#but damn it hit directly in the feels in a way I never expected

[hplonesomeart]

Some extra Snatcher encouragement as a treat✨

[eelnoise]

one night/all night

law x fem!reader (nsfw!)

week 2 of small kinktober!

>an accidental stumble over some mysterious spores leaves both you and your captain at wits end.

cw: sex pollen, multiple orgasms, dom!law, oral sex (both), begging, semi-public sex an: god damn this one kicked my ass. but i'm finally happy with it. enjoy! wc: 4.7k

Trafalgar Law is no stranger to the oddities of this world. He's chased curiosity across enough oceans to work the fruits of his labor into a lifelong goal. 

In his pursuit for knowledge, Law bands a crew of his careful choosing together to aid with the task. Made up of dearest friends and closest confidants, the Heart Pirates are deeply loyal to their captain—even if he feels unworthy of it. 

This includes you. Brought aboard for your experience with botany and overall usefulness, you had fit in quickly—going so far as garnering Law's trust with enough relative ease that even he's grown deeply attached to you. 

He brings you in tow for most of his errands on land, not all of which you're privy to, but never once do you pry or question and Law's come to need that comfort more than he'd care to say. 

With his business concluded with his acquaintance, Law exits the small coastal cottage and finds you in the nearby clearing, sitting on your haunches and hovering over what looks like a pair of bright green mushrooms with your sketchbook in your hands.

He isn’t intentionally trying to be quiet as he strides up behind you. However, when he calls out your name, you yelp in sudden surprise, toppling forward and into whatever you had been focused on. The sole of your boot catches on one of the fungi, uprooting it, while the other disintegrates beneath your knee. The remnants hiss ominously, releasing plumes of spores from their caps that are immediately swept away by the breeze, swirling directly into both of your faces.

You try your best to roll out of the way as Law attempts to ease the situation with use of his devil fruit, but he’s too late to get the bulk of the remaining spores. 

Law’s eyes water as the spores hit his face, and he can’t help but cough and sputter. He wipes his eyes and looks at you with a mixture of annoyance and concern. “Would you please stop touching strange plants?” he asks, though his tone is far from polite.

"No. That was all you." you reply with a frown, trying to play cool despite the frustrated look on your face. The spores had caught you off guard too, filling your lungs with a strange tingling sensation that seems to be lingering. “You’re the one sneaking around like a fucking cat.”

Law's eyes narrow at your accusation, but the effect is somewhat dampened by the spores still floating in the air. He can feel them affecting his senses, making everything seem more vivid and intense. He takes a step closer to you, his gaze locked onto yours.

"I was not sneaking," he says, low and controlled. "I simply didn't want to disturb you while you were so focused on your work. But now that I see the mess you've made, I can't help but wonder if you're even capable of handling a simple task without causing chaos."

You roll your eyes at him and rise to your feet, brushing the dirt off your sketchpad and tucking it into your pack before doing the same with your boiler suit. "I was trying to document enough of it for research back on the sub, which is, you know, my job."

Law shakes his head and pinches his nose with a sigh. "Doesn't matter. Now let’s go; we don’t have much daylight left." He turns on his heel and starts walking, clearly expecting you to follow.

As you fall into step beside him, Law can't help but notice the way his attention seems to be constantly drawn to you. Your movements are slightly more exaggerated, your breathing a bit heavier than usual. He tries to focus on the path ahead, but finds his gaze constantly drawn to your form.

"What exactly were you hoping to learn from those mushrooms?" he asks, more to distract himself than out of genuine curiosity. "I thought your expertise was more in... practical plants."

He can feel the heat of your body next to his, the scent of your skin mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest. It's intoxicating and though he knows he should just take the lead—to put you out of sight even if temporarily—but he can't bring himself to stray too far from you.

Part of you wants to argue—to explain just how and why he’s wrong, and how his position as your captain doesn’t excuse the sheer audacity of his words. Yet you sigh in defeat; it simply isn’t worth it.

"To be fair, they may very well have been 'practical,'" you begin, wiping the uncomfortable sweat from your brow. "The plan was to sketch it, take some notes, and look into my books back on in my room for more information."

"Plus, I was bored. You were taking a while, you know?" You look up at him, and the way he’s already looking back down at you makes the heat rise in your neck.

Law's eyes flicker to your face, taking in the flushed cheeks and the quick breaths. "Boredom is no excuse for recklessness," he mutters, his tone a little rougher than intended.

The dusty road widens into the overgrown remnants of what was once this island's capital. Charred ruins of stone and wood mark the past, leaving behind winding streets of crumbling buildings covered in ash and soot, the smell of smoke lingering in the dry air.

Acres of scarred, lifeless land remain forever trapped in its moment of doom. It’s a bleak sight—and that’s putting it lightly.

Law leads the way down the debris-strewn street. He keeps his senses on high alert, scanning the dilapidated buildings for any signs of movement or danger, but the heat is oppressive, and it only adds to the growing tension coiling in his gut.

Silence falls between you, and Law’s mind begins to wander. His fist clenches tightly around the brim of his hat, both troubled and irritated. Those spores have surely fucked with him, and now he’s faced with the circumstance of it being you that fate has left him in this condition with.

He just had to keep you instead of allowing you to pair off with Ikkaku. Didn’t he? He could have He could have—should have—gone it alone, but this time, his damn pride may finally be his fall.

Though he can’t deny the effect it’s having on him—the way his heart races and how his body responds to your closeness. He’s always been attracted to you, convinced he didn’t have the time or reason to piece it all together, but this feels... different.

Law doesn't know if he's angry at himself or if he's frustrated with you—accident or not, those spores are doing something to him. There's no other way to explain the artificial intensity pumping through his veins.

The grip on his sword tightens, the hilt digging into his palm as he struggles to focus on the weight of his duty instead of the intoxicating allure of the way you look, the scent that envelops him, and the mesmerizing way your body moves beside him, each glance a reminder of the reckless desire brewing within.

Meanwhile your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, most of them incoherent and centered around the growing desire that seems to be tangling in your belly.

Sweat trickles down your neck, and your skin feels like it’s tingling. What the fuck is this heat? 

Your first instinct is to blame the spores, for while yearning for your captain is nothing new, this longing feels heightened, almost overwhelming, as if the very air around you has stoked a smoldering desire deep inside.

You’ve encountered your share of strange plant life, but a mycelium with enough substance to trigger this much of a response from a fully grown person? Nearly impossible.

But what the hell do you know?

Trying to push away your thoughts, you force your steps to match the rhythm of Law’s. You can feel his gaze, acutely aware of how he leans in occasionally to avoid brushing against you. The tension between you is palpable, and it's making you feel a little disoriented.

You’re unsure how much longer you can maintain the charade of feigned composure. Every step feels heavy, and every breath is shallow and labored. The heat of the sun is nothing compared to the fire building inside you, threatening to consume you whole.

You lose count of Law’s footsteps as you try to cool off by fanning yourself, pulling your hair up, and drinking your fair share of water from the bottle you carry in your pack—but nothing seems to help. Something’s gotta give, or you’re going to melt.

Without a shred of a second thought, you unzip the heavy suit and slide your arms out of the sleeves, tying them around your waist. You sigh in relief as the breeze flows over your arms and through the thin fabric of your tank top, but it does little to truly soothe the lingering heat between your thighs.

Law's breath catches in his throat as he hears the sound of your zipper. He tries to keep his eyes forward, but his gaze is drawn to your form like a magnet. The sight of your exposed skin, glistening with sweat in the fading sunlight, sends a bolt of pure lust straight to his core.

He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry. The heat that had been building inside him reaches a new level, and he can feel his cock straining against the confines of his pants.

Trafalgar Law's eyes rake over you, taking in the sight of your flushed skin and the way your chest rises and falls with your heavy breaths. The emphasis of his tone iis rough as he asks, "How do you feel?"

It's a loaded question, one that he hopes will reveal just how much those spores have affected you. He's afraid to know the answer, but he can't help but want to hear it.

Your voice wavers slightly as you try to maintain a facade of calm. "I... I'm not sure," you admit, your eyes unable to break away from his intense gaze. "Hot. Really hot."

You take a step closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. The air between you feels charged, electric. "Are you okay?" you ask him in a soft whisper.

Law's eyes widen at your question, surprised by your boldness. He hadn't expected you to be so direct, so forthcoming about what you were feeling. He takes a step closer, closing the distance between you until your bodies are almost touching.

Law's fist clenches at his side, knuckles turning white. He's not okay. He's so far from okay it's laughable. But he can't tell you that. He can't tell you about how he's been left him in a state of constant arousal, that every nerve ending in his body is screaming for attention, for relief. 

For you.

"I’m fine," he replies through gritted teeth, the lie lingering in the air between you. He can smell you now; the scent of your sweat is intoxicating, pulling him further into disorientation.

"You don't look fine. Maybe I can–" You trail off, your eyes growing into a half-lidded daze as you trail down his body, taking a long look at the way his muscles ripple in his arms before snapping back up to his face with an awkward cough that doesn't really hide anything.

Your eyes meet Law's, and the intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine. You see the desire burning in his eyes, mirroring the heat coursing through your veins.

You take another step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. Your hand reaches out, fingers trembling slightly as they brush against his chest. "Maybe I can help," you whisper, barely audible over the sound of his racing pulse.

He feels his resolve crumbling with your touch, your sultry tone and hungry gaze sending shivers down his spine. He wants to push you away, to maintain his composure, but his body betrays him.

"You don't understand," he grunts, tilting his face away from you. But even as he speaks, his hands are moving of their own accord, reaching out to grab your hips and pull you closer. "I can't... I shouldn't..."

This isn’t how he wanted this to go.

"Law," your voice calling his name eases the rumble in his head, instantly clearing the chaos of his relentless thoughts. "I want to help you. Anything..."

Law's pupils dilate at your words as something snaps within him, crashing his lips against yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. His hands pillow the impact as you're shoved against the cast-off remains of a building built from stone. He nips at your bottom lip, urging you to open for him, and when you do, he plunges his tongue into your mouth, claiming you with a passion that steals the breath from your lungs.

Law's grip on your hips tightens, pulling you closer until you can feel the hard length of his cock pressed against your belly. The heat between you is palpable, as is the need that rolls off him in waves.

"Tell me you want this," he growls into you, lips barely breaking contact with yours. "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

Your breathing hitches as his demand echoes in your ears. You bite your lip, weighing the consequences of giving in. But then, you look deep into his eyes, seeing the hunger reflected in your own.

"Yes," you whisper,  trembling with desire. "I want this. I need you, Captain."

Law's eyes flash with triumph, and he wastes no time in responding to your plea. His hands move to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he wraps your legs around his waist. He pins you against the stone wall, his hips grinding against yours in a rhythm that's both torturous and exhilarating.

His hands roam your body, caressing your curves as if he's memorizing every inch of you. He breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there. "Taste so good," he murmurs, the husky rasp of his voice tickling your flesh.

Law's hands make short work of your clothing, peeling at the fabric of your shirt and tugging it your shoulders leaving you bare chested before him. He takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, his attention roving over your body with a hunger that makes your skin prickle with anticipation.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his calloused fingers tracing the curve of your breast, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hip. "Perfect."

He lowers his head, taking your nipple into his mouth and suckling greedily. His teeth graze the sensitive surface, sending jolts of lightning through your veins.

You gasp at the sensation, arching into his touch. Your  hands find their way into his hair, knocking his hat off in the process of tangling your fingers in the dark, raven strands as you write and shiver under his touch.

"Law," you moan, your words breathy and filled with yearning. "Please..."

You're not sure what you're begging for, but you know you need more. You need him. All of him.

He obliges you with a final, harsher nibble to your hardened bud before pulling away to trail his lips down your torso. Long fingers slide from your hips to unzip and shuffle the remainder of the suit down over your legs to fall in a heap around your ankles.

Law’s breath hovers over your panties, inches away from where you’re dying for contact.

“Move these.” He commands. "Show me."

Your body thrums with want, his imposing tone weakening you into desire borne of flame. Your  hands tremble as you hook your fingers into the front waistband of your panties and slowly slides to the side. The cool air hits your heated skin, making you shiver. 

Law’s eyes lock onto your exposed sex, his gaze burning into you. He doesn’t hesitate, diving in to taste you, his tongue flicking out to tease at your clit. You whimper at the sensation, your body arching up off the wall in response.

He buries his face between your thighs, licking and sucking, his fingers gripping your hips to hold you steady while his tongue works its magic. You can feel the intensity building within you, every single one of your senses feels like they're working overdrive.

Law's tongue swirls around your clit, alternating between flicking and sucking, as his fingers delve into your wet heat. He groans against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body.

His fingers twist inside you, stroking along your inner walls and hitting that sweet spot that makes your toes curl.

Law's skilled tongue and fingers work in perfect harmony, driving you further and further towards the edge. You can feel the pressure building, the need to release coiling tighter and tighter within you.

"Captain," you moan, your wails a broken plea. "Please... please, I need..."

Law doesn't let up, continuing to lap at your sensitive flesh as you ride out your orgasm. He relishes in the taste of you, in the way your body shudders against him, and the sounds of your pleasure. You cry out, the orgasm ripping through you, your body shuddering and trembling as waves of pleasure crash through you.

As your trembling subsides, he stands, his eyes dark with lust and his lips glistening with your juices. "On your knees," he utters, his tone low and gravelly, resonating with an intensity that captivates.

You comply, quickly discarding your shoes and the remainder of your clothing onto the dusty ground below and sink to your knees. You sit patiently as you look up at him through your lashes and watch as he wastes no time in freeing himself from the confines of his jeans, his cock springing forth, hard and ready.

"Suck."

He doesn't give you any more instructions, simply guides your head forward, positioning his cock at your lips. You open your mouth, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, and begin to suck.

Musky and slightly salty—you relish in his taste, and as he begins to guide your motions your mouth is filled full again and again, the tip of his length rutting so far down your throat that your eyes begin to water. 

But you love it. Fuck, you love it.

Law groans, his head falling back as he savors the feeling of your mouth around him. He tangles his fingers in your hair, using it as leverage to control the pace, pushing deeper with each thrust.

"Fuck, just like that," he growls, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock into your throat.

You can feel him growing harder, his cock throbbing against your tongue as he nears his release. His grip on your hair tightens, and he holds you in place as he begins to fuck your face in earnest, chasing his pleasure.

You gag with each powerful thrust as spit and drool drench along his cock.

Law's eyes roll back in his head, a low moan escaping his lips as he feels your throat constrict around him. He can feel his orgasm building, the pressure in his balls growing with each thrust.

Law's grip on your hair tightens as he nears the edge, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he hisses, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

Law's orgasm rips through him, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your mouth. You choke and gag around his cock, some of his cum escaping from your nose as he holds you in place.

He grunts, his grip on your hair loosening as the last of his seed spills into you. "Fuck, that's it," he pants, his cock still twitching as he pulls out of your mouth, leaving you to cough and gasp for air.

Law takes a moment to catch his breath, his chest heaving as he looks down at you. "Stand up," he commands.

As you rise to your feet, he takes a step back, his eyes roaming over your naked form. "Turn around," he orders, "ass out." Law's hands grip your hips as he positions you, his fingers digging into your skin. "Spread your legs," he orders.

You comply, bracing yourself against the wall as you feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. He teases you, rubbing the tip up and down your slit, coating himself in your juices.

"Beg for it," he demands, his breath hot against your ear. "Beg me to fuck you."

"Please, Captain," you whimper, your body aching for him. "Please, please fuck me. I need your cock or I'm gonna go fucking crazy. "

Law's control snaps at your desperate plea. With a primal grunt, he thrusts into you, filling you in one swift motion. The feeling of his thick cock stretching you open is overwhelming, and you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. 

He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with a force that rocks your body against the wall. Your hands scrabble for purchase, nails digging into the stone as he fucks you with wild abandon.

Law's hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you in place as he rails into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the ruins, punctuated by your moans and his grunts of exertion.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his hips snapping forward with each thrust. "Take it, take my cock."

His fingers find your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation sends you hurtling towards another climax, your body tensing as the pressure builds within you.

With a loud cry unto the heavens, you gush around his cock, clenching as if milking him for everything he's got to give.

And fuck he wants to give you his all. Wants to empty himself into you over and over again until the only word you know is his name.

Law's hips buck, driving into you as you orgasm, his fingers digging into your flesh as he rides out your climax. The sound of your name on your lips is enough to send him over the edge, his body tensing as he releases inside you, his seed filling you up.

He holds you there, still buried deep within you, his breathing heavy as he regains control. "Mine," he breathes, his tone thick with possession.

But he doesn't stop, he can't stop indulging in you. For so long has he wanted this— wanted you— and some of him thanks fate for this, admittedly large and unexpected push into coming around to his feelings. 

His pace only slows as he tilts your head backward to catch your lips in a kiss.

Law's lips move against yours, the kiss deep and possessive. He swallows your moans, his tongue delving into your mouth to taste you.

His hands roam your body, caressing your curves, mapping out every inch of you. He breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

"Again," he orders, his hips never ceasing their relentless pace. "Come for me again."

His fingers find your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation is too much, the edges of your vision begin to blur as you can feel another wave of delirium crash over you.

Law pulls orgasm after orgasm from your well loved, exhausted form. He thinks himself insatiable— that he will never have his fill of you. Over and over does the rhythm of his motions continue, his balls slapping against your clit in a tangle that rivals two animals in heat.

The relentless pursuit of your pleasure is unyielding. You cry out his name with each orgasm, your body quivering and shaking as he brings you to the edge time and time again.

His own lust grows with each climax you offer, the spores heightening the intensity of the experience. He's a beast, unyielding and unrelenting, his focus solely on claiming your body as his own.

Finally, as the sun dips below the horizon, casting the ruins in a warm glow, Law's orgasms become fewer and farther between. Eventually, he collapses against your back in an exhausted huff.

Law's body slumps against yours, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He nuzzles into your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he places soft kisses along your neck and shoulder.

"Fuck, that was incredible," he murmurs, voice hoarse from exertion. "Felt amazing."

He pulls out of you slowly, his cock slipping from your well-used body. You both wince at the sudden emptiness, but the sensation is quickly replaced by a deep sense of satisfaction.

Law turns you around, his hands cupping your face as he looks into your eyes. "You're amazing," he says, and you can tell he’s sincere.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. It's a stark contrast to the frenzied passion you've experienced throughout the day, but no less intense.

When he pulls away, you're both breathless. "Let's get cleaned up and head back to the sub," he suggests, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. 

Law carefully assists you with your scattered clothing, his hands move with a gentle touch, helping you dress. His fingers linger on your skin, stealing soft caresses as he does.

Once you're both clothed and covered, he takes your hand, intertwining your fingers. "Ready?" he asks, his eyes sparkling with a softness you don't recognize.

You give him a nod and he pulls you close, slipping his hand into yours as the two of you begin to walk together out of the rubble and back into the direction of civilization. 

"What about those ruins? Weren't we looking for something?" You ask curiously, craning your neck to peer up at him with a raised brow.

"We'll come back for the ruins," Law says, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "For now, I think the both of us need some rest." 

"But aren't you worried about questions from the others? We aren't exactly showing up looking innocent, you know."

He grins down at you, a warm sparkle in his eye. "Don't worry, I can teleport us straight into my cabin from outside the sub. That way, you won't have to face the crew in such disarray."

You know he's honest, and so you let yourself relax and lean into his shoulder. The closeness is nice, and with the heightened exhilaration finally ebbing away it feels nice. 

It feels real.

When Law decides you’re close enough to the coast, the world around you shifts in an instant, and suddenly you’re enveloped in the cozy warmth of his cabin aboard the Polar Tang.

You accept his invitation to use his shower, and your heart leaps in your chest when he slips in behind you to wrap his long arms around your waist. The hot water cascades over your bodies, washing away the sweat and dirt from your day of exploration.

Law takes his time, his hands roaming your body as he cleans you. It's a tender gesture, a stark contrast to the frenzied passion from earlier.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice soft as he cups your face. "I know today was... intense."

You nod, leaning into his touch. "I'm more than okay," you murmur, a smile tugging at your lips. "I'm happy."

Law smiles, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as he gazes into your eyes. "Me too," he whispers, before leaning in to capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss.

He takes his time, savoring the feel of your mouth against his, the water cascading over your entwined bodies. When he finally pulls away, you're both breathless, your hearts racing in sync.

That night, you curl up in his bed, snuggled against his chest. A calmness fills the room, wrapping you in a soothing aura. Your captain is sound asleep, no doubt exhausted from the day’s events, and while uncertainty lingers about what comes next now that the spores are out of your system, that’s a worry for another day; for now, you find solace in his embrace.

[creamflix]

various jujutsu kaisen men x reader; suggestive content. no reader gender specified, except in sukuna's part (use of "woman"). use of different smoking techniques and devices, vapes, weed, hookah, cigars, cigarettes, bongs. making out. established relationship. includes gojo satoru, geto suguru, ryomen sukuna, nanami kento, shiu kong, toji fushiguro, ino takuma. — masterlist here ☆

you never thought you'd see GOJO with a vape. he always seemed above that kind of thing, the type to make fun of anyone who’d whip one out in public. yet here he was, casually lounging on the couch, blowing out a cloud of sweet-scented smoke with the ease of someone who’d been doing it for a while.

you raise an eyebrow, staring at him, trying to process the image in front of you. “vaping? seriously?”

gojo looks over at you with that signature smirk of his, the one that always manages to get under your skin. “what?” he says, taking another hit, lips closing around the tip before he exhales slowly, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “it’s just a hobby.”

“yeah, a weird one,” you mutter, eyeing the slim device in his hand. “kinda thought you'd be above it.”

“what can i say, i’m full of surprises.” he leans in closer, his icy blue eyes flickering with amusement. “wanna try?”

you hesitate. vaping always struck you as... juvenile, but the fruity smell of whatever flavor he was using lingers between you, filling the air with a sweet, almost tempting aroma. strawberry, raspberry, maybe even a hint of cherry. your curiosity gets the better of you, and you give him a slight nod. "fine, just a taste."

gojo’s smirk deepens as he takes another long drag, his eyes never leaving yours. you expect him to hand you the vape, but instead, he leans forward, grabbing your chin between his fingers. before you can process what’s happening, he tilts your head up, bringing his lips close, and blows the warm, sweet vapor directly into your mouth.

your eyes widen, shock freezing you in place as the sensation hits — warm, soft, and strangely intimate. the flavor floods your senses, sweet and slightly tangy, making your tongue tingle as you instinctively breathe in. there’s a brief pause where your mind blanks, the closeness of gojo’s face, the taste of the vapor, the feel of his breath mixing with yours, and then it hits you.

you’re hooked.

he pulls back, watching you with a teasing glint in his eyes, his fingers still lightly gripping your chin. “how’s that?”

you swallow, still tasting the fruity sweetness in your mouth, a little lightheaded from the unexpected intensity of it all. "that... that was —"

“good?” he interrupts, chuckling as he leans back again, clearly amused by your reaction. “told ya, you’d like it.”

“you could’ve just handed me the damn thing,” you huff, trying to sound annoyed, but your voice comes out softer than you intended.

“where’s the fun in that?” he shoots back, his smile widening as he takes another drag. “besides, this way’s more... personal.”

you roll your eyes, but your heart is still racing. there’s something addicting about the way he did it, the closeness, the way his fingers felt on your skin, the taste of him lingering in the vapor he shared with you. you know it's not the vape you're craving —it’s him.

you never expected NANAMI to be the type to use nicotine pouches, but the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. his job was stressful, and he had that quiet, restrained intensity about him — like he needed something to keep himself in check. still, finding out about it during a heated makeout session wasn’t how you imagined the discovery would go.

you were pressed up against him, hands fisted in his shirt as your tongues tangled together, his lips warm and firm against yours. everything was electric, your body humming with the connection, when you felt something odd in his mouth —something that definitely wasn’t his tongue. you froze, pulling back abruptly, eyes wide as you tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

nanami, ever calm and collected, looked a little flustered as he caught your confused expression. he didn’t say a word, just parted his lips and pulled his gum back slightly, revealing the small, white pouch tucked between his lip and gums. his face was flushed, a faint pink creeping up from his neck to his cheeks, and the sight of him like that — lips parted, a little breathless, and his mouth slightly open — had your heart skipping a beat.

“nicotine pouch,” he explained simply, his voice a low rumble, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. but there was something about the way he had his mouth open like that, the pouch still in place, his expression serious yet slightly embarrassed, that sent a wave of heat rushing through you. he looked... hot. unexpectedly so.

“oh...” was all you managed to say, your heart still pounding. there was a beat of silence, the tension between you both thick and heady, and then without thinking, you surged forward, kissing him again, harder this time.

his lips met yours eagerly, and as your tongues clashed again, you could taste it — the faint bitterness of the nicotine pouch, the strange, numbing sensation spreading across your mouth. it was disorienting at first, the bitter tang making your head spin, but it only seemed to heighten everything. each kiss felt more intense, more urgent, and the slight numbness in your mouth had your nerves firing in overdrive, making every touch of his tongue and lips feel electrifying.

nanami groaned softly against your mouth, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you closer, his usually calm demeanor fraying at the edges. the nicotine pouch made his kiss feel different, rougher, and you found yourself addicted to the sensation, the bitter taste mixing with the warmth of his mouth, making your head swim. it was intoxicating, the strange mix of flavors and sensations, the way his lips moved against yours with more fervor than before.

you couldn’t get enough.

you had long grown accustomed to SHIU’s habit of smoking, but that didn’t mean it didn’t annoy you. the smell clung to everything — his clothes, the cushions, even the air felt thick with it sometimes. and the ash? you’d complain about it constantly, even though, in truth, he was pretty mindful about where he flicked it. but still, you’d nag him about it whenever you caught a stray bit of ash on the sofa or the faint smell of tobacco in the living room.

"you’re stinking up the whole damn place," you grumbled one day, narrowing your eyes at him as he took a slow drag, blowing the smoke out lazily as if you hadn’t just been ranting at him.

shiu, ever calm, just rolled his eyes, not even bothering with a response. instead, he grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you into him with more force than necessary. before you could utter another complaint, his lips crashed against yours, silencing any protest.

the taste of the cigarette clung to his breath, bitter and smoky, and it hit you immediately, flooding your senses. his kiss was rough, no room for softness or hesitation, and the faint burn of tobacco on his lips made it all the more intense. his hand gripped the back of your neck, fingers curling into your hair as he pressed you against his broad chest, trapping you in the scent of him, the smoke, the heat.

you felt like you were drowning in it — his scent, the taste of the cigarette, the force of his body against yours. your hands scrambled for something to hold onto, finding purchase against the solid muscle of his torso. his lips moved against yours with fierce determination, almost as if he was trying to overwhelm you with the very thing you had been complaining about.

and it was working.

his other hand slid down your back, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you, and you found yourself melting into the kiss despite the lingering bitterness of the cigarette smoke. the more you tried to resist, the more intense he became, his hold on you almost possessive.

when he finally pulled back, his eyes met yours, a smug, knowing smirk tugging at his lips as you stood there breathless, still caught in the haze of it all. "still complaining?" he asked, voice low and teasing, cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers.

you didn’t have an answer, your heart racing too fast for words. the taste of him lingered, the smoky scent still wrapped around you like a second skin.

"it's the last vape, i promise!" CHOSO whined, eyes wide as you scolded him for the umpteenth time that week. but you weren’t buying it. he’d said the same thing last time, and the time before that. now, he was constantly smelling and tasting like a mix of artificial flavors — cotton candy one day, mango peach the next, and sometimes even mint chocolate chip. it was hard to keep up.

"you smell like a candy shop," you muttered, shaking your head, though there was a slight smile tugging at your lips. "and taste like one too."

choso, looking both guilty and a little pleased with himself, fiddled with the vape in his hand, giving you a hopeful glance. "but look, i learned something cool," he said, a spark of excitement in his voice that was hard to ignore.

you sighed, but when he lifted the vape to his lips, taking a deep puff and blowing out a thick cloud of smoke, you couldn’t help but watch. he exhaled in slow, calculated bursts, forming rings and shapes in the air, the vapor swirling and dancing in the soft light. he showed off, blowing the rings one by one, and even adding a little flourish, making them loop together in a mesmerizing pattern.

you tried to stay annoyed, but it was hard when he was so damn proud of himself, his concentration so serious as he perfected each trick. "see?" he said, glancing over at you with a hint of a smile, clearly pleased with himself.

you giggled despite yourself, watching the way his eyes lit up every time he blew a new shape. it was... addicting to watch, the way the smoke moved, the way his lips curled around the vape so effortlessly. and somehow, the more you watched him, the harder it was to focus on being mad. he made it look so cool, his dark eyes focused, his body relaxed but in control, and it was hard not to be drawn in by his excitement.

“okay, okay, show me how to do that,” you finally said, giving in, though you weren’t sure whether it was curiosity or something else entirely that had you asking.

he smirked, clearly enjoying your change of heart. “here, lemme show you,” he said, stepping closer as he took another drag. this time, instead of showing off, he cupped your chin in his hand, pulling you closer as he leaned in. his thumb brushed over your lower lip, his grip firm but gentle as he held you in place.

“just take a deep breath,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, as he slowly blew the vapor into your mouth, guiding you through the motions. the taste of the vape, some sort of tropical blend, flooded your senses, sweet and almost overwhelming. but it wasn’t just the vape — it was the way he was holding you, the way his eyes stayed locked on yours, the rough press of his fingers on your skin.

you could feel your heart racing, and as the smoky sweetness coated your tongue, the intensity of his presence left you dizzy. you watched as he pulled back, his lips curling into a small, satisfied smile, and you swore you had never been more turned on.

his grip tightened on your chin, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. "now blow it out slowly," he whispered, his voice almost teasing, his gaze heavy as he watched your lips part.

it wasn’t the vape that was getting to you — it was him. and the heat pooling low in your stomach told you he knew it too.

“don’t be ridiculous, woman. kings smoke hookah all the time,” SUKUNA scoffs, leaning back in his seat, the hookah pipe resting casually between his lips. his body sprawled in all its intimidating, masculine glory, he looks utterly unbothered by your complaints.

you cross your arms, glaring up at him. “doesn’t mean you need to clutter your whole chamber with that thing,” you huff, gesturing toward the ornate hookah. “it takes up way too much space. i just want to lie next to you without knocking into it every time.”

he exhales a thick cloud of smoke, the rich scent of double apple filling the air around you, making it impossible to escape. his gaze shifts to you, eyes narrowing slightly as if your complaints are nothing but background noise. “always whining,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. “you sound like a child.”

before you can protest, one of his four arms snakes around your waist, pulling you onto his lap in one smooth, effortless motion. you gasp, your body tensing as he cages you in with his other two arms, his grip firm, possessive. “maybe if you weren’t so annoying, you’d get what you wanted,” he murmurs, the hookah pipe still dangling from his lips as he takes another long drag.

the sweet, intoxicating smell of double apple lingers thick in the air, clinging to his skin, his breath. you squirm slightly in his lap, trying to make yourself comfortable, but his grip tightens, leaving no room for movement. “sukuna, come on,” you start, your voice slightly breathless. “that thing smells so strong... and you smell like it too.”

he chuckles darkly, ignoring your complaint. instead, he takes another deep inhale from the hookah, his eyes watching you with a dangerous glint. without warning, he leans in, capturing your lips in a heated, overwhelming kiss. the taste of the hookah smoke floods your mouth immediately — thick, sweet, and strong.

you gasp into the kiss, the sharpness of the double apple flavor coating your tongue. it’s so intense, it’s like you’re tasting the smoke itself, your senses overrun by the sweetness and the warmth that lingers in his breath. your head spins slightly from the sensation, the smoky flavor mixing with the heat of his kiss, and it makes you dizzy.

he pulls back only slightly, his lips brushing against yours as he murmurs, “pathetic.” his tongue flicks out, licking a slow, deliberate stripe across your lips, making you shiver. “getting all worked up over just a kiss.”

you groan, trying to regain control, but the lingering taste of the double apple still clings to your tongue, overwhelming your senses. “it’s not just the kiss, sukuna,” you manage to say, breathless. “you’re practically drowning me in this stuff.”

he laughs, low and mocking. “then maybe you should learn to enjoy it,” he says, his voice dark, teasing. his grip on you tightens, pulling you even closer as he takes another drag from the hookah, exhaling the smoke slowly, deliberately, right in your face. the sweet, thick scent curls around you, and your body reacts involuntarily, your heart racing as you breathe in the intoxicating smell.

“sukuna…” you whisper, your voice faltering as the warmth of the smoke and the heat of his body press in on you from all sides.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, voice laced with amusement. “can’t handle a little smoke?” his lips curl into a smirk as he leans in again, this time pressing a rough, possessive kiss against your lips, tasting the sweetness of the hookah all over again.

you knew when TOJI bought himself a cigar, it meant one of two things: either he was in an unusually good mood, or there was some extra cash to burn. and you weren’t about to deny him his little vice, even if you didn’t love the smell of it. it wasn’t like he smoked cigars every day, after all.

he lounged on the couch, the thick, earthy smell of the cigar curling in the air around him. “gimme a kiss,” he mumbled through the cigar, his voice low and lazy, the words barely audible over the haze of smoke.

you frowned, glancing at the cigar still hanging between his lips. “toji, can’t you at least finish that first?” you complained, waving your hand in front of your face to clear some of the smoke.

he rolled his eyes, taking the cigar out of his mouth for a moment. “stop fussin’. c’mon, get over here.”

before you could argue, his hand was on you, fingers gripping your waist and pulling you in close. you barely had time to protest before his lips crashed against yours. the taste was immediate and overpowering — strong, bitter, earthy. the flavor clung to his mouth, rich and smoky, and it filled yours as his tongue invaded your mouth without hesitation.

“toji —” you tried to pull back, but he only deepened the kiss, his tongue pushing further, rough lips moving against yours with a messy urgency. his breath was thick with smoke, and the cigar’s pungent scent was almost suffocating. it clung to him, to his clothes, to every inch of space around you.

“tastes good, doesn’t it?” he murmured against your lips, his smirk evident even through the kiss. his lips moved to your jaw, then down to your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. each kiss was sloppy, wet, the taste of smoke and bitter tobacco lingering on your skin as he dragged his tongue along your throat. “didn’t hear ya complainin’ now.”

you squirmed slightly in his grip, your head spinning from the intensity of the taste and the sensation of his lips on your skin. “toji, it’s — ugh, it’s too strong,” you protested, pushing at his chest lightly. but he didn’t budge. instead, his arm tightened around your waist, keeping you firmly in place on his lap.

“you’ll get used to it,” he muttered, taking another long drag from the cigar before blowing the smoke out slowly, deliberately, right in front of your face. “now stop whining, yeah? just kiss me.”

you groaned softly, torn between wanting to pull away and giving in to the dizzying combination of his rough kisses and the strong, smoky aftertaste that lingered in your mouth. the smoke was so thick it felt like it was inside you, clinging to your tongue and lips even as he kissed you again, sloppily, his lips moving against yours in an almost overwhelming rhythm.

“see? not so bad, huh?” he teased, pulling back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips. “still think i should finish the cigar first?”

you shook your head, dazed from the taste and the way his lips had practically devoured you. “you’re impossible,” you muttered, but the way his hands roamed your body, keeping you pinned against him, had you too flustered to argue further.

he chuckled lowly, leaning in to press another open-mouthed kiss to your neck, the smoky scent now permanently etched into your senses. “nah, you love it,” he murmured, his voice smug as ever, his lips trailing back up to claim yours once more.

GETO’s idea of a perfect date night wasn’t fancy dinners or movie nights. no, for him, it was simpler — just a bottle, a bowl, and some weed. the process itself was almost meditative for him, and it filled him with pride when he saw the way your eyes lit up with curiosity as he sat cross-legged, calmly constructing the bong. his hands moved with practiced ease, carefully assembling each piece — filling the bottle with just enough water, making sure the bowl was secure, and showing you how to pack the weed tightly. “you plug it here,” he explained, guiding your hands with his, “and then inhale slowly.” his voice was always so steady, but tonight, there was a hint of anticipation as he showed you the ropes.

it didn’t take long before the two of you felt the effects creeping in, your bodies growing heavier as you both lay back on the soft mat spread out in your bedroom floor. the earthy, herbal smell of the weed lingered in the air, a little pungent, but somehow comforting in the dim light of the room. the soft glow of the led lights cast a calming atmosphere, making the entire scene feel surreal as you both stared up at the ceiling, giggling at nothing in particular.

“you’re really pretty,” geto mumbled, his voice slower, softer than usual. his words dragged a little, the high hitting him just enough to make his movements feel sluggish. he lifted his body up slowly, moving to cage you beneath him, his long hair falling over his shoulders as his dark eyes met yours, glazed with a soft haze.

you giggled in return, your body relaxed and pliant beneath him, making no effort to push him off. the way he looked at you with that sleepy, soft expression made your heart skip a beat. “you’re not so bad yourself,” you teased lightly, reaching up to brush some of his hair back from his face.

he didn’t respond with words. instead, he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, but not quite kissing you yet. his tongue was the first to make contact, a slow, lazy swipe against yours, and for a moment, you were just staring at each other with half-lidded eyes, the two of you sharing that quiet, intimate moment. his mouth felt slightly more hydrated from the water-filtered smoke of the bong, but the familiar smoky taste still clung to his breath, mixing with the sweetness of the weed.

finally, his lips crashed into yours, the kiss slow and sensual, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he groaned softly against you. the warmth of his body pressed against yours, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him closer. the pressure made him grunt, his hands gripping your waist as he kissed you with more intent, his movements lazy but filled with desire.

the taste of smoke lingered on his breath as he kissed you deeply, the earthy flavor filling your mouth and making your head spin just a little more. his body was heavy, but you didn’t mind — it felt like you were sinking into him, the two of you melting into the haze of the moment, surrounded by the smell of weed and the warmth of his skin.

“you’re everything,” he murmured against your lips, his words slightly slurred as his hand traced slow, lazy circles along your side, pulling you impossibly closer.

“your mouth’s kinda dry, taku,” you tease, straddling his lap and running your fingers through his hair. you knew exactly why — cottonmouth from smoking weed. he’d lit up before coming over to your place, and now his lips and mouth felt dry, making each kiss feel rougher than usual.

TAKUMA smirks, his eyes heavy-lidded and lazy, his entire body relaxed against the couch. “spit in it then,” he says with a grin, voice low and teasing.

“you serious?” you ask, raising a brow, slightly taken aback by the request. but there’s something about the way he says it, his tone dripping with lazy confidence, that makes you consider it.

“dead serious,” he mutters, punctuating his words with a firm squeeze to your ass, his hand gripping you hard enough to make you squeal. his smirk only widens, his gaze burning into yours, daring you to do it.

you bite your lip, trying to hold back a giggle, but the way he’s looking at you, all hazy and laid back, makes you want to give in. “fine,” you mutter playfully, gripping his chin between your fingers as his mouth falls open obediently, his tongue outstretched. you let a thick glob of spit fall onto his tongue, watching it pool there before he swallows, his lips curling into a satisfied grin.

before you can say anything else, he’s pulling you back into another kiss. this time, it’s slower but wetter, the spit helping ease the dryness from the weed. his lips still carry that earthy, herbal flavor, mixed with the tobacco wrap of the blunt he’d smoked earlier. the taste is strong — pungent and skunky from the weed, mixed with the sweet, smoky flavor of the cigarillo wrap. it clings to his breath, lingering on your tongue as you kiss him deeply.

the smell of the weed is overwhelming, clinging to his clothes and his hair, a strong, almost musky scent that fills the air around you both. it’s thick in the air, almost as if you can taste it just from breathing. you can feel how relaxed and mellow he is from the weed, his movements slow and lazy as his hands roam over your body, gripping you firmly but without any rush. it’s clear he’s in no hurry to end this moment.

you break the kiss for just a second to catch your breath, but takuma’s lips follow yours instantly, whining softly in protest as you pull away. “no, don’t stop,” he mumbles against your mouth, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he pulls you closer, keeping you locked in place on his lap. “feels too good.”

you smile against his lips, the taste of smoke still lingering between you both. “you’re such a brat,” you tease, but you don’t stop kissing him. his breath is still warm, still heavy with the pungent mix of weed and tobacco, and his lips are just a little softer now, but the kiss is no less intense.

thank you all for 5OO followers, here is a little treat. i had this idea lying around for a while and finally got to work to it on seeing @/sugoroo's loserboy, plug sukuna fic `(*>﹏<*)′ make sure to check out her work too!

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[mellowwillowy]

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐞 ♥

⤷ Synopsis: You should never eat what a mafia ringleader had for you, but your husband accepted it nonetheless. What could go wrong with a box of chocolate?

⤷ warnings — Aphrodisiac Sex, GN Reader, general yandere warnings

⤷ Ask: Well well smut fics??😏, reader accidentally eating a chocolate that has aphrodisiac in it and literally aching for yulian, so...ofc yulian helped reader♿🛐,make readers leg suffer,thank you!

"'s hot inside me... dear..." You whined at your husband as you grind your crotch against his hand, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as his eyes watched the sweat forming on your forehead dripped down.

His fingers slightly grazed your clothed sex on its own before his lip hungrily devoured yours as he caged you on the wall– tongue feeling the insides of your mouth while whining at how your tongue tangled with his, a fight for dominance.

"Dear... fuck- don't... don't tease- me!"

He was trying his best to withhold himself, to not accidentally make you unable to stand again after hours of forcing orgasms upon orgasms on you. The aphrodisiac, that damned chocolate that Kaspar bought for him! He didn't expect you to be the one who ate it at all!

"Try this pal', bet your spouse will fall head over heel on you."

It was supposed to be him who ate it right? Or did he mean you instead? Either way, you eating without him noticing it earlier was already a problem. He really didn't want to screw up again, but the sight of you being so needy, it's driving him nuts.

"Fuck- alright, what else can I do?"

Yulian was a man of etiquettes and seeing him hissed with curses was a rare sight alas pleasing. He started by loosening the tie to his shirt as his hand slipped into your underwear, fingers working skillfully while feeling your needy sex.

"O-oh! The-there!"

You couldn't even form a proper word anymore, just by him touching you directly, a wet patch formed on the fabric that clothed your crotch. Tonight will be a wild ride, you thought to yourself. Yulian carried you with both his arms, striding toward your shared bedroom.

There, he placed you gently on the bed before undressing you, allowing you to finally breathe- free from the suffocating clothes that prevented you from rubbing your skin against him. As though unable to bottle his arousal anymore, Yulian hastily undressed but his lip never left yours, always connected with you in one way or another.

Did he perhaps get the aphrodisiac effect from the kiss you two shared? Just why was his mind so clouded with you? His cock ached for attention but he knew better, he had to make your thighs choke him tight as he made you moan like a bitch in heat.

He hoped the men he stationed around you were smart enough to leave before he slammed their heads hard onto the concrete wall, permanently damaging their hearing. No one gets to hear you like this except him and he will ensure it.

Finger sinking into your hole, assisted by the fluid you produced as a lube- he explored your insides in excitement, he knew exactly where to go in order to feel that one spot that never fails to make you raise your hip and grind against his curled fingers.

"There there, good. Feeling good?"

You nodded, evident by how tears pooled in your eyes, it was too much but addicting nonetheless. Was it the aphrodisiac or had it always been him who made you squirm like this?

"More," You whined out, "I want more of you~ need you to feel me inside out~!" Had it not been for the aphrodisiac, you wouldn't have begged this pathetically. You should thank it for not making you bury your face into the pillow and ass up for him to take for granted!

Yulian swallowed the lump inside his throat before gently caressing your face with his other hand, the other still curling inside of you, "My dearest," he said while peppering your face with kisses, "shouldn't say something like that."

Just before the cold could hit your body, his words made the heat inside you burn even more.

"Is it not natural for me to perform that duty? This is a husband's duty."

Head practically buried in your sex, making you jolt from the sudden intrusion. Yulian is a man of word and you bet your whole fortune that tonight will be the night when your thighs will shake from all the orgasms that he forced his way into you.

"I don't think my dearest can get even a wink of sleep tonight, yeah?"

Sleep would be nothing but a luxury of being away from this man's never-ending stamina. You could picture it, all the poses the two of you would be using tonight. Even better, you saw it.

You saw Yulian unwrapped the chocolate that you ate. It was his client's gift so what harm could come from eating it? And yet it had you shaking in arousal, needy of your husband's touch and kisses. Now that he had eaten it, would it have the same reaction on him as well?

"Hmm," Yulian licked his fingers clean before staring back at you, "now we both feel the same, be it pain or pleasure, I am dying to feel what you are feeling dear."

Yulian is a man of words. Can you imagine how much pain he was in just to feel how you were tortured repeatedly until the two of you reunited?

"Now," Yulian lined his mouth back to your sex, "enough talking and more action now, shall we?" He offered his hand for you to hold, linking the two of you as a form of solace even amidst lust.

"Want you to gush your sweet nectar all over me."

He started to feel your sex with his tongue, hand working diligently, "Want you to shake in pleasure until you can't stand," he starts rutting his cock against the bedsheet, did the aphrodisiac finally take effect?

"Want you to take me really well after these."

And you won the bet. You, folded into a mating press position. You, face buried into the pillow with your ass clapping against his pelvic bone. You, pressed against the wall while your legs circled his waist. You, in a classic yet loving missionary, watching how drop-dead gorgeous your husband was, his emerald orbs never failed to drown you in love with him.

And so were your eyes to him. Your tongue lolled out, eyes crossed out while sweat glistened the two of you. It was damp despite the cold air that surrounded you.

And yet the two of you wished this could somehow just last for eternity.

Never mind about giving Kaspar an earful, he'd just shrug it off for making the two of you share yet another lustful yet passionate night.

"I love you, dear."

[hellisharchive]

﹒﹒﹒the orginal dick

▶ Adam was not who you expected him to be as the first man, you expected someone prim and perfect and can do no wrong. He was far from that, and quite frankly kind of an asshole. You hated him- so why did you agree to a one night stand?

▶ Adam x fem!reader

▶ 18+, virgin reader, fingering [r receiving], oral [r receiving], pnv, Adam calls reader "Babe", "Baby, and "Bitch"

▶ adam masterlist | ao3 link

You arrived in Heaven a few days ago and it was amazing. Everything was perfect, no crime, no abuse, everything was bliss. The strictness of rules didn't get past your radar though, makes sense though, Heaven was no place for terrible people. What you didn't understand though, is how much of an asshole Adam was. He was the very first human ever created and ascended to heaven, so why was he allowed to swear and talk sexually like there was no tomorrow? He seemed to be the only one allowed to do so, anyone else was quieted or given consequences. Maybe because of him being the first human gave him the right? You didn't know, but didn't care.

You never personally talked to him, preferring to stay as far away from him as possible just so he never would start up a conversation with you. Besides, he was always with Lute, those two were inseparable. Honestly, you thought they were together. You asked a few others who knew him and they all said that those two were a friends-with-benefits situation- at least from what they assumed. You don't know why you cared so much, he was such a rude guy, you hated him.

So why was he walking directly towards you on the Promenade while you were chatting with your new friend? About him nonetheless. Did you somehow summon him from that? You didn't even realize until they told you and pointed behind you. Your eyes went wide as they asked why he was coming over and you answered honestly. You didn't know why. He had a smug look on his face as he approached you, only then did you realize that Lute wasn't around. Wait, where was she? What's going on? Were you in trouble?

"Heya newbie, heard ya asking about me and Lute, really if ya wanted to fuck me could have just asked, Baby" Now panicking, your face burned as you waved your hands, denying that you ever asked about him. Why would you want to ever have sex with him? He's such an asshole. Wait, how did he know? Damn, those bastards must have told him. Even in heaven you can't trust anyone without it coming back to bite you in the ass

"No I didnt! And I certainly do not want to do that with you no way!" You were so flustered, why so flustered? Anyone hitting on you that you didn't find attractive made you feel disgusting, never flustered and warm. God- were you really finding the idea of fucking Adam hot? No, you were just a virgin who never got laid when they were alive so this is just too much, yeah that must be it. The angel just chuckled and smirked, he was such a bitch.

"Mhm sure Babe, why so flustered huh? C'mon admit it, you want a piece of THE Adam, THE first man, THE original dick. I see you avoiding me, don't think I don't. I know it's because I get ya worked up, don't I?" He suddenly leaned directly in front of your face, only being a few inches away. The close distance made you look over at your new friend, they just looked awkwardly and shrugged, not knowing how to help. Gulping, you turned back to him and took a deep breath.

"As if, in your dreams" You rolled your eyes and started to move away, feigning confidence, as on the inside you were shaking like a leaf. Before you could get far though, he wrapped his hand around your arm and pulled you back up to him, putting his free hand on your other arm. He held you close, so close you two were mixing open mouth breaths.

"Let me show you a good time Babe, you're a hot piece of ass I don't wanna pass up. And don't think I haven't noticed you staring at me too, you were practically eye fucking me!" Oh god, he really did notice every single thing about you? You thought he wasn't even paying attention to you as you stared at him, ok admittedly maybe you stared at him too much, but you hated him. Taking another gulp, you considered his offer. The fact that you were considering his offer at all concerned you, but maybe you should let go a little, get laid, you could say you fucked the first ever man in existence at least. Hyping yourself up, you said yes.

"Fine. BUT, only for one night. This will not become a normal thing! That is- if you're even good" The way his eyes lit up as he laughed from glee, screaming "yes" as he pumped a fist. He was such a child, you thought.

"You are going to have the BEST night of your life Toots, trust me. You will LOOOVE it, you'll be begging for me to fuck you every-" he leaned closer "single" and closer "night" and he leaned up and whispered in your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Fuck- did that really arouse you? He didn't even do anything besides insist he was a good fuck and say you were hot unprompted. You hated him, he should not be making you feel this way. Pushing him away slightly, he "whooped" again and flew up in excitement, reminding you why you hated him. He acted like such a child, it was annoying. Coming back down, he smirked and got closer to you get again. He has no sense of personal boundaries, does he?

"You won't regret it Babes. My place. Tonight at dawn. Don't be late" Winking, he started to walk away when you realized you had no idea where his place was.

"Wait uh...where do you live?" You hated asking, hating you agreed to this ridiculous bet. He explained where it was and said he would have Lute bring you over. You make sure to say no at least ten times as that would be incredibly awkward. Sure, they fuck casually and aren't in a relationship, but its still not something you want to get directly involved with Lute for. But, he left and said to wait right here for her, leaving you alone with your new friend.

"Dude! You got a date with Adam!" They smiled and nudged your shoulder, ignoring the fact that you were processing the entire interaction and that it was happening tonight. Wait, what should you wear? No- this wasn't a date, it was just a hook up, that's all. Shaking your head, you looked back at them trying to calm down.

"Ok first of all, it isn't a date. It's just a one-night stand. There will be no other associations with him past tonight, ok? Besides, he's been...with Lute anyways so" Shrugging, you slowly start to calm your nerves or at least act like everything is fine.

"Wait...you're jealous, aren't you?" They excitedly exclaimed, causing you to grab onto their shoulders and shush them. You? Jealous? As if! This was just a quick fuck- you hated his guts, but couldn't resist knowing what sex with him was actually like.

"No, I am absolutely not. You know how much I hate him" You made sure to express your hatred every time you saw him, because you wanted them to know.

"Yeah, you've only been here for four days yet you don't shut up about him" They smirked, which caused your face to get hot again. Ok...maybe they did have a point. But it was all in hatred, not in thinking he's attractive in any way. Before you could argue this though, they seemingly read your mind.

"And no, if you think because you complain about him, it's denial" That was practically a slap in your face as you mulled over your time here since the first day. Could it really just be denial? But he was a huge asshole and very "college frat boy" to you. Did you really find him attractive and just didn't want to admit it?

"No it is not denial- I really do hate him. This is just to make him go away permanently" You convinced yourself, at least in the eyes of your friend, that there is no shred of attraction for Adam. How could there be? Any normal response to something like that would be to be flustered after all, taking about being fucked. But then again, it was unwarranted, so why did you kind of enjoy it? No- you're just being stupid. Did you already forget that you were in Heaven? This stuff would most likely cast you out of for this- but if Adam can act like this, why can't you?

"Ok then, fine, be in denial. But tell me, are you going to abandon this opportunity to get with the very first man ever created?" Sighing, you said no and told them you had to prepare for tonight as dawn was only come in a few hours and you had to mentally psych yourself up for it. They rolled their eyes playfully and said they'd meet up with you tomorrow so you can tell them everything. Heading to your new home, you mentally prepared yourself for this very unexpected night and trying not to worry about your friend calling it a "date".

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was dawn and your nerves were through the roof. Walking out to the Promenade again, a few were still out and about, but you stood in the exact same place he approched you earlier. Nervously twiddling your thumbs, you realized that there shouldn't be nervous or anxious- this was Heaven, everything was perfect and worry free. Was Adam already affecting you this badly? You didn't know how long it was until the familiar view of Lute walking down with an expression you couldn't decipher.

"Come with me" She spoke monotone, face unreadable, was she upset? I mean- it's not like they're actually a couple, unless she has some unrequited feelings? You were nervous as she weaved you through the various streets- some familiar and some not- and only then you realized that she was taking you to the center of Heaven. It didn't shock you- Adam was the first man in existence after all and the first human soul in Heaven. It made you nervous though, as you've never been there before. The only other beings that lived there was mainly Heavenborn. Nothing was spoken between you two until she pulled you close when you were in the hallway, a few feet away from the door.

"If you even THINK about hurting him- I will find you and cast you out of Heaven myself. Got it?" All you could do was nod as she shoved you to the door and then walked away. Taking a deep breath in, you exhaled slowly and knocked before you could walk away. A few seconds passed before the door was practically thrown open with a very excited Adam smiling at you.

"Fucking finally Babe! Took ya long enough. Let's get to fucking now" You gasped as he wasted no time and rushed you to his bedroom. Throwing you on his bed, he ripped off his mask and before you can process what his real face looked like- smashed his lips against yours, pinning you to the mattress with one hand- capturing you with your hands above your head- and the other at your sides. You didn't kiss back at first because it was so sudden, but then you started to kiss back. His huge garbs only pinned you down further as he started running his hands underneath your shirt. You lost track of time so you didn't know how long it was before he pulled back, panting heavily, you look at him as he stared at you with a hungry expression. He licked his lips as he looked at you like you were his prey, and he was the predator. Only then, you finally managed to see his face. He had short, brown hair, a stubble, and gold eyes. He was attractive even under the mask.

"Take..." You spoke quietly, not used to being the assertive one and too nervous to take action. Looking to the side you still felt unsure about all of this, I mean, you barely had action down on Earth. And this was Adam, first man, one of the head Angels, and he was just violently making out with you. You then felt his hand pry away from your chest and he grabbed your chin and lifted up your head to meet his.

"Take what, Bitch? You gotta tell me what you want" He smirked with a smug face as your face grew hot, you really did not want to say it. But...fuck it, right? This night was only for one night, might as well make it count.

"Take off your clothes" The burst of confidence was a surprise to you, but it pleased Adam very much as he kissed you again, but this time, it was a little softer than before.

"There it is, that's what I like to hear from Bitches I'm fucking" In no time, he stripped himself down to just his underwear- maybe to not fully overwhelm you at once? Your heart beat faster as you stared at his very hard dick covered by cloth, shit, this was really happening.

"Now let me take off your clothes, shits been annoying me for AGES. Your body is too hot to cover up" Only then what he was saying hit you like a train- did he really find you attractive even before? This entire time? He was just the one who wanted to let you make a move first? You let Adam fully undress you like he did you until you were just in your underwear. Gulping, you looked up as he pulled you into a sitting postion and crawled on top of your lap, running his hands up your arms as he started to kiss your neck. You could already feel yourself starting to get worked up- you tried to hold it in but a small moan escaped your mouth. Then, his hands drifted downwards- down to your underwear. He slips it under, lightly touching your clit, which caused you to jump from the sudden feeling.

"Damn Bitch, I barely fucking did anything and you're already fucking SOAKED. I'm gonna have a fun time with you tonight oh my fucking god" He laughed at the end as he started to gently prod your entrance and you shook in anticipation. Before you knew it- he pushed his finger in little by little, causing you to squirm from the intrusion. Whining, you felt it thrust in and out as the first man started to kiss and lap at your neck. He then added a second, causing you to moan and grab onto his back.

"You're definitely a fucking virgin aren't you? HA, don't think I can't tell Baby, I've fucked many before you and can tell when someone has or hasn't got a good dicking" His words cut though like a knife- of course he could tell, of course he's fucked countless of other people with how he behaves. You aren't special and will never be. That thought ended up being forgotten though, as he pulled out his now wet fingers covered in your juices, the feeling of being empty caused you to squirm again. He held up his slick appendages with his classic smug look before shoving them in his mouth. Making sure to lick them clean, he took them out of his mouth with a 'pop!'.

"Fucking delicious. Fuck I gotta taste the real thing" Adam got off of you and pulled up to the end of the bed, getting on his knees, he got closer to your crotch and you helped him take off your underwear. Feeling the air hit your pussy made you nervous as you were now almost fully naked for him and he was about to eat you out. Leaning back, you weren't ready as he dove in without wasting any time, you could feel his tounge enter you as he sucked on your clit. Moaning, you shook as he ate you out like he hasn't had anything to eat in a month. It felt so good, feeling his tongue wiggle inside you as he nipped on your clit, fuck.

"Adaaaaam..." You whined, now squirming, you felt the familiar pool of heat in your stomach as he sudeenlt latched onto your thighs, and he held them tight. Leaving your pussy, you watched as his face was covered in the slick juices as he stared at you with a slightly annoying expression.

"Stay still Bitch, kinda hard to eat you out when you're moving around" You just nodded in a slightly dazed state, not wanting to feel put off by his attitude. But, he went back down for seconds and you tried to stay still, even if it was incredibly hard. Everytime you made a sudden jerk, he gripped your thighs tighter. You couldn't resist as you couldn't grip the bedding very well, you rushed up to his hair and yanked on it, holding it so tightly. He moaned- you made him moan! He must have liked it, you had no time to think about it though as he just went deeper into you, causing you to moan his name again. After a few minutes, the feelings of arousal kept growing and the feelings in your stomach was too much to bare. You moaned out his name as you orgasmed, shaking as he wiped his face and licked up his mess. Standing up, he smirked as he pushed you down on the mattress again, caging you in. You just stared at him with wide eyes as you caught your breath.

"Damn, I knew you were a virgin but this is almost pathetic! Ha! Don't worry Bitch, it's time for you to be skewered by the original dick" Yanking off his underwear now, you couldn't see his dick very well, but you knew it couldn't have been small. Sliding you back so he had more room, he lifted up one of your legs and used his other hand to guide his cock to your entrance. Biting your lip, you stared up at him, still nervous that this was the one who took your virginity- in Heaven nonetheless. When he had the tip ready to plunge in, he looked up at you with a smirk, however, it quickly softened up even if just a little. Rubbing his hand on your leg, he wanted to make you feel...safe?

"Hey, if you're not up for it you don't gotta bang me yet Bitch. You can still back out now- even if you did scream my name like...twenty times" He must have seen your face and mistook it for being scared, which in all honesty you were, but that didn't mean you didn't want it. Reaching up to hold his face, you gave him the most genuine smile you could manage.

"No, no, I do want this I just...it's my first time, ya know?" He was the biggest manwhore around, he probably fucked thousands upon thousands of people in the past, he definitely fucked virgins before. Why did you even care? Why would HE care if you were nervous?

"Yeah, I get it Baby. I may have the best fucking dick in all existence, but I'm not into forcing others if they don't want it because that shit? Isn't cool. Unless they want to be forced- then that's hot as fuck. So, I am going to ask you" He leaned closer and his mouth was right next to your ear. "Do you want to be fucked into oblivion by the original dick? I need a yes or no Babe" His reassurance made you calm down as he could have just not cared like a lot of guys on Earth would. However, he made you shiver with his whispering and you nodded your head in agreement. He raised an eyebrow before you quickly sputtered out a "yes" and he smirked.

"Get ready for the BEST fucking night of your life. And welcome to Heaven, Bitch" The feeling of his dick entering your vagina was uncomfortable but not painful, he was being careful. Your breathing got heavier as he pushed in further, the feeling of being full wasn't unfamiliar as you fucked with toys as a human, but he was bigger than any dildo or vibrator you used. Whining the entire time as he slowly made you get used to him into you, you squirmed and grabbed his hair again and tugged. He moaned and growled and fuck it was hot.

"Fuck, keep doing that Babe and I'll fuck you so hard you'll have to stay in bed this entire week" He then bottomed out, fully pushing inside you until he couldn't no more. You screamed and your eyes started to water. Whining, you stared at the first man as he leaned down and gave you another passionate kiss as he started to thrust in and out. Moaning loudly, the sensations of his cock being dragged back and forth inside you was just too much- he was slow to help you ease into it. You tugged on his hair again and closed your eyes which made him push harder into you.

"Fuck!" Adam increased the pace and you felt the feelings of an orgasm creep up again the longer and harder he fucked you. You then felt his lips on yours as he kissed you again and you kissed back. It was too much- you broke away and screamed his name as you shook even more than the first time. You felt his cum leak into you as you spaced out, breathing heavily falling back on the bed. You stared up at the ceiling as you felt his cock exit you, causing you to cletch your now-empty vagina at the feeling. You couldn't even think right now- all you knew was that he was the real deal.

"Told you you'd have the best fucking night of your life Baby" You couldn't even respond as you were truly that far gone. You heard him laugh awkwardly and swear as he said he would be right back and you were too fucked out to care or fully process what that meant. Sometime later he came back, gently lifting you up into a sitting postion, he pressed a warm and wet rag to your nether regions and started to clean you up. His hesitance and awkward strokes makes it obvious he never did much aftercare, so why was he doing for you?

"I really fucked your brains out, huh? Well...stay the night with me, ok?" You looked at him with a shocked expression, who wouldn't? Half the time he spoke about the person he fucked like it was another casual day, he doesn't have time for his fuck to stay over and him and Lute are just sex with no intimate feelings attached.

"You haven't said a fucking word in what? Ten minutes? Just stay with me because I don't even think you can fucking walk right now, it's nothing special. I was right and you were wrong. Now get in bed Bitch, I'll wake you up tomorrow morning" You had no room to argue, still mentally out of it- you crawl back and into the covers. You were having trouble because your body was throughly fucked, so luckily Adam swooped in and helped you get comfortable. Laying on your side with a pillow between your legs, you were too tired to fully process that he wrapped around you and was swooning you.

"Goodnight Baby, see you tomorrow morning" You didn't register the small kiss he gave to the crown of your head as you fell asleep and had the best sleep of your life.

[temis-de-leon]

Shy gn!reader confesses to the Demon Brothers

Characters: Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo and Beel (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

Part 1 , Part 3 , Dateables version

Anon request: Could I request headcanons for Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, and Beelzebub, react to shy gn crush confessing to him nervously?

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A/N: life became hard for 4 full days and writer's block hit me with the power of a thousand suns. Then I went to therapy and I immediately started writing. Here it is, folks, 1899 words.

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Mammon

There’s no doubt that Mammon loves to have fun. Either counting money at casinos or wildly drinking and dancing at various clubs, the sight of him with the occasional fling by his side is not a strange one for the demon folk.

He doesn’t look for it; it’s not like he needs to, anyway. After all, who wouldn’t like to be with The Great Mammon? He’s a catch!

But no, it isn’t something he needs to feel good. His heart beats for one thing and one thing only: money. Gold sparkling on his fingers and coins filling his pockets, what else is there to live for?

His brothers would never understand him. When Beel empties the kitchen it’s cute, but when he steals Levi’s figurines, Asmo’s jewellery and Lucifer’s wallet suddenly it’s a problem.

And what’s his punishment? Taking care of a dumb, weak, boring human.

You better leave him alone, MC! He’s a very important demon and he has very important things to do! Don’t you listen to what his brothers say about him! Listen only to him!

Also, pay him attention and ignore the others! He’s so much better, you know? Can’t you see by now? He wishes you did and he isn’t sure how he feels about it.

The pang in his chest, his reddened cheeks and his avoidant gaze aren’t things he’s used to, but they become the norm once he spends more time with you.

Enduring his brothers’ jokes and taunts is humiliating and he perfectly knows he would act the same if he wasn’t the one involved, but damn MC, why do you have to be the way you are? Why are you so easy to fall in love with?

You have to feel the same, right? With your stammering and your bashfulness, you have to feel the same.

Mammon thanks his Father when you invite him to your room out of the blue and blurt out your feelings. The situation is ridiculous, he’s sweating buckets and your hands won’t stop shaking.

He tries to confess back without directly saying he loves you.

Key word ‘tries’.

Leviathan

Love is not for him, or rather, he’s not made for love.

That’s just who he is. A shut-in who finds companionship in fiction, in the idealization of friendship, romance and loyalty. His expectations are set way to high, near long opening titles and uninterrupted rambles, and he doesn’t expect people to reach them. Is he even worth the effort?

He has internet friends who he met through online gaming and forums and he cherishes them very much, but it makes him feel lonely and insecure sometimes. What type of life do they have when they’re not gaming or role playing or just talking on video calls with him? Do they act like plain old normies, taking their partners out on dates or having lunch with their classmates after class?

He prefers not to think about it.

Your arrival to the Devildom doesn’t change his life at all. He’s curious, sure, but what are the chances of you sharing his interests? Also, you quickly become friends with Mammon, which says enough about yourself.

At least, that’s what he thinks at the beginning. Time passes, as well as the TSL quiz, and he immediately realizes that you’re not who he thought you were.

There’s no judgement in your eyes whenever he rants about the latest piece of media he has consumed, instead filled with curiosity and fascination; and not only you’re the sole person in the house that doesn’t make fun of him, but you also defend him against his brothers.

His romantic feelings for you grow strong and fast, but your friendship is what’s most important for him.

You’re so, so much better than what he initially thought, even when you remind him of himself sometimes.

The glint in your bashful gaze, the doubt in your words in search of the right ones and the everlasting fidgeting with your fingers. You are the perfect romantic interest from the perfect otome game and he can’t believe how lucky he is to be the main character.

When you finally confess to him under the comfort of the blue lights of his aquarium, you’re barely able to finish your sentences while looking at him, which in reality is a blessing, because he can’t bring himself to look at you either when he confesses back.

It’s awkward, but sweet. Kind of like him.

Satan

Romance is for him what a painting is to the viewer. A novel to the reader.

He understands the significance, the words, the colours. What the creator wants to portray and what the consumer interprets. Narrative rules, the significance of flowers, metaphors, history… All of that mixed with the abstract of the mind.

He understands.

He just doesn’t feel it. Not at its full potential, at least.

There had been partners in his life, years ago, and he knows he’d loved them, but he wasn’t in love with them. Whatever line kept him from going forward with his feelings is what made him stop trying alone.

Books and cats and the Anti Lucifer League are enough for him to be occupied. They also make him happy, so his views on romantic love are easily set aside.

He doesn’t think much of you at the beginning, mainly because he doesn’t expect you to last very long, but you quickly show an amount of potential he’s ready to exploit.

Diavolo dreams of unifying the three realms and Lucifer would do anything to not spoil those plans, so what better way to annoy his brother than through you?

It’s selfish and reckless and of course his eagerness screws the whole thing up, but it ultimately helps him realize he shouldn’t have underestimated you.

You are kind, brave and smart. You see him beyond his wrath and his academic knowledge, remembering him even in the smallest of details that surround you. It was such care and affection that made his feelings grow.

For the first time in his very long life he starts to relate to the characters in his books, his heartbeat increasing when the scenarios feel too familiar or when the dialogues replicate exactly what he yearns to say to you.

It’s thanks to his novels that he recognizes your feelings. The shy and endearing romantic interest quietly approaching the main lead, confession learnt by memory.

His first reaction is to be surprised. He doesn’t expect something like this to happen to him, let alone you being the one to reciprocate his feelings. How much luckier could he be?

Asmodeus

What better love exists than the one he feels for himself? He’s beautiful, charming, adorable, addictive and every other compliment in the book. He can’t get enough of them!

He’s obsessed with the idea of being surrounded by people, by their affections and their devotions, touching him, looking at him, singing him praises. Unfortunately for everyone else, his narcissistic tendencies only grow when those that fall under his charm feed into his “delusions”.

That’s how Mammon calls it, at least.

At the time of receiving, he doesn’t distinguish between romantic love and sexual attraction, although it’s more difficult for him to reciprocate the first one.

Deep down, hidden amongst his insecurities, Asmo believes no one would love him for his truest self. That’s why he insists on looking perfect at all times, following a strict sleep schedule and a well-balanced diet, going out to remain in everyone’s minds; always a trending topic, a sensation.

If his outstanding physique and impeccable personality aren’t enough for you to know he’s the best amongst his brothers, then his charm would do the work.

But it doesn’t.

When he purposefully makes eye contact there’s no sign of you falling for his magic and, suddenly, he finds himself at a loss of words.

He doesn’t panic too much, given that he is still a beautiful and powerful demon that could devour you in a second, but knowing that there’s no barrier between the two of you to protect his vulnerability gives him an unpleasant feeling of exposure.

Surprisingly enough, it’s also your resistance to his powers what centers his attention on you. You’re one of the very few people that knows him as he is, even with the ugly parts, and it doesn’t take too long for his affections to become obvious and somewhat desperate.

Asmo is elated when your behaviour around him changes. He recognizes the pattern, since he’s seen it many times in his fans, and he can’t believe that someone who’s seen him at his worst still considers him as beautiful as those who have only seen what he wanted to show.

Although you don’t really need to confess, due to him immediately wanting to be with you, hearing your feelings spoken out loud sends his heart into a frenzy rhythm.

The attention fuels his ego, sure, but it’s the veracity of your words what makes him want to cry out of happiness.

Beelzebub

He’s not really interested in relationships. There is a fling here or there, sure, he still has other type of urges, but he hardly thinks about it.

The feeling of emptiness follows him around like a metal ball and chain and the only consumption that can give him relief, even if temporarily, comes only in the form of food.  

He’s often seen as emotionless or famished and, although he knows he’s popular amongst many students, his height and muscles make him look too intimidating to engage further than necessary.

It isn’t something that bothers him at all. His love goes straight to his family and there’s nothing food can’t fix.

However, when he is told Belphie is the demon chosen for the student exchange program, the hole inside of him grows deeper and deeper. His urges go on a rampage and Lucifer has to give him a pep talk to drill into his brain how important it is that you are to remain uneaten.

It’s not like he’s very interested in you anyways, so leaving you alone doesn’t feel like a draining task.

Of course that changes when you physically put yourself between him and Lucifer. A stupid, idiotic, reckless decision that serves to prove how brave you are.

Your friendship quickly blossoms after that and, unlike many other people, you start seeing him beyond his hunger. That makes him cherish you even further, but it’s your dedication to helping his family what sparks a romantic interest in you.

Since he’s not that experienced in that regard, it feels a little intimidating, but you make it seem easy and effortless. The both of you are equally shy in your affections and there’s a mutual unsaid understanding that helps you build the base of a relationship, so the confession isn’t really necessary.

Still, hearing you say the words makes his heart flutter.

His response is short and blunt, but sweet in nature. He is blushing the whole time, not breaking eye contact with you, and for the first time in many years, he feels completely satisfied.

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Tagged: @darkflowerav

[fettuccin-e]

Flying to New Heights

Summary: A flight delay means you're spending your night at the hotel bar, praying for sleep to come to you. Instead, a certain Captain Francisco Morales shows up, tall and broad and far too tempting. With undeniable attraction burning between you, you can't help the way you fall right into his arms.

A/N: Alright! I know it's been a while, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Life has gotten a tad crazy, but the Frankie thirst never stops okay? And this AU has been buzzing in my head for a little while now, so I just needed to get it out there. I hope y'all enjoy the porn. (dividers are by the lovely @saradika-graphics!)

Tags: Frankie Morales x Reader, Commercial Pilot!Frankie, Flight attendant!reader, afab!fem!reader, alcohol consumption but barely, this is essentially an excuse for porn so, oral and fingering(r!recieving), unprotected piv (pls wrap it up I'm begging you), Francisco Morales and his dirty mouth have struck again (w/c: 4.2K)

You love your job, you really do. Deciding to actually train to be a flight attendant was one of the best decisions of your life. Gone were the days of short-lived stints in retail, and you’ve never been happier for it.

You’ve lived the attendant life for a few years now, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’ve met some of your best friends through this job, seen some of the most beautiful places in the world, met celebrities on their way to new production locations and concert venues. 

It’s the dream, you tell your family, during the rare moments you actually get to visit them. And it is. The perks far outweigh the cons in your profession, and you’re happy to be where you are.

That’s not to say there aren’t any cons though.

There are always rude flyers, unruly children, issues with luggage. The turbulence is never much fun, nor are the months spent without being able to go home at all.

There are always nights like tonight, where the rain made the flight arrive later than expected, and you’ve got another flight scheduled for the morning. Between jetlag and the copious amounts of airline coffee you’ve imbibed to remain bright and chipper over an eight hour flight overseas, there’s no way you’ll get more than five hours of sleep before you have to clock in again.

A nightcap in the hotel bar seemed just the thing to cool off. You haven’t even taken your uniform off, the thick fabric stretching across your skin, your legs exposed to the cool air as you sip on your drink. The alcohol burns a bit in the back of your throat, but you take comfort in it, trying to lean into the calming warmth it creates in your stomach.

“Can’t sleep?”

The unexpected voice rips you from your reverie, and fuck, what a wake up call. The voice is deep, a pretty rasp edging into the ends of his words, the warmth of his tone making you far warmer than the alcohol in your glass ever could.

Captain Francisco Morales. Even his name has heat swimming in your stomach, and you wish you had just gone to bed like a normal person instead of drinking at the hotel bar at midnight. 

You can’t decide if the pilot is a perk or a con of the job, only knowing that he seems to pilot most of your flights, and is a fucking distraction during every single one of them. With his big broad shoulders and patchy beard, the crinkles around his eyes when he smiles and his insistence that you call him Frankie, not Captain Morales. 

The whole “flight attendants fucking pilots” trope never really applied to you until you met Frankie. You’ve made it a point not to hit on him, no matter how much you desperately want to. It would be far too stereotypical, and with how fucking nice Frankie is, you’d feel like you’d be taking advantage of him. So you’ve kept your distance, talking to him kindly, trying to cross your legs discreetly when he flexes his damn hands on the plane controls, and doing your job like a normal person.

But as he crosses into your line of vision, sitting in the barstool directly next to you, you’re struck with the realization that you’re in unknown territory. There’s no distracting yourself here with other passengers, or your fellow flight attendants. You can’t excuse yourself to an airplane bathroom to splash cold water on your face and yell at yourself to get it together. No, Frankie is right in front of you, ordering a whiskey neat from the bored-looking bartender, and smiling at you so fucking prettily with those big brown eyes and big hands and oh god you’re not going to survive-

“Nah, the jet-lag is really getting to me this time,” you say casually, your voice working on its own accord. At least you aren’t staring at him dopily like some kind of imbecile.

He chuckles. “Same here. Flight go okay?”

“You got us here, didn’t you, Captain? I’d say that’s a success.”

“Then let’s hope I’m always successful,” he winks, and it takes effort to breathe normally. You giggle, and he smiles at you again, his eyes crinkling up.

“You have a flight tomorrow?” he asks, sipping at his drink. 

“Yeah, unfortunately," you sigh. "10:00AM, which is making the whole ‘no sleeping thing’ even worse. Y’know, it’s really the airline’s fault if I collapse on a passenger." You grin at him, and he laughs.

“Oh, they should be so lucky,” he chuckles, and you could swear that you see just a flicker of heat in his eyes. A heat that turns into a raging inferno inside of you, spreading from your cheeks to the tips of your toes. 

“How about you, Captain? Flying again tomorrow?” You need to keep your mind out of the fucking gutter, not that he makes it very easy.

“Yup. They’ve got me in the air at 8:00AM.”

“Oh man, and you’re listening to me complain about my 10:00AM?”

“Work is work, sweetheart,” he smiles at you, and you want to collapse into him at that very moment. Sweetheart. Coming from anyone else, it would sound smarmy, like a pick up line, but from Frankie, it just sounds warm and comforting. You want to be his sweetheart. “We’re all allowed to complain. We aren’t in any kind of competition.”

He sips his whiskey, his eyes feeling like they’re boring into your fucking soul. “And either way, we’re both in the same bar, at midnight, sleep nowhere in sight. We’re pretty much in the same boat.”

“If you say so, Captain,” you say, your body positively burning under his gaze. You hope that you can blame it on the alcohol.

He raises an eyebrow, “I thought I told you to call me Frankie, sweetheart.”

“Frankie, sorry.”

“No need to be sorry,” he says, taking another sip. You try to not watch his throat work as he swallows. You fail. “Think you just need more practice,” he mumbles into his drink, so soft you almost miss it.

“Practice?” you blurt, mind too distracted to think of an intelligent response.

“Practice saying my name.”

A laugh startles out of your mouth. “I have no idea how I’d practice that, Frankie.”

He hums, pretending to think. “I have a few ideas,” he murmurs, and fuck, you definitely aren’t imagining the heat in his eyes now. It’s blazing into you, and you have to press your thighs together to alleviate the ache between them, hoping that Frankie doesn’t notice. Or maybe you hope he does, as you watch those thick fingers wrap around his glass.

Fuck it. He’s hot, you’re horny, and God, you can’t take much more of this. “I’d love to hear all about them, Frankie,” you say, adding a little rasp to your voice that you hope sounds sexy.

Frankie chuckles, but it doesn’t sound like he’s making fun of you. No, he sounds surprised, like he can’t believe you’re flirting back at him. Confidence swims in your chest as red colors his cheeks. You gaze up into those warm, brown eyes of his, and fuck, he’s so pretty up close like this.

“You sure about that, hermosa?”

You don’t break eye contact with him, and his deep gaze burns into yours. “Positive,” you breathe, and Frankie’s smirk is absolutely devastating.

Captain Francisco Morales doesn’t do this often. No, he doesn’t do this ever. Fucking between flights is supposed to be a perk of being a pilot, but it’s a “perk” he rarely utilizes. One night stands have never really suited him; he gets attached far too easily, and with his job, he can never stick around for long.

But god you’re pretty. And you’re licking hotly into his mouth, and whining in the back of your throat like you’re fucking desperate for it.

He couldn’t help himself when he saw you, still in your little uniform skirt, nursing a drink at the hotel bar. He couldn’t help himself when he struck up a conversation with you, wanting to see your pretty smile and soft laugh that he only ever hears mid-flight. And damn it, he sure as hell can’t help himself from pressing you up against the wall of the hotel elevator, pressing one of his thighs between yours while your fingers curl into his hair and his arms wrap around your waist.

You wiggle down onto his thick thigh, and it creates the most perfect pressure on your clit. You whimper against Frankie’s mouth, and he groans with you, pulling you flush against him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and his voice is deep and gravelly, breathless from your fevered kisses. “I, uh, I don’t usually do this kind of thing.” His cheeks burn, but he doesn’t back away, just leans his forehead against yours and tries to catch his breath.

It isn’t a surprise, his confession. You’ve heard stories about every other pilot, about their conquests with flight attendants, or how someone saw one of them take their wedding band off when they got to their hotel. There are stories upon stories about every pilot you’ve flown with, except Frankie. And it’s intoxicating, knowing that he wants you enough to have you like this. 

“Good. Me neither,” you whisper, and Frankie grins again. That boyish, devastating grin, and fuck, your clit is throbbing so hard that you could cum like this. You could cum, right in this elevator, Frankie’s thigh between yours and his tongue in your mouth, fuck-

The elevator dings, signaling your arrival to your floor, and Frankie jumps away from you as the doors slide open. You don’t take it personally, not when you’re instinctually tugging your rumpled skirt down. You glance up, and Frankie is already staring down at you, gaze blazing as he braces a hand against the elevator door, holding it open for you. 

“Where’s your room?” he asks, and the question is casual, but his voice certainly isn’t. There’s promise in it, and you have to make sure your knees don’t buckle. 

“Why don’t I show you?” you say, stepping toward him to press your bodies together. Frankie doesn’t answer, he only cups a hand under your jaw, dragging your face up for a sticky kiss. It’s so much better than a yes.

He breaks the kiss far too soon, but one of his hands makes its way down to your ass, squeezing the fat of it through your skirt. “Lead the way, princesa,” he grumbles, and how could you ever think to refuse him?

Maybe you’re a little too eager in your walk to your room, but Frankie doesn’t seem to fare much better. No, he’s just as desperate as you are, with the way he presses you against the door of your room the moment you close it. With the way he swiftly kisses down your neck, sucking your skin between his teeth as he unbuttons your blazer, shoving the fabric down your arms. The buttons of your white undershirt follow, and you keen as he sucks maddeningly at your pulse point, his mustache scratching at the sensitive skin of your neck.

As soon as you’re divested of your shirt, Frankie’s moving again, kissing his way down your chest. He drags his teeth against the soft skin of your breasts, and you dig your hands into his hair. 

“Fuck, baby, you’ve got the prettiest tits,” he murmurs against your skin. It doesn’t sound like a line, no, it sounds like a prayer. 

“Frankie, please,” you breathe.

He looks up at you from his position at your chest. “What, gorgeous?” he asks, coy, as if he doesn’t know what you want. What you desperately need. 

“Please, just,” you use your grip in his hair to drag him back up to your mouth, and he goes willingly, groaning softly as his tongue meets yours again. “Please fuck me, Frankie,” you whisper, and Frankie groans like he’s dying.

“Take- take your clothes off, baby,” he mutters, and it sounds more like he’s begging than he’s commanding. “Take your clothes off, and get on the bed.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

You have to make sure you don’t trip on your way to the bed as you kick off your heels. You tug your skirt and nylons down your thighs, making sure to wiggle your ass a bit more than normal as you bend over to tug them the rest of the way down your legs. You smirk at Frankie’s soft groan behind you.

The air of the hotel room is slightly cold, but as soon as you kneel on the bed, arching your back in a shameless display of your desperation, Frankie is burning hot above you, and you can’t feel the cold at all. Frankie’s thick, calloused hands palm your ass, and you moan as he spreads you apart, staring unabashedly at your aching cunt.

“Can I eat your pussy, baby?” he grumbles from behind you, and the fact that he’s asking permission to eat you out is making you so much hotter, making you clench around nothing. 

“Yes, yes, Frankie, oh please-” you whine, and Frankie barely lets you finish your sentence before he’s dragging his tongue in a long stripe up your dripping pussy. “Fuck, Frankie,” you groan, and he moans into you, sounding like he’s enjoying eating you out just as much as you are. 

His nose drags maddeningly through your folds as he brings his lips down to your clit, sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it in circles that send pure pleasure sparking endlessly up your spine. You arch your back into it, pressing yourself into his mouth, and Frankie groans again. The vibrations of it against your clit make you jerk wildly, whining high as you clutch desperate fingers into the pristine white sheets of the bed.

Frankie tries to keep you still with one of his big hands pressing into the small of your back. His other hand makes its way to your pussy, and you don’t even realize, not when he’s licking into you so feverishly, until there’s a thick finger pressing into your achy entrance.

“Frankie, oh my god-” you gasp wetly, his finger so much thicker than one of your own. It’s been so long, too long, since you’ve had the touch of anything other than yourself. Your tiny, traveling bullet vibrator doesn’t feel like this. You can’t stretch yourself like this, you can’t drive yourself wild like he can.

He moves his finger around inside you, searching, searching, while he licks softly at your clit. “Where is it, baby?” he mutters against you, and you have to force your brain to work at least a little bit to decipher whatever the fuck he means.

His finger is still searching, stroking against your slick inner walls, and you can barely gasp out a, “up, up,” before he’s finally touching that sweet spot deep inside you. You can’t hide it when he does, gasping out a high pitched moan as pleasure rockets up your body.

“There it is, sweetheart,” he says, “good girl.”

And fuck, how do you hold yourself together when he says things like that. He licks again at your clit, but plays with that spongy spot inside you, abusing it. You’re so slick and hot, it doesn’t take long before he’s pressing a second finger into you, then a third. And his fingers are so fucking thick, breaking you apart and pressing into that wonderful spot inside you. Your vision is blurring at the edges as he plays with you like a practiced instrument. How is he so good at this? Your body barely feels like it’s your own, just Frankie’s; his to play with, his to fuck. God, he’s ruining you. It’s never been this good.

“Frankie, Frankie-” you whimper his name like a prayer, and his fingers move fast into you, jackhammering you into the mattress. You whine as he breaks his mouth from your clit, but he keeps his fingers pressed deep inside of you as he leans over your trembling body. 

“C’mon baby, c’mon baby,” he mutters, moving his fingers inside you so roughly that you could swear he’s trying to break you in two. “What do you need, sweetheart? What do you need to cum all over my fingers, huh?”

“Just keep-” you gasp between shuddering moans. “Just keep talking to me, fuck, please-”

“Talk about what, gorgeous? Talk about how hard I am for you right now? How hard you always make me?” You whine at his words, and you can feel his smirk against the skin of your shoulder. His fingers move into you even harder, if that’s even possible. “Fuck, princesa, you have to know how fucking sexy you are. Make me so fucking hard whenever we fly together. Fuck, watched you bend over to pick up your bag once, right in front of me. Had to fuckin’ jerk my cock as soon as we got back to the hotel. Can’t help it around you baby.”

You feel like you’re underwater. Frankie’s voice is deep and dark in your ear, and your pussy is so fucking sensitive. You can feel your orgasm burning relentlessly in your stomach. Just a little more, just a little-

“Thought about taking you to the back of the plane, mid flight. Thought about fucking you hard, stuffing this pretty pussy, making you go back out to work with my cum dripping down your thighs. You want that, sweet girl? Fuck you’re so pretty, so pretty baby, you’ve gotta cum. Please, please let me fuck this pussy. Be my good girl, cum all over my hand.”

You don’t think he means it like a command, but you follow it anyway. You moan, throaty and wet, into the sheets as your cunt clenches around Frankie’s fingers, hips twitching as he presses reassuring kisses to your shoulder. You turn your head blindly, and he leans forward to meet your lips in a bruising kiss, his fingers buried deep inside as you gush all over his hand.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” you whisper against his lips, repeating it like a mantra, and Frankie whimpers, needy and so hot that it makes you want to cry.

“Okay, baby, okay, I’ve got you,” he says, and you know he does. 

When Frankie presses the blunt tip of his cock against the opening of your sensitive pussy, you both groan. You push your hips back just as he pushes his hips forward, and the tip of his cock is just as big as the rest of him. Which, of course, means fucking massive. You have to breathe through the stretch of him inside you as he sinks deep, deeper, deeper. 

“Doing so fucking good, sweetheart. Jesus fuck- ah- so fucking tight baby- fucking beautiful- oh fuck-” Frankie mutters, sounding just as overwhelmed as you feel. It feels like forever until he bottoms out, his hips pressed against your ass as he hunches over you, hot and big and all man. It’s a dream that you’ve had before, but the reality is so much better than anything you could have ever imagined.

“So- you’re so big, Frankie,” you whimper, and Frankie groans behind you. “Need you to fuck me, wanna feel it tomorrow, please, please-” and he does. He pulls his hips back, just to shove himself back in, and the drag of his fat cock against that spot he found earlier has tears springing unbidden to your eyes. 

“Yes! Oh my god, like that, just like that-” you’ve never talked this much before during sex. But his unyielding thrusts, deep, deep inside, have you babbling wildly.

“Christ, you can’t talk like that, princesa, gonna make me blow my fucking load-”

“Want it, fuck Frankie, want you dripping down my fucking thighs, wanna gape open after you fuck me, oh god-”

Frankie fucks in harder, and it’s like every thought you’ve ever had flies out of you. His chest and stomach press into your back as he holds you still, thrusting desperately into you, harder and harder.

The bed is creaking, a rhythmic squeak that mixes in with the endless sounds of your keening whines and Frankie’s moans, and the obscene squelching of your pussy around Frankie’s cock. Your wetness drips down your thighs as Frankie bullies his way inside. He’s hitting that beautiful spot inside you, so perfectly, so overwhelmingly perfect, and fuck, tears are dripping down your face as you clutch onto a pillow, only able to squeak out pitiful whines of “Frankie, Frankie,” as he destroys you.

“So fucking gorgeous for me, god, bebita, fuckin’- fucking tight, fucking strangling me. Been too long, honey? Too long since you got fucked like you deserve?” Frankie growls into your ear, fucking you like a god damn animal.

Frankie’s lost control above you, which he just doesn’t do. He’s always in control, always, he has to be in this profession. But it’s like you’ve stripped him bare, literally and figuratively, to the most primal parts of himself. You’re so fucking hot and wet and tight around him, whining and throwing yourself back on his cock like it’s the best you’ve ever had, and he’s losing it. Losing it far too quickly, and he’s going to cum far too quickly.

“C’mon, baby, give me another one,” he groans, “squeeze my cock with this perfect fuckin’ pussy, wanna, wanna feel it.”

“Touch my clit- oh please, please, Frankie, ah- ah” and he does, the moment the words leave your lips. He reaches underneath the both of you, not breaking the rhythm of his hips driving into yours, and rubs two of those thick, calloused fingers against your throbbing clit.

“Fuck- yes, just like that, just like that, oh my god.” You’re slurring your words, so stupidly drunk on the feeling of his cock filling you over and over, of his body radiating heat above you.

“Gonna take care of you hermosa, make you cum like you deserve, so fuckin’ beautiful crying on my cock,” Frankie says, rubbing your clit hard and methodical. “Never gonna get enough of you baby. Gonna fuck you in every hotel we ever get, fuck you at the terminal, fuck this pussy in the god damn cockpit, oh shit-”

And you’re screaming, outright screaming into the sheets as the thread in your stomach snaps, your pussy clenching and gushing all over Frankie’s giant cock. He’s still mumbling into the cook of your neck, mindless mumbles about how pretty you are, how perfect, as you tremble through the most powerful orgasm of your fucking life. It’s devastating, it breaks you apart and puts you back together all at once, and you just have to trust Frankie to hold you together in his strong arms.

“Where do you want it, huh baby? Please, please, you’ve gotta tell me, oh shit-” Frankie whimpers, and it’s a damned good thing you still have enough brain cells to understand what he means.

“Inside, inside, 'm on the pill, please, please fill me up.” It’s fucking risky that you both didn’t even think about a condom, but with a man like Frankie, it’s hard to think about anything.

His hips still, his cock pressed inside so deep that it feels like he could be in your lungs, as he fills your pussy with his cum. He bites harshly into your shoulder, but it doesn’t fully muffle his whimpers as he crashes through his orgasm. Your eyes flutter shut. You wish you could bottle those sounds and listen to them forever.

Your knees slide out from under you, leaving you laying flat on your stomach, and Frankie follows, holding himself against you as you wait for your breathing to slow. 

“That was…” you whisper into the quiet.

“Fucking amazing.”

You can’t suppress your giggle. “Took the words right out of my mouth, Frankie.”

He tucks his face into the crook of your shoulder, and you can feel his pretty smile, before he’s lifting himself off of you, and you realize how cold you are without his heat.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” he says, and you can’t bring yourself to do anything more than nod. Frankie rushes quickly into the en suite bathroom, and you can hear the sink running for a moment, before he comes back. A warm, wet rag makes its way down your back, over the curve of your ass, and between your legs. He’s ridiculously gentle as he wipes you down, and it’s wonderful. 

Once Frankie deems you clean again, he climbs into bed next to you. He wraps his arms around your placid body, tugging you close. “Didn’t take you for a cuddler, Frankie,” you murmur, but you only snuggle closer, relishing in his deep chuckle.

“I’m usually not.”

“You don’t do this often, though?” you say, dragging a finger down his chest, your eyes already fluttering shut.

You feel Frankie’s lips press to your forehead as he murmurs, “I think I’m willing to let this,” he hugs you against him softly, “become a new habit.”

You smile, and you lean up to kiss him gently. “I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

[mrskreideprinz]

I know this is a curveball but... could I request a little Alhaitham if you're comfortable with him? Maybe with some soft degradation? *blushes*

hehe i hope i did your boy well bestie <3

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Afab!Reader, Blowjob, Some silliness in this, It's your/alhaitham's first time, Accidental edging, Face fucking, He cums in your mouth sorry </3, Estabilished relationship, childhood friends to lovers, Degradation (not very heavy i'm so sorry bestie </3), rough sex, alhaitham is very big to say the least.

"You're.." Your eyes widened in shock.

"Big..?" Alhaitham tried guessing your next words.

"Huge!" You exclaimed.

Alhaitham tried not to look you directly in the eye. He wasn't stupid, he'd known he was above average when it came to anything below the belt, but he hadn't expected you to react in the way that you did. He couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed what with himself being front and center and all.

"Sorry. It's just that I didn't expect you to be this big, 'haitham." You explained.

Truthfully, the real reason you had been acting so crass in the moment was that you were ridiculously nervous. You'd been friends with Alhaitham since the two of you were kids, and you'd only been dating for about five months when you both decided to take it to the next level. You loved him and he loved you, that wasn't the problem. The issue lied with the fact that you'd never been with someone intimately before, much less the guy you'd been in love with for over a decade.

"What?" He tilted his head to look at you. "Worried you won't be able to handle it?" He teased.

"N-No! I'm just.. just a little nervous is all." You finally admitted.

Alhaitham smiled at you as he stroked the pad of his thumb against your cheek. "We don't have to do this if you're not ready."

You shook your head. "I'm ready, I've been ready."

There was a moment of silence where you relished in the feeling of his warm palm against your face, before you finally leaned in to make small kitten licks at his tip.

"Does this feel good?" You looked up at him waiting for a response.

Alhaitham hissed in pleasure. "Y-yeah, keep going, please."

Carefully you continue to make small licking motions at the head of his cock, taking your sweet time savoring him. You wrapped one hand around around his cock, stroking it gently as you wrapped your mouth around the tip.

"Oh! Oh, fuck." He moaned.

You kept on with what you were doing but this time you did it faster. As you continued to suck off your boyfriend you could feel a familiar warmth pool at your core. Alhaitham suddenly had tangled his hands into your hair and tugged on it tightly, trying to restrain himself as best he could, yet losing the battle regardless.

"Feels so fucking good. Oh my god, don't stop, sweetheart." He encouraged.

He was getting so close. Alhaitham almost let himself go entirely when the feeling suddenly subsided. Carefully and quickly he pulled you off of his cock so he could look you in the eyes.

"Can I try something?" He asked.

Once you had given the approval he tangled his fists in your hair again, staring at you with a hungry look in his eyes. "Open."

As confident as he seemed, Alhaitham was shaking. To say he was eager for you would be a terrible understatement.

He was hesitant at first, slowly thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth, until he finally had gotten more comfortable and begun to fuck your mouth with impatience. His thrusts were sloppy and uneven, but god damn did it feel good. Feeling the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat (once you got past the gag reflux at least) felt amazing.

Again and again, and again he forced himself into your mouth and down your throat till you were gagging and choking on his cock. He'd be liar if he'd said he didn't enjoy it a little, the pathetic way you looked up at him for sympathy filled him with butterflies. He just couldn't help himself when he bit his bottom lip and focused on using your mouth for his own desires.

"So-So close." He whispered.

It seemed as if the words were meant for him rather than you. It was as if he was trying to reassure himself that the high was near. Alhaitham looked down at you, noticing the way your jaw trembled and your teeth just ever so slightly grazed against his skin.

"Come on, baby, you can hang on a little longer, right? I'm so close." You nodded and gave him a muffled 'mhm' with tears in your eyes.

He smiled and let out a great big sigh as he felt a rush of desire flood his chest.

Tears fell from your eyes as Alhaitham pushed himself into your mouth with two hard thrusts, and then you felt the sudden sensation of his warm cum entering your mouth. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you grinded your pussy against the heel of your foot. That's not even mentioning the precise way Alhaitham held your face in place, using you like his own personal sex toy.

Eventually he pulled out carefully and held you in his arms. Although, even after he'd pulled out of your mouth and had begun to press soft kisses against your throat, you were still barely aware of what was going on other than the thrumming in your chest and the wetness which pooled between your legs. One thing was for sure, you definitely wanted to do that again.

[howlett-n-morgan]

Take Me Home

5. Blood Stains

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: HEY GUYS I AM BACK WITH A DOOSIE. okay so my fashion show was fantastic, let me know if y'all wanna see a video of my collection i think it turned out pretty damn good. anyways, wrote this while crocked off my ass on Benadryl bc allergy season is hitting very very hard right now so if it's not perfect we are all going to collectively blame the Benadryl, okay? okay.

Summary: An accident in the laundry causes chaos in the camp, and secrets are revealed sooner than expected. With everyone else acting like the world is caving in, Arthur steps up as usual.

Warnings: misogyny, major gender role tropes, a little bit of personal violation, but very minor. Susan is a bitch in this chapter (we love Susan). Blood plays a lot into this chapter, and so do menstrual cycles, so if you're uncomfortable with those mentions, this may be a skippable chapter for you. There's also like some sexual implications but nothing inherently sexual happens. I think that's it, let me know if I missed anything.

WC: 7.8k

“Climb up, let’s go to town before closing time,” he walked around to the other side where his horse was hitched from earlier today, still saddled since Bill hadn’t made his rounds yet.  You complied, but were unsure of the motives for such a trip.  “Is Dutch paying you to take me somewhere? He want you to kill me quietly?” 

In the weeks since John’s disappearance, you’ve noticed three things:

One, Dutch hasn’t barely been seen in the camp, and when he makes his presence known, it’s either angry or forlorn. Two, the entire gang has been very quiet, not wanting to set off Dutch, or make anyone else upset with the matter. Three, Arthur has done as he said he would, becoming closer with Abigail, and helping nightly with Jack. 

It shouldn’t break your heart, because you had no right for it to. You shouldn’t be distancing yourself from the both of them, they didn’t do anything to deserve it, but the way your chest tightened by watching them, watching Arthur gently place a hand on her shoulder as he watched Jack squirm in her arms was far too miserable. Abigail won’t speak of it, knowing that everyone has been on edge since her former lover left, but she missed the talks and conversations you held. You understood her, and though she didn’t exactly know the truth as to why, she was still partially in grief over that bond, too. 

Arthur takes immediate notice, but doesn’t say anything. Hosea had mentioned your run in with John the evening he took off. He figured you needed time to cope with the situation, even if you didn’t know John all that well, or even like him for that matter. Everyone in camp was dealing with it differently, so why should he judge the way you handled yourself?

It was only when you stopped talking to him altogether that he became slightly concerned, and he wasn’t the only one. 

When Dutch first brought you into the gang, he knew there was some subtle competition with you and Arthur. The two fastest guns in the west, hell, maybe even the world… but you butted heads often. He didn’t know why it had suddenly stopped, but his concern grew from being in both your presences at the same time, and the icy feeling he got just from standing between you, running over job details in a tent. 

It was like Arthur didn’t exist to you anymore. Everything you said and did was conveyed to the people around him, but never to him. You would even give news to a big group of people to avoid telling Arthur directly. 

Dutch knew there was something wrong, because he could have sworn you both were inches away from getting along, but now it was worse than square one. It was after a successful job that he said something about it. After you had deliberately handed Arthur’s cut to Javier and told him to give it to the next man over. 

You’d ridden back, safe and sound, but Dutch held you back, nodding the others away from the horse troughs.  

“Talk with me for a bit, will ya son?” He tried to approach the situation gently. This couldn’t have been a gradual thing. 

“F’course,” you muttered, hands resting on your gun belt as you followed him into the center of camp. 

“I’ve been noticing some… strange behavior from you towards Arthur. Only lately…” he scratched his head, looking at you expectantly. “You can tell me if he did somethin’ to piss you off, I’ll speak with him about it.”

You furrowed your brow and shook your head. “He didn’t do nothin’ to piss me off… I’ve just always been better off on my own, don’t wanna rely on anyone.”

“I can understand that sentiment, but it doesn’t make any damn sense as to why you’re givin’ him the cold shoulder,” he furthered his point, and you didn’t have any choice but to make something else up. Something that could actually be worth what you were doing to Arthur. Your head told you that the truth of ‘I’m actually a young woman and I’m catching feelings for your gang enforcer’ wouldn’t help you. 

“He’s been tryna hold me back,” you sighed out, as if revealing some huge secret. It was partially true, but you’d grown more relaxed about the protection Arthur had been trying to provide. Still, you kept on the charade, knowing it would get you out of this situation free and clear. “M’tired of him thinkin’ I can’t keep up, tired of feelin’ like a helpless kid next to ‘im.”

Dutch let out a breath and narrowed his eyes. “I see… and so you figured it best to keep him out of arm’s reach, is that it?”

“Guess so,” you shrugged, leaning against the pole of his big tent. 

And then it seemed that Dutch saw this as a teaching moment, because he nodded for you to sit down on one of the cross latch boxes, across from where he stood. He had a whole spiel oncoming, and you were almost sure you knew what it would contain. Something about the camp being a family, everyone sticking together and more nonsense of the like.

“You don’t understand this now, because you’ve never had a time of need in this gang… but that day will come,” he paused, and you perhaps had it all wrong, listening intently now. He pointed in the direction of Arthur’s camp set up, and you glanced over, not for the first time that day. He was tired, hunched over his cot and leaning in exhaustion, running his hand over his face. “And when you are in that time of need, there is no better man to have in your corner than Arthur Morgan.”

You nodded in understanding, a small frown on your face. You wanted to protect yourself, but if what Dutch says is true, you’re only setting yourself up for failure. 

“He’s been here a long time, and no matter your opinion of him, no matter the things you do or the things you say, he’s loyal. It ain’t up to me what you decide to do, but you should know, he’s the best ally you’re ever gonna have.”

And just like that, you regretted the past weeks. Everything you did to avoid him, getting up early to grab some of the coffee before he came by. Going out and hunting without letting anyone know, just so that he didn’t have a chance to come with you. Even going as far as to mend your own clothing and do your own laundry, knowing he might catch you at one of the girl’s stations while picking up your weekly wears. You felt awful. You remembered at least four times he tried to approach you before he just gave up. At the time you were grateful, because you thought it was making things easier for you, but in actuality, the things Dutch said were true. You needed him in your corner. There would be a time of need, and Arthur was the best ally to have when that time would come, whatever it may be. 

“I think I oughta go set things right, then,” you let out, your ego deflating slightly when your eyes met Dutch again. 

“If you think it’s best,” he nodded, switching places with you and watching you walk over to his favored outlaw, the man he called his son. He called you son, too. You wondered if that would hold up if he ever found out about you. 

Arthur was on the verge of sleep, but you were doing this now. You could apologize later. 

“You look like shit,” you tried to be nonchalant, and not bring any emotion into this. 

When he looked up, he was slightly annoyed, but his face softened once he looked at you for a moment. 

“Feel like shit,” he grumbled, trying to understand what you were doing here. You didn’t exactly give him reason to believe he was important to you anymore. “Did you need something?” 

You kicked the dirt beneath your boot, trying to keep yourself composed, but you weren’t too good at these things, and the amount of shear stiffness in your body wasn’t helping you to relax about it. 

“I think I owe you an apology,” you started, and he tilted his head in slight confusion. Sure, he knew what you were apologizing for, but he didn’t know why. “I’ve been avoidin’ you, n’ I shouldn’t have.”

He nodded in thanks, accepting your words. You stood awkwardly, unsure if you should say more or just leave, but when you turned your boot to walk, he stopped you. 

“Did I piss you off or somethin’?”

Why was everyone asking that? 

“No, ain’t nothing you did. Just my own stupid ass and things that don’t matter,” you told him. You felt even worse now, because you’d made both him and Dutch think that it was something he did wrong. He could rarely do any wrong in your eyes, which made this whole ordeal that much worse. 

“Matters enough, you stopped talking to me. Couldn’t even get you to look my way.”

You didn’t want him to know anything else. With him and Abigail rapidly forming a blossoming relationship, it wasn’t for you to stand in their way. Jack needed a father figure, and Arthur was the perfect candidate. 

“I’m sorry about it. I swear it won’t happen again,” you really wanted to leave this time, unsure of how far it may go in the event of a deep conversation… but he caught your wrist and gently tugged it back towards where he sat as soon as you started turning away again. 

“You gotta give me somethin’, Red. I’ve waited weeks just to ask you,” he pleaded, his tired eyes looking through you and trying to enter your mind. You caved just as soon as you saw how badly this affected him. You hurt him. He might be big, burly, and dangerous… but he bleeds, and his heart can be wounded as easily as anyone else’s. 

“I’ve been going through some things, and you’ve had a lot on your plate with Jack and Abigail. It’s not fair of me to make my burdens your burdens… I was tryna keep you out of it,” you admitted, which was only half true. The partial truths of the night were stacking up, but fortunately he couldn’t tell the difference right now, too tired and unfocused to really study your features and what you were hiding. 

“Red,” he sighed, not yet prying for more information, but giving you one last glance. “You can tell me things. Remember that.”

You nodded, smiling at him for the first time since John left. “Alright.” 

-

You stopped avoiding and ignoring Arthur, but things were still distant. You’d been getting close right after Jack was born, but going into his third month in the world, you two were miles apart. Still, it was better than the stone cold facade you’d been turning to him before. 

“Got any laundry?” Susan asked, breaking you out of your trance as you watched the sun setting. You weren’t really paying much attention, but nodded, reaching behind you into your tent for a sheet full of worn out and dirty clothing. You should have looked it over, but you didn’t, too caught up in your own mind. “You can ask the girls about getting it back tomorrow, they’ve been going stir crazy for things to do.”

“Yes ma’am,” you nodded, tipping your hat and leaning back against your small tent’s middle pole. You had half a mind to slide your hat over your eyes for a nap, but that didn’t seem like it would fly, especially if one of the others needed you for something. 

You could definitely use a nap, you were cramping like crazy. You swore if Bill came up to you and asked for any more favors with the damn horses this week you’d kill him, but only because you were feeling grumpy. 

You wanted so badly to confide in Arthur about these things, the troubles of womanhood that you couldn’t share with anyone else but him. You wondered if he would ever tell anyone, since it’s been almost five months of your residence and you have yet to reveal your secrets to everyone else. Maybe you were being paranoid, but the closer he got to Abigail and the further you pushed him away, you thought he might care less about the agreement you both made. After all, spilling your secret to Dutch would gain him loyalty points, and Dutch seemed all too happy to be giving them out since John left. 

It was about an hour later when there was a shriek at the other side of camp, and many ran over to see what the trouble was. 

Tilly had been sitting by her wash bin, but had pulled her hands out on account of one thing. 

“What’s the matter, Tilly?” you heard Sean over your shoulder, and when you finally saw the trouble your eyes widened and you muttered a single word under your breath. 

“Shit.” 

“What’s shit?” Arthur’s voice was also heard beside you now, and you turned to him ever so slightly with a whisper.

“Me, I’m in deep shit.”

Tilly showed everyone the water, with some clothing swirling around, but it was all tinted red. 

“I think someone’s been hurt,” she said, waving over Mrs. Grimshaw to show her the problem. “There’s blood in the water.”

You tried to casually back up slowly, hoping that it wouldn’t get traced back to you, after all, the clothing in the bin was yours, and Mrs. Grimshaw had just picked up the pile from you. You were just stupid enough to leave your monthly attire in with it, and during your monthly time, too. You were only two days into the cycle, meaning there had been a lot of blood.

Grimshaw, being the stern and impatient woman she was, rolled her sleeves up and dug around in the water, looking for clothing with holes to indicate a stab or bullet wound… but she only found:

“A sanitary apron?” She furrowed her brows. She was pretty in tune with the women of the camp, and hadn’t been aware that someone was menstruating right now. 

“You better run, kid,” Arthur caught on, nudging your shoulder. You’d already started getting further away from the scene, but it seemed Grimshaw already came to a conclusion before you could make a break for it. 

“I picked these up from…” she trailed, her brow now seemingly angry and strewn together in a stressful manner. She marched over to you, grabbing your lanky wrist harshly and tugging you away from the scene. “You better not be hidin’ what I think you’re hidin’!”

You held onto your hat as she practically ran you into the nearest tent. It wasn’t hers or yours but that didn’t matter, her urgency was all too apparent. 

“Miss Grimshaw, what’s this all about?” 

“I have had my suspicions about you since you arrived here,” she spoke intensely, pulling you forward by your belt buckle and doing her best to undo it. 

“Hey, hey! What’re ya doin’?!” You tried to protest, but her nimble hands were too persistent, and she finally got your pants loose enough to take a brief peek at what she needed to see. “What the hell, would you stop?!” 

“I knew it!” she yelled, a finger pointed in the air. 

And just like that, you knew you were screwed. 

She quickly ran out of the tent, and you tried to follow her, making a quick attempt at putting your belt back together on the way out. 

Arthur ran a hand over his face when first he saw you, and the state you were in. He knew the jig was up, too. 

“Where is that man when you need him?” Susan was turning every which way, a mess of herself just trying to frantically look for the camp leader. 

“Dutch? He’s in town with Hosea, what’s the problem?” Bill sauntered up, dusting his hands from the work he’d paused. 

Pearson and Javier all of a sudden made an appearance, and when you thought nothing could make this worse, the rest of the camp zoned in on the chaos, having had nothing better to do this whole day. It was slow, and there were no jobs to be done, so the boredom consumed minds jumped on the first sign of entertainment they could find, and boy was it something.

“We have an imposter in our midst!” She yelled, her arms waving around wildly. 

“Hold on, now…” You tried to interject, but Arthur shot you a look, shaking his head. Don’t do it, kid. Just shut up.

“What do you mean an imposter?” Pearson crossed his arms. He was never one to give bad news of any kind to, because he had a tendency to blow it out of proportion. “Who?” 

“That,” she pointed at you, her voice raised to the highest decibel count you knew was humanly possible. “Is not an eighteen year old boy! She has been fooling us all. Who even knows where she comes from, what her real name is!”

“What the hell are you even talking about?” 

“The kid?” 

“Ain’t no way…”

The rapid responses coming forward almost eased your mind, except for the fact that Susan did in fact have up close and personal proof from what she saw. 

Arthur stepped forward, and as the murmurs grew louder, and Miss Grimshaw was prepared to go on another rant, he did all he could to calm the situation. 

“Let’s not make any rash judgements right now,” he gave you a look, trying to let you see he was attempting to help, but that you needed to leave. “We’ll just wait until Dutch and Hosea get back.”

You took that as a cue to leave, awkwardly making way for your tent. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Susan tried to chase after you, but Arthur held her back. 

“Wait for Dutch,” he said, his arm blocking her path. Who knows what she’d do in this state? She’d been known to whip some of the boys into compliance before, who knows what she’d do to someone she viewed as an imposter. 

Sitting with the flaps closed, you could still hear everything that was occurring outside, and it nerved you far more than being in the middle of it all. 

“It doesn’t make any sense…” and “Do you think it’s true?” could be heard from separate conversations, and you wished more than anything that you’d just done your own damn laundry. 

Your face fell in your hands, and you started going over all the things that could happen. Dutch could hate you for lying to him, and kick you out, banishing you as far as you could go. Or, since you were a newbie, and didn’t have the trust factor built yet, maybe they would just shoot you dead. That may have been an extreme idea, but with your rapidly beating heart and increasing worry, things like that were bound to spill in. Not like you’d been in a gang before, you didn’t exactly get an etiquette and rule book when you arrived. Who knew what would happen to you. Nothing good, that you knew.

When Arthur finally opened the flap and leaned down inside the small dwelling, you knew it was time to face the music. 

“Dutch is back, Susan’s tellin’ him everything,” he sighed, looking over your face and feeling a sense of guilt that he didn’t do anything to stop all of this. When you first arrived he thought maybe it wouldn’t be a big deal, but having experienced this much drama in just the past hour has most definitely led him to believe he was wrong. 

When you stayed silent, and didn’t really give him a reaction of any kind, he could tell you were hit hard with the anxiety and shock of it all. He couldn’t ever get you to shut up, and he often didn’t want to, most of all now when you looked like a scared animal. 

“I ain’t gonna let ‘em hurt ya, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You shook your head, and against your hardest efforts, tears were backing your eyes, looking for ways to escape. He hadn’t ever seen you like this, and it wasn’t pleasant. 

“I don’t wanna leave,” you admitted. You liked it here. You weren’t lonely here, and you had a family… or at least you did an hour ago. You didn’t know where you stood with half of these people. 

He couldn’t speak for Dutch or Hosea, or anyone else really, but he could speak for himself. 

“I don’t want you to, either…”

When Arthur heard his name called, he leaned back, looking in the direction of his father figure, looking angrier than a pack of hungry wolves. 

“Yeah?” 

“Tell Brooks to see me, now.”

You didn’t even need the message relayed. You stood up, and followed Arthur out of the tent, your head down as you made the distance to the center tent, the big one you’d been at only a bit ago with council from your leader. You only hoped he’d be so forgiving when he found out you lied to him. 

Arthur got into the tent first, mumbling a few things you were a little distracted to hear. You did catch the small ‘don’t be too hard on her’ fall from his mouth, though. 

You sat down on the box chest, close to the exit of the tent, just in case things went south and you had to run. Not that you were thinking about running, but again, a million scenarios crossed your mind. 

“Arthur, wait outside.”

You grew more tense as soon as those words were uttered, and so did Arthur it would seem. 

“Dutch, I think I should-”

“Wait. Outside.” 

He reluctantly did as he was told, walking far enough away that he wouldn’t be reprimanded, but still in your eye-line so he could keep an eye on you. He trusted Dutch with the gang members, but if he was considering kicking you out, that made you fair game. 

“I’m gonna cut to the chase,” he took a long drag of the cigar he held between his fingers, blowing the smoke out when he turned his head to the side. “You know why you’re here.”

“I reckon I do,” you answered quietly, trying to keep an ounce of confidence though your entire body felt like it would start shaking in fear. 

“I could have you stripped for the whole camp to see, but for propriety’s sake I’m only going to ask you this once… is it true?” He asked, his tone less stern but still eager. 

“Yes.”

He sighed, having heard the softness in your voice since you came in, he already knew. You’d never shown this side of yourself to the camp before. You were always confident, sure of yourself, cocky even. To think it was an act boiled his skin… but he wanted to take his time with this. You still had capabilities the likes he’s never seen, and if he wasn’t careful they could one day be used against him. You didn’t know about the O’Driscolls yet, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have you running off and joining them. It would be the death of the Van Der Linde gang, of that he was certain. 

“I’m gonna decide what to do with you, but until then, you stay out of my sight.”

He pointed outside of the tent, and you were honestly surprised that this was the extent of his questioning. Nothing about the lies? About the history? About anything at all?

You gave him a double glance, but scurried away in fears he might change his mind and tear you to shreds on the spot. You walked hastily towards Arthur, your face gaining more color to it once you were out of the line of danger. 

“You alright?” He asked, his furrowed brows reflecting his concern. 

“No,” you let out with a dramatic scoff. Your flare for over exaggeration was sometimes quite amusing to him. He just dropped his head and chuckled. 

“You’re fine,” he patted your shoulder before stepping past you and going to talk to Dutch. What he knows is that Susan Grimshaw spilled every nasty detail of this afternoon to the camp leader, but he also knows that he hasn’t had his say yet, and when it comes down to it, Dutch will side with his loyal enforcer over a disgruntled Miss Grimshaw. 

Dutch was stretching out his arms, sore from the ride in and out of town. It was a scouting trip, really, but it was enough to make him ache when all the stress was added. 

“First John leaving, now this. I can’t seem to catch a break, can I?” Dutch sighed out after his words, the toll they took on his mind caused him to shake his head of so many thoughts. 

“This ain’t so bad,” Arthur began, tilting his head from side to side. 

“How could you possibly think that?”

Arthur shrugged, reasoning with himself a few options before saying them out loud. 

“S’not like she did any harm. Only thing that’s come of it is a bit of surprise to everyone…” he trailed, sitting across from the man he called his father figure and his friend. The tension seemed to ease up the second he neared the man, but there was more to be done to diffuse the situation, and he was all too happy to insert himself as the cause of said diffusion. 

“She lied about who she is, for all we know she could be working with local law, or worse, the pinkertons.” 

Dutch’s raised concerns nearly made Arthur chuckle. When you first got here, facade or not, you were still just lost and looking for somewhere to call home. There were never any motives behind your gang participation other than needing a family.

“We haven’t had them on our trail in ages. Coming here, we finally put a stop to their sniffin’ around. Besides, she’s been the reason for our successful jobs lately… she’s been loyal enough to save my life despite our differences.”

“But she lied to us,” Dutch kept driving his point. A liar’s a liar, and they lie about other things. 

“She’s a scared kid, Dutch. She just wants a place to be,” Arthur defended, his arguments becoming more close and personal, which led Dutch to connect some other dots. 

He sighed, looking at Arthur and coming to an understanding of what he knew were past events. 

“You knew, didn’t you?” 

Arthur dropped his head into a subtle nod, not yet meeting Dutch’s eyes for his fear of a bad reaction. 

“Since the week she got here.”

Dutch had to laugh, because of course he did. Arthur was more in tune with the members of camp than he could ever be, and more than they could be with each other. He was like Hosea that way, his ability to connect and grow relationships with others was just a natural gift. He often thought it stemmed from Arthur’s great love of the unknown, and his endless curiosity. 

“How’d you figure it out?” 

“I didn’t, until I found some uh… rather feminine items in her saddle bag. She fessed up pretty quickly to me,” Arthur scratched the back of his neck, his nerves settling when he knew he wouldn’t be in any trouble. 

“Well,” Dutch started, coming to the edge of his open tent, looking for the troubled recruit among the busy movement of the camp. “We’ve taken in much worse, and it’s always been in our favor. And you’re right… She's just a scared kid. A scared kid with the quickest hands I’ve ever seen.”

There was a moment, and then Arthur smiled.

“So… She’s free n’ clear?” He asked, his tone hopeful, which Dutch noticed. Perhaps Red had made amends after all, and just as Dutch promised, Arthur was in her corner. This wasn’t her time of need, per se, but he knew she would have him when it arrived.

“I suppose so, although… I’m not going to be responsible for the court of public opinion,” he gestured to everyone in the camp, frantically working around just to keep themselves busy. With all the chaos going on, it’s the only thing they can do not to sit and gossip, which they do anyway. 

“I reckon I better keep her away from Susan?” 

“With a ten foot pole, preferably,” Dutch rolled his eyes. That woman was full of determination, and it could be both a great strength, as well as her worst weakness. 

Arthur smiled, ready to go make good on a promise he’d been waiting on for some time. “I’ll catch you later then.”

“Alright, Arthur.”

-

You didn’t know if Arthur’s conversation with Dutch would benefit you or condemn you, but you didn’t stick around to find out. He’d found you saddling your horse, just in case a hasty escape needed to be made. Yes, perhaps your delusions were getting a bit out of hand. 

“Where you goin’?”

��Depends,” you started, “How mad is he?”

Arthur huffed and grabbed your wrist, stilling your movements. “He ain’t mad.”

“No?” You could hardly believe it. “He seemed riled up to me.”

“I talked to him,” he explained, but gave no further intel. 

“You got magic words or somethin’?” You chuckled, slightly more relaxed since the news came better than you hoped, and Arthur wasn’t dragging you back to be punished or anything. “What’d you tell him?” 

“That you were gonna be loyal… and that you’d been scared.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, trying to play off his last words like they weren’t true. “I ain’t scared.”

“Really? You were about to run, weren’t you?” He pointed to your full saddle bag and stocked up horse, ready to disappear at a moment’s notice. 

You caved. 

“He gave me a little fright is all,” you toed your boot into the dirt as you spoke, looking back up to find him nodding at your horse. 

“Climb up, let’s go to town before closing time,” he walked around to the other side where his horse was hitched from earlier today, still saddled since Bill hadn’t made his rounds yet. 

You complied, but were unsure of the motives for such a trip. 

“Is Dutch paying you to take me somewhere? He want you to kill me quietly?” 

It was just a joke, but he was getting tired of the overly dramatic interactions. He wasn’t sure what all transpired in your past, albeit knowing more than everyone else… even still, he figured there had to be something that gave you your theatrical touch. 

“Knock it off, would ya?”

“Sorry.”

The ride wasn’t long, but the sun was down when you both tied your horses to the poll in front of the general store. You’d been in here a few times, and the man behind the counter always cowered in fear of Texas Red the unkillable. No matter your manners or gentility, that’s just how it was. 

“What’re we doin’ here?” You adjusted your hat, wiping some sweat off your forehead and following him up the front steps. 

“I remember sayin’ I’d get you a dress a while back, we’re here to make good on it.”

You stopped in your tracks, a wide smile blossoming on your face when you heard him say it. He’d remembered, and been waiting for it since the night he uttered the words. 

He noticed you weren’t close behind him, and turned, catching the sweet expression you wore, but brushing it off with a sideways smile. 

“C’mon now, gotta pick it out.” 

You followed after him, and once inside, the man behind the counter seemed to be nervous, as usual. He didn’t seem to be weary of having you both in, just a bit anxious. Arthur knew his presence held power, but he figured with your reputation in this town, and others around… your presence was bound to hold more. 

“What can I do for you? Need more socks?” The man asked you kindly, and you shook your head, a small laugh escaping you. 

“No, we’re uh… we’re here to get a dress for my wife,” Arthur spoke evenly, his confidence showing through when he had to put on a show. 

Your head snapped to him, and though you knew he was intending to buy the dress for you, a thought sprang into your mind. Abigail. She was going to be his wife. 

This sweet little moment, with Arthur keeping his promise, and making a big to-do over your acceptance into camp, was all part of your own little fantasy. It wouldn’t last, and when you returned to camp, he’d be with her again, helping with Jack. You tried to shake the thought from your mind, wanting to enjoy this sliver of time with him. 

“Of course! I’ve got a new selection,” he pulled out the catalog, and opened the pages to a section with different types of skirts, petticoats, chemises, and corsets. All were beautiful, but your eye was drawn to a more simple style. It was a work dress, which would be far more practical for you than any of the other ones. 

“I’m not too good with all this. What do you think, Red? Which one would she like best?” He tossed you a smirk, leaning his elbow on the counter while he let you browse over the pages a bit longer, turning them over with a furrowed brow of focus. 

“What color does this one come in?” You asked the man over the counter, keeping your act up, but letting your hints of excitement show through. 

“That one is a nice pale blue, perfect for spring and summer time,” he spoke firmly, becoming more relaxed the longer you both were in the store. Yes, he’d heard the whispers, and for you, he’d actually seen your acts of a quick trigger. But here, you didn’t seem like a threat, so he stopped acting like you were.

“Blue, huh… Might bring out her eyes a bit, hey Arthur?” Now it was your turn to smirk, and he chuckled, nodding back to you and tapping the page twice with a heavy finger. 

“You’re right it would, make em’ look like crystal,” he played along, making you blush under the brim of your hat, unbeknownst to the man behind the counter. 

“It’s gotta be that one, then.”

Arthur chuckled, counting out the cash that the dress price was listed under, tossing it down on the counter and nodding to the man. 

“You heard the kid, we’ll take that one,” he spoke in a playful tone, ignoring the movements of the man as he scurried to the back rooms, getting your dress pieces together. 

Arthur lifted the brim of your hat, and smiled genuinely at the look on your face. It was excited, sweet, and grateful. He wanted to buy you the entire stock of the store just to ensure that look stayed on your face, no matter the irrationality of it. He’d become quite accustomed to giving you his time and his efforts, and this was no different. The only difference is that now he wanted to, wholeheartedly. The deal you’d struck with him, the one where you were going to teach him your methods of shooting faster, were now null and void. He didn’t want to take anything from you, he just wanted to give.

When the store worker returned with a large box in hand, Arthur thanked him for his time, carrying the thing over his shoulder and heading for the door, which you opened for him. 

Getting outside, you went for the horses, but he stopped you with a swat of your hand away from the reins. 

“Can’t go back yet, gotta see how this looks on ya,” he insisted, nodding for you to follow him yet again. He walked for a bit before coming up on the shed with a small lantern inside. It looked like it only housed tools and ropes and things of the like, but there was space enough to change in. “Came across this when I was out one day. Took a whole nap before someone realized I was in here.” 

“How convenient,” you teased, taking the box from his hands and eagerly walking into the confined space. 

“I’ll be out here,” he mumbled as you shut the door, putting a shovel against it since it didn’t really even close all the way. 

You knew he wasn’t the peeping type, so you began tearing away at your clothes, the ones that had been worn completely through by now and needed replacing anyway. You had more back at camp, but you had always missed dresses. This would be the first of many you would probably buy for yourself, but it was going to remain your favorite, because of who it came from. 

It was just like clock work, muscle memory helping you to remember all the little ties and snaps that needed to be in place, the corset laces that needed to be pulled enough to fit the outer fabrics. You knew you probably needed a good hair brushing and face washing to actually look like a young woman again, but for now, the dress was doing wonders on your self esteem… or at least it did until you realized you couldn’t finish putting it on by yourself. The buttons on the back went up higher than your shoulder blades, and sat in a near impossible spot to reach. If there was a mirror, you could probably just contort yourself enough to get it together, but in a dark, barely lit tool shed, your options were limited. 

You sighed, pulling the shovel away from the door and peaking your head outside. Arthur had nearly gone through an entire cigarette in the time you took to change. 

“Arthur?” You asked timidly. 

“M’here, you alright?” 

“I can’t reach the back,” you admitted, just slightly embarrassed. “Can you give me a hand?” 

He was all too happy to comply, stomping out the cigarette on the ground and taking quick steps to reach you. “Turn around.”

You did as he told you, turning so he had access to the open back of the dress. He couldn’t see you all too well in this light, but even from what he could see, a few words entered his mind from a past conversation you had with him. 

I used to be quite the stunner… and he surely believed it. 

His fingers caressed the exposed skin of your back before buttoning the fabric closed, smoothing it down over your shoulders and watching the way it fit you perfectly. 

“Don’t mention this to Abigail,” you joked, turning back around and trying to keep the mood light. It was beginning to feel too intimate, and you knew you couldn’t allow yourself to feel that way with Arthur anymore. 

“Why?” 

“Well, I might be a bit old fashioned, but isn’t it frowned upon for a taken man to be helping another woman with her dress?” 

It was just another joke, but he seemed to be completely thrown off by the implications. 

“I ain’t a taken man,” he confessed, looking at you with a stare that was all too deep, and all too consuming. He needed to stop that, but you didn’t have the heart to make him. 

“Not yet,” you corrected, but again it was you in the wrong. 

“No,” he shook his head, trying to bring a serious tone to the conversation. “I’m not gonna marry Abigail.”

Your face screwed up in confusion, thinking about all the times when he collapsed in her tent with Jack, just to get up and help him in the night. He was Jack’s new father, wasn’t he? That was the deal he made. 

“Why not? I thought that you were- well since you were helping with Jack and… what about your deal?”

“I said I was gonna do right by this boy, and I am… But Abigail won’t have me,” he shrugged, admitting to the rejection she gave of his offer. “She’s still in love with John, n’ I can understand it.”

It should have made you feel a bit of sadness, to know that even with all that Arthur was, someone would turn him away like that. ‘Abigial won’t have me’ sounded like perhaps he thought himself not good enough, just as he always does. Despite all of this, you didn’t feel sorrow, you felt an abundance of joy. A wide smile spread across your cheeks, and he furrowed his brow. 

“What’re you smilin’ about?”

“Nothing,” you dropped the smile and shook it off, running a hand up his arm and giving it a sincere squeeze. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I know you’ve meant well.”

“S’alright. Hosea’s been tellin’ me since Jack was born that I shouldn’t have offered. He doesn’t think we’re right for one another, somethin’ like that.” 

“I agree, you’re not right for each other,” you spoke out loud, though that thought was meant only for your head. 

Arthur seemed to be catching on slightly to your behavior, stepping a bit closer and staring downwards at you. 

“Yeah? And who am I right for?” He teased, watching the redness of your cheeks spread down your neck and shoulders with every breath you took. 

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out,” you did your best to counter his taunts, stepping away from him and going to collect your old clothes from the shed. Once they were in hand you turned back to the opening of the alley, making way for the horses. “You coming?” 

And of course, he followed, shaking his head and chuckling under his breath. 

-

The next day fared better than you thought it would, if you’re being honest. 

You didn’t really know why, if Dutch had said anything, or if Hosea did, but after you returned to camp the previous night, everyone seemed to be acting just fine. They treated you differently for sure, but not badly. In fact, you noticed the men had a certain kind of reverence to you that they never held before. The same they did with the other women. 

Maybe it was just the beautiful dress that Arthur bought for you, the light and pure color of it giving you a sense of being ethereal, having finally exposed the raw feminine beauty that was hiding for so long. You reckon you’d even start growing out your hair again, as the short style coming to your chin was not how you preferred to have it in the first place.

You still went to work doing the same tasks you normally did, but were careful not to rip your dress or over-exert yourself, given you were still in the same physical condition as the day before. 

“Charl- I mean, Miss Brooks?” 

You heard a voice chirp softly from beside you, and you dropped the wagon supplies for now to walk over to the owner of said voice, Tilly.

“Yes, Miss Tilly?” You extended a smile, and she smiled back, albeit a tight and awkward one from where she was sitting. You took a step or two closer, and she had to shake her head after getting a better look at you. 

“I just-” she cut herself short on account of the words already jumbling in her head. “I don’t want there to be any awkwardness between us.”

You furrowed your brow to her, unsure of what she could have possibly meant. 

“Why would there be?” 

“Well, if you can recall,” she started, a nervous chuckle in her speech. “I tried to make some… advances towards you. Back when I thought you were uh… a young man.”

You smiled again and ducked your head, a scoff of laughter and a nod of your head brought about less tension. It was no big deal. 

“Don’t worry yourself, Miss Tilly. I was the one who tricked ya, I oughta be apologizing. Probably should to Abigail, too.”

“Abigail?”

You tilted your head, recalling the scene. About two weeks before Jack was born. You’d done the same thing Arthur did, with not a care of revealing yourself in the future. 

“Before John even left, I offered her to be Jack’s ‘father’ when he was born. I guess I was pretty certain at the time no one was gonna find out,” you explained, leaning against the wagon she sat by, mending a shirt that looked like Arthur’s. You could tell by the wear and tear around the shoulders, where his broadness likely just caused the fabric to break down faster. 

“Could you really have gone on like that?” 

“I don’t know,” you pondered, another small laugh escaping you. “Maybe not, since I had to tell everyone I was eighteen just for them to believe it.”

“You aren’t eighteen?” She seemed surprised. Maybe you just had a young face. 

“No, ma’am. Twenty two nearing twenty three as a matter of fact.”

“I’ll say,” she tutted, throwing down the shirt she was finished with, and picking up a new one. “You had us all convinced. Makes me wonder where you really came from.”

You thought about telling her, but the story was long and today was a busier day than before. There was actual work to be done in preparing for the next job, a few days ahead. 

“Some place I didn’t wanna be,” you chided, stepping away from the wagon, nodding to her in thanks for the small chat. “I’ll let you get back to it.”

“Alright. I’ll catch you around,” she spoke sweetly, a kind look of relaxation on her face, now that she knew where she stood. 

You went back to work, making sure that neither Dutch nor Hosea saw you with idle hands today. You wanted to make sure that no matter what happened now, you wouldn’t be cast aside. You still had the abilities they needed, but with a skirt on your hips, they saw you differently, and it was up to you to show them you were not going to be ignored when it came to jobs in the future. 

You hated that the rest of the women in camp were just seen as stationary helpers, only capable of mending clothes or cleaning up the camp, or even just laying the groundwork in town for the men to actually pull jobs. You’ve seen Abigail in action, she was smart and cunning and had a great way with words, she could be the difference in things staying civil or having a shoot out during a quiet robbery, but the men overlook her gifts. You know the women in this camp have great potential, and perhaps if they let you continue as you have been, they will open the opportunities for the others as well.

Tags: @photo1030 @sheepdogchick @snoopysshark @strvberrydoll @yyiikes @phantasyy @puffyhairedhipster @scorpio-echo @hollyskjlap

[piratefishmama]

Fake it till you make it | Part 11

“Be careful, Eddie” were Wayne’s words as he hugged his nephew goodbye, knowing he wouldn’t see him for a whole week and honestly still being a little worried about it “if you think even for one minute that something’s off, just… just get out of there, alright?”

“I know, I know, I’ll bolt through the woods and hitchhike my way home, I know the way, Wayne, I got this.” He could read a compass, he’d be able to get a map from any gas station and head home, he was resourceful, an adult, he could handle himself.

“Damn right you got this, son. But… be careful in other ways too, alright? Steve’s a charmin boy, but… remember this ain’t real.” Eddie had bitten his bottom lip at that one, brows furrowed in thought, those big brown eyes of his swirling in emotion, he never did hide his feelings well, it’d always be a little real for him. “Protect this” Wayne poked his chest with a gentle prod, right over Eddie’s heart “okay?”

“Mhm, I will…” he’d try to anyway. Steve really was… charming. An his kisses? God his kisses… but also... it really was the closest he’d ever been to what romance ought to be, what a relationship ought to be, he never thought he’d have that.

The world didn’t appear to be moving fast enough for him to truly experience romance as most people did.

He had to remember that he didn’t have that.

“Eddie! C’mon you’re in the back with me!” Steve called from the garage door, behind which the car was rumbling, their bags packed into the back, Steve’s parents already inside, ready to go. The longest Eddie had ever been away from Wayne since arriving in Hawkins, was three days during a weekend trip to Indy with the band to play at a slightly bigger venue than the Hideout as a one off.

A favour for his favourite gay bar when a live act they’d scheduled pulled out last minute. It hadn’t gotten them a lot of exposure, but it’d been a fun and enlightening night for the band.

“Best get on, son, I’ll see you in a week. Call when you can alright? Don’t care if you wake me up or about no damn time zones, just call, I’ll answer, an if I don’t, you know the plant’s number.” Tight lipped, strained smile, Eddie nodded quickly then turned on his heel and graced Steve with a brilliant smile, game on.

“I don’t wish to alarm anyone, but... did we miss a turning?” Eddie may have been unusually quiet for the first leg of their journey, nerves having hit him like a truck the second they pulled out of Loch Nora, but he was paying attention to his surroundings.

And those surroundings, were all too quickly, Fort Wayne International Airport.

“You don’t honestly expect rich people to drive the whole way to Canada do you?” Steve’s voice was amused and came from so very close to his ear that he actually jumped, quickly turning in his seat, back plastered against his side of the back seat, eyes wide as he took in and processed what Steve said. “Plus, what would you rather do, spend nearly two days in a car with my parents—”

“We’d make wonderful road trip companions, don’t be rude Steven” came his mother’s interruption

Steve ignored it in favour of continuing his point “—orr… around ten hours in one of those with a brief stop off in Chicago.” Steve leaned inward, uncaring of personal space as he pointed to a plane, ascending into the heavens from the runway.

“I don’t—” he didn’t know. He’d never been on a plane before. Trips like that, across country, they were the stuff of road trip legend, but Steve had a point…

Two whole days of a trip stuck in a car. Or just ten hours. Eddie’s eyes skipped to the window again, to the plane now disappearing beyond the overcast cloud cover.

“It’ll be okay, Eds, I’ll sit right next to you the whole time, you’ll be okay.”

“What if we crash? What if it falls out of the sky? What’ll you do?”

“My best to keep you safe.” It was so earnest, coupled with Steve gently taking his hands and giving them a squeeze, eyes so full of raw honesty, of understanding, it hit Eddie directly in all his soft gooey bits. “I’ll hold your hand through the whole ten hours if you want.”

“Even during the stop in Chicago?”

“Hah, yeah baby, even during the stop in Chicago.”

“They’re a lot more openminded in Chicago too!” Lynda spoke up without turning her head, allowing Eddie to not get stuck on baby for too long “might get a few looks from people passing through the airport but nobody will say anything, and if they do, they deal with us.”

“If we had enough time during the stop we’d have taken a trip around the city, let you boys see some of the sights we’ve seen, but alas, our connection gives us an hour at most depending on everything being on time, and that’s just enough time to get us from one gate to the next.” John added as he pulled into the long stay parking lot. “Maybe some other time, some other family trip, eh Eddie?”

Eddie’s wide eyes turned to the front of the car, then back to Steve again, lips parted ever so slightly in surprise. Not surprise over the words used, but the feeling those words caused. Family trip. They were including him on future family trips.

Steve’s eyes quickly snapped from him to the front of the car and back again, then a warm smile blossomed on his lips. He lifted his hand and ever so carefully brushed a stray curl back behind Eddie’s ear, and asked so softly as his thumb lowered to brush along his jawline. “Right, Eddie?”

“Y-yeah… yeah I’d… I’d love that.” He turned his head fully toward the drivers seat, he’d never been too good at hiding his emotions, so maybe he was just a little choked up when he accepted the offer “I’d really love that.”

“Great!” The car came to a stop in one of the many parking bays, ignition off, driver side door opened “It’s settled then.” Settled. Eddie would privately mourn the knowledge that it’d never come to fruition, but… on the surface he could pretend he was excited for a future trip for the sake of the ruse. “Now boys if you could get the bigger bags out the trunk that’d be a big help! This back of mine isn’t as sturdy as it used to be.”

“You’re forty-six and go jogging almost every morning, don’t be stupid John.” Lynda whapped her husband with her handbag in gentle, semi-amused admonishment before getting out of the car.

Followed by her husband who, in a hushed tone replied with “don’t tell them that, Lynda, save us the work.” Leaving the two boys to breathe soft laughs between themselves before they too joined the older couple out in the parking lot.

“Steve...” Eddie hissed as they neared check-in.

“What?”

“I have weed” said through his teeth.

“What?” Steve paused.

“I have weed… I have weed in my suitcase.”

“You have what?!” Steve rounded on him, sentence ended with a pointed hiss

“I didn’t know we’d be flying to Canada, Steve, maybe you should tell people when you’re planning on launching them into the troposphere in a death tube!”

“Why would you bring weed on a holiday with my parents, Eddie?!”

“SHHHH, be quiet. I thought I might need it to chill out if I was freaking out at some point during the week like right now, I could really do with it right now.”

“Oh my god.”

“Steven? Is something wrong?” Lynda’s voice had them both snapping to attention, eyes wide, caught in the act. Luckily she had no idea what that ‘act’ was.

“Nope! No, uh, Eddie’s just gotta… use the bathroom real quick.”

“Well, there’s bathrooms in the business class lounge he can—"

“No! It’s uhm, it’s urgent, can’t wait, he’s uh…”

“Nerves, it’s uh, it’s nerves, I think imma hurl” she looked between them with a small frown on her face, assessing them both, it seemed like whatever she found wasn’t worth arguing about though, because she waved them off with a quick flick of her wrist.

“Alright fine, hurry up. Steven you know where the closest ones are go on now quickly before we’re late for check in, we’ll double check everything here.” John was already pausing to check through all their documents like a regular airport dad, it was the third time he’d done it since entering the airport.

“Alright let’s go, Eds, lets deal with your little problem.” At least he was soft-handed when he manhandled Eddie to the nearest bathroom, patchy suitcase with a squeaky wheel wobbling away behind them. Once inside, he checked each stall individually, before quickly turning on a wide eyed Eddie. “Where is it?” Eddie pointed down at the suitcase, and Steve snapped to action, lifting, and placing Eddie’s suitcase down on the slightly damp row of sinks. “Did you pack any liquid soaps?”

“Uhhh…” Eddie was too busy staring at the flex of Steve’s arms as he just. Lifted that whole very packed suitcase in one hoist. Fuck.

“Any shampoo? Conditioner?”

“I—I feel like my answer is going to make you mad so I’m just not going to answer.” Which on its own, was a pretty damning answer, and Steve’s expression told him as such “I don’t have a twelve step hair care routine like you do, Steve! I just… I have drug store shampoo and conditioner and that’s really only when it’s on a two for one sale! Usually I just—"

“If you say you water it down to make it last longer I’m going to throw the first thing I find in this suitcase at you.”

“Shutting up. I just thought I’d buy it there if I needed it, or just borrow yours, I know you brought some, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, I figured that… if I borrowed yours it’d make it seem like I just… wanted… to smell like you?”

“You just made that up.” Eddie just smiled, all teeth and dimples, scrunching his shoulders inwards in an unfairly cute display of mischief. “You’re a menace, Munson. Get your stuff out of there for me. Don’t ever put weed in checked luggage.”

“But—”

“TSA does random checks on checked luggage all the time, an while they’re not usually looking for weed, it’ll get launched and you might get fined. Whereas you can hide weed in just about anything in a carry on, just shows up as vague blurred shit on the x-ray scanners. Just be cool when you shove it through.” Steve was rummaging in the front of his own bag now, “be cool, and act natural.”

“You sound like you’ve done this before.”

“Mn once or twice, Tommy was a dick, but his cousin worked for the TSA for a few years, gave us all kinds’a neat tricks to get things through the airport.” Tommy’s cousin had gotten fired and a year inside for attempting to smuggle narcotics out of the confiscated items lock up, but that was neither here nor there. “Gimmie what you have.” Hand outstretched, Steve waited until Eddie placed the single baggie containing three roll ups and a few loose buds “Christ Eddie.”

“I knew I’d be nervous! Stop being mean to me!” Steve rolled his eyes before taking the three roll ups out of the baggie

“Your smokes, give em.” Plenty of room in the pack to slot the three roll ups, and as for the buds, Steve emptied out his travel sized bottle of hand lotion into the sink and stuffed the whole plastic bag into the little bottle, then screwed the lid on tight. Nobody would look twice at a rich kids hand lotion. “Now wet the ends of your hair.”

“What?”

“Your hair butthead! Wet it, we told my mother you’d be in here hurling your guts up, so… you got some in your hair, it’s a good extra to add to the ruse, now do it.”

“So my own boyfriend wouldn’t even hold my hair back if I threw up? Where’s the romance, where’s the commitment, where’s the care and—”

“Dude you have a lot of hair, I doubt I could get it all in my hand at once.” Although now that thought was in his head… could he? Could he get a good fistful and hold it there? Not important. “I’d drop bits.” A flimsy argument, he wouldn’t drop anything.

“Uh-huh, sure you would, big boy.” Eddie quickly dampened the tips of his hair, and ran a wet hand through his bangs quickly in a bid to fake flop sweat, theatrics over and done with. “Zipper-up, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

Part 13

[wroteclassicaly]

maybe I'm late to kink hour but cmon Gator has a spit kink

Oooh, he probably has so many kinks he’s never been able to try, tbh. But we’ll focus on this one for now ;)

Warnings: Spit, spit kink, & language. Kinda smutty, but no actual smut?

It starts off with normal banter and moves quicker than anticipated. You’ve been annoying Gator in the office all day, even following him outside to bitch. No one else got involved with helping him at home, not really. So you’d rode in the patrol car to his place, pissed and bitching about the cold and the snow (despite being used to it), and why he can’t get someone else who will tolerate him.

“People are busy, s’ why they aren’t around. You know that.”

“Probably one of the reasons, is because of that nasty fucking thing.” You sneer, criticizing with a gloved hand towards his gross flavored vape.

His accentuated jawline tightens, freckles bouncing with the movement of his skin as it stretches across the bone. A cloud of vapor expands into winter’s frost, polluting the air with an acidic fruit scent. You make a gagging noise, egging him on when you see how pissed he’s getting. You don’t realize, that in the midst of enjoying his unease, he loses his temper and reacts. With a quick movement of hair gel gleaming under the winter sun - his calculated movements catch when your mouth opens next to mimic him.

His lips part and he leans, spitting a wad directly into your mouth. You’re appalled at first, shocked, literally choking on - not your own saliva, but his. And it tastes exactly like the item he inhales one more hit off of, before blowing it into your face.

Are your eyes watering? Ears ringing? Blood rushing? Yes, but not because of sadness, anxiety, or anger. No, it’s a buried emotion of what you’ve gambled on since you’ve known him, and among the bodily exchange - a realization. You liked it. You feel claimed, rather than mocked.

“That taste good, babydoll? You’re lucky I wasn’t chewin’.” His boots crunch in the snow as he attempts to walk away, but you reach out and grab his leather clad arm, squeezing.

You aren’t sure what you attempted to accomplish? A half assed remark, a berating lashing? As Gator turns and receives your physical message, he raises a brow, bordering on amused, annoyed, and ready to fight. But what he sees isn’t what he’d expect in a million years. You don’t spit, you swallow - straight down, your pupils expanding rapidly, eyes darting towards his mouth, still wet with projectile.

He’s got power. All the power here in this moment, but more importantly — you accepted what he gave and then you imprinted on him, the mold of keys to open previously locked doors between the two of you. His fingers reach out and dig the class ring (similar to his own, that he keeps put away) from beneath your blouse, that’s visible through your partially zipped coat. He tugs you closer, his frame smelling of cologne, copious amounts of hair product, and that damn vape. It’s overwhelming and you can’t focus, not even to answer him.

“You really liked that, didn’t you?”

You avoid his gaze.

“Come on now, darlin’. You afraid to look at me again? Because I don’t know if you were there with me a minute ago, but you were eyein’ my mouth like it was a sugar coated carnival prize.”

Still nothing. He wants more. He needs more.

That crafted nose nuzzles its way behind your ear, hot air on your neck that travels straight to your nipples and curls your toes as they sit in your boots. His voice is a low whisper, a damned rasp.

“You know what else I could spit on?”

// Eat me paragraph //

[writing-until-i-drop]

Rough Sex | Javy "Coyote" Machado x reader | wc: 1,274

No use of y/n | 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings! rough sex, biting, dirty talk, spanking, lmk if I missed anything

a/n: thank god for @closetspngirl because this piece kicked my ass and I debated skipping it and hoping no one noticed but you convinced me to finish it

Ao3

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

When Coyote transitioned to a two seater jet he knew he’d be getting a backseater. What he hadn’t expected was you. You had walked into the Hard Deck wearing a sundress that had made his mouth run dry and when you had figured out he was your new pilot, you had greeted Coyote with a hug and a key on the cheek. Then the jackals (his friends) had descended. 

Hangman was first up to bat, trying to charm his way into your pants but you had shot him down. Next was Rooster, who’s cheesy pick-up lines were more effective at turning your cheeks pink than Coyote would have liked. Phoenix had you under her spell with a few whispered words in your ear but she still struck out. Fanboy and Payback had kept things light, shooting for the friendzone and hitting their target, and Bob had just given you a wave. It irritated Coyote how much his squadmates wanted your attention which caught him off guard.

Coyote had never been directly responsible for another person’s safety in the air. Phoenix had warned him that it would be a new experience, what he hadn’t realized was just how…protective he would feel over you. Hangman claimed it was more possessive than protective but Coyote denied everything. He wasn’t possessive. He just didn’t like it when other guys talked to you, or put their hands on you, and he wasn’t particularly fond of the way men looked at you when the team went out for drinks. 

He wanted to be the only one you focused on, especially when you were together. And for the most part, you were good at that. In the air you were constantly in his ear, updating him on navigation and the weapons system. Coyote had assumed that having a backseater in his ear would be annoying but he found himself asking you questions just to hear you talk. The fact that you had moved into the apartment across the hall from him was a bonus, Coyote had helped you finish unpacking and offered to car pool, reveling in the fact that even if 

Right now you were sitting with Phoenix, chatting animatedly with your hands, leaning against the wall at the Hard Deck. When he heard what you were saying, he nearly dropped his beer.

“Honestly, you wouldn’t think it’d be this hard to find a guy willing to fuck the shit out of me.” Phoenix cackled, throwing her head back as if that was the funniest thing she’d ever heard but Coyote didn’t find it funny. He looked around, no one else was listening in except for poor Bob whose cheeks were cherry red.

“What about that guy I set you up with last week?” Last week? You had gone on a date last week? You groaned,

“He wanted to be all kissy and affectionate which is weird with a guy you don’t really know, at least for me.” 

“As much as I hate to say it, Bagman could probably get the job done,” Absolutely not. Coyote put down his beer, approaching your table. He liked the way your cheeks flushed pink when you caught his eye,

“Ready to go home, sweetheart?” Your brows scrunched in confusion, normally the two of you stayed much longer, but since we was your ride, you nodded, saying goodbye to the team. Coyote took a chance, pulling you into his side, his grip tight on your waist.

“Jav, what’s going on?” 

“You told Phoenix you needed something,” Your little gasp was enough to break the last of Coyote’s restraint. “And I’m the only one who gets to give you what you need. If you’ll let me.” Coyote pushed you against the side of his car, lips attacking your neck. You said you didn’t want kisses and affection, you wanted something rough, and he’d be damned if he let anyone else do it. “What do you say, sweetheart?” 

You moaned, tilting your head to give him better access, spurring Javy on. He nipped at your neck, savoring the sounds you made for him.

“Is that a yes?” 

“Do you need a written invitation, Jav?” You pushed his shoulders but didn’t let him get far, gripping his shirt. The look you gave him was dark and flirtatious, you had used it on him several times before. Your favorite pastime seemed to be teasing him but he never thought you meant anything by it because you’d laugh it off the second you said it, falling back into normal conversation. “Am I going to have to walk you through this? Should I go back in there and see if Bagman can get the job done?” 

“Get in the fucking car,” Javy snapped and after a second, you complied. 

“Fuck,” Your moans were muffled by the pillows on Javy’s bed as he plowed into you from behind. He was gripping your thighs tight enough to bruise, raising them to the perfect angle that let him hit deep inside of you with every thrust. You would never be able to look at your pilot the same way again, not when he was rearranging your insides while growling in your ear.

“You have been driving me crazy for fucking months, do you know that?” You couldn’t respond, your mind focused on the feeling of his cock filling you completely. “Letting the other guys flirt with you when you’re mine, all fucking mine, arent’ you?” God, being his sounded like a dream. “My backseater, my responsibility, my girl.”

“Yours,” You whined, “Spank me.” Javy didn’t hesitate, bringing his calloused hand down on your ass. He did it again and again, your ass stinging, Javy wasn’t holding back and you couldn’t have been happier. Fuck he felt good. He was doing everything that every other guy you had slept with thus far had failed to do.

“I’m the only one who gets to do this, do you hear me?” He pulled out and you instantly felt empty, crying out. “Tell me what I need to here, sweetheart, tell me the truth.” Javy rolled you onto your back, stroking himself over you. 

“Only you, all yours, please,” You were babbling but you meant it. This was all you had wanted for months, ever since you had first walked into the Hard Deck and found out that he was your pilot. “Javy, please. I need you.” 

“Good girl,” Javy thrust into you, leaning over your body. You were writhing beneath him, desperate for your release. He captured one of your nipples between his teeth and you cried out, scratching down his back. “Play with yourself, sweetheart. I want to feel that pretty cunt squeezing my cock and I want to feel it now.” You reached down, rubbing your clit, and it didn’t take long to send you over the edge.

Your orgasm was earth shattering, you couldn’t tell if you were screaming but your throat was burning. Javy kissed your neck, spilling inside of you, fucking his hot cum inside of you with short, hard thrusts. When he pulled out of you he rolled onto his back beside you, bringing you into his side.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Javy asked as you snuggled into his waiting arms. You rested a hand on the back of his neck, 

“Can I get a kiss finally?” Javy hadn’t kissed you once the entire time and you were in dire need of his lips on yours.

“I thought kissy, affectionate sex wasn’t what you wanted?” 

“Not with other guys but you’re my pilot,” You pulled his head down, brushing your lips over his. “And I want you to kiss me.”

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[dangans-ur-ronpas]

saw ur vents abt dungeon meishi and while I haven’t read the series yet or watched the anime I have seen bits and pieces and already saw the blowup scene where Toshiro attacks Laois and like. even I with zero context didn’t totally hate him. It sucks majorly that it had to happen but like. Toshiro is going through his own shit and plenty of other characters ALSO don’t like Laois! I think people just see that scene and project the amount of times that’s happened to them with someone in real life, which like. I get it. I’m autistic and reading that scene hit like a gut punch bc it was something I had experienced directly in real life: trying to be friends with someone, thinking you are friends, only for them to reveal one day that they couldn’t stand you and hated your guts from day one. You wonder why the fuck they pretended and let you hurt even worse than outright initial rejection. You wonder why they’d put themselves through enduring you. It makes you feel like you can’t trust anyone, makes you feel like utter shit. I 100% get why it bothers people. But you can’t project real life people you experienced onto this character that does not align at all except for this one moment. Also knowing about the author, she probably put that in on purpose as commentary for how autistics in Japan generally have to go through shit like this bc of the way their social culture is. She’s made plenty of autistic commentaries before, I doubt she stuck that scene in there for no good reason. The fact that Toshiro kept quiet and didn’t say anything until he couldn’t take it anymore is VERY indicative to me of the ways Japan’s typical social system is a struggle on all sides. Not to say these are problems unique to Japan, but the nuance needs to be understood. Toshiro isn’t being a dick just for the sake of it. I want to read it sometime so I can better understand the guy, but I don’t want to hate him based on one scene where he was an asshole. Laois is an asshole plenty of times himself, being very overtly written as autistic doesn’t absolve him from the responsibilities of being an adult.

TLDR: People tend to infantilize Laois and demonize Toshiro, which comes down to the prejudices preconceived for both of them: people see Laois, as an autistic man, as an innocent sweet guy who needs to be protected. They see Toshiro, as an Asian man, as someone who should be “polite and honorable” or whatever and are appalled when he acts like a fallible human being and not some appropriation of a fictional romanticized samurai. I understand feeling betrayed and angry seeing a character be a genuine asshole about something (social expectation does not completely absolve Toshiro of his own antagonizations however much of a reason he had) but when it’s so damn one sided, and especially in a series where almost NO one is without complete asshole qualities that round them out, I find it kind of gross that people hate on him for that. Anyway. Just wanted to send a message of support and understanding. Hopefully after I read more I can offer more analysis to corroborate with you on.

100% CORRECT thank you anon

i also understand the people who are sympathizing with laios bc that scene is very easy to relate to for many autistic or otherwise neurodivergent people (i also got a cold sweat when i was watching it bc. like. having someone you thought was a friend straight up tell you there are parts of your behavior that they can't stand is one of the worst things to experience of all time, ESPECIALLY if you were only showing that behavior around them bc you thought they were your friend and you trusted them) but it's so frustrating seeing so many people have such shallow opinions about toshiro bc of it. im on hands and knees begging people to consider the characters in three dimensions and/or develop better reading comprehension because like!! toshiro's official meeting with laios's new group literally leads with 'oh his name is actually toshiro and we never knew bc our leader had a misunderstanding and microaggressed him and he was too polite to correct him' laios is not an innocent party here!! he is not an innocent uwu autistic baby he's a grown adult man with responsibilities, in that whole time he was partied with toshiro he never learned his real name!! plus using toshiro's crush on falin as a reason to hate him, falin's adolescence was spent in a school and a social setting where she was expected to mask + her being a girl also means she is expected to mask by default -> she is better at masking than laios so why are people saying that toshiro hates laios for the same traits in falin bc clearly not?? also saw one person saying 'he only likes falin because she's hot' NO HE DOES NOT HE WOULD NOT RISK HIS LIFE HEALTH AND RETAINERS IN A DUNGEON ON A FOREIGN CONTINENT FOR THE SAKE OF A WOMAN HE ONLY THOUGHT WAS SEXY!!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DUNMESHI FANS THINK WITH YOUR BRAAIN

the whole fight he had with laios where laios points out that their party is more serious about finding falin and resolving everything also drives me nuts because i've seen at least one take saying that toshiro doesn't care about falin as much as team laios because of this. which yes the fact that team laios understands the importance of health in pursuit of a goal is very very important but for many cases in east asian culture (and actually any culture with emphasis on capitalism and economic growth) productivity will get valued above all else which leads to neglect of personal health, i.e: what toshiro was doing. so this is just a clown take to begin with

also interesting to me that almost every character in dunmeshi thus far has demonstrated some kind of racial bias/misconceptions (i.e: chilchuck about elves, senshi about half-foots, etcetera etcetera) and laios and falin are no exception. race and racial differences and conflict and coexistence is also one of the underlying themes in dungeon meshi, with the elves of the west being considered a major issue to many dungeon-goers and the mayor hating dwarves and having to contend with those elves, and then marcille's motive for studying black magic and even thistle's motive for being the dungeon keeper. so it's real fucking ironic that the fans are really quick and happy to demote toshiro to 'asshole side character who is bullying our autistic rep' instead of, you know, using nuance and thinking about it

tldr; dungeon meshi has great commentary on what it's like as an autistic person in society. but dungeon meshi fans are too quick to write off toshiro as an asshole japanese guy who is ableist and getting in the way of their white woman yuri, therefore helping to promote this website's enduring legacy as the piss-poor reading comprehension website

[lu-zijing]

BSD CHAPTER 119

There are many- mANY Things to discuss, cry, despair, and glee about. T.T. ✨✨✨✨ But I will mention this one thing now.

Have you considered we've never seen Fyodor wear an expression like this before?

THE A N G E R IN HIS EYES...!!! It feels genuine and then again it's so damn hard to tell with a character like Fyodor.

But no matter what, it hit damn harder than I expected..... Makes me wonder even more what's behind this whole thing about Atsushi being a "bookmark" ?

And just how important it must be for Fyodor. But.. in what way？

One of my first thoughts of it, was it being a reference to a main character. Think about it, wherever the bookmark is placed, that is where the "present" is. For the reader that is. That is us. And the main character will usually always be where the bookmark is, where the story goes on.

Not that that's it but it's a great comparison in my mind.

Moving on.. Fyodor may have started out by saying:

”You are... Its "BOOKMARK"”

But later he calls Atsushi “He who HOUSES the "BOOKMARK"“, not THE Bookmark:

And then he even says afterward that the "Bookmark" DWELLS WITHIN Atsushi, basically just saying it twice in two different ways, and therefore making it even more clear that Atsushi isn't directly the bookmark himself:

He specifically refers to the TIGER, the Abhorrent, Noble, Glistening Tiger to quote him correctly. Which dwells within Atsushi. Obviously referring to his skill. So assuming it's the skill, it isn't weird either he would just say that Atsushi IS the"BOOKMARK".

Atsushi himself said in Dead Apple, when he finally accepted his skill, that his skill IS him, it is not something someone can take away from him. He said something along the lines of:

"That's not a skill! That's me..!"

(( Yes, yes, I know it was literally taken out in Dead Apple without him dying. even if it only was for a short while, but so can some of your organs, and no one would argue your organs aren't.. YOU. Just because they can be cut out without you dying. It's a quite great example actually. Even if you can live without some organs, there could be after-effects depending on what organ we're discussing, maybe there's something you wouldn't be able to do? Just like if you lost your skill.

So even if it's T H E S K I L L, which is this so-called "bookmark" Atsushi is also special. Because the skill is him.

Not to forget, all this relates to the fact that his claws can cut through any ability, which Fyodor directly mentions in this chapter, concerning Atsushi being the "bookmark".

And in fact, Fyodor kinda mentions the thing about Atsushi AND the Tiger being special. Directly saying to Atsushi:

”You... and the Tiger are Special.“

Here's a chronological order of all the times Fyodor refers to Atsushi as the "Bookmark".

How he first said, "You and the Tiger", then just "You are..." And then the rest is straight up just him confirming that it is something within Atsushi, and how he only has an interest in that, and none in Atsushi himself:

Even though Atsushi and the Tiger come in a set, Fyodor only wants the Tiger.

The thing bothering me is this last panel. Even if it isn't Atsushi he needs, but the Tiger, wouldn't that also disappear if Atsushi died??

What in the multiverse do you mean you only need his head, Fyodor!!!?

Could it be the skill survives even when the skill user dies? Like the example with the organs, except it also works the other way around with skills?

Might depend on the skill I imagine.. Like the example with Tatsuhiko Shibusawa ? His skill survived even after he died. But then again, his skill specifically made it possible to split skills from skill users.

But even back then, there was something going on with Fyodor.. The whole thing about his skill being the only one not attacking him.

.. Now when I think about it, Fyodor would indeed know all about that, wouldn't he?

Hmmmmm—

[evanslvr]

So i know that you want some request so i have one! Can you do a tate langdon smut where he eats her out and like overstims her bc she was mad at him for something and he is angry 😤lol anyways yeag byeeeeeeeeeeeee

𝑾𝑬𝑨𝑲𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺 - 𝑻𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑫𝑶𝑵

𝑬𝑿𝑷𝑳𝑰𝑪𝑰𝑻 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑨𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫

•••

𝒘𝒄: 𝟏𝟎𝟗𝟎

y/n perspective:

"Leave me alone, Tate." I said, sternly. "All I'm asking you is why." He says, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "What the hell do you mean why? I have a life besides just sitting in this damn house with you!" He widened his eyes at my comment and I felt a little guilty. "So you're saying you don't want to talk to me anymore?" He questioned, with sadness evident in his voice. "Tate, I never said that. Why do you like twisting my words?" He stares at me with this glare that seemed upsetting.

"Jesus, you can't expect me to be with you twenty- four-fucking-seven!" As soon as I said that, he got angry. "I never said that you have to be around me twenty four seven! All I fucking did was ask you, 'Why are distant from me?' And you immediately started acting like a bitch!" I opened my mouth slightly, shocked about what he just called me.

"You know what, fuck you, Tate. All you do is annoy the fuck out of me with your constant clinginess! I can't go anywhere or do anything without you getting all sad and shit." I seemed to had hit a soft spot because Tate just looked at me. Not saying a single word, he just stares. I can't lie, it did freak me out. "Just leave, Tate.."

What seemed like less than a second, I felt him roughly forcing his hand around my neck and harshly putting his lips against mine. I didn't even have enough time to process what he just did, I tried pushing him off but he has such a tough grip on me. Since we were both sitting on the bed, he pushes me down against the mattress and climbs on top of me.

It felt extremely arousing for me. I gotta say...I love when he's the dominant one. "Tate," I whimper, closing my eyes. "Shut the fuck up." He says in a dominant tone. "I'm just so clingy, right?" He says with anger. He rips off my tank top, my bra and throws it off the bed along with my shorts; surprisingly for him, I had no panties on.

He smirks at me and chuckles lightly. He sucks on my neck roughly and slowly makes his way down to my breasts, fondling with them. He watched as they bounced up and down in awe, "You're such a beautiful whore for me, huh?" I moan lightly, feeling him lick my nipple. "Tate, please.." He immediately covered my mouth shut with his hand.

"If you make one more fucking noise..I swear I'll make you regret it. Do you understand me?" He growls into my ear. I nodded, not wanting to give him any more of reason to get angry with me. "I said, do you understand?" He says, more serious. "Yes, Tate." I groan, in response.

He then placed two fingers on my clit and I instantly feel my body start to heat up. Before I knew it, he was sucking my nipple and biting it hard. It felt like fire is being poured directly into my veins; the only thing that can calm me down would be him. i covered my mouth to try and refrain from any noise coming out by accident. God knows what tate'll do. I am pretty sure he has a lot of rage inside of him.

He moves his head down to my pelvis and soon to my pussy. I could feel myself becoming wetter by the moment. He takes his finger and rubs it around my pussy, teasing me for what seems like forever. Eventually, he spreads my legs wide and puts his head between my thighs and I moaned quietly once I felt his tongue on my clit.

I close my eyes, enjoying the pleasure. He continued licking me and I started to shake a little bit. His tongue was sending chills down my spine.

I look down at him, He was looking back at me with this expression that made me weak. I was scared he was going to stop if he saw how turned on I was. "Tate," I whimpered, "I'm sorry..."

"Tate, please..I can't take it anymore." I whined, and he runs his tongue up my slit. It feels so good, I can barely stand it. "Please, Tate.." I whisper, trying to keep my voice low. He ignores me completely, continuing to suck my clit and run his tongue up and down my slit. The feeling is overwhelming and I couldn't hold it in anymore, "Oh my God! Tate!" I scream out, feeling this blissful sensation take power over me.

I throw my head back, I was so tired to the point where I felt like I could fall asleep right there. But then I felt his tongue in my clit and my body instantly jolted forward again, this time much stronger. My whole body was shaking like crazy now and I closed my eyes tightly.

Tate looks up at me, watching me through half lids. I open my eyes and I see him looking at me with his intense  eyes. I was so sensitive right now that just looking at him could send me to another world. I grab his hair and pulled on it. it felt so  good that it hurt. I wanted to scream out loud. I was in total bliss.

He continues licking and sucking my clit until I felt a powerful orgasm. "Ahh!" I screamed out, feeling my whole body tense up. My body goes limp as I try to regain my regular heart rate. "Oh my God..Tate.." I gasp, throbbing from the aftershocks. I could still feel Tate's tongue still inside of me. He releases my clit and rolls off me, sitting next to me with his back against the bed.

I look at him weakly and he smirks. "Did I make you feel that good, baby?" He teases with a devilish grin on his face. "Fuck you.." I said, closing my eyes, not having enough strength to argue with him. "Aww, I love you too, Y/n.."

A/n: i kind of enjoyed this.

[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter Three

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

A/N: Have another one because I can’t stand not posting chapters when I have them written. Thanks for all the love, seriously! Absolutely insane that this has blown up so fast. I’ve written 30k in a week. God damn. 

Word Count: 7.7k+

Chapter Three

“Fast and painless, right?” you said, looking at Roy. The two of you stood at the end of the red carpet, before the entrance to the charity ball. Paparazzi yelled at players on the carpet, snapping pictures incessantly.

“That’s the plan. I’ve been doing this for too fucking long. Trust me,” he replied, and just for that brief moment, you found that you trusted Roy Kent wholeheartedly. He stuck his arm out for you. “Come on.”

You laid your hand on his forearm, slinking it together with his own, until you were secure. Roy peered down at you subtly, just for a second, before he started walking. You had no choice but to follow him and match his pace. The two of you booked it down the red carpet, ignoring the sudden flashes of cameras, and the way they were practically begging Roy for a photo.

“No, no, no, no,” he whittled off, and when that didn’t work, he transitioned to, “Fuck off! Fuck off! Fuck off! Fuck off!”

Inside, it was much more subdued. You were thankful for Roy’s support beforehand, even if you felt so fucking silly now that you’d made it. People mingled happily, shaking each other’s hands in introduction. It was easier than you expected. You sat at a table with the guys, alongside Ted and Keeley. Roy placed two beers in front of you, before he dropped down into the seat next to yours with a sigh.

“Made it in one piece,” he said, picking up a beer and bringing it to his lips.

“I’ll definitely be using that method in future,” you replied.

“What, when you become a professional footballer?”

You scoffed. “Exactly.”

You all quietened when Rebecca took the stage. She looked positively frazzled, but you couldn’t deny that she still held such a presence over a room. You admired her, truthfully. Taking over the football club, ignoring whatever shit the tabloids wrote about her, still taking charge where she could.

As she welcomed everyone to the charity ball, a sinking feeling hit your gut in the form of a man in a white fucking suit. He waltzed into the room like he owned it, whispered hello’s to people who recognised him. Suddenly, it was as if no one was listening to Rebecca, instead replacing their gazes onto the man in white, who chose to stand directly in the centre of the room.

“Rebecca, darling!” he announced suddenly, and that’s when your face soured.

Rebecca stopped, frozen. “Rupert,” she said, gobsmacked.

As they kept up their back and forth, you leaned closer to Roy. He shot you a side-eyed glance, taking in the utter confusion on your face. “Who the fuck is that?” you asked him in a whisper.

“Fucking hell,” Roy whispered in reply. “You don’t even know who that is?”

You shrugged, catching his eye. “I told you, I know fuck all.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Roy let out. “That’s Rupert bloody Mannion. Ex-owner of Richmond, and–”

“Rebecca’s ex-husband,” you finished his sentence, before grimacing to oblivion. You’d never seen his face until now, and you silently thanked some god out there that you hadn’t. “I think he’s the biggest sleaze I’ve ever fucking seen.”

Roy choked on his drink loudly, alerting the room to his presence suddenly. Rupert stopped gabbing over Rebecca’s speech to look at his old team Captain, and let out a sickening chuckle. You elbowed Roy in his ribs abruptly, and he looked up instantly.

“Is that Roy Kent?” Rupert asked, projecting his voice around the room. He spread his arms out in welcome. “Oh, how good it is to see your face! And the rest of you boys, too.” He addressed the rest of the table, strolling closer to all of you.

The guys stayed where they were, silent and glued to their seats. You, however, wished you could leave immediately.

“I swear, Roy,” you whispered frantically, as Rupert continued to approach. “If this man so much as looks at me I’m going to whack him in the–”

“And do my eyes deceive me, Roy, or is that a lovely lady that you’ve brought with you?” Rupert continued. You wanted to vomit.

Quickly, you looked to Rebecca on stage. She was utterly frozen, dealing with both the shock and anger of having Rupert arrive out of the blue, only to upstage her in the middle of her welcome speech. You didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that Rupert was a narcissistic piece of shit, just from one bloody look. You’d been around men enough to spot a red flag in a sea of blue and red Richmond shirts.

Roy straightened himself out, as Rupert placed his hand on the top of his chair. He peered down at the pair of you, smiling in a way that could only be described as utterly disgusting.

“Rupert,” Roy said plainly, ignoring his prior question. You kept your eyes forward, ignoring the sickening look that Rupert was flicking between yourself and Roy.

“Nice to see you again, Captain.” He slammed his hand down on Roy’s shoulder once, before he went back to addressing the entire room.

You let out a pent up breath that you didn’t realise you’d been holding. Beside you, Roy relaxed back into his seat the further Rupert walked from your table. At the same time, the both of you reached for your beers. You both downed the remainder of your bottles, dropping them, utterly empty, back onto the tabletop afterwards.

“Another beer?” Roy asked, and you got his message immediately. He was saying let’s get the fuck out of here.

“Please.” You stood immediately, not giving a shit when you sauntered past Rupert, with Roy on your tail.

The two of you stayed at the bar until things had died down, which by all accounts, was a long fucking time. The room had gone back to its normal level of stardom, and Rebecca had managed to finish the rest of her welcome address. A few empty bottles covered the bar where you and Roy stood, gabbing away as if you were at the fucking pub, instead of at a prestigious charity event.

You clutched your fingers over your mouth, trying to hold in a colossal laugh. In front of you, Roy kept digging deeper into the story he was telling you, and it was only making it worse. You were laughing so hard that you were sure you’d burst, and when you got a few seconds of peace to glimpse at him, you were happy to see the smallest curl of a smile on his lips, too. You’d been talking about boy bands for an hour and found yourself thinking– if it stayed like this for the rest of the night, then you’d be happy.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you burst finally, letting the last of your agonising chuckles trickle from your mouth. You clutched your middle, feeling the welcomed pain of too much laughter. “I used to be a massive fan of them growing up, you know?”

“One Direction?” Roy questioned, almost like he was offended, until he skidded his eyes down you quickly. “Oh, well, that makes sense. You were a teenage girl at one point, surely?”

You scoffed, actually offended. “What do you mean surely?” you let out. “Incase you forgot already, Roy, I do happen to be a woman.”

“No fucking waaaay,” he breathed out, faking amazement. “That’s insane.”

A few trickles of laughter erupted between the two of you, but were abruptly cut off by a flustered Rebecca. She bombarded towards the bar, as if on a warpath. “The auction is in a minute, Roy. Back to your seats,” she directed, leaving both of you with a scolded look upon your faces.

“The auction?” you asked. “I had no idea you were such an… art curator.”

Roy picked up two new beer bottles, as the two of you started heading back to your table. “It’s not a bloody art auction.”

“What kind of auction is it, then?”

As if on cue, Rupert emerged onto the stage to a round of applause from the audience. You couldn’t help your scowl, but you perked up when you saw Jamie follow him onto the stage. “Now, now, it’s time for the best event of the night– the auction! And first up, we have none other than Richmond striker, number nine, Jamie Tartt!” Rupert announced, and your quizzical look turned into full on disgust.

As you and Roy sat back down, you erupted. “Are you fucking kidding me? They’re auctioning off you guys?”

“It’s a tradition,” Keeley said, though she didn’t look any more impressed as you.

“Oh, sorry. It’s just when someone says charity that doesn’t usually bring trafficking to mind.” You leaned back in your chair and crossed your legs. Roy handed you a beer, but you were so annoyed that you didn’t even think to thank him.

“Shall we start the bidding off at one thousand pounds?” Rupert continued, and an all-out bidding war began– just not with Keeley.

For a moment, it was only an older woman who was interested, but when a different woman- younger, blonder, fitter– got involved, Keeley could barely contain her anger. She cleared her throat, looking at you sternly. “Not fucking today,” she said, before she raised her own paddle. “Five thousand pounds!” she bid.

“Eight thousand!” the blonde behind her said, and all it did was piss Keeley off further.

“Ten!” Keeley said.

“Eleven,” the other woman said.

It was constant, and as stressful as it was sat next to Keeley herself, Jamie was lapping up the fight for himself on stage. He stuck his tongue out arrogantly, taking in the bidding war with nothing less than the smile that he wore on the pitch, right after scoring a goal.

“This is vile,” you commented, and Roy perked his brow at you.

“Even worse when you think about her,” Roy added, pointing to the older woman who had been adamant to snag Jamie for herself. “She wins me every year, and each date has been worse than the fucking last. I had to leave her on the street in Hammersmith last time, ‘cause she’d booked us a cab to go back to hers for dessert.”

You grimaced. “You’re footballers, not fucking escorts.” For a second, Roy casually contemplated a career as an escort. He shrugged, almost like he didn’t mind. You scowled immediately. “I hate this.”

When Jamie’s bidding war finally ended, going to Keeley for a steep fifteen thousand, Roy readied himself to go on stage. He did up the middle button of his jacket and cleared his throat, before he stood. You had the strangest urge to protest, to stand up and say that this was all fucking weird, but you kept your mouth shut.

When Jamie returned to the table, Keeley was sharp with him. The blonde sat behind you had obviously got to her, and for good reason. You didn’t know the extent of Keeley and Jamie’s relationship, but you knew them individually, and that was enough to know that Keeley definitely deserved more. You could appreciate his talent, his skill, his work ethic, but the way Jamie Tartt treated people didn’t match up.

You peered back at the older woman; she licked her lips as Roy made his way onstage. It made you feel somewhere between sick and angry. “Next up is Richmond’s Captain, number six, you all know and love him– Roy Kent!” Rupert announced, and Roy reluctantly took the stage.

“God, don’t let her bloody win,” you muttered, and Keeley let out a small laugh beside you.

“She’s always on a rampage,” she said, smiling, but you saw a glint in her eyes– she was hurt, and Jamie had done fuck all to make her feel any better.

“Shall we start the bidding off at–?”

“Five thousand pounds!” the older woman interrupted Rupert, booming her shrill voice over the room.

Onstage, Roy mouthed fucks sake. On Keeley’s other side, Jamie started laughing. You wanted to whack him because of his overly obnoxious behaviour, but instead settled on rolling your eyes. Keeley froze next to you, and you felt like something was brewing within her.

“Five thousand going once,” Rupert said. “Going twice!”

“Six thousand!” Keeley erupted suddenly, and you snapped your gaze onto her.

You weren’t naive. As Keeley and the older woman got into another bidding war, you knew exactly why she was getting involved with Roy’s auction. It was to piss off Jamie. She wanted to spite him by bidding on Roy– his obvious fucking enemy. You let out a silent groan, sending up a prayer to whoever was listening for this shit to end. It was like you’d been sat at a table for secondary school kids instead of professional athletes.

“Eight thousand!” the older woman said.

“Ten thousand pounds!” Keeley yelled louder, and that was your last straw.

Quickly, you grabbed her by her bicep. “Keeley,” you whispered harshly. “Stop it. This is childish. And this isn’t fucking fair on Roy.”

Keeley turned to you, looking thoroughly chastised. It took her a moment, but when she breathed out, you saw her true nature return. “Yeah,” she said sullenly. “You’re right.” She sighed, and put her paddle down. Sending an angry look at Jamie, she got up and left the table.

“Eleven thousand!” the older woman countered.

Rupert perked his brow. “Oh? Is that it, then? Eleven thousand going once…”

You peered over at Jamie, who didn’t look happy at all. The atmosphere on the table had dropped significantly, but you were just glad that it was almost over.

“Eleven thousand going twice!” Rupert continued, and you looked towards Roy onstage.

He caught your eye as you looked towards him, and there was something that switched within you. Almost instantly, you held the determination of your whole table– all of whom were tired of being paraded around and bought, even if it was for fucking charity. You weren’t going to let the old bat win another year in a row.

You stood up quickly, grabbing your paddle and raising it to the sky. “Twelve thousand pounds!”

Rupert’s grin was practically off the charts. “Oh, we have a new bidder! Twelve thousand for the Richmond Captain!”

“Thirteen thousand!” the oldie hit back.

“Fourteen!” You peered back at her, shooting her a death stare.

“Fifteen!”

“Sixteen!”

She stood up, her knees creaking as she did so. “Eighteen thousand!”

“Eighteen thousand for Richmond’s Captain!” Rupert exclaimed over the mic.

You hesitated just for a moment, before taking another look at Roy. He must know you didn’t actually have eighteen fucking grand to give away. He must know that you were only doing this to save him from another god awful date with that geriatric nymphomaniac.

You smacked your hand on the tabletop suddenly, scaring Jamie out of his skin. “Twenty-five thousand!” you practically screamed it, and in response garnered a huge round of applause and cheers from the other guests.

“Twenty-five going once!” Rupert said, and the oldie behind you finally started to falter. “Going twice!” he added, as tension stuck itself to every corner of the fucking room. “Gone!”

The crowds erupted even further, with a few actually coming up to shake you by the hand afterwards. Rupert’s laughter reverberated around the entire hall, and when you looked at Roy, you were happy to see relief all over his face.

Rupert whacked a hand down on Roy’s shoulder. “Well, well, well, Mr. Kent,” he began. “It seems to me that you’ve found yourself a real keeper.”

As the hall died down to a better level, Roy returned to the table. Ted and Rebecca had disappeared off somewhere, and you were biting back the adrenaline that coursed throughout your whole body. You could see now why people got hooked on gambling.

Roy sank into the seat next to yours, picked up his beer and downed the contents. When he put the empty bottle back on the table, he leaned closer to you. “I’m assuming that I’m forking up twenty-five grand, right?”

“Yep,” you said immediately. You gulped back your own beer, copying him by placing your empty bottle next to his.

“Another beer?” he asked, and you sent him a surprised look. You’d just forced him into giving up twenty-five grand, all to avoid a bad date, and he didn’t seem angry in any way.

“Why aren’t you pissed at me?” you asked.

Roy draped his arm over the back of your chair and crossed his legs comfortably. He leaned towards you, looking so relaxed now that you wouldn’t have been able to recognise the man he was on stage. “Do you want me to be pissed?”

“No,�� you said, crossing your arms. “I was just wondering why not.”

“Because you just saved my fucking skin, that’s why,” Roy said.

“Yeah, and lost you twenty-five fucking grand, Roy,” you whispered harshly.

Roy scoffed. “I’m a fucking footballer.”

You shrugged. “Fair enough.” The two of you rose together, headed for the bar again, leaving Jamie and Keeley to their awkward silence.

The rest of the evening seemed to run smoothly, until the abrupt announcement that Robbie Williams was sadly not performing. You frowned from the bar, while Roy silently rejoiced by downing another beer. The atmosphere had mellowed to something you were better suited for, but that all went to shit when Jamie approached the bar. Keeley was nowhere to be found, but the immediate daggers that shot between Jamie and Roy were more than noticeable.

You tapped your nails against your beer bottle, waiting for either of them to speak first. It seemed to be a running theme, you noticed, that Jamie and Roy fucking hated one another. You could understand why– Jamie was overly arrogant, on and off the pitch. Roy had dealt with all kinds of people throughout his career, and simply didn’t have the tether to put up with them anymore.

“So,” Jamie broke the silence. “Twenty-five grand.”

Roy growled in reply. You took that as the perfect time to leave them to it. You headed to the bathroom, just from the sheer lack of where else to fucking go. You weren’t in the mood to mingle in the main hall, too afraid that Rupert would do the rounds once more. Opening the door to the bathrooms, you immediately found Rebecca and Keeley by the sinks.

“Oh!” you exclaimed. “Sorry. I was wondering where you’d both gone off to.”

Keeley turned to you first, and you instantly knew something was wrong. One glance at Rebecca confirmed the fact– something had definitely happened. “What’s wrong?” You placed a gentle hand on Keeley’s shoulder. “Jamie?” Keeley nodded sullenly. “You deserve more, Keeley. So much more.”

She smiled at you sadly, but there was a finality within her glistening eyes. She looked almost relieved, even though she hadn’t pulled the bandaid off yet. Secretly, you knew this would be a reality call for Jamie, too. Just because he was young and successful didn’t give him the right to treat others like dirt. Outside at the bar, you hoped Roy was saying the same, just not in a way that would start a fucking fight between them.

You headed to a stall, but stopped before you could shut the door. “For the record,” you said, turning back to the ladies. “Rebecca, you deserve more, too.” Rebecca’s face softened into something warm. “Even looking at Rupert made me feel like I needed to take a fucking shower.” Rebecca scoffed abruptly. She raised her martini to you, and you finally shut the stall door.

You had always been good at Irish goodbyes. It was one of your top skills, and had a close to one hundred percent success rate. At an event like this, you didn’t doubt it would also work wonders. After the bathroom, you glanced at the bar to find it empty of any footballers. That was a good enough cue to finally call it a night.

You left the venue, only to be hit by a crisp Richmond breeze. Immediately, you regretted not bringing a jacket. You knew it was a matter of time before it came to bite you in the arse, but you hadn’t been thinking before you’d jumped into Roy’s Jeep earlier. Another breeze rushed past you, making goosebumps prickle against your skin. “Fuuucking hell,” you muttered, descending the steps outside and trying to remember the way home.

You stood on the pavement, looking left and right, trying to gauge where in Richmond you actually were. Your bare arms shook as another breeze hit you, but they were relieved when something warm draped over them without warning.

Peering behind you, you caught the sight of Roy’s strong jawline. He finished draping his jacket over you, before he stuck his hands in his pockets and stood next to you.

“You just ruined it,” you let out, sighing. “I was trying to sneak out without anyone noticing.”

Roy perked his brow at you. “You fucking failed, then. And, by the looks of it, would have frozen to death on the fucking spot if it weren’t for me.”

“And I saved you from a borderline unethical date with a geriatric millionaire, who only wanted to jump your fucking bones,” you hit back with.

“Yeah, you did,” Roy acknowledged. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

You shrugged. “I figured it was better me, over her or Keeley.”

“You can fucking say that again.” Roy scuffed his feet on the pavement.

“I told her to knock it off,” you said. “It’s not fun when you get unwillingly involved in someone else’s relationship problems.”

“You sound like you’re talking from experience, there.” Roy peered down at you questioningly.

You scoffed, looking back at him playfully. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Oh, really? Care to tell me on the walk home?” he asked, sneaking in a quick ask about walking home together in the process.

A wall of caution sprung up within you. It dawned on you then that you’d spent the entire evening with Roy, tied at the fucking hip. He’d bought all your drinks, comforted you before arriving, driven you here, and was the very reason you’d been invited in the first place. Sure, you were a bit drunk, but not too drunk to realise that this wasn’t exactly casual.

You felt like you knew Roy well enough to know he wasn’t anything but decent, but he was also a professional footballer. His face was present in tabloids twice a week, with stories ranging from women, to messy nights out that people had somehow photographed without him knowing. There was a fine line between colleagues and friends, and an even finer line between colleagues and whoops, we just fell into bed together, didn’t we? You didn’t want to cross that line to oblivion.

That’s what you kept in mind as the two of you stumbled home. Roy’s jacket did make a world of difference, and when you slotted your arms through the sleeves they went past your fingertips. The two of you navigated Richmond neighbourhoods, commenting on the big fucking houses down Roy’s road.

“That one is far too bougie,” you said, pointing at a mansion that was entirely glass-fronted. “It’s literally a stalker's dream. From a high up window you’d be able to see every fucking thing that went on inside.”

“Sounds like you’re talking from experience about that, too,” Roy said, smiling at his own dig subtly.

“Oh, you caught me,” you said, melodramatically clutching a hand to your chest. “I’m Richmond’s biggest mansion stalker. I see a house made completely from glass and orgasm on the spot.”

Roy huffed through his nose, amused. “Who are your targets? Billionaires? Lawyers? Footballers?”

“Depends,” you said. “Is your house made completely out of glass?”

“Fuck no,” Roy said. “I do have a skylight above my bed, though.”

“Damn,” you said. “I’ll have to expand my stalking to drone footage, too.”

“Sounds like a good investment,” Roy added, before he peered down at you. You took a moment to look up at him, too, and shared a smile with one another. Inside your head, you were screaming at yourself about the wall you’d erected earlier.

Roy stopped walking suddenly, and you let out a small squeak as you tried to stop at the same time as him. It was clear you’d both drunk a lot, but it was all in good fun. “This is me,” Roy said then, pointing to the house before you.

Your eyes widened immediately. Before you stood a huge house, decorated with bushes and a large blossom tree out front. You felt the absence of his Jeep in the driveway, but it allowed for you to see the massive front door– made from solid oak, with a shining knocker right in the centre. It was easily three storeys high, and through one of the large windows, you caught a glimpse of a framed football shirt. This was definitely Roy Kent’s house.

“Fuck me,” you said involuntarily. Roy actually scoffed, which was a different kind of shock entirely. “You weren’t kidding about it being one of the big, fuck off houses, then.”

“Why would I lie about having a great fucking house?”

“No, no. I’m not judging here,” you said, keeping your gaze on the building before you. “You’re right. That’s a great fucking house.”

There was a moment of silence that settled over the two of you, only made more intense by the light of the moon, and the utter lack of stars that graced the sky in London. You sucked in a deep breath as you looked back at Roy, only to find his gaze on you already. You smiled, he smiled back subtly, and your gut lurched within you.

Roy shuffled on his spot, before clearing his throat. “Wanna come in for a drink?”

There was a feeling that descended upon you, one that was not at all mature and one hundred percent giddy. You’d been in this position multiple times, but with Roy it felt different. He was your work colleague, for starters, and that wall that you’d forced yourself to build was still erected, as much as a part of you was trying to knock it down with a fucking sledgehammer.

You sucked in a sharp breath. “It’s waaay past ten-thirty,” you let out.

“Ah,” Roy said, catching on immediately. “I forgot you were a boring uni student.”

“Boring masters student. But, yes.” You took a small step back, fully cementing that you wouldn’t be joining him for another drink this evening. “Another time,” you added, simply because you wanted to grab a drink with Roy in future. You didn’t want to ward him off, or make him feel like you were rejecting him, as much as that would be okay, too.

Roy shot you an expression he’d never shown you before. It wasn’t blunt, so to say, but it wasn’t sweet, either. It was some form of middle ground. It told you that he understood, but also reassured you that this wasn’t a big deal. It was crazy how much of an expression interpreter you became when you weren’t bloody sober.

“Another time,” Roy repeated after a moment. Gently, you started taking off his jacket, but he waved at you in dismissal. “Keep it for the walk home,” he said.

You huffed at him, but did as you were told. “Thank you,” you let out.

Roy nodded, as you took another step back. “See you on Monday?” you asked rhetorically.

“See you on Monday,” he confirmed.

You took another step back, almost stumbling into the road. Roy lurched forward quickly, just in case he needed to grab you and stop you from falling flat on your face, but you stabilised yourself. Flustered, you let out a breathy chuckle. Laughter echoed down his fancy as fuck road, before disappearing into the crisp night.

You sent one final smile Roy’s way, before you finally swivelled on your heels, headed for your road a bit further down. Roy slowly stepped towards his front door, keeping a watchful eye on you as you tread further down the road.

“Goodnight,” he let out, raising his voice a bit to reach you down the street.

You turned back to him, walking backwards for a few paces. “Goodnight!” you replied, waving your arm wildly in the air at him.

When you faced forward again, you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. Nothing would come from this, you told yourself, but it didn’t stop it from feeling nice. Having a genuinely pleasant night with someone that you’d never– in a million fucking years– thought you’d gel with, was oddly fulfilling. When you thought back to the month before, it made you want to cackle maniacally to yourself. It was funny, wasn’t it? How things could change so fast, how they could evolve into you having a really great fucking evening with someone you previously couldn’t stand to be around, let alone talk to.

You pulled off your shoes when you arrived home, ready to utterly collapse into bed. Your phone dinged in your clutch before you could. You picked it up, utterly surprised to see a text from Roy waiting for you.

Get home safe.

You replied simply.

I did.

Roy replied instantly.

Good.

You thought that would be it, dropping your phone onto your bed as you went to strip off your clothes. Heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed, you shut the door behind you. Roy texted you again, one that you wouldn’t see until you woke up in the morning.

Sleep well.

A week later, as you sat in the owners box next to Keeley and Rebecca, your heart was in your throat. As Ted bombarded down the steps back to the field, you were in the same boat as everyone in wondering why– Ted had decided to bench Jamie Tartt for the rest of the game, despite him scoring a goal for Richmond not two minutes before.

Rebecca looked slightly shaken, but there was also an underlying happiness to her mood. You noticed that she acted odd, sometimes. Such as when Richmond were doing well, she would join in with fake enthusiasm. When they were doing terribly, it was customary to find her with a smile stamped all over her face. It was the same one she showed now, as Ted made a show of benching Jamie, and the home crowd at the Dogtrack exploded.

Jamie Tartt was pissed off. He was seething as he went to sit down, and went as far as kicking one of the chairs for the rest of the team reserves. You winced when you saw it, alongside hundreds of other fans, but that’s when you chose to look over to Roy.

He was on the pitch with his hands on his hips, and an oddly calm expression stamped on his face. Within you, you silently relaxed. You knew that if Roy wasn’t freaking out, then he understood Lasso’s reasons for what he’d done. You leaned back in your seat casually, causing a flustered Keeley to peer at you.

“What are you so bloody relaxed for? Jamie’s going to burn this place to the fucking ground.” She turned back to the pitch, watching the remaining two minutes of extra time before half time. Despite breaking up with the ace at the charity ball, Keeley still knew Jamie through and through.

You leaned forward and pointed to the pitch. “There,” you said, and Keeley followed your finger. “Look at Roy. He’s the calmest I’ve ever seen him on the pitch.”

“Yeah, because his arch nemesis has just been benched,” Keeley said.

“No, no. As much as Roy hates him, I know he’d be equally as fucked off and confused if Lasso had pulled Jamie for no reason. But, look, he’s absolutely fine.”

Keeley turned to you. “So, you think it was the right decision?”

You shrugged. “I don’t fucking know. All that I know is that, when I’m confused, I look at Roy’s reaction. I go with whatever emotion he’s sending into the void, and somehow it all just works out fine.”

Keeley leaned back slightly, looking at you in confusion. “It’s like you guys are telepathic, or something.” She snapped her head towards Roy again. “That’s fucking amazing.”

Over the next few weeks, things start feeling like home to you. Two months down the line and it was as if you’d known the guys for years. It was normal for you to join them for team nights out, and normal for them to poke their heads around your office door from time to time. Every time you passed the gym, or the locker room, or the pitch, there would always be at least one lad who spotted you. He’d wave, and that would alert everyone else to your presence, until all of them had waved at you in greeting.

Roy was the same, but in his own way. Since the charity ball, it was clear that there was something there, no matter how small. There was a shared understanding between the two of you that was larger than what you had with the rest of the team. You couldn’t explain it, not even when you dedicated time to try and work out what it was.

You still had his jacket at home, up on the peg by your door, just waiting to be returned. There was something that halted you from dropping it around to him, however, and Roy hadn’t brought it up since the month before, either. There was some unspoken thing about it, you felt, that travelled back to when you’d both said another time.

Maybe that was it, hm? When that inevitable another time happened, you’d return the jacket then. But for now, it offered you a gentle reminder of Roy fucking Kent everytime you entered or left your flat. It was odd to think about it, but you saw everyone at Richmond most days of the week. Weekends were reserved for friends and family, naturally, but on a dull Saturday night you often found yourself with the urge to call one of the guys and see what they were up to.

Was this what having attachment issues felt like? You fucking hoped not.

Jamie had been off with everyone since Ted benched him. He was ruder, and more disrespectful, often showing up late for practice or leaving early without warning. To the team, he was still arrogant and self-serving; even more so towards Roy. Ted’s attempts at laying a stable groundwork with Tartt hadn’t seemed to stick, and everyone had been feeling it.

That was made worse by the arrival of a new striker by the name of Dani Rojas. Jamie had already been pushed into the proverbial corner, and when Dani showed off his moves on the pitch for the first time, it was clear that they were on par with each other. You spent those first few days confined to your office, trying to avoid the lot of them and miss being within firing range of Tartt’s next tantrum.

Later on, after Jamie ditched another practice session, you checked your inbox to find an intriguing email. It was forwarded from the university, but originally from the Independent. You read it silently, and after you were done, you immediately went to find Keeley. Rebecca had recently set her up with a job doing PR for the club, which made your life exponentially easier. She was better at social media, at getting brand deals and the like. You were a writer, not a publicist. You entered the press room and found her sitting at her temporary desk.

She turned to you and smiled. “Hey, babe,” she said sweetly. “You okay?”

You sighed, taking a seat opposite her, on the front row. “The Independent is running a competition for all MA students in London. Writers, journalists, sports students, all of that,” you explained. “If we write an article about a sportsman or woman, it could get published in the paper, on the front page of the sports section.” You dragged your hands down your face when you’d finished, and Keeley let out a huff at her desk.

“Babes, that’s an amazing opportunity!” she exclaimed.

“I know,” you whined, and dropped your hands into your lap.

Keeley straightened in her chair, looking at you softly. “Is there any reason why you don’t seem particularly excited about it?”

You peered at her, and it clicked instantly. She returned your stare with a knowing look, one that was warm and gentle, one that understood. After that, she furrowed her brows and sent you a soft smile. It wasn’t often that people could read you so easily, and when Keeley did it, it only made you feel more connected to her.

She let out a sigh. “There’s no harm in asking him.” Roy. She meant Roy.

“No,” you said immediately. “I said I wouldn’t ask him about any of this shit anymore, even if it is a great opportunity for me. You know how much he hates it,” you said. “I suppose I could do it about Ted, but Trent Crimm wrote a great article for him last month. And the boys, I mean– Richmond are always in the paper and the tabloids. I feel like I wouldn’t be adding to their stories.”

“That’s why you want to write about Roy,” Keeley stated.

You leant forward, finally bursting. “Yes! I do! Roy’s career has been explosive and intriguing and heart-warming. His Chelsea days were legendary, and the way he’s captained Richmond has been second to none. Why would anyone not want to write about him?”

Keeley stood up slowly, rounding her desk to sit in the chair next to you. Gently, she placed her hands over your knuckles. “Just ask him.”

“I don’t know how to,” you let out.

“Tell him the truth,” she said. “Say this is a great opportunity for you, and you can make it as painless as humanly possible for him.”

“I mean, I wasn’t going to shadow him, or anything. I thought we’d go to the pub and talk for a few hours, really. It wasn’t going to be a proper interview.”

“That’s good,” Keeley said, squeezing your hands in approval. “Tell him that, too.”

“And if it all goes tits up?” you asked.

Keeley shrugged her shoulders, and let out a small laugh. “No one can know which way it’ll go with Roy. I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you’re thinking right now, though.”

It was then that the anxious pit in your stomach started to clear. You looked at Keeley with your eyes large and glassy. You wondered if she knew all the thoughts that were rushing through your brain about you and Roy– how the main reason for not wanting to ask him was about not wanting to fuck up the friendship you’d both stumbled into. Especially after how things had started, you didn’t want it all to revert to that hostile environment.

“Babes,” Keeley whispered, leaning closer to you. “I don’t think you realise how likeable you are. The guys love you, and the coaches. Roy fits into that box, too.” Her reassuring words sunk into your skin, until you finally felt at ease. “And me, obviously,” she added quickly.

You huffed. “Thanks, Keeley,” you whispered. She draped her arms around you then, and you rested your head on her shoulder. Sometimes, a hug was all you needed to feel grounded.

You went back to your office to find another book from Sam, on your desk. He wrote small post-its for you and stuck them on the covers of each one he gave, and you secretly kept them all in the bottom drawer of your desk. You sat down and huffed to yourself, picking up his newest pick. The post-it read– Truthfully, this one did make me cry. Tell me if you do, too.

You stuck the post-it onto the pile of others in your bottom drawer, before you placed the book on a small shelf to your right. Shuffling in your bag, you found your next book for him. It was like clockwork, and you loved that this was something you’d started up with him. You left your office and headed for the gym, knowing it was time for the guys to do their second work-out of the day.

When you arrived, you sent a quick wave to all the guys, before seeking out Sam. He was on the bike, pumping his legs hard as he kept up his heart rate. You approached him, and draped your arms over the top of the stationary handle-bars. He smiled at you hugely, and you hovered the book out before him. “Fantastic,” he said softly, taking it from your grasp. “I was waiting for the day you would share your favourite classics with me.” It was a copy of The Great Gatsby.

“Am I that predictable?” you asked.

“Very,” Sam let out.

You huffed, amused. “Well, enjoy it. I look forward to reading yours, too.”

Sam clutched the book to his heart in thanks, before you swivelled on your heels and headed back towards the door. On the way, you noticed Roy on the treadmill, doing his normal incline walk. Keeley’s words surged within you, and you told yourself not to chicken out. Now was as good a time as any to ask. It would save you the time it took to worry beforehand.

You let out a deep breath, before walking towards him. He peered down at you, as you turned yourself round to face him, and leaned against the windowsill before him. He perked one of his black, bushy brows at you. “Can I help you?” he asked. There was a running theme between you. Most of your conversations started with that same question.

“The Independent is running a competition for MA students in London. It’ll result in one of us having an article published, and run on the first page of the sports section.” You laid it all out for him, expecting him to shut you down immediately, but he stayed silent. “I know how you feel about this sort of thing, which is why I’d never force you into doing this for me, again. But…” You looked up at him strongly, almost pleadingly. “This is a great opportunity for me, Roy. I can’t just write about anyone, either.”

“Why not?” he asked. His voice croaked, like he was struggling to get them out.

“Because.” You shuffled on your spot, something that you did when you knew you were being openly vulnerable. “I want to write about you.”

Roy looked to his feet, rhythmically stomping upon the treadmill beneath him. You could hear the cogs in his brain turning and whining, and you instantly felt guilty. You didn’t want to put him on the spot, and you’d seen what he could be like when he was. You half expected him to tell you to fuck off, but he didn’t. He just kept looking at his feet, walking to nowhere.

You inhaled deeply, taking matters into your own hands. “Don’t worry about it,” you said, and Roy looked at you once more. “I just thought I’d ask. This isn’t compulsory, so don’t worry.” You smiled at him, but he didn’t smile back. Instead, his mouth dropped open like he wanted to say something, but simply couldn’t get the words out. “See you around, Roy.”

You made to leave quickly, not wanting to stick around. Innately, you cursed at yourself for even asking in the first place. Keeley was right about it not doing any harm, but all it had done was make you feel bad.

“Hold it!” Roy boomed suddenly, and you turned back to him abruptly. The guys in the gym stopped working out, and you felt your stomach drop once more. Roy switched off the treadmill and jumped to the floor. “Just the one article?” he asked.

You nodded, gaining back some of your composure. “Only one.”

“How many people compete in this thing?” he asked.

“Um.” You wracked your brain, trying to figure out the average. “A few hundred, at least.”

“So, there’s a high probability that you won’t win,” Roy said, and you widened your eyes. He didn’t mean it offensively, but it still stung a bit.

“Yes. Very high probability, actually,” you said smally, feeling a tad embarrassed now that he’d explained it that way.

Roy looked at the ground, before he caught your eye strongly. “Okay. I’ll do it.” You sucked in a sharp breath.

“Really?” you asked, taking a few steps towards him.

He nodded, letting out a small growl. You let out an excited squeal, before you rushed at him. You wrapped your arms around his neck in an impromptu hug, muttering thank you over and over again. To the rest of the guys, all they saw was the shocked expression on Roy’s face, and the way his arms were tense at his sides from surprise. He didn’t know what to do with himself, didn’t know whether to wrap his arms around you in response. You pulled away too fast for him to come to a conclusion, and he peered down at you as you started towards the door again.

In the door frame, you turned back to him one last time. “Seriously, Roy,” you let out. “Thank you.” You tried to fit as much genuine feeling within your words as you possibly could.

Roy’s face softened subtly. You sent a final smile at him, before you left and headed back to your office. The gym stayed awkwardly silent as the guys laid their eyes over a statuesque Roy. He balled his fists when it all got to be too much, and let out a guff “Fucking get back to work!” to break open the tension.

The lads restarted their work-outs immediately, acting as if nothing had happened whatsoever. Roy jumped back onto the treadmill and started his walk once more. Through the window in front of him, he saw the open door to your office. If he moved slightly to the left, he could catch a glimpse of you, sitting at your desk, writing frantically on your laptop– utterly beaming.  

CHAPTER FOUR

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