel the sudden urge to forgive myself. He's back at it again with the choral work, CAN I LIVE??

Who We Are - and just like that, I'm back on my emo shit. He really went for emotional whiplash in terms of song ordering, huh? Not me literally listening to this while engulfed in a dark room as well. Another one I'll have to repeat, I fear.

Son of Nyx - oh fuck. Oh no. Not the piano dragging along. And no words. THE CUTOFF. THE STRINGS. THE VOCALIZATIONS. It's definitely a warning. Shit's about to start hurting for real. It's so haunting and gorgeous.

All Things End - Hello, old friend, my first favorite. I'm terrified of what follows you. It was bad enough watching the man "die" on the table (my hands are in the air to receive the gospel).

To Someone From A Warm Climate (Uiscefhuarithe) - fucking hell. Just devastating. Idk how much more I can take.

Butchered Tongue - this hits like crazy if you have any connection to a diaspora that was nearly erased or just have ancestry DEEPLY rooted oppression and the like. Ffs, I'm gonna need stitches for a cut that deep.

Anything But - and then this happy shit. Back at it again with the whiplash, the bastard. I love it though! This is going on the light and bright playlist. I'm a sucker for sad lyrics dressed in bright colors. And the vocals?? Come on, now.

Abstract (Psychopomp) - I was right. Everything following Son of Nyx just hurts differently. Dare I say worse than the first half of the album. I really shouldn't get into how I relate OFTEN to the poor roadkill creatures in my area.

Unknown/Nth - a nice and plentiful helping of stake through the heart, as usual. The briiidge. I drown in it every time.

First Light - I'm gonna say it's an instant classic. The imagery. The love on love on love. The catharsis. The drumsss. Oh! The acoustic fade out.

Overall, he didn't bother not once to lift his heel on this album. He's outdone himself. No skips. I am foaming at the mouth, waiting for my vinyl to come in. All get 10s across the board from me. 16 works of art. I really wish I could lock myself in a room for three days to really digest this album.

[rosepinksky]

Pay For My Time (pt. 6)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female reader

In which Ghost's neighbour drags him in for dinner, and then ruins his life.

Warnings: alcohol use, implied dub-con due to alcohol use but it's stopped in its tracks!, ghost being a possessive mess and i am FOAMING AT THE MOUTH FOR IT

word count: 2.5k

ao3 link

part 1 (smutty!)

masterlist

Ghost had sat there, perched on the stairs outside her floor with his leg jerking in anticipation, for upwards of an hour. He rested his chin on his knuckles, breath misting in the November chill of the stair close. Another glance at his phone- 1:40am- and he rose, storming down into the street. He slipped past the raucous crowds milling outside the pub across the road, his hands clenching in his jacket pockets to keep warm.

The club Lucy danced in was on a side of the city far shittier than the one they lived in, and that was saying something. He could feel the passersby’s eyeing him up as he walked, sizing him up. None approached.

It was sort of understandable, the way this demographic of patrons flocked to this street in particular. The kind of place where everybody implicitly understood to not discuss their activities there in the office the next day. A fucking rural Westworld, tucked away in a northern English city. A casino with its bright neon signs spilling a rainbow onto the chipped pavement, a pub advertising £3 pints- Christ, he’s been in London too much- and the Black fucking Lace, cartoonish vinyl stickers of women on poles plastered to the frosted windows.

He can hear her before he sees her; a cackle of drunken laughter around the back of the building. He heads toward the sound, and there she is; scantily-clad form draped in a man’s suit jacket that hangs on her like an oversized coat, stumbling a little on her ridiculous heels. She’s leant against the railing of the fire exit stairs, eyes glittering and hazy as she grins lazily up at the man spouting shite at her. He laughs, wrapping his arm around her waist to draw her closer, and she lets him, responding with her own bright little giggles.

The bottle of beer in his hand sloshes in his grip, droplets splashing onto her exposed skin and she takes it, taking a long drink as she holds the man’s gaze.

Ghost’s fists clench even tighter in his pockets as he watches the stranger’s eyes light up at her contact, his pig hands sliding up over her lower back. Creepy fucker, touching up the woman practically swaying on her feet in front of him.

He clears his throat as he approaches the pair, Lucy’s head turning to face him. Her smile wavers but doesn’t drop, her eyes taking him in from head to toe. He’s sure he looks the picture of wrath, all squared shoulders and hulking black mass, but tries to keep his expression composed.

“You alright, Vi?” He does his best to keep his tone soft as he keeps his eyes on her, yet to acknowledge the greasy little man with his hands on her.

She nods, taking another swig of the beer. “Never better, John. Did you need something?”

He bristles. “Looks like you might need someone to walk you home. Long night, huh?”

She smiles, and he swears it’s cruel, and she turns her attention back to the man attached to her. “Yeah. Danny here’s got it covered, don’t worry.”

He finally lifts his eyes from her to the man. Danny.

“Danny here looks like he has a bit more on his mind than just making sure you get home safe. Isn’t that right, mate?”

The man rolls his shoulders back, appearing to calculate the risk Ghost poses right now. More than you know, mate.

“You her boyfriend or something, man? Hey, I don’t want trouble. She seemed pretty fucking available to me.” Oh, so he’s a big man now?

“Not her boyfriend. Just don’t appreciate little shits like you taking advantage of vulnerable women.”

Lucy scoffs, stepping between Ghost and the man. “I’m not fucking vulnerable, I’m a grown woman. Back off, Ghost.”

Danny laughs sharply, pulling her back against his chest by the waist. “Ghost? What sorta fucking name is that?”

Ghost’s glare hardens. “Callsign. Counter-terrorism, SAS.”

There’s a moment of tense silence, and Lucy’s eyes are locked onto his. He swears he can see her pupils dilate in the pink glow of the buzzing neon lights.

She shoves the beer back into the creep’s hands without so much as a glance back at him, the liquid frothing and spilling onto his sleeve. “I’m tired. Let’s get a taxi, Smith.” She brushes past the both of them, ignoring the disgruntled calls of protest from the sleazebag behind them. Ghost nods, shooting the bloke a smug grin hidden beneath his balaclava.

He follows after her, resisting the bizarre urge to wrap a protective arm around her waist.

More than protective, actually.

Possessive.

He ruminates on the way he finds her so much easier to digest when she’s sitting quietly in the back of the taxi next to him, her features lit up every so often by the passing lights of the city. He’d always gone for quiet girls in the past, even if he’d never admit out loud that was something he sought out.

She’s not quiet. God, she’s a bona fide wreck, if anything. Her entire being reeks of substance abuse, of nymphomania and likely some deep-rooted parental issues to boot. She is a walking red flag, the kind of person who’d lead you astray and chip away at your morals with her siren-like smile.

He knows this; he’s no stranger to dangerous vices, makes no claim to innocence. Still, while he may not be the top subscriber of the on-base psychology facilities, he’s sat through enough mandated sessions to recognise self-destruction when he sees it.

She doesn’t turn to face him when she speaks. Her voice is lowered, cognizant of the driver separated from them only by a thin plastic screen.

“I know why you came to get me tonight.”

He hums in response, fingers adjusting their grip on his elbows.

“…I’m not going to play the sweetheart just because you wanted to play the hero.”

A pause. He takes a moment to stare at the blur of streets and lampposts outside the window before answering.

“You told me the first night we met that you’re selfish- and I don’t take you for a liar.”

She does turn to face him then, eyes swimming with an emotion he can’t quite place yet. Gratitude. Pride, maybe.

There’s another pause, and she clears her throat. “So- SAS, huh? Anti-terrorism.”

Ghost chuckles then, his expression softening. “You seem surprised.”

She shrugs, smiling softly. “I don’t know. Sort of had you pegged as a preening Coast Guard rookie.”

He laughs again, a little heartier this time. “The Coast Guard do good work.”

Her smile widens. “I know. My brother used to volunteer, when he was in high school.”

His posture stiffens in surprise. “You got a brother?”

Lucy doesn’t move. It’s like she’s gone somewhere; he wonders where. “…Yeah. Two, actually. And a sister.”

Ghost- well, on further introspection, this is Simon talking- raises an eyebrow. She hiccups, and he has to fight to hold back a smile.

“I had a brother.”

She’s quiet for a moment, long nails picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of the suit jacket. The image of Danny the Prick shivering as he heads back inside to settle his bill without it amuses Ghost to no end.

“Had?” She asks, voice gentler than he’d heard from her before.

No, actually, that wasn’t true. Her voice was soft that first night they’d spoken, her hands running along his thighs as she knelt between his legs. He hadn’t seen her like that since; all docile and tone filled with a sincerity that had him believing she actually cared about what he had to say.

He nods, and debates elaborating. She probably wouldn’t even remember this in the morning- God, I wonder how much of her life she’s lost to drunken blackouts. Does she still feel 19 because she can only remember 19 out of however many years she’s lived?

She doesn’t press for more anyway, hazy eyes starting to droop. He thinks, just for a second, that she’ll lay her head against his shoulder, but she shifts her weight to lean her forehead against the condensation-coated window with a stifled yawn.

“…Simon.”

Her eyes flutter back open, and he feels the twist of regret in his stomach as he takes in the patch of smeared foundation of her forehead now.

“Huh?” She frowns at him, the drink and the sleep muffling her hearing.

With his voice still barely above a whisper, he repeats himself. “Simon.” He clears his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. “My name.”

It takes her a second, but a smile spreads across her smudged lips. “Simon.” She chirps back, seemingly pleased with the way his name sounds on her tongue. She chuckles to herself, pressing her knees against his. He doesn’t press back, but does keep his legs in place, feeling the chilled skin of her knees through his trousers. He holds his breath.

He had to practically herd her up the stairs when they pull up to the building, his hands hovering over her waist in fear of her tripping and tumbling down the long flights of stairs. She looks up at him as they stop outside of her door, her fingers curling around the collar of his jacket.

“Are you gonna come in?”

“No, Lucy. Not tonight.” His response is quick, anticipating her question. He untangles his fingers from him, bringing them back down to her sides.

She shakes her head, eyes flickering over his broad chest. “Not to fuck. Just…stay.”

There’s a long pause, and she keeps her gaze down. He furrows his brows, keeping his gentle grasp around her wrists.

“To just…sleep?”

Another fleeting moment of silence, and she nods. He grunts in response, shrugging his shoulders. A flicker of a smile creeps across his lips at the sight of her own, and he’s once again grateful for the privacy mask he’d grabbed before leaving his flat earlier.

She unlocks her door, tripping over her entrance rug as she fiddles with the clasps on her shoes, tossing them in the vague direction of the hallway cupboard. He clicks his teeth at the sight of her numerous lamps and lighting fixtures still on despite her being out for the past few hours.

“Fucking fire hazard, Luce.” He chastises, and she snorts out a drunken laugh.

“Better than cracking my head open trying to fumble for the light switch in the dark.”

He hums at that, an unconvinced allowance at her logic. He follows her through to the bedroom, smirking at the haphazard piles of clothes she’d pulled out of her wardrobe earlier she’d neglected to pick up.

“You were gonna bring that Danny bloke home with your place a tip like this?”

Lucy rolls her eyes at him, shoving the crumpled heaps of lace and satin into a drawer. “Didn’t particularly care about his opinion of my homemaking capabilities.”

She strips off the flimsy material of her dress, tossing it into a hamper. He eyes the intricate straps of her lingerie, clasps tucked under layers of overlapping silk. She brushes her hair over one shoulder, and by God is he tempted to press a kiss to the bare skin exposed.

“Help me out of this?” Her tone is light, innocent, but that woman knows exactly what she’s doing. Ghost complies with a grunt, thick fingers brushing against her back as he undoes the knots, the bows and the little buckles holding the garment in place. He lets it drop to the floor unceremoniously, and revels in the way her breath hitches as he kneels to the floor behind her and hooks his fingers over the hem of her underwear.

He keeps his eyes on the side of her face turned towards him over her shoulder as he lifts the bottom of his mask and presses his lips to the back of her thigh, smiling against her skin as the touch makes her jolt forward on her unsteady legs.

He curls one hand against her knee to still her, keep her in place as he trails his lips upward, breathing in the heady scent of her. It’s a mixture of smells that has him nosing against her, rain and sweat, stale beer and sweet perfume and her. Lucy, not Violet.

He tugs her underwear down, over the curve of her hips and past the flesh of her thighs, letting the scarlet piece of lace fall to the floor next to her bra. He keeps his gaze down as he lets his finger travel up back towards her core, pinky finger extending out to swipe across the swell of her ass.

He stands, pulling her hair back over her shoulder to fall down across her back. “Let’s get you into my shirt again and into bed, princess.” He whispers close to her ear, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning at the way she shivers.

“Uh-huh.” She nods, turning to face him again. Her hands drop to his belt buckle, glancing up at him for permission. He nods, watching her closely as she gathers the coordination to pull the leather off of him, undoing his trousers too and dropping to her knees just like he had done to pull the hem down to his knees. She stares up at him for a second, pupils blown, before turning her attention towards his boots. She mumbles a soft curse as she struggles with the tightly-knotted laces, acrylic nails too long to let her undo them with any sort of ease.

Ghost chuckles, but doesn’t move to help her. He watches from above as she bends forward to tug and pull at his shoes, doing nothing more than lifting his foot slightly to let her take the shoe off. He throws his jacket over her door, pulling his shirt off over his head and offering it to her.

She leans back on her heels, donning the soft cotton tee. “And the mask?” She asks hopefully.

“Not tonight, Luce.” His words echo the ones he’d spoken outside of her door as he cups her jaw, his hands large enough to take her entire cheek into his palm. “Bedtime.”

She sighs, pouting just slightly, but acquiesces and crawls underneath the floral-patterned sheets. He follows, grabbing at her waist and pulling her onto his chest.

She whines. “The light, Si.”

He raises an eyebrow, lifting his head off of the pillow to look down at her. “Si?” He asks incredulously. She just waves off the question, arousal quickly dissipated by her body’s need to pass out into a drunken sleep.

He chuckles, drawing her in tighter. He tucks his mask back down over his jaw, but not before pressing a chaste kiss into her hair, drawing in one last greedy breath of her scent without the fabric in the way.

Rain. Sweat. Booze. Something pretending to be cherry. Cinnamon- real cinnamon.

(tag list! <3 @simpxinnie)

[okay-j-hannah]

A Merchant Sailor

Pirates of the Caribbean : Fic

Will Turner x Reader

Word Count: 3061

Warnings: Swarthy pirates fighting each other... Will being lied to... Will also being a sweetheart 

Request: “This is me absolutely begging and foaming at the mouth for you to write a Will Turner x reader. I’m fine with fluff or smut lmao. I have a couple ideas if you also want to write multiple (or blend them into 1), you totally don’t have to though. Being Jacks sister but also constantly making berth at Port Royale when you were younger, results in a close friendship between you and a certain Mr. Will Turner. The killer is, you always told Will your brother was a merchant and that you would accompany him on his trips. In reality, you were always off doing pirate things with Jack. Consequently, the day Jack broke into Mr. Brown’s smithery, you later arrived with Will. This resulted in a 2 on 1 fight (or maybe not) with a lot of confused looks being shared between Jack and yourself. Plus Will defending your honor” @gingerdissapointment

A/N: Pretending to be a merchant, you befriend Will Turner as you keep your pirating a secret, until your brother forces you to reveal the truth

Her sword clashed terribly with the swarthy pirates of the East Atlantic, fighting over hidden treasure beneath the sandy shores of a neutral island. She kicked up the dry sand, silencing the battle cry of the enemy.

He spit and scratched at his eyes as (Y/N) jabbed the sword into his stomach, shoving him aside. Whipping around the beach, Jack pranced away from a group of opposing pirates. She rolled her eyes at his wailing.

“For the love…” she ran after her brother, realizing that with the crew winning the battle, the other pirates were running for Jack. In his hands lay the key to the gold.

She waved off Cotton’s parrot and threw a dagger at Marty, the blade sticking into the sand, to give him a chance to cut the ropes around his wrists. Ahead was Jack and a quartet of pirates splashing along the shore.

The erratic steps of their captain sent seawater cascading onto his pursuers. The noise was enough cover for (Y/N) to pull another dagger from her many pockets and throw it at the furthest pirate. It sunk into the back of the assailants neck, sending him splashing into the sandy water.

The remaining three didn’t notice the bigger splash as they continued their cries of pursuit. (Y/N) was gaining on them, searching for another object to throw at them, silently thanking her brother for his distracting, wild methods of escape.

She spotted a mound of rock creeping out of the ocean and as they neared it, she grasped a pockmarked rock from the thick, muddy sand. Grunting from the momentum, she swung her arm wide and launched the weathered stone at the next pirate. She successfully cracked the top of his skull, forcing him to fall froward into the sea and salt.

The thunk of his unconscious body alerted his crewmate, a bare chested man with sunburnt skin. He seemed momentarily confused to see a much younger girl running at him.

It was enough of a distraction that he didn’t react to the elbow she rammed into him. With the speed of her steps it was the right amount of force to throw him from his feet. She slashed her sword across his legs as she tumbled forward, hopefully keeping him incapacitated and unable to follow further.

Adrenaline coursed past the burning of her muscles as she screamed at her brother, “I swear to God you will be carrying me back to the ship after I save your pitchy drunken arse!”

She reached the last assailant, tackling him into the salty shore. Her cry of accusation spoke through Jack’s panic, making him peek behind his shoulder and then stop altogether, completely perplexed as to why all four pirates chasing him just moments before were all in the seawater.

But a second longer he realized it was his little sister rolling around with the final pirate, splashing wet sand and salty water all around them.

“Oh,” Jack gasped, winded from his erratic run, “The cursed stowaway decides to be helpful.”

“Bastard,” she growled, finally pummeling the hilt of her sword against the pirates temple. “I was never a stowaway.”

Jack made a disgusted face as the pirate’s flailing limbs stilled against the shore. “You disturb me.”

“Likewise,” she breathed heavy, rising to her feet completely soaked and flecked with sand. “Do you run like that on purpose?”

“I have no idea what you mean.” He pushed past her, extracting the old rusty key needed for the hidden treasure of the island.

She wobbled on her shaky legs, “You look like you’re running on hot coals, prancing on your tiptoes like that.”

They followed their footsteps quickly being washed away by the frothy waves. They passed over the rocky pockmarked mound and after pausing in her bickering with her brother, found something half submerged in the water.

Saltwater seeping into her boots, she crouched and extracted a massive opalescent seashell. It glimmered in a rainbow of colors with the sunlight warming the face of it. It was peach and coral and lavender and seafoam and crystal blue.

It made her chapped lips smile at finding another relic of the ocean for her best friend.

During the many adventures of Jack Sparrow and his stubborn little sister, they managed a few trips to the provenance of Port Royal. There (Y/N) had befriended a young blacksmith apprentice.

At the age of thirteen she was mastering the art of pickpocketing and stealing small objects from markets and stores. On her way to swipe a few daggers from the outside barrel, Will Turner had come out with grease stained hands and a soot covered face.

She quickly dropped the blades back in the barrel.

Will looked her up and down, a young lad of her similar age. “Can I help you?” He eyed the hand she hid behind her back.

“Just… looking for a gift,” she cleared her throat, “For my brother.”

“You want to give him a sword?” Will rubbed his dirty hands along his apprentice apron, “Is he a part of the Navy?”

She blinked a few times, “He’s a merchant. We sail to different ports to sell our goods.”

The answer seemed to put him more at ease. He believed her. “I could see where a sword might be helpful. There are less friendly types along distant shores – pirates and the like.”

She nodded slowly.

There was a pause before he continued, “I’m William Turner.” He seemed bashful to extend his grimy hand.

She gave a shy smile, weeks at sea with a motely crew and her pirate brother made her yearn for friends and company. She slowly accepted his hand, “I’m (Y/N).”

“And your surname?”

“Just (Y/N),” she smiled.

He smiled back, “It’s not proper to call a lady by her first name.”

She almost gawked – it was the most manners she’d seen in years, “I have no other name.”

“Your family name?” he asked, a little line appearing between his brows. “What of your brother?”

“We were orphaned at a young age,” she shrugged, “There was no record of our full titles.”

Will nodded solemnly, “I’m sorry.”

She looked towards the ground, “I’ll tell my brother of your smithery. Perhaps we’ll visit again.”

A desire to give her more of a reason to see him again, Will extracted a freshly polished sword from the wall. “Here, use this for your gift.”

“But I haven’t any money,” she said quietly.

“Then I’m gifting it to you,” he grinned, “I’m learning to make swords, I’ll just make another to replace this one.”

She laughed, “Thank you, Mr. Turner. I should do well to return the favor in the future.”

He passed over the hilt, “I look forward to our next meeting, Miss…” He seemed to struggle for a moment, “Miss. (Y/N).”

Five years had passed since that initial meeting and at reaching adolescence, (Y/N) was excitedly walking the streets of Port Royal to find the smithery. Over the years she had developed the habit of collecting trinkets and objects of her travels to show Will.

He still believed her to be a merchant, learning the trade from her honorable elder brother. And he found himself looking hopefully towards the white sails of the docks more than once to see her briny steps.

He longed for her visits, growing accustomed to her witty banter, wild stories, and lovely smile. And in the meantime, he practiced the art of black smithery and fashioned her intricate and deadly weapons, hoping to be of help as she sold them at the next port.

In reality (Y/N) was using these gifted weapons in her adventures pillaging islands and seeking treasure with her pirate crew.

To make herself feel somewhat better about all the lying, she sought to gift bits of all the gold and treasure she found to Will. He always got so excited to see things from beyond the shores of Port Royal.

“Mr. Turner,” she said orderly, “The coals have gone cold. What are you doing dallying about?”

Will turned from his workshop table, smile already on his clean shaven face. The summer had been kind to him, growing a couple inches and broadening his shoulders since the last time they met.

“Miss. (Y/N),” he said quietly, as if relieved she had come back at all. It was easy to imagine horrors befalling her while at sea, “You can’t imagine how good it is to see you.”

They hugged each other, (Y/N) laughing and Will grinning. He apologized for getting soot on her cheek, attempting to rub it away, “I’m so sorry.”

“Not at all,” she waved his fingers away, not wishing to have him feel how flushed the action made her.

He seemed in a similar state as a pink color flooded high on his cheekbones. “You’ve brought me more souvenirs?” he said as he spotted the bundle under her arm.

“Yes,” she said eagerly, “You’ll never believe what I found.” She went to the workshop table and laid out a roll of leathery animal skin, a few jagged shark teeth, and the opalescent seashell she found on her last adventure.

“Did you trade for some shark?” he laughed, touching the dried, scaly shark skin.

(Y/N) smiled, remembering the time she killed the reef shark while circling the coral shoreline of a tiny island. She was alone in a paddleboat and saw the opportunity to stick her sword through the predators skull.

“Yes, I’d say it was a rather lucky trade. Can’t you use this skin to make sword handles?”

He nodded, “That I can.” He looked at her from the corner of his eye, shy in how much he wanted to look. He never knew how long it would be between visits and while she was there he wanted to soak up every second.

“How long are you here?” he asked, hopefully.

(Y/N) bit the inside of her cheek, “Three days.”

Will sighed, nodding to himself, “Well then, we’ll just have to make the most of the next three days.” He untied his apron and made sure the furnace was cut off from heating more fuel.

“What is there to do that we haven’t already done?” she laughed, remembering days of captaining sailboats, sword fighting in the square, climbing palm trees, and catching crabs.

Will seemed undeterred by the question, “There’s plenty to do. We haven’t swum in the pools by the cove. We haven’t gone for tea in town. We haven’t ever attended the Governor’s Ball before.”

“The Governor’s Ball,” she scoffed, “Please, Will – a merchant has no place at a ball.” A pirate has no place near the highest powers of the British garrison.

“Don’t worry, I know people in town. We can find you a dress and I can teach you anything you’re worried about.” He returned to her side and took her hands, “Let me take you dancing.”

She looked at him in wonder, “You’d take me dress shopping?”

He smiled and gave a quiet nod, “I figured we’re not kids anymore, (Y/N). We could… we could go to a ball together.”

She squeezed his hands a bit tighter, “All right,” she smiled, “All right, but only if we can still go hunting for coconuts and go horseback riding through the town.”

“Whatever you want,” he grinned, “I’d go pirating just to spend another day with you.”

She froze, still with a smile on her face, “Would you really?”

He shrugged, “Maybe.”

~~~

A few years later and (Y/N) had found herself back in Port Royal and scouring the streets for her idiot brother.

After a long time coming mutiny from Barbossa, Jack was left stranded with nothing but a pistol. (Y/N) having fought and spit and destroyed half the Black Pearl to keep the mutiny from happening, she was left to the brig.

As skillful as she was, (Y/N) was out of the prison within a day, finding her way to a paddleboat and rowing for the remote island Jack was on. She was soon picked up by a real merchant boat that passed rumors of a peculiar wily man telling stories of roped sea turtles.

It led her to the nearest ports to where she learned Jack had stolen a sailboat that was headed to Port Royal.

And there she was in search of the pirate, hoping she could stop him before he did anything terribly stupid.

She spotted a curious number of redcoats marching in the streets. She tried to keep them from her mind as she nodded to some of the shopkeepers that recognized her from previous visits.

That was until she noticed a heavily scarfed man sneaking into the smithery, beads and all. She groaned, running for the shop.

“Jack,” she whispered, closing the wooden door behind her with a click of the lock. “What the devil are you doing here?”

He was hanging by the cogs of the donkey operated machine, accomplishing his goal of breaking his chained wrists apart.

“(Y/N)?” he said, “How did you find me?” He peered over his shoulder as if to see the army it must’ve taken to track him down to Port Royal.

She rolled her eyes, “After years pirating with me you still doubt my capabilities. I wasn’t about to stay on the Pearl with Barbossa and his stupid monkey.”

“I’ve found myself in a bit of a problem,” he said, brandishing the cuffs on his wrists.

“I can see that,” she cursed, hands on her hips, “You’ve got the entire British army knocking down every door.”

Speaking of which, someone was coming through the front.

“Damn,” (Y/N) whispered, feeling her brother drag her into a hiding place.

It was Will coming home, no doubt, from dropping off another well forged sword. He settled into the shop, inspecting his tools when he came upon a hat.

A pirate hat.

(Y/N) glared at her brother and bared her teeth, “You piss poor excuse for a pirate.”

Jack leapt from his hiding place, sword in hand to take back what was his. He directed the blade at Will’s chest.

“You’re the one they’re hunting,” Will said. “The pirate.”

“You seem somewhat familiar – have I threatened you before?”

(Y/N) smacked her face with a hand, scrounging for the nearest sword, which wasn’t hard considering they were in a blacksmith. She watched carefully as Will and Jack shared a few feints and parries with their swords.

She was impressed to see that Will had continued to practice his swordplay.

It wasn’t until a hurling sword stuck itself in the door that (Y/N) made her appearance.

“Will, stop!” she cried, brandishing her weapon, “Please, leave him alone.”

“(Y/N)?” he questioned, focus momentarily off his target, “When did you get to Port Royal?”

Jack had extracted his own sword, “Come along, dearest. It’s best we leave.”

Will flipped his head between the pair of them, “Excuse me?”

“I’m really sorry about this, Will.” She swallowed hard, sidestepping towards the window as Jack did the same, “But we need to go.”

“You and…?” he frowned, “The pirate?”

“My brother.”

Stunned, Will almost missed the attack coming from Jack. He swooped to the furnace and pulled out a red hot sword, blocking the incoming blow.

(Y/N) screamed, “Jack! Leave him alone!”

The pair of them struck and danced and parried around the forge – Will angrier than (Y/N) had ever seen him.

“How do you know (Y/N)?” he demanded.

Jack made a face as he blocked another blade, “How do you know (Y/N)?”

“He’s my brother, Will,” she cried, stomping her way to where she might join the swordfight. “I lied about him being a merchant.”

“A merchant,” Jack grimaced, “Could’ve done better with the lying, love.”

“(Y/N) is not a liar,” Will gained a few steps with his hard hitting blows, “She is an honest woman and a fair fighter.”

Her sword came between them, directing Will’s into the ground, “I’m sorry, Will.”

He was breathing heavy, bewildered, “But he’s a pirate.”

Jack pointed his sword in (Y/N)’s direction, exasperated, “SHE’S a pirate!”

Will gave him a scathing glare before completely disregarding his weapon and tackling Jack to the ground. They rolled around the hay and dirt as (Y/N) shouted at them.

“This is not how to handle a misunderstanding, Will! Jack, pull yourself together with what little dignity you have left. For God’s sake…” She planted herself between the brawling pair and shoved Jack to the side, keeping him from launching a counterattack.

“What is he so hellbent on protecting your name for?” Jack wheezed, using one of his many scarves to dab at his neck.

Will was boiling, “(Y/N) is an honorable woman and I won’t have you slander her name with titles like pirate. She is respectable and good and not at all capable of what you’re suggesting.” He looked towards (Y/N), “I refuse to think of the most important person to me as a criminal.”

(Y/N)’s mouth fell open, “Will…”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, mate,” Jack said, twirling his sword around, “But she’s my sister. And by association – a pirate.”

Will let his arms hang limp at his sides, staring at (Y/N)’s feet – unable to meet her eyes. “Is that true?”

“I knew I wouldn’t be welcome if I told you what I really was,” she grimaced, “I didn’t plan on us becoming friends.”

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, “All those gifts you gave me…”

“Listen, Will…” she didn’t dare take a step forward, “I know you’re mad. But I never lied about anything else. I never pretended around you. This is me, pirate or not. You know me. And this is not how I would’ve told you, but for the sake of me not getting hanged today – could you please let us go.”

Will looked deep in an inner turmoil, fists clenching as he fought over her words. Jack was still trying to yank out the sword pinning the door closed.

“I haven’t forgiven you…” he muttered, letting out a great sigh, “But there’s a path out back you can take for the docks.”

(Y/N) nodded, “Thank you.” She placed a hand on his arm while on her way out. “I’ll come find you tonight.”

He clenched his jaw, but finally looked at her, “Just come back safe.”

Her heart beat a little harder, a little warmer, “I will.”

~~~

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