#custom waste drawer

[retaliationgraphics]

Kitchen in New York An illustration of a sizable transitional l-shaped eat-in kitchen with a dark wood floor and an island, shaker cabinets, white cabinets, a gray backsplash, and a stone slab backsplash.

[jennyjustbeatit]

Dining in New York Remodeling ideas for a sizable transitional l-shaped medium tone wood floor eat-in kitchen with a single-bowl sink, shaker cabinets, white cabinets, limestone countertops, gray backsplash, stone slab backsplash, stainless steel appliances, and an island.

[shagtective]

Philadelphia Kitchen Pantry

Inspiration for a mid-sized timeless carpeted kitchen pantry remodel with flat-panel cabinets, white cabinets and white backsplash

[fishmech]

noone needs a dictionary of a form that meaningfully can be said to be owned lol you can just pirate that shit

A hard zero for me.

[milkbobatyun]

fireworks and red packets

pairing: jingyuan x reader

genre: fluff

summary: once again, it's yanqing's favourite time of the year and also his 'payday' — chinese new year

word count: 1.2k

a/n: happy lunar/chinese new year to those who celebrate !! hope you guys received lots of red packets ! to those who dont celebrate, hope you have a good day (>ᴗ•) !

living in a household with jingyuan’s little aide meant that life was never a bore, especially in the morning of the annual chinese new year.

once again, you have woken up before jingyuan, gently hugged like a teddy bear. the sunshine smiles warmly upon you from the sheer curtains as birds twitter cheerily outside your windows. however, the peace does not last long.

distantly, you hear the patter of running footsteps from down the hall, a clear sign of trouble brewing, so naturally, you pretend to sleep, awaiting with baited breath to see what would happen.

the door to your bedroom is thrown open and jingyuan’s soft snores are rudely interrupted by a heavy weight launching himself towards the bed.

“general, general!” yanqing calls out, joy and excitement evident in his voice, “wake up! it’s the new year! time to pay up!”

peeking open one eye, you can’t help but let out a quiet laugh when you see yanqing, seated atop the dozing general and shaking him vigorously. his poor victim is grumbling and sleepy, trying to push yanqing off in his sleep.

mimi gently pads in behind yanqing, making a beeline for your side of the bed. she places two large paws on the bed as she pleads for pets with her eyes, which you oblige. the last thing you want to happen is for the huge lion to climb into bed as well.

after much grumbling from jingyuan and yanqing’s nonstop insistence to “get out of bed, lazy head!”, the general slowly reaches towards his bedside table and opens his drawer, taking out a thick hóngbāo.

delight lights up yanqing’s face as he receives the money. mission complete. time for the next one.

you knew you couldn’t watch such amusing entertainment for free, and indeed yanqing wanted you to pay the full fare. the two of you locked eyes, but before he could say anything you had beat him to it.

“young man,” your voice was stern, one eyebrow raised, giving him that look. yanqing knew it was fruitless arguing with you right now, especially since you held possession of his precious money. “go and get ready for breakfast. after that, i’ll give you your hóngbāo.”

with an obedient nod, yanqing agreed.

after breakfast, yanqing received his thick wad of hóngbāo money, along with a custom new outfit you had designed and hand sewn for him. not wanting to be left out, mimi pawed and pawed at your garments, begging for a little something for herself.

not immune to the adorable boba eyes she gave you, you rummaged through the pile of papers and files overflowing from your desk and retrieved the collar you had made for her, bright, festive red silk, embroidered with golden thread. however, all your work went to waste when the stunning collar disappeared under a puff of silver-white fur.

as per tradition, the four of you set foot out of the house, into the chilly air of xianzhou, to mingle with its citizens and partake in the festivities.

naturally, yanqing had a penchant for expensive and rare swords, so he spent a tiny a lot more than what he brought in his wallet.

as parents of the year, you and jingyuan watched with ill-suppressed amusement as yanqing panicked, patting himself down and searching to and fro, up and down for where his money could’ve gone (spoiler: he spent it all)

yanqing was in a pinch, a terrible moment of his life, the worst moment, in fact. he had hit rock bottom. with pleading puppy dog eyes, yanqing turns to the most reliable two adults on the xianzhou—his lovely parents. however, jingyuan only regards him with teasing golden eyes, finding pleasure and great entertainment in his panic. fortunately for him, you came swooping to the rescue.

without hesitation, you drew out an all too familiar wallet and withdrew a hefty amount of credits from within. jingyuan’s amber eyes scrutinised your every movement like a hawk. it was rare that you would be so generous with yanqing’s spending, normally you would’ve been adamantly putting your foot down and telling him he had enough swords, unless…

peering closely at the wallet in your hand, it seemed similar to the wallet he owned. the same colour, the same model, hell, even the same scratches from when he left it on a table and mimi thought it was a new toy and began sharpening her claws…

to reassure himself, jingyuan patted the pocket where he stored his precious wallet, but when his hand made solid contact against his own thigh and not the bulge of the wallet, his heart dropped into his stomach. shoot. he’d lost his wallet.

when he sheepishly dragged his eyes to meet yours, his mind was racing with the millions of reasons he was going to give as to discreetly retrace your steps. however, upon glancing at your mischievous grin, jingyuan’s mind came to the only possible conclusion.

good lord. you sneaky little minx. at some point during your walk, youh ad slipped your hand into his pocket and palmed his wallet. no wonder you were so generous with your spending today.

as the night drew to a close and the fireworks faded into the starry sky, the festivities began dying down, with all the families and their sleepy children heading home.

your family was no different. despite his conviction and bold statements, yanqing's head was beginning to nod, eyes weighed down by sleep.

cheerily, you volunteered to carry him home. panic flitted across jingyuan's face before being replaced by his signature smirk.

“darling,” he purred, tone sugary sweet. “are you sure? yanqing is quite heavy now and home is a long distance away.”

you shook your head adamantly. you'd known jingyuan for too long to know if he was being genuine. plus, the general who is always pushing his work onto others, being generous? unheard of. add on the fact that the same thing happened every year, you were definitely NOT giving in.

sure enough, you had made the right judgement. 

the locals struggled to hold back their laughter as they watch their dozing general and his family pass down the street. ahead, you carried a dozing yanqing in your arms, the sight enough to warm even the coldest of hearts. trailing a way behind you, was what appeared to be a cloud of levitating mimi with a pair of human legs.

contrary to popular belief, mimi was just a baby. she was tired from chasing behind yanqing and wanted to be carried. you were occupied, so the job naturally fell upon jingyuan.

thus, her ever loyal spare human was tasked with carrying her. kneeling in front of her, jingyuan spread his arms, bracing himself against her weight. his knees nearly buckled when mimi threw her heavy paws upon his shoulders. mentally encouraging himself, jingyuan stood up with shaky legs, trembling under the heavy lion. maybe he should lay off on the treats and give her a stricter diet.

when you turned to jingyuan, you came face to face with an innocent looking mimi, who blinked languidly at you in contentment while the spare human was currently being suffocated by her thick, silky fur. (though you doubt jingyuan was complaining, he always loved using her fur as a pillow)

life in the general's household was never a bore, especially when it came to the chinese new year.

footnotes:

1. the new clothing for yanqing—— in chinese tradition, parents usually give their children new clothes for the new year

2. how i imgained jingyuan would carry mimi, but on a MUCH larger scale ꉂꉂ(ᵔᗜᵔ*)

3. hóngbāo（红包）—— more often known as red packets/red pockets and often given to children, the red colour of the envelope symbolises good fortune in chinese and other east asian countries. they also symbolise good luck and wishes for the year ahead

taglist (open): @leehanscorydora, @pastelmitzuki

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobatyun 2025 / づ ♡

[gguk-n]

The Exception (Max Verstappen x Reader)

Summary- 4 times Max let y/n get away with whatever she wanted and 1 time he didn't.

I just have so much love for maxie and I wanna show it so it came out as this. Hope you like it!! I hope maxie is only loved tbh

Max was very young when he had moved to a Netherland. If someone asked him when it was, he'd probably never be able to tell. But he could tell you about the annoying neighbours he had growing up. Yes, he did spend most of his time karting and didn't have the time at home or in school like normal kids his age would but the fleeting moments spent at that house in Netherland left behind fond memories that he can look back and only because of a certain little girl with chubby cheeks and two identical braids on either side of her head who had made quite a place in his life. Jos wasn't very happy with Max wasting his time entertaining those kids but he couldn't do much when the children's father was a tall bulky man who could take Jos out in one punch, insisted on letting the kids play together. The tall man had 3 kids Max noticed when he had dinner at their place for the first time; the oldest being the girl who we mentioned before followed by 2 younger brothers who seemed to love karting. They asked Max so many questions about it that they got scolded by their mother for ruining dinner for everyone but Max thought was cute because the youngest couldn't even pronounce karting but had a lot to say. Every time he would spend time with his neighbours, it would always be with the 2 young boys who wanted to learn how to kart better and become like Max like the younger one put it. Even now it makes Max laugh reminiscing about those days. They never really made it professionally though.

2008

Max and the 2 boys were playing around when their older sister asked if they would like to join her for a session of afternoon tea with Mr Whale and Miss Teapot. The brothers made a face of disgust and ran away from her, dejected she turned around when Max agreed. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. She quickly dragged him into her room and had him sit next to Mr Longneck, the giraffe. An hour later Max was found in Y/N's room with two pigtails if you could call them that on the top of his head, a tiara and the prettiest necklace Y/N owned. Looking at himself in the mirror he couldn't help but laugh. Y/N on the contrary looked pleased with her handy work. She thanked him for being a good and compliant customer and to come back again if he ever wanted to look pretty. It wasn't easy to get Max to do what you wanted except he couldn't say no to her puppy eyes. She even gave him a drawing of him in his kart saying that it would bring him good luck since she couldn't be there and placed her favourite bracelet on his hand.

If Y/N was to ask him about the bracelet, Max would say he lost it as soon as she gave it to him, but deep down in the watch drawer of Max's Monaco apartment sat a brightly neon pink bracelet with Y/N’s initials.

2014

Y/N had started highschool and remained the annoying self Max had come to love. Her over the top demeanor and affection to screaming at the top of her lungs whenever she spotted Max never failed to make him smile. Having joined Formula one this year, meant Max was way to busy to be home but Y/N seemed to never forget to text him regularly. She would ask him to get autographs of other drivers or souvenirs from different countries. It was a regular race weekend when Y/N texted Max asking him to explain how the engine in a go kart worked. In a split second Max was on call with her asking "why do you need that?" to which she replied "I'm doing a project on that. I even made a small scale replica of your kart Look here!!!" She exclaimed. "I just need to shrink you and place you inside it" Y/N laughed. Max told her not to worry and that he would text her the details in a hour or so. Actually it took a couple hours and Y/N was starting to get agitated and called him back. Max replied with a almost done and smiled at her. He had literally written her entire report for her and sent it to review. Y/N almost screamed when she saw the assignment. She thanked Maxie for doing this for her and that she owed him her life. Max was just happy to be of help, he told himself more than he told her because who stays up till 5 in the morning on a race weekend doing someone else’s project.

He kept the small scale replica of his Kart on the mantle above the fireplace if anyone wanted to know what happened to the kart.

2018

Y/N was freshly 18, so getting drunk was the only thing on her agenda. On a night out, she was so drunk that no one could get her to move because she wanted her Maxie and would only leave with Maxie, she enunciated. Her friend was able to open up Y/N phone and thankfully find a Maxie in her favourite contacts. She called the number to be met with a groggy but worried voice. "Hi! This is Y/N's friend Kate speaking. Am I speaking with a....maxie?" she said tentatively. Max let out a sigh while rubbing his eyes, "Yes, this is Max speaking." "Can you come pick Y/N up?" She asked hesitantly followed by, "She won't leave with anyone but you apparently." Max was already out of bed and near the door when he said "I'll be there in 10, where are you guys at?" She sent him the location and waited for 'maxie'. Nothing could've prepared them for this. They had thought Maxie was a friend, a boyfriend maybe even a neighbour; they did not think Maxie was Max Verstappen, F1 driver for Redbull racing. He apologised for the inconvenience and crouched down to Y/N level who seemed to have realised that he was here. She cupped his cheeks and giggled while turning his head to the crowd of people standing, "Look, this is my Maxie." Hearing Y/N say my maxie made his heart beat faster then it should've, he admits but that girl had a tight hold on his heart and he couldn't really do much about it. She stood up and wrapped her arms around Max asking him to carry her since her legs felt like mush. Max gladly carried her back to his car, as he fastened her seat belt she asked him to take her back to his place since her parents would probably disown her if she come in drunk for the 6th time this week. Max looked shocked and asked her to stop drinking so much since it wasn't good for her. All Y/N could mumble was that the alcohol made the pain in her heart bearable. This broke Max's heart. Who would dare hurt his precious little angel, if he met that guy he was so dead, Max thought. Little did he know that guy was the one driving her back home.

Y/N was a nuisance when drunk, she reminded him of the little girl he had befriended when he moved here. She wouldn't listen to anything he asked her to do that night until he agreed to let her do make up on him which he would gladly agree to, real or not.

2022

Y/N had recently graduated and was looking for a place to stay. It was one of those nights after a fruitless apartment hunt Y/N facetimed Max. He looked very comfortable in his sim racing chair in his luxurious apartment in Monaco having moved recently. "Maxie" the younger girl sighed. "Meisje, what's the problem?" came a concerned voice. "I can't seem to find a decent apartment, I've been at it for months now." she said. Max offered to help her find the right place and Y/N started listing out all the things she wanted in her apartment which was sounding a lot like Max current apartment which was true, that was Y/N's dream apartment currently; after seeing it a couple months ago when she had visited him as a housewarming surprise and even held a party for him. "You can move to Monaco, the house you're looking for is here" Max said. After a long pause Y/N replied with a chuckle, "I don't make formula 1 money. I'm too broke to afford a house here. In Monaco, I'd have to sell my organs to afford a place there." As if it was the most obvious thing, Max offered her to stay at his place and look for a job here.

The allure of Monaco was too much and Y/N was able to thankfully find a job there so that she wouldn't be completely dependent on Max which he wouldn't have minded. Max never let her pay rent, he'd always tell her to cook good food and that was rent sorted.

2023

It was the night of the Abu Dhabi grand prix. Max had just won his third WDC so him and his friends decided to go out to celebrate, Y/N included. The night carried on as usual, Max not touching much of the alcohol since Y/N decided to down drinks like a thirsty person. She was now in the middle of the dance floor making herself familiar with Lando's crotch, much to Max's dismay. He made his way to her and led her away from Lando while she shouted at him to let her go. They were now stood in the quieter part of the club but you could still hear the music blasting. Y/N looked visibly annoyed at being taken away from the dance floor. "You are drunk, you'll regret it tomorrow." Max said. "That's for sober me to deal with. Drunk me just wants to forget about everything and having an eventful night with a guy would do just the trick." she said. Max winced at the words and held her arms so that she could steady herself. "I don't wanna feel like this," was this the alcohol giving her the confidence, "the guy I've been in love with for ages can't seem to see me as a woman. I've been trying for years now. If I walked out naked, I'm sure he wouldn't even be phased." she sounded dejected. "Any guy would want you, Meisje." Max whispered. "But not the one I do" she stepped closer, enough that their breaths mingled. The woman in front of him was driving Max mad, had she not been drunk he would've shown her how much any man would want her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes before saying, "He's so dumb, can't even see the woman in front of him." The statement felt oddly targeted. "You know, he's a 3 time world drivers champion and he doesn't even get that I love him so much." she said while looking into his eyes. "You're in love with me?" Max exclaimed. "I have been since the day you let me make pigtails on your hair but thanks for realising now." she replied sarcastically. "You're drunk, you don't know what your saying" Max replied. "Well, sober me would never tell you this but I love you Max Verstappen. So much that you make my heart beat faster and my chest swell when you look at me. I think about marrying you and having a family with you, but you think I'm joking." she declared. Max couldn't help but smiled, "Tell me all of this in the morning when you're sober so that I can tell you that I love you too schat and then I can finally kiss you." "You can kiss me now" Y/N made a kissy face and eagerly leaned in. Max shook his head and carried her back to the hotel room.

Y/N indeed remembered everything and the first thing she did even though she wreaked of alcohol was finally kiss those soft pink lips.

this is just brain rot at this point. hope you liked it

[bl6ks5wan]

“Keep you always with me”

The demon brothers like to always keep a trinket that reminds them of their beloved partner with them.

But what would it be?

Lucifer who probably has always an picture of you in his wallet (like some dad) so that no matter where he is or for how long you both are apart he can always see your bright smile. He’s nearly constantly stressed, may it be because of work, his brothers or something else, so the moment he’s alone and able to catch his breath he instantly takes out his wallet and the picture inside it. The avatar of prides fingers would softly trace over your features as his indifferent mask slips and lets his eyes be filled with a soft, loving look. He has many different pictures of you or with you so that he can switch them. (Probably has an drawer dedicated to gifts and pictures of you.)

Mammon who adores matching keychains (he of course wouldn’t actually admit how much he loves them.) Doesn’t matter if you or him are in a new place, if there happens to be keychains then they have to be bought ASAP. It’s like an tradition between you both at this point. If you happen to forget to buy some at your latest trip then he’s gonna brush it off. “Tsk. Why would I care? It’s just some stupid keychain.” Would be Mammons respond but you’d be able to see him sulking quite a lot for the remaining day. And despite the second oldest denial, he doesn’t have a pair of keys or even a trouser that don’t have a keychain hanging onto them.

Leviathan who got you both matching plushies of your favorite characters or ship before he later on made plushies of you both, so that you two can always have a mini version of each other wherever you go. Levi would also make a little shimeji of you. He’d poke the little figure and drag it around, smiling softly at its expressions, which he put a lot of time into to make them as similar as your real ones. If you ever happen to find out about the shimeji he’d get quite embarrassed but if you’d like one of him too then he’d gladly make one of himself for you.

Satan who loves to read the same book that you read at the time, no matter if he already read it or finds it uninteresting. Something about knowing that you both would sink into the same book -into the same world- bringing you close again despite the distance is making him feel comforted and warm. He’d also be the type to keep an small lock or necklace with an piece of your hair in it. Sometimes he’d taking the hair out and brush his fingers over it, careful not to lose some of it, as he can’t wait to be actually able to run his fingers through your hair again.

Asmodeus who already is all for matching clothes but he especially loves having matching accessories with you. Big reason for it being that he gets them extra customized for you both, making them more special and unique. He always makes sure that the accessories fits you and your taste but also would still match with his. Asmo also adores painting his nails in the color of your eyes, making sure the tone is as close to your eyes as possible. Sometimes he’d just space out as he stares at his finger nails, the color seeming to work like an spell on him but not as good as your eyes would do.

Beelzebub who has a stash of candy wrappers in all kind of places but especially his trousers. All these wrappers are from candies that you’ve given him, whenever it was from when he was hungry or simply cause you didn’t like the sweet but didn’t want to waste it. For everyone it would be insignificant -trash to say the least- but for Beel it’s a trinket of love. Such a small actions that came from the purest of your heart and held affection and care for him. So, sometimes when he’s hungry again the avatar of gluttony likes to take out one of these candy wrappers and stare at it. Feeling how his hunger leasend for a while, instead replaced with your warm, genuine love.

Belphegor who would have the same perfume as you or hell, even extra let someone make own that has your exact smell. He adores sleeping on your pillows or in general anything that got your scent on it. For Belphie it’s the sweetest and calmest smell to ever exist, softly wrapping around his like an blanket and pulling him into the nicest, deepest slumbers. So it’s for sure that whenever he’s away from HoL or you he’d have a small bottle of your scent in his pocket, ready to spray anything or anywhere he’s gonna sleep.

[fernandopiastri28]

stop to smell the flowers ❀ - oscar piastri

Oscar is so incredulously smitten for his girlfriend to the point he doesn't even know how to express it with words- so he does it through actions and gifts. ~ (self indulgent and SO short)

“Baby?” A soft echo of his voice vibrated through the eerily quiet apartment, not a single noise besides his shoes scuffling against the carpet. Oscar set down his bag on the kitchen counter, toeing his shoes off and kicking them to the side. 

He waited again for a response from his girlfriend- but to no avail. He raised his voice slightly higher this time, moving closer towards the shut door of their bedroom. Keeping his noise down, Oscar pressed down on the handle of the door, attempting to keep the screeching creak to a minimum so as to disturb her, or wake her if she was currently sleeping.

To his unsurprise, his girlfriend was curled up in bed, her head resting at the very bottom of her pillow. Her bottom lip was puffed out over the top one, lashes sweeping over the tops of her cheeks. The quiet whistle of breathing filled the room, cutting through the silence from a lack of a fan going in the background.

She had her arms wrapped around a teddy bear, pressed into her chest. It was a small fluffy koala, adorned in a custom made McLaren jersey, a black 81 printed on the back. She’d named it Oscar, the teddy she held close to her each night when he was away. 

The real Oscar was returning home to Australia and home to his girlfriend after the Miami grand prix, almost a whole month passing since he’d seen her last on the night after the Japanese grand prix, when he’d brought her to the airport to go back to Melbourne, then flying off to China himself.

Due to her being in her last year of university, her availability to go to every race- or even just most- was limited. She came when she could, but it was more often than not that she was at home, cheering him on from the comfort of her own bed or the couch. They'd gotten semi used to the unfortunately forced long distance relationship they now had, but it didn't make it any bit easier each time they had to part. At times, it felt as if each time he had to leave was just more difficult then the last.

She wasn’t expecting him to come back so soon, and nor did he. He fully thought his flight would be the following day and he got comfortable with the idea of a cosy night at the hotel- maybe a call to her and a movie. It wasn’t until Mark had offered the option for him to fly home just a mere four hours after the race ended- he didn’t waste a minute packing his suitcase back up and boarding the flight.

Oscar peeled back the covers on his side of the bed, making sure as to not disturb her in the process. He slid his shirt off over his head, opening up the closet door to find his favourite shirt. Even after a few minutes of searching both the hangers and the drawers without a sight of it, he looked over at his shoulder, smirking when he saw that it was the shirt his girlfriend had chosen for bed today.

Oscar settled for just a plain white top, his ‘OP’ logo imprinted over the left breast. He unbuttoned his blue jeans, allowing them to pool around his ankles until he stepped out, tossing them into the laundry basket. Now dressed in only his boxers and a far more comfortable shirt then the previous ever so itchy team polo shirt, he climbed into bed.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as he breathed in the sweet, floral shampoo that filled his senses. It was his favourite smell- it smelt of home. He nuzzled further into her neck, pressing a few chaste, open mouth kisses to her soft skin. 

Holding back from any serious marking, Oscar mouthed at her shoulder, dragging his tongue gently over the fabric on her shoulder, letting his teeth rub against it. “I missed you, beautiful,” He whispered, kissing up along her neck.

She whined, unconsciously twisting around in the bed to be facing toward him. He took the opportunity to press a few consecutive kisses to her lips, enough to settle the desperation for contact that bubbled hot in his stomach. 

Her eyes fluttered, looking as if they would open. “Hi princess,” He tucked some of her hair back behind her ear, nuzzling back into said spot to re-immerse himself in the flowery scent.

“Osccc,” Her voice was thick and groggy with sleep, her eyes open by mere slits in order to block out as much light as possible. “You’re back!” She mumbled with as much enthusiasm as possible while still being mostly asleep.

“Mhmm,” A grin splayed across his mouth, burying his face further into the crook of her neck. “You smell so good,” He kissed the junction of her  shoulder, leaving his lips there for a few more seconds.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d be back so soon? I would’ve stayed up,” She cupped his face in her hands, her fingers temperate against his chilly and rosy cheeks. Oscar gave a weak shrug, ignoring the question in lieu for kissing her more to warm himself up. 

“It’s okay- I like this,” Oscar mumbled against her bottom lip, kissing her again and again until his jaw physically ached. “I got you a present,”

She tilted her head back, her left hand still positioned on his jaw- her thumb rubbing over his cheek. “Oh really?” She whispered, giggling as he met her question with a dopey grin.

“In the kitchen,” He rolled away from her, stumbling awkwardly back out of the bed. “C’mon, I promise it’s worth getting out of bed for,” He reassured her when he saw the displeased and unconvinced look on her face.

Begrudgingly, she followed suit- stumbling out of the bedroom door while wiping sleep from her eyes. She clung to Oscar, wrapping both of her arms around one of his, as the bottom of her sweatpants dragged along the wooden floorboard.

“It’s like a welcome home present, but for you- not me,” He handed her a bouquet of an assortment of orange flowers- begonias, marigolds, tulips, poppies. Anything that matched the same papaya colour that she wore across her torso. 

Her heart pounded at the gesture, looking up at Oscar with the most fond expression. “Thank you, Oz,” She wrapped one of her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly as her other hand worked on holding the bundle of flowers. “Thank you so much, I love them,” She couldn’t help the smile that stretched from one ear to the other on her face, her body alight with elation.

“Of course, baby,” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, rubbing her back with the hand that held her just as tight as she was holding him. “I think you deserved it with how you’ve been working,” 

She scoffed slightly, looking up at him with an incredulous expression. “Me working hard? What about you, Mr ‘Four Podiums in Your Second Year in Formula one?’,” 

Oscar gave another mindless shrug, laughing at her comment, “What, like it’s hard?” He teased.

[tubatwo]

workaholic - kang taehyun

summary: doing soobin a favor leads to a night alone with your boss... who you just so happen to be crushing on

pairing: gn reader x kang taehyun

genre: fluff; 1.6k words

a/n: maybe in a dream world a boss would let you take all the hours you wanted LOL but let’s just pretend~

some would call you a workaholic, but you simply called it living. there was no such thing as “working too hard”. you liked having money, and you didn’t dislike your job. especially as long as you got to see a certain someone. a certain someone who may also play a teensy tiny part in the reason why you enjoy working so much.

maybe that certain someone was your boss.

who you definitely did not have a crush on.

nope…

the door to ‘kang cafe’ chimes as your coworker soobin walks in, halfway through the process of putting his apron on. “y/n! you’re here already?” he asks while opening a drawer that held all of the staff name tags and important keys. 

“yup,” you nod, “i’m working day shifts this week since i’m a little ahead on schoolwork.” you had been working your ass off teaching yourself the material since your professors proved themselves to be absolutely useless. going to class in the mornings only wasted your time and frustrated you further, so you decided to switch up your schedule a little. 

there’s a hint of disappointment and guilt in soobin’s eyes, his fingers still fumbling his name tag around, desperately trying to attach it to his apron. “I was gonna ask if you could cover my night shift tomorrow…” he whines slightly. “I can’t ask you to work a full day…”

“huh? you won’t be here?” you ask. soobin shakes his head before a shy, proud smile covers his face. “nope, I happen to have a very special date,” he responds before loudly groaning, “ah, this stupid thing!” you laugh at the sight of him still struggling to get his name tag on.

“here let me..” you reach over to help the clumsy boy while giving him a reassuring smile, “and don’t worry about coming in tomorrow, I was gonna take some extra hours anywa–”

your words are interrupted by the sound of the back room closing and footsteps approaching. you both look over to see your boss, taehyun, looking at the two of you with a startled face. the sight of you and soobin, close proximity, your hands laying on soobin’s chest. he quickly clears his throat before returning to his usual chill persona.

“okay one, sorry for interrupting whatever this is,”

“um, they were just fixing my na–”

“and two, y/n, what are you talking about?” he looks at you, a glint of confusion in his eyes as he completely ignores the boy next to you. 

your hands finally release from soobin’s nametag as you turn to fully face your boss, trying your absolute hardest not to scan his entire body. what was someone so attractive and close to your age even doing owning a coffee shop like this? I mean, you know he’s slightly older. graduated too. but shouldn’t he be the manager at a best buy or something? better yet, working a modeling job? 

stupid kang taehyun.

stupid kang taehyun and his stupid black tee that just so happens to be tightly clinging onto his–

“y/n?” taehyun snaps you out of your trance while soobin snickers to himself behind you, pretending to make himself busy with a random cup.

“huh?” you ask, completely dumbfounded and a little embarrassed. 

“why do you need more hours? you’re already scheduled every day this week.”

oh right. “oh, um, well you guys know me…” you start, “always working...” the chime of the door sounds again as a trio of customers walk in. taehyun gives soobin a look, signaling him to handle the small crowd as he grabs your hand to take you to the backroom. you don’t even have time to digest what’s happening or the dizziness that’s suddenly consuming you because taehyun immediately continues his light scolding.

“y/n, I know i’m your boss but i’m not a shitty one,” he says with a sad look, “I know you still have classes, so you don’t have to worry too hard about the cafe, okay?”

“no, I promise it’s okay! I don’t mind helping you, really.” you explain, quickly shaking your head, “it could be busy too and I know the feeling of having to handle it alone…” taehyun sighs at you, his eyes filled with an emotion you can’t really point out. at least not until his next words:

“ah, you’re too sweet to me, what am I gonna do with you?” 

your eyes widen, blinking quickly as you mentally remind yourself to scream into your pillow about this later. how do you even respond? why was he looking at you like that? maybe you’re overthinking. does he talk to soobin this way?! 

“um… g-give me a promotion?” you joke, trying to distract yourself from whatever just happened. 

…

“alright, get back to work.”

“are you absolutely positively sure you’re okay with taking my shift?” soobin asks for the hundredth time over the phone. 

“yes, soobin, now please go get ready before I punch you for making your date wait.” after a few more minutes of bickering (and lots of complaining from soobin’s end), you end the call. you guess you could say the angels were on your side since it was extremely quiet tonight. since there weren’t many customers, taehyun had excused himself to run a few errands. he told you to call him if a large crowd ever showed up. but they didn’t. only a few customers here and there. you spent most of your time scrolling through tiktok and seeing if there was anything you could restock. 

you start trying to remember if you restocked the toilet paper already before your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the door chime. you look up to see your boss, dressed in a different black tee, looser this time, and a pair of sweatpants. 

great. 

“taehyun? you’re back already?” you ask, trying your hardest to keep yourself composed. 

“mhm, I finished my errands a while ago, just went home to get into some comfortable clothes if that’s okay with you.”

“oh, no it’s okay!” you shake your head, “never thought i’d uh– see my boss in sweatpants but here we are.” taehyun lets out a light chuckle before joining you behind the front counter. he pulls a fancy notebook out of the drawer and begins writing inside. whatever it is, it’s probably business owner things since it looks quite important. 

“so, uh, do you know what was so important for soobin tonight?” he asks, eyes still locked on the paper.

“he’s on a date tonight~” you respond, slightly exaggerating your words in a teasing manner. taehyun’s hand freezes and his eyes immediately shoot up to look at you. “a date?” he questions. you nod, a bit confused at his reaction.

“but I thought you two…” he trails off while looking somewhere else. anywhere else but you. 

your eyes widen in disbelief. soobin? you? and soobin? I mean sure, the guy is handsome, but he was like an annoying brother more than anything. “huh?! no– no, me and soobin are just friends!” 

…

“ah, that’s a relief…”

you freeze. taehyun was a good-looking guy. you’ve witnessed customer after customer try to flirt with him multiple times but he usually didn’t go along with it. instead, he would give a blunt answer that would leave you snickering in the background. 

but with you, things were different. it started with small compliments on your performance, then your personality, then maybe one or two about how you did your hair that day. then it turned into long glances from afar and warm smiles. and now, it’s these comments that he keeps making. comments that are making you feel like you’re one more word away from exploding.

taehyun was silent for a while, taking a moment to find the right words. “actually, i’ve been meaning to tell you something, and I hope you don't mind me being honest.” turning to give your full attention to him, you nod and wait for him to continue.

“over time, i’ve come to realize that I really really like you, y/n. not just as my employee, but as a person too. you bring so much joy to this place, I can't help but feel drawn to you."

his words leave you in shock, your mouth gaped and your hands sweaty. you can’t even come up with anything to say, but he wasn’t finished yet. 

“and you work so hard. so hard to the point where it leaves me conflicted. because sometimes I wish you would just give yourself a break, but I also wake up every morning excited to see you again…” 

“i’m sorry if this is crossing the line, and I understand whatever decision you decide to make after this. I appreciate the relationship we had, no matter what happens."

you smile warmly, taking a few steps closer to taehyun, making him flustered in the process. you reach out to grab his hands and rub them with your thumb. ”I really really like you too, tae, you have no idea.” 

taehyun smiles widely at your confession and your nickname for him before hiding his face in your neck, letting out one of his famous cute noises. “oh? who knew my boss was such a softie?” you let out playfully. “don’t tell soobin.” he whispers, making you laugh. taehyun removes himself from your neck to cherish the sight of your smile, one of his hands reaching up to rest on your cheek.

“is this okay, darling?” 

“more than okay.”

you both lean in to finally press your lips together. the kiss is soft and sweet, filled with the unspoken words you two had been sharing through glances and gestures. as the kiss becomes deeper, your arms wrap around his neck loosely and his arms wrap around your waist to pull you even closer. the two of you are so wrapped up in each other that you don’t even hear the familiar chime of the door.

“guess who just had the worst date eve– OH MY GOD”

[captainlondonman]

HiViz MASSAGE

Alan  walked down the same street almost every day but today for some reason he saw a sign on a door. There was no shop front but obviously there was something on the floor above. It read

Mehmet Massage, Turkish massage for real men.

Alan had had a Turkish massage once and was so pummelled he could hardly move after but there was something about the fact it said for real men that caught his attention. Was he a real man. Well in some ways he had a good body, not powerful but at least people said he looked good. He was smooth skinned and blond with fair skin. God knows what made him do it but checking no one was watching him he rang the bell.

Through the speaker a deep gravelly voice commanded

‘Who is that, what you want?’

Alan replied ‘I see your sign and wonder if I could make a booking.’

‘Come on up.’

The buzzer released the door and Alan walked up the staircase into what was obviously a home . Standing at the top of the stairs was what looked like a giant of a man with thick black hair and an even thicker beard. He must have been at least 6’ 2” and well built, wearing a blue tracksuit zipped up to his neck.

‘You would like massage?’

‘You are new here so I thought I’d give it a try.’

‘Good you are my first customer.’

Alan quietly thought

‘Oh my God what have I let myself in for.’

‘What did you do before this,’ Alan inquired

‘I was a workie, a good workie but now I change and do not worry I am trained as a masseur. Come is and we start.’

There seemed no way Alan could turn around and leave.

‘Well it is only one time so not really a problem.’

‘So take your clothes off and let me see you. No need to worry we are both men. I seen it all as a workie.’

Alan stripped off to his underpants feeling very self conscious. Not knowing quite what to do.

‘You have very smooth body. Not really a true man for us Turkish. Almost young boy body with no hair.’

‘I know. I often wish I was more hairy with good chest hair. Even growing a beard for me is a waste of time.’

‘We Turkish men all have beards, sign of a real man. Also good hairy bodies.’

‘That would be good’, Alan replied sheepishly.

‘You come to right place. Come into my work room.’

Entering Alan could see it was set up as a massage room with  towels and the massage table in the middle of the room.

‘First I put cover over table.’ Opening a drawer Mehmet took out a large black rubber sheet and spread it out over the table letting it drape down the sides.

‘Do not be surprised. I use good oils so need to have sheet under you.’

Alan could smell the strong Arab Oud perfume in the room something he had always found quite a turn on.

‘So because of oils you need to take off your underwear. Full naked. Then you lie on your back on table.’

The last thing Alan wanted to do was show his cock to this macho Turk thinking it was too small and soft for such a man.

‘You got boy cock but not bad not much pube. Massage will do you good. Make you feel more like a man just as I say on door. You come to right place. So lie flat out on your back.

Now I get ready and give you some special Turkish tea.’

Alan lay on his back not knowing what to do and part of him still wanted to get up and go before the Turk came back but there was something when he said ‘make you like a man’ that sounded interesting and worth trying.

The door opened and Mehmet stood in front of Alan holding a small glass cup of tea. His eyes were out on stocks as the Turk was standing there naked apart from a pair of light blue speedos showing of his cock and balls and both were thick and heavy almost pulling the speedos down off his crotch. But it was his body. The man looked like a gorilla with thick black hair from the top of his head to his toes. His nipples were hidden is a forest of curly black hair and it reached up and over his shoulders down  his arms. His pubes were covered in even thicker and if possible blacker hair at least 2inches thick which broke up in a burst of hair under his speedos.

‘If I use oil I also need little clothes so I can get down on your body. Don’t worry. Perhaps you not used to hairy man working on.’

‘No.’

‘Well this I know you will like. Before we start you drink this good Turkish tea. It will make you feel calm and enjoy more. All us Turks drink this, so you too. I see you look at my body. You like?’

‘It’s amazing.’

‘You like a body like this?’

I would but just look at me, it’s never gonna happen’

‘You never know’

Alan having never drunk this type of tea before decided not to smell in case he did not like it but just to drink quickly. He could feel the liquid sliding down the back of his throat and as it moved down it almost felt like a warm treacle, the more it went down the warmer it became and he could feel it moving to every part of his body and even his mind started to become more cloudy.

‘This tea relax you, make you enjoy massage more. It make your skin feel tingling and warm and sensitive as I take my hands all over your body.. Do not fight my hands but accept and soon you will start to feel good, a real man. Do not worry if you have erection. I have seen many cocks hard before and it will mean you enjoy what I am going to do to you.’

Alan lying flat out on his back felt slightly numb but it was all pleasure. He found if difficult to keep his eyes open but he so wanted to experience what Mehmet was about to do. He could smell the rubber sheet and even just the fact of lying on black rubber had started to make his cock twitch but he could not care. Mehmet had said it was quite common for men to get hard during massage and all he worried about was his white cock with little in the way of pubes.

‘I start on your feet and work up. I will now pour some oil over your feet and up your legs and then let it soak in for a few minutes. Enjoy the warm oil and the smell. The smell of the oil will change a bit as it runs onto the rubber sheet but then it is even better and stronger the mix. The smell of the rubber will seem strong and toxic.’

The Turk started on Alan’s feet and he could feel the thick hands massaging  the oil between his toes and then around his ankles and up and down the length of his feet. It felt good but he was aware that his feet seemed bigger and longer, certainly his toes felt larger but perhaps that was just because of the pulling method the Turk was using. The hands then started to work their up Alan’s legs first  to the knees, lifting his legs so he could get his oily hands under. The Turks hands were firm as they rubbed the oil deep into his skin and then they moved up the leg to his groin.

Alan let out a small groan of pleasure as he could feel the oil go deep into his skin. Almost touching an erogenous zone. But something was changing. As the hands rubbed deep, the wide palms covering his legs so they began to feel thicker, more muscular  and most oddly it wasn’t just Mehmet’s hairy hands but his legs felt hairy and not just slightly but more than that. It was as if the more Mehmet rubbed the more hairs on his legs which were few now seemed massively curly. His thighs he could feel had expanded and now Mehmet could not get his hands around them , he needed both his hands to work the thickness.

‘My massage give you good manly legs now.’

‘They feel so big and full of muscle. It’s incredible the feeling you are giving me.’

‘I said I would make you feel like a real man. Now do not worry what I do next as I must massage around your crotch. I leave your cock alone but you will have a good sensation and I know you will be very soon erect. I see many men with boners so Ok for me. I pour new oil around this area.’

Alan felt the heat of the oil seep into his balls and cock. It was not just warm but it was erotic and much as though he was trying to keep his mind of Mehmet working in his private parts he could feel his cock getting  erect. Mehmet started working around his balls and up under his arse, pressing down into his hairless pubes but the more Mehmet pressed the more resistance he seemed to have and the smoothness started changing. He could feel Mehmet’s hands rubbing into wiry hair and not just thin areas of hair but what seemed a massive jungle that had sprouted around his balls. He could not see what was happening but he felt this change. The Turk pulled slightly at his balls and these balls were no longer the pea size but thick tennis balls . The firm movement of Mehmet’s hands around his cock had unleashed a massive erection but Alan thought he knew what his hard cock felt like but this was different it now felt like a thick baton and much longer as well as thicker. In fact it felt amazing and all because of a massage.

‘Now I pour oil on your chest. This will make you now feel good and you will almost start to feel a bit Turkish.’

Not knowing what he was saying Alan said ‘Well if it’s to be a bit like you then I am fine with that.’

‘Good that is what I expect to hear from you.’

Mehmet’s hands dove deep unpwards spreading them across the body and up to Alan’s tits. The more the hand spread across his body the more he felt his smooth skin change. At first it felt a bit like he had sandpaper on his chest but quickly that changed into curly hair not just in small areas but his whole chest seemed to grow a forest and a wide forest at that. Mehmet’s hands met some resistance as they came to his pecs which before had no definition but now he had firm boobs. As his hands defined the shape so the Turk gave a slight pinch to Alan’s tits.

‘All men need to have their tits squeezed when they have a massage. You like?’

‘I am sorry I have very sensitive nipples.’

‘That is good. Now you got good big nipples so I give extra rub.’

As he squeezed a little more so Alan groaned but not with pain, but pleasure.

‘Don’t do any more please as it is making me feel horny.’

‘I move on to face but I think soon you will be feeling very horny. It is what my massage does when men feel like real good Turkish men.’

‘But I am not Turkish though oddly I am feeling very hairy like you but the tea you gave me it still making my eyes a bit blurred.’

‘Now you let me do you face and I rub oil all around your face and hair.’

‘Do you need to do the hair?’ Alan asked meekly.

‘Oh yes but you will like when finished and you have good thick oily hair.’

The Turk let his hands roam over Alan’s face especially his cheeks and neck and as they massage so dark hair started sprouting not just a little 5 o’clock shadow but quickly it went longer and longer until half Alan’s face had a thick black 3” beard from his ears to the base of his neck where it met the forest of black body hair. His slim jawline had changed to a square with thick set neck and his lips were no longer the thin pink but a wider and more pronounced brown. Even his teeth which Mehmet had not touched were now white and gleaming. He looked more like a Turkish dervish

The Turk then massaged Alan’s head and the long thin fair hair changed to a short black thatch with low hairline .

‘You feel good/”

‘Yeah it’s amazing I feel like a different person.’

‘You feel like a real man?’

‘Christ so much so and so horny.’

‘Good now turn round and I do your back and start with your shoulders.’

Alan still feeling drowsy did as he was told and lay face down his stiff cock even more erect now, pressing hard against the rubber mat. He could not resist letting his cock slide slightly up and down the oily rubber.

Mehmet noticed

‘Most men like black rubber against their cock. I can see you do.’

‘Sorry but it feels so horny.’

‘Don’t get too horny just yet I have not finished you.’

Alan felt the oil being poured over his shoulders and back. As it started to run down his body he felt the Turks hands scoop it up and then firstly he massaged the shoulders working the oil deep into Alan’s shoulder blades. He felt his body start to respond and it was as if his shoulders were growing. They felt strong and muscular but not just that, the hair he had felt creeping over his body was now springing up all across his shoulders and as Mehmet worked downwards so the hair continued.  He wondered what on earth he was looking like, he joked to himself that he might be looking like a gorilla but if he could look more like Mehmet then he would be more than happy.

Mehmet took hold of Alan’s thick hairy legs and pulled him down the rubber sheet.

‘Put your legs on the floor and then bend your body over the table so I can finish the massage.’

Alan let his size 12 feet drop on to the floor and bent over the table the heavy erect cock pressed against the edge of the table.

Letting some oil onto his hands he started to spread it over his cheeks moving both sides up and down  and widening the gap to expose more of his hole. As Alan felt the Turk spread his cheeks so he felt once more hair sprouting over the area and not just across his arse but right into his hole

You have very good arse. Nice and big a real man’s arse.

As he said this Alan felt  a finger pressing against his hole but as it was lubed up with the oil  is sank inside his hole easily

‘I think you need a bit more than one finger’ and with that Mehmet let a second finger slide up and move around and then a third. By this time Alan was reacting and letting his arse move further up in the air.

‘My God I’ve never had anyone’s finger up my arse before but you have three and there seems room for more. Its incredible. Shit I really want more.’

Mehmet took his fingers out and let them slip around his speedos. His cock was bursting out of the Speedos they were too small to contain his 9” thick piece of meat. Letting his prick spring out  he took the last of the oil and greased up his shaft, letting his massive hands stroke his cock head and run it up and down the shaft pulling the skin back ready to fuck.

‘So you would like more than 3 fingers? Now you get much better. You get my cock going deep inside you to complete the massage. That’s it just lift your hairy arse up and be ready.’

As Alan lifted his arse, the Turk put one arm under him lifting his arse towards his cock. Alan suddenly felt the thick oily head of Mehmet’s prick against his hole.

‘I don’t know if I can take this.’

‘You are a real man now so shut up and be fucked by a real hairy Turk it’s what you want most.’

Mehmet let his cock slowly in until his head had fully entered. Alan let out a gasp of a mixture of slight pain, surprise at the size but also pleasure

‘Now feel how a good Turk fucks.’ With that he rammed his cock all the way up to the hilt.

‘Now your arse can take a good cock and mine is the best. You are oiled up and the massage was always going to end this way. You knew that. That is why you come to me. You like Turkish men. You stared at all my hair. It’s what you want. It is what you are getting.’

Mehmet continued to let his cock slide in and out at first slowly as he wanted to savour every time he rammed it in but Alan’s arse was just too good to be too slow and he knew Alan wanted it rough. He started to move in and out with increasing speed his breathing rising with every shove

‘It’s too late to go back you no longer the boy who entered here. Now you are a man and I fuck you to become a good Turk.’

‘Ready I come now’ and with a final push Mehmet rammed in releasing wad after wad of cum.

Alan could feel it surging through his body like a strong wave of heat. His blurry vision was clearing and he was no longer feeling the skinny white young man who had entered Mehmet’s room. He felt big, burly, heavy, and most of all hairy.

Mehmet slid his cock out and wipe away the surplus cum. With both hand he brought Alan to stand upright and set him in front of a mirror.

‘Now see the man you have become.’

No he was not a goirilla but standing staring back at him was the image of a mean looking hairy Turk, thick set 6’ 2” with dark skin massive shoulders huge pecs and the large brown nipples he had felt shortly before. His thighs seemed huge and in the centre was a 9” thick cut cock still erect and almost vertical with a line of precum running down from the tip, From top to toe there was thick black hair, his massive beard all black and curly, the hair spreading across his chest and up and over his shoulders, down his arms and even his hands looked almost black they were so hairy.

‘Now you say goodbye to Alan, you will forget who you were. Now you are Aslan, you are Turkish and we speak Turkish but you speak English only with a strong accent.’

As Mehmet said this so Alan’s head became clear, he was looking at Aslan in the mirror and he was Aslan, a hairy Turk and mate of Mehmet.

Mehmet turned and said in Turkish

‘So tell me your name.’

I’ts Aslan, Aslan, Aslan’

‘You and me we only talk in Turkish’

‘Of course brother’

‘But you cannot continue to have that big erect cock. I need to help you, so lie down on the massage table.’

Aslan lay out, his cock throbbing having seen how much of a man he now looked.

Mehmet got up on the table and said ‘I sit astride you so I can give a good Turkish blow job. I want you to tongue me deep into my hairy arse.’

And as he let his arse over Aslan’s head he let rip with a fart.

‘We Turks like the smell of each other so you can have the smell of my arse in your head as you tongue me.’

 Aslan felt the smell of the fart deep into his nostrils. It was not bad but he loved the hard smell of his friend. It fired him even more to have his tongue deep inside while Mehmet sucked him off.

As Mehmet lowered his arse so Aslan brought his hands up to widen the hairy cheeks , his hole opening up to be properly licked.

Mehmet groaned as he said

‘I love my hairy arse sitting on that thick beard of yours. I love our hairs mixing together. Now I suck you off.’

With his arse firmly into Alan’s beard, Mehmet let his mouth over Aslan’s big cock which was so stiff after his fuck and now feeling his mouth against Mehmet’s s open arse. Mehmet let his tongue lick gently around the cock head, at times letting it into the opening his saliva running down Alan’s shaft.

Briefly he took his mouth out

‘Lucky for you I got a big mouth and can take this dick of yours. You will feel the end nestling  into my beard just like my arse on your tongue.’

As Mehmet started to feel Aslan’s tongue enter his crack his arousal caused him to quickly lower his mouth down the entire length of Aslan’s cock.

Aslan felt Mehmet’s mouth fully down his thick shaft, his mouth rubbing in to his thick curly black pubes. Feeling his cock fully down Mehmet’s throat made his tongue move deeper into the arse crack savouring the taste wanting to eat inside the hole and still feeling the smell of the fart. Mehmet was pushing his arse further down , pressing hard against Aslan’s beard. The two hairy Turks had almost melted together both using their tongues to give each other pleasure, one licking as far up the arse hole as he could the other letting the saliva run up and down the shaft while his tongue searched out the precum oozing out of Aslan’s head. Both men were groaning with pleasure. Aslan whose cock had for so long been hard needed at last to shoot his load and with his tongue wedged into Mehmet hole he erupted load after load of thick creamy white cum into Mehmet’s throat, Mehmet trying to swallow as much as he could. But the feel of Aslan’s tongue inside him was too much for him to hold off and without any hand around his own cock he shot his load for the second time, his spunk shooting out over Aslan’s hairy chest the white cum in such contrast to the swathe of black chest hair

Mehmet got off the bench and smiled.

‘Shit man, what a good fucking Turk you are. I am proud of the real man you now are. Go and shower and when you come back I have your new clothes ready and a mission for you.’

As Aslan showered and saw the water running down his hairy body he was also proud of the man he now was. He could hardly remember but for him it was only important that now he was a Turk, a hairy Turk, and real man. When he came back into the room Mehmet handed him the clothes.

‘Get into tehse, these are my old Hiviz clothes that I used to wear and they will fit you. I haven’t washed them for ages so you will take my smell with you. First put on my dirty white socks, tehn the overall, it’s an all in one orange HiViz. When you button it up make sure you leave several buttons undone at the top so people see that black hairy chest of yours. That’s good. Christ its tight around your balls and cock and I see a nice heavy outline. Perfect for your mission.  Now the steel capped boots and you look the perfect Turkish workie. I want you to go out and find a man you think would be better as a Turk like us. There need to be more men like us, hairy, sexy and always ready for a fuck. If you find someone then the you will know what to do. Come back when done as we have unfinished sex to have together. Mehmet put his arms around Aslan and the two men kissed their beards rubbing together as their throats explored each other’s mouths.

‘Now go.’

Aslan knew what to do and walked down the road to a café where he knew all the workmen got their food. Sure enough as he entered they were all sitting at tables in full Hi Viz all a mix of sizes and shapes from the young, fit and good looking to the more overweight. But the look of them and the smell of their dirty HiViz made Aslan start to feel horny. All that dirty Hiviz in one place both yellow and orange and some still wearing their hard helmets. As he passed a table a guy put out his hand

‘You new here mate?’

‘Yes’

‘Are you looking for work?’

The guy was fit with a shaved head and bulky body, a good 6’ wearing a yellow T shirt showing off his muscled arms, a vest and yellow Hiviz trousers.

‘Yes I look. You know something?’

‘Sure am, I’m the manager of the building site around the corner and we are always looking for strong guys. You look strong and willing.’

Aslan could see the guy looking him over with his overall unbuttoned half way down his chest and his thick mat of hair bursting out. As Mehmet had said the overall was a bit tight around his cock and balls and now Aslan who was standing so his cock was directly in front of the managers face was carefully studying

‘Where are you from?’

‘Turkey.’

‘I thought so with all that dark hair of yours.’

‘We Turks are real men.’

‘So I can see.’ the manager said

‘My name’s Dave by the way. Why don’t you come to the office around 5 when the guys will have left site and we can take this further and work something out.’

‘Yes that would be good.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Aslan’

‘A bit like Alan with an S.’

‘Yes but no Alan, Aslan.’

‘Look forwards to seeing you later.’

As Dave stood up he cast a final look at Aslans’s crotch and then shook hands

‘Good strong hands to have their mate.’

‘I’m very strong like all Turks, you will see.’

‘Bye for now ‘and as Dave walked out the café he turned round to have one last look at Aslan.

Aslan now knew his mission from Mehmet

At 5pm Aslan stood in front of the portacabin and knocked loudly. He wanted Dave to know he strong he was I every way. As he waited to go in he unbuttoned his overall a little more so it was open almost to his navel.

‘Come on in.’

Dave was sitting behind his desk still in his HiViz, his sleeves rolled up.

‘Good to see you, Aslan, I hoped you would come.’

‘I want work so I come and you seem good guy. I know you want me here’

‘So you are Turkish>’

‘Yes good worker’

‘You have done this sort of building work before?’

‘I can do all building work. You try me and see.’

‘Maybe you can work alongside me and I can find out what are your strengths.’

‘Oh I am very strong.’

Dave smiled

‘I can see that looking at your body.’

‘I have good body.’

‘You certainly have and tell me are all Turks as hairy as you?’

‘Many, you like hairy body?’

‘Well sadly I haven’t much body hair but I do admire it and think perhaps it would have been good.’

‘Do not worry all things can happen.’

‘A bit late.’

‘Never too late.’

‘You have opened your overall a bit more since I saw you earlier.’

‘I am hot so better like this.’

‘You look hot.’

‘Yes hot and horny you all say.’

‘I’m not sure you say that.’

‘I think so Dave as I can see what your hand is doing under the desk.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You are stroking your cock and I think nice and hard now. Looking at me making you horny.

You see my cock now getting big thinking of you.’

Aslan’s cock was now almost fully erect pushing out in his Hi Viz forming a well defined lump down one leg.

‘Maybe I take out for you to see. You like that I think.’

‘Sure would.’

Aslan shoved his hairy hand into his overall giving his thick cock and massage before pulling it out and letting it spring upwards.

‘Christ that is some cock and Jesus what a jungle of hair you have.’

‘I think you like hairy men and big cock. I saw you look at my cock this morning. I wanted to rub against you. So you just look? I think you come here. Let me see your dick and then you can suck a horny Turk.’

Dave stood up at his desk and his cock  was ram hard jutting out of his HiViz trousers. His hand was stroking both cock and balls through his trousers.

‘You like feel of your cock in Hi Viz. me too. You have good British cock. Now take out and me see.’

Dave unzipped and forced his erect prick out, the head already gleaming with precum..

‘I see your lips wanting cock. Kneel and suck. Now I am boss, your Turkish boss it’s what you want and what you need.’

Dave knelt as instructed and took Aslan’s balls in his hand almost unable to hold due to their bulging size

‘Great bloody balls you got.’

‘Big balls, big cock. So start to lick me.’

Dave still holding the hairy balls let his mouth over Aslan’s cock head smothering it with his spit, working the spit into his cock crack. Aslan groaned with pleasure feeling the spit working it way down the crack. He then let his mouth open as wide as he could as he knew he needed every muscle to take the full width and length of Aslan’s prick.

‘You like sucking cock I can see. I’m not first big dick you have.’

Aslan took hold of Dave’s head and directed it further and further down his shaft. At first Dave thought he would gag but he was desperate to feel this great tool all the way down his throat. Making sure he produced enough spit he took the whole length until he could feel those black hairy pubes brushing against his face

‘Good man now in and out. I help with taking your head.’

Aslan forced Dave’s head up and down the shaft with increasing speed until suddenly he stopped and pulled his cock out of Dave’s mouth.

‘Now I ready for fuck. Stand up and turn round.’

‘Not sure mate if I can take that monster of yours.’

‘You will take, you will like. I am stronger than you so I force you if not. You want a Turk to rape you? Anyway you will get good surprise.’

Dave decided that having sucked the dick with all his spit down the shaft and he could take it. Besides he wanted that cock all the way up him .

Aslan put his hands around Dave and unzipped his HiViz pulling then down

‘Ah so you have no underwear on. You like to be ready for fucking. You were waiting for me. You have nice bum but no hair. We see.’

Aslan let a large gob of spit drop onto his cock and the taking his hands on to the cheeks he forced them wide so he could see his cock at the hole

‘First is sore but good sore and then you want all.’

As Aslan pushed his cock in so Dave winced and let out a small cry with pleasure pain but once in he started to move his arse back to take in the full length as quick as possible.

‘I knew you like Turkish cock. This is real man cock what you want . You like to be like a hairy Turk.’

With the cock all the way up his arse, and with Aslan starting to have his heavy hairy hands work on his dick Dave shouted

‘Shit, oh to be a Turk.’

‘Good man, I call you brother.’

‘Go on fuck me hard, brother, and wank me with those hands of yours.’

‘We cum together OK?’

The more Asland pushed his dick in and out the more his hands rubbed Dave’s cock. He could feel Dave’s cock throbbing with lust

‘Now I shoot up your arse.’

With one final push Dave felt a great stream of cum racing up his arse as his own cum spurted out over the desk in thick creamy wads.

This was no ordinary fuck as Dave could feel his body as if on fire, his blood seemed to be almost boiling and he felt dizzy.

As Aslan removed his arse and Dave stood up grabbing the table for support he could see his arms changing  his skin going a deep brown and dark thick hair was sprouting down the arms and across the hands. His shaved face when he put his hand up to check was now not even a stubble but a full beard so thick it almost covered his mouth. As he looked at his chest the hair was springing out the top of his T shirt and as he pulled up his Hiviz his legs he could hardly see or a forest of black hair. As he looked at his crotch he now saw  a thicker bigger cock nestled in thick black pubic hair.His head was still shaved but that as about the only think not different. He felt confused but it felt good to be hairy.

‘You like being hairy?’

‘It feels fucking great, brother, but my head feels odd. I am beginning to forget my own name.’

‘You are now Turkish man, real man,  hairy man and your name is Demir. What is your name?’

‘Demir.’

‘That is good brother. We Turks are all brothers. No one fucks like us and now you speak in Turkish OK?’

Replying in the language Demir said ‘Brother you make me a man.’

‘We are fuck buddies now.’

‘I fucking well hope so.’

Now we go back to Mehmet and we have night of fucking each other. You will like that’

You are right, I want to use this big Turkish cock of mine’

‘Do not worry you will and that cock and arse are bigger and hairier than before.’

‘Tomorrow we find someone for you to make one of us.’

‘There is a young guy on site I think I want.’

‘ Then you have him, a young horny hairy Turkish man. Good then that makes more to fuck.’

[tickettride]

I've just seen a face | II

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

pairing is johnny davis x f!reader

in which Johnny keeps his promise to find you again after that night, and takes you out on a date.

word count: 5,5k

warnings: 18+ (mdni), alcohol, mentions of a dead parent, cursing, sex magazines?

• read the first part here

In two days, you’d had time to return to your senses. Now perfectly sober, there was not a single reason why you should still be thinking of him. And yet, Johnny hadn’t left your mind once. You couldn’t stop thinking about him wearing that leather jacket and frowning at you for some reason. He’d seen you, noticed you among all those people, and you’d stared at his blurry frame like a creep, something unspoken tangling in your chest.

Although the kiss had felt like heaven, you weren’t naive. Johnny wouldn’t come and find you in this shitty town to see you again. That’s how it was. You’d resigned yourself to a life without anyone to kiss you in the morning a long time ago. The few men you'd gawked at parties or encountered by chance had blurred into the background of your memories, and you were certain you’d soon be the same for him.

At the end of the day, the store was quiet and peaceful with just a warm ray of light streaming onto the floor. Sitting behind the cash register, you were flipping through magazines left in the drawer, most of them about fashion and advice to fellow female readers. How to get men to like you? Why should you remove the hair on your arms? Take our quiz and find out which kind of man suits you.

Snorting at the ridiculous photographs, you focused on the clothes instead, tearing away the interesting pages that featured the prettiest top.

The young woman who’d just walked in left without a word, the sounds of the street reaching you for a second before wrapping you in silence again. You glanced at the clock, mentally counting how much time you had left. About thirty minutes. Twenty if no one came in when you cashed out.

You grabbed another magazine, biting at the side of your thumb while you barely looked at the cover and flipped through it, opening a random page to fill your mind with something not related to the pair of shoes facing you.

In front of you, a topless woman was straddling a man’s chest.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, eyes widening as you stared at the man dressed like a cop. Or was that a firefighter? And why was her chest so… naked? Was her hand really in his jeans?

“That fuckin’ pig,” you gasped, picturing James coughing that morning, a poor excuse to clock in early and get wasted on beers.

How many more magazines of this kind had he taken here to look at when there were no customers?

Still, you couldn’t help but look at the other photographs, all revealing and… erotic. At the top, a girl was leaning over a car, showing off her long legs. On the right, a man was kissing that same woman on the neck while she gazed at another man.

Did they really act this way in their everyday life? Did that woman lead the passionate life she gave the impression to be living? It was pathetic. And sort of exciting, if you thought about it. You’d be lucky to find a good man in this part of town, considering each one of them was either a pervert—there was the proof, right in front of you—or obsessed with riding. Either objectifying women or favoring their damn bikes. You didn’t get what they saw in those pictures, which was why you kept looking at them, studying them, even though it was dirty and clearly not addressed to someone like you. Really dirty.

It was a shame there were no pictures of bikers, though.

The door opened and your eyes flitted up to the entering customer, a wave of embarrassment blushing your cheeks until you realized who was standing there. Johnny was wearing that same jacket you’d fantasized about. Clearing your throat, you chucked the magazine, and it slid off the desk, falling down to the floor. He was there, very much real. Like the first time you saw him up close, you felt yourself wanting to drool like a cartoon character. Maybe it was because of that air of quiet authority surrounding him.

Breathless, all you could muster was a small, “Hi.”

The corners of his lips lifted up. “Hey.”

His eyes studied your face, and it dawned on you that it was the first time he was seeing you with your glasses. Hoping you looked okay, you adjusted them nervously, wishing for once you’d bothered with makeup.

“Am I interruptin’?”

“No,” you were quick to reply, brushing it off with a wave of a hand as you went to pick it up. “I was just about to close up.”

His eyes flew to the cover. “You a reader?”

“I don’t read sex magazines for fun if that’s what you’re wonderin’.”

“I ain’t wonderin’ anythin’.”

“Right,” you threw it away, thinking how desperately hot he was in the daylight. “It’s not even mine. It’s just—curiosity, y’know.”

“I know it, yeah.”

Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Meanwhile, he smirked with the friendliest expression you’d seen on his face since the last time you stood like this in that kitchen, inhaling the weed from the two men on the other side of the room. It might have influenced you just a bit, but the attraction was still very real.

“What are you doin’ here anyway?”

“Told ya I wanted to see ya again, didn’t I?” Johnny said, glancing over his shoulder as the door opened, prompting him to step forward.

You could study the planes of his face from much closer, also clearer, and your knees nearly buckled. You forgot about the woman standing there for a moment.

“I thought you’d forget about me, honestly,” you admitted.

Johnny shook his head, his eyes hot on yours. “You wanted me to?”

“No.”

Standing behind the counter seemed like a safer option against your raging nerves. So you did, and still, Johnny came closer and rested a hand on the surface, his pinky grazing yours despite the surface separating your bodies.

“You had a good day?” he asked in a low voice, drawing your attention away from his fingers.

Glad that he would ask, you gave him a sympathetic smile. “Yeah. Felt a bit long, to be honest.”

“I can send some of my men here when you’re bored,” he joked, dispersing the past embarrassment with his smile.

Chuckling, you glanced at the woman wandering around the store calmly. “Tell them they’re very welcome to come distract me.”

“I’ll take advantage of that first if you don’t mind.”

You swore that blush came back to your cheeks. “I don’t.”

“Come on a date with me tonight?”

“Don’t feel obliged just because I kissed you," you lowered your voice. "I think I drank a bit too much—”

“The beers, right? You said it wasn’t.”

Another laughter escaped you, and this time the woman looked your way. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he watched you, with a glint like yours had. Whatever it was, you were understanding something, and it seemed like he was, too.

“Okay, blame it on the beer. I had one,” your grin turned into a softer smile, almost bashful. “I mean it, though. I meant to apologize for the way I acted. That wasn't very classy of me."

“Nah,” Johnny shook his head, and by now it was clear that the woman was listening in on your conversation. “You ain’t got nothin’ to apologise for. I want to take you out.”

You nodded, offering another smile as the woman came up to you with a shoe box.

“Got everything you need?”

She hummed vaguely at you, throwing a look at Johnny beside her.

“You got taste,” you pulled the shoes out, giving them a quick once-over and placing them back carefully. “Gonna make everyone jealous.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” she finally cracked a small smile, still somehow wary of him as she handed the cash.

As though he would jump on her to get it. Trying to keep your seriousness and not laugh at the scene, you rang the shoes up and slid the box back to her with all the gentleness you could muster.

“Have a good one,” you beamed, aware of Johnny’s eyes on you.

“You too, hon,” she replied through a mumble, walking out of the store in complete silence.

You couldn’t help the amused expression that tugged at your lips. You’d heard about the club long before your friends were invited to their parties, and most of the older folks were used to spreading gossip about the bikers threatening people and getting into random fights in random places. None of it was a mystery to you, though you’d known since the first whispers that it was all bullshit. Call it naiveness, you just didn’t want to think so. Your father had met one of them once and had blabbered about his helpfulness for days. It was natural to trust his word against the world.

“What time you finish up?” Johnny broke off your thoughts, resting both hands on the counter so he could face you.

You didn’t think. Couldn’t think.

“Uh, now.”

“I’ll wait for you in the car.”

You were still trying to catch your breath while you watched him walk out, pulling something out of his pocket. It had all happened so fast. How were you supposed to keep your calm now?

Snatching a paper and a pen from the drawer, you scribbled a word for your boss to see the next day.

The magazines are James’. I didn’t know if you wanted me to burn them or shove them in his pig face. Had to close fifteen minutes early (family emergency). 12 13 customers today. See you Mondoy Monday.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

You barely had time to put the shoes back in their proper places, wipe down the counter, and lock the register. The trembling of your hands only intensified as you turned off the lights and made your way to the door, your jacket on your shoulders as you held your bag tightly with both hands. Sudden changes in plans always made you stress out for no reason. Had you known you’d go on a date with Johnny that evening, you'd have dressed better, or prepared some questions to ask him. Your mind raced from one frightening thought to another, and in no time you'd worked yourself into a fine state of agitation.

The sun basked down in the horizon as you made your way out to the car. Johnny wasn’t waiting for you in it, though. He was standing there with the passenger door opened, a cigarette stuck between his lips. The kind of attention that made the butterflies swarm in your stomach, though they felt more like birds by now.

It felt ridiculous to be so down for a man you’d only known for three hours one night. Maybe you just loved the attention he gave you, or you’d just been lacking a man’s touch for a long time now. Whatever it was, you wanted to spend more time getting to know him.

“Ride’s ready.”

So, so down.

You climbed in with a shaky exhale, watching him as he stubbed out his cigarette, rounded the car, and settled beside you. With the smell of warm leather entwined with his cologne, being alone in this closed space felt even more intimate than kissing him on a stranger’s grass.

“Am I underdressed?” you blurted nervously, looking down at your black pants and small heels. “I can change if you want.”

“You look perfect to me,” Johnny met your eyes with such conviction you blushed again, feeling your lips curve up and your heartbeat fasten at the compliment.

You clipped your seatbelt, smoothing out the fabric of your pants where it bunched. A small stain lay on the inside of your thigh, but it was barely visible.

When you looked up, Johnny was watching you. His gaze didn’t break from yours when he asked if you were okay.

“Um-mm.”

“Good. I hope you’re hungry.”

You almost laughed at that. Indeed, you were.

For the whole ride, Johnny asked questions about your job and looked genuinely interested in what made you bored. You learned he was a truck driver five days a week, and president of the Vandals the rest of the time.

His voice trailed off as he pulled onto a parking lot, shifting into park between two other cars.

The moment he held the door of the small restaurant open for you, he was approached by a lady in her sixties, wearing an apron around her slim waist. She looked overjoyed to see him. For a brief moment, you even wondered if she was his mother.

“Johnny-boy! About time you showed your face 'round here.”

“I was busy thinkin’ about ya, Mary.”

The woman burst into giggles like a little girl, resting a gentle hand over your forearm. “Get a table, you two. I’ll be 'round in a minute.”

She hurried over to a table of men wearing the Vandals' colors, who stared at you with half-smiles. Unsure of what to do, you turned back to your date and tried to joke.

“Did you forget to tell me about your marriage, Johnny?”

Leading you to a table with a hand on your lower back—just like he had done the night you met him—Johnny chuckled, not quite a laugh but more a rumble from deep in his chest.

“She knew my mother. Great friend of hers.”

You nodded, taking off your jacket and sitting at a small secluded table. He did the same, revealing the red shirt beneath that hugged his stomach.

“You’re not really married, are you?”

“I’m not.”

“No kids?”

“No kids.”

“Okay,” you wrung your hands under the table, vaguely aware that your heart skipped a beat at the way he looked at you. “I suppose that’s not the sort of question you ask on a first date, but since I’ve kissed you before askin’ anythin’, here we are.”

You let out an uncomfortable laugh, eyeing his lips.

“You know that wasn’t a bad thing, right?” he asked. “I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about ya since then. You must have used some kind of trick on me.”

Thoughts of how his lips felt pressed against yours filled your mind, and fire lighted up your cheeks in a second, just as the short woman sauntered over to your table. You both ordered fried chicken and changed the topic to something that wasn’t related to the kiss or the fact that you’d been dying to see each other again. It did nothing to calm your nerves though—even the most awkward conversation would have made you feel like this. You wished you could speak more, ask those questions people asked on dates, but listening to him talking was easier, and at least you were sure not to say anything stupid.

Johnny talked a lot. More than you’d have thought, actually. Listening to him while he took regular sips of his beer made you wonder how long all of this had been on his mind. You figured he talked to the men of the club regularly, but most of them had probably never heard about the normalcy of his days. He spoke about them to you, though. His days weren’t worthy of magazines, and he’d never had a girl long enough to start thinking about his future. No one home waiting for him to talk about his days away.

It didn’t matter how mundane and boring it was–you listened to anything he said with a gentle smile and regular chuckles when he tried a joke, making sure you were indeed laughing. The conversation flowed easily with him, and he made you feel more comfortable than you'd ever felt with a man you barely knew.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd felt so happy.

“I saw a bike slam into one of 'em, years ago. I swear I saw the guy flyin’. And…” he took a sip of his beer, his gaze lost in the past. “I went to check that the guy was okay. Someone had to bring his bike home, you see.”

Realizing you’d been staring and half-listening, the straw of your pop between your lips, you stopped sipping at your drink and snapped out of your thoughts upon hearing the story you’d heard about a dozen times before.

“He was in a bad shape.”

“When was that?” you asked.

“‘54. ‘55. Somethin’ like that.”

“You remember his name?”

His eyebrows furrowed as he thought about it, drumming his fingers on his glass for a moment. “Larry. Yeah, Larry, I think."

Larry. Your lips turned up at the name.

“I think that was my dad, yeah,” you let out a small chuckle, popping another fry into your mouth.

“Was it?”

You hummed in response. “He was so grateful. I swear he told me about that story a million times.”

“No damn way.”

“I swear,” you laughed, feeling how close his face was to yours. “He broke his knee and… and his arm, I reckon, and he stopped ridin’ afterward. I think I remember bein’ in my room the time his bike was taken home.”

With a pleasant, interested expression, Johnny nodded slowly. “I met your mother, and I didn’t even know you were upstairs.”

“That’s weird, isn't it?” you shook your head slightly, smiling. “I should have come and said hi.”

“Life’s funny like that,” Johnny agreed.

He may not have believed in fate, but you suddenly did. And you started to think you were fated to be with him, one way or another. None of this could have been pure chance.

“And that didn’t stop you from ridin’.”

“Nah,” he offered another of his gentle smiles. “The danger became temptin’.”

That uncomfortable weight flew off your abdomen with each soaring look. Knowing Johnny had met your father for a brief amount of time, and reminiscing your father’s words about a helpful guy in the club, you began telling Johnny more about his passing and the legacy he’d left behind. And when you were both finished eating, Johnny paid the check despite your insisting that you could pay. He took his hand off your back as he opened the door, the outside already dark as the woman greeted you goodbye, shouting at you to come back soon.

Stars blanketed the sky as you walked over to the car, the restaurant being the only source of light left. A few motorcycles idled beside the cars, and only one man stood there, a lit cigarette in hand, watching the others through the window.

“Thank you,” you moved your gaze back to Johnny. “That was really nice.”

“I wanna take ya on a date again, if ya want.”

“If I want?” you teased, shooting him a smile. “Yeah. I’d like that. It'd be nice.”

“Good.”

Johnny kissed the top of your head before opening the passenger door, which made you smile to yourself, wishing you could keep the warmth of his lips there a little longer.

On the drive back downtown, you both sat in companionable silence for some time, watching the road and the closed stores on each side. The headlights threw out their long beam of light, illuminating the house as you told Johnny to park behind your father’s car, which hadn’t moved in years.

Awkwardly, you rested your head against the headset and blew out a breath. You’d spent the day sitting behind the counter, then suddenly felt the most entertained and happy you’d been in years, and then… there would be nothing again. Just an endless wait until he’d show up again. It was almost too good to be true.

“Thank you again for tonight,” you said softly, wondering how you were supposed to tell him goodbye.

Just as the words left your mouth, Johnny kissed your cheek quickly before trailing his mouth down your neck, leaning over the middle console. He’d answered your hesitation.

You took a deep breath, trying to fill your lungs while your heart threatened to burst out of your chest. A huge smile overtook your face when he kissed you properly, slanting his mouth over yours again and again. You responded by clutching the back of his head, tightening your fingers in his hair. It was as dizzying as the last time, maybe even better.

“Wait,” you mumbled as you unclipped your seat belt too, able to curve your body toward him a bit better.

It wasn’t enough, though. Johnny helped you crawl halfway over the middle console as you held onto his shoulders, laughing at the awkwardness of it all.

You were obsessed by the feel of his tongue rubbing against yours, and the rough gentleness in the way he held you in his arms. Like his own precious thing.

“I thought I was gonna get home without one,” you mumbled against his mouth.

Shaking his head, Johnny cupped your jaw and stole another quick kiss. “I wouldn’t have let you go without tastin’ your lips again.”

Melting into him was an involuntary reflex, and so was the pathetic sigh that rose in your throat. And knowing your thighs were touching his… His breathing slowed with each kiss, while the windows steamed up a little more.

Those people in the magazines would never experience even half of what you were feeling in that moment.

Lost in his taste, you barely noticed the pathway lighting up. Sudden clarity gripped you when you pulled away for a second, twisting around to check your mother wasn’t watching at the front door. Relieved that she wasn't, you brought a trembling hand to his stubbled cheek.

“The first time almost made me cry, but the second time was a hell of a lot better."

His thumb skimmed over your pulse as he broke into a smile, a light frown adorning his features. “Wait until the third time.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah.”

Johnny looked serious, his eyes narrowing at you as though he was thinking of ways not to let you go just yet.

You nodded, looking down at your thighs on his and the way his thumb moved gently over your skin. That kind of connection with another person felt like a rare, one-time thing, and the thought that you might never experience it again was a terrifying one. The only thing that reassured you was that he'd found you once and remembered where you worked. Surely, he'd find you again.

“Do you think— I mean, are we going to try our luck?” you asked him, too weak to resist the doubts.

His eyes searched yours, something vulnerable dancing behind his expression. “Anythin’ you want. Anythin’. I love bein' with ya.”

With another smile, you nodded. “Let’s have another date, make out some more and we’ll talk more about it.”

“I fuckin’ agree,” Johnny’s thumbs moved to your cheeks, just beneath your glasses, before planting a possessive kiss on your lips. “So glad I met ya.”

“So am I,” you whispered back. “Thank you for trustin' me tonight with everything you said. And uh, for the ride as well.”

Johnny brushed it off with a small nod, like the reminder of everything he’d confessed made him self-conscious. But you wanted him to understand that his boring world was not to you—that nothing he said would make you wish to be somewhere else.

One last time—still unaware there would be millions more in the future—you leaned forward and kissed him, memorizing his smell and everything you’d dreamed of these past two days. His lips were so damn soft.

“See you on Friday, then,” you crawled back to your seat and grabbed your bag from between your feet.

The wind whooshed in as you opened the door, and you almost missed him asking, “What if I got other plans Friday?".

Leaning over so you could be eye-level with him, one hand on the door, you pretended to think for a second. “You won’t be.”

The corners of his lips tilted up as he watched you shut the door, walk in front of his car, and up the stairs to the front door with a slight sway of your hips. Even from a distance, you knew he was shaking his head at you, having the exact same thoughts as you were.

[cloudss-space]

Emo boy

( killer chat ) emo boy ronin x hot topic worker reader ... fluff ...

author note: personally, not my fav, but i did want to write something involving "emo boy ronin" so, this is my attempt on that. i hope that you all enjoy !! trigger warning: - slight none

You step into the bright fluorescent light of Hot Topic, the air thick with the scent of synthetic leather, stale incense, and overpriced vanilla-scented candles. The walls are covered in band posters, slashed denim jackets, and the eerie glow of neon skulls. The clock in the corner ticks, its hands crawling, reluctant to even whisper the passage of time.

The outside world seems to bleed into the space. You can hear the hum of the pavement through the glass door and feel the restless heat pressing against the window. But inside, there is nothing but this cocoon of plastic and metal. Customers come in droves, their faces as pale as ghosts. Each one is a shadow passing through, drawn by the allure of rebellion. They skim the shelves, their fingers brushing across black fabric and metal, never pausing long enough to care. No one stays long enough to see the rot beneath the surface, the decay festering in the corners.

You lean against the counter, staring intently at the skull rings and spiked chokers. There's a dread in the air, a silence that is too loud. The people pass by you like ghosts, nothing more than moving shapes that dissolve into the dark corners of this purgatory. You catch glimpses of their empty, hollow eyes, filled with the deadness that matches your own. They flicker and die as quickly as they ignite.

A shrill sound slices through the air. The register dings as yet another transaction is made, yet another meaningless purchase. You feel the weight of time wasted as you hold the small sliver of paper in your hand. Another moment lost. You shove it into the drawer, the metal clattering like a corpse hitting the floor.

A couple approaches the counter. The girl is wearing a tight T-shirt that shows off her arms, which hang limp by her sides. Her eyes are shadowed, her makeup smeared like ash from a dying fire. The boy beside her wears chains so heavy they could drag him into the underworld. They argue about which pair of boots would fit better, but you don't care. You want to scream at them, tell them how insignificant their choices are in the grand scheme of nothingness. But you don't. You watch them. Their breaths rise and fall like the dull thud of a drumbeat.

As they leave, you look at the clock. It hasn't moved. The seconds are frozen in place, refusing to shift. You are stuck in this place, trapped in a loop of tedious moments that stretch and stretch into infinity. The light flickers overhead, casting jagged shadows across the room like a sickening pulse. It makes you shiver. You want to scream. But you won't.

A shriek of feedback tears through the speakers. You flinch at the noise scraping against your mind, gnawing at the edges of your sanity. Another band. Another song. The lyrics are blood-soaked, dripping from the speakers like a warning you can't decipher. It's all noise, all hollow sound with no meaning. It fills the void, but only makes it worse.

Then, a pair of black boots clunk against the floor and your attention is drawn to them. Another customer. Another shadow. She picks at her fingernails, as if trying to find the truth in the cracks of her skin. She doesn't look at you, but you see her out of the corner of your eye. The drag of her steps, the subtle sway of her body, as though she's been hollowed out from the inside, searching for something she'll never find. You watch her. She disappears into the dark, leaving nothing behind but a whiff of her perfume—a cloying scent of decay.

The silence returns. It's a suffocating kind of quiet, the kind that's too thick to breathe in. You don't know how long it's been since anyone spoke. The store is empty, just one person in the corner, hunched over a display of wristbands. They move slowly, like a ghost in a dream, hands trailing over the leather, never touching anything. They're waiting for something to happen, something to break the silence. But nothing happens. Seconds tick by.

The overhead lights buzz again, like flies caught in a spider's web. You can hear your own breath in the hollow space, your pulse thrumming in your veins like a drum that refuses to slow down. You glance at the clock. There is no movement. The minutes are frozen in time, caught in the jaws of some endless, agonising moment. You wonder if the world outside still exists, or if it has crumbled to dust.

Your fingers curl into fists, but they shake. Your chest constricts as if the air itself is thickening, making it hard to breathe. You feel the weight of your own existence pressing down on you. This place, this job, is a prison, a cage built from nothing but endless hours of waiting for something that never comes. You could scream, you could tear at your skin, but it wouldn't matter. The walls will not move. The clock doesn't tick any faster.

The next customer enters, a young man with a lip piercing and a look of quiet despair. His eyes are dark, filled with something you can't name, and for a moment, you wonder if he sees it too. You carry the same emptiness, the same weight of something unspoken. But he moves on, picks up a t-shirt and shuffles to the counter, and you are certain he can feel the same hollow echo you do. If he knows this place is just a veil, a mask over the abyss.

He hands you the shirt, and you take it, instantly recognising the fabric as ash. It's black, as expected. It's always black. You ring it up, the register making its empty noise. The drawer opens with a squeal, and you think about how long it's been since you've felt anything other than numb.

When he leaves, the door chimes as he departs, and you watch the last of the light fade. The shadows grow, stretching across the room and swallowing the colour whole. The walls close in on you, but you stay still, frozen in place, as the silence grows louder and louder until it engulfs you.

The clock ticks once more. Another second gone. Another moment slipping through your fingers. You are waiting for something to change, or you have forgotten what it feels like to move. The day stretches on. The world beyond the glass remains a distant memory.

Time. It is a slow, dripping wound that won't heal.

The door chimes again, a soft clang, barely a whisper in the dense air. A boy steps in. He's the kind of boy who doesn't walk, he drifts—like a shadow made flesh, fading in and out of existence with each step he takes. His skinny jeans hug his legs so tightly they almost appear to be painted on, dark denim faded by too many hours spent in the same empty room. His boots click with a muted tap against the floor, the only sound in the suffocating stillness.

His hair falls over his face like a dark curtain, long and tangled, reaching down to his shoulders. It's the kind of hair that's perpetually windblown, yet static, as though he's caught in some endless storm of his own making. The bangs fall in uneven lines, framing his face in a way that looks deliberate, as though he's hiding from the world—or maybe just hiding from himself.

The shirt he wears is an MCR tee. The black fabric bears the logo like a badge of honour, like a secret carved into his skin. You've seen that shirt a thousand times, but it looks different on him. He wears it like a shroud, like it shields him from the world that doesn't care. The world has already eaten him alive and left nothing but the remnants of someone who used to be. His eyes are sunken, deep shadows under them, like he hasn't slept in weeks, hasn't bothered to wipe away the tracks of whatever sadness or rage he carries.

The dark streaks of make-up on his face blend into his pale skin. The way it clings to him is almost ritualistic, as though he's painted the darkness on, drawn it across his features to summon something, to become something else—something dead. It's wrong, but it's perfect. You feel an inexplicable pull toward him, an attraction you can't quite place. It's not the makeup, the dark circles or the clothes. It's the way he moves—or doesn't move. He's there, but not there. His existence seems to fade from the edges of reality.

He stares at the shelves. His gaze is unfocused. He sees something beyond the merchandise. His hands twitch at his sides, fingers brushing the air as though reaching for something just out of reach. You are certain that he is not aware of you watching him, nor does he notice the world around him. He is living in his own private hell, removed from everything, just like you.

Your pulse accelerates, a strange heat spreading through your body. You can't stop looking at him. His stillness, the haunted way he walks, the dark aura that seems to swirl around him like a storm cloud, draws you in. It's a magnetic pull. It's not just about his looks. It's darker, it's dangerous, like the gravity of a black hole. You can feel it in the air, suffocating, drawing everything toward him, sucking you in.

He picks up a chain from a nearby rack, turning it in his fingers. The links of the chain glint in the light, but he is not at all delicate. The way he handles it, casually, as if it's an afterthought, only makes him more intriguing. His lips are set in a thin, tired line, not quite a frown, not quite a smirk, but both, and it's clear he's seen too many broken things, too many things left unsaid.

The air thickens around him. You could almost reach out and touch the space where he stands, where everything about him feels alive, but it doesn't feel like he's alive—not really. His pulse is distant, like it's coming from far away, a heartbeat that's too slow, too deep, too alien to be real. You think you see him shiver, but it's gone before you can confirm it. He doesn't shiver. He doesn't feel.

But he's beautiful. There's a tragedy in him, an ache in your chest you didn't feel before he walked in. He's broken in a way that draws you in, a puzzle that you don't want to solve but can't look away from. You recognise his pain, even without the details. The emptiness in him mirrors the emptiness in you, a dark reflection of the same hollow space that never quite fills.

He turns toward the counter and sees you. His eyes meet yours—sunken and dark, like the bruises of a life lived too close to the edge. There's a fleeting glimpse of recognition in his eyes, but it's fleeting and he quickly looks away. His lips part slightly, and for a heartbeat, you're sure he's going to say something.

But he doesn't say anything. He just looks at you, his gaze heavy, weighing you down like a thousand unspoken thoughts pressing against your chest. His eyes are deep pools of sorrow, but they still find a way to pierce you, to draw you closer. When he doesn't speak, you feel a pang of disappointment. But then, you realise, maybe it's better this way. The silence between you is not just a lack of words, but a shared understanding, a communication without words.

He walks up to the counter, slowly, like he's been frozen in time and is only just starting to thaw. You remain still. You are trapped in the moment, caught in the way the air seems to bend around him. His hand reaches for his wallet, pulling it out with a fluid motion, the dark leather slipping through his fingers like the night itself. You feel his presence all around you, suffocating and intoxicating, like a perfume you can't quite name.

The register dings again, but this time the noise barely cuts through the fog between you. You ring up his purchase mechanically, your hands moving on their own, but your mind is elsewhere—lost in the depth of his eyes, in the hollow of his expression, in the way he stands there, silent, waiting for something that doesn't come.

When he finally leaves, the air itself seems to shift, the space around you hollowed out in his absence. The door chimes again as he vanishes into the world, slipping away like a ghost that was never really there. You're left standing at the counter, your heart thudding in your chest, and you wonder if you'll ever see him again, or if he was just a figment of your own aching mind.

The clock ticks on, ignoring him. But you're not the same. Something inside you has shifted. The air feels heavier, charged with something you can't name. And for the first time today, you realise you've been holding your breath.

The next day is a long, dark road. The store feels the same: suffocating in its fluorescent glow, the walls closing in on you. The silence settles like dust in the corners, the shelves full of meaningless trinkets that mock your restless mind. But even in this heavy, stagnant air, there's something different.

You feel a pull, a hum in the air that you can't quite name. Your thoughts drift back to him, that boy with the long hair and the hollow stare, his presence like a spectre that lingers in the edges of your mind. You are certain that he will return today, that that strange pull will bring him back through the door, or that he was just a dream—one you couldn't wake from.

And then, the door chimes again.

It's soft at first, like a whisper in the stillness, but it's unmistakable. You turn your head, your breath catching in your chest. There he is. He's the same boy, stepping into the store like he belongs there, like he's made of the same air and shadows. His long black hair hangs over his face, but today, there's a subtle difference. His eyes aren't hidden behind his bangs. His eyes are dark and sunken, but there's something else in them now. A flicker. A spark. It's as if you can see recognition in them.

He doesn't look around like last time. He's more focused now, his gaze sweeping over the shelves with a slow intensity, as though he's searching for something only he understands. His steps are quiet, deliberate, as if he's trying to blend into the shadows, yet you can't help but notice him. He stands out in this sea of monotony, in this place full of faces that barely register.

His eyes meet yours, and the world stops for a moment. Your breath catches in your throat, the air thickening between you. His gaze is no longer hollow or distant, but searching. It's as if he's found what he was looking for.

He strides purposefully towards the counter, his steps confident and determined. He's different today. More alive. But still carrying that same weight of something unsaid. His face is pale and his dark circles under his eyes are still there, but today he has more to him. It's as if a slow-burning ember lies behind the darkness, its soft glow almost visible on closer inspection. He doesn't speak immediately, but you can feel the words hanging in the air between you.

You find yourself waiting, your heart pounding a little harder than it should. There's no reason for it. Nothing has changed, except the way your pulse quickens at the sight of him. You tell yourself to breathe, to stay focused, but your mind won't stop racing.

And then, he speaks.

It's just one word, but it cuts through the air, slicing through the tension that has built between you. "Hey," he says, his voice low and almost drowned out by the silence of the store. But his voice is there. It's real. When he says it, you can feel the weight of his gaze shift, settling on you like a weight on your chest.

"Hey," you say, your voice barely louder than his. There's a pause, and then you wait, ready for him to say something more—to ask you something, or maybe even speak the words that have been hanging between you since yesterday. But he just stands there. His hands are still at his sides, fingers curling slightly as if fighting the urge to reach out, to touch something, to feel something.

The silence that follows is strangely comforting. It's not awkward, not in the usual sense of silence. It's as if you and he are both suspended in the same moment, trapped in a world that doesn't make sense, where time moves like molasses, yet here, with him, it seems to have stopped altogether.

He picks something off the rack – a black hoodie this time – and runs his fingers over the soft fabric. His eyes never leave the clothing, but you can see the faintest trace of something darker behind them. It's as if he's trying to bury himself in the fabric, to lose himself in the soft, dark embrace of it, like it'll shield him from the world outside.

You want to ask him what brought him back, but you don't. The question feels too heavy, too intrusive. Instead, you watch him, watching the way he moves with such quiet precision, his body almost too still, like he's afraid of being seen. There's a sadness in him, one you know you could get lost in if you're not careful. You want to fall into that darkness with him, to reach out and pull him closer to you, but you stay silent.

He places the hoodie on the counter and you ring it up without a word, the soft hum of the register filling the silence. Your fingers briefly brush against his as you hand him the receipt, and for a second, it's like the world shifts just slightly, just enough for you to feel something electric pass between you. You don't know if he felt it, but you did. The tension in the air grows thicker, heavier, but you don't mind it. It feels right.

He doesn't say goodbye. He doesn't need to. He just turns, his movements slow and deliberate, and walks out the door, leaving behind that same stillness, that same lingering feeling that refuses to leave. The door chime echoes in your mind long after he's gone, and you find yourself standing there, staring at the spot where he was.

He will return. When he returns, it will be different. Something is changing, something you can't control.

The days blend into each other, indistinguishable from one another, yet every time the door chimes and he steps in, everything sharpens, everything changes. He's back again, and again, and again—like a restless ghost that can't quite leave, like he's tethered to this place, or maybe to you. The days blur together in this suffocating haze, but his presence makes every second stretch out, bending the hours into something that only exists in the quiet space between you.

Each time he walks through the door, it's like a spark igniting in the air. His eyes meet yours with that same haunting stare, but this time, it's less distant, less lost. There's more now, something unspoken but understood, like an unbroken thread weaving between the two of you. The pull grows stronger with each visit, a gravitational force you can't resist.

He starts off barely saying a word, just the softest "hey" that floats through the air like a secret. But with each encounter, the silence stretches just a little less. He starts to linger, standing by the shelves for a bit longer, as if giving you time to take him in, to get used to the way he moves, the way he seems to blur the line between presence and absence.

Then, one day, it happens. He's standing near the band tees again, running his fingers over the fabric as if trying to decide which piece of darkness he'll drape over himself today. You watch him, your breath catching as you notice the subtle shifts in his demeanour—the way his shoulders relax just a fraction when he notices you looking, how his gaze lingers for a fraction longer than usual.

"Do you think… they'll ever come back?" His voice breaks through the silence, low and almost tentative, as if he's unsure whether you'll answer or not. It's a simple question, but the weight behind it makes your chest tighten. They — the bands, the ones whose shirts are hanging on the racks, their names etched in faded ink on fabric that's been worn down by years of rebellion.

You blink, not quite prepared for this small talk, but your mouth opens on its own. "Maybe," you reply. "But I think it's the kind of thing that doesn't really come back, you know? They're part of a time, and that time's already passed." You're amazed to be talking to this boy who's always seemed like a phantom, and yet, here you are, standing in the middle of this empty store, speaking about something as mundane as old band shirts.

He nods slowly, his lips curving into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. It's so subtle that for a moment, you wonder if you imagined it, but it's there. It's just the slightest hint of something softer, something human. And then you realise: You're falling for him.

It's strange, this attraction. It's an odd sensation, this yearning you feel for him, this hunger that defies logic. It's not just about his looks, though he's undeniably attractive in that brooding, raw way that makes you want to reach out and heal him, to uncover the secrets behind those dark eyes. It's not just about the way he wears his pain, though that's part of it, too. It's the way he exists, simultaneously here and not here, an enigma you can't unravel and a mystery you don't want to solve.

He returns time and time again, and the attraction grows. It's like a fire growing inside you, stoked by each new conversation, each new visit. His eyes linger on you, his posture shifts when he speaks to you, as though you're the only one in the room that matters to him. Look at him when he thinks you're not looking. See the brief flicker of desire beneath the exhaustion, the darkness, the weariness in his expression.

The small talk continues, each encounter slightly different from the last. He talks about the weather, his favourite bands, how tired he is, how the world outside feels heavier with each passing day. In return, you offer him pieces of yourself: small, fragile fragments of who you are. You tell him about your favourite songs, the books you're reading, the slow, dull ache of working here day after day. The conversations feel effortless, as though they're not just casual exchanges, but something more – something intimate, something shared in the quiet spaces where neither of you says what you truly mean.

Sometimes, he'll come in and barely speak. He'll stand there, leaning against the counter, staring into the distance, waiting for something he can't even define. In those moments, you will find yourself standing beside him, offering him a quiet kind of company, the kind that is needed but never asked for. You don't talk; you exist next to him, and somehow, that's enough.

His presence is now an integral part of your routine, something you actively look forward to. You wait for the moment when he'll walk through the door, when the store will go still and the world will narrow to just the two of you in this small, dimly lit space. With every visit and every word exchanged, your connection deepens, pulling you both closer together like two pieces of a puzzle that don't quite fit but always belong together.

You know that you're not just waiting for him anymore—you're craving him. The pull is undeniable; your heart skips when he enters the room and your breath catches when his eyes meet yours. There's no denying it now.

He's more than just a boy who comes into the store. He's become a part of your days and your thoughts. You feel like he belongs here just as much as you do. With each visit, with every word, that strange, intoxicating attraction grows deeper, more uncontainable, until you realise it will always be enough.

It's late afternoon. The dimming light outside casts long shadows into the store. The usual hum of fluorescent lights overhead is punctuated by the soft tapping of a keyboard in the back, but the store feels emptier today. It feels suspended, as though time has slowed just for you, just for him. It's one of those quiet days where you almost forget how long you've been here, how many hours have passed since you first arrived this morning. But then the door chimes, and everything shifts.

He strides in, as if the air itself revolves around him, and the room instantly takes on a weighty sense of his presence. Ronin. You don't know why that name feels like it belongs to him, but it does. His long hair falls in its usual curtain, but today, there's a hint of something new in his demeanour—a slight looseness to his posture, like he's letting go of whatever invisible weight he's been carrying around for so long.

He glances around, his eyes flicking over the racks, but always find their way back to you. For a moment, neither of you says anything. The silence is familiar, but different today. There's something more to it, as if it's begging to be said. His gaze is a little softer than usual, like he's waiting for something.

You smile at him, your smile small and uncertain, and your pulse starts to race. He notices. His lips quirk slightly, not quite a smile, but enough to show that he sees you, sees the way your body tenses just slightly when his eyes meet yours. Then, finally, he speaks, his voice solid and real.

"Ronin," he says, and the name is like a breath, sharp and heavy, almost foreign on his lips but somehow fitting, like he's just stepped out of the shadows and into the light for the first time. He says it quietly, but there's something almost final about it, like he's been carrying that name around for longer than you can imagine, like it's been locked away inside of him, and now, he's giving it to you. Ronin. The name hangs between you like a promise, like a key to something deeper.

You blink, and the weight of it hits you. Ronin. You repeat the name in your head, letting it settle there, trying to hold onto it, trying to make sense of why it feels so important. You open your mouth to speak, but the words get caught in your throat for a moment, and the air seems to thicken around you, thick with everything unsaid, everything that's building between you.

"Ronin," you repeat, testing it out, and as you say it, you watch his face carefully. His eyes flicker, a brief, imperceptible softening, a pulling back just a little. It's a subtle change, but it's undeniable. You are compelled to explore the nature of this phenomenon.

"That's... that's your name?" You don't know why you feel the need to ask, but the question slips out before you can stop it. You feel like you're stepping into unknown territory, like you're treading carefully on the edge of something that could break open if you push too hard.

He nods, his expression unreadable, but there's a clear sense of melancholy in his demeanour. His name and identity have clearly been a burden for him to bear, something he hasn't figured out how to untangle. "Yeah," he says, his voice quieter this time, more drawn out. "I guess I never really got to tell you, did I?"

There's a flicker in his eyes—regret, maybe, or exhaustion, or both. You want to ask him more about the name, about him, but you don't. Instead, you simply nod, acknowledging the trust he's given you, this small piece of him he's just handed over.

"Nice to finally know," you say, and there's a strange feeling behind those words—like you're stepping into something much deeper than a simple conversation, like this moment is the start of something neither of you quite understands yet.

Ronin doesn't say anything, but the way he looks at you changes slightly. The air between you is no longer just heavy with silence, but with something else — something unspoken. His gaze is deeper now, revealing something personal and raw. By telling you his name, he's invited you into a part of him he's kept hidden for so long.

He stands a little taller, but his gaze never leaves yours. "I didn't think you'd even care," he says, his voice low and almost a murmur, as if the confession itself is more vulnerable than anything else he could say. "But I guess... I don't know. I guess I wanted you to know." The words hang in the air between you, fragile, as if they're teetering on the edge of something bigger, something more.

Your heart beats faster now, not just from the tension in the room, but from the way the world seems to have narrowed down to just him and you, standing here, in this moment. The store feels farther away, as though the walls have blurred into the background, leaving only his name, his presence, his eyes locked with yours.

"I care," you say firmly, not giving it much thought, the truth just flowing out of you, quiet but certain. You don't know why those words come so easily, why it feels right to say them. But it does. When you say them, you can see him relax just a little bit; the tension in his shoulders eases for the first time since he walked in.

For a long moment, there's only the quiet between you, but it's no longer uncomfortable. It's not empty. It's full of possibilities, full of questions and answers waiting to be uncovered. You both stand there, the silence not oppressive but expectant, and you realise, with a sinking certainty, that this moment, this exchange, is just the beginning of something neither of you can run from.

The door chimes and you snap back to reality. He leaves, the soft click of his boots against the floor marking the end of another visit. But before he leaves, he nods slightly, and for the first time, you see the faintest, most genuine smile curl at the corners of his lips.

"See you," he says, his voice low and unambiguous. It is an invitation, a promise that you will meet again.

And with that, he's gone, leaving only the lingering echo of his name hanging in the air, a name you now own, a name that feels like it belongs to you as much as it belongs to him.

The days stretch and unfold, as if the store itself has become part of some slow-moving dream. Ronin keeps coming back, and with every visit, something shifts. At first, it was just the smallest exchanges – barely more than a nod or a quick word about a band, or a flicker of something darker, something deeper in his gaze that made your heart flutter. Now, as the days blur into one another, the distance between you both seems to shrink. Every time he steps into the store, the walls close in, making it just the two of you, standing in this strange, suspended space.

His visits have a rhythm of their own. He doesn't come in every day, but when he does, it's as if the world slows down for a few moments, the time around you bending to accommodate his presence. He lingers longer now, his eyes scanning the shelves but always coming back to you. The silence between you has softened; it is no longer filled with tension, but with a quiet kind of understanding.

It starts with small talk—casual, throwaway comments that don't mean much. But the way he says them, the way he lets his guard down just a little more each time, makes you feel like you're inching closer to something important. One day, he comes in and starts talking about a new album he's been listening to. The conversation is simple at first, just the usual banter—"Have you heard it? It's pretty good. You'd probably like it." But then, his voice drops just a little, like he's letting you in on a secret, and you find yourself leaning in to listen more closely.

"Yeah, I get that it's not everyone's thing," he says, his voice almost a whisper, "but there's something about it... It makes me feel less alone, you know?"

You nod, the words resonating with you. You don't need to explain it—he already understands, like he knows exactly what you mean. It's strange, this quiet bond growing between you, something unsaid but so obvious that it almost feels like an echo of your own thoughts.

The next time he comes in, it's the same—more small talk, more shared silence between the lines of conversation. But there's something different this time. There's a charge in the way he looks at you and the way his words hover between you. It's as if there's more he's not saying.

"Do you get off soon?" he asks one afternoon, his voice soft but laced with curiosity. It's the first time he's ever asked anything like that—something personal, something that makes you feel like maybe he's starting to see you as more than just a face behind the counter.

"Yeah, in about an hour," you answer, the words almost sounding foreign on your tongue. You hadn't realised how much you were looking forward to answering that question until the words left your lips. His question carries weight, his manner inviting you to share more.

He looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, then tilts his head slightly, as if weighing something. There's a pause, a quiet heartbeat of time, before he speaks again. "Let's grab coffee," he says, his voice tentative. He's unsure how you'll react, afraid of pushing too far.

Your heart stutters in your chest, your mind racing. You want to say yes, you want to reach out and accept his offer, but the words get stuck somewhere between your throat and your lips. You feel a strange pull between you, a growing desire to get closer to him, and yet the fear of what that might mean keeps you frozen in place.

Ronin doesn't wait. Instead, he reaches into his pocket, his fingers brushing against something hidden there. His movements are slow and deliberate, as if he's giving you time to catch up, to process. He pulls out his phone and for a moment, the world narrows to this one simple action. He unlocks it, then turns it toward you, the screen glowing with his number ready and waiting.

"I don't know," he says confidently, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "I'll give you my number. That way you don't have to think about it." His voice is quiet, but steady, offering you the chance to decide without pressure or expectation.

You stare at the screen, unsure, your heart pounding, and then you look up at him and see it—the faintest glimmer of something in his eyes, something vulnerable but also confident. He's waiting.

Everything else fades away for just a second. The racks of clothing, the constant hum of the store, the people who pass by without ever noticing you—it all disappears. At this moment, he is the only thing that matters. He is standing in front of you, offering you a piece of himself. You can feel your breath catch in your throat. Everything feels like it's hanging by a thread.

Without hesitation, you seize his phone, your fingers barely grazing his. The moment is suspended in the quiet space between you. You type your number in quickly, almost clumsily, and when you hand the phone back to him, you both know it's more than just numbers being exchanged. It's a door opening just a crack, but enough to let something new, something unspoken, begin to grow.

"I'll text you," you say, and the words feel strange, almost too forward, but they're real. You both know they are.

Ronin looks at you, his eyes softening just a little. There's a flicker of hope, or maybe just curiosity, in the way he gazes at you. "Good," he replies, voice steady, but there's something unspoken in the way he says it, something that feels like the beginning of something neither of you can control.

He slips his phone back into his pocket and nods slowly, almost imperceptibly. "See you later," he says, and this time, it doesn't feel like goodbye. It feels like the start of something new.

As he walks out, you can feel it – the shift, the undeniable change in the air. You're not sure where this is going, but you know, deep down, that this is just the beginning.

The coffee date is unforgettable; its warmth lingers long after it's over, and the cold night air is no match for its radiant warmth. The café was small and intimate, making the world outside feel distant and irrelevant. The conversations flowed easily, as if you had always known each other, as though the silences between words didn't matter, because the space between you was filled with something unspoken, something electric. You talked about music, life, those spaces that neither of you could quite fill, and in those exchanges, you felt more connected than you ever thought possible.

As the evening wound to a close and the last sip of coffee warmed you from the inside out, you both knew it wasn't really the end. Not yet. The night was still young, and Ronin wasn't in a hurry to go anywhere.

"I'll walk you home," he says, his voice low and casual, but there's something underneath it—an invitation that carries more weight than the words themselves.

You don't hesitate, nodding immediately. The air between you electric with anticipation. You are acutely aware of him, his presence filling the space around you, drawing you in without a word or touch. It's just him – Ronin, with his worn MCR shirt, his long, unruly hair, his steady gaze – and you, both moving through the darkening streets like two souls tethered together by something neither of you can fully explain.

The walk is quiet at first. The world seems to be holding its breath, watching the two of you, waiting for something to happen. The only sounds are the crunch of your footsteps on the pavement, the distant hum of cars, and the occasional rustle of the wind. Ronin glances at you, his eyes meeting yours, and there's a quiet understanding between you—a recognition that tonight is different, that something is shifting, something that neither of you can stop.

You walk in step with each other, neither of you rushing or eager to break the silence, because in this quiet, something feels more real than anything else. His presence is close, his hand just a hair's breadth away from yours, and every movement feels amplified, as if the world has shrunk down to this moment.

As you approach your building, the streets become darker, the lights of the city receding into the distance, yet the warmth of his proximity propels you forward. When you finally reach the corner by your building, you stop, and so does he. The air between you both is charged, the tension that's been building between you since the moment you met is palpable. It's as if everything has led up to this precise moment. His eyes search yours, his breath catches, his lips part as if he's about to say something, but he doesn't.

Instead, he steps closer, closing the distance until he's standing just a breath away. His gaze flickers down to your lips, and you feel the pull of it, the magnetic force drawing you in closer. It's as if the rest of the world disappears, leaving just him and this moment.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, his voice soft and almost a whisper, as if he's afraid of pushing too far, afraid of scaring you off. The way he asks the question is strange. There's no force in it, no urgency. It's just a gentle curiosity, as if he's asking for permission to cross an invisible line between you.

You hesitate, your heart beating faster. You could say no, you could pull away, but you don't. Something in you, the part of you that's been quietly aching for him, wants to feel the weight of his lips against yours, wants to know what that spark between you feels like when it ignites. You feel a tension in your chest, almost unbearable, and when you look up at him again, his eyes are full of raw, open emotion that you can't refuse.

Instead, you answer him with the smallest, most uncertain nod.

And that's all he needs.

He moves in slowly, his hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek, his touch warm against your skin. His breath brushes over your lips, and for a moment, the entire world seems to still. You can feel his pulse, feel his heart racing in sync with your own, and then, without another word, his lips finally meet yours.

It's soft at first, tentative, as if he's waiting for you to pull back, to change your mind, but when you don't, when you lean into him just a little, the kiss deepens. It's slow and deliberate, as if he's savoring every moment and your connection. His lips are warm, his breath mingling with yours, and you can taste the remnants of coffee on his mouth, the bitterness now mixed with something sweeter.

The world narrows to just the two of you, standing on the edge of your building, lost in this kiss. You feel your heart race, feel the heat spreading through your chest, down to your fingertips, as if the entire universe has condensed into this one, perfect moment. His hand slides around to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss, and you let yourself fall into it, into him.

When he pulls away, it's slow, his forehead against yours, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. You remain silent, standing close together, as if you don't know how to move or break the spell.

"That was...," you begin, but the words trail off. You are unsure of what to say, unsure of what any of it means.

"Yeah," Ronin says confidently, his voice low and rough, "It was." He doesn't say more, the unspoken understanding between you two clear in the air. He doesn't pull away immediately, and neither do you. You stay there, like time has stopped, holding onto this fragile, beautiful moment.

Then, he leans back, his fingers brushing your hand one last time, his eyes lingering on yours with something unreadable, something soft. "Goodnight, [Your Name]," he says, his voice quieter now, tinged with sincerity that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Goodnight," you reply, though you're not sure how you're still standing, how you haven't melted into him completely. You do, your feet feeling almost unsteady as he steps back, slowly disappearing into the night, leaving you standing there, heart pounding, lips tingling with the taste of him.

The door to your building looms ahead, but you don't move. You stand, the echo of his kiss still humming through you, knowing that everything has changed. This wasn't just a kiss. It was a promise. A beginning.

[nanivinsmoke]

Bestfriend’s Toy

Gojo x F!Reader

had to reupload because tumblr found my og picture nsfw. baby that’s what I write here! anyways, enjoy ~

summary ~ gojo uses you as his toy, whenever, where ever he wants. gojo x f!reader

warnings ~ dom, sub, dominate male, sub reader, cream pies, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, breeding, public sex, exhibitionism and more!

the sound of squelching and loud creaks of the bed vibrated throughout the room. their bodies moved in sync as they indulged in one another. her moans were muffled by her pink laced panties that the male had put into her mouth, as he pounded her cunt sloppy.

he was underneath her, supporting her from the top, as he jackhammered her hard; her wetness making a white slippery mess on his cock. her legs were weak and wobbly, yet she was taking his dick perfectly. “mmm. take my load. yeah?” she nodded her head quickly, feeling another orgasm approaching.

he pounded faster and harder, his mushroom tip kissing her spot each time. his warm thick load pooled inside of her as his stroke became sloppy. her eyes began to roll back and that feeling came in her stomach once again, but before she could enjoy it he pulled out of her immediately, making tears brim her eyes and whimpers muffling against the fabric.

he chuckled and pulled her panties out, letting her speak her mind, “gojo…..” she whined looking at him with sad eyes, wanting to feel complete. “what’s the matter, doll?” he teased as he grabbed his boxers, knowing exactly what she wanted. “please…please let me finish,” she begged and spread her thick thighs, which let his kids flow out of her.

“my toys don’t get to finish. now be a good cum dump and put those back on, you’re wasting it” he pointed at the pink garments lying next to her, before he continued to get dressed.

y/n and gojo were best friends. they met in college and did everything together, even working at the same job as each other. one night during a game of strip poker, y/n had the winning streak but the tables turned in gojo’s favor, which ended up having the game end up as a tie. as a tie breaker he suggested something different, something that changed their relationship forever. to make that long and lewd story short, they ended up being a six and a nine that night, seeing who could cum first. he was the loser that time, but seeing how well she could make him cum loads, he decided on making her his fuck toy and she obliged.

“your receipt is in the bag, enjoy your day. beautiful” the customers squealed and smiled as Gojo flirted with them, exiting the store while giggling and talking about how cute he was. while he was putting their cash into the drawer, he glanced over at the girl that was crouching next to him, shivering and whimpering as the toy that was inserted inside her went rampant inside her hole.

“you didn’t make any noise, good girl. as your reward, im going to turn the toy off for now. in the meantime, you can go stock the shelves” his blue eyes trailed over to the next customer walking into their convenience store and a smirk appeared on his face.

waddling over to an isle, y/n moved slow as she was still weak from being overstimulated a few minutes ago. her panties were soaked with her fluids, making it uncomfortable for her to move around, she had came so much she was sure he drained her. but, the thought of being caught, the thought of someone hearing the buzzing of the toy, the thought of someone finding out what she was doing; made her blush. gojo had brought out a side she didn’t know she had. she liked it.

the customer that entered the store looked around puzzled, not able to find what they were looking for, which made the white haired male smile. he knew exactly what to do, “you need help miss?” his smile seemed genuine, but it was hardly that. “oh im looking for this,” the woman pointed at her phone and that cause gojo’s smile to widen more. “ah yes, that’s down that aisle. there should be a woman down there that can help you,” his smile was bright and the woman nodded her head.

“miss? can you help me find something that im looking for?” the woman’s voice called out to y/n who turned around and nodded with a smile, slowly waddling over to her. “Oh, that’s over he—OH!” gojo had turned on the toy once again, putting it on the highest setting. “are yoh alright miss–oh my god!” y/n had dropped to her knees, as the orgasm came upon her. the orgasm she so desperately needed caused her legs to go weak. her breathing picked up and her mind went blank.

“oh my! sorry about her, she hadn’t slept much. here! this is on the house. Im going to take care of her for a bit. thanks for stopping at our store” gojo handed the woman the item she was looking for before picking y/n’s body up and making his way to the back room. when the two were finally alone, she was still in her daze as gojo stared at her with a smirk with the remote in hand. “how many times did you cum?”

her eyes fluttered up to his, “five times…” she replied weakly and he chuckled before turning off the toy with the remote. he swiftly pulled down his zipper and pushed his hard cock through the hole and with no hesitation he slipped y/n’s panties to the side; his pink tip at her slick entrance before he stopped. his blue crystal eyes met her’s for a brief moment, before she looked away and bucked her hips closer to him and pushed him inside. “shit! attagirl. taking me so well”

her wetness immediately coated his dick, creating a film of cream over it, “you came again didn’t you?” he already knew the answer as he felt her walls contract around him. she nodded weakly her eyes fixtated on the door behind them, her ears perked up when she heard the store’s door chime on the opposite side of the door. “oh? you got excited didn’t you? let’s make sure they can hear you take this dick”

he slammed his hips foreward, pushing himself deeper inside of her making her yelp out. He continued this action more, loving the noises she finally decided to let out. “mmm. so fucking sexy, I can do it inside?” he groaned softly, stroking in and out of her sopping wet cunt. she nodded frantically hearing the customers call out for them.

gojo’s strokes became sloppier and fast paced, and his dick twitched inside of her. y/n’s orgasm came crashing down on her hard, her body twitched and her back arched, “YES!” gojo let out his load inside of her, his thick white semen dripped out of her when he pulled out.

“you know I’m going to punish you later for cumming so much, right? now, let’s go see what they want”

[shoyosh]

i love you like the sun. h.s

general audiences | hinata / reader | 2.4k words — post-timeskip, childhood friends, reader is a university student, reader's mother owns a bakery, reunion :), sun/moon motifs perchance, not proofread! — read on SqWA

summary: while consumed in a blind race against the world, a comfortable beam of light returned to your life to guide your path forward.

author's note: for the fellow hinata stans out there shoveling through life, i suppose this is what a character like hinata would want to remind us :) happy belated birthday hinata... sob, sob. this is so late lol. title taken from the moon will sing by the crane wives (youtube).

Your short trip to the convenience store for a midnight snack is a growing nightmare as the machine rejects your payment. You don't have cash so on your second try, you close your eyes and wish for the best.

You're hungry and tired, the worse combination to deal with the pathetic 'loading…' screen. It's the ultimate test of patience as seconds tick by, and you're about to lose it…

Beep!

You sigh, reining your head from dropping on the counter top. The tech menace flaunts a large, bold 'ERROR!' It proceeds to shut down. While it feasted on your fear and patience, you got the short end of the stick. Seems like you'll be starting your all-nighter with an empty stomach.

Ding! The store bell rings. A customer has entered just in time to see your plight. What a happening night of unfortunate circumstances.

"I am so sorry for the trouble," you mutter, grabbing your item off the counter. The cashier takes a marker from a drawer underneath, swirls to the cabinet behind for a piece of paper, and writes "Cash Only" before finding a metal stand to prop the notice. Then, he calls the next customer.

It's just a fluffy, yellow, and warm melon bread. You can survive this deepening lonely night without it as you've done before.

This convenience store has served you diligently since your youth. Today is an outlier, not the end of the world. You're low on energy hence you shouldn't waste it on strong emotions, especially not tears.

You shake your head and leave the queue to place your item back on the shelf.

"Wait! I'll pay for you!" a voice says. Your eyes brighten. Who is this stranger whom you owe? Your saviour who will help you plough through this empty, blue and bleak night?

When you spin around, you stare straight at the sun.

Short yet tousled orange hair, tanned skin, and intense brown eyes. The man in front of you is more happy than surprised to see you.

"Hinata-san?" You sputter, pointing at him as he points back at you with a complementary wide grin. He seems to want to say your name but a question leaps from your tightening throat: "You're back in Japan?"

Just as he's about to reply, the cashier coughs and Hinata returns his attention to paying. He shares he wants to pay for your item, so you hand it to the cashier for another round of scanning. You also use the opportunity of his back against you to wipe any stray water at the corner of your eye.

Once he makes the purchase, both of you walk out of the convenience store. Warm summer air blows on your face the moment the glass doors slide open.

"What are you doing awake at this time?" Hinata asks while you're preoccupied with opening the plastic of your anticipated snack. It seems he did not buy anything.

"I should say the same for you!" Your mouth is filled with bread, muffling your pronunciation but unable to cushion the excitement in your voice. "Did you not tell anyone you are back?"

"Only my family knows for now." Hinata watches you carefully as you chow your mini-meal. "I landed a few hours ago and will be leaving in a few days. I don't think I have time to catch up with everyone... This trip was unplanned."

You press your lips together at the thought he didn't contact you for something as big as his a return.

Only after rumination, ensuring none of the hurt spills, do you speak.

"It's been so long since we last saw each other."

"I'm back to celebrate my birthday with my family. I believe the last we saw each other was on my birthday too."

You cough to readjust a lump of chewed bread that almost went down wrongly.

Birthday?

You tilt your phone's screen to see the date.

21st June.

Memories of a near distant past return, rearing you speechless as it plays in front of you like a film.

You remember Hinata, on his way to celebrate his last birthday as a high school student, riding his bicycle to your mother's neighbourhood bakery; You rejecting his invitation to go out so you can study for an upcoming test; The impromptu picnic at the park disrupted by your silent outburst; Him calmly convincing you to rest, not cram your head with revision.

"How embarrassing…" you mutter, wrestling with a sudden and strong desire to run to your apartment and never see the light of day. "I wish you'd forget that. I know I did."

"How can I forget! You were so stressed and I was so worried. But you did sleep and texted me the next day that you were feeling better. You were the top scorer for your test too! Isn't that the best birthday present?"

Your face heats up. Surely it is the summer night that is causing such a reaction. Did he know the effect he had on people? Shining smile and all. Does he know what effect he has on you? How unwavering it is despite the time and distance apart.

"I'm full," you declare, passing him your half-bitten melon bread. He didn't say it but you know he probably wants a bite of it too. It is his favourite. "You haven't tasted this in a while right? They don't sell this in Brazil, do they?"

"It's not as delicious." He takes the food, fingers brushing yours. You try to keep your hands to your side as naturally as possible, as if contact with his skin didn't inject a thousand chills into your system, blood rushing to your face.

"Why are awake at this hour though?" He asks.

"I'm just hungry." You shrug.

He chows down the melon bread. Then, he narrows his eyes.

"You wouldn't be if you were asleep though…"

"Obviously," you tease, trying to steer the conversation away from your tendency to sleep late. "Now it's your turn to share what you're doing here."

The convenience store is far behind as you and Hinata stroll down the street at a familiar leisurely pace. You walked this path with him every day up till high school, when he went to a school beyond the mountains, Karasuno. You didn't stay in the neighbourhood either. You were awarded a scholarship for a school in the city.

It pained you to realise how far apart you were from your best friend then. But he was always nearby. Although infrequent throughout high school, he would peer through the glass windows of the bakery looking for you. Sometimes you'll visit his house for dinner when your mother had deliveries out of town. Moments you spent with him were sun-drenched. Without him, you easily receded into long, gloomy nights of revising. There was no other option if you wanted to hold your scholarship among a pool of talented people. You even decided against staying at the University dorms to have his shade of orange in your life.

You can't say you took the news of him traveling to Brazil well.

It was easy to drown in the deep blues of the night since. Burning your memories in exchange for output, so there were less things to painfully hold on to.

"I'm still following Brazil's clock." Hinata laughs, then points at the moon but you look at him. "It's bright in Brazil. I would be at the beach hitting some drills."

As you pass the lamplight, you observe his new physique. He has an uneven tan around his shoulders and thighs that are larger and more formed. You try to tear your eyes away from it, but they linger even as both of you enter a shadowed area of the road. If you knew you would bump into him, you would wear something presentable. You are in your loose pajamas, and unlike Hinata who is in a sleeveless top and sports shorts, you aren't prepared for the warm weather. The trip to the convenience store was supposed to be quick.

"Let's drop by my place, if you don't mind," you offer.

"Sure! I was planning to walk you back anyways, and there's nothing to do at home."

"Do you not have plans for your birthday?"

"Not until tomorrow." He shakes his head and hesitates. He glances at you innocently which signals he's far from innocent but your desire to question him is swept away with his large sigh. "The cake my parents bought will only come then."

"It's a custom cake? I can't think of any other reason why it can't be fulfilled on the day of the—wait… My mum was busy making an order for a special cake, and she said it was something I'll look forward to… Is that your cake?"

Hinata rubs the back of his head as he looks at everything but you, eyes frantically jumping from lamppost to the ground to the roof of houses.

"I…" He pouts like a dog with its tail between its legs. "My return was supposed to be a surprise…" His voice tapers to a whisper, but Hinata has the lungs of a beast. He roars the next few words. "I was supposed to send you a surprise invite to my birthday party tomorrow, but I really wanted to see you!"

You stand at the sidewalk, limbs limp and eyes wide. If you were still eating, you would have dropped your snack.

He wanted… to see you?

But you have more important things to stress about!

Tomorrow? After your all-nighter to finish your work, you'll crash! You might need a drink for that extra energy boost throughout the night…

"Is something wrong?" Hinata asks, his eyes now steadily on you. "I heard from your mum you have been working hard. That's why your replies are so sparse, isn't it?"

"I wasn't… ignoring you," you mumble, remembering how he'll send you a text and you'll reply a month later. "Yeah, things have been getting really busy."

He crosses his arms, puffing his chest out.

"I knew you'd be at the convenience store."

"Eh?" A second blow of surprise. Maybe you've overworked yourself. This is a dream, isn't it? You pinch your cheeks and flinch at the pain.

"You haven't changed, have you? Do I need to be here to take care of you?" He leans, eyes sharp and focused, as if you'll be able to see yourself through his irises. You'll never know in the dimness, but it does feel he's caged you in his sight.

"E-Eh!!" You stumble back, chains of embarrassment are latched on your shoulders and calling you to the floor. "Please don't say such stuff so abruptly. I can't take it."

Hinata chortles, filling your chest with a warmth that coddles your heart battered by his absence. You missed this laugh of his. An aunty turns on the lights in her room and opens her window to scold both of you, and her incessant insults about being lovesick birds causes that feeling to climb to your face.

After apologising, the short distance to your house is awkward, but he invites himself in like old times once he's reached, as if the summer he left was a fever dream.

"Sorry, everything is all over the place," you warn as you flick your room's lights on. Stacks of books overflow from your shelf while stationary and miscellaneous items sprawl on your desk, your laptop the epicentre of the mess. You dump yourself in your chair and instinctively start working as Hinata makes himself comfortable sitting at the edge of your bed. But it's not enough to please him as he gets up and observes over your shoulder.

"That's a lot of words."

"It's a report I've got to finish by tomorrow." Your fingers fly across the keyboard. Seconds later, they are deleted. "It's a pain in the ass."

Hinata giggles. "I've never heard you say that."

"Everyone says worse stuff in University. It really wrings you dry." You get up to pull a stool from under your bed for him to sit on. His name written in cheap red marker across the seat is faded and smeared.

"Have you been living like this? Your bed feels almost new while your chair looks worn." His fingers ghost over some scratch marks on the backrest.

Do I need to be here to take care of you?

"It feels like I don't really have a choice."

"Well, since neither of us can sleep, let's go through this night together."

With Hinata's presence, the night is less blue.

When you wake, it is late morning. Your alarm has been ringing for hours, and you turn to your side after shutting it off. With your head resting on your soft pillow, blanket over your figure, and the air conditioning gently buzzing to cool your room to a comfortable temperature, it’s the perfect equation for staying in bed. However, hazy memories of your report jolts you to your feet.

What happened last night? Where did you stop? Where's Hinata? You dash towards your screen—

There is a post-it-note at the corner with a message written in neat yet uneven handwriting.

You check your phone out of habit, surprised to find a notification. Hinata sent a text.

I went back home to sleep. You worked hard so I tucked you in bed ☆～（ゝ。∂）Hope to see you at the party tomorrow!

Another attack of summer—your face warms and you hide behind your hands. He tucked you in bed? That's so embarrassing. How are you going to face him during the party?

Once again, his words repeat in your mind.

Do I need to be here to take care of you?

If you can be selfish, the answer is yes.

But you know better than that. The sun is a distant star that shines out of reach.

You try to ignore the clock and its ticking numbers, and once your anxiousness surrenders to a calm, you pester your mother downstairs to make your favourite childhood drink. Her not-so-special spciality: hot chocolate. You haven't drank it in years. Taking the cup up, you settle in your chair and do some stretches.

You close your eyes facing your window. The sun's rays seep through your eyelids, a splash of unforgettable orange paints your view.

Even if Hinata can't be with you as often as you'll like, you'll always have traces of him to guide you through the endless night.

You take a deep, big breath and read the reminder he left on your laptop.

Take it easy.

author's note: this story was inspired by this video by lessons from anime (youtube). started this fic on 24th june and tried to finish it before the month ended only to fail, but i picked myself up and somehow managed to squeeze this out. thanks for making it until the end! till my next hq fanfic :)

[madhatterbri]

Secret Santa | A.S.

Summary: 17.) Secret Santa ~ Alex Shelley x plus size reader, plz use pet names rather than y/n.

Requested by: @tahiri-veyla

Author's Note: I changed my mind and posted tonight. He is kind of hot. 💀 Taken from my prompts list found here. No use of Y/N.

Alex Shelley Masterlist

WWE Masterlist

Taglist: @smallestsnarkestgirl @magicalbuttertarts @cowboywritersworld

"Wow! You got your girlfriend for Secret Santa? That's gotta be the easiest thing ever,"

Alex looked at his friend and smiled briefly. He let out a chuckle as he looked at his girlfriend's name written on the slip of paper. Of course it was going to be easy. They had been together forever. What could possibly go wrong?

He put the slip in his jean pocket and drove to a local store. Alex figured he'd walk in the store, buy something for the love of his life, and walk out in fifteen minutes. Nothing could have prepared him for the moment his mind went blank as he looked at all the items. There are so many things to buy but he doesn't know what exactly he should buy.

The Secret Santa was going to be a party amongst their friends. The gifts had to be out of the park. His little miss had to get the very best things. He was sure he would get something lame for whoever picked him. It didn't matter if it would be another Starbucks gift card that he received that would rot in a kitchen drawer. The sparkle in her eyes that night would make his night.

Alex pulled out his phone and scrolled through Google. He was trying to find a perfect gift for her. Google had an answer for everything, right?

Slippers? What are we? 80?

Gift cards? Hey babe, we've only been dating for years. Here's something because I don't listen to your likes. Don't worry. I'll see myself to the couch.

Okay, so Google wasn't the right thing to use for today. Alex closed the window and texted his best friend. Maybe he could give some sort of insight into his dilemma. It went as well as expected. The message poked fun at his current situation.

Dude, you have one hour until the party. Are you serious? Oh man, you are so ducked.

Alex shoved his phone in his pocket. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. One hour. Only one hour to get everything ready. The wrestler looked through the aisle again and stopped.

A rubber duck with a wrestling face mask stared back at him. He questioned how he hadn't seen this before. The toy would be a great addition to her collection. Besides, wrestling held major importance to them. They met at a wrestling show.

"You are coming home with me," he spoke to the duck much to the bewilderment of the customers around him. His hands fiddled with the duck as he paced around the store.

Alex thought about his girlfriend. His perfect little dove from head to toe. She had a smile that could light up the whole room. A body with curves in all the right places. Her beautiful face and eyes lit up as she had her nose stuck in another book. A blanket wrapped around her feet since they were always cold.

Wait, that's it!

The forgetful boyfriend rushed to the book aisle. She was just complaining about almost being done with a book. Her world was made when she found out there was a sequel. Scanning through the aisle, he found the next book in the series. It was the very last copy.

His next stop was the socks section. A cute pair of fuzzy socks in her favorite color lay at the top of the bin. When he saw they were her size, he breathed a sigh of relief. With no time to lose, Alex made his way to the checkout line with a gift bag in hand.

Alex's friend ribbed him the moment he arrived at the party.

Dead man walking.

Coal would be a blessing compared to what you are going to get.

He chuckled at the lighthearted teasing. "Oh no, my baby is going to love this,"

They stepped inside the home. The host of the party didn't waste much time in allowing people to open their gifts. He wanted to have the presents opened before the adult beverage consumption.

One by one, the gifts were spread out amongst the crowd. As expected, Alex was gifted a Starbucks gift card. He thanked them all the same.

"You are my secret Santa? Isn't that cheating?" His girlfriend asked.

Alex shrugged. "Open it up, darling,"

He watched as her fingers removed each tissue paper carefully. She placed them neatly on the couch next to her.

"A wrestling duck?" She asked with a laugh. "He's adorable,"

Her laughter made him smile. "Keep looking,"

Upon further inspection, she removed the book from the gift bag. Her face lit up brighter than the Christmas tree. "I could never find one in any of the stores. Thank you,"

"You have one more thing in there," Alex told her.

She pulled out the pair of fuzzy socks out and laughed. He couldn't help but laugh as well.

"No more putting your cold feet against me at night," he teased. His girlfriend threw her head back and laughed.

"I guess I'll have to put something else against you tonight," she whispered between them. She leaned in and gave him a kiss. Alex smiled in the kiss. Maybe getting a Starbucks card didn't suck so much after all.

[czteryd]

My guide to Internet warfare and taking back control

By which I mean minimizing screen time and wasting your life on making Zuckerber rich. Scrolling Instagram doesn't seem to be dangerous, but there is probably nothing less hurtful than wasting time of milliards of people on things they don't care about. Using willpower to work on this is a lie — you will need real weapons, technologies and strategy.

^this is the lost future you are fighting for. Technology can be good.

Remember, that wars are rarely won in a week, I am in trenches since last summer when i ditched my phone, when i say "It takes time" i mean 5–10 months. It is still hard, but the improvement is amazing.

This is a list of things I have been doing for more than a year that improved my life. Ranked with ease (EAS) + effectiveness (EFF) from 1 to 10.

It is still not perfect, but this is a warzone and you will adapt and not be allowed to surrender, soldier!

Remove the smartphone – 5 eas + 15 eff

Sorry. This is a military grade weapon that milliards of dollars are put into to make you waste your time as easily as you can. You can move forward with your phone, but nothing is as effective in taking control back during your commutes, breaks, walks and free time etc. and it is a very important part of learning to deal with stress without mindless scrolling and games. There is no real phone hacks to help you. We and the enemy know that timers don't work. If you can enable all enemy weapons with one switch it is not enough.

You will need a dumbphone or a custom rom to use this technique and stay in society.

It is not as hard as it sounds, actually you don't need it that much. Check out #dumbphone or r/dumbphones for inspiration and support. Me and many of my friends who done it as well don't look back.

Buuut i can't – 9 eas + 5 eff

Yes you can. But if you insist, still, buy a dumbphone or find one in the drawers and put your sim card there; carry them both. Now you can use the Internet only when you have wifi, but you can use offline maps, listen to downloaded music and watch downloaded movies, read pdfs etc. Check your email, bank, messages, memes at work or at home. You will regain control over walks, commutes and socialising. But if you still have any social apps, at home or during breaks, you are still cooked. It is still a very good first step to moving away from phone dependence.

Smartphone substitutes

Email, socials, work, school – all will now be done on a pc or a laptop. This is good. It allows you to distance yourself from stress, tiring family members, school, work and problems of others and engage with them only when you want to. It allows you to take a break. It is not your duty, to engage all the time and the ability to do so at your own pace is the biggest advantage you can get on the battlefield. If something important is going on — someone will call you, don't worry. Just inform others that WhatsApp is not a place to discuss emergencies.

Fun, music, reading – you will need to get a dumbphone that supports some music, pdf viewing, photos and maybe light web browsing, they do exist. Or just buy an mp3 player, some books and a notepad. An e-reader and a camera for the high tech soldiers. Y2K is back in fashion anyway, and you will be much cooler and people will start conversations. Having everything in one place was convenient, but, if it means having time–wasting hazards in your pocket, it is not worth it.

Libraries are here to support you on your journey.

Block the feed — 10 eas + 4 eff

Hopefully you got rid of your phone, the biggest danger now is your web browser.

Use LeechBlock to block or regulate access to the biggest dangers – youtube, instagram, fb, reddit. On the weak side it is no better than the timer in your phone, supportive, but not really effective and fills you with guilt. Guilt is bad.

On the strong side you will block all access, allow very rare and short usage, put as many defenses as you can, put blockades on your blockades. Your brain is very effective at overcoming barriers, but they need to be put in place.

It is the first step, but it is not enough to win the war. Real psychological effects will show only after months of usage and well adjusted settings that acknowledge how your brain works and as you adapt your barriers will need to adapt as well. On the flip-side it requires no real conscious work or wasting your willpower if your filters are good.

You will sometimes need to bend the rules, to fix something or watch a lecture or a tutorial or just for some well deserved Forgotten Vines Compilation. Remember to put them back in place later and spot the times where you never did — and do it then.

Warning: nerd shit! (3-6) eas + (7-10) eff

If your friends sent you a funny video — don't unlock the site to watch it. Use external software like MPV or VLC to watch this video using only the link, without getting rid of your defense line. This is easiest on a linux machine.

You also have the nuke – block websites on your router and gate settings. You will need the support of the rest of the war room members in your house to use it and it will cut access to actually useful things. But this is a war for your life and every sacrifice is worth it.

Block the biggest hazards — 6 eas + 9 eff

Sorry, but you will need to use some nerd tactics.

Shorts, reels, tik toks, explore, for you pages. They need to be blocked immediately and for good. No access, no overrides, no fiddling in options. LeechBlock browser addon will allow you to block specific pages with harder barriers. Do it and never change them.

They are the biggest danger and you know it. Your brain will not be mad if it won't get dopamine this way, it knows you would never find the perfect 1 minute video that would make you happy. The urge to scroll some shorts will go away real fast.

This will allow you to fight only the easier fights — against the normal infinite feeds.

UblockOrigin

Is a double edged sword. Removing ads makes your life on the internet easy and fun. It is only a good thing to a certain extent – our fight is to make some parts of the internet as hard and painful to use – but it will help you keep your sanity.

Use it to block the feed! Click on Ublock icon and use the little pipette to add a rule that blocks the infinite feed on webpages of your choice.

Select the area and click the blue button to create a rule on the main page. Now you will not be distracted with algorithmic content, but you are free to not block groups important for you or your work or still see notifications, messages and other functions.

Cons: sometimes your rules will break with time, you will need to make many of them. Removing ads from youtube is dangerous as the reward is easier to obtain, thus making the boobytrap more effective.

Don't use apps and don't use the browser. 10 eas + 6 eff

Minimize a chance of getting distracted while doing something else.

For messages, school and work remove the browser from the equation. Use desktop clients for messaging, microsoft office, Teams, email etc. They have exactly what you need and are often more convenient to use. No chance of opening Instagram in excel.

For social media and online entertainment use the browser, don't use the apps! You are going into the warzone, you will need the armor – Leechblock and other addons are here to help you. Time wasting apps are engineered to remove your personal defense – never use them.

No Screentime before coffee – 1 eas + 10 eff

This one is behavioral and requires actual brain work, but give yourself some time and it will give you great effects.

Do not check memes, messages, mail etc. before waking up. Easier said than done.

Going to school or work will be easier, waking up will be easier, you will start to eat and have more energy during the day.

It will require you to plan your day in advance, check the calendar and your plan for the day the night before. I never learned it as a child and it is very hard to work on it, but the effects on my psyche are immense.

If you got rid of your phone, you are halfway there. If you can remove your laptop from proximity of your bed — do it. If you have an ability to put your pc in a seperate room — it would be perfect, but not many are able to, including me.

Separate your working, from sleeping, from entertainment spaces, we worked on it during COVID soldier, don't forget your training.

Remove the noise — 1 eas + 4 eff

somewhat. You probably don't actually need podcasts and music to work, walk or sleep and regaining your ability to focus there is also important. Maybe substitute them with white/pink/brown noise at least sometimes, especially for brain heavy tasks this is very helpful to get work done in a reasonable amount of time. Blanket app is a good desktop noise generator that won't require the browser.

But I will not blame you if you won't, this is the least problematic part and humans have always met to do menial tasks while hearing others talk and many conditions are easier to live with some background noise.

Pick your allies

Internet is a meadow and a minefield. Place for art and support and knowledge filled with weapons designed to use you as an revenue generator. Watch content only from curated, quality places and people you follow. Never look at the algorithmic feed. Tumblr is a prime example of a site that can be your ally, but don't trust it – block the For You page.

don't lose your steam

Do not engage emotionally with things beyond your control. This was the twitter's weapon of choice. If you do not have the money or time to support a cause, you know about it and you know all your mutuals already support it – don't let the algorithm put it down your throat against your will.

Do not follow war hashtags, do not look at pages when you can see hate and violence against your will. Educate yourself, do as much as you can, follow people who inspire you and do real work, but allow yourself to move on if it is beyond your abilities or strength. Your local anarchist group will do more good in a month, than you reading political posts for years. If you honestly care – join them and focus on real work. If you can't contribute, just learn about it and move on. There will be more opportunities in the future and then we will need all your strength. This is the sad part of winning the war. Some sacrifices have to be made.

^you soon

Wish you luck soldiers. This is a fight worth fighting.

share your weapons of choice if you can and tell me about your experiences.