#but they were having a 'we have just opened' kind of sale so you got 20% off if your order was $15+

[werewolf-transgenderism]

Quest: do one (1) selfish thing for yourself today 💞

just ordered a latte, a bagel with scallion cream cheese, a donut for later, and also a smoothie that I'm gonna stick in the freezer for when it's a million degrees out this afternoon :)

[abnerkrill]

fantastic rebuttal to "writers don't deserve better pay because the stuff they write is terrible/unoriginal", full thread here

(to explain, the "Unknown" under his name is from a add-on bot detector; it usually can assign a percentage likelihood that a user is a human being and not a bot, but I think the blue check system disrupted the add-on so it says "Unknown" underneath his name now.)

[image id under the read more:

May 7, 2023 tweet thread from Tom Vaughan @/storyandplot

With #WGAStrong rightfully in the spotlight this week, I've seen some less-than-sympathetic comments focusing on the lack of originality in our projects. This is a fair criticism of the system, but not the writers. A quick history of how we got here (thread emoji)

The first thing to understand is that Hollywood has NOT run out of new ideas. The studio’s preference for I.P. has nothing to do with regurgitating ideas and everything to do with MARKETING.

The late 60s-70s is generally considered the artistic high of the studio system. Ironically, many contribute this to corporations buying up the studios! The corporations knew they had no idea how to run a movie studio, so... they put creative people in charge.

This is how you got the run of so many great films the studios would never make today. They also took bigger chances on young, promising talent (the first "film school generation" of filmmakers.)

But with the success of JAWS and STAR WARS, the corporations demanded more of those kinds of hits. The creative folks insisted such things were unpredictable, and the business folks said let's make them less so.

(Sidenote: This was also the same time a completely different phenomenon was happening. A/C was becoming the norm for theatres, making summer movie-going much more attractive.)

Over the next decade, more and more MBAs and marketing people gained influence in the studio system. Being business folks, huge hits were not a creative problem as much as a product/marketing problem.

The 80s is when the “high concept” became pre-eminent because it narrowed a sales pitch to one sentence, a trailer, and a poster. This made everyone a marketing agent for a movie because everyone could explain what it was about!

In the 90s, marketing became just as important as the film itself (reflected in their respective budgets) when Hollywood discovered they could profit from fifty years of pre-existing awareness for old TV shows and movies.

This allowed the marketing department to move away from pitching a movie and convincing you to go see it (lower success rate), to simple “audience awareness” and building anticipation. (higher success rate.)

The audience knew what THE FLINSTONES the movie was. They just needed to know the casting and when it opened. No one needed to have the remake of GODZILLA explained to them. They just needed to know when it opened.

The marketing department prefers AWARNESS over SELLING because awareness is something you can throw money at. Selling is harder, and it’s less predictable. This is why franchises are so valuable.

Whenever someone says, “That’s something I can sell!” It’s usually something that can sell itself. What they mean is, "I just have to let people know about this!"

Hollywoods's reliance on property the audience is already familiar with is 100% because... the audience is already familiar with it. It is easier to market the product and this increases its chances of success.

This focus on I.P. has become so pervasive, many, including executives themselves, have forgotten WHY it's valuable. They'll option an unknown comic BECAUSE it's I.P., forgetting that it's unknown and lacks the main asset of I.P.

Writers do love writing on an I.P. that means something to them. Every Star Wars fan who became a filmmaker would love to work in that universe. But we do not love it more than our own original work. We would always rather work on that.

So when you see another remake, or reboot, or adaptation, and think, "Can't they come up with something new?"

Remember, the answer is yes. Yes, we can. And we want to. You can blame the market or the marketing, but either way, the widespread production of truly original content is just not the studio business model we're in right now. #WGAStrong

end ID.]

[theshift]

The Deal

It all started when I moved to a new city after college. I was lucky enough to land an entry-level job in HR, but the pay was dismal. Still, it was a fresh start—leaving my family and friends behind to carve out a new life. I knew that making friends quickly would be key to adjusting to this new chapter of my life, or I'd end up feeling pretty isolated. Fortunately, I hit it off with a coworker who invited me to play basketball at a local community group, and that's where I met Marco.

He caught my eye immediately—a man in his mid-forties, tall, fit, with a commanding presence. I played it cool, waiting for my coworker to introduce us. "Marco, meet my new friend Lukas," my coworker said. "He just moved here." Marco gave me a firm handshake, grinning. "Glad to have you, Lukas. But I’ve got one question—are you any good?"

I smirked, trying to play it cool. "Well, I guess you're about to find out."

I was humbled pretty quickly. Basketball was still new to me, and it showed. But Marco didn’t seem to care. Throughout the game, I’d catch him glancing at me, more interested in me than the game itself. As the game wrapped up, he called out smugly, "All talk for someone who didn’t even score once!" Exhausted and out of my depth, I just laughed. Afterward, Marco introduced me to his wife, Serena. They had been happily married for 21 years, since right out of college. It was a bit of a bummer finding out he was married, but I was happy to have found a group to hang out with—and Marco seemed really keen to get to know me.

Our friendship grew from there. We’d meet up sometimes for basketball practice, where he’d help me improve my skills. Eventually, our meetups turned into grabbing drinks together. Marco got me into craft beer, and as the months passed, we both started to open up. He told me about his life—how he owned a medical sales business, how well it was doing, and how he had two sons in college. He spoke glowingly of his wife, saying he knew he had met his soulmate. 

I shared my own struggles—how I was excited about starting my career, but also how tough it was financially. Marco gave me advice, encouraging me whenever I needed a boost.

One day, Serena was away on a business trip for the weekend, and Marco invited me over to watch a football game. After a couple of beers, Marco turned to me and, out of nowhere, said, "You know, Lukas, I’m kind of envious of you."

I blinked, surprised. "How come?"

He took another sip of his beer before responding. "No one knows this except you now, but... I’m bisexual. And while I’m grateful for the life I have, I’ve never had the chance to explore that side of myself. I wouldn’t ever jeopardize my marriage, but sometimes I do wish I could be with men."

I was stunned. I didn’t know what to say. Marco looked at me, gauging my reaction, before continuing. "I know this may sound crazy, but I trust you, and I want to ask you a favor. Hear me out before you decide, okay?"

Curiosity piqued, I nodded. "Sure, go ahead."

"What if there was a way for me to explore this side of myself without breaking up my family? If you were me, would you take it?"

I paused, considering his words. "Yeah... I guess I would."

He seemed relieved and leaned in a bit. "Okay, this is where things get... weird. I’ve never told anyone this, but I have the ability to shapeshift. And I want to switch places with you. Just for a month."

I stared at him, my mind struggling to process what I’d just heard. He wasn’t joking—his expression was dead serious. "Wait, what? How... how do you even do that?"

Marco smiled slightly, held out his hand, and said, "Let me show you."

Hesitant but intrigued, I reached out and shook his hand. Suddenly, a bright light flashed from his palm, scanning my body. He let go, rubbed his hands together, and I watched, dumbfounded, as an exact replica of my body appeared in his hands like a skin suit. 

I was speechless.

Marco chuckled at my reaction. "So... I guess you’ve seen me naked now," I joked, trying to wrap my head around what had just happened.

"Yeah... I guess I have," he laughed.

He led me upstairs and laid out his entire plan. For one month, we’d switch places. I’d live his life—run his business, spend time with his family—while he experienced life as me, exploring his bisexuality in secret. His shapeshifting ability allowed him to perfectly mimic anyone he’d scanned, down to the last detail.

"But there are a few rules," he explained. "First, you cannot sleep with my wife. Second, you have to follow the business plan I leave you—no changes. And third, spend time with my sons when they come home for winter break. I’ll help guide you through it all."

"Marco, this is... this is overwhelming. I’m not sure I can pull it off," I admitted.

"You can. I trust you. And to sweeten the deal, I’ll pay you $10,000 for the month."

Ten grand? My heart raced. With that kind of money, I could get myself out of debt and start saving. After a long pause, I finally agreed. We shook on it.

I spent the next day tying up loose ends in my life, preparing for the swap. When I returned, Marco opened another beer for me. "Okay, Lukas, any rules you want for me?"

"Yeah, a few. First, you need to go to work—don’t slack off on that. Second, check in with my friends so they don’t worry. And third, don’t ruin my reputation, okay? I still want a chance at meeting someone after this is all over."

"Got it," Marco nodded. "I’ll be respectful."

He led me upstairs again, and I watched as he scanned himself. Another skin suit appeared—this time, an exact copy of Marco. He handed it to me, the lifeless face staring back. "Now, here’s the fun part," he said. "You’re going to put it on. I'll be downstairs waiting for you."

The idea of slipping into Marco's life—literally—was still hard to grasp. As Lukas stood there in Marco's bathroom, holding the lifeless suit in his hands, the weight of what he was about to do hit him again. The room felt colder, or maybe it was just the suit, its unsettling coldness radiating through Lukas' fingers. He stared at Marco’s face—blank, eyeless, but unmistakably Marco—like it was staring back at him, waiting to be worn.

He hesitated, then, with a deep breath, he slipped one foot into the opening at the suit’s back. The texture of the suit was strange, like cool, stretched skin. His toes felt icy as they sank into the hollow mold of Marco’s feet. He adjusted his foot until it nestled into the curve of Marco's arch, and the sensation was surreal. He repeated the process with the other foot, each movement deliberate, each step pulling him deeper into the shift.

As he pulled the suit up over his legs, the sensation changed—his thighs merged with Marco’s thicker, more muscular frame. His skin prickled as the cold transformed into a warmth that began to wrap around him, like the suit was responding to him, molding itself to his body. His hands trembled when he reached Marco's waist, hesitating as he pulled it over his own. The suit was snug, unnervingly intimate as it slid over him, conforming to his body like a second skin. Lukas took a sharp breath when his own body began to feel distant, swallowed by the suit.

When it reached his chest, the suit tightened. It compressed his torso, his own wiry frame disappearing as Marco’s broader chest settled into place. He ran his fingers over Marco's pecs, feeling the unfamiliar bulk. It was his touch, but not his body. He twisted slightly, and the suit shifted seamlessly with him, no gap, no seam—only Marco.

His arms came next. Lukas felt the power in Marco’s forearms, thicker than his own, veins more prominent. He flexed his new fingers, watching in awe as they responded just like his own, but the shape was completely different—Marco’s hands, rougher, stronger, experienced.

Finally, there was the face—the final piece. Lukas hesitated for a moment, his reflection staring back at him, half Marco and half Lukas. The difference between the two was stark, like seeing a stranger staring back at him. He lifted the faceless mask of Marco and, with trembling hands, positioned it over his own. 

The sensation was like nothing he had ever felt before. The suit clung to his face, cool and slick, stretching over his features and fusing with his skin. As the mask settled, the fit was eerily perfect. His vision blurred for a moment as the world seemed to shift, and when he blinked, he wasn’t sure who he was anymore. Marco’s face looked back at him from the mirror, alive and breathing. He touched his cheek, feeling the unfamiliar roughness of Marco’s stubble beneath his fingers, and then ran his hand through Marco’s dark hair.

It was more than just a change of skin. He was Marco now—physically, at least. Lukas tilted his head, watching the reflection mimic him, then smiled. It wasn’t his smile. Marco’s grin was wider, more confident, almost cocky. Lukas admired the reflection longer than he expected, tracing the contours of Marco’s jaw, the way his shoulders filled out his new body. It felt powerful—alien and yet exhilarating.

He spoke, "Hello, I'm Marco Gonzales." The voice was deep, gruff—Marco’s voice, not his own. It reverberated in his throat, strange and foreign, yet perfectly natural coming from his lips. The reflection in the mirror and Lukas phone's camera spoke back, reinforcing the illusion.

Lukas could hardly believe it. He stared for a long time, running his hands down the length of his new body, tracing Marco’s muscles and curves like they were his own, yet so foreign. His chest rose and fell with each breath, the weight of Marco's frame making each breath feel heavier, fuller. The bulk, the strength—it was intoxicating.

Once dressed, he headed downstairs, the weight of Marco’s shoes and clothes grounding him further in this new reality. As he descended, he saw himself—his old self—lounging casually on the couch, a sight that made his stomach churn in disbelief. His own face, his voice, speaking back at him.

“Took you long enough,” Marco—his old self—said with a laugh. “What do you think?”

Lukas sat down, still in awe of the situation. “This is... unbelievable. I can’t believe how real it feels.”

Marco—wearing Lukas’ skin—grinned. “Told you it’d be something. Now, for the next month, you’ll be Marco Gonzales.”

They both sat there for a moment, the reality of the swap settling in. It wasn’t just about wearing Marco’s skin. Lukas was about to live his life—take over his work, interact with his wife, his children, and the people Marco had built his life around. And Marco would be living Lukas' life, exploring the side of himself he’d kept hidden for so long.

“Tomorrow, you’ll go to work, meet my clients, handle my business,” Marco explained, leaning forward. “And don’t worry, I’ll be guiding you every step of the way. I’ll be checking in with you, making sure everything goes smoothly.”

Lukas nodded, still feeling the weight of the transformation. “And what about Serena?”

Marco’s face grew serious. “You’ll need to act like me around her, but remember our deal—no crossing that line. You’re in my life, but you’re not me. My family is off-limits.”

Lukas swallowed hard, nodding again. “I understand.”

But as the days passed, things began to get complicated. Wearing Marco’s skin was one thing, but living his life was entirely different. The demands of his business, the constant pressure of pretending to be someone he wasn’t, started to weigh on Lukas. And then there was Serena—sharp, intuitive, and far more aware of the changes in “Marco” than Lukas anticipated. She questioned him constantly, sensing that something wasn’t quite right, and Lukas had to think quickly to keep the charade going.

Meanwhile, Marco was enjoying his time as Lukas—perhaps a little too much. He dove into the freedom of Lukas' life with reckless abandon, hitting bars, meeting men, and living without the weight of his responsibilities. And though he promised not to tarnish Lukas’ reputation, Lukas started to hear whispers, rumors about “himself” that made him question how much control Marco really had.

The month dragged on, and by the time the swap was supposed to end, both men had changed in ways they hadn’t anticipated. For Lukas, living as Marco had awakened something inside him—a sense of confidence and control he’d never felt before. And for Marco, the experience of freedom had reignited a desire for something he couldn’t fully grasp, something that his life couldn’t provide.

But when it came time to switch back, Marco wasn’t ready to let go.

[zorrasucia]

Teach Me Tonight - Part 1

Part 1: [Part 2] [Part 3] [Deleted Scene] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Deleted Scene] [Part 8]

Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Smut, Set sometime after the opening of The Bear, Porn with a little plot, Virgin!Carmy, Masturbation, Mutual masturbation, P in V sex, Both Carmy and Reader have a bit of a praise kink

Summary: He scratched his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut, embarrassment taking over desire. "Would you teach me? How to- I wanna make you feel good."

It had all started five months ago.

You had finally found a good spot for your vintage clothing store. It used to be a bar, right next to a sandwich place called The Beef. Things lined up so that the new restaurant, The Bear, opened a week before your store did. You were thankful - fine dining brought just the kind of business you wanted.

After weeks of eyeing the delicious looking desserts through the window, you decided to close early and get one of each and a coffee.

"You have a sweet tooth, huh?" the server joked amicably. "Have I seen you around?"

"I own the store next door," you replied.

"Of course!" he smiled. Then added: "Do you sell anything denim?"

You eyed his all black suit, guessing his size.

"Yeah, I just got a few pieces you might like."

"Oh, it's not for me," he laughed. "I've been telling my cousin to visit for weeks but he hasn't listened. I'll send him your way tomorrow."

You hadn't thought much of it. But the next day the cousin showed up. He was short, pretty, with blue eyes and built like a brick house.

"Carmen," he offered you his hand to shake; his arms were covered in tattoos.

"Your cousin said you are looking for vintage denim?"

"Yeah."

You showed him the new arrivals and a few of the most popular pieces - everybody wanted Levi's 501s. But he surprised you asking about specific models and the lining on jackets. You didn't know it at the time but Carmy found a way into your heart and mind from the moment you met him.

He was smart without being cocky, with an offbeat sense of humor and the nicest profile you had ever seen. He started bringing you (exquisite) leftovers for your lunch, stopping sometimes for a little talk. You called him to show whatever new pieces arrived to the store. It became a thing.

You were friends until you weren't. Until he got comfortable enough to touch your hand and hug you. Until you got the nerve to ask him out and kiss him.

It had been three months of seeing each other as much as your schedules allowed, kissing at closing time and talking way too much about jeans.

Today was a rare instance of Carmy taking the day off from the restaurant, and even rarer that it had lined up with yours. The afternoon was spent in your living room, eating take out from his favorite place, your legs on his lap, talking about the frantic week he'd had and your plans of going to a estate sale next weekend. You ended up tangled on your bed making out, the song of the city playing outside your window, his tongue eager in your mouth and your hands carding through his hair. You felt electric, like anything Carmy did could light the spark within you. You writhed in his embrace and found that Carmy was hard against your hip, grinding slightly.

"Are we doing this?" you asked against his mouth. You were leaning back and pulling him towards you.

"Now?" he sounded surprised.

"I mean, yeah," you chuckled. It felt right. And you had thought about it for weeks. But he seemed genuinely taken aback so you added: "If you want."

There was a long silence. Was it too soon? You looked away, feeling mortified - this was all a mistake. You tried to disentangle yourself from Carmy's embrace to give him space but he held on tighter.

"No, I do, I want to," he said softly. "It's just-"

His thumb soothed the skin on your cheek and you realized he wasn't surprised, not really. His eyes were half lidded - it was a weird look on him, a combination of embarrassment and desire.

"Do you like kinky stuff? Is that it? Because we can talk about it-" you stopped in your tracks when you saw his face contort into a grimace. "Sorry."

"It's fine," he reassured. "Actually it's the opposite problem," he mumbled. "I'm- I'm new to this. I have done none of it. Ever," he confessed. You caressed the hair on his temples.

"Oh. That's okay," you said and he avoided your gaze. You tilted your head to look him in the eye. "It is. I promise."

"Would you-" he scratched his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut, embarrassment taking over desire. "Would you teach me? How to- I wanna make you feel good."

You smiled. "I mean, sure, but hopefully we'll both feel good."

He laughed, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. You settled on the bed, lying face to face, just kissing, taking your time, warming the space between you once again. Carmy followed the pace you had set, his lips were gentle against yours. There was a nervousness to him though, he was too still. You took one of his hands and placed it on your chest, cupping your breast over your shirt. He gasped into your mouth and paused the kiss.

"Just touch me," you nuzzled your nose against his. "Anywhere you like."

His hands hovered above you, settling on your waist, lifting your shirt a little. His fingers were cold and you shivered.

"Sorry- I-" he stopped.

"Hey, you're just a little cold," you kissed his cheek and ran your hands over his chest and around his shoulders reassuringly. "I'll let you know if anything feels wrong."

"Promise?"

You nodded and placed his hand back on your waist. His fingers tickled up your sides and you hummed contentedly even though your clothes were getting in the way.

"Want to take it off?" you asked.

You lifted your arms so that he could push the blouse off of you. He cleared his throat at the sight of you, his eyes wider than you had ever seen them, and you could feel yourself melting into his beautiful hands as he touched and touched.

"Can I?" you had started tugging at the hem of his pristine, white shirt.

"Yeah," he replied breathlessly. You helped him out of it, and started tracing the lines of muscle on his arms.

"You're so beautiful," you said and he flushed down to his neck, the way he looked after a long day in the kitchen.

"Well, right back at you," he replied earnestly. "Wh- What should I do next?"

"Kiss my neck?" you proposed. He nodded eagerly and buried his face in the crook of your neck. "Keep going," you pleaded.

His hair tickled you as he went down your collarbone and the top of your breasts. You trembled with pleasure. This was new to him but also new to you. You had gotten used to men that never asked what you liked - this was different. Nice.

"I'll show you something," you guided Carmy's hands to your back, over the clasp of your bra. "There's a hook back there, feel it?"

"I think so," he furrowed his brows in concentration.

"You bring the sides together and it opens," it took him a couple of tries but he managed. "Good," you praised and Carmy smiled wide, carefully taking it off.

He continued kissing down, noticing how your breath hitched when he got close to your nipples.

"Feels good?" he asked, his breath on your skin hardened your nipples and made you arch your back.

"Yeah," you carded a hand through his hair, keeping him close and moaning when he kissed each side.

His lips and hands roamed all over your chest, so diligently, so thoroughly, that you thought you might come from that alone. Your thighs kept rubbing close together to find some relief. Carmy saw you and placed a hand on your hip.

"Show me," he said.

You took one of his tattooed hands and placed it between your legs, arching into it. His fingers pressed around aimlessly. It wasn't terrible but it wasn't good either.

"I have an idea," you said after a little while. Carmy looked up at you. "Come, let's sit."

He settled with his back to the headboard while you undressed all the way. Then, you sat between his legs, your back to his chest.

"This is nice," Carmy said softly, one of his strong arms surrounding you. You put his hand back between your open legs, his fingers over yours.

"I'm going to touch myself the way I like it," you explained, your index already tracing the outlines of your folds. "And then you try."

Carmy cleared his throat behind you. "Okay."

You closed your eyes, focused on the feeling of Carmy around you - his sculpted chest to your back, his long fingers echoing every move you made, and his breath caressing the side of your face. Carmy's hands were bigger than yours, more calloused - the feeling of them, almost in unison with yours, was making you dizzy.

"Here," both of your middle fingers touched your clit. You moaned. "Here is good."

"I can hear that," he teased.

When your hand moved around, his stayed there, drawing tiny circles on it.

"Oh," you gasped in surprise and pleasure. Your free hand started squeezing at your breast only to be replaced with his other hand. "Fuck," you cursed under your breath as he kept going. "That's good. That's so good. Don't stop."

"Wouldn't dare," he managed to say.

He sounded just as worked up as you were, his breathing laboured. You could feel his nose buried deep in your hair and his erection poking at your back. He started grinding against you, and you leaned into it a little. He groaned.

"Please," he begged.

You reached behind, palming him over his trousers. It was hard to keep a steady pace from that angle and he was already making you lose control but you tried.

"Shit, shit," he fucked into your hand, messy and desperate, every sound from his mouth pushing you over the edge.

"Carmy," you called his name over and over as your orgasm washed over you. It was hot, blinding, and it made it hard to breathe. You realized Carmy had come too once you regained your bearings and found the bit of his trousers you were holding was damp and warm.

He rested his forehead on the side of your face.

"I could die right now," he mumbled, blissed out.

You hummed in agreement. You stayed in content silence for a while, Carmy's arm keeping you close and his thumb caressing your shoulder.

"We can go over the rest next time," you offered.

"I, uh," he shifted where he sat, "I kinda hoped I'd see you when..."

You twisted a little to look at him. He was back to that embarrassed-horny state, cheeks flushed.

"See me...?" you prompted.

"When you came."

"Oh!" you touched his thighs gently. "I mean, if you can go again-"

"Yeah," he chuckled breathlessly. "Yeah. Just give me a minute."

"Alright."

You got up from the bed to rummage through your bedside table for condoms. You placed them by your pillow. When you turned, you found Carmy with his eyes closed, his brow furrowed, one hand caressing his neck and one on his crotch, moaning softly. It was the hottest thing you had ever seen. You got back on the bed in front of him, and reached for the closure of his trousers. He stopped abruptly.

"Shhh," you soothed. "Keep going. I'm only taking these off."

"Thanks," he replied.

You took his trousers and boxer briefs off, trying your best to not stop his rhythm. He took his cock in his hand and started caressing the head.

"You look so fucking hot, Carmy." He let out a chuckle and picked up a little speed. "Can I help?" you asked after a while.

"You don't have to-"

"I want to," you said. You moved to kneel beside him and started kissing his neck, mirroring his hand on the other side. Then, you pulled on the hair on his nape. You could feel the vibrations on his throat when he moaned.

"So nice," he said softly.

"What else? Tell me what you'd like me to do."

"Just touch me, please," he echoed your reply from before.

You did. Over his chest, flicking at his nipples, down his stomach following the trail of hair and back up, your nails leaving red lines in their wake. Carmy was already hard again but you still wanted to give him pleasure, so you put your hand next to his on his cock and he groaned.

"Slow, please," he begged.

You moved on the bed until you were between his muscular thighs.

"Let me know if you want me to stop," you said right before you kissed the tip of his cock and made him growl.

You left small pecks wherever his hand couldn't reach - the inside of his thighs, the curls under his navel, and his head again. Then, you licked along his shaft.

"Stop," he pleaded, the veins on his throat were bulging, his hand had stilled completely. "I still want to fuck you."

"Okay," you cupped his face tenderly. There was something vulnerable about him that you had only seen a couple of times. "Had you imagined anything?"

"Uh, not really," he hesitated. "Just you. I want to see you."

"We could do it like this," you proposed, nudging his legs close so that you could straddle him. He was still leaning against the headboard. "Either you or I can take over, so-" you let it float, the reassurance that you were there for him but he could do as much as he was comfortable with.

"Yeah. Sounds- sounds great," he ran his hands over your bare back.

You reached out for the condom beside him.

"May I?" you touched his thigh reassuringly. He nodded. "So, opening these with your teeth looks sexy but it's dumb as fuck because you can break it," you explained, maneuvering the wrapper carefully. Then, you rolled it over his length, his head tilting back with a moan. "There's flavored shit, and textured ones. We can try some later, if you want."

"Later," he smiled, the idea of more nights together but also the need he had for you right now - his pupils were blown.

So you got closer, hovering just above his cock.

"You can use lube too," you whispered. "But I'm soaking for you," Carmy groaned, "so we won't need that right now."

You lined him up to your entrance and lowered yourself slowly, your hands holding his shoulders for support. He felt so right inside of you, filling you up, hurting just enough. His jaw went slack as you took him completely.

"Holy fucking shit," he cursed, head tilted back, exposing his neck so you could lick up and kiss his Adam's apple. He tasted like sweat and sex. "You're killing me."

You grinned devilishly. "I'll start slow."

You started riding him, the pace was almost gentle. He buried his face between your breasts and held you close. You felt safe, cared for, adored. Was this what lovemaking felt like?

Carmy started to leave sloppy kisses on your skin, using his teeth in some of them. You started picking up speed, holding tight to the back of his neck.

"You feel perfect," Carmy said against your skin. "Fucking perfect."

You moaned in response, it sounded whiny and desperate. He seemed to love it, trying to make you repeat that sound by kissing your nipples and touching your clit.

"Jesus, Carmy."

You didn't know how long you'd be able to keep the frantic rhythm you had set, your legs were already shaking. Feeling you falter, he started fucking into you, hard thrusts that hit you just right and made you scream. He stopped.

"Are you okay?" he asked, mortified.

"I'm fine, Carmy, I swear. Please, please, keep fucking me," you begged. And he did. And you were becoming more of a mess as he did.

"You're doing so good, Carm. So fucking good. You feel-" you let sweet nothings burst out of your lips. It made him go faster and harder. You wouldn't last long.

"I'm- Carmy, I'm going to come," you mumbled.

"Look at me, please," he ran his hands over your spine, soothing even as he fucked you. His blue eyes searched for yours. "Look at me."

You held his gaze as long as you could, your nails digging into his shoulders and every thrust making it harder to think. All of a sudden, you went slack and fell on him, trembling with pleasure, and seeing stars. A few more thrusts and he came too, biting on your shoulder to drown a scream. You stayed there, breathing hard for a little while.

"Is it always like that?" he asked. His voice was hoarse and his hair was wet with sweat.

"No," you replied. "No, it isn't."

"Good to know," he quipped and you laughed. You untangled yourself from Carmy, leaning back to see him, his droopy eyes and blissful face.

"Fuck," he said. "You are so beautiful."

You traced the curve of his nose with your finger. "Right back at you."

[Part 2]

[onelittlespiral]

Hey hi! I've heard you've got some kind of offer or sale going on, not too sure what its about but I'd like to buy your services. My best friend is a bit of ladiesman jock type and he keeps complaining he can't find a good relationship. So I wanted to know if you could maybe turn him into less ladiesman and more men's man, maybe daddying him up a bit? So i could maybe get a chance with him, and he'd get the relationship he wants.

Subject: Order #100714

Dear Dopple,

Thank you for your recent purchase from The Spiral, home for all your transformation needs! Your order #100714 has been received and is on its way as we speak. Your order includes:

(1) Daddy_From_Friend(Best;Jock)

(1) Mystery(Self)

Expect delivery in 3-5 days. Please note that joint delivery is expected.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

We knew you’d come around and round and round and round…

It was only a few days later when you heard another notification come through from The Spiral. At the same time, you hear a knock at the door. You were glad for the interruption. It was nice to head over to your friends’s apartment and hang out for the weekend. But if you had to listen to him complain again about how tough the dating market was for a white, straight, good looking guy like him you were going to scream. Glancing at the notification for a package delivery to this address, you realize that it is probably about time for the show to begin. No need to interrupt the process. You dart into the restroom as you hear him pick up the package. As you close the door, a rip is heard outside, and as you lock it, a faint poof is heard. A faint fog creeps under the door crack. It smells like fresh grass and sandalwood. Another notification comes through, as The Spiral provides you with product details:

Due to selected target changes, we have elected for our rapid delivery transformation system to best meet your needs. Upon receipt, subject will open box and full product delivery will commence. A dense cloud of product will be released directly onto target and rapidly absorbed. Your friend will age to around 35, with associated physical changes. His previously smooth, young body will change rapidly. Skin is expected to tan, hairline recede, muscles grow, and body and facial hair develop. As the product is breathed in, expect tastes to change. Your new friend will prefer whiskey and beer drinks, along with the occasional cigar. As mental changes set in, they will find themselves drawn to care and maintenance hobbies, like regular workouts, yard work, renovations, cars, and sports. He will be drawn to jeans and beat up tennis shoes or boots, and only prefer to wear a polo when they must go into the office. At the same time, his mind will be filled with images of men. Men staring at him. Men holding onto him. Men worshiping him. This will start the final change, a libido adjustment. He will feel a deep need to fuck, to control his partners, and leave his seed planted deep inside them. The added girth and heavy sack will ensure he never underperforms. As he adjusts and embraces his new personality, he will settle and seek a single partner to fulfill his needs.

Thank you again for choosing The Spiral

You finish reading and unlock the bathroom door, running from the upstairs bedroom through your friend’s spacious house to meet him on the porch.

He is standing on the porch, a box still in hand, just as described. You didn’t know he could be more handsome, but he has aged like a fine wine. He takes one look at you and simply holds out the package in his hand,

“It’s for you.”

For you? You check the label and he is correct. You grab the box and he crosses his arms, waiting. Unsure what is inside, you open the package.

“Ah, good. Been waiting for these,” he snatches it from your hands and inspects the well-worn frames. You try to turn away, but he catches you in his arms,

“This should make you behave.” He takes the sunglasses and sticks them on your face. In an instant, the world is dark. And then a pair of screens flicker to life. As spiral fills your vision, you try to take them off. But your friend is holding you tight. You can’t resist it’s allure for long. It’s right. You do feel so sleepy. As it counts down from ten, your body begins to sway and relax. But you can’t bring yourself to mind. The spiral knows best. You fade away, held in the warm embrace of release and the strong arms of a man…

You come to laying in a bed that feels familiar and foreign all at once. You scratch at your beard and inspect the scene. Lube is left open on the bedside table. Tank tops, jeans, and boxers are strewn over the floor. A pillow is still wedged under you. Heh, still got it. You wander downstairs as you stretch your muscles and rub some sore muscles from the night before. You find him in the kitchen preparing some eggs. Your love. Your master. Your beast in the sheets. You sneak up behind and wrap your arms around his waist.

“Stop, you’ll make me burn them.”

You don’t listen. You plant a kiss on his cheek. He turns around, spatula in hand, and smacks your ass.

“Act your age, boy.”

Something in that statement hits a trigger. You remember something. A younger body. Slender, taut, pale. A firmer mind. Less corruptible, less controlled. Then, you feel an arm around you.

“You okay, cuz you look faint. Don’t break a hip old man.”

You stare at your husband and the world comes into focus. He smirks and gives you a little growl, and you swoon a little in his arms,

“Give daddy a kiss,” he commands.

You lean forward, pressing your hairy chest against his, and love on your husbear.

“I’m going to finish these eggs. Go set the table and look cute,” he says with a wink. You walk off, dizzy for a new reason. You ignore the buzz in your pocket as you get ready for breakfast.

Subject: Order #100714 Fulfilled

Dear Dopple,

Your order has been fulfilled. We know you have many options, but thank you for supporting The Spiral.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

[thecapricunt1616]

Pink Pony Club (Richie Jerimovich one-shot)

♡ One-Shot Inspo: Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan "I'm up, and jaws are on the floor. Lovers in the bathroom and a line outside the door. Blacklights, and a mirrored disco ball Every night's another reason why I left it all" ♡ Summary: You're an Exotic Dancer / part time house mom at The Pink Pony, and end up falling for a man that is probably old enough to be your father. ♡ W/C: 2.9k ♡ Poste Date: 06/10/2024 ♡ A/N: Hello all! again, for the asks that are atp starting to mold in my inbox - imma get to you. This specific dirty old man in a suit has been making me feel things lately, so naturally I had to write some porn about it. Asks are still open even though I cant promise it'll be done snappy. Hope everyones week is off to a great start so far!! Tagged those who commented on the post saying this would be a good idea just so you could see how it came out, hope you like :) ♡ Warnings for BTC: Age gap relationships (R is in her mid-to-late 20's, mentions of sex work, Club environments, swearing, smut, rough sex (Richie likes to be slapped around sometimes, kay?) lowkey simp!Richie, no use of Y/N - pet names only, readers stage name is Pixie Polestar , unprotected sex, not edited, we die like men!

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You had met Richie just about 2 months ago. It was safe to say, life had chewed him up and spit him out lately. 

If he was being honest with himself, the dating pool wasn’t exactly rich at 46 years old. He could count on almost two hands how long it had been since he got his dick up for more than just the binightly pornhub browser. 

That led him into the Pink Pony Club one fateful August night. You were working your usual shift, Pixie Polestar. You - unlike some of the other girls - really enjoyed your job. At least, the aspect of having fun on stage, doing cute, sexy little acrobat-like tricks on the pole while horny men paid you to take more of your clothes off?

Yes please. 

You weren’t a back room kind of girl, usually. That was because the amount of money you made from tricks on the pole was more than a lot of the girls you worked with made in a whole shift while you just worked the 45 minute trick-filled stage set then would give a few $400 lap dances depending on your mood, before skipping on home, taking a hot shower, and slipping in your silk sheets with your air conditioner turning your bedroom something akin to an ice box. 

That was how that night was supposed to go. 

How the night really went, was some loud borderline obnoxious man at least 15 years your senior, had found his way into the Pink Pony. He was wearing a pressed navy blue suit, that complimented his pretty blue eyes. That was the second thing you noticed about him while he loudly whistled for Krystal who was currently doing her set. 

You weren’t really supposed to be here anymore - well- you didn’t have to be here. You had found yourself a solution, a real career path if you will. But you enjoyed your time on the pole because it was art, and dancing was a confidence booster for you. In any regard, you were going to get older, you were going to pass your prime as the house mom was always telling you girls, so you needed another stream of income. 

Of course, being a … *eh-hem* - exotic dancer was the word you preferred, stripper just sounded trashy to you, did come with its negative stereotypes, one of which being no where will rent to you - because you had terrible credit. So, naturally, being the resourceful woman you are - you walked your happy ass to the open house of a for sale by owner showing, and told the nice realtor you’d take it. 

Boom. Done, you had a place to live in 3 weeks, when you closed on it. Then, it dawned on you. The other girls you worked with had the same issue you did. So, you found another house, saved another 25k for the amount to put down, and rented it to your coworkers. 

It was the perfect system, because you knew you’d get your rent. You knew exactly how much money each girl made because you watched them make it, you knew where they lived, and they had to look you in the eye every night. So it’s easy to say no one ever tried you. The only real reason you hung around The Pink Pony anymore was because you wanted to keep an eye on your girls and dancing was fun too. 

When he first laid eyes on you, it was something akin to a cartoon character when their pupils turn into hearts. It wasn’t too abnormal, you were one of the more bombshell-esc dancers at the club, and that isn’t to say that you outdid anyone it was all based on preference. Some men loved plain Jane’s, and the plain Jane’s were just as beautiful as any of the other girls, but the reaction of men basically tripping over their feet to try and come talk to you was more likely going to happen to you then anyone else.  

But he…didn’t come over, that was interesting to you. So, you being the master of customer service you were, took your drink and kept your eyes locked on his as you made your way across the room, and plopped right in his lap. “Never seen you here before sweetheart” your manicured hand found the back of his neck, gently caressing over his skin. 

He tried to play it cool, but your tits we’re basically in his face, he could smell your perfume perfectly, fuck he genuinely can’t believe that a girl so beautiful just sauntered over and sat in his fucking lap. Was he dreaming? He found his mind racing, and for once in his 46 years he was dumbfounded and couldn’t find anything to say. 

“Cat got your tongue honey?” You smirked a bit, gently cupping his stubbly cheek and rubbing your thumb over his bottom lip, pulling it gently before letting it snap back into place. He swallowed thickly, his hand resting on your bare thigh, just below the white glittery mesh coverup you were wearing. 

“I’m Richie.” He blurted out, his cheeks felt like they were on fucking fire, any blood that wasn’t rushing there was rushing to his cock and he found himself wondering when the last time he’d gotten hard so easy was. 

“Well hello Richie. I’m Pixie, what brings a handsome man like you in on a Friday night mm, no big plans?” You absentmindedly played with his chain, pretending to pay no mind to the long length that was hardening in the curve of your ass. All you would have to do is shuffle just a tiny bit and his cock would be nestled between your cheeks and the itty bitty powder pink g string that you wore beneath the tiny mesh piece of fabric that was basically for show and no use to cover anything. 

“I guess I was lookin’ f’some entertainment. Think I found it” he spread his legs more, causing you to sink further into his lap and his hand found the curve of your waist, his thumb rubbing little up and down strokes over the smooth skin. He never believed that the sheer triple x rated porn movie he was creating in his mind would become a reality that night but man did it. 

It was also his first night taking the dreaded viagra prescription his doctor had given him when he got real about his … shortcomings as of late. The man isn’t what he used to be stamina wise, okay? Nonetheless - he still rocked your shit - well, more like you rocked his. 

Who knew this foul mouthed, old school, borderline toxic masculinity-entrenched motherfucker would get so much pleasure from your palm coming across his cheek just hard enough it left a yummy sting and telling him “My eyes are up here you old pervert” as you bounced on his cock with a rhythm he couldn’t bring to the table himself anymore, and that in turn causing your tits to bounce like a fucking hentai film less then a foot from his face. 

Something about a younger girl calling him old and smacking him around all while using his cock to get herself off, babbling about how good he makes her feel made him more confident then he had been in years.

He often would find himself feeling a little pang of sadness after you started seeing eachother, in moments where you two were laughing a way he only ever did with Mikey before you came around, and making him feel like he was in fuckin’ High school again with how giddy he was to see you after every shift. All of it would just remind him how bad he wishes you could have met Mikey, and how bad he wishes he could tell Mikey. 

Richie knows, he would be so jealous, but in a brotherly way - that such a young hot piece of ass, a young smart, hot, funny, piece of ass was calling him daddy, told him he was ‘her mans’ whatever the fuck that meant. He assumed girls today call their boyfriends that, there were a lot of little phrases and lingo you had to explain to him and would always make fun of him for being old after doing so. 

He would tease you too, having some late 80s early 90’s radio station on (because the old head didn’t understand what streaming was) while he drove you around of course since he had learned from you that you were his ‘passenger princess’ and saying something like ‘oh babygirl this is before your time, this is from my day” before cranking up the radio and serenading you with Bad Girl by Madonna, belting it in such a silly, dramatic way between drags of his cigarette you couldn’t help but burst into giggles and kiss him at the next red. 

You had told him that when you used to do private dances that Like a Virgin was one of your favorite to dance to for the ‘older’ gentleman, he spanked you playfully when you said his crowd was older as he usually did, and of course later that night he had you perform for him and you ended up getting your back blown out to material girl since you had been streaming the song from your phone and didn’t care to find it and turn it off. 

When Tina had played it jokingly at family dinner one night, he couldn’t help the smirk that came to his lips at the memory. Funnily enough, she was the first person to find out about you. Of course, he didn’t divulge anything other than he was finally seeing someone consistently, nothing about your age or profession. Based on the way Tina had reacted with clapping and kissing his cheeks, gushing “I’m so proud of you papa! That’s so good, this is so good for you! You need to get out there more” he was reevaluating his social life or lack there of and telling himself he needed to get out more, which lucky for him you were young and bubbly so you could get him out of the house. 

The next person he told, he really told, was Carmy. Well- technically Syd too, but she just happened to overhear. 

“W-wait wait” Carmy pinched the bridge of his nose how he did when he was baffled and confused, brows knitting together as he shook his head. “Lemme- lemme just get this straight - y’datin a…..” 

“Ex-o-tic dancer, cousin. It’s 2024, fuckin hell. Women dance and get paid for it - no big deal.” He repeated, emphasizing each sound as if what he was explaining was the most casual thing in the world, which - you had explained to him it should be so he took that and ran with it. 

“You’re fucking…a stripper- a stripper that’s what they’re called when they dance naked -  and how old did you say she was?” Syd questions. 

“Hey- she leaves her panties on she’s only naked top up, and plus she doesn’t even have to anymore she does it for the art.” He points the spoon he was wiping down at Carmy “this new NOMA bullshit we’re doin’ here isn’t the only art, Cousin. Shes an artist” he dropped the spoon in the bucket with the rest of the pristine ones he’d worked on. 

“Sure- and she’s fuckin younger then me” Carmy replied. “She could be y’fuckin-“

“Yeah, yeah - whatever she could be my fuckin daughter where’s your girlfriend huh? I don’t see anyone linin’ up to fuck you. She’s nice, and into me - and - and she’s funny and smart. So see already 2 qualities named that I don’t see much of around here so excuse fuckin me f’wantin to be happy when I’m not in this shithole” he teased 

“So- this not even 30 year old, she is gonna be y’date to the thanksgiving friends and family night - the one your daughter and ex wife are attending - and you think that will be a good idea considering tiff’s track record with girls you bring around” Syd questioned. 

“Yup” was all he said before taking the now finished bin of spoons to be put away, glad for the conversation to have finally been over. 

He rehashed the whole conversation with you later that night as you slowly rolled your hips into his, your skin sticking to his, both of you covered with a thin layer of sweat. You had his hands pinned next to his head, fingers interlaced with yours, practically speaking into your mouth as you kissed him sloppy and open mouthed, obsessed with eachothers taste. You always tasted of bubblegum, a habit you’d carried with you since childhood, he always tasted of cigarettes, a habit he had carried since high school. 

“Baby with my job I’m used to people not understanding me - I didn’t expect your friends to like me. My job - it can make people uncomfortable. But fuck them. You know how we feel huh?” You picked up the speed of your hips, using the curly deep brown patch of hair at the base of his cock to cause the most delicious friction with each thrust on his cock as you chased your orgasm. 

“Ye’ fuck em baby- shit- so fuckin tight- all mine right?” He breathed, mouthing over the bruises he’d left on your breasts a few nights ago. That was one thing about your job he had a bit of difficulty getting past, but you assured him you had no feelings for any clients and that you weren’t doing lap dances anymore only your stage set and otherwise you were just there to be more of a second house mom. But still, he was a man after all. He was possessive, a little jealous sometimes. So he loved to hear that you were only his during moments like this. 

“Yes daddy- all yours. You own this- you own me” you kissed his hand before bringing it to your breast and then using his shoulders as leverage to bounce further up and down, the action causing his head to fall back and jaw to fall slack. 

“Just like that - god- fuck - holy shit baby- shit-shit- y’fuckin close? How fuckin long has it been?” He pinched your nipple lightly, causing your pussy to clench around him and a pornstar like whine to leave your lips 

“It’s been 15 minutes- Christ you’re like a teenager. Can’t even last 30 minutes?” You teased, leaning in and kissing his neck, biting and nibbling the skin as you circle your hips, essentially jutting the tip of his cock into your g spot and that floaty feeling sneaking up on you as you feel him shoot rope after rope of arousal, painting your pretty, gummy walls a milky white and his stomach muscles clenching at the overstimulation. 

The grunts and moans that left his lips when you got him here were some of the hottest noises you’d ever heard a man make before, you were always sure to file them away in a special little folder in your brain for a rainy day he wasn’t able to get you off himself. “Feel good daddy?” You asked sweetly, sitting up and resting your hands on his hips so you could look down and watch as your mixed arousals gush out of you and around him, thick strings breaking with each slow, purposeful roll of your hips 

“So fuckin good baby- Jesus gonna finish soon? Dunno how much more I can do” he said, voice breathy, blissed out, nearly whiny. 

“Mmhmm few more minutes daddy- god we’re so pretty, I bet we taste so good mm?” You swipe the pad your forefinger over your clit, gathering the sweet and bitter white, making a show of rubbing it over the hardened bud of your nipple “feels good, too, wanna tell me how it tastes?” You leaned in and he nearly groaned as he took your breast in his mouth, crystal like eyes seeding into your own gaze as he flicked his tongue gratefully around the sensitive nub. 

You whined hotly, the sight of your tit in his mouth mixed with the feeling of his pants huffing through his nose and fanning over the swollen flesh as his tongue swirled and licked and flicked and drove you over the edge. You cried out, hips stuttering as you rode out your orgasm. His hand found your heat, rubbing with scissored fingers over your clit and meeting around his cock before dragging his fingers back up to repeat the assault. 

The action had you gushing around him, the contractions of your heat getting stronger causing him to groan into your skin and that vibration just added more stimulation. “Fuck yes- god daddy- always make me feel so good, no one understands how good we make eachother feel hm? Nothing else matters, baby, as long as you feel good, right?” 

You pulled him in for a sloppy, hot, passionate kiss. A kiss that made his heart do flips, and his stomach flutter, and made him feel way lighter.

Richie thought to himself in that moment he may be falling in love again, and he was equal parts fucking terrified, and excited to see where things with you went. 

He just had to get over ripping off the very last bandaid, and then you could really be together -

And that bandaid was Tiff.

@aestheticaltcow - @myszie - @wtfsteveharrington

[milky-fixx]

toshiro hitsugaya + "beach"

900 words. fluff. adult!toshiro just being a Mom at the beach, but also a simp. idk he’s just sassy.

Toshiro hates the heat, but he likes you. That's how the two of you end up at a beach getaway in the World of the Living. While he had his protests—

(“I have paperwork to catch up on.”

“Let your Lieutenant do it for you!”

“Rangiku? Actually doing her work? Hilarious.”

“You need a break!”)

—you were dead-set on your vacation and had your sales pitch ready.

(“We can eat watermelon shaved ice and build sandcastles, or use your zanpakto to make ice sculptures, or whatever you want! We can walk along the beach when it’s cooler in the evenings."

Not entirely convinced, he opened his mouth to retort when you pulled out your ace card. Your last resort.

“Plus… I may know a way to get Matsumoto to finish her tasks for a few days.”

“…Fine.”)

He was sold.

Truthfully, he did need a vacation. His sense of duty just made him a hardass about accepting one.

Plus... it meant he got to spend more time with you.

Pressing the back of his hand to his brow—it's sticky, with sweat, he notices sourly—he follows just a few paces behind you as you flit about the beach. Despite himself, he feels a smile tug at the corner of his lips at your childlike wonder.

"Look, 'Shiro! It's a crab."

"We should catch one and cook it for dinner."

“Ahh, look how many pretty shells washed ashore.”

They were pretty, but he could think of someone with more beauty.

"Hm. They're nice."

"Do you want to build a sandcastle?”

"You'll get burnt," he says as he eyes your exposed skin.

Of course he slathered on as much sunscreen as he could before stepping onto the beach. Yet you denied his offer to rub some onto you with a wave of your palm, a simple boast of how you simply tan in the sun.

How opposite the two of you are, yet how well you mesh together.

He's been told he’s cold, like the winter personified, like the reiatsu that constantly shrouds him. You're warm, almost burning in intensity, like the summer heat that threatens to melt through him. You're in your element here.

Nonetheless he’s watching you intently to make sure your skin doesn't burn.

Maybe he also just likes looking at you, so carefree. He could just reach out and press his lips against your sun-kissed complexion—

He shakes his head to rid himself of the urge. The heat seems to be seeping into his thoughts. He crouches down, picking up the bucket that you discarded. He takes a moment to note your height difference. Gone are the days when he was considered too young, where you towered over him. Now he can revel in the fact that you have to tip toe just to reach his chin.

"You're doing it wrong," he says as he observes your sand creation. “That kind of castle would never survive the tide."

He helps you, rolling his eyes good-naturedly as you fleck some sand at him in response to his critique. When you look away, he does the same, a sludge of sand slapping your knee. You gasp and he raises a brow.

He used to hate doing things that made him seem too childish, all too aware of how people saw him—as the young, inexperienced prodigy.

Yet with you... he finds your laughter infectious. Whether it's you giggling at the way a crab burrows its way into your castle, or even at how he gripes about the heat.

He finds he doesn’t mind indulging in these juvenile activities. When it’s with you.

You venture towards the shore in search of seashells as Toshiro pats more wet sand onto the base of your castle. It's only when you call his name triumphantly that he looks up.

His eyes widen.

Not because you're proudly holding up a conch, but because the tide is hurtling towards the shore behind you, threatening to engulf you.

You don't seem to notice.

"Watch out!” He’s moving before he can even speak, managing to grab you before water crashes onto the shore.

In a flurry of waves and movement, the both of you fall onto the sand, his arms cradling you to him. Water threatens to invade his nostrils but he exhales roughly. He nearly swallows a mouthful of it before the tide recedes.

And then he’s propped over you, on his hands and knees, water dripping from his hair onto you, the both of you sopping wet. You cough up some seawater, but you're fine. Toshiro's brows furrow.

"What were you thinking?" he says tersely.

You could've died. You worry him sick. He takes his eyes off of you for a few seconds and you nearly die.

"Were you even looking? You could've drowned—”

He's not sure who leaned in first, but the kiss interrupts him. Despite himself, he can't refuse, clutching you closer to him, pressing his lips against yours insistently.

You taste like salt and the sun and he wants you so badly.

But he also wants to keep you safe.

The two of you break apart with flushed cheeks and short breaths, and Toshiro huffs, pressing his forehead against yours.

"You're ridiculous, you know that."

"Yeah, but I'm your type of ridiculous."

Your giggle breaks off into a gasp as another tide washes over your bodies, this time gentler.

"That's it." He grumbles, jerking back his slicked hair as you cough up more water. He gets to his feet, reaching out a hand for you. "We're drying off."

[ellaa-writes]

The Bëast Within

author note: Part 5! Ok this is the last part till I'm back in November. Will be gone from October 21st till November 18th. I'm getting married and then going on my honeymoon. So enjoy! I'll be working on other parts while I'm away. :) you can find the rest of the series here.

summary: Omegas are rare, in a world full of Alphas and Betas. Being a Omega was not only dangerous but they were highly sought after. After living your life has a Beta in disguise, you meet a scary Alpha, but not any normal alpha. But a gaint Apex Alpha who won't stop at anything to make you his.

tags: Alternative Universe, female reader. Slight smut. Reader edges König into an apology. Slightly submissive König (but don't tell him that.) A/b/o dynamics. Alpha König is big and scary but not to reader. not proof read

König showed his love through acts of kindness and gifts. He felt bad for smashing your phone, and also as you put it "ruined your life". But he knows your just being dramatic, he spent two full days sleeping in one of the spare bedrooms. You didn't leave the master bedroom, only opening the door after König pleaded with you to eat something.

That's why he's currently inside a jewelry store, trying to pick out a gift that says I'm very sorry but I also don't regret doing what I did. The sales person becoming annoyed cause he can not make up his mind so decided to buy all 3, a matching set.

The second day barricaded in the room, you spent most of the time crying in your nest and enjoying the deep soaker tub. König brought you lunch, and also your new phone.

Discarding the food on the dresser you laid in the nest, setting up your phone. Waiting for the thousands of notifications to pop up.

You immediately called Kalina, you missed her voice and knew she's probably in a panic. The phone only rang once before it was picked up. "Please tell me you're alive." you heard her panicked voice on the other line.

"I'm alive." you replied back. "What the fuck is going on?" she all but screamed your name. "It's a complicated story." you tried to explain but she cut you off. "Are you safe, do you need me to call the police? Maybe the military? Who do I need to kill." she was rambling so fast you could barely make out what she was saying.

"Kalina! Hey Kalina! Calm down will you. I'm fine. I'm alright. I don't need any of that." you were finally able to but in. "I went to your apartment and you were gone, like all of it." she explained. Remembering König's actions, rubbing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose. "Ugh I know." you didn't know where to start. "It's been a week! A week of no call, no show, no nothing. And Mr. Wojack said you quit? What the hell is going on?" her voice getting higher and higher with each word.

"If you'd shut up I'll explain. It started that night at the club." you started. "We should have never gone." Kalina but in. "Kalina! Please!" you pleaded with her to shut up. "Sorry, sorry!" shaking your head. "Their was a guy there, an Alpha. I guess he sniffed me out, idk how the hell he knew but he followed me home. I woke up to him in my room, and..... and he marked me. That night, and I've been at his place ever since. He helped me through my heat....I think we are mated now." you explained.

The other end was finally quiet, thinking the call dropped until you heard Kalina'a deep sigh." I knew, I knew he would try. I just hoped I got you out of there fast enough." she said, you were confused? She knew? "What do you mean you knew?" you asked. "Don't you remember me pulling you out of the club? Throwing you in that cab?" she asked. It took you a while to thinking back in it, and then I made sense.

She saw him too, just like you did. "You saw him?" you whispered. "It was hard not to." her voice trailing off. You heard a knock on the door, probably König again. "Kalina I gotta go. I call you back later." you told her. Hanging up before she could protest. Leaving your phone on the charger near the bed.

Walking to the door you could see König's shadow underneath. Another knock came "Omega, please let me see you." he pleaded through the wood. If he really wanted to he could break it down, and he was tempted. Since getting a taste of your omega pussy it's all his dick and brain could think about.

"Why should I? So you can lie to me again." you were being a brat but you deserved it. In less than a week you had your home, job and life taken from you. But you also knew your situation could be much worse.

König sighed, he was going to lose his mind if you kept up this act. He had every right mind to knock this door down and make you forgive him. Even when he didn't believe he needed to be forgiven. In the law he had every right to do what he did. Once an omega is claimed she loses all her freedoms and rights. As she now belongs to her Alpha who is responsible in taking care of her. And if he's unfit of that, then the courts step in and interviene. But you were an undocumented Omega and he was a dead excommunicated Alpha.

Slamming his fist against the thick wood, he rolled his neck to try and relieve the tension that's been bothering him. "Please my love, I got you something." in König's other hand held the name brand bag of the jeweler he visited.

Unbeknownst to him, you had been scheming. Spending your time locked in this room, snooping around. Taking out his military uniform and laying it out on the bed. Also finding a few medals that where also stashed away in the closet.

"I'll let you in if you answer some of my questions." Königs ears perked up, what was this? A terrorist negotiation? But the thought of being in your presence, he didn't care. "Whatever you want Omega." his words making you laugh, of course you'll give me what I want, you thought.

König heard the door click, you unlocking the bolt that secured it close. Opening it a bit before stepping away to sit on the bed next to your findings.

König wasted no time in barging right in, about to open his mouth but closing it immediately when he saw his uniform next to you. "What is this?"he asked. His voice getting deep and low, his instincts heightening. He wasn't an animal you wanted to corner and confront but that's exactly what you did.

"That's my question. And I don't want to hear anything from you that isn't a one word answer or anything that's not the truth. You understand?" you fingers ran along the delicate stitching, tracing it slowly. König didn't like any of this.

"If you aren't going to answer me, you can just leave. And take that with you." you pointed to the bag he was holding. He sighed, setting the bag down on the dresser. Leaning against it, he was feared far and wide. The stories men told about him, yet here you are. Standing up to him, and not backing down. The Beast was proud, laughing loudly in König's head. Mocking him for not being able to control you. But that's not what he wanted, he didn't want to control you he just wanted to make you happy. And right now you were not and it was his fault.

Slowly you were wearing him down, his dick hard and throbbing in his pants. Begging and pleading with him to do whatever you wanted just so it can feel you wrapped around it again.

"I served in the Austrian Special Forces, but things came up and now I'm here." hoping his answer sated you. He crossed his arms staring at you, dragging his eyes up and down your body. "Why did you leave?" you asked. Curious about the Alpha in front of you, his aura was dark and mysterious. "It no longer served a purpose in my life. I... uh I do different work now. Similar but different. That's all you need to know." König was trying his best to answer you but to also keep you safe from his world.

You sighed "König you said you'd tell me anything I wanted." you eyed the giant Alpha in front of you. The sight of him alone making you want to heel over and crawl to him. But it was just your horny omega brain. "I am Omega, there's things you wouldn't understand. I'll do anything to keep you safe." König was growing more frustrated. Pushing himself off of the dresser and making his way to you. Getting down on his knees and placing his head in your lap.

"I'm trying to keep you safe and protected. Don't you understand." he looked up into your eyes. His eyes pleading with you, his bottom lip sticking out. "Than say your sorry." you told him. Lightly brushing your hand through his hair. You slightly started to part you thighs, revealing a silky pair of panties under the dress you were wearing.

Königs ears began to ring, his mouth becoming wet with anticipation. If he was a youngling he'd might even start foaming. The smell of your wet Omega pussy hit his nose, a low growl starting deep in his belly. He tried to push your dress up more but was received with a smack. Knocking his prying hands away, he hated when you did that.

Nobody he knew would dare raise a finger at him and since knowing you, that seemed like your favourite thing to do.

"No." you scolded him like a juvenile pup. "Not until you say you are sorry." he heard your words but his mind and eyes couldn't leave the sight of your pussy. The fabric of the silky panties hugged you lips, a small wet spot slowly forming. König knew from that moment on you were going to be the death of him.

Only if one of his men could see him, if one of the many people he's snuffed out could look upon him from hell. To see this feared Alpha on his knees, drooling at the sight of sweet omega pussy. They would laugh, they would mock him. Just like The Beast was doing now, his laughter louder than anything.

König licked his lips and closed his eyes. Taking a moment to clear his mind, too shut up The Beast and to try and not cum in his pants.

"Omega, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I'll never do anything and I mean anything without your approval." he was a starved man, if you told him to walk into fire he would. "Omega I promise to serve and worship you till the end of mine time." he didn't know what else he could say.

You smiled, your eyes turning bright at the words your Alpha was saying. Your heart skipped a beat and your pussy gushed with more fluid. Pushing up your dress a little and tilting your pelvis till it was in König's face.

"I forgive you." you said. You hands tangling themselves in his hair once again. König mouth attached its self to your clothed pussy. Sucking on the wet spot, trying to ripping through the material with his teeth.

Trying once again to touch you with his hands but only stopped when you smacked them again. He really hated that. "No, just your mouth. And be a good boy and I'll let you fuck me." you told him. Spreading you legs open even more, resting you left leg over his shoulder.

Yes, you were going to kill him. But he didn't care, as long as he died by your pussy he didn't care at all.

Tag list: @plumdreadful @traumaramacenter @kaylp-godly @napalmfairy7 @hisa-plush @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @winters-doll @joyfulfxckery @purebeskar @collete25 @fandomsinthegalaxies @xo-konigs-little-princess-xo @jamieelol @luc1ddreamersatnight @cringeycookies (Tumblr won't let me tag some of you.)

[cranberrymoons]

sugar cookie daydream

prompt: enemies to lovers (@steddieholidaydrabbles) word count: 997 rated: t tags: baker steve, shop owner eddie, rivalry, flirting

welcome to Day 19 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

Okay, so Steve doesn’t like to say that he hates anyone. 

And he doesn’t! Hate anyone. Just–

The guy who owns the shop across the street. Steve doesn’t hate him, because he doesn’t hate people as a general rule, but he maybe sort of… strongly dislikes him.

It’s just the fact that he’s been trying to move in on Steve’s territory by offering free Christmas cookies with any purchase when Steve literally runs the bakery right across the street, and that feels like it’s maybe a personal attack, or– okay, Dustin thinks he’s reading way too much into it or overreacting or something, but honestly? Steve thinks it’s perfectly reasonable to hate the guy who–

Not hate. He doesn’t hate him. He just– resents him. That’s a better word for it.

He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders as he arranges a fresh round of pastries in their glass case, smiling at the woman who’s eyeing the cream puffs at the other end of the counter. It’s not like he’s exactly hurting for customers, it’s just… the big Free Cookies! sign directly across the street feels a little pointed.

“What can I get you?” he asks the woman, who’s now moved on to examine a rainbow array of macarons. “Those also make great holiday gifts.”

The woman glances up and gives him a big smile, toothy and sweet. She’s pretty in a disarming sort of way, big eyes and long blonde hair pulled back from her face. She’s carrying a heavy-looking bag over her shoulder, loaded down with books that peek out the top. 

“Just picking up a few things to take across the street,” she says, heaving the bag higher on her shoulder. “Game night.”

She motions with her head in the direction of The Shop, and Steve resists the urge to make a face. Well, at least he’s getting one paying customer out of the place. Two, if you count Dustin, but he doesn’t ever actually pay.

After a few minutes of selection, he sends her on her way with a little box of macarons, plus a few other things, including an assortment of cookies to show off to his mortal enemy the guy across the street who’s innocently drumming up business for himself by undercutting Steve’s sales.

It doesn’t even matter. 

Whatever.

---

And then the shop bell chimes next morning, and he looks up from piping cupcakes to find the man himself standing there in front of the counter, as if he’s allowed to. As if he was invited in. As if Steve isn’t going to give him a piece of his mind and tell him what he really thinks of– 

Fuck. 

Of course he had to be hot up close.

“Hi,” Evil Shop Owner Guy says, giving him an awkward little wave and a smile. After a beat, his hand moves to rub over the back of his neck. “Thought I’d come say hi.”

Steve blinks. “Well,” he says. “You said it. Hi.”

The guy laughs, and he takes a step closer, which is decidedly not what Steve was going for. He sets down his pastry bag. 

“I meant– hi, like–” He lets out a breath. “I’m Eddie. I own the game store that just opened across the street?”

Steve gives him a tight smile. “Yeah, my cashier goes to your games on Thursdays,” he says. “Dustin? Curly-headed kid?”

“Oh yeah, he’s–” Eddie lets out a laugh that makes Steve soften slightly against his will. “He’s a good kid.” He squints. “Kind of an oddball, though.”

Steve laughs too, and his smile loosens. “Yeah, he is,” he says. “Kind of thought all you were until I met the rest of his friends, and– nope, mostly just him.”

Eddie’s shoulders have come down from his ears a little, and he rocks up on his toes as he laughs. 

“Listen, um.” He clears his throat. “I think we maybe got off on the wrong foot?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “We did?”

“The cookie thing,” he says. “Dustin said you’re not exactly a fan.”

And that’s… not untrue, but still. Steve feels his face heat. 

“He shouldn’t have said anything,” he says. “I’m– sorry, it’s not like I’ve been– whatever. It just felt a little–”

“No, no, I totally get it,” Eddie says. “I guess I didn’t really think. And then my friend Chrissy brought over some of your stuff last night, and it was way better than the shit we’ve been giving out, and –” He takes a breath. “Anyway. I just wanted to say sorry, and – if you want, I mean – I kind of have an idea of how to make it better?”

---

Steve is a little unsure at first, but after a few days of Eddie’s plan to give half off dice to anyone who comes in with a receipt from the bakery, his sales have definitely started to inch back up toward where they were before someone started undercutting him. Steve even begrudgingly admits the dice are cool when Dustin shows off his new set after paying for his breakfast for the first time ever.

“I don’t really get what they do, though,” Steve says, turning them over in his hand to watch the way the light catches on the glitter trapped inside. 

“They don’t do anything,” Dustin says. “They’re dice. You use them to play.”

Steve makes a face. “Okay, I’m not that stupid, thanks.” He drops them back into Dustin’s waiting hand. “I just meant like – the game doesn’t make sense to me. But I’m glad you like them.”

“You could come over net Thursday,” Dustin says, raising his eyebrows. “I bet Eddie wouldn’t mind teaching you.”

“I’m good, thanks,” Steve says. “No nerd games for me. I’ll stick with my cookies.”

---

But that doesn’t stop him from asking Eddie out for a celebratory drink the next day, and if one thing leads to another, well – he never said he hated him.

[also on ao3]

[thoughtsforsoob]

txt - how they propose

a/n: I got inspo to write this when dates dropped for the tour! i am not officialy in posession of a pre-sale code and im hoping to get some good tickets!! i will come back with an update (LA moa's lets talk :) anyways, please enjoy! this piece was meant to be really sweet and even silly at times so please let me know what you think of it! as always, inbox is open.

yeonjun

at a fancy dinner

yeonjun is really excited when it comes to fancy, romantic outings but this one was going to be the best one of all. Of course, that’s because of his proposal plans. He is definitely the kind of guy that sort of spoils it or gives hints because he tells you to go out and get your nails, hair, etc… done. especially emphasizes getting your nails done. He covers it up by saying he loves seeing you all pretty and pampered but deep down, you sort of know what he’s hinting at. Anyways, moving on to dinner. He takes you to a fancy new restaurant that just opened in the city. It was on the top floor of some fancy building. There was a view of the city from where you both were seated at a small booth. He was sitting right next to you and talking your ear off about the day he’d had at work. He didn;t even drink, opting to let you order a drink so he can drive home. He buys you whatever you want to eat and watches you enjoy your food with those adorable, lovesick eyes. You whine at him to stop watching you but he says he can’t help but watch the love of his life. Eventually, he takes you out onto the patio of this restaurant and it was pretty empty since there were only a few more couples around. He takes in the view with you and asks you to take a cute video with him. He sets up his phone at a good angle and presses the record. He goes back to you and kisses your cheek. He takes your distraction as an opportunity to pull the ring out of his pants pocket and when he pulls away, he gets down on one knee and proposes. “Will you do me the biggest favor ever and be my Mrs. Choi?” 

soobin 

at home

Soobin was never one for big romantic gestures and he was happy that you were okay with it. His ideal date was at home, snuggled up on the couch or in a pillow fort, watching movies or playing video games together. sure, he did take you on little outings once in a while but he preferred staying home. When it came to his proposal plans, his logic was to stay home, plan and cook a little dinner and use all the extra money to buy you the prettiest ring he could find. He loved the whole ring shopping process “i know this probably isn't from some of the members. anyways, he tells you of his date plans for the night and you were into it. He tells you to dress normally with one of his hoodies and your favorite sweatpants or leggings (soobin loves your legs in leggings btw. he said so). you come in and he is dressed relaxed as well in those gray sweats you liked and a t-shirt you gave him as part of his birthday gift. He serves your dinners and then he takes you to his bed, getting comfortable together. after one episode of that new anime the both of you had started, he turns over to get something from his nightstand. he shuffles to sit on his knees and reveals the box to you, opening it shortly after. "i know this probably isn't the best proposal but we’ve had such a nice night. I love spending time at home with you. can we be homebodies together, forever?'' You nod and hug him super tight and he returns the hog. He gives you a sweet kiss after putting the ring on your finger and you two go back to watching your show and cuddling.

beomgyu

theme / amusement park

This man is so cute when it comes to a proposal. Let’s just say for the sake of this story that he takes you on an LA trip and you both have a knotts berry farm day! You two decided to skip out on disney because you two have already been together on a previous trip. You both also really wanted to see all of the snoopy memorabilia. You both have an amazing day getting on rides, drinking boysenberry juice and talking to each other the whole time. He loves seeing you so happy so he never says no to you not once that whole day. He lets you drag him to all of the performances happening at the park and even lets you take a picture of him with Snoopy, making finger guns at one another. As the day starts to wind down, you both decided to go souvenir shopping. Huening specifically requested a snoopy t-shirt so you both went to find him one. Beomgyu asks you to pick the t-shirt and he stays behind to find a snoopy plush to include in his proposal. He finds one and pays for it, as well as the requested souvenir you picked. He takes you back out to the park and you both take a seat to rest for a while before leaving the park. You take out your phone and dont notice when he turns around. He takes the plush out of the store bag and the ring out of his bag. He puts it in the plushies hand and turns back around. He taps your shoulder and you are met with a snoopy with an engagement ring in his hand. “Will you marry me, pretty lady?” he says in a high pitched voice and you gasp so loud that people turn around to look. You are absolutely red but you nod and beomgyu makes the plush put the ring on your finger. You call him a dork but he doesn't mind. He's your dork, forever. 

taehyun

at the beach

you and taehyun went to the beach often. it was always so quiet, especially when you two visited at night. These outings were frequent, especially when you both went to travel somewhere different. In this case though, you were both home in Korean. Taehyun was on a small break during the summer time before their next tour and he decided that now was as good as ever to propose. He drove the both of you to your favorite beach at around 8pm. On the way there, you both made stops to get dinner and then to pick up some snacks to enjoy while hanging out at the beach. Once you both get there, Taehyun sets up your beach blanket and you both sit down, starting to snack on some grapes. Taehyun took about 30 minutes before he decided to ask you. He scoots close to you and pulls the little box out of his bag. you give him a confused look and he opens it, looking at your shocked reaction. He wanted to give a whole speech but his words got stuck in his throat when he saw your reaction. you say yes to him and he hugs you, slipping the ring on after.

huening kai

in your hometown / family dinner

I think kai is really big when it comes to family so having your family present for such a big event was important for him. Not only that, it was also really important for him to get along with your family and have their approval. So, during this trip to your hometown over a winter break, he sends you off to go shopping with your close cousin/sibling. He takes this opportunity to gather the rest of your family and ask for their approval to propose to you and of course they say yes! They even help him plan a whole thing. They were excited to see that he loved you a lot and cared enough to ask for their opinions and approval. This especially swayed your parents, who came up to him after and had a little chat with him about what they’d do if he ever hurt you. Moving on….you come back home from shopping and you show kai all your finds! Later on that night, your family is all gathered together in the backyard around a bonfire, having drinks and chatting. After a little while, your family gives kai strange looks and you’re sitting there absolutely confused. Kai looked over at you and smiled, “hey baby. I wanna ask you something. Will you do me a big honor and marry me?” he pulls out the ring and as soon as you say yes, he slips it on your finger and everyone cheers!

[the-froschamethyst4]

Husband Of The Year

𖤐Pairing: Retired! Soap x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: Smut, fluff, language, Scottish slang, teasing, P in V, fingering, feminism, breadwinner Y/n, male wife Soap, kissing/making out, groping, nipple play, male masturbation,

𖤐Summary: Soap had retired from the Military a few years ago, and when he got married to his wife he started to become the best husband of their lives.

————

————

4:00PM

Y/n was coming home and her husband Soap had just made dinner for the both of them. He poured out some red wine for Y/n and poured some whiskey in a glass for him. He saw headlights pull into his driveway knowing it was his wife.

He goes to the front door, opening it and then seeing Y/n get out of her car and sees her husband.

"John."

"Hi, mo luaidh (my darling)." Soap says, placing his hand on her waist. "Come on," he says guiding her into the house.

Once the door was opened and Soap moves down and removes Y/n's heels from her feet. His hands were gentle on her ankles and his fingers gently caressed her calves up to her thighs.

"What did you do?" She asked.

"Nothing...am I not allowed to cook for my wife?"

"You are allowed to," she smiles at him.

"I always cook for you, mo luaidh (my darling)." He kisses her knee and then stood back up.

"What did you fix?"

"Your favorite," he says, guiding her to the dinning room and showing her the meal he made for her. "Red wine too," he says.

"Thank you, John, I'm gonna change and come back down," she says. Soap nods and sits at the end of the table.

Y/n soon came downstairs in a light purple silk nightgown that stopped at her mid thigh, Soap's eyes widened as Y/n's hair was a bit messy as well, doing it on purpose teasing Soap.

He smirks leaning back in his chair, he stood up pulling her chair out for her to sit, she does and he pushed her closer to the table.

"You look gorgeous, mo luaidh (my darling)." He leans down and kissed her temple.

"Thank you," she smiles at him as Soap went to his chair.

"How was work?" He started to make small talk with his wife.

"A mess," she says.

"How so?"

"We have an employee that calls in almost everyday, her excuse is pulling the 'I'm sick' card when she isn't sick, it's because she doesn't want to work and it's very obvious, she has come to me many times complaining about work, and then saying she'll call in because 'she's stressed out'...stressed out about what? Watching videos on your phone? She doesn't work!" Y/n was an exclusive director for the company she works at.

If she could she would fire this woman, but it's not her call. It was obvious that the woman gets under Y/n's skin a lot. Even the General Manager has an issue with this woman and they've both talked to her and the CEO about her.

Soap usually hears a lot about this woman and how she is basically a problem for the company. All that woman has to do is order products make sure they come in on time and calls people to let them know their products come in, but she never does it half of the time and sales people have to do her job for her, which pisses them off.

"I bet, what number is this?"

"23 and counting," Y/n says annoyed by this woman. Y/n eats her dinner as Soap just listens her her rant and enjoy her company.

"You're lucky you don't have to deal with someone like her," Y/n says.

"Well, I dealt with people like that in the Military."

"Really, how come you never told me?"

"Just never brought it up," he chuckles. "But I can tell you about the one who was released early from duty."

"Tell me!" She says, leaning on her hand to listen to her husband talk.

Soap tells her about a new recruit coming to the Military and two days in was released from duty because of bad conduct making him go to court because of his stunt.

"Yeah, you never told me that," she giggles.

"Again, we've never talked about it," he says. "Not only that it was a while ago, when I went to Russia for a week, I kind of forgot about it till now," he says as he moves his fork to his mouth.

"I see."

"Anything else going on?" He asked her.

"We...fired a girl," Y/n says.

"Fired someone?! What happened?"

"Remember that one girl I talked about when I caught her in the bathroom with a male employee?"

"Oh yeah!"

"Well, she was caught in the male bathroom...masturbating and we called a meeting with her, with all managers and directors and...the CEO decided to fire her."

"H-How the hell did she get into the males bathroom without getting caught going in?"

"I'm not sure, the person who caught her doing it was the director of Marketing, she left the door unlocked and was caught."

"Holy shit-did you bring up the time you caught her?"

"I did in the meeting after we fired her, we discussed the times we caught her and how we hid it till we called a meeting with her," Y/n says.

"Your company is a shit show."

"Oh I know, we try our best to control it, and it seems like a shit show when the CEO leaves for anything, and his assistant tries to control everything when he's gone," she pokes at her food.

"Anyways enough work talk. You done, mo luaidh (my darling)?"

"Yes," she says as Soap stood up taking his and hers plate to the sink. She stood up and walked to her husband. Her arms go around his waist.

"Mo luaidh?"

"I'll be upstairs," she says, walking away and Soap watches her walk away.

-----------

Soap turns off the lights downstairs and walk upstairs through the hallway and at the end of the hall was his shared bedroom with the light on. He pushes the door open seeing his wife still in her silk nightgown, she was on her stomach reading one of her books, she looks over her shoulder and smiles at her husband before putting a bookmark in her book.

She rolls over and look at her husband placing her book on her nightstand.

"Come here," she says with her arms open and Soap crawls on top of her. She kissed the top of his head and he kisses her neck. "John?"

He starts to move down kissing her neck, chest, between her breasts, and then her stomach. His hands groped at her breasts, his hands move under her nightgown and his fingers played with her hard nipple.

She lets out a soft moan as he was gentle with her. Ever since Soap's retirement, he treats Y/n like she is the last thing on Earth, their sex was amazing because of Soap and how he would make her feel, and how he started to figure out what she liked during sex.

They tried new things they've never tried before, or they would do things they both knew they got off.

Soap then moves down pulling at her panties, pulling them down and off her ankles, he tosses them somewhere in the bedroom. He then starts licking his lips and then starts licking between her wet folds.

He kisses between her folds. He spits on her clit and rubs a few minutes earning moans from Y/n, her hand holds his wrist as he then shoves his middle and ring finger inside of her.

Her back arches with the pleasure overwhelming her. Soap smirks at her and then starts licking and sucking on her clit. His tongue flicked against her bud a few times, moans filled the room, he used his free hand and pulled his dick out.

He pumps himself a few times. He loves her moans, her back arching because of the pleasure. She used her hand to help him. He moans letting her do all the work.

He kept licking her and kissing her slit. Her hands pumping him quickly and teasingly slowly down. She'll pick up the pace just to hear him moan and the vibrations from his mouth against her clit made her feel good.

He then moves his mouth and fingers and she whines when he moves away. Her hand wasn't touching him anymore. He pulls his boxers off and then starts aligning himself up at her entrance.

She smiles placing her hands on his neck bring him close to her, lips touching as he first starts out slow and easy, them both rocking back and forth against each other.

Their make out session was soft and easy, but back rough with her biting at his bottom lip as he pulls away and groans when feeling her teeth pull at his lip.

His thrusts were rough and sloppy. The same with his kisses, they were sloppy and messy. Y/n's moans filled the room and skin slapping as well.

Soap kissed her neck, jawline and the back to her lips. Y/n's nails then dug into his muscular back. He groans when feeling the sudden pain digging into his back, but he ignored it, he was on a mission to make his wife feel good.

He looks down at her, her face all red and his ears were filled with moans. Y/n then dragged her fingers from his back to his shoulders and then down to his buff chest.

Y/n felt herself close to coming. She let's out another moan and then tightened around Soap's cock, he moans feeling her tighten around him.

"Come on, mo luaidh (my darling), cum for me," he groans as she did what he asked, she ended coming on his dick, he pulls out and watches as cum leak from her clit slowly.

He bends down and starts licking her clean. Her hands held the end of her silk nightgown lifting it up as Soap was cleaning her up.

The retired Sargent, sits up on his knees smiling down at his wife and picked her up taking her to the bathroom.

He places her on the sink and starts a bath. Making sure it was hot and then placed some bubbles in the bath, Y/n removes her silk nightgown placing it on the floor and Soap picks her up and placing her gently in the bath.

"I'll be right back," he says, kissing her lips and heading out of the bathroom, she could see him snatch a clean pair of boxers and hurried to put them on.

She messes with the bubbles in the tub and cupped them in her hands and placed it back on the bubbles. Soap comes back with two glasses and the red wine he poured before.

He gives her one and then held the other, he leans on the side of the tub to watch his wife, his head resting on his arm, she talks to him and he listens.

"Do you want wash you?" He asked.

"Yes," she says as he grabs a loofa and puts her body wash on it. He starts to gently rub it on her arms, shoulders, she gently stood up. He then washed her stomach, back, between her legs, thighs and butt.

----------

30 Minutes Later

Y/n was on the bed with Soap holding her against his chest as she reads her book and Soap was watching TV on a low volume so Y/n could read her book.

She flips the pages with one hand and then other played with his arm hair as his left hand rested on her thigh and the other resting against her stomach and that hands rested close to her butt and he gently tapped her side to a random beat.

She closes her book, placing it on her nightstand and then looking at the TV to see what Soap was watching. Soap has been on a kick on watching old documentary's about old military planes, and wars that had happened in the past.

"What's this one about?" Y/n asked.

"Old planes and Vets stories about war," he says.

"Oh," was all she said as she cuddled up to Soap closing her eyes and falling asleep.

----------

Next Morning (6:00AM)

Y/n had woken up to her alarm, groaning as she turns it off, she rolls over to face Soap, he was big spooning her, his eyes closed and he looks peacefully sleeping.

Y/n kissed Soap's lips and got out of his buff arms, she gets up like normal, brushing her hair, and starting her shower getting in and washing her body and hair.

As the water run, Soap wakes up and hears the water, he rolls over seeing the bathroom light on and the door cracked trying not to shine the light on him as he slept.

He stretched up and got out of bed. Heading downstairs to then make tea for Y/n and himself some as well, Soap doesn't drink tea as much as Y/n, she only drinks it to be calm before she works.

Y/n walks downstairs seeing her husband making the hot tea, she was in a towel around her body and another holding up her hair. Soap smiles seeing her.

"How was your shower?" He asked.

"Fine," she yawns as she was handed her mug taking a small sip. Soap walks behind her placing his hand on her hip kissing her temple as she sipped from her mug again.

"Go get dressed and I'll make you some breakfast," he says as she walks upstairs getting dressed and taking her damp hair out of the towel.

Soap had made her some waffles and she ate before going back upstairs to do her hair, make up and grabbing her purse and heels.

"Okay, I'll see you later, John."

"I'll see you, later mo luaidh (my darling)." He kissed her lips and he watched her leave for her work.

[thetriumphantpanda]

Delicate - Chapter Two: Maroon

3.7k / pairing: joel miller x f!reader

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

summary: despite some last minute reservations about meeting Joel, you throw yourself into the date, but it doesn't go according to plan.

A/N: Ahhhhh oh my God - @hellishjoel and I are so excited to bring you the second chapter of Delicate! We're having the best time with this little pairing already and we hope they manage to worm their way into your hearts just like they have with us! We're taking turns in posting the chapters of this - so please make sure you're following both of us to keep up to date!

warnings: mentions of being a single parents, rom-com vibes, foul language, a bestie who is nothing but trouble, Joel being terrible at dating in general, a lil smattering of angst, mentions of food & alcohol consumption.

There’s a flow of peace that settles across you when the door to Noah’s room clicks shut. You love him, he’s the best thing that ever happened to you, and he keeps you afloat every day, but these moments, when he’s finally asleep and you can stop thinking for a minute, are the moments you crave each day. 

You settle down on the couch, mug of tea in hand, with the TV playing quietly, just for background noise more than anything, as you pick up your phone for the first time that evening. There’s a few emails, mainly about shopping sales and holidays that you think you should book but never do - those are quickly deleted to stop any temptation of spending money on something that isn’t essential. There are a few messages from your mom, just confirming that she’ll pick Noah up from school tomorrow, what she’s planned for them to do and what she’ll feed him. You shoot a message off in reply that it all sounds good and that he’s excited for some quality time with his grandparents, because it’s true, and then you set your phone down on the coffee table and try to ignore it for a while. 

You finish your tea and queue up a few episodes of a show you’ve been meaning to catch up on - something mindless that people at work always seem to talk about. So mindless that it actually sends you to sleep. You wake with a jolt a few hours later. The house is still quiet, which means Noah hasn’t decided he’s still got too much energy and needs to burn it off by jumping on the bed or pulling some of his toys out. You sigh, checking the time to see it’s almost midnight. 

You gather your stuff, put the mug in the sink to deal with in the morning before trudging up to bed. There’s a moment at the top of the stairs, where you think it would be so easy to flop down on the bed and forgo the rest of your responsibilities, but you’ve got your mother’s voice in the back of your mind, something about wrinkles and pores and how bad it is to sleep in your makeup, so you turn left into the bathroom, cover your skin in serums and creams and then finally, just after midnight, you fall into bed. 

Knowing it’s bad to look at your phone this late at night, once you’ve set your alarm, you click open the godforsaken Hinge app that Dixie had insisted on setting you up on. So far, after six months, you’d been on a fair few first dates, three second dates and had a God awful one night stand, but nothing had been sticking, no-one seemed to be exactly what you were looking for. You’d promised her that you’d try though, so as had become a nightly ritual for you, you set about giving away your daily likes, not really paying a huge amount of attention until he pops up for you. Joel. 45. From his first profile picture, the exact kind of man you’d been searching for. Rugged, handsome, 

Of the few photos he had on his profile, he was often donning a flannel or a simple short-sleeved shirt that curved around his biceps and broad shoulders. He always wore the same tilted smile, with dazzling eyes and dark hair with licks of silver. He was a handsome lumberjack of sorts. 

He looked to be an outdoorsman, at least two of Joel’s pictures were of him hiking a trail accompanied by a young girl, surrounded by greenery and tall rocks with the sunshine peeking through the branches. His face was glowing and tan from the light, his handsomeness so natural. Beautiful, even. 

Joel’s “Typical Sunday” consisted of a black coffee in the morning, followed by making burgers on the grill for him and his family before settling down to watch a Dallas Cowboys football game. That was a typical Sunday for a man, but it showed how he liked to unwind and that he was a family man. 

First, the mention of a family, plus that beautiful young woman in almost all of Joel’s pictures - a daughter, perhaps? Older than your own boy by quite a few years. He must have been on the younger side of having children if any of these assumptions were even correct. But there was something about knowing he also had a baby to be thinking of felt familiar, comforting, as they would always come first. 

 And it turns out that talking to him is pretty easy too. He’s charming, a slight insomniac like you, and from what you can tell from the slight back and forth you managed to have before you go to sleep, able to flirt a little with you too. It’s why when he asks to take you out you say yes without hesitation, it could be fun, he could be the one, who knows? 

Mornings are always chaos. Half-eaten bowls of cereal on the table, a mug of coffee made with the best of intentions but sat to go cold, a rush of getting Noah dressed and in the car with everything he needed for school and then the annoyance of getting stuck in traffic on the way to drop him off, all coalesce to make you stressed as you help Noah out of the backseat. 

“Remember granny is picking you up this afternoon okay?” You ask, bending down to kiss his cheek as he fiddles with the straps of his backpack. 

“I know, mom.” He groans, using the back of his hand to wipe the kiss off his cheek. 

You smile, ruffle his hair a bit, because no matter how much he might protest, he will always be your baby, “Behave for her, okay?” You warn lightly with a smile, “She’ll bring you back home tomorrow.” 

Noah spots some of his friends across the playground and steps around you to make his way into school. You turn, hold your hand up in a wave and shout at him to have a good day. Noah turns, walking backwards to look at you, waving right back. 

“Have a good day, mom!” 

Underneath the way he’s growing up, he’s still the sweet little boy you knew you could raise on your own. You sit back in your car, picking your phone up to make sure you’ve got enough time to go to the store and stock up on some groceries, when you notice a notification from Hinge. It’s Joel. 

Just checking you’re still okay for tonight? 

For some reason, you sit and stare at it for a few minutes, fingers itching to type something, to confirm, but there’s that usual seed of doubt that appears after all this time that makes you want to tell him something’s come up, you’ll have to reschedule. After months and months of trying to find someone, to failed first date after failed first date, you wonder if it really is worth it, no matter how good of a match Joel Miller seems on paper. Is he really going to be worth getting dressed up for? You sigh, type out your usual message of I’m sorry, I think I might have to reschedule, when the screen is filled with the face of your best friend, trying to call you. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello sexy mama!” Dixie’s voice immediately soothes you, “How are you this fine morning?” 

“I’m okay,” You speak softly, plugging the phone into the car so you can speak to her as you drive, “Just dropped Noah off at school.” 

“How is my favourite man?” She asks. 

“Yeah, he’s good, he’s staying with my mom tonight so I think he’s just pleased to be away from me for a while.” 

“It’s like the universe read my mind!” Dixie exclaims on the other end of the phone, “Do you want to go out and get wine drunk tonight?” 

You stutter for a second, because you could, you could cancel with Joel, go out and drink cheap wine and dance with your friend, but before you can say anything, Dixie picks up on your hesitation. 

“OH MY GOD!” She all but screeches, “Do you have a hot date tonight?!” 

You grumble a little, because how is she always so attuned to you like this? 

“Yeah, although I don’t know if I’m gonna go.” 

“Why not?” 

You sigh again, “I don’t know if it’s worth it anymore?” You offer. 

“Girl, get outta here with that attitude!” She chastises, “Is he hot?” 

You grumble a little again, but you can’t deny it, Joel is hot, “Yes.” 

“Well then,” You can hear her clap her hands in the background, clearly having you on speaker so she can go about her business, “If he’s hot, then there’s no harm in it, forget me and my wine, go out, drink wine with your hot mystery stranger and get fucked, girl!” 

“Dixie!” You screech, “I’m not fucking him.” 

“Whatever you say, girl!” She shouts down the phone, “If you cancel, I’m kicking your ass, okay?” You sigh, once again, something you’re getting more and more used to these days, “Have fun and be safe!” 

And then all you can hear is the dial tone from where she’s hung up on you. You think about it all the way around the grocery store, she wouldn’t know if you did cancel, would she? But you’ve known her long enough to know she’d sniff a lie out of you in seconds. So, when you settle down at your desk, you pull out your phone and send Joel a reply to confirm the plans you made last night, and then spend the rest of the work day trying not to work yourself up about the whole thing. 

You don’t think that the anxiety of waiting for a date to show up will ever get easier. Stood just inside the doorway of the restaurant Joel had chosen, you’re chewing at the skin around your thumbnail. Did you dress right? Do you look okay? When he turns up will he look like his pictures or not? Will he lean in for a kiss on the cheek? Do you give him a hug? You’d like to think of yourself as a seasoned pro at this now, but those first few awkward moments always made you anxious - there was no second chance at first impressions. 

You needn’t have worried about Joel though. When the door opens and he stands in front of you, he is exactly the man you’d studied on that app. Taller than you, broad and big. Scruff, peppered with gray across his face, though it’s neatly kept, just like this hair, although more unruly, it’s still peppered with grays and it suits him. He’s wearing dark jeans, and a flannel that you think must be saved for best. You step closer, open your arms. Joel leans down, and does indeed press a kiss to your cheek, one of his wide palms pressed lightly on your lower back as he hugs you back a little. 

“Nice to meet you, Joel.” You smile when he pulls away. 

“You too, ma’am.” He smiles back at you, and you can tell he’s nervous. 

“What have I told you about that?” You tease as you step towards the hostess, Joel giving her his name, you hope the slight teasing will put him at ease, you remember just what it was like when you started dating for the first time, and as much as you want to have a good time, you want to make sure Joel is having a good time too. 

She picks up two menus, leads the two of you to a table at the edge of the restaurant. Joel pulls your chair out for you, pushing it gently under you as you sit down. The light is low, and there’s a thrum of chatter across the whole restaurant as you open the menu, glancing your eyes over the choices. 

“Do you want to share a bottle of wine?” You ask, finger skimming the list of wines available. 

Joel nods, “Sure thing, darlin’.” 

You smile, looking down at the menu, deciding you much prefer darling to ma’am, especially in that sweet southern drawl of his. When the waitress returns, you both order food and a bottle of wine, which is quickly brought to the table, uncorked, with the dark red liquid poured into two glasses. The waitress leaves the bottle on the table as you raise your glass, Joel following suit, clinking them together before you take a sip. 

You’re watching as he does the same, a smaller sip than you, and then watch as his nose crinkles and he coughs a little. It makes you laugh, putting your glass down to cover your mouth a little. 

“Dunno why I said yes,” He shakes his head, “Fuckin’ hate wine.” 

You can’t help but properly laugh now, hoping that it puts him a little at ease. You reach over the table, lay your hand on his wrist just a touch, “What would you prefer to drink?” 

You don’t miss the way he subtly drags his wrist back from your touch, covering it by scratching at the skin on the side of his hand, but you don’t let it bother you. You’re a touchy person, it’s what makes you feel at ease mostly, but that doesn’t mean it works for Joel, so you fold your hands back in your lap. 

“Usually beer,” He mumbles, flagging down the waitress as she walks past to ask for just that, “Or whiskey.” 

“I don’t mind a beer,” You offer, trying to make light conversation, “But whiskey makes my throat burn.” 

He doesn’t offer much of a reply apart from a short hum from his mouth, his attention moving from you to the room around you, letting the table fall into silence. You look down at your lap, trying to think of things to say whilst you wait for your food. 

“So, Sarah, right?” You ask after his daughter, it’s something the two of you have in common at least, “You must be super proud of her, medical school is incredible.” 

“Yeah,” He says simply, “She’s a very smart girl.” 

You expect him to ask after Noah, ask him a little about what he’s like, maybe what his favourite subjects are at school or whether he’s in any sports clubs or anything, but he doesn’t offer anything else to you, doesn’t ask any questions. 

There’s a lull in the conversation, saved by the waitress dropping your meals in front of you, fresh tomato pasta with chicken for you and steak and mashed potatoes with asparagus for Joel. You swirl your fork through the pasta, scooping some into your mouth as Joel cuts into his steak. Your eyes are trained on him, watching how he eats - it’s one of your big tests, table manners, and to be fair to him, he passes with flying colours - sure he eats a bit fast, but it’s nothing off-putting, and he seems to be able to use a knife and fork properly and chew with his mouth closed, which is a far cry from the last person you’d been out with. 

“You look really good tonight,” You offer, setting your fork down for a moment, “The flannel is very Texas.” 

You think in the dim light you can see him flush a little, and you’ve not said anything that isn’t true, he does look good. Fucking great actually. Joel finishes swallowing, takes a swig of his beer. 

“Thank you,” He tips his head towards you, “You look nice too,” He brings his hand up to his face to motion, “Rosy cheeks.” 

You try not to let your disappointment show, it is a compliment after all, so you put all your focus back down into your meal, the two of you finishing your food in a rather awkward silence - you willing Joel to ask you something, to start a conversation, anything really. You watch as Joel pushes the asparagus around his plate after eating two of the spears, finishing off his steak and potatoes but leaving the rest of the greens. 

When the waitress comes back to clear your plates, she asks if you’d like the dessert menu. You look to Joel, who tips his head in a way to say it’s up to you, but this has quite possibly been the most excruciating few hours of your life, so you drain your glass of wine, tip the last of the bottle into the glass and sit to wait for the bill. 

“Listen,” Joel starts, dragging your attention from the bottom of your glass to him, a look of slight regret on his face, “I ain’t too good at all this,” He tries to explain, “It’s been a long time and I’m a little rusty.” 

You kind of want to wring his ass for it a little, but underneath his apparent disinterest, you can still see the nerves of the guy who first walked through the door, and you get it, you think you’d been similar when you first started dating again, but you don’t think you’d completely lost the ability to think of a single question. 

Joel insists on paying the bill and you don’t fight him for the privilege of splitting it - you think it might upset some of that southern chivalry he has and for someone else they’ll love that. It’s a silent affair as you both stand up, gather your things. 

“How are you getting home?” Joel asks, holding the front door open for you. 

“I can just grab a cab,” You smile, “How about you?” 

He points to a truck, “Only had one so I can drive home,” He explains, “Do you mind if I wait with you for your cab?” He asks, “I’d feel better knowing you get in one safe.” 

“Of course,” You smile, “The hostess called one for me, so it shouldn’t be long.” 

There’s another lull in conversation, thankfully your cab arrives quickly, saving the silence from falling into awkwardness again. Joel beats you to the door, opening it for you. 

“I would say it’s been nice meeting you,” He speaks, “But I feel like I made this real difficult, and I’m sorry for that.” 

Going to step into the cab, you stop, leaning down to put your bag in the back seat, pausing a little before you turn back around to him, meeting his eyes. They’re striking, dark brown and beautiful, and trying to tell you just how much he knows he’s messed up. It makes your heart sink because you feel that sadness too, knowing he had so much promise, that he understood you in a way you thought other people didn’t, without even needing to talk to you, he’s a single parent, he gets it, like other people don’t. It frustrates you, makes your breath catch in your throat and your eyes glass over. 

You bring a comforting hand to his shoulder, “It’s okay,” You add a smile at the end, “It takes some time to get used to this all again, I was the same,” You look down at your shoes,  “It’ll get easier each time you do it, I promise.” 

His head dips, regret flashed across his face, like he wishes he could go back and do it all over but better this time. 

“M’sorry, again,” His tone is low, morose even, then he dips, presses a soft kiss to your cheek, “Get home safe.” 

You flop down on your bed, hand running over your face, wondering at what point it had gone wrong. He’d had so much potential, had seemed like he could be so right for you, so what went wrong? 

No sooner have you sent the ‘home safe’ message to Dixie, do you feel the soft vibrating of your phone. You answer, put the phone on loudspeaker and set it by your head. 

“So, how did it go?” 

You groan, “He had so much potential Dix,” You let out a pained noise, “I don’t know where it went wrong?!” 

“Oh honey,” She coos down the phone, aware more than anyone how much you wanted to be done with dating and finally have someone you could spend time with, “What happened?” 

“I don’t even know!” You exclaim, “Like, I could tell he was nervous, and this was his first date in years, but it was like he’d never spoken to a woman in his life, it was so hard!” 

You can hear her sucking on her teeth on the other end of the phone, “Are you being too hard on him?” She asks, “You always say the cocky men are no good because they’re rehearsed, maybe he just needs time to warm up?” 

“Dixie, I’d need a flamethrower to warm him up!” 

That gets a giggle out of her, “Mama, listen to me,” She goes into serious mode now, “Not everyone is as seasoned as you at this, and if this was his first date in years and he comes face to face with you? Of course he’s going to be nervous, you can’t write him off just for that honey.” 

That’s when your truth really hits out, “But what if I spend all that time warming him up and it’s a waste of time? He could turn out to be no good for me and then I’ve wasted so much time instead of trying to find the right person.” 

“Honey, respectfully, you’re forty, not at the end of your life, I promise that maybe spending some time trying to unravel someone a little instead of writing them off immediately might actually be worth it.” 

“I don’t know, Dix…” You trail off. 

“Just sleep on it, okay?” She offers, “See how you feel when you wake up before you send him the ‘thanks but no thanks’ message.” 

“Okay, I promise.” 

The two of your say goodbye to each other, you stay led on the bed for a while before you push yourself up, plug your phone into the charger, noticing the notification from Hinge when your screen lights up. You can see it’s Joel’s name that sits on the front screen. You sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed, weighing up whether to read it or not. Deciding that if you do read it, you’re likely to make a decision against what Dixie told you, so you leave the notification sitting there, get yourself ready for bed and then will yourself to sleep without going over every second of the date wondering what you could have done differently.

[star-suh]

Love for Sale

Lee Sangyeon x Male Reader

cw: top sangyeon, college au, pwp, age gap (sangyeon is 30 and reader is 20+), sex toy, blowjob, fingering, window sex, frottage, spit as lube, sir kink(?), facial, implied multiple rounds, happy ending (but not that kind of happy ending 😏).

—

y/n was struggling to pay his college, his part-time job was no longer enough. one day while looking at the profiles on a dating app he saw one that caught his attention, the most handsome man he had ever seen, he tapped the profile displaying all his personal info "sangyeon huh?.. and he's looking for a sugar baby… interesting".

y/n send a “hello” which was answered almost immediately by sangyeon "hello handsome." y/n decided to be forward and wrote "i’m interested in the sugar baby thing. i really need the money.", “well then i suppose you know how this works” replied sangyeon…

sangyeon sent y/n the address of the hotel and the room number so they could meet there. “ok y/n you got this” he declared, slapping gently his right cheek. y/n hasn't had sex in over a year so he's a little nervous "damn" he shouted in a low tone "have i prepared myself well?" he asked himself as the elevator went up, "what if he fucks me but then doesn't pay me?" millions of scenarios came to his mind until the elevator doors finally opened bringing him out of his thoughts. walking slowly y/n looked door to door looking for the correct room number... "it's here... it's fine y/n do it for the money" he sighed.

y/n knocked on the door, a few seconds later it opened revealing the sexy man behind it "welcome" he greeted "sangyeon, nice to meet you" he extended his hand to shake y/n's "oh... hello haha ​​it-it's y/n". sangyeon laughed when he saw the boy, "wipe your drool," he joked, murmuring a "cute” very quietly that y/n didn't hear.

"well, let's do it" says y/n causing a smirk to appear on sangyeon's face "so eager, aren't we?" the older grabs y/n by his chin, guiding him towards his lips to give him a kiss. lips clashing together, their tongues exploring the inside of each other's mouths sharing the saliva between them. sangyeon's hand went down y/n's pants unbuckling the belt and then discarding it along with the underwear, he continued going down until he touched something metallic "umm what is this?" he broke the kiss to look. "uhh it's a plug... i thought that since you're a busy man you wouldn't have much time so... i prepared myself before coming here..", "how thoughtful" the older smiled, kissing and licking the younger's neck.

y/n sat face to face with sangyeon, bringing both cocks together with his hands and began to rub them, the friction causing a delicious heat. y/n could feel how sangyeon's cock was growing in his hands getting bigger and thicker "sir you have a fat monster cock" he moaned.

the top grabs the other by the shoulders moving towards him, putting his lips close to the other's ear and with a low and sexy voice he whispers "and you're going to have it all inside you soon”.

"that's it, spit on it, cover it all with your saliva" sangyeon demanded and the other male just obeyed starting to suck his cock, trying to leave it as wet as possible using his tongue to smear the saliva all over his shaft with a little going down to his balls and dripping from there. “i think this is enough sir” y/n talked with his mouth still stuffed.

y/n sat on sangyeon, feeling the pleasant contrast between the cold saliva and the hot dick he was about to ride. moving his hips up and down feeling every vein of that fat cock. sangyeon's satisfied face let y/n know that he was doing a good job "that's it, keep it up" the top groaned, his huge veiny hands groping y/n's ass cheeks then using them to guide him to speed up his movements. these movements were so erratic that at one point sangyeon's cock came out of the hole with a 'pop' sound. “you're doing a good job” praised the man fingering the used hole.

sangyeon tapped y/n's thigh twice to get him to stand up, he grabbed his hand walking towards the window. “no one will be able to see us from here" he murmured, biting the other's ear. y/n was being pressed by sangyeon's huge frame against the window, watching as his dick hit the window every time sangyeon gave a hard thrust, staining it with his pre-cum "shit you're leaking a lot... apparently you like the idea of ​​being seen huh?”. y/n shook his head saying no, “what was that? you're saying no but your body says otherwise”.

y/n was a mess of moans and embarrasment, he couldn't deny the enormous pleasure that sangyeon was making him feel, he was reaching places that no one else had reached before, opening him to new experiences and sensations. "you make me feel so good sir sangyeon, i want more" the younger begged. "believe me, from now on you're going to have a lot more of this" said the other, inserting his fingers into the abused hole along with his cock, overstimulating the boy so much that he came untouched, his cock splurting cum that landed on the window, " a masterpiece" the taller laughed, "now be a good boy and kneel in front of me" y/n obeyed and waited there with his mouth open and tongue out as sangyeon jerked off, his loud moans reaching y/n's dick directly making it hard again. “shit” he moaned spilling his seed on y/n, covering his face and part of his chest.

both share a kiss “it looks that your friend wants more” y/n tapped on sangyeon's still hard dick making it bounce, sangyeon's sexy smirk appeared again “round 2?”...

months have passed since the first meeting between the two of them, what started simply as a money-sex relationship ended with both of them catching feelings for each other. on one of the few dates where they had dinner, sangyeon decided to take the first step and confess his feelings for the other, however he was prepared to be rejected. “i think i love you too" those simple words filled the older's heart with so much joy that he just screamed with excitement, drawing the attention of the other customers "i'm sorry, keep enjoying your food" he apologized and the only thing y/n did was laughing at him feeling secondhand embarrassment. nowadays the couple is very happy, knowing that they have each other for the rest of their lives.

[gyllenhaalstories]

FORTUNE COOKIE — DETECTIVE LOKI 🥠

summary: you're in luck! the restaurant did not run out of fortune cookies this time.

warnings:food & eating, smut (hickeys, mirror sex, nipple play, thighjob, mention of edging). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 1785

gif credits: @/elliewilliums (cropped) / divider credits: @/saradika-graphics

notes: happy valentine's day! i'm sending you all so much love. 💝 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

You parked your car next to Loki's, although the parking lot was empty at this hour. This sounded like a cute metaphor about how you could have all the space in the world, yet you'd rather stay close to your man. Anyway. You parked your car and struggled with just about everything beyond that point. Your hands were too full to close and lock the door easily and to zip your coat and put its hood over your head. Once you figured it out, you waddled your way to the restaurant. You struggled with the push and pull mechanism, nothing special there, and you especially struggled to look normal while you bee-lined to his usual table.

You were lucky, his back faced the door so he did not catch even the smallest visual glimpse of your shenanigans. Although he could not see you, his face beamed with a smile at the squeaky sound of your shoes and at your clumsy apologies to the waitress for coming in so close to closing hours.

"Surprise." You laughed at how you ruined your own plans. You handed him the precious package you were holding close to your body this whole time.

"What are you doing here?" Loki's eyes glanced up at you, then down at the box you were handing him. Pink wrapping paper, pink ribbon, pink bow, pink everything.

"I just told you, I wanted to surprise you." He emptied your hand so you could pull your phone out of your pocket. "Look, it's after midnight."

He blinked, with an arched brow.

"That means it's Valentine's Day." You smiled from ear to ear.

"I thought we had plans for dinner not... for now."

"Surprise!" You repeated and hopped closer to him, leaning in for a quick kiss. "I know we said no gift. I also know that if I tried to hide the gift, you'd find it. So this is the best plan I came up with!"

He set the box down on the table and attempted to search through the pocket of his black coat, but he stopped to listen to you.

You told him you knew he'd be there to eat before coming back home, so you would not lovingly scold him about not prioritizing his needs. You told him it was no bother, to drive in the middle of the night to meet with him. You told him you planned this all out with love. You also told him how proud you were for surprising him for once, well, kind of.

"I'm proud of you." You smiled when you sat down in front of him. You caught him just in time, too, he had finished his food. He politely asked the waitress for a refill of coffee. He searched his coat again and pulled a gift out of it.

The box was not wrapped up all cutesy like yours, but you could not care less.

"I know we said no presents." The waitress reappeared and placed two fortune cookies between Loki and you. She walked back to the kitchen with the empty coffee pot.

After Loki sipped his coffee, you both agreed to open your presents at the same time.

Loki carefully pulled on the ribbon and peeled the heart patterned paper off the box. He gasped when he opened it and discovered a ring. It resembled the Masonic ring he wore, but it was different. Loki's ring was plain, it suited him. But the one you got for him showed intricate details and complex craftsmanship.

"I don't need to understand it to know it's important for you." You watched his reactions closely while he studied the ring. You explained how you saw an advertisement in the newspaper about people selling vintage knickknacks. It was not too far out of town, it was set up like a yard sale. You found the ring in an old jewellery box, had it cleaned up, and saved it for this special occasion.

"I love it." He closed the box and smiled widely. "Thank you." You could feel how much this gift mattered to him and you were happy with yourself. "It's your turn."

So, you opened your present too. You frowned, confused, when you pulled out a chain that looked exactly like his.

"You like mine so much, figured you wanted your own..." You spoke at the same time. "So we can match."

You insisted on putting it on right away, but Loki decided you should wait until you both got home. The waitress came back to clean your tables and, before you left, you opened your fortune cookies.

Loki was a little superstitious about his cookies, he liked to give them time to work their magic so you did not share what the strip or paper said right away. He paid and tipped the waitress generously and headed outside.

You waved goodbye at the waitress and wished her "Happy Valentine's day!"

*~*~*

Loki hung the towel to dry on the rack, his messy half dry hair looked so different from his usual slicked back look. He looked relaxed, at peace. He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist while the steam from the shower slowly dissipated.

You handed him the small necklace and he groaned in response, not wanting to leave the embrace just yet. You had waited too long with the ride home in your respective cars and the long steamy shower. You wanted your present.

He obliged, though, and carefully put the chain around your neck. He watched your reflection in the mirror with a corner smile. "You look so beautiful, my love."

You looked at yourself through the mirror too and brought your hand to touch the cold metal of the chain. It was exactly like Loki's, you'd always have a piece of him with you that way.

Loki kissed your cheek and along the side of your neck, where he focused until your brain got too fuzzy to thank him again for the Valentine's day present. He lingered on one spot, sucking a light mark on it that he soothed with gentle licks. His hands caressed your exposed chest.

"I'm guessing you love it as much as I do?" You looked at the mirror again and caught a glimpse of your man smirking against your skin and marking you up some more while his hands were groping your tits.

He grunted, now teasing your nipples until they got hard. He loved to feel you squirm against his naked body, your ass grinding on his hardening cock.

You gasped when he pinched and pulled gently on your nipples.

He had no intention of hurting you, he simply wanted to tease you. His day was long, rough, as it always seemed to be but your surprise at the restaurant put him in a much better mood. Despite wanting to enjoy your body and to explore every inch of it by peppering kisses, his body forced him to pick up the pace.

"Please..." You whispered, begging him to keep touching you.

And he did, without needing you to explain any further. His hands abandoned your breasts and travelled down.

You lost sight of them in the mirror, but your entire body felt like it melted when his fingers touched your pussy.

"So fucking wet for me." He praised you in your ear, before he switched sides and started to mark the rest of your neck with hickeys. He dipped two fingers between your folds.

Instinctively, your legs opened up for him. You gave him enough space for his hand, but also for his cock.

He pushed his cock between your legs and moaned of pleasure when your pussy lips coated him with wetness. Loki helped you close your legs just a bit, so that he could fuck your thighs.

It was not as satisfying as having him buried inside of your pussy or feeling his fingers rub your tingly clit, but this felt so good still.

It felt especially good when Loki grabbed your hips to hold you in place. He fucked himself with your thighs, grunting louder and louder with each thrust. "Fuck," he mumbled, face still in your neck. "Been thinking of your pussy all day."

You reached a hand behind you and put it on the back of his head, holding him close. "Need you inside me, baby."

"Say that again." He demanded, his eyes rolled to the back of his head when you whined loudly as the tip of his cock hit your clit.

You took a deep breath, trying to speak coherently although this seemed next to impossible when Loki was fucking you. "I need your cock so bad. I need you inside me. Please. Please!"

"Good girl." Loki stopped moving, his cock lodged between your thighs and under your wet pussy.

"Why?" You complained, tears began to pool at the corner of your eyes. You needed him to keep going so bad.

His fingers started to rub your clit instead, but it was way too slow for your liking. "Wanna know what my fortune cookie said?"

You put your hand over his, trying to make him speed up and take you closer to your orgasm, but you failed.

His strong hand just kept rubbing small, lazy circles on your sensitive clit. "Answer me. Do you want to know?"

You rolled your eyes and surrendered. "What did it say?"

He wore a proud smile on his face. When you noticed it, you chuckled. "It said to Plan for many pleasures ahead." You rolled your eyes and he insisted. "No, no, no. I'm serious! You don't believe me? You wanna see it?" He gave your pussy a gentle slap to make you quit your attitude.

It succeeded in making your brain short circuit for a second.

"I can prove it to you that this was written on the paper. It's in my coat, I'm gonna go and get it." Loki pulled away from you, his hands, and his cock, leaving your body.

You whined so loud that he laughed.

He was surprised at your reaction, but he was more so aroused at how much you wanted to feel him.

"What is it? You don't want me to go?"

"Absolutely not." You turned around, finally looking at him directly in the eye. "But we're still gonna go somewhere." You erased the distance between your bodies again only to push him out of the bathroom and in direction of the bedroom.

He walked backwards, letting you guide him with a proud smirk.

"I'd rather make the fortune cookie's wish come true."

Loki turned you around and, when you finally got near the bed, he pushed you down on it. "That's my good fucking girl."

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Two

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

I'm so overwhelmed and grateful for all the lovely comment you all left on the first part of A Baker's Dozen! I'm having so much fun exploring what it's like to write for different Pedro boys and finding their voices.

For those of you who are new, we've got twelve Pedro boys, twelve short stories, each set in the same bakery.

It's fluff and sweetness, lots of food and flirting. Series Master List

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring

The glare is what catches your eye first, sunlight bounces off the shiny metal surface and hits your face through the window. You shield your eyes and glance at the door as it swings open, for a second you can’t see who steps through, you’re almost blinded, but as the door swings closed, he, or she, comes into focus. 

“Hi, welcome!” you say, trying to keep your voice steady as the imposing figure takes a few tentative steps into your bakery. 

“Heading for a con?” you ask, glancing up and down the impressive outfit. 

“A con?” 

The voice that comes through the helmet is deep and resonates through what almost sounds like a speaker. It’s definitely a man, if the sheer size of the body didn’t give it away. He’s tall, broad and made even broader by the metal pauldrons on his shoulders. A heavy belt hangs around his narrow waist as if to emphasize the sheer build of this hunk of metal that’s standing in the middle of your shop, looking somewhat lost despite the fact that you can't see his face under a solid looking metal helmet. 

“Yeah, like a convention, where people meet and dress as their favorite characters from tv-shows and stuff. Are you going to a con?” 

“No,” comes the short answer.

He looks around the bakery, the black T of his visor seemingly scanning the selection of bread and cakes you have for sale today. 

“Something smells…good,” he says, turning his helmet back onto you and you can’t help but smile. 

“Thanks, yeah, I had a pretty tasty selection today, but most of it’s already been sold,” you wave your hand over the mostly empty display cases, “Do you want to buy something?” 

“I…don’t think I have credit,” he hesitates but he takes another step into the shop, glancing down at the croissants stacked in a basket next to the till. 

“We accept cash too,” you reply, “you don’t need a credit card.” 

“No, I mean, I don’t have the right…currency for your world.” 

“Oh…” you frown, did he just say ‘your world’? 

You mentally shake your head, a misunderstanding, surely.

“I mean, I could let you sample something, then maybe you’ll come back with the right currency,” you say, smiling at the man. He sounds a bit confused and your customer service persona kicks in, unwilling to let someone leave without trying something that’ll get them to come back. 

“I don't know what you sell here,” he says, “I have never seen food like this before.” 

“Oh, really? What kind of baked goods do you have where you’re from?” you ask, surprised, you were sure pretty anyone would recognise at least a muffin and a cookie, both on display in your cases. 

The tall metal man comes closer, standing next to the counter and looking at the selection, “We have many baked things where I’m from, but I have never tried any of them.” 

“You’ve never had dessert?” you ask incredulously, “I have dessert every day, it’s a must!”. 

“I’m Mandalorian, food is only energy for our bodies, we don’t indulge in it,” he straightens up when he says it, his hands falling to his hips. He looks imposing, like a warrior all of a sudden, and his voice takes on a serious note. 

“Oh, wow, I didn’t know that was a thing, a mandalorian, huh” you raise your eyebrows, this guy doesn’t even seem like a cosplayer. Or he’s really in character. 

“Are you not allowed to eat dessert at all, or is it just like, not an everyday kinda thing?”  

“I can eat what I want but I’ve never had a need for dessert,” the voice coming through the helmet is a rich baritone, but holds a guarded edge, like the owner is trying to navigate something unfamiliar.

“I mean…technically there’s never a need for dessert, but I eat it everyday anyway. A good dessert is sometimes the only way to fix a bad day,” you give him your warmest smile, trying to make him feel a bit more at ease as you go back to straightening up your counter for the end of the day. 

“What’s this?” The man points to the croissants on the counter and you pick one up with the tongs, holding it out to him. 

“It’s a croissant, a French type of pastry. It’s not sweet, just has a metric ton of butter in it. It’s really flaky as you can see. Go on, try it.” 

“I don’t remove my helmet in front of other people,” he replies and your eyebrows shoot even higher up into your hairline. 

“What…but why?” The second the question comes out of your mouth you regret it, “Sorry, don’t answer that, it’s none of my business.” 

“You can ask, I don’t mind,” he says and you think you hear a slight smile from behind the helmet. “I’m Mandalorian, it’s my religion, and we don’t remove our helmets in front of others, it is the way.” 

“So you only eat alone?” you ask, curiosity overtaking your embarrassment and he nods. 

“Yes, we never share a meal with others.”  

“How sad, for me I mean,” you say, “One of the best parts about being a baker is seeing when others eat what I’ve made, I love seeing their reactions. If you try something, I won’t know what you think about it.” 

“I can just turn my back to you and lift my helmet a little,” he replies, and you can definitely hear the smile in his voice now. It changes the tone of his voice, as it comes through the helmet, makes it warmer, softer, and you smile back at him. 

“What do you want to try then?” you ask, “If you’ve never had dessert then I have to give you something special to try.”

“I don’t know,” he looks around the cakes and cookies on display and shakes his head, “I can read your signs but I don’t know what cinnamon or vanilla tastes like, or this one.” He points to a stack of millionaire’s shortbread, “I have never heard of peanuts.” 

“Well, in that case, just in case you're allergic to peanuts, let’s not start with them,” you grin, “the last thing I need is you passing out from an allergic shock in my shop. That armor looks a lot heavier than what I can lift.” 

The Mandalorian looks down at the plates that cover almost every part of his body, “It’s made from beskar, it’s a metal from my home world.” 

“It’s beautiful,” you say, and you mean it. The metal is polished and rich looking, a light gray color that catches the light as he moves, “It’s a very beautiful armor.” 

“Do you want to hold a piece?” he asks, looking over at you again, or at least you think he’s looking at you, it’s hard to tell with the helmet. 

“Is that allowed?” you ask, “I don’t want you to break any rules in your religion.” 

“There is no rule against this,” he says, reaching up and taking off one of the shoulder pauldrons. It has the image of a dangerous looking animal that you don’t recognise, and as he hands it over, you see him reverently brush his fingers over it. Carefully you take it from his gloved hands, the metal warm to the touch, and just as heavy as it looks. 

“It’s warm!” you say surprised and he nods. 

“It holds my body heat easily, good for cold climates.” 

You don’t know why, maybe because you can’t see even a sliver of skin on the man, but the thought of holding something that’s been warmed by his body heat, makes you slightly aroused. He could look like anything underneath all that metal and cloth, but his voice, his rich, low voice through the helmet, and his sheer imposing presence, makes you almost subconsciously attracted to him. 

He comes around the counter and stands close as you turn the pauldron over in your hands, tracing the outline of the animal, feeling the warmth of his body. 

“What is this animal?” you ask, looking up at your own reflection in his visor, “I’ve never seen one like it before.” 

“It’s a mudhorn, it’s the mark of my clan.” He traces his fingers along the animal too, brushing against yours as you marvel at the intricate work. 

“Thank you,” you say, handing the pauldron back as the touch of his fingers against yours becomes too much to handle, “Thank you for letting me hold it.” 

“You’re welcome,” he says, his voice lower now that he’s standing next to you. You watch as he clicks the pauldron into place on his shoulder again. 

How do you flirt with a man whose face you can’t even see? you wonder as he turns his visor back on you. It seems like he holds you in place for a few seconds before you slowly have to turn yourself away from him and the intensity of his sightless gaze. 

“So you’ve never had dessert and you don’t know what any of this tastes like?” you say, giving your own cakes a critical look. 

“No,” comes the voice from the man beside you, “Maybe you can choose for me?”

“Hmm…that’s a big ask. Your first dessert has to be something really special, but maybe not too overwhelming, and not too sweet either because if you’re not used to it, then sugar can be a bit too much. And it has to have the right combination of textures too so that you get the full experience and then maybe it should be-” you cut yourself off and look up at the man who’s shifted his weight, leaning against the counter and looking at you with his head cocked to the side. “Sorry, I’m rambling, I went into full baker mode.” 

“No, go on, I enjoy hearing you analyze my first dessert experience,” he says, encouraging you to go on by putting his hand on your arm. The little touch makes you tremble slightly and you pray he doesn’t notice through the soft looking leather of his gloves. 

“Really?” you ask, “Because I have an idea but I’d have to bake something for you, are you in a hurry?” 

“No, I’m waiting for someone and they won’t be here until tomorrow,” he says, dropping his hand from your arm, “What would you make me?” 

“Do you mind if I keep it a surprise? Only, I want you to have the best possible first dessert experience” 

“I usually don’t like surprises but I’ll make an exception for dessert. And for you,” there’s a small chuckle from behind the helmet and it makes you smile. 

“I’m honored,” you say, “come into my kitchen, I think I have what I need for what I was thinking of making.” 

You sidestep him, making him turn sideways as you brush past him, and you don’t miss the way his hand comes up to the small of your back as he walks just behind you into the kitchen. 

Your kitchen is big enough but the metal clad man takes up a lot of space as you direct him to stand by your workbench. He looks around it as you start going through your stores. 

“I’ve never been inside a professional kitchen before,” he says, “I can see that you’re used to a lot of metal.” 

You glance around at all the stainless steel counters and shelves that line the walls, stacked high with stainless steel pans, bowls and baking trays, and then the big shiny door that leads into your walk-in fridge before it hits you.

“Did you just make a joke about your armor?” you snort. But the man behind the helmet remains motionless and soundless as the giggle dies in your throat, afraid that you’ve somehow offended him. You look at him, your cheeks heating up, and then he chuckles loudly. 

“Yes.” 

“Oh fuck off, you’re terrible,” you exhale in relief, but smiling again, “I thought I’d insulted your religion or something.” 

“No, jokes are allowed,” he says and you hear the mirth in his voice clearly this time, behind the visor he must be grinning widely. 

“No more bad jokes, or you won’t get my dessert,” you give him a mock scolding look but he just tilts his head sideways. 

“There’s another joke in that sentence,” he says, still a smile in his voice, “but I don’t want to miss out on your dessert.” 

The innuendo is heavy and you have to bite back your grin, there’s no doubting his flirting tone, and instead focus on pulling lemons, sugar and butter from your stores. 

“If you say so,” you huff and he chuckles, coming to stand next to you while you start prepping. 

“So can you tell me what you’re doing at least?” he asks, picking up one of the lemons and turning over in his hand. 

“I’m making you a pie, I already have the dough ready for the crust so I’m just going to roll it out and blind bake it before I make the filling,” you say, bringing out the rolling pin and the slab of pie dough you had in the fridge. 

“I’ve never had pie,” he replies, “but I’ve seen them sold.” 

“What do you eat?” you ask and you see him shrug, shifting a bit. 

“Just…well, mostly freeze dried stuff that I can just add water to when I travel,” he says, “bone broth is nice too.” He shrugs again and you shake your head. 

“You need to live a little, try some different food, life’s too short to live on freeze dried camping food and bone broth. Doesn’t your wife cook for you?” The last thing slips out without you thinking, your mouth racing ahead of your mind and you bite your tongue, apologizing again. 

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, or assume that you’re married, or that a wife should cook. Or that it would be a wife, just ignore me, I’m alone too much in the bakery,” you ramble, trying to catch up with yourself. 

Beside you the Mandalorian shifts and stands with his hip leaning against the workbench so that he’s looking directly at you, he’s crossed his arms and cocked his head and it shouldn’t be that sexy, you can’t even see him, but it’s making your heart rate speed up as your cheeks go warm again. 

“No, no wife,” he says, his voice somehow even lower than before, “no one to cook for me, and I wouldn’t expect my wife to cook for me either,” he shifts his weight, putting one hand down on the workbench, the other on his hip, “But it would be a wife.”

You refuse to look at him, it won’t give you anything, just that stupid shiny helmet. But you can hear the smirk in his voice, so you just nod your head. 

“Good to know,” you press out, very much focused on rolling the dough to a perfect circle which isn’t strictly necessary. 

“And you?” his asks, his low baritone vibrating the air around you as he seems to step even closer. His chest plate isn’t touching you but if you turn your head, your breath will fog on it. “Anyone to cook for you at home?” 

“Uhm…no,” you stutter, “just me.” 

If this was a normal man you’d expect to turn your head now and look at him and he’d ask if he could kiss you, or he’d lean in closer and just do it. But the helmet is in the way, how the hell is he so flirty with that damn helmet? He does know how to kiss, doesn’t he? 

“I’m ju-just going to put this in the oven,” you say, trimming the edges of the pie crust, leaving the scraps of dough on the bench. 

“Ok,” he says, still with a smile in his voice, watching as you line the pie with a sheet and then baking beads, before sliding it into the oven. 

“What’s next, the filling?” he asks and you nod. 

“Yeah, I’m going to zest and squeeze these lemons,” you pick up the one he’s left on the bench and show him how you get the zest off into a bowl. 

“Have you had lemons before?” you ask and he nods. 

“Yes, I think so, or something similar. But it was very sour,” he bends forward and looks closely at the zest you’ve mixed with some sugar. “It smells good though, do you often use them in pies?” 

“Yeah, and they’re amazing in anything baked, as long as you have enough sugar.” 

“I trust your skills as a baker,” he says and you smile at him. 

“Thanks, I think you’ll really like this.”

He stays still a beat as you turn back to the lemons, “I already do,” he says, a whisper, just loud enough to escape the helmet. For a second you’re not sure he meant for you to hear it, and you let your hands continue squeezing the lemons before giving him a quick glance. It tells you nothing, the man might as well be a statue. 

You start separating the eggs, letting the egg whites slip through your fingers, holding onto the yolks, until all five are neatly laying on the bottom of your mixing bowl. The silence is stretching between you and the man, still standing still, leaning slightly on the edge of the workbench. You can feel his eyes on you behind the helmet, watching as you stir together the filling, lemon juice, zest, sugar, corn starch, it all comes together. 

“Can I ask you something?” You look up at him, slowly stirring the cubes of butter into the lemon mixture. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to though, it’s kinda personal.” 

“Ok,” he says, cocking his head to the left. 

“How…h-have…h-ow do you kiss if you can’t take the helmet off?” 

He doesn’t move, the blank front of the visor steadily trained on you. 

“Nevermind, it was a stupid question, don’t answer that,” you mumble, dropping your gaze back to the filling. 

“No, it’s not a stupid question,” he says, and you feel the soft leather of his gloved hand under your chin, tilting it up, back to him. “There are…loopholes…in the creed. I’ve kissed someone, when they couldn’t see my face. But it requires a lot of trust.”

You’re staring at your own reflection in the visor, trying to discern where his eyes are. You wonder if he’s looking at your eyes or your lips, and you wonder what his lips look like. 

What they would feel like. 

“Does that answer your question?” he asks, that rich, warm baritone, distorted by whatever lets him speak through the helmet, makes your heart flutter, your breath catches in your throat. 

“Y-yes…thank you,” you stutter, “yes.” 

You bet he’s smiling at you again, as he lets go of your chin and you look back down at the filling. 

“I’m going to fill the pie now, and then make the meringue that goes on top.” 

“Ok,” he says, “I don’t know what that is but I bet it will be irresistible.” 

It makes you smile, at the filling, as it pours, golden and thick, into the pie crust. It settles into a smooth layer, ready for the last step and you place the pie to the side and reach for the egg whites. 

“Can I ask you a favor?” you ask and he nods. 

“Of course, what is it?” 

“The ancient looking mixer, up there, can you reach it?” 

He steps behind you, over to the shelf and effortlessly lifts the heavy old Husqvarna machine, it looks almost weightless in his hands. Those hands, inside the soft gloves, are big, almost dwarfing the mixer and the thought crosses your mind, to have those hands on you, wrapped around your waist, or grabbing your thighs, lifting you up as effortlessly as the machine, placing you on the bench, pushing your legs apart and- 

He carefully puts it next to you, and moves to stand on your other side. But his hand gently brushes over your back, just a small touch, but it makes you wish it lasted longer, and wasn’t so gentle.

The mixer is loud as you start it, whipping the egg whites into stiff peaks in just a few minutes.

“The trick,” you say, detaching the bowl, “is to whip them until you can hold the bowl upside down over your head and the meringue stays put.” You hold out the bowl to him with a grin, “Do you trust me?” 

He chuckles behind the helmet and takes the bowl from your hand, “I guess I do, but you’re polishing the beskar if this falls on me.” 

He carefully tips the bowl, holding it over himself, and the meringue stays put, not a drop falls on him and you give him a wide grin. 

“I passed the test.” 

“You did. Pity, my armor could do with a clean,” he says, his voice serious, but you can hear the smirk in it  this time. 

“Cheeky,” you laugh, “clean your own armor, I’m making you pie.” 

You grab the bowl from him and start scoping out the thick meringue on top of the filling, creating swirls and peaks with your spoon.  “It just needs to set now,” you say, taking the pie, “Could you open the fridge door, please?” 

He takes a few long strides and works the handle, holding it open for you as you go inside and place the pie on a back shelf. 

“I have never seen so many cakes before,” he says, coming in behind you, looking at the shelves of cake bottoms that are defrosting in preparation for your weekend orders. 

The door behind you slips closed and the fridge is thrown into darkness. 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you that the door needs to be wedged open, the light broke in here and I haven’t gotten round to replacing it,” you say, fumbling towards the door with your hand on the shelves, “I’ll get it.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got night vision in my helmet,” he replies matter of factly, and you hear him walk to the door. 

“You have night vision in your helmet?” You’re not sure he’s joking or not but judging by how quickly he moves across the small space, he must be seeing something. 

“How does the handle work?” he asks as you hear the handle click and catch on something. 

“You just pull it against you and it should open,” you say, carefully walking towards the sound of his voice. 

“It’s not opening, it sounds as if the handle isn’t latching on correctly”. 

“What? No, the door has to open!” You say, panic creeping into your voice, “I can’t…try it again, it has to work!”

You bump into him and his arm comes out around your waist, “Careful, don’t hurt yourself,” he says, his voice suddenly very close to you, steady and soothing, and it calms you down a little. 

“Sorry, I’m- I’m not good with small places I can't get out of,” you mumble, holding onto his arm. 

“The handle isn’t working, but I promise you, I can very easily get us out of here, don’t be scared.” He must’ve let go of the handle because his other hand comes up to rest on your cheek, the gloved thumb caressing your face with smooth motions. “Don’t be scared, mesh’la,” he says, his voice soft. If you move you think you’ll bump your head against the metal of his helmet, so you close your eyes and focus on his hands. One on your back, the other on your cheek, you take a long steadying breath. 

“H-how can you get us out?” 

“I have tools for it, in my belt, don’t be scared, I’ll get us out in no time…but…” he trails off, a small hint of uncertainty suddenly in his tone. 

“I trust you,” he says, “and I want to kiss you.” 

“You’ll take your helmet off?” you ask and in response you hear a low chuckle from inside it. 

“Yes, it would be very difficult otherwise.” 

“You don’t know that, maybe I’m used to making out with metal,” you say, biting your lip, and you’re rewarded with laughter in the darkness. 

“Using my jokes against me, clever,” he smiles as his hands leave you. There’s a click, the soft hiss of air escaping, and you guess his helmet has come off. You feel him bend down, placing it on the ground next to him and standing up again. 

“Ca-can you take your gloves off too?” you ask.  “Yes,” comes his voice in the lightless room and it makes you inhale. Unfiltered it’s much richer, warmer, but somehow rougher, slipping around you, making you break out in goosebumps as you shiver, no voice has ever made you shiver before and now you want him to keep talking to you, to feel his voice in all your senses. It makes you lift your hands to find him in the darkness but he finds you first.  

The soft sound of leather hitting the floor is the next thing you hear before his warm fingertips brush across your shoulder, finding your neck and trailing up over your chin. 

“I’m as blind as you now,” he whispers, leaning closer, “tell me where your lips are.” 

“Here,” you whisper in reply, taking his hand and guiding it to your mouth. He traces his thumb over your bottom lip, then the top, and you feel his hot breath skim over your skin. 

His lips are soft, gentle, as he presses them against yours, a slight tickle of facial hair before he pulls away a fraction. 

“Touch me,” he mumbles, “please,” a pleading tone to his voice. 

“Where?” you ask, lifting your hands from your sides and searching for him, finding cold metal and a rough flight suit. 

“Everywhere, my face, my hair, please touch me.” 

He leans his face into your hand as you find his cheek, your other hand slipping around to the nape of his neck, the longer hair winding around your fingers. It’s messy and curly and so silky to the touch that you hum under your breath. 

“You're so soft,” you say and it feels like he shakes his head.  

“No, you are, can I kiss you again?” he whispers but you don’t reply, just find his lips with yours and he groans into your open mouth, your tongue coming out to taste his lips as he parts them, and you feel his tongue lick against yours. 

His kisses are slow, and you match his pace, moving in the same lazy way as him, his tongue exploring and tasting every part of yours. Soft hands have come up to hold you close to him, his fingers in your hair, not letting you move from where he needs you. And it feels like a need, his soft presses turning needy, a soft moan escaping you as he pulls you closer, your whole body pressed up against his hard metal exterior. The contrast makes you feel disembodied, your legs, stomach, chest resting against cool armor, your face, your hands touching, and being touched by warm skin, soft hair, his demanding tongue growing in confidence by the second as he groans under your touch. 

He suddenly takes hold of your waist, moving you without effort, pressing you against the door with his whole, tall frame. 

“Your kisses are…” he pants, “please, I don’t want to stop, I…I…can’t.” 

He’s mumbling between insistent kisses, his tongue dipping into your mouth, tasting, groaning as he needs more with every second that passes. And you would give it to him, you’re moaning into his mouth, pressing into him as eagerly as he’s pushing you up against the door. If he wants to fuck you on the floor of this fridge, you’d let him. His soft lips, rough hands, his heady groans, and when he finally gives in and grinds his hard cock into your hip, it makes you lose all sense of where you are, who you’re with. 

“Mesh’la,” he mutters, another kiss on your lips, “Tell me to stop, mesh’la, I can’t stop on my own.” His tongue slips between your lips again and you thread your fingers through his hair and hold him close, keeping him from pulling back again. 

“Don’t stop, keep kissing me,” you gasp, his thigh is between your legs, rubbing firm at your aching core. 

He growls, his hand coming down to grab hold of your thigh, lifting it up onto his hip, and the door flies open. With a shriek you feel yourself falling backwards, crashing towards the hard kitchen floor. But his arms catches you, you hear the loud clunk as his metal covered legs and arm hits the surface beneath you, the other arm secure around your waist.  “Don’t open your eyes,” he snaps, panic in his voice, and you squeeze your eyes shut, they almost flew open as he caught you.  “I won’t, they’re closed, they’re closed,” you pant, the air knocked out of you. 

“I’m going to put you down and then get my helmet, don’t move until I say so,” he says, still close, gently lowering you down to the floor. 

“Ok,” you nod, staying still. But you don’t hear him above you, and his arm is still at your side. When he does move his chest comes flat against your own, his nose brushing over your cheek, bumping into yours, and then his lips are on yours again. Soft, warm, pliant, his beard tickling you, open mouth and gentle tongue, tasting and exploring with a low hum in his chest. When he finally pulls away and pushes himself up, you feel the loss of his lips like an imprint on your own, your fingers come up and trace across them, touching where he just was. 

From the fridge you hear the click of his helmet being put in place and then his footsteps come back. 

“You can open your eyes again,” he says, “thank you for keeping them closed.” 

You blink your eyes open and look up at him, his face again hidden behind the visor, his expression unreadable. But his voice is soft and he holds out his hand to you, his gloves not on yet. You take it and he helps you to your feet, one arm around your waist as you find your balance again. Looking down at the hand holding yours, you trace your fingers along the thin white scars that crisscross the back of his tan skin. His hand is rugged, the pads of his fingertips rough and well used. It’s hard to imagine that these hands could touch you so softly in the dark. 

“I…I hope I didn’t ask too much,” he hesitates as you keep touching his hand, holding it between your own, “I never kissed anyone like that before.” 

“I liked it,” you mumble, looking up at his visor, his hand still between yours. “I’ve never kissed anyone like that before either. And I don’t even know what your name is.” 

“Din,” he says, his voice low, like he’s telling you something guarded, “My name is Din, but I don’t tell many people that.” 

“I won’t tell anyone,” you say and he nods, placing his hand on your cheek again.  “Thank you, mesh’la.” 

“I’ve never met anyone like you, Din,” you say, trying to find his eyes behind the black visor. 

“I don’t think there’s any of my kind on your world,” he says with a small chuckle and you frown.  “What do you mean, ‘your world’?” 

He shakes his head, “Don’t think about it, it doesn’t matter, I just want to try your dessert now, like you promised,” his hand slips down to yours and he takes it, tugging you back towards the fridge, “Is it done yet?” 

“Uuhm…yeah, I just need to torch the top a bit,” you say, confused, as he opens the fridge door again. 

“I’ll hold it open this time,” Din tilts his head down towards you as you pass him, his hand trailing over your hand as you let go of him. The pie jiggles slightly when you tap it, so you pick it up and carefully bring it to the workbench again. Din closes the fridge door behind you and follows you back. 

“I’ve never smelt anything like it,” he hums as you reach into your tools and pull out the small blow torch. 

“Just wait until you taste it,” you smile, turning on the gas and igniting the torch. Din’s hand flies up to grab at your arm as the flame comes out but stops as he realizes what you’re doing. 

“I have one of those too,” he chuckles, “But mine’s a bit bigger.” 

“If I’d known, I would’ve used yours,” you grin and he shakes his head. 

“It would’ve burnt down your kitchen, it's not really meant for this delicate work,” you can hear the smirk as he leans forward and looks on as you carefully caramelize the top of the meringue, painting the white swirls in toasty brown. 

“There, it’s done,” you say as you turn off the blow torch and put it aside, “you’re very first dessert, a lemon meringue pie.”

“I can’t wait to try it,” he replies as you take down two plates, spoons and your sharpest knife. 

“How do you want to eat it?” you ask, cutting a generous slice for him, bigger than you would serve to the customers. He looks at the pie for a few seconds and then cocks his head and looks at you.  “I trust you,” he says, the smile in his voice evident under the unreadable helmet, “we can sit back to back and you can at least hear my reaction.” 

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to do something you’re not comfortable with,” you hold out the plate to him and he lifts it up to eye level, looking closely at the bright yellow filling and white meringue on top. 

“I’m sure, I trust you. And I want you to be happy when you hear my reaction.” 

“I hope you like it then,” you laugh, “Or this is going to be very awkward.” 

“If it tastes only half as good as it smells, this will be the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” he takes your hand and pulls you down onto the floor, you begin to protest that you have chairs but he just shrugs and sits down, crossing his legs with his back against you. You sink down behind him, crossing your legs too.  “Lean against me, mesh’la,” he says, “and don’t turn around.” 

“I won’t, I promise,” you rush out as you hear a soft woosh of air from the helmet. 

“I know,” he replies, his voice unfiltered and rich again, a low baritone that seems to send a shiver down your spine. The spoon clinks on his plate and he seems to hesitate. 

“I just put my spoon in it?” he asks and it makes you smile. 

“Yes, just get some of everything, and tell me what you think.” 

You hear the rustle of his flight suit as he seems to move around a little, it’s almost as if he’s trying to figure out how to  tackle the slice on his plate. Eventually you hear the spoon scrap over the plate again as he cuts off a bite. 

You listen intently, wishing you could see his expression, as he silently tastes the pie.

“Maker…” he breathes out after a few seconds, the spoon clinking again against the plate and you hear him take another bite. 

“Maker….” his mouth full and the word is muffled, “this is…” the spoon scrapes over the plate and you hear him take one more mouthful. His head leans against yours as he tips it back, sighing deeply. 

“Maker…I’ve never tasted anything like this before,” he groans, “It’s fresh and rich and sweet, how have I never tasted something like this before?” 

“Because you’re a fool, obviously,” you laugh, taking a bite for yourself. You know this pie is good but Din’s reaction makes you feel giddy. Behind you, you hear him take another spoonful, humming as he savors the flavors. 

“I am a fool,” he says after swallowing down another bite, “this is like nothing else. I want to eat only this for the rest of my life.” 

“That might not be the healthiest choice,” you chuckle, “and wait until you try chocolate, that’s on a whole other level again.” 

“Thank you,” he says from behind you, his hand reaching back and finding your arm, “Thank you for making this, I’m grateful.” 

“No trouble, I like seeing how much you enjoy it, especially since you’ve never had dessert before, you strange man.” 

At that you hear him laugh, “I’m not that strange, just maybe on your world, mesh’la.” 

“What does that word mean?” you ask, “Mesh’la?” 

“I’ll tell you, if you give me more pie,” his voice is so cheeky it makes you laugh out loud.

“I’ve got you addicted it seems,” you reply and he chuckles behind you, “I’ll keep my eyes closed and you can take as much as you want, take the whole pie.” 

“I can’t do that,” he says as you feel him shift behind you, getting to his feet. 

“Of course you can, you should take it, I can make another.” 

“I would argue with you, but the pie is too good,” he sinks down behind you again and this time you hear his spoon scrape over the metal of the pie form. 

“Din?” you ask and he stiffens. 

“Yes?”

“Are you eating straight from the form?” 

“Is…Is that wrong?” 

“No,” you laugh, “just a very good review of my pie.” 

He chuckles again, relaxing against your back as he takes another mouthful. Together you sit in silence, eating the pie, cross legged on the floor of your kitchen. Yours is soon gone and you happily listen to your strange guest hum and moan as he all but seems to demolish the rest of the pie. Maybe you should tell him to pace himself, but he seems to be enjoying himself immensely. 

After a few more moments the pie form is placed on the floor and Din groans, “I’m so full, but I want to eat more.” 

“I should’ve told you to go slow,” you smile, “but just take whatever you didn’t finish with you.” 

“Hmm…I…I ate the whole thing,” he says sheepishly and you giggle. 

“You might feel a bit sick in a while, but don’t blame me. But I really love how much you loved it.” 

“I’ll come back for more pie whenever I can,” he says, finding your arm with his hand again, “Please keep your eyes closed.” 

“I’ll make sure to have it on the menu all the time then,” you smile, your eyes squeezed shut. 

Behind you, you feel him move and turn, his warm hand coming up to cup your face, a thumb sliding over your cheek. His lips are soft and gentle as he brushes them against yours, his tongue slipping out, your mouth opening. He tastes of sharp lemon, sugar and butter, and underneath, his own self. He lets himself linger for a few moments, his nose stroking over your cheek, before he pulls back, your eyes still firmly closed. The click of his helmet lets you know that he’s once more covered up and you open your eyes, slightly sad that he can’t let you see his face, you’d love to see what those soft lips look like. 

“I should go,” he says, a tinge of regret in his voice, “I have other things I need to see to before I leave.” He takes your hands and helps you stand, the remains of the pie forgotten on the floor as you follow him out to the front of the bakery. 

“This….was wizard…” he mumbles in a low voice, yet again standing by the door, “I’ve never…experienced something like this.” 

“Me either, Din,” you mumble, suddenly very sad that he’s leaving, “Promise that you’ll come back some day.” 

“I’ll try, but I can’t promise,” he says, his hand, gloved now, comes up to caress your cheek one last time. 

He turns and puts his hand on the handle and something hits you, “Wait, hang on, just wait there.” 

You rush back behind the counter and grab one of your bread bags and quickly put four croissants into it. 

“Here,” you say, holding it out to him as you get back to the door, “For the road, or whatever you’re doing.”

He takes it, cocking his head to look down at the bag before he looks up at you again, “You’re going to make my armor fit very tight.” “Hey, I didn’t tell you to eat the entire pie in one sitting,” you grin and from behind the helmet comes a low chuckle. 

“I still blame you for baking something far too irresistible.”

“Take care, Din, I hope I see you again sometime.” 

“Me too, mesh’la,” he says, giving you a nod and opening the front door. 

Part Three

If you want to try Din's Lemon Meringue Pie, here's the recipe I used!

[enchantedflameandflower]

Gavin Magary x reader!

Part 2

Karl Urban Masterlist

Summary: When you started working at the lumber mill, you couldn't help but instantly fall in lust with the strong, quiet younger brother. But you're determined to keep it professional, until one work trip suddenly changes it all.

Notes: I'm actually so anxious to post this story so if you can drop a like or have a kind word, it would mean the entire world! Thank you to @kus-babygirl for encouraging me to post! @shirley-girly @jynx15 @everchar-of-the-shire @scraftsku35

co-written with CheshireCatSmile

Warnings: none for this chapter but there will be smut, and tons of it!

notes: we have more than 22k words of this already written but it's an editing mess so I will be posting as I can get each part edited, let me know if you want tagged! Always lusting for Karl...

part 1

part 2

When Gavin pulls up to the curb in front of your apartment, he surprises you by going around to open your door for you before you're able to get out, and it makes your heart flutter happily.

"I like these quaint old buildings,” he says as you hop out of his truck. “I'm glad you were able to find a good apartment here." He walks beside you as you head up the path to your place and you realize you'd forgotten just how tall he is. Taking his hand out of the pocket of his jeans, he puts his fingers gently at the small of your back as you head up the steps to your door.

“I’m glad I found it too,” you smile, looking up at him. “I didn’t even have anywhere to stay for almost a month when I was between places. Just before you hired me.” You get your key out and unlock the door, letting you both in. “I’ll just change and pack super quick, it will only take a few minutes. Make yourself comfortable.”

Gavin follows you in, shutting the front door behind himself and walks around studying the photos and taking in the rather eclectic style you've managed to find and pull together from the second hand stores and occasional estate sales. You glance at him over your shoulder, just before you enter your room and you see him run his hand lightly over an old quilt folded over the back of the couch. "You've managed to turn this into a real home...it feels really warm and cozy,"  he calls out to you.

“Thank you,” you call back from your bedroom, a little taken aback by how interested he seems as you quickly finish changing and throw some extra warm clothes and necessities into your hiking backpack. He already let you know that he had all the other supplies and gear, food, sleeping bags and such, for two people so you didn’t need to worry about that. 

“It was important to me,” you continue, as you sling you bag over your shoulder and come out of your room, “to make it…feel comfortable. I’m kind of surprised you noticed that though,” you grin.

He studies you for a moment then returns your smile softly. "Contrary to popular opinion...I do have a softer side. Nowadays a little more I guess," he says with a slightly sad and wistful expression. He's quiet for a moment then shakes his head like he's pulling back from his thoughts. "Anyway...got everything you need?"

“Yep, all ready.” Even though it’s summer now, you know it will still get chilly at night and you made sure to pack a few extra layers. A picture comes to your mind unbidden of sitting by a fire with Gavin, just the two of you, and you wonder if he gets easily cold, or if he runs hot all the time like a cozy, muscled furnace… 

You don’t realize you’re staring until he turns and catches you in the act.

His hazel eyes twinkle and he gives you a wink before stepping out the door. He watches to make sure you lock up then tugs your pack up off your shoulder and tosses it into his truck in the back seat in case you have something you might need to grab on the drive. "Looks like the weather might hold for awhile but you never know this time of year. It's still early so we should make some headway.” He pauses giving you a soft smile again. “Thanks for coming on such short notice."

“Of course.” You climb into his truck and pull your seatbelt on as he slides into the driver’s seat.. “I’m happy too. I was a little bummed about being in the office alone all week and it’s been ages since I’ve been able to get out.” 

He starts to make his way into the hills and it feels so good to just look at the scenery, the tall evergreen trees, lining the highway. The sun is out now but there are clouds ahead of you, sitting on the tops of the mountains in the distance. “I grabbed an extra notebook too so I can document how the seedlings are growing. It will help to already have data when we need to renew that contract.”

"Great thinking,” he says, clearly pleased. “You've really studied up on the business. I have to say I'm impressed." He looks at you appreciatively, his eyes lingering a little longer than necessary. There's a warmth to their hazel depths you hadn't noticed before.

The appreciation and regard in his gaze makes you feel tingly and hopeful inside and it’s a feeling you haven’t felt in a long long time. Maybe never like this. 

“So what about you though?” you speak up after awhile of building up your courage, referring to your earlier conversation. “I’m surprised someone hasn’t snapped you up already. Good family, good job…”

Gavin glances over and grins at you, the kind that’s a bit mischievous and teasing. "Guess I'm just too much of a handful for a good woman to put up with." He winks and reaches over to squeeze your knee playfully.

“Oh is that it?” you laugh softly. “Their loss…” you murmur. But all you can think about is which parts of him you wouldn’t mind having a big handful of… You are embarrassingly sure your cheeks are turning bright pink right in front of him. And then right on cue…

"Uh-oh…” he hums, “you're blushin’. Makes me wonder what's running through that pretty little head of yours." Gavin gives a low chuckle when you turn even pinker but just then there's a little bit of a distant rumble and he leans toward the windshield, distracted, to look up at the sky then turns on the radio to search for a weather forecast.

"I think we can beat the weather,” he murmurs. “Next turn-off...the road might get a little bumpy on the way to the trail head."

“Ok,” you answer mildly. But on the inside what’s running through your head is probably not something you should be thinking about your boss, though he certainly didn’t seem to mind. You let your gaze travel to the horizon again and can see some the clouds far off have grown darker and heavier. “I hope the tent is water proof…just in case.”

"Yeah, it's treated with weather-proofing but it depends how heavy and how long a downpour we're exposed to. We shouldn't get the worst weather just yet I don't think. The tent can be a bit of a tight fit but that can be good if the temperature drops too low." He looks over at you with a mixture of emotions in his eyes that you can’t quite name, but intrigue you all the same. "I uh...hope you don't mind."

You study his eyes for a moment, there’s so much there to try and figure out, and against all your better judgment you want it. All of it. Snuggled up close in a tiny tent with this man? Right now you can’t think of anything better. “I don’t mind, I’d rather be warm and safe,” you give him a soft smile. “If you don’t mind?

"Not at all sweetheart...er...y/n,"  He clears his throat and returns his attention to the road. "I really do appreciate you taking the time to help me out with this." He runs a hand through his hair, mussing it up a bit.

“I appreciate you giving me a good job when I needed it most. I don’t know what I would’ve done…” you trail off. It’s hard to think about what could’ve happened to you if you hadn’t found this job right when you needed it most. 

You’re both quiet for a few minutes, but it’s comfortable and soon after he makes the turn on to the back road. You brace yourself for the little bumps along the way. When you can finally see the trail-head it's a relief after the bumping had gotten pretty bad. 

"That road really needs to be smoothed out...oh shit!!" he cries out as a deer suddenly bounds in front of the truck. He slams on the breaks and the truck fish tails out of control.

part 3