#Womens Snake Boots

[melaninadorned]

Fall Vibes, Part 4 | Melanin Adorned

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

Long Stem Rose Tank from Keely ($103), Faux Leather Heston Straight Leg Pants in Jester Red from AFRM ($88) & Caty Ankle Boot in Black Snake from Matisse ($205)

[sandwichhour]

guess this is where all the dead peeps hang out

Have you drawn Quincey Morris? 👁👁

Well I have now

[fuutakaijyama]

#PYRAMIDS! boot. hill

☆ sum. purposely knocking off someone's cowboy hat is a fighting offense. Women, however, have a little leeway. A man who lets a woman wear his hat indicates that he's interested in seeing more of her - and if she takes it off him, it means that she'd like to take off some of his other attire too.

wc. 573—3,046 charas

warnings. fluff, suggestive, flirting, cute hangout, late night, pre established relationship, teasing, roaming hands, drinking, lap sitting, ass grabbing/smacking, afab!reader

It was no secret Boothill had a thing for you, and he wasn’t exactly trying to hide it either! Between all of the thigh rubbing, playful flirting, and that stupid fucking cowboy hat.. but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t wanna take his hat off of him and show him what you could do with that nimble body of yours.

Tonight? Tonight that was no different, scrolling mindlessly on your phone until you felt your phone buzz in your hands, looking to the top of your screen as you realized who texted you, damned Galaxy Ranger.

Long story short? He asked you to come out and get a drink, hang out with him for a little bit back at his place for a little while and maybe even spend the night. Here you were, black stilettos, little red dress that only went down mid-thigh, to top it all off a little necklace and a pair of earrings, and a clutch to go with it.

You threw your keys and your phone into your clutch, grabbing a jacket as you threw it over your shoulders before essentially slamming the door behind you.

“There’s the pretty girl!” You smiled as Boothill exclaimed, turning his head to face you, who was making your way to the couch in his apartment, wide, white, plush couch.. fidgeting with your dress as you sat next to him, your thigh grazing the metal of his own artificial body, in a way it felt like a kiss of life and immortality.

“Hey cowboy, get lonely?” You grin, looking at the array of alcohol sitting on the table silently, the different shapes, sizes and colors of the bottles reflecting off of the light in the room. He nods, slinging an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side.

“Yeah, but here you are all dolled up f’me. I can’t complain when I’ve got such a pretty little thing right here with me.” He teases, his hand moving to shift you to sit on his lap, your dress riding up your thighs exposing a bit of the panties you wore, not that he minded.

You follow his movements, your legs thrown over his thighs as your arms snake around his neck like overgrown vines on a gate, the intimacy of the situation both foreign and familiar.

You felt the alcohol burning your throat as his grip on your ass got tighter, metal hands slamming and gripping onto your sensitive, red, raw flesh as he shoved his tongue down your mouth past your lips, his teeth nipping at your skin as he groaned into you, feeling your whimpers against him, your hips grinding into his lap with a need for friction.

Your dress had been pushed up past your thighs and ass, bunched up at your waist as he practically rutted into you, pulling away to let you breathe.

“Boothill..” You whined, feeling his hand rub up and down the tender flesh of your rear, a way to make up for his rather.. harsh display of affection. Your hands found his hair, long, shiny, soft, black locks of hair, and sitting on top of them? His cowboy hat..

Without a second thought you pulled it off of him and onto yourself, one of his hands planted on your ass moving to cup the hand on your head.

“You takin’ off my hat, sugar?” He asks while his eyes travel up and down your dwarfed form in his lap, completely at his mercy “Yeah.. why?” You ask with clear scrutiny in your tone, a tease in your lips as you lean closer.

“You wanna let this gentleman take something else off of you in return?”

[tojipie]

Could you do shopping with dilf toji plss🫶🏽

“hmm.. turn around.” he commands with a grin, tracing a loose circle in the air with his pointer finger.

you stand unmoving with your back glued to the cool surface of the dressing room mirror. toji notices your hesitance, sighing playfully before blocking the doorway with his form.

“no one’s looking.” he whispers, gesturing to the empty corridor. “we’ll y’know, besides me.” he laughs.

“i don’t understand why you wanna watch me change so bad.” you mumble, turning towards the mirror to fiddle with the dress you have on. you loved the attention, but no amount of reassurance could quell the fear of a sales associate walking in on your massive boyfriend hanging out in the empty women’s changing area.

the older man stalks up behind you, two heavy work boots settling on either side of your legs. his rough hands snake their way under your shirt, rubbing up and down your sides.

“a man can’t have a look at what he’s paying for?” he teases, pinching your side with a quiet “tsk”.

you jump at the contact, giggling and turning around to cage yourself in his arms. the world starts to melt away as he pins you under him with his gaze, eyes raking over your form in silence.

“i’ll get it.” he mumbles, his mouth inches from yours.

“hm?”

“the dress.” he laughs, stepping back through the curtain and into the corridor. “i’ll get it for ya.”

[usetheeauthor]

Kinktober Day 5: Uniform

Ralph Penbury (Timewasters) x Time Traveler!Reader

Summary: Ralph’s going to join the French Foreign Legion but you just won’t let him go.

Warnings: 18+ smut, uniform kink, blowjob through pants, boot riding, cumming in pants, sub!ralph

“Love, please…I must leave at once.” Ralph whimpers. Yet despite his protests, he allows you access to his neck so you can properly pepper the soft skin with wet open-mouth kisses.

He’s leaving you today. For how long? Could be months or even years but you tried putting on a brave face about his impending departure. After all, it is for the best if you plan on going back home. Yet the time has finally arrived and you’re an absolute wreck.

It’s so strange to see how attached you grew to him considering how long it took for you to reciprocate your feelings for him. You had always found him to be quite the strange fellow. Very intense with his emotions, too. He instantly fell for you the moment he laid eyes on you but you were put off by his forwardness. Hell, he proposed to you the very next day you met!

All you cared for back then was to get back to your timeline so his pursuit of you seemed futile. His learning of your revulsion made him do all he could to prove himself as a worthy man for you. He wrote you songs of his love, tried sweeping you off your feet any chance he got (literally), and he’d been trying to save you in various situations so that you knew him as your protector…even if those situations were as small as throwing his jacket over a shallow puddle of water for you to walk over.

Slowly you warmed to him, simply because of the effort he’d gone through just to make you love him. But he could tell it wasn’t enough. So, his next bet was to join a greater cause wanting to build from those experiences and better himself. And that’s when you learned that he’d enlisted in the French Foreign Legion.

You thought you’d handle it just fine but now two weeks later and you’ve cracked under your cool facade the moment you see him in that dorky tan uniform. There’s a range of emotions that consume you: sadness, lust, yearning…it’s all so overwhelming. It feels too real.

You look up at him with doe eyes, cheeks stained with tears. “Don’t go,” You kiss him hotly, your tongue caressing his own. Once you part, a line of saliva connects your lips. Your hands roam down his body, desperately clawing him through his uniform. “Stay with me.”

He mewls when your hand cups him through rough material of his pants. “I cannot. It wounds me deeply to go but I must—“

You smash your lips against his hard enough for the hat on his head to land on the ground. You walk him backwards into his bed until you both fall against the mattress. You’re feral, hands and mouth all over him and he melts with bliss.

Ralph didn’t think the uniform would have this much of an effect on you. When he was advised by a confidant that women love a man in uniform, he took the concept and ran with it, immediately signing away his life for military service. The way you’re responding to it went far beyond his expectations. He isn’t even expected to be leaving until next week in actuality, only wearing the uniform to admire himself in the mirror when he caught you in the corner of the room with lust-filled yet wet eyes. But he’ll just save that tidbit of news for another time.

Because you finally understand. You’re just as pathetically needy as he’s always been for you. Although, you’re a lot more lewd in your approach.

You snake down his body until you’re on your knees at the edge of his bed, your face nudged between his legs. His eyes bug out of his head when you begin to suck on the tip of his cock through his pants. You were on the exact right spot. Ralph can feel the suction’s pressure around the crown with some of your saliva soaking through the thick material.

“Oh, my…” He gasps, eyes rolling in the back of his head.

Then to show off some more, you begin to knead his balls through the pants with precision, earning another surprise hitch in his breath. You lick a long stripe up his hardened base, enjoying the feeling of the mild abrasiveness of the fabric against your tongue. Even if you can’t get a proper taste him; the warm, heavy feeling of his cock against your tongue makes you moan out loud.

You soon find yourself grinding down on his combat boots as you latch your lips around the sensitive mushroom head again. His head falls back against the mattress but you sink your nails into his inner thigh, nails sharp enough to penetrate the tough cotton.

He recognizes correctly that it’s a warning to him that he mustn’t remove his eyes from you. So with fluttering eyes and those pink pouty lips, he watches you while he struggles to keep his eyes from rolling and his moans from pitching in tone. It shouldn’t feel this good but because it’s you, it’s heavenly.

“Going to cum, my love.” He rasps, large hand resting on top of your head for a moment as if he’s petting you.

This makes you ride his boot harder, making the steel-toed part of his shoe press directly against your clothed sensitive little nub. You cry out at the delicious feeling. You’re going to cum soon, too.

But he doesn’t get to cum until he tells you he’ll stay. Until you could somehow convince him to follow you back to your life instead.

“Tell me you’ll never leave me.” You demand while rubbing your cheek against him like a cat in heat.

“I’ll never leave you.” He sighs.

“Tell me you’ll follow me anywhere and everywhere I tell you.” You continue to rub your face over the crotch of his pants, looking at him with such tender and wide eyes that look so innocent despite the absolute filthiest thoughts they held in them.

“I’ll follow you. Anywhere, Everywhere you tell me. Please just let me cum,” He’s practically sobbing by this point. “I’ll be so good for you.”

“Cum for your love.” You say, giving him one heavy lick and, in the next second, he’s spurting inside his pants. The twitching within the confines of his pants is erratic. You sneak your hands beneath his shirt, soothing a hand over his belly as he whines and squirms beneath you.

Your high peaks at the sight of him, gushing your honeyed essence on the tip of his boot. You don’t stop rocking against him, wanting to feel his toes flexing within the shoe.

Aftershocks shoot through the both of you as you come down from your high. You continue to kiss and worship the leg you straddled until you rise up on shaky legs and go to lay beside him in bed.

He turns to look at you with a smile, still panting. “Does this mean you’ll marry me?”

[amartianonmars]

I was really enamored with all the fem Dethklok designs I saw around but I myself have a very specific vision for each girl, all described under the cut.

Natalie 'Nat' Explosion: She's taller than the average woman at 5'11 and has maintained a strong build from high school field hockey (most high schools I know don't really do women's football). She doesn't really go too heavy on the makeup besides stage makeup besides her signature black lipstick (which is just an overused eyeliner pencil) for that 'demon gurgling blood' look

Pickles the Drummer: She left her house after her mother didn't accept her transition into womanhood and joined an all female glam metal band, and while she has left that behind she can't help to do her makeup like the good ol' days. Usually its 3 days old and just cleaned up with a fresh coat of lipstick, her black nail polish reapplied usually when Nat does hers. She's pretty tall at 5'8" but still only the third tallest in the group. Her womb tattoo is a play on Snakes N Barrel's (there's a 'snake' in my 'barrel' so to speak) and she wears low rise jeans and shirts she cut herself to show it off. While the estrogen has kept the 'male pattern baldness' gene at bay, she still a white woman with dreads so she is still balding .

Winona 'Winny' Murderface: She's the shortest female member at 5'5", and she has the Napoleon complex to match. She rarely showers and shaves (the hair keeps coming up in weird patches) and has five identical outfits she cycles through. She never wore makeup growing up as an ugly duckling, every attempt shut down by bullying classmates and a conservative grandpa who claimed she looked like an 'ugly harlot' so Murderface usually goes bare face. Though every once in a while, Pickles and Seeveya will find a missing tube of lipstick in her bathroom that she claims to have 'never seen before'. Despite her 'masculine' interests and pick me behavior, she has bad luck with men, though her interests don't really seem fixated on them (she's gay AND homophobic)

Seeveya Skwisgaard: It's not actually her name (Svea, meaning literally 'from Sweden' according to Google), she pronounced it when introducing herself and everyone made assumptions on how it was spelled until it was bastardized to hell and back and she's too deep into fame to change it by the time she made it to Dethklok. The tallest member over Nat, she stands at 6'0" and is essentially built like a Swedish supermodel with the ego to boot. While she likes to keep her hair short and her appearance androgynous, she is extremely self conscious of being perceived as masculine due to her strong facial features and her small chest. Her makeup style is specially curated over years of trial and error, and she wakes up extra early despite her drug and booze fueled partying to make sure she's still the most beautiful woman in the room.

Toki Wartooth: Toki is the second shortest member of Dethklok at 5' 7", though the way she carries herself makes her seem much shorter. She's not the makeup type and lacks the patience for nail polish, though her natural beauty gives her no need for it. Despite this she does play dress up with Seeveya's (very expensive) products from time to time (including secret makeover sessions with Winny) and does love fun accessories, especially if she makes them herself. Despite her cute interests and fun demeanor, her build is strong from years of working in building in her old country. Her being used to hard labor means that when she's pent up she's usually at the gym for a few hours to relieve stress. Otherwise she's building planes, making bracelets for her band sisters, or working on her model planes.

Charlotte 'Charles' Offdensen: She's 5'6" (5' 8" with the heels) and is usually seen with a power suit and business ready makeup no matter the time or hour, her bun as tight and high strung as she is. Her strong energy and confident voice makes her an opponent as a business woman, though her glasses seem to be missing, well, the glass? Her plain-Jane appearance overlook her as the threat she truly is on the battlefield.

[11queensupreme11]

About the humans, how misoginistic would they be since they are from ancient periods (especially Adam) ? If Percy was raped by one of the gods, what would the humans do (especially Adam) ?

so for this question, it all stems down on not only what they believed back when they were alive, but how willing they were to change their beliefs after their deaths as times went on and stuff became more progressive

adam was the first ever human and since he got booted outta valhalla along with eve, he never got influenced by the gods' misogyny THANK GOD plus he's just too good to ever think of such a thing especially since his own wife was nearly sexually assaulted by that snake bitch. ALSO, since he was the first ever human, the concept of misogyny (at least for humans) didn't exist for him. misogyny only ever became a thing when more and more humans started popping out

unfortunately, all of the human fighters came from a time where misogyny was extremely rampant and in some cases (depending on countries maybe) before women even had voting rights 💀 the youngest is simo hayha (1905-2002) 💀💀💀💀

confucianism was already a thing before qin shi huang's reign, but thankfully he hated it so much that he had confucian scholars buried alive and their books burned LMAO (he was known as a tyrant just like a certain daddy we know) but it definitely wasn't because of how misogynist confucianism was. i'm trying to google some more stuff about him rn, but all i could find rn is that women still had shitty lives under his rule, and he had no wife, just concubines. not much info on how he treated women, but then again, in ror we know he loved and respected his mother figure, chun yan. but just because he treated one woman right doesn't mean he's like that with all women unfortunately, but lets hope chun yan can keep him under control 💀💀

then there's also leonidas. i can't find any excepts of him being particularly cruel towards women or saying anything crass, but he's from ancient fucking greece 💀💀

i don't have time to search up more about the others, but i feel like tesla's probably decent. he was alive between 1856-1943 which was also a very bad time for women, but i found stuff about how he has praised some women for their intelligence (though sometimes it could come off as patronizing but again, 1856-1943). for arsenic blues, i'm planning on writing him off as a very progressive and caring more about intelligence rather than gender. so he definitely won't be sexist.

SO ANYWAY, realistically, more than half of these people were probably sexist to various degrees in real life 💀💀 but i most likely won't write all of them like that in arsenic blues. the more ancient characters would probably be pretty bull-headed in their sexist views, but i'll just have them be more patronizing (especially since percy's not just a girl, but a CHILD in their eyes), rather than full-on spitting vitriol at her for her gender.

(they're basically picking favorites, like ppl in real life would do 💀 "yeah [insert marginalized group] are kinda inferior, but not you though, you're different!" 💀💀💀💀)

also, as for your question, ALL of them would be pissed. yes, even the sexist ones. percy is someone close to them, a child they all care about. so ofc they'd be pissed, and it doesn't help that they already HATE the gods for all the shit they've put humanity through over the millions of years 💀💀

[chibipeachu]

Pretty Songbird || Aleksander M.

A/N: I watched snakes and songbirds and had this ideas stuck in my head ever since i saw it last week, idk if it's gonna be a series, if you have any ideas pls tell me!!

WC: 1311 Warning: Fem!Reader, the moon summoner trope, not proof read so i take credit for mispelling or mistakes..

Alina sighed as herself and Mal walked into a busy club to get away from their pursuers.

“It should be too crowded to notice us in this crowd, just keep the hood on.” Mal whispered to Alina as they moved closer to the stage where others stood, waiting for the performer. 

“Want something?” 

Alina turned and nodded as Mal gave a quick nod before walking to the bartender.

As alina went to stand near a corner of the crowded club she bumped into another young girl. “Aww, sorry..” “Ah, i’m sorry.”  They both apologized to one another.

“It’s alright, just a throbbing but it’ll go away with a drink.” The girl brushed it off and gave alina a smile. 

“You look familiar..” Alina felt her heart drop, as the expression the girl made was of realization. “You’re her aren’t you?” Alina tensed up and lifted her hand in case she need to summon to stop the girl from doing something.

“It’s alright, your safe here, i just recommend the further booth over there if you don’t want to draw attention..” Alina followed the girls direction and saw an empty booth and nodded at her. “Thank you..?” She waited for a name.

“Y/n, i’m a performer here tonight.” She smiled and pointed towards the stage were drunks and many excited people stood waiting.

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

People whispered to one another as they noticed the brooding, darkling who was accompanied with other grisha, they all had looks of distaste on their faces as they scanned the club. 

Alesksander’s attention jumped as two women in front of him talked about the performer. 

“Is it true she can summon?” 

“Rumors say she can but was sick during her testing and got dismissed.” 

Before any of them could provide aleksander with information, a young woman, dressed in a loose blouse and what looked like the first army pants.

“Based on all the chatter I could hear from back there, I assume it’s about myself?” You grinned as you scanned the crowd.

A mixed of positive responses came from the busy club.

Aleksander noticed how each of his grisha searched the crowd.

“Aww stop it, i’m blushing!” You playfully waved to the crowd before turning to the band who waited for your sign to play.

As the band started up, you danced around the stage a bit.

“So if you don’t know, i wrote this many, many, many years ago when i was stuck as a showstopper for tow men on each side of the fold, one more then the other..” You referenced to your pants before raising an eyebrow.

Aleksander wasn’t surprised, zlatan of course wouldn’t share a summoner with anyone, especially the king and aleksander.

“Can’t take my charm,

Can’t take my humor,

Can’t take my wealth, cause it’s just a rumor.

Nothing you can take was ever with keeping.

No nothing you can take was every worthing keeping.”

As alina listened to your singing she glanced around the room and froze as she spotted aleksander and the other grisha in the club.

Alina subtly nudged mal who popped up and ushered alina through the crowd to leave quickly.

As you took a breath, you felt yourself stop for a moment, as you took note of the dark eyes of the darkling.

“Thinking you’re so fine,

Thinking you could have mine.

Thinking in control, thinking you can change me, maybe rearrange me.

Think again if that’s your goal.” 

You stomped your boots at each sentence, making the crowd cheer.

Through the small break of your singing, you held strong eye contact with the darkling, from what zlatan had told you, he was saving you from the general who had “tossed your abilities aside” those were the only words you believed from the first general, you had tried to get test when you were a teen but got reject when you said you could summon.

“Can’t take my sass,

Can’t take my talking.

You can kiss my ass,

Then keep on walking!

Nothing you can take was ever worth keeping,

Oh, nothing you can take was ever worth keeping.” You stared him down while continuing to sing.

Zoya scoffed as she followed your and aleksander’s gaze to one another. 

Aleksander looked away from you to look at the sour expression on her face.

“She’s insulting you to your face..” 

“I know..” He responded, his eyes moving back onto you which your eyes were closed as you finished the song.

“Nothing you can take from is worth dirt,

Take it cause i’d give it free, it won’t hurt.

Nothing you can take was ever worth keeping..”

As you finished the crowd cheered making you grin and gave a bow before walking to your bandmate and motioned for behind the stage before exiting, they band continued to play as you left.

Aleksander hadn’t noticed zoya rambling on how disrespectful you were, he piped up as you left the stage. “I’ll be back.” He told zoya before walking outside the club.

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

You quietly exited from the building and leaned against the building.

You were now screwed, after many blissful years away from zlatan and kirigan it had to come crashing down.

Being upset you got up and kicked the tins in the back alley of the club.

“That was quite the show..” You jumped at the general’s voice.

“General kirigan..” You greeted, walking to pick up the fallen over tins. 

“You worked under zlatan?” He questioned, making you chuckle. 

“What made it obvious? My clothes or the song?” You asked, putting the lid back on before turning to his figure.

“He rarely sent letters to the palace grounds to let us know of anything.” 

You scoffed, knowing where he was trying to lead the conversation.

“Bullshit, don’t play like you never knew about me, I stood in front of grisha testers and was denied a retest because of my ability, each test is shown in front of you, in your lap to see the newest grisha!” You walked closer to him as you went on.

“Nice try to play that card but the only words I ever believed from zlatan was that you tossed me aside.” You brushed past the darkling and went to enter the club again but was stopped by him grabbing your wrist in a tight grasp and pulling you back to face him.

“You could train in the little palace with others, be with your own kind.” He tried to convince you.

“You missed that train where I wanted to fit in with others badly, I will not be trained to replace your little sun summoner.” You ripped your wrist form his grasp and walked back into the club.

Aleksander stood by himself in the alley, shocked you had decline his offer.

After he collected himself he walked into the club to collect his grisha.

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

Weeks had passed since the incident at the club.

Aleksander hadn’t been expecting a meeting with the king, he was confused at the sudden arrangement.

“Tsar.” Aleksander greeted as he entered his war room.

“General.” King Pyotr greeted, letting aleksander step in further before continuing. 

“Is there a reason you called upon me?” Aleksander questioned.

“When you were visiting ryevost, did you happened to see this girl?” The king unfolded a drawing of the singer he had a conversation with weeks ago.

“She’s rumored to be a moon summoner, if anything, everyone’s after her. And i believe she’ll do good here in the little palace under your control.” He continued, aleksander studied the poster.

“I’ll send grisha to find her…” The king smiled and nodded in aleksander’s direction before getting up and leaving.

Once gone, aleksander picked up the paper to admire your beauty. 

“I’ll find you, songbird..” He muttered as he read over the paper.

Y/N Y/L/N  - GRISHA - WANTED BY KING PYOTR AND GENERAL KIRIGAN.

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 21

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, smut (p in v, dirty talk, spanking), fluff, angst, comfort

Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: It's finally happening! Get the Office gifs ready 👀😂 It's so good to bring this series back after such an unexpectedly long time away. We've got five more chapters left, so let's make 'em count with as much drama and ridiculousness as possible, shall we? Ready? And action! 🎬

<< 20 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

21. Rock You Like A Hurricane

Dean swallows the clot that has formed in the back of his throat as the first button of her white cotton blouse flies open. The air in the office feels dry, his mind hazy. Is he dreaming? Once again, he reminds himself to stop mixing booze and blow. It never ends well and barely ever helps.

Another step forward, another button, another swallow.

Y/N is a Fata Morgana, a mirage, slowly moving towards him through blurry lines and summer heat.

“Don’t you want me?”

The innocent lip bite that accompanies her question sends him downstairs, predestining him to burn in hellfire. He swallows again. Of course, he wants her. He always does.

The heels of his boots dig into the rotten floorboards as he pushes back on his office chair, enough to free his thighs from underneath the wooden desk and show off the bulging erection blooming in his jeans. It started to form as soon as she walked in and turned that damn lock behind her back.

The corners of her pink lips rise to a smile. She likes what she sees, and soon enough, she finds herself slotted between his bow legs with his greedy palms smoothing up her denim-clad thighs until they find a home on the juicy globes of her ass and squeeze tight. Green eyes darken as they wander up her frame before they meet two sparkling orbs that mirror his own lust back to him.

More buttons spring open, the blouse slipping off her shoulders and hitting the ground. A gray leotard becomes visible, two pointed peaks on luscious hills poking through the thin material, his mouth forming a ring around one of them, hot air igniting her skin and stealing her breath. Her arms weave around his neck, her head lolls back between her shoulder blades, her legs grow unsteady. Eyes close, fingers tangle in his hair and claw at his skin.

One large hand travels to the front, works the zipper of her jeans, and shimmies the denim fabric down two smooth thighs. His other arm snakes around her waist, holds her tight, and pulls her closer until she straddles his lap and lets their hips fuse into one.

Their eyes find each other. Gently, he brushes her hair out her face, tucks it behind her ears, strokes her flushed cheeks. She’s breathless and breathtaking, and then she dips her head and catches his lips, kissing him until he is, too.

“Wait, wait, wait…” He draws back in a drunk state of mind and gasps for air, hoping oxygen will help in clearing his head.

“What?” She pouts, her voice velvety soft and delirious.

“I just-… I have to ask you something first, make sure…” The air works wonders, the fog dissipates from his mind. Green eyes watch her closely. There’s something off, something wrong, something out of place. Y/N wouldn’t just stroll into his office and throw herself at him. As much as he enjoys this little dream sequence, it’s not who she is. “Why are you doing this? You’re not-, uhm…” He swallows harshly, his mind racing in circles. “You’re not fucking me, so I’ll stop being mad at you, right? ‘Cause that’s not what I want.”

God, the thought alone kills him. It’s his goddamn nightmare. What if he subconsciously manipulated her to do this? What if he’s taking advantage of her? What if he drove her so desperate that she sees this as her only option? What if she actually doesn’t want this?

But a gentle smile forms on her face instead. She pecks his lips, rests her forehead against his, and softly shakes her head. There’s amusement in her voice. “You already said you weren’t mad at me, remember?”

“Then why?”

Y/N shrugs and licks her ample lips. “I want to. I want you… You’re the best guy I know. I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more,” she assures him with a sweet smile and caresses the scruff on his cheeks, her hips grinding against his crotch. “It’s just-…” She bites down on her lower lip, cutting off her sentence.

“What? Tell me, sweetheart.” He clutches her chin and draws her gaze to meet his eyes.

“Even with the show being over, I don’t want the girls to find out,” she confesses nervously.

Dean nods in understanding and gifts her a smile. “Lucky for you, I’m good at keeping secrets. Have I ever let you down in that regard?”

She thinks for a beat, then shakes her head and matches his smile. “No.”

“See?” He grins, showing his pearly white teeth, and pulls her lips back to his for a searing kiss that seals their deal.

His hands begin to roam the curves they’re holding, her hips rocking against his in a needy rhythm, desperately searching for more friction to scratch the unbearable itch he seems to cause.

“Need you so bad, need this cock so bad…” she whispers between kisses and ragged breaths.

“Yeah? You think you can get off like that?” Dean lifts his thigh a little higher, shoves it right against her clothed cunt to give her a bit more friction, and listens to her whimpers in satisfaction. “Show me how much you want this… want me, baby girl. Wanna know how desperate you are for this cock, Y/N. Work for it.” His challenge is accompanied by a little smirk, which soon disappears and becomes stuck in his throat when Y/N accepts with eager nods.

Shit, he really needs to stop underestimating her. That’s already been his first mistake when he met her.

Her arms lock tighter around his neck for more balance as she rubs her pussy against the rough denim that covers his thick thigh. Her breathing grows so labored that kissing becomes an impossibility, the need for air in her lungs greater than the need to stay connected. The strong arm slung around her waist helps her move while his other hand tweaks, pinches, and gropes her tit, prying the gray cotton of her leotard over one shoulder to free the flesh and expose her nipple to the cool office air and his hot breath. He feels a wet patch forming on his leg, sees the stain on his jeans from her arousal as he peeks down between them.

“Dean, I’m–…”

Y/N doesn’t have to say it out loud. He can see it on her face that she’s damn close. “Such a good girl. Cum for me, huh? Let me finally fill and stretch this nice pussy with my cock, baby. Been waiting for you,” he coos. “Bet you’re so tight, yeah? How long’s it been?” His tongue licks the hardened bud before he pops her tit in his mouth and sucks, bites, tears.

“Fuck!”

She explodes, his name falling from her lips in prayer as she trembles and quivers in his arms. Her mouth parts, sucks in as much air as she can to fuel her lungs. Her arms cling to him, fingers denting the skin on his broad shoulders.

“That’s my girl,” Dean praises her, smiling as he lets her ride out her orgasm. “So, so pretty when you come. I missed that face.”

“Dean, please… Need you inside me now,” she purrs against his lips, swallowing his groans as they connect.

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Uh-huh, please,” she begs breathily. “How d’you want me, boss?”

“What do you want, Y/N?” Hearing what a woman wants him to do to her or what she wants to do to him has always been one of the biggest turn-ons for him. “Tell me.”

“Want you to bend me over your desk, take me hard, punish me… Been a bad girl. Need you to punish me, please,” she whimpers and hungrily claims his lips, her nails digging into his jaw.

Now, Dean should probably be worried or at least stumped by her somewhat strange request. Not because it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard a woman ask for in the bedroom, but because it’s not necessarily something Y/N would say. However, she’s also an actress, and he’s about 99.9% sure she’s playing a role and following a script in her head. And well, hey, he likes playing too, so who would he be to deny her wishes? He’s been dreaming about spanking her ass and punishing his favorite Russian villain for weeks at this point.

“I think we can arrange that, baby girl,” he promises, a saucy smirk plastered on his lips. “But first – need to see your face when I break you in, yeah?”

Y/N grins and nods against his lips, her hand reaching down between their heated bodies and unbuckling his belt, pulling it from its loops, metal clinking before the sound of a zipper follows. Lifting her ass from his lap, he helps her strive off the denim, pushing it down his legs till it pools by his ankles, only leaving a thin barrier of cotton between them.

“Condom?”

Dean nods and motions for her to stand up, so he can reach into the bottom drawer of his desk. As he fishes out a foil packet, Y/N discards her leotard, nothing but naked skin and flesh left for his eyes to devour. Removing his own pair of boxers, his long cock bounces against his stomach and stretches to his belly button, fully erect, head swollen, and leaking at the tip. He tears the foil with his teeth and rolls the latex down his aching length before his hands drag her back into his lap.

Her arms settle on his muscular shoulders, her lips find and bruise his as he lines himself up with her entrance and threads his dickhead through her dripping folds. Her cunt is pink and glistening, hot and wet as he slowly slides inside, lets her feel every inch that fills her tight hole to the brim, her small body sinking down on him till they’re inseparable.

A moan escapes them both when he’s fully sheathed in her heat, and Dean knows lasting long would border on a miracle. Her mouth falls open as he stretches her tight walls, her eyes seeking his and not daring to look anywhere else. Unsurprisingly, Y/N takes direction well. She remains connected to him – mind, body, and soul.

“Fuck, Dean,” she breathes and swallows at the sheer thickness inside of her, her eyes finally falling closed as their foreheads meet.

Dean caresses her cheek and softly pecks her hairline. He then shuts his eyes as well and just focuses on the feeling of her wrapped around him for a blissful heartbeat. This is all he ever wanted.

Her. Here.

“You good?” he checks, his fingers trailing soothingly up and down her spine as she relaxes her muscles and adjusts to his size.

A gentle smile twitches and tugs on her lips. “Yeah, I’m great… You feel great.”

“You know, if you keep giving me compliments like that, it’s gonna be hard for me to smack your perky ass purple and blue,” he chuckles and watches a grin form.

“I like to make things hard for you,” she sasses and kisses his lips, her pussy purposely gripping his throbbing dick.

“There’s my bad girl.” Dean can’t fight the smile on his face. “Alright, you ready?”

Dean doesn’t have to wait for an answer as her hips begin to lift and rock against him, calming like the Pacific waves and soothing like the lullabies his mother used to sing when he was sick as a child.

“M-more,” Y/N whines, the needy desperation haunting her vocal chords.

“Beg for it,” Dean whispers, nuzzling his nose against her ear with a smirk.

“Please… Please fuck me, boss,” she rasps her pleas. “Need it hard and fast.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” Dean catches her lips, the kiss scorching and lasting before his hands smooth up her bare thighs and grab her ass tight, lifting them both from the chair.

Swiftly, her soles hit the ground as he swirls her in his hold and bends her over his desk. Her tits press flush against the wood, his palms finding her hips as he pulls her closer to him, ass up until it brushes against his solid length. With his knees, he spreads her legs wide and easily slots between them. He palms both asscheeks, caresses the skin before he administers his first slap, the sound echoing through his quiet office with her whimper as he watches the juicy flesh ricochet, completely entranced.

“You got a safe word, Y/N?” Dean asks as he soothes the red spot on her cheek.

“Hmmm,” she muses and bites her lower lip, and he can see the mischief twinkling in her orbs. She giggles, “What about ‘camera guy’?”

His palm strikes the other globe, making her yelp and jolt on the spot.

“Ow, fuck!” Y/N’s moan drowns in a laugh. “Jesus, Dean, I was just kidding.”

The director chuckles, “Yeah, well, I wasn’t.” With one harsh and fast thrust, he drives his cock back into her tight cunt, causing her to slam forward, her hips bruising against the desk. Her fingers curl tightly around the edge, knuckles white as she keeps herself pinned in place. He leans forward, his chest pressing against her back as his warm breath fans against the shell of her ear, his blunt fingernails denting the skin on her hips. Smirking, he demands, “Safe word. Now.”

“Fuck, uhm…” Breathlessly, her mind spirals, his cock slowly dragging in and out of her and not stopping to give her even a second to ponder. “Squirrel?”

“Squirrel it is,” he agrees amusedly, straightening as he picks up his pace and drives in deeper, watching as his dick gets swallowed by her soaking cunt, his swollen shaft glistening with her slick. “Shit, baby girl… Wish you could see how well you take me. Your needy little pussy sucks my fat cock right in,” he groans, listening in delight as his balls slap against her ass with each roll of his hips.

“Maybe you can bring your camera next time, boss,” Y/N mewls her suggestion as she falls apart underneath him.

“Yeah? Would you like that, huh? Would you like to see how fucking desperate you are for me, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh, would love that, boss. Wanna see how you fuck me and split me open,” she breathes hazily, her moans getting louder with each slam of his hips. “F-fuck, so close… Wanna come on your cock, please.”

“Oh, we can arrange that, sweetheart,” Dean chuckles, his breathing growing more labored as well as sweat starts to collect on his skin in sticky beads. He’s close, too, feels his cock throb and swell inside of her. His palm smacks her asscheek one last time. She cries out with pleasure as the sting burns her skin, her pussy clenching around his dick and gripping it tight.

But just as his hand sneaks to her front and finds the sensitive little nub, their ears both perk up as the big metal door of the gym flies open and a wave of female chatter floods inside.

“Oh, shit!” Y/N moans loudly at his last violent pound into her pussy before Dean’s palm covers her mouth and stops the rest from spilling out.

Pulling her up, her back straightens and presses flush against his body. He slows his thrusts but still pushes in deep enough to tickle her cervix and keeps the little circles on her clit alive, feeling her knees give in as her legs become putty. Her breathing is harsh and restricted against his palm, her lips straining and tightening to keep the screams inside.

“Ssh, ssh, ssh… you’re doing so, so good, baby,” Dean whispers his praises into her ear and chuckles as she clenches hard around his dick. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Trust me, they won’t hear us over their blabbering,” he chuckles. “Relax, okay? Let loose… little more,” he orders her, feeling the tension in her muscles shift to her head as she bites down on his fingers to keep it locked inside. “There you go… Gonna need you to come quietly, and I’ll be right behind you, alright? Can you do that?” Y/N nods against his hand. “Good girl,” he coos and pecks her temple quickly.

And then, he draws out till only the tip remains inside her drenched channel before he roughly slams back in. His thrusts become relentless in both speed and force as he fucks her, her screams of pleasure only muffled by his palm and the harsh bite of her lip. Tears sting her eyes and stream down her cheeks, trickling onto his fingers at the intense pressure as her walls tighten. One more thrust, and they begin to flutter, her body convulsing as she falls over the cliff and milks his cock for all he’s got, pulling him over the edge with her.

A primal grunt rumbles in his chest and crawls out of his throat, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips behind as he spills hot ropes of his seed into the condom, his cock throbbing in rhythm with her twitching cunt. His hand falls from her mouth as she braces her palms on the wooden surface in front of her.

Deliriously, they both gasp for air, every breath jagged before the storm within them calms. Dean brushes her hair from her sweat-covered neck and lovingly kisses the salty skin on her shoulder blade, a blissful smile gracing his lips.

The sun blinds her eyes as Y/N stands on the green, perfectly cut lawn of the Dusty Spur. The boys have called an emergency meeting at the motel this time, gathering all the women in front of the reception outside.

It’s been three days since she has fucked the director in his office. He was careful not to leave any marks on her throat behind or anywhere else where it might catch unwanted attention, no one batting eyelashes at the new bruises on her hips that joined some of the old ones from training.

Dean told her he wanted a repeat of their encounter, whispering the dirtiest and most sinful promises into her ear. However, they haven’t seen much of each other since then. Both of them have been quite busy after the news of their new time slot and impending cancelation broke. And while it certainly dampened the lighthearted mood in the gym for a day, hope was not entirely lost, though, and still thrived in everyone but Y/N and Jo.

Yet, the two of them played along with the illusion the show still could be saved for the sake of the team. She didn’t know why Jo was entertaining the farce, but Y/N did it for her friends and, well, Dean, who’d been pondering and working nonstop to try and figure out what went wrong in his well-oiled machinery.

Y/N hates that he blames himself, not having the guts to tell him it’s in reality all her fault. Even with his sunglasses on his freckle-dusted nose, she can see the bags under his green eyes from the lack of sleep in recent days and feels more guilt pooling in the pits of her stomach. She doesn’t want him to be mad at her again, which is why she’s glad she can use Billie’s new, harsh training regiment as a good excuse to avoid him.

“They gave a men’s wrestling show our slot! And you wanna know why, hm?” Cas throws his rhetorical question into the group. Y/N has never seen the producer so angry and swallows more shame down. “Truth is, they’re better! They fly higher and hit harder!

“They hit harder because they’re bigger. It’s physics,” Y/N points out and tries to keep her annoyance at bay. It’s a men’s world they’re living in, and she’s getting sick and tired of the comparisons.

“Oh, fuck physics, Y/N!” Cas yells, causing her to flinch at his tone. “I need you to take everything you got and push it all the way to the limit, okay?”

“I don’t know what else we can do. We’ve been training for hours almost every day. Sun up till sun down,” Donna says and sighs.

Maybe it’s not too late, and Y/N should request a private meeting with Dick at the network, try and smooth things over before they get any worse. Maybe a blowjob in the office is enough to get them their old slot back and save the show. Dean wouldn’t ever have to know, right?

Besides, would he even care? Maybe he’d be grateful. After all, she doesn’t have much worth beyond fucking someone if you asked anyone here.

“I don’t need to hear excuses. I need to hear results,” Cas huffs and places his hands on his squared-off hips, shaking his head.

“You want bigger moves? Fine, you’ll get ‘em,” Billie assures him with a biting fighter spirit.

Cas’ lips curve into an enthusiastic smile. “That’s what I wanna hear! Look, I know this is gonna be hard, but I believe in miracles, and we’re going to make this miracle happen!”

Jo heaves a sigh. “Right, so we break our bodies and wrestle harder and magically get our time slot back?” she asks wryly, but her sarcasm is sadly lost on Cas.

“Yes!” the producer agrees joyously. “Look, I have it from Richard Roman himself that this is what they’ve been missing.”

At that, Jo’s blaming eyes wander to Y/N as the two former friends share a look. Shamefully, Y/N averts her gaze to the green grass underneath her feet, and Jo clenches her jaw tightly and starts to grind her teeth. Ever since their heated conversation in the gym, things have went downhill between them. Nowadays, there are just judgmental looks and passive-aggressive comments passed between them.

“So you met with Richard Roman?” Jo turns her unresolved anger towards the guys.

Cas groans loudly and rolls his blue eyes back. “Jo, I’m sorry, okay? It was a guy thing. We had to storm the gates,” he explains.

“Yeah, don’t get back up on your feminist high horse, alright? We didn’t leave you out, okay?” Dean jumps to Cas’ defense and unsuccessfully smooths things over. “We just think your focus should be on performing this week, you know? You and Y/N have a big match coming up. The, uh, continuing tale of the bereaved mother and the insane Russian, right?”

Jo nods and clenches her jaw once more, biting back her surely fiery comments.

“Okay, enough talking! Let’s do it!” Cas announces eagerly and claps his palms together as the women scatter back to their rooms to get ready for today’s training.

“What time do you wanna rehearse today?” Y/N bitterly asks her blonde opponent, already expecting a bitchy answer.

“Oh, any time, really. I mean, we could rehearse all day and night. It won’t make a difference,” Jo replies in an annoyed tone as anticipated. “You of all people should know that.”

Y/N watches Jo leave, trying her hardest not to strangle her former friend. She gets it. She fucked up, but she still doesn’t agree with Jo. Would sleeping with Roman and sacrificing her dignity really have saved the show?

“Hey, everything alright?” Dean’s deep voice startles her. She was so preoccupied with killing Jo in her mind, she hasn’t even noticed the director sneak up on her. “I know Cas was a little intense today. Never seen the guy this riled up before. It’s like a puppy getting rabies.”

Y/N forces a chuckle from her throat and brushes him off. “Oh, uhm, yeah, wasn’t so bad. I get it.”

Dean’s brow creases, sensing something is off with her. Shit. She does not want the director to find out about what happened.

“You’re not mad at me, right? I know I’ve been a bit MIA the last few days. It’s just been crazy with everything going on,” he explains sincerely and shoots her a soft smile. “I meant to call you or at least talk to you. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, no, like I said, I get it, Dean. Don’t worry about me, okay?” she assures him and compels another smile to her face before her curiosity takes over. “Did Roman really say our moves weren’t good enough?”

Her hope comes flooding back. Maybe it truly wasn’t her fault. Maybe the guy hits on so many actresses on a weekly basis that he doesn’t even care if one rejects him. Maybe it’s just all in her goddamn head, and it was just bad luck all around.

Dean shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. “Well, he didn’t say it exactly like that, but you girls are amazing. He’s gonna change his mind, and you’ll be back in your old slot in no time,” he promises her hopefully.

“Yeah, I guess so…” Fuck. It’s definitely about her.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dean checks again, noticing her absentminded behavior. Y/N’s usually chipper, eager, talkative, and hard to keep contained. She’s a warrior. The woman in front of him right now is the complete opposite, however. He almost doesn’t recognize her, and it worries him a little.

Is it him? Did he break her?

“Uh-huh, yeah, just tired, you know? Billie’s been riding us pretty hard this week,” Y/N excuses her strange mood with a half-truth, and Dean seems to buy it.

“Yeah, I bet.” He nods understandingly, chuckling. “Well, uhm, I’ve got some free time tonight. You wanna come over for dinner and I don’t know maybe… stay? You could ride me pretty hard, too,” he suggests, making her snort. “Admittedly, that sounded better in my head. Sorry.”

“No, uhm, I’d love to,” she replies honestly, giggling at his bashfulness. “But I’m pretty beat. Probably gonna fall into bed around seven like a dead person. Raincheck?”

Truthfully, there’s nothing she’d rather do than spend her nights (and days) with Dean, but the guilt in her belly is eating her alive. She can barely look him in the eyes. As of right now, though, she can see even more disappointment shimmering in his green orbs.

“Sure, yeah. Open invitation, sweetheart,” he says and acts as if her rejection doesn’t bother him. “But still, if all you wanna do is sleep, then you’re welcome to do that at my place as well. I do have the better mattress than the motel. Maybe a good night’s rest and a hot bath is all you need to recover, you know?”

Hot bath. The words make her skin crawl and take her right back to that horrible night where it all went wrong. How could she have been so stupid?

Y/N swallows the lump in her throat and fights for words. “Oh, uhm… I don’t, uh…”

“Hey, it’s okay, alright? No explanation needed, sweetheart,” Dean says and lets her off the hook. “Just wanted to offer, you know?”

“Thanks, another time.” Y/N forces one last smile to her lips.

Dean hasn’t seen Y/N in a whole week. Well, that’s not entirely true. He sees her every day at training in the gym, rolling around with Jo in the ring. But he hasn’t seen her privately since their little naughty stint in his office.

By now, he’s sure she’s avoiding him for some reason, but he doesn’t have the guts nor the balls to ask her straight. He’s too afraid of her answer, scared she has changed her mind about them and their arrangement. He’d accept it, of course, but he still doesn’t want to find out if that’s the reason why she keeps her distance. It would most certainly break his heart.

A knock on his office door makes his head snap up with hope that it’s Y/N. Either she’s here for another booty call or to end it. He’s prepared for both. To his surprise, though, it’s Donna who’s stopping by for a visit.

“Dean? Can we talk?” the curvy blonde asks insecurely, concern etched into every crease of her face.

“Sure, uh, what’s up?” Dean knows Donna and Billie have given their all to train the girls over the last few weeks, and if production could afford it, he’d give them both a gigantic raise. Unfortunately, he can’t but hopes it’s the thought that still counts.

“It’s about Y/N and Jo,” she informs him, and his ears perk up at that.

He’s noticed some tension between those two as well, so he’s not as surprised as he should have been. But honestly, sometimes it’s hard to tell what those two are fighting about. If it’s something new or just the same old beef.

“Usually, they do a good job of keeping their weird friendship stuff out of the ring, but not in the last week. There’s something wrong with them,” Donna tells him.

No shit, Dean thinks. Those two having issues is not an entirely new thing.

“What d’you want me to do about it?” Dean asks. He knows Donna didn’t just stroll into his office to chat and gossip. She’s looking for direction. Like the rest of these women downstairs, the blonde expects him to solve their problems. In the end, that’s his job.

“Postpone the match,” Donna prompts, the worry deepening. “I don’t think they should fight. They’re not communicating properly. Someone’s gonna get hurt.”

Dean tries not laugh, but in reality, it’s just fucking funny. Do these women ever think things through? Y/N and Jo’s match is the main storyline, the two of them being the best fighters as well. If they’re not entering the ring, he might as well just throw in the towel now and quit. The show would never make it back on air.

“Donna, I can’t do that,” he tells her frustratedly and runs a palm over his face. “C’mon, don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like they’re gonna kill each other.”

“Dean–” Donna is about to interject when he stops her.

“Fine, all right? I’ll talk to her,” the director assures the blonde.

Donna’s brow shoots up. “Her?”

“Them. I’ll talk to them,” Dean corrects quickly and watches her leave his office, clearly dissatisfied with his solution.

Dean hates West Hollywood like a mouse hates a cat. He can’t believe he fucking agreed to this thing in the first place. And the only reason he did agree was his stupid daughter, who’s not even here tonight because she’d rather spend time with her boyfriend than with her dad.

Fucking teenagers…

Honestly, Dean’s got no clue why he still came here without Claire. Maybe because he’s old-school and actually keeps his commitments, or maybe it’s because he’s got nothing better to do since neither his kid nor his not-girlfriend want to spend time with him. So, it was either getting drunk at home alone like he always does or do this.

As Dean enters the dark theater, he notices not a lot of seats are taken. Surprise, surprise! No one cares about him or his movies…

There’s a group of teenagers in the front row, though, who seem to be way to young to watch one of his films. But who is he to judge? He’s not their fucking parent. God knows he’s got his hands full with one teenager already.

He’s about to take a seat somewhere in the back when his green eyes spy a familiar head of hair. His heart skips a beat when he recognizes his favorite actress. Out of all the places in all the world, he’d never thought he’d meet her here.

“Hey,” he says as soon as he’s made it to her row. Her head darts up, but she doesn’t seem too surprised to see him here, which makes this coincidence even weirder. He assumed she strolled by this theater by accident and saw one of his movies was showing, deciding to check it out, which just so happens to flatter him and stroke his ego perfectly fine. “What are you doing here?”

Dammit. That sounded way too aggressive. He’s honestly happy she’s here; he just hasn’t expected it. Call it a ‘pleasant surprise.’

“Oh, uh, Claire invited me,” Y/N explains and gulps nervously. “But I can leave if you don’t want me here.”

Damn that kid. Of course, she meddled in his affair. Does she know he likes Y/N? Is it that obvious? Well, either way, someone’s getting a bigger allowance this week. Doesn’t he have the best kid?

“No, uh, stay. Please,” he says and sends Y/N his best smile. “Can I sit with you?”

Her face lights up. “Sure.”

Dean sits down on a red velvet seat next to her and feels like a goddamn teenager on a first date. His knees are shaking as he anxiously taps his boots on the sticky movie floor and drums his palms repeatedly on his thighs. Something inside of him urges him to hold her hand and interlace their fingers, or do one of those moves where he yawns and slings his arm around her shoulders.

In fact, he can barely concentrate on the movie until he takes her hand in his. But who cares? He wrote and directed this masterpiece, so it’s not like he’s missing out on anything important. He already knows the plot and every single shot.

Once their fingers touch, his heartbeat accelerates to light speed. She shoots him a look and raises her brow with a teasing smirk. He can catch it from his periphery but doesn’t dare to look straight at her. Instead, he awkwardly clears his throat and glues his green eyes stubbornly to the silver screen, pretending it’s not a big deal.

When did holding hands become such a fucking thrill? He’s not goddamn sixteen anymore, for crying out loud.

Y/N takes note of his uncomfortableness and focuses back on the movie but still gives his hand a small squeeze, telling him everything is all right. They remain exactly like this till the end credits roll across the screen.

And then, to his greatest surprise, there are cheers and claps from everyone in the theater. Y/N lets go of his hand to clap as well and bites her lip to hide a smile once she sees him blush furiously at the attention and admiration.

The group of teenagers then approaches him and stops by his row as a young, scrawny boy speaks up, “You’re a genius, Mr. Winchester.”

Mister?! How old do they think he is? Well, granted, he probably shot that movie before those kids were even born. Talk about feeling old.

“Your disorientation factor is truly masterful,” the boy continues. “Claire told us we’d love it.”

His brow shoots up in surprise. “Claire? How do you know my kid?”

“Oh, we’re all in AV club together,” the boy replies and gestures to his peers before they filter out of the theater.

“Huh.” Dean is gobsmacked, truly. For one, he didn’t even know Claire was in AV club. And secondly, he’s goddamn proud of her. Who knew the kid would take after her old man?

“See?” Y/N pokes his arm with her elbow, a big grin adorning her face. “You have a whole fan club of teenagers who adore your movie that they are, for sure, too young to see.”

Dean chuckles softly and wishes he could hide his reddening cheeks from her.

“I liked your movie, too,” she says then and watches his reaction closely.

“Oh, c’mon,” Dean tries to brush her off. She’s probably just saying it to appeal to his ego. He knows she’s not the biggest fan of his work. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Y/N says enthusiastically. “Those kids were right. It was disorienting. You were doing your own thing.” But then she catches her mistake and corrects herself, “Are. Sorry! You still are doing–”

Dean, however, shakes his head at her correction. “Nope, you’re right,” he admits and scoffs. “That was me twenty years ago. My hands all over everything like the biggest control freak, driving everybody nuts. I mean, my operator actually became so frustrated with me that he quit the first day and threw his camera at me. I had to shoot the rest of it myself.”

“You shot that?” Y/N’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Wow.”

“Yeah, I did.” Dean sighs and pensively scratches his beard. Something’s been bothering him for a while now, and talking to Y/N usually helps him sort through his jumbled thoughts. After all, she’s his Alma. “You know, I’m accustomed to a certain level of failure. When a project usually goes wrong, I know exactly what happened. It’s just-… with our show… I have no idea what went wrong there. I don’t know why they shit-canned us. Not a fucking clue. None. It’s driving me insane.”

Y/N grows quiet next to him and fumbles with her fingers. She swallows deeply before she opens her mouth. “I have an idea. I know why,” she confesses.

The director’s brow furrows. As he looks at her, he recognizes her nervousness. It causes him to worry. “What d’you mean?”

“Richard Roman, the head of the network? He-, uhm, he invited me to dinner… at his hotel room,” Y/N begins, the uncomfortableness growing inside of her and expanding in her chest.

Dean, on the other hand, stays perfectly still and quiet. The calm before the storm, so to speak. Because as soon as she said those words, he could feel his heart stop and drop several feet into the depths of hell. There, he’s sure he’ll find some kind of weapon he can use to kill that motherfucker before he comes back topside. The director knows how that story ends before she has even finished it, and it makes him want to puke his guts out and burn this godforsaken city down.

“He came on to me. As in… he wanted to have sex with me,” Y/N continues and clarifies in case he didn’t catch on. She’s not entirely sure the director is getting the message since he hasn’t said a word yet. “But I left before anything could happen. Ran away, actually. Bolted right outta there.” Her little chuckle at the end is a futile attempt to lighten the mood.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Dean’s furious, his nostrils flaring. He wants to punch and kill someone, but most of all Dickhead Roman himself.

“No, I’m not,” Y/N replies meekly. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Bewildered, he frowns. “Mad?” That’s when he notices that she suddenly seems scared. Is she frightened… of him?!

“Maybe I can still fix it. Just call him and ask him if I can come by his office,” Y/N suggests, her voice laced with desperation. But not the good kind that usually turns him on. This time it’s just plain sad.

“To do what exactly?” Dean prompts grimly, already knowing her intentions. Over his dead body is she doing that!

“Well–”

“Fuck no!” Dean doesn’t even allow her to finish her sentence. In fact, he doesn’t want to hear it at all, or he might have to scratch his ears out afterward. God, he doesn’t even want to think about it. “You’re not fucking doing anything, alright?”

“But–”

“That stupid fucking son of a bitch,” Dean huffs and shakes his head. “What a goddamn prick!”

“So you’re not mad?” Y/N checks insecurely.

For a moment, Dean stops his rage to look at her, his heart almost breaking as he does. She deserves so much better in this life than all the shit she’s getting. How the fuck is any of this fair?

“At Dick cocksucking Roman, yeah. But not at you. Never at you, okay?” he emphasizes and sees her nod in relief. His heart shatters anew. How could she even think for a second he’d hold some sleazebag’s actions against her? But then his suspicions grow as he puzzles the pieces together. “When the fuck did this happen?”

“Uh, a little over a week ago,” Y/N answers quietly. “The night before they moved us to the nighttime slot.”

“That’s when you came to my office, and we–” Dean doesn’t finish his train of thought and cards a hand through his messy hair. Now, it makes sense. Her strange behavior, the inexplicable need for punishment, and everything in between.

‘You’re the best guy I know,’ he remembers her words. ‘I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more.’

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Was that why you were avoiding me?”

A part of him feels unbelievably relieved. It’s not him but literally someone else’s fault. For once, he’s done nothing wrong. For once, he hasn’t ruined everything. But another part of him, the bigger one, just wants to rip Dickbag Roman’s throat out with his goddamn teeth. What a pathetic fucking loser…

Dean wishes he could beat the guy black and blue and leave him bleeding on the highway till a truck runs over him. He wishes he could cut off that guy’s dick and put it through a meat grinder. His mind can’t stop imagining the most gruesome ways to make that asshat suffer and die. In fact, he wishes Manson was still roaming Spawn Ranch and would send his Family over to that Roman’s mansion and leave Sharon Tate the fuck alone.

“I’m sorry. I guess I was scared you’d react like Jo.” Y/N gulps and averts her eyes to her trembling hands in her lap.

His brow knits, Donna’s warning words echoing through his mind. “Jo knows? What did she say?” But before Y/N can answer him, the director stops her again. “No, wait… I can take a fucking guess,” he mutters bitterly. The blonde bimbo probably told her to blow the guy in his goddamn office. Typical…

“Well, she’s not entirely wrong, you know,” Y/N mumbles and bites down on her lip without looking at him.

“What d’you mean?”

“All I’m good for is a fuck,” she says with a wry smile and wipes away a small tear. Dean’s heart twinges and hurts for her, but that pain is nothing compared to the cool blade of a knife he feels soon instead. “I mean, you of all people know that…”

Dean’s quiet for a moment and bites his nails as he ponders. His mind is a maze, and he knows he has to pick and choose his words carefully in order to get out of it.

“No, I actually don’t know that,” he states and catches her attention.

He tries his best not to sound angry or offended, even though he is a little. Hasn’t he been building her confidence for weeks now? Hasn’t he been instilling in her that she’s his favorite – and not just among the cast but on this planet in general? He figured she knew how much she truly means to him, but maybe he hasn’t been clear enough yet. He knows Y/N’s self-worth issues could fill every damn swimming pool in California, so maybe he shouldn’t expect a miracle so soon.

Mostly, he’s angry at Dicksuck Roman and Barbie for ruining all his hard work with one asshole move and a few bitchy words.

Dean wets his lips and lets out a sharp exhale through his nose before he looks at her. “Y/N, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my entire life. You’re never just a quickie in the office to me. Do you understand that?”

She nods in slow reluctance. “I think so.”

“Good,” he says sternly. “Now believe it ‘cause it’s true.”

The green-eyed director cups her cheeks and pulls her to his lips, tongue meeting tongue in a searing kiss. The old seats creak when their weight shifts, Y/N leaning into his touch as she wrings for oxygen with heavy breaths. And where words fail, he tries his best to show her how he feels through his actions.

“Sorry,” Dean apologizes cheekily once he lets her get some air. “Couldn’t hold myself back any longer. That’s okay, right? We’re still on?”

Suddenly, it dawns on him that she might’ve still changed her mind about him. Has he just sexually harassed a woman right after she told him how she’s been sexually harassed by a superior? Jesus fucking Christ, he’s goddamn tone deaf, isn’t he?

To his luck, though, Y/N finds his stupidity amusing and giggles, placing another sweet kiss on his plump lips as she shakes her head. “We’re still on, boss,” she assures him and hears him heave a big sigh of relief.

“Awesome.” He grins from ear to ear and brushes a strand of rogue hair out of her face. “Are you and Jo okay? ‘Cause if you’re not, you gotta tell me. You wanna postpone the match?”

Now that Dean knows there’s no chance in hell the network’s going to let the show survive, he doesn’t even give a shit if the girls resort to doing the chicken dance in the ring or taking a dump on stage. No one truly gives a fuck anymore, least of all him. He never has.

The only thing he cares about is sitting right next to him.

Y/N, however, vehemently shakes her head. “No, we’re fine. I wanna fight. ‘Sides, I’m supposed to win this match, and I can’t wait to kick Jo’s bitchy ass.” She grins broadly.

“That’s my bad girl.” Dean smirks and pecks her lips. “You’re gonna stay over at my place tonight? Play a little Cold War in my bedroom?”

“Only if I can do my accent,” Y/N says, beaming.

The director playfully rolls his green eyes, even though he’s direly been waiting for that sort of role play. “Oh, you’ve got yourself a deal, Natasha.”

22. Girls, Girls, Girls

Hope you enjoyed this one! We came back with a literal bang 😂 Next up we deal with more drama and a hospital stay 👀

Don't forget I re-did the tag lists after the break, so pick your new place (everything, specific character, or series) and put your username in there ❤️

TAGS:

Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28 @mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33

Old Series Tags (only for this part): @jessjad​​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​​ @smellingofpoetry​​ @justrealizedimmascifygurl​​​​ @leigh70​​ @4getfulimaginator2022​​ @yeahmynameiscool06​​ @luci-wiggles​​​ @darkened-writer​ @mimaria420​​ @samanddeansannoyingsis​​ @sarasolros​​

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

Lucas Jacket ($246) & Brady Jeans ($216) in Heritage Wash from Amanda Uprichard with the Caty Ankle Boot in Black Snake from Matisse ($205)

[pretty-little-whorror]

kinktober - public space

ash williams x reader

wc: 3190

a/n: for the four evil dead enjoyers on this site. i promise if i was less employed i would post daily for this like the lord intended.

tags: semi-public sex, fem reader, fingering, p in v sex, safe/protected sex, work sex, fucking your coworkers, ash williams, ash williams and his cheesy ass one liners, and his cheesy ass nicknames, that’s it maybe but i’m tired of looking at this, also not like 100% proofread, like 83%

Ash Williams had been put against his fair share of unpleasantries. Having to kill his sister, dismember his girlfriend, get sent back in time and go toe to toe against evil incarnate. Throughout all that, he still stands by that working retail can easily be just as bad - if not worse - than all that. Ash had been at S-Mart longer than he had ever intended and dealt with more customer bullshit than one could imagine. However, he did manage to enjoy his time there in his own Ash-y way while he was there, meaning knocking boots with any coworker that he could talk his way into the pants of.

With most it was a one and done situation. Most employees stay new before they eventually leave. To Ash, this was the perfect situation - left no time for awkward talking after he had gotten done what he needed. His most recent example had been with Jenny from Arts and Crafts. A red headed hardbody that had stayed at S-Mart maybe three months. As her last two weeks wrapped up, yours began.

The Arts and Crafts department was mostly women, so word about who exactly Ash Williams was got around to you quick. Most of the talk was about his serial womanizing, however a few strange rumours of beheadings and murder were weaved in and out during a handful of gossip sessions between you and your colleagues. You chalked them up to a bad game of telephone given how out of pocket they seemed.

Eventually, you had your first run-in with Ash, and it went as expected. You managed to keep a professional smile and move on after each encounter, however that was not without acknowledging that you couldn’t blame any of the other girls for falling for his routine. He was far from unattractive and his charming demeanor did nothing to repel you. Regardless, you were determined to hold your own.

Your resistance had come as a surprise to Ash, who believes he’s God’s gift to women. However he was never one to back down from a challenge. The harder the hunt the bigger the trophy. Months of passive aggressive flirting and innuendoed bickering had only made him more determined. He had used whatever brain he had to find different ways to push your buttons without an immediate trip to HR. It would usually result with you giving him a playful eye roll before you continued back to whatever you had been doing. Today was no different of an example, but as you found yourself pinned up against a wall in the stock room, whatever exactly had finally gotten you where he wanted had slipped your mind.

This close, Ash’s cheap aftershave was almost intoxicating compared to its normal warning of obnoxious behavior to come. As your tongues pushed against one another, you could taste remnants of the mint gum he had just spit out.

His left hand made quick work to take off the ill fitting uniform as his metal one held you up against the wall. Your fingers made quick work of his own blue work shirt, pushing the fabric off his shoulders, leaving him in a white undershirt.

“Someone’s a little anxious, huh?” He words teased into your ear as his calloused hand snaked its up your back to unclasp your bra.

“If that’s such a problem, I’m more than okay to stop” Your hands dropped from his shoulders as you spoke, looking up at him. He moved his hand back up and grabbed your chin with a chuckle.

“Oh baby, I’ve got you just where I want.” His hot breath tickled against the side of your neck. “I’d be an idiot to let you get away now.” He brought your face up to his with a rough kiss, his hand dropping from your face to finish discarding your bra. He pushed his tongue into your mouth with a groan as he fondled your breast. His thumb rolling gently over your hardened nipple. You sighed into his kiss as he continued to play with your tit. He broke the kiss to look down at your chest, a string of saliva still connecting your mouth the his.


“Fuck sugar, you’ve got the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen.” He continued his ministrations as he used his other arm to raise you up, your legs now straddling his waist opposed to your hips. He quickly moved his face down to your chest, peppering nips over your other breast as his hand continued to roughly knead the other.

“Now we can’t let her sister have all the fun” He winked up at you before latching his mouth onto your nipple. You gasped at the action, the sensation of one hand rolling the hardened bud between his fingers and his mouth sucking and biting on the other causing your eyes to shut.

Ash reveled in your reaction, you could feel him chuckle against your skin as he continued. Your hand went to his head, fingers weaving through his black hair. He gave your tit one final, playful bite before his mouth went back to yours. His hand snaked down to your backside, giving your ass a quick squeeze before he set you down, his lips never leaving yours.

He made quick work of his belt, tossing it to the floor as he finished shrugging off his shirt. As soon as you heard the cloth hit the floor, his hands were on you again, discarding your pants into the growing pile of garments to the side of you. In a moment, he had you up again, straddling his waist. His mouth quickly found its way to your neck, nipping and sucking dark spots into your flesh. You sighed and lolled your head to the side, allowing him further access.

“Baby…” He whispered, his hot breath centimeters away from your ear. “Can you grab my wallet, hm?”

You giggled at the request and rolled your eyes. Understanding the request your arm snaked around to his back, snatching the wallet from his back pocket.

“Well forgive me for bothering princess,” he teased. “My hands are otherwise occupied”

“Hand” you corrected with a playful grin. In response, you felt his metal appendage pinch your ass. You gasped and slapped his arm as his mouth went back to your neck.

“That hurt, jackass!” You scolded as you felt his mouth curl into a smile against your skin.

“Well,” He raised his face back up to yours. He quickly closed the distance between you and brought your lips together. You felt his left hand sneak under the hem of your panties, slowly sneaking up to your core. “If that’s such a problem…”

You sighed as his fingers ghosted over your entrance, picking up your slick on his fingertips, at the same time, his thumb pressed against your swollen clit.

“…I’m more than okay to stop.” He pushed his index finger into your cunt as he repeated your earlier threat. You let out a breathy moan as he pushed his finger in to the knuckle.

“But I’m pretty sure you don’t want that” His voice was low in your ear. Your eyes shut as his middle finger joined the other.

“Fuck…” You murmured as his fingers worked to stretch you out.

“Shit, baby…” He breathed out as he began to curl his fingers against your walls, his thumb beginning to work small circles on your clit. “You’re so fucking wet for me, aren’t ya”

You bit your lip and nodded, your breath getting caught in your throat. Ash chuckled and shook his head.

“I think I want you to say it, baby” His mouth returned to your neck as the pace of his fingers became rougher. You didn’t speak, groaning in response instead, partially annoyed but mostly too lost in the feeling of his fingers inside you to care. You felt him like up a third finger outside your entrance and you arched your back towards him out of instinct.

“You gotta say it first, sugar, gotta tell me whose got you all hot and bothered”

You whined and opened your eyes, pleading up at him. “You, Ash. You….please” you rutted yourself against his hand as you spoke. He looked down at you with lust blown eyes.

“Good girl,” He whispered into your ear as his pushed in a third digit. You moaned at the feeling, his fingers immediately working on curling against that one, perfect spot and working with the pressured movements of his thumb against your clit. You felt the familiar building pressure in your belly as his hand worked to bring you to your climax.

“Now, how about you finish fetching that love glove out, hm?” You sighed. Your shaky hand meeting your other that held his wallet. You looked down, fingering through cards and cash until you pulled out the golden foil. You quickly dropped the leather wallet to the ground to join the other discarded garments.

“Ash…” You let out a whine as he withdrew his fingers to grab the condom. You looked up at him and pouted. He chuckled, glowing in the fact he’s taken your bratty demeanor away and replaced it with desperate begging.

“Oh, just give me a minute, doll face.” He winked as he undid his fly, pulling his pants down enough to allow his hardened dick out of its confines. You were, well you didn’t want to say impressed, but surprised he had the anatomy to match his attitude. You must have been taking a moment too long to look as Ash whistled to get you attention.

“My eyes are up here, sugar pot.” You rolled your own as he went to get the condom out of its wrapper. Before he would tear the foil, you snatched it out of his hand. Deciding to make a show of it, you tore the gold wrapper with you teeth while another hand began to stroke his member. Rolling the leaking beads of precum down his shaft with feathered strokes. You pulled the condom from the wrapper entirely and slowly rolled it down his cock.

“Atta girl,” Ash’s head tilted back with a sigh, he once again brought your lips down to his for a sloppy kiss. You gave him a few more lazy strokes before he adjusted how he held you against the wall in order to line himself up with your entrance. You breathe out a sigh l as the fat bulge of his head finds your swollen, wet hole. Out of instinct, arch into him, desperate him to satisfy your clenching body.

His lips reunite with the side of neck with an amused chuckle. “You’re so needy, hm?” He teased between peppered kissed towards the crook of your neck, teasingly pushing himself against your entrance.

His metal hand gripped your hips firmly as he pushed you down onto his achingly hard cock. Your eyes slammed shut with a carnal moan as he fully sheathed himself inside of you.

“You stretch so good for me, baby” He groans as he revels in the feeling of your sex enveloping his, your soft walls like a perfect fitting glove. You roll your hips against his, drunk on the euphoria of him buried inside to the hilt.

“Fuck, Ash-“ Your head falls back, hitting the wall behind you with a thud. He drags his cock from inside you before coaxing himself back in. You whine, working your best to sink as far down as possible in tandem with his movements.

His pace starts sultry; fucking you deeply and purposefully, his thumb resting on top of your thigh as he brought you down on him until you could feel his pubes tickle against your lower belly.

Your hands found their place, one flush against his chest and the other grabbing into his shoulder; promising crescent shaped bruises to form in the following hours from where your nails dug into his flesh.

He adjusts his hold on your hips as he picks up his pace, bouncing you on his cock. “Can’t believe I can finally fuck you.” He purred in your ear, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. His left hand moves between you, his thumb dancing over your clit andhis fingers circling where he pushed into you, getting it coated with the cocktail of your wetness and his precum that dripped out of you.

His hand then raised to the underside of your chin; his thumb lifting your head as his fingers prodded against your languidly parted lips. You further opened your mouth, allowing for the gentle intrusion. Your tongue swirled around the digits as you looked up through hooded lashes into his eyes. Making a show of cleaning off his calloused fingers. If Ash had an ounce less of self control he could have finished then and there.

He instead chuckled, his stare fixated on your mouth as you sucked his fingers. “Look at you, getting all filthy for me , hm?” His pace transformed into rough and desperate thrusts, his swollen head kissing your cervix. He withdrew his fingers from your mouth, his hand meeting his other at your hips, changing the angle he pounded into you just enough for him to be fucking directly into your sweet spot. An aching moan escaped your mouth at the change; allowing anyone who was close enough an exact idea of the wanton situation you were in.

“You sound so fucking hot for me baby, but the last thing I want right now is for someone to take this pussy away from me.” Normally, your response would be to chide him for pointing out the obvious accompanied by an eye roll. However, you just bit down on your reddened bottom lip and nodded, arching down on him further, desperate for him to fuck an orgasm out of you.

Ash's thrusts became rough and desperate, his length hitting your cervix with each powerful stroke. The change in angle caused an electric surge of pleasure to shoot through your body, your stifled moans threatening an exposing volume.

His rough and quickened pace only added fuel to the fire, you could feel the intensity building, your body desperately responding to his every movement in an attempt to bring your orgasm on quicker.

You clenched around him, your walls pulsating with need as you arched your back, meeting his thrusts with fervor. The overwhelming sensations coursing through you pushed you closer to the edge.

With each unrestrained thrust, you felt the pleasure intensify, the tension coiling within you like a tightly wound spring. Your moans threatened to grow louder as you did your best to stay quiet-biting down on your lower lip hard enough to draw blood as your head lolled aside, allowing him access to return his mouth to your neck. He callously nipped and sucked at the reddened skin as your nails dug into his skin as you desperately sought release.

As the pleasure reached its peak, you let out a guttural cry, your body convulsing in the throes of your orgasm. Waves of ecstasy washed crassly over you, leaving you breathless and completely consumed by the sensation.

Ash continued to pound into you, fucking you through as you were thrown into rapture. He felt the familiar burning of his own orgasm approaching. His final thrusts were rough and desperate as he finally came, burying himself deep inside you.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, his lips trailed back to yours, taking one last opportunity to taste you.

“You think you’re okay to stand, sweet cheeks?” He asked, his voice soft as his hand trailed down to your ass, gently kneading the soft flesh as he spoke. With a nodded response from you, he slowly pulled out from you. Out of instinct, you whined at the sudden empty feeling, still drunk on the sensation of his cock stuffed into you. He chuckled at your mewl.

“Don’t worry sugar, as soon as I can fuck that tight pretty pussy of yours again, I will. That’s an Ash Williams guarantee. ” He patted your ass and you unwrapped your legs from his waist, placing a foot on the cool ground. You almost fell to the floor as you attempted to put your weight on it. Ash’s metal hand still on your waist, he was able to keep you from falling completely. He smiled, relishing the fact he had fucked you good enough you couldn’t walk.

Knowing exactly what had made his lips curl into such a shit-eating grin, you flicked your eyes up.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” You bent down to pick up your long discarded clothes, the cool metal of his hand still on your waist. “They just fell asleep is all.”

“Whatever you say, baby” He winked, turning his attention to disposing of the used rubber, rolling it off his softened cock; careful not to make a mess. He found some garbage to toss it in and pulled his pants back up over his crotch. You cringed at the thought of whoever had to take out that trash later tonight.

“What time are you out tonight?”

The question came as a surprise to you. You raised a brow as you worked to put your pants back on.

“Six…” You responded, unsure of the intent of his question. He wasn’t gonna wine and dine you - or whatever the Ash equivalent is that was - certainly. You had never heard any report of him attempting anything along the lines of that with anyone before. “What time is it anyway?”

He turned his wrist over, looking at the watch face. “Ten after.”

“Oh,” You raised your brows, surprised you had been…occupied, long enough to round out your shift.

“You?”

“I’m out at eight.”

“Oh, well okay”

The dialogue was shallow as you finished reassembling your work clothes.

You turned to him; “Why..?”

Ash looked at you with a cheeky grin, raising his eyes from his watch just enough to look up and meet your eyes.

"We should grab some drinks after work, have a bit of fun. I'll buy, I'm feeling generous tonight."

“And here I’ve been told chivalry is dead” Your put your shirt back over your head in time with the sarcastic response.

"I promise you, my intentions are anything but chivalrous when I tell you I'll be paying." He said with a grin and tacky wink. You decided to roll your eyes playfully opposed to wasting your words.

"I can take that as a maybe?" Ash asked. "Don't disappoint me, darlin'."

“Yeah yeah fine, whatever. Where?” You folded your arms across your chest, waiting for his reply.

"The Elk, we can sit at the bar, talk all flirty like." Ash said suggestively. "Nothing better than a bottle of whiskey on the table and a pretty lady beside it."

“Just pick me up after your shift, yeah?”

"After my shift," He confirmed with a smirk. "But just so I know, that's a yes then?"

“Deduce that one yourself, jackass.” You walked away with a smirk, not sure if volunteering more of your time with Ash would pan out in your favor.

[megangovier]

Birthday Surprise

Stripper!Joel x Shy! femReader

Summary: You're 24 years old today, your friends hired a male stripper.

Warning: 18+ only // smut // shyness // seductive moves // spicy🌶️// mdni // slightly gets unprofessional.

Song: Do It For Me - Rosenfeld

To you being 24 wasn't a big deal, you wanted to just celebrate with a book in hand and drink of red in the other. All cozied up in blankets watching your favourite childhood films. But your girlfriend's had a different idea, they wanted to surprise you so they did by hiring a male dancer/stripper. You was known to be real shy around guys, especially the ones with attractive accents and are from Texas. The cowboys always made you feel something, and their voices dripped like glowing honey.

Today was your birthday, you just wanted to laze around all day doing what you wanted to do, but your girlfriend's decided to take you shopping and doll you up for tonight, you had no idea where you were going later but it was a surprise. So you showerd, put a sundress on with a cardigan and black boots. Heading towards the shopping mall where they said they'll be to meet you, you saw them waving at you by the billboard. Walking into the clothes shop, they started to grab a few outfits that would look stunning on you.

Checking yourself into the fitting rooms to try each clothing on, that was given by your girlfriends you smiled at the one with the flannel shirt, white top, black leather jeans and boots. Coming out behind the curtain, they wolf whistled and clapped "girll, you look amazing!" They would say, making cheeks flush with shyness. They adored you so much "I'm definitely wearing this, to wherever you're taking me tonight" the three women grinned at eachother.

21:00..

It's time to put on a brave face, still guessing where they're taking you. All four of you are in the car, listening to favourites from Spotify. It was only a few miles til you get there, hands clammy and nerves skyrocketing. In your mind you were still wondering where you were going but they shook their heads and said "wait honey, we're almost there" or "it's a surprise, organised by us three, your best friends since childhood". You hated surprises, the earliest memory was from childhood, it was your birthday and your dad had chased you around the garden with a snake, so you weren't a fan of surprises.

21:30..

You've finally arrived, looking glamourous in the outfit you had brought earlier that morning, hair is wavy like the ocean. Light makeup and lipgloss. Wearing a cowboy hat, playing the part for the surprise. All four headed inside, the disco lights were on, songs in the background and a chair in the middle of the stage. Confused, thinking to yourself "why is there a chair in the middle off the stage?" The three friends, grabbed the drinks from the bar and poured into their glasses.

The lights lowered and change of music played in the background, lights on stage appeared and so did a Texan man wearing blue jeans, cowboy hat and a grin on his face. Heat had ran up your neck and cheeks tomato red, eyes looking at the ceiling or past the door opposite you, if you could just sneak away into the toilets and out the window, you felt so far away from home, it felt like a tight shell was going to crack around you.

A poke was felt on your shoulder, looking away and onto the friend next to you "he's asking for you" eyes on the man, he had a warm smile on his face, walking up the steps your hands in his, he sat you down. His feet parted yours from eachother and grabbed your hair back in a fistful and ran his warm tounge up your neck, tasting the sweet vanilla scent of your fragrance. One of your songs came on, do it for me by rosenfeld.

"Show me how Show me how you like it done You're all mine I'll make you feel like you're the one"

Joel had lifted you off the chair, your legs wrapped around his waist. Laying you on the floor gently, with his hand behind your head keeping it safe, he had crawled ontop of you with his legs under yours flipping you over onto your stomach, a shocked Pikachu face fell onto your friends faces.

"Take off your clothes Give me your trust Look me in the eyes and confess your lust Get on your knees Beg me to stop"

Joel had grabbed your hips from behind and started to grind against you, his lips against your ear "you're doing so well, i hope you're enjoying this sweetheart, happy surprise birthday". Giggles erupted from the three women, heart pounded out your chest.

"I promise I'll love you if you do it So do it for me"

Joel flipped you on your back and forced your legs opened with his thigh between them, looking at your blushed face and dazed eyes he kissed up your neck, inhaling the scent of your hair. The sweet smell was making him needy, but had to stay professional for the birthday girl right. But it doesn't mean you both couldn't have fun. Lifting you back up, sitting down with you on his lap your hands on his shoulders, with you slowly grinding on his growing erection.

"Give me your hand I'll show you things you've never done Hold my head I'll make you feel like never before"

Joel's the one now, who had his hair pulled back and a warm tongue ran up his neck, moans left his throat. He was enjoying this as much as you was, something started to drip down your leg, a wet spot formed onto his jeans.

Take off your clothes Give me your trust Look me in the eyes and confess your lust Get on your knees Beg me to stop

I promise I'll love you if you do it So do it for me

Say my name All I wanna do is hear you scream in pain Say my name

I promise I'll love you if you do it So do it for me (So do it for me) (So do it for me)

@sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts @strang3lov3 @rositaa01xxr

[punkshort]

i had an idea to add to the ‘str’ extras post. i came across an insta account that details “things ____ loves/hates” (i will link an example, credit to them for the idea), thought it could be an interesting, insightful look into sheriff!joel, of things you haven’t touched on but that makes up the wonderful man we have grown to love!

no rush if you decide to do it just a fun lil thing i thought of <3

https://www.instagram.com/p/C3BLN86OquE/?igsh=MWF0aG0ydzA4c3BnZg==

I like this idea! And I am very much looking for a distraction so I decided to have a little fun with it and make a photo collage to go along with my answers:

Likes:

Classic romance novels. I think he likes to keep it a secret but he has a soft spot for the classics (I thought wuthering heights was kind of apt... two people unable to be together, etc...)

Coffee. It's an obvious one, but maybe not so obvious is he prefers to share coffee with someone else. That's why he always found himself going to the diner, even before reader came on the scene. He just likes to be around others, even if it is his annoying younger brother.

Texas - duh. Sheriff Joel couldn't imagine living anywhere else, especially up north. He is a southern boy through and through.

Lazy mornings. Those are rare for him. Sarah tends to have a busy schedule, even on the weekends, so when he gets the chance to sleep in a little or just lounge around before having to get up, he really enjoys that (especially if reader is there, although he hasn't been able to have many mornings with her... yet 👀). To go along with this, he also really likes kissing. Just making out with no goal in mind. Slow, lazy licks and soft little noises under a warm blanket on a Sunday morning with nowhere to be? Perfection.

Old movies. Especially at the drive in. Something about the nostalgia of it really makes him happy. And that romantic side of him can't help himself. It's usually his go-to first date idea.

Football. As Sarah mentioned once before, he really enjoys American football and annoys her with it. Sarah really looks forward to the spring and summer because there's no football on TV and she doesn't have to listen to him yelling in the living room every ten minutes.

His favorite pair of jeans. He's had them for years, the knees are getting worn out but he loves them and won't part with them.

Sarah - obviously. Even though she keeps him on his toes and super busy all the time, he would drop anything for her. He is always struggling to balance work and home and he tends to stretch himself too thin and not take enough time for himself, but he tries to make every single soccer game and school event because he loves seeing how talented Sarah is.

Hiking, specifically with Sarah. It's something they like to do in the summer, at least one weekend a month. Occasionally he can convince her to camp out overnight, but she hates sleeping in a tent so it's a hard sell.

Dislikes:

People who don't use their seatbelts. It's so easy. Just do it. He's seen too many accidents in his line of work and he hates when people don't use them.

Snakes. Sarah never lets him forget about the time when he was nine years old and he went to put on his boot to go play outside and was surprised to find a snake sleeping inside. To this day, he can't put his shoes on without checking them first.

Oysters. It's a texture thing, he thinks they're gross. He doesn't care they are an aphrodisiac, he doesn't need it 😉

Line dancing. Even though he's from Texas, it makes him cringe every time he sees people doing it.

Snow/being cold. He prefers the heat. It's what he's used to and he doesn't like shoveling snow on the rare occasion Texas gets any accumulation.

Lip Gloss. He likes kissing. A lot. And he thinks lip gloss is too sticky.

Wool Sweaters. Because he runs hot as it is and wool just makes it worse. Plus, it's itchy.

People who talk about themselves too much. Especially women he's been on dates with. He likes learning about other people, but when it becomes apparent they have no interest in learning about him, it's a turn off.

Golf. Because all my Joels hate golf. For no particular reason at all.

Thank you so much for this ask! It was a lot of fun putting together.

[madaboutmunson]

Once Eddie returns, helps his friends save the world, he graduates and focuses on his dream, playing The Garden.

Corroded Coffin do indeed play MSG and then some, they become the biggest band on the planet, and they are raking it in.

They are making so much money the record company is throwing anything they want their way, anything they could dream of, and each member of the band takes advantage of that fact, making sure to avoid extreme excess, on the sage advice of other rockstars they meet on their way up, making sure to invest, and that their families are set for life.

But there are indulgences, fast cars, fancy hotels, big palatial homes, being surrounded by the most beautiful and talented, epic custom made gaming tables (because lets face it, they are still nerds) but Eddie shies away from a lot of that, he has this own indulgence. Theatrics.

The lights of the stage show had to be the latest technology, lasers, pyros so big and loud that had every concert comes with a warning on the posters, a mascot of this weird looking bat snake thing that Eddie had drawn up, and then the props.

Parts of the stage that "fell apart" making the crowds gasp in horror as a band member takes a hit, only to emerge completely unscathed. Harnesses so he could play flying through the air. A giant cannon to straddle and duck walk along over the crowd. Flame throwers that send a heat wave across the stadiums they play. His personal favourite was the deconstructable guitar.

Specially designed to be able to break apart and to be put back together for the next night, it was made for the heaviest song corroded Coffin had written to date. It was only ever used for that one song and with the magic of effects pedals and the nature of the song, it didn't have to sound particularly great.

At the culmination of this song an already shirtless Eddie would swing the guitar around, smash it on the floor behind him and then onto the floor in front of him, booting the now heavily dented body into the ground so he could rip the neck out of it, holding it aloft, strings snapping off, popping the blood capsules in his mouth, and letting them flow out of his mouth and down his chin and throat, with a huge grin on his face, before blowing a kiss into the crowd.

It seems like just another theatrical bit from Eddie Munson, a fan favourite to imitate or use as part of their Halloween costume. Eddie Munson wasn't the first rockstar to smash a guitar on stage and he wouldn't be the last, but what he was acting out was shrouded in mystery, as the song itself gave away nothing with its absence of lyrics.

When questioned in interviews Eddie said the same thing, "If I told you, I would have to kill you" then he would laugh heartily. An added clue if he was on TV, he'd wink directly at the camera and say, "Isn't that right, big boy?".

Thats all the fanbase has to go on, until a concert video is released. At the end of the tape past the credits, is a hidden extra.

Spliced together, the cameras are filming two views of this particular part of the show. One is stage focused from the crowd's view and the other is also pointing out at the stage but from the wings, out of sight. In which leans some bespectacled, unassuming, yuppie-looking, type of guy, complaining, with his arms folded watching the show.

He's frowning, shaking his head in an alarm, as one hand comes out to gesture at Eddie on stage "Ah no! That is not what happened..." Then turning to behind the camera, worry etched on his face and in his tone, "I didn't look that ridiculous? Did I?" Only to be met with the raucous laughter of two unseen women.

How the song in question was written

The last time Corroded Coffin ever play this song

AO3 Link

[something-tofightfor]

Fool's Gold 2: The Wonder in the Wait

Pairing: Pirate Oberyn Martell x Female Reader (with a twist)

Rating: M for now - but that will change later.

Word Count: 6,255

Summary: The longer you're on the ship, the more you learn about the man who rescued you - and the people you're surrounded by.

Some things make sense. Others make none. As more time passes, the line between the two blurs. Your growing comfort on the open sea and your blooming attraction to Daavos doesn't help anything.

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone that read the first two parts of this. I love this little world I'm building, and it's been a lot of fun to tweak Daavos' personality a little without making him unrecognizable.

If you want to talk about this story (or any of my others) please feel free to pop into my inbox or DMs!

Chapter title comes from "Valkyrie" by Caligula's Horse.

Fool's Gold Masterlist

You paused for long moments at the top of the stairs, just looking at what was in front of you. 

You’d expected a ship that was in less than perfect condition, something that might have needed serious repairs or polishing due to the time it spent on the sea and the nature of piracy. 

Instead, you saw grandeur everywhere you looked - gleaming bronze rails, polished carvings on the outer walls of the main cabin, and level decking with evenly cut boards beneath your feet. The design of the ship was sleek, and when you looked up at the sails, you had to blink at how large they were - and at the fact that they weren’t patched or mended. 

Instead, they were pristine and blood red, and though they weren’t fully extended, they were still puffy with the breeze. “We don’t sail at full speed overnight.” Daavos reached for you again, taking your elbow. “We’ll lower them again at first light.” You walked slowly with him across the deck, eyes scanning your surroundings. “My crew are very good at what they do.”

“Your ship is beautiful.” He held your hand as you took a few steps upward onto the deck at the bow, nodding politely at a young man that hurried by and briefly ducked his head as he greeted the two of you. “What is she called?”

He stopped beside you, letting go of your hand and then leaning forward to rest his elbows atop one of the railings. Daavos was quiet, and you took a few seconds to look at him, watching as the sea breeze ruffled the curls on his head. His profile was stunning - a proud, sloped nose, full lips that seemed to be set into a pout whenever he was deep in thought, his neck corded with muscle, but still slender. 

He was handsome, and you had the feeling that whenever the ship was docked, the women in whatever port they chose were falling over themselves just for the chance to interact with him. Unless he has a wife. He said there were women on board, but if she were here, he wouldn’t have put me in their room. You glanced down at your own hands, thinking. 

You didn’t wear a ring. You didn’t have any jewelry that bore a sigil with your belongings. Aside from the bottom of the dagger’s hilt and the strange stamped piece of metal, you’d seen nothing of yours that could even potentially connect you to a house or a family. 

There was always the possibility that you were poor, and that your husband and family were lowborn, which meant that you had nothing of real value to your name. But the material and style of your dress and boots - and the gold coins in them - told you otherwise. 

“You’re on the Sand Snake.” Daavos finally spoke, turning his head toward you. “The finest ship out of -” The Sand Snake? But … 

“This is Prince Oberyn Martell’s ship.” You straightened up, lips parting as your eyes widened. “It was captured after he -” After he died. Daavos stood up, too, angling his body toward yours, but leaving one elbow resting against the railing. “And that makes you the Blood Adder.” 

You took a step back, fear creeping through you for the first time. I knew there was going to be something to worry about. “So you have heard of me.” His smile was still there, and the amusement in his eyes had grown, but he didn’t move closer or attempt to keep you in place, even as you took another half step back. “This was the Prince’s ship. And I did take over as captain after he was ambushed.” He reached down, untucking the bottom of his shirt from his pants and lifting the material up to show you the skin of his abdomen. Despite your apprehension, you didn’t look away as he displayed a large, healed over scar, prominent on his right side. “But I earned it.” 

You knew the story of Oberyn Martell - and his fate - well. 

You didn’t know how or why you had the information, but as you kept quiet and studied Daavos’ face, you tried to think rationally. Let it come to you. After Oberyn’s victory against Gregor Clegane at Tyrion Lannister’s trial by combat, things had escalated quickly for the Dornishman. 

A week later, Tywin Lannister’s body had been found in one of the Red Keep’s towers. The only thing wrong with his appearance was a trickle of blood from his nose and mouth. The following day, an entire company of the Lannister army that was known to closely protect and serve Tywin was found poisoned, all of the men suffering greatly before their deaths according to eyewitnesses. 

There was no outright reason to suspect Oberyn, as he’d been seen with his lover Ellaria in a variety of places throughout the most likely times that the deaths had taken place. But Cersei hadn’t been willing to accept that she couldn’t pin the blame on him, though she’d let the Dornish Prince finish his stay in King’s Landing without incident. 

Weeks later, long after the Dornish entourage had returned home, she’d sailed a portion of her army down the coast and toward Dorne to intercept the Prince’s ship as he sailed north for Pentos. A clash on the open sea resulted in the death of the Prince, the capture of his ship, and a victory for the Queen Reagent, even if she was the only one keeping score. 

But you hadn’t known that pirates took part in the initial battle, and you told Daavos as much, your voice shaking slightly. “They did.” He scoffed. “Cersei Lannister was not willing to sacrifice more of her army than necessary, so she required the assistance of pirates.” He gestured to the ship, his smile almost spiteful. “I kept the name of the ship because when people see her? They remember what one Dornish man was willing to do for those he loves.” He pointed at himself. “And I am the Blood Adder to carry on in the Red Viper’s memory, because I understand what it means to honor those memories. I understand the importance of family and love and vengeance.”

“Did you kill him for this ship?” You held his gaze, setting your shoulders. “Prince Oberyn?” 

“No.” Daavos narrowed his eyes. “I did not.” He sighed. “She tasked one of her men with carrying that order out.” 

“They never found his body.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek, shaking your head. “I remember … the news came to us, and he was declared dead because …” You tapped your foot on the deck, thinking. “His armor. People that went to King’s Landing said that Prince Oberyn’s armor was displayed there as a trophy. And they wouldn’t have had the armor unless…” 

“So it seems that you do know some things.” Daavos raised a brow, lips parting to reveal his teeth through a smile. “Just not … anything about yourself.” 

“I know that I must have been on a ship.” You sighed, closing your eyes. “And I know that I had some coin, and a dagger that looks at least somewhat valuable.” He nodded, eyeing you. “I know that the style of my dress is … quality.” 

“The stitching is exquisite.” Daavos winked again, nodding back. “We found you by following a trail of debris floating on the water. With the currents, it seems …” He took a breath. “It seems likely that you set sail from Braavos or Gulltown.” 

You considered his words. Either option was possible, based on what you knew about those ports. “Did you find anything from the ship? A name, a logbook, a piece of sail?” 

“We found wreckage. Some was just broken boards and beams, other pieces looked … burned.” He pointed at you with one ringed finger. “Those burns align with your burns; the ones on your back and shoulders? It stormed in the area a few days ago, we were sailing just behind the weather, so it is possible that -”

“Lightning.” You gasped, thinking back to your dream. “I dreamed about a lightning storm and the smell of burning, and -” 

“This is good.” Daavos smiled and then stepped closer, stopping when you held up a hand. “I am sorry.” He held up both hands, closing his eyes. “I understand that now that you know who I am, you are … afraid of me.” Not afraid, just … wary. “You have no reason to believe me, but I mean it when I say that as long as you are on this ship, you are just as important to me as any member of my crew.” He gestured to the space behind you, indicating the rest of the ship. “I mean you no harm, and neither do any of them. I only take lives when it is necessary.” 

“What happened to the Prince’s men?” You turned and looked at the crewmembers as they worked, listening as their laughter carried to you. “Did they just abandon ship when you became captain?”

“His crew was small on that journey, because it was supposed to be a simple one. Some of them were killed attempting to protect their Prince.” He sighed, finally looking away and staring out, over the water. “I gave others the option to disembark when we made land next so that they could make their way home. A few did that. Most chose to stay.” He looked back at you, his smile sad. “It is a big and beautiful world, and they, like myself, did not want to live and die in the same corner of it where they were born.” 

“They should call you Daavos the Merciful, not the Blood Adder.” You rolled your eyes, turning away from him and crossing your arms before you leaned forward, resting them on the railing. “If what you’re saying is true, you’re the least ruthless pirate on the Narrow Sea.” 

He laughed at your words, moving to stand next to you again and mirroring your position, though he kept space between you. “Don’t be fooled. I am ruthless. And I will defend myself and those that I protect. But cruelty for cruelty’s sake serves no purpose in this life. I am no Lannister.” 

The two of you watched the sea in silence for a long while, and you let your thoughts run free. 

His story rang true with what you knew of the Martells and Lannisters. You’d recognized the ship and figured out his name before he’d even confirmed who he was. His crew seemed happy, and the few women you’d seen on the decks and in the hallways below deck looked content and healthy as they moved freely throughout the ship. He’s not keeping them here against their will.  

It still didn’t seem like a typical pirate ship or crew, though you had nothing more than general knowledge to make your assumptions from. But the truth was that no matter how you felt, or what you thought, there was little you could do about your situation. I just need to make it to Tyrosh. That gives me time. 

“Thank you for rescuing me.”  You looked toward him, taking a deep breath. “Thank you for allowing your healer to treat my wounds. I …” You didn’t know if you actually wanted to admit to him how close you’d been to giving up, but decided that no matter what or who he was, he’d brought you on board and deserved to hear the truth. “If you hadn’t found me that day, I was … I was going to wait until sundown, when the sea beasts …” 

“Then I am very glad we saw your boat.” He cautiously reached over, letting his fingertips touch your hand but not pushing for more. “You may not know who you are or where you come from right now, but I’m certain that you have much to live for.” 

“Maybe.” You glanced down at your hands. “I have no jewelry. I have nothing with a house sigil on it. I don’t know who might be looking for me, or where I was going, or -”

“You remembered the lightning.” He nodded, brow furrowed. “You remembered the storm. The way you speak and the information you know tells me that you are educated, and not just in historical events. If you want my guess?” He leaned a little closer, and you did too, captivated by the cadence of his voice and the warmth in his expression. “I think you are from Braavos. And if that is the case, your ship not showing up where it is supposed to be when it is supposed to be there will be big news.”  

He was right. And it’s as good a guess as any. “I have enough to book passage on a ship from Tyrosh back to Braavos.” You shook your head and then covered your face with your hands. “Or … or any other city between here and Tyrosh. You could just … Pentos. You could drop me off in Pentos, and -”

“I could do that.” He sighed, lips turning downward and into a frown. “If it is what you want me to do. But Braavos is just my guess. And if I am wrong? If you make it back to the city and it turns out that you are not from there?” His mouth moved, but no words came out for long seconds. “A woman alone with little money has very few options for survival.” 

“Oh.” Your shoulders slumped and you hung your head, eyes cast down so that you could focus on the surface of the water as the ship slipped through it. He was right about that, too. And while you figured a man like Daavos had spent time in the pleasure houses and brothels in both Westeros and Essos, it seemed that the idea of someone being forced into the profession wasn’t something he agreed with. 

You wondered if he had sisters - or even close friends while growing up - that had been thrust into that lifestyle against their will. Or maybe he just … cares. “May I tell you something else?” 

You murmured a yes, blinking rapidly before you looked over at him. The sun was truly beginning to set, and the light caught him perfectly, highlighting the planes of his face and seeming to make him glow. The sight of him - like that - was distracting, but you forced yourself to pay attention to what he was saying, trying to push the feeling of attraction to the side. It is not the right time. 

“My healer told me some other things about you after she examined you.” He closed his eyes, sighing. “I was not present for any of this, I assure you. But she said that you seem to be healthy. You have few scars, and despite it being crusted with salt and blood from the wound, your hair was … Not matted. No insects. It was singed, but your dress was well made and maintained.” He cautiously touched your hand again, fingers trailing down to take your wrist before he flipped it over, exposing your palm. “There are only small calluses on your hands and feet.” 

He slipped his thumb up and over the heel of your hand and then circled it against your palm, his touch gentle. But wait a minute … From what you could see, his hands were smooth, too - or at least smoother than those of a pirate should have been. There was dirt beneath his nails, but they were well-kept. And so is his hair and his facial hair. 

He traced along one of the lines on your palm, following it up the center of your hand with the tips of two of his fingers, but he didn’t say anything else for almost a minute. “She checked you for … trauma.” You knew what he meant immediately, and instead of attempting to draw your hand away from his, you closed your fingers, trapping his beneath them. “I thought … I thought maybe something had happened, and someone left you in that boat, and …”

“Did she find anything?” You hadn’t even considered the fact that you’d been abused and then abandoned, and even though there was wreckage from what Daavos assumed was your ship, he’d been right to check. 

“She told me no on both accounts, but did not give details.” He pressed his palm to yours and then withdrew his hand, steepling his fingers together, arms hanging over the edge of the railing. “That is a good thing.” It is. “Today must be overwhelming for you, so I will finish the tour by showing you the rest of the ship’s interior. There is a washroom. There is a galley. If and when you are hungry, please find something to eat.” 

“Am I allowed to be out here?” You held a hand up, thumb pointing back and behind you. “Or would you prefer I stay below deck?” 

“You can go wherever you wish.” His smile widened, and you were happy to see it. “You are not a prisoner on the Sand Snake. She is yours to explore.” You thanked him again, and when you both stood up and backed away from the railing, it was you that reached for him, laying your hand on his arm and letting it rest there. 

“I’ll go with you to Tyrosh, Daavos. Pentos is … there’s no need to make a special stop for me.” 

“I’m glad to hear that.” He closed his eyes and nodded, the small smile never faltering. “And I’m sure we’ll enjoy each other’s company until we arrive.” 

— 

For the next few days, you got to know the ship and some of the crew. 

The weather was pleasant, and the further south you sailed, the warmer the days became. You saw Daavos multiple times each day, but he didn’t visit you in your room at all. You knew that he’d gone in, though, because the door of his wardrobe was unlocked one afternoon, and one of the drawers on his desk was opened the next, revealing stacks of papers and a few small books inside of it. 

You knew it was wrong of you, especially after he’d been so generous with allowing you to remain in the room even after you didn’t need to anymore. But you couldn’t stop yourself from reading the pages. 

Some of them were Prince Oberyn’s personal items. There were letters from his daughters and Ellaria, sketches of a beautiful woman that you assumed was his lover, and even a few folded pieces of paper that you opted not to read after finding that they were correspondence that he’d never been able to send to the woman before his death. 

There was also poetry, which you absolutely read, your eyes scanning the words on the page as your heart ached for the man that had inked them. You knew who Prince Oberyn was and what he was known for, and based on the pages in front of you, the rumors of his romantic nature had been true. 

But his feud with the Lannisters had snuffed out his life too soon, leaving a woman that was clearly devoted to him as well as all of his daughters without him. It’s not fair, you thought as you shuffled through the papers and put them back into the order you’d found them in. He won that trial outright and there was no proof that he was responsible for Tywin and the army’s deaths. 

There was another stack of papers in the drawer, and those were in a different handwriting, leading you to believe that they were Daavos’. Reading the words of a dead man were one thing, but prying into the life of a man that you knew personally was another, and so with only a quick glance, you pushed them away from you and then shut the drawer. 

It locked with a click, and you stood up, deciding to get some fresh air. 

Twilight was settling over the sea, which meant activity on the deck was light. Most of the crew were in the galley or their quarters and enjoying their nightly meal. You opted to stay on the main deck, settling yourself atop one of the crates there and leaning against the ones stacked behind it. 

Your hands and face were better - the salve Daavos had given you was nothing short of magic. Though the worst blisters were still present, they’d gotten much smaller and no longer hurt. 

Your back was better, too, the healer confirming that you were on the mend. All things considered, the previous days had been wonderful for you, and the fresh salt breeze was likely helping. 

But you still didn’t remember anything about your previous life. 

You’d asked a few of the crewmen if they recognized the symbol on the metal or the mark on the bottom of your dagger, but none of them could help you. You’d inquired as to whether or not they recognized your accent based on their travels, but aside from a vague “you sound like you’re from the North”, there’d been no progress there, either.

But you could read. And if you could read, it stood to reason that you could write, too. You were educated and your body was soft, making clear that you’d never had to do hard labor.  Your clothes and boots were made from fine materials, and were well made, on top of that. The confirmation that your body bore no signs of sexual trauma was a relief, too. 

All of that together told you that whoever you were and wherever you were from, you’d likely had a good life, or at the very least, a comfortable one. “And yet I’m happy here, too.” You sighed and closed your eyes, tipping your head back. 

The crew were friendly, explaining the routines on the ship to you when you asked. You’d helped in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and slicing bread, even helping to cook meat. After the first few days on board, you’d woken up early in the morning, following the schedule of the majority of the crew. You would have helped more, earning your place among them, but they had been unwilling to let you. 

You assumed that was Daavos’ doing. While you appreciated the fact that he wanted you to get better before you overexerted yourself, you wondered how long that would last. Maybe until Tyrosh. You hoped that wasn’t the case, because there were still days to go until you docked there. 

“May I sit with you?” You opened your eyes at the sound of his voice, turning your head to the right. “We have not had time to speak today.” 

“Of course, Captain.” Scooting over, you left him room to sit beside you. “We’re what … three days out from Tyrosh?” He settled in, murmuring an agreement. 

“Maybe a little less.” He settled his hands on his lap, one thumb turning the ring on the other in a slow circle. “The winds change near Shipbreaker Bay, and we may be fortunate.” 

“I’m sure the crew will be happy to be on land for a few days.” He nodded, taking a deep breath. “What about you? Do you stay with the ship, or will you enjoy the city, too?” 

“The Three Sisters to Tyrosh is a short journey, so none of my crew are sea-weary.” There was a long pause, and when Daavos spoke again, you could tell that he was amused. “But if you’re asking what I believe you are asking, yes. I intend to make a few stops while we’re docked, and I’m sure they will, too.” You smiled, feeling your cheeks heat. Of course he understood my meaning. “After we inquire about you, of course.” 

“I can do that on my own.” You waved him off. “It shouldn’t take long. And I don’t want to cut your time short with … your business.” Daavos laughed, lifting one hand to press it to the center of his chest, and despite the slight embarrassment you felt at the subject of the conversation, you let yourself enjoy it. 

He laughed often, the sound carrying on the breeze to your ears throughout the days and in through your open window during the night. You looked forward to hearing it, but you enjoyed seeing him laugh even more, the corners of his eyes creased and a dimple appearing on one cheek. Daavos laughing usually made you want to join in, but that night, all you did was give him a small smile before lowering your head as you shook it back and forth. 

“I told you. I am responsible for you until I know that I don’t need to be any longer.” He reached over then, settling his hand on your knee and squeezing. “Us talking to a few people will not interfere with my business.” Daavos paused, and then sighed. “You still have not told me what you wish for me to use as your name.” 

Truthfully, you hadn’t given it much thought. The rest of the crew were happy to greet you without calling you anything, and you didn’t want to choose something quickly and then remain saddled with it if you never remembered who you really were. You told him as much, and Daavos didn’t reply at first - but when he did, his words stunned you. 

“What if I give you a name?” He looked over at you, waiting to see your response. You? But you don’t know me. How can you … “You were found by a Dornish ship with a Dornish crew, so it only seems right to carry that on and call you by a Dornish name.” 

“You know that much about Dorne? You could choose a -”

“I know a great many things about a great many people.” He nodded. “And I have spent more than enough time in Dorne to have an idea of the importance of the names they often use there.” 

“But I’m not -” 

“I won’t choose Nymeria. I promise.” He winked at you and that made you laugh, his lips curving upward at the sound. “Not Dyanne. Not Emarye. Not Arianne.” He sighed. “Meria? No, no, that is …” Daavos cocked his head to the side, furrowing his brows. “Myriah?” He nodded. “That might …” Myriah? “Myriah Martell and her brother united Dorne with the rest of Westeros by marrying Targaryens. It is a strong name. A good name. And if you agree, that is what I…” He swept one of his hands in a half circle to indicate the rest of the ship. “What we will call you for as long as you are with us.” 

You thought for a few minutes, letting his words sink in. It’s only temporary. Once I remember who I am, I won’t use that anymore. You didn’t mind the name - especially when it was coming from Daavos’ lips. “Alright.” You agreed, shifting so that you could face him. “I accept that.” 

Daavos got to his feet and spun to face you, his smile widening. “Well that was simple.” You stood, too, and when Daavos held out his hand, you took it, the man’s fingers closing around yours before he’d opened his mouth again. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Myriah.” 

You wanted to tell him the same, but before you could get the words out, he was lifting your hand and leaning forward, lips puckered. He kissed the back of it and didn’t pull away before raising his gaze to meet yours. Oh, he … this is … it shouldn’t be this enjoyable to … Daavos closed his eyes and squeezed your fingers before releasing them. “It’s…” You shook your head to clear it. “That is definitely not my actual name, so -”

“One down, endless possibilities to go.” He smiled again, and you joined him in laughter, deciding that in spite of the reservations you felt about your behavior - and what was appropriate with Daavos, you were going to try to be less harsh on yourself. At least while I’m on board. “Your help around the ship has been noticed.” He gestured for you to walk with him, and so you did, the two of you heading for the bow and then up the steps. “But you don’t need to work so hard. You are my guest, not a sailor.” 

“I’ve already kicked you out of your bedroom. I can’t just no nothing. I don’t like being idle.” You paused, turning to look at him. “Daavos, there’s a possibility that in a few days, I’ll find out where I came from and where I was supposed to go, and then you won’t have to worry about me offering help.” 

You felt disappointment gathering in your chest as you spoke the words, the emotion foreign for you. You wanted the truth, wanted to find yourself … but a small part of you wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the handsome man that had saved you from certain death. Handsome pirate… he’s not just a man. 

“Can I ask you a personal question?” He lifted a brow, one side of his mouth quirking upward, too. I’m going to take that as a yes. “Are you … married?” You crossed your arms and then uncrossed them, very aware that you could have been too forward with him. “I just wonder if you have someone waiting in a port somewhere, or if one of the women on board are -”

“None of the women on this ship are mine.” His smile widened, Daavos letting out a deep breath. “And as for a wife?” He looked off to his right, his expression faltering briefly. “She is my wife in all of the ways that matter to me, but I have not seen her for many months.” He looked back at you, and even though he was smiling, the expression was sad. “This life is not for her, but she understands that I am doing what I must do.” 

You weren’t surprised, but you were a little confused. In all the ways that matter? What does that mean? You were also somewhat disappointed, and there was no way for you to pretend otherwise. Of course he has someone. “Will you see her soon?”

“Very soon.” He grinned, putting a hand on his hip. “It is something that has been a long time coming, and I hope that she is just as excited as I am.” Why wouldn’t she be? You wondered if he was meeting her in Tyrosh - if she was one of the stops that he was planning on making once the ship docked. 

Before you could ask, though, the sound of a clanging bell rang out, startling you - and Daavos. “What is that? Why -”

“That is the signal for rough water. It means things might not be so smooth tonight.” He sighed. “Of course it happens after dark, but…” He muttered something under his breath that you didn’t catch, but when Daavos caught your eye again, the smile was back on his lips. “Let me walk you back to your room.” 

You agreed, thanking him. To your surprise, he offered you his arm to lead you across the deck and back toward he stairs, his hand settling over yours once you’d tucked it into the crook of his elbow. As the two of you walked together, you felt the ship sway beneath your feet. It was the first time since you’d been on board that you felt unsteady, but with Daavos next to you, you kept your balance. 

You made it to the door of your room and he stopped, pulling his arm free from yours. He didn’t say goodnight or turn to leave, though. “Thank you for making sure I got back safely.” You spoke quietly, the flickering lanterns casting light over both of you. “Will the waves make it hard for you to sleep tonight?” 

“No.” He leaned in. “Don’t worry about me.” He wet his lips, eyes searching your face for long moments. It should have made you uncomfortable, but instead you grew warm at the way his focus felt. He just told me he has someone. He just … stop. “You may want to douse the lantern in your room tonight. If it gets too rough, it -”

He was cut off by another lurch of the ship, but that one caused you to lose your balance. You stumbled forward a few steps, both hands rising and then coming to rest against his chest. Daavos reacted, too, his arms winding around you to keep you from falling over. “Oh! Daavos, I -” The ship rocked again, but he had his feet planted that time, and managed to keep you both steady. 

You should have moved. 

The proper thing to do would have been to pull yourself out of his arms and go into the bedroom … but you didn’t. Instead, you let him hold you, your eyes locked with his in the dim hallway. As the seconds ticked by, you felt his hands move, Daavos sliding one of them slowly up your back and pulling you even closer. 

You curled your fingers against his shirt, the material silky to the touch - and for a split second, wondered if his hair would be just as soft. Or his lips. Your eyes dropped to his mouth and lingered there. The desire that had been simmering since the moment you’d first woken up to see him through the gauzy sunlight filtering through his curtains overwhelmed your common sense. Kiss me. Please kiss me. 

 It was him that moved first, Daavos tilting his head to the side as he leaned in, palm flat against your back and his fingers spread wide. He’s going to kiss me. 

But it was you that stopped him, your mouth opening and somehow overpowering your body’s reaction to his proximity. “Please don’t.” He stopped moving immediately, both eyes widening. “You just … your wife. You -”

“There is so much that you do not know.” His lips twisted into a frown as he straightened up, but Daavos didn’t let go of you. “So much, and -”

“You’re right.” You felt the tears gathering and then blinked them away furiously, even as you pushed against his chest to put distance between you. “I know nothing about myself. I might have a husband that spends his time writing me poetry like the kind I found in your - in Oberyn’s room.” The tears fell and you watched Daavos’ face do the same, the man wincing at your words. “I might have someone that misses me the way that he missed Ellaria and his daughters when they were apart, but I don’t know.” 

He spoke then, saying your agreed-upon name and then stopping, head lowering as he shook it. It sounds strange to me, too. “You might. It would not surprise me.”

“But what I do know? Is that you just told me that you do have someone. And they’re waiting for you. And no matter how much I would like to let you kiss me, I will not risk losing your goodwill when it comes to my place on this ship.” You sucked in a breath, pushing on his chest again in frustration. That time, he let you go, taking a step back but not looking away as he let you see the hurt in his expression. “And I won’t hurt a woman I’ve never met by taking something that isn’t mine to take.” 

“I am sorry.” He swallowed, holding up one hand. “It was my mistake.” Your heart lurched at his admission, and you fought to keep your expression even. The ship swayed again, forcing you to reach out with one hand to brace yourself against the wall. Daavos looked away and over his shoulder before settling his attention back on you. “Please don’t think less of me.” 

“I don’t.” Your heart was pounding, but what you said was the truth. You’d both gotten caught up in the moment - and you’d stopped yourself before crossing a line. “It happens. A moment of weakness, and nothing more.” Gesturing to the hallway behind him, you forced a smile. “Go. Check on your ship.” 

He thanked you and then turned away after giving you one final look. But before Daavos had taken more than a few steps, he stopped and looked back in your direction. “I was not just talking about you when I said there were things that you don’t know.” What does that even mean? “Sleep well.” 

Daavos turned away again and then disappeared into the darkness. You stared after him for long moments, trying to make sense of what he’d said - and what had almost happened between you. “I can do that inside.” 

You spoke to yourself, the sound of your voice forcing you into motion. Minutes later, you were inside of the room and in bed. You doused the lantern like Daavos had suggested, which plunged the room into almost total darkness and left you alone with your thoughts - and the memory of his touch.

Sleep evaded you for hours. It had little to do with the way the ship moved atop the water and everything to do with the way that the look of disappointment in Daavos’ eyes had mirrored what you felt as you pushed him away and heard him call the moment between you a mistake. 

—