#sashay packs

[faithconsumingcope]

can’t decide if ai is bad or good

[monzamash]

imagine one of those funny mclaren challenge videos with the reader and lando. he’s basically giving her heart eyes the entire time while they’re doing a silly competition set up by the team

my heart is exploding over this!! i changed it up a tiny bit hope that's okay x warnings — none

it was so pathetically obvious that he was into you, heart eyes instantly activated the second he spotted you sashaying over with a clipboard and a couple of props that had oscar sweating with anxiety. lando, however was speechless, suddenly every single pick up line he knew had disappeared into thin air as you approached the table with that sweet smile he day-dreamed about way too often.

he may not have had the exact words he was looking for but the timid "hi" he greeted you with and the cheesy grin you adored sent a furious blush rushing up your neck. "you look pretty" he added before oscar gave him a swift shove in the ribs, "oi you can't say that!" "what did i say?" lando genuinely asked, looking between you and his teammate for an answer but oscar simply rolled his eyes and you got back to work.

lando watched you set up the magician props and a deck of cards for their game and his chin was propped up on his fist the entire time you demonstrated how the game would work – you were a consummate professional and he loved that about you. "get it together man... you're staring like a creep" oscars observation wasn't far off but lando couldn't help it.

he thought he'd blown it again when you sat back down behind the camera and called action, only really speaking up when they couldn't remember the rules of the game. all of lando's hopes of catching your eye were dwindling until the game was over and you started to pack up. it was subtle and only for lando's ears when you leaned in and whispered, "you look pretty too".

[healinghyunjin]

Ice

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Reader (fem)

Genre: romance, angst, fluff, smut; mafia!AU, strangers-to-lovers, 18+

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, mentions of blood; explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (seriously guys - don’t do what they do here, in terms of protection or consent), loss of virginity (graphic)

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! I’ve been gone for a really long time, I know - but I’m finally making my way back to this blog and to writing again. I have a few fics in the pipeline, but here’s my first new release! It’s a very different style/genre/length from what I’ve posted here before; it’s a bit darker in tone and less fluffy (all’s well that ends well though lol) - so feedback and thoughts are extra extra appreciated!

Summary: Sheer good looks aside though…you’d seen his face on the news. What was his name? You remembered that it was something elegant, soft on the lips - a name that didn’t seem to fit the cruel, hardened mafioso it belonged to. 

It was only when those cold icy eyes locked with yours, gaze chilling even from all the way across the bar, that it finally came to mind. 

Hwang Hyunjin. 

You looked pathetic, you supposed. 

Sitting painfully alone, ignored in the midst of this packed club, idly stirring a drink you hadn’t taken a sip of, hadn’t even wanted in the first place. Your so-called date had foisted it on you…before he realized that plying you with alcohol wasn’t going to affect his chances of getting any either way, and quickly left to try his luck elsewhere. 

And it was just as well. You really weren’t cut out for this type of stuff. You’d never been, honestly - you’d gone to a few parties in college, gone on even fewer dates, and done nothing that ended up with you going home with someone. Your roommate had finally had enough though, and that’s how you’d ended up here. 

“Go have some fun for once,” she’d said. “You need to lose that V-card before your tits start sagging, love.” And before you could even think of an adequately snippy response, she’d thrown a phone number at you - a friend of a friend of a friend, supposedly - and sashayed out of your room, hollering behind her that she’d be out all night, so you could bring anyone you wanted home with impunity. 

You’d snorted, shaking your head. You? Bringing someone home? With your dating skills and general luck, you were probably gonna bring home a serial killer - if you even managed to hit it off with anyone in the first place. 

Still, you’d let her squeeze you into a pretty pink bandage dress and ridiculously high heels and send you on your way...just for it to go exactly as you’d thought it would. 

With a sigh, you pushed yourself off your seat, attempting to wade your way back to the bar. You could do with a tall glass of water - and maybe something a little stronger, something that you actually liked - before retreating back to the sanctuary of your own four walls and soft bed. 

Even in the hazy lighting of the club, punctuated only by disorienting strobes, it was obvious that there was something strange going at the bar. The sweaty, suffocating cluster of humans on the dance floor came to an abrupt end, with no one occupying the empty space right next to them. This section of the bar was jarringly, eerily empty, seats and counter all open - except for four men, lounging about like they owned the place. 

You knew better - you really did. But still - you found yourself pushing closer and closer, straight to the outskirts of the crowd, until you could get a clear view. Three of them were turned away from you, leaving you nothing to see other than broad shoulders and backs, straining against tight leather jackets. As for the fourth, however…

The first thing to catch your eye, unique and beautiful, even in the dim lighting, was a gorgeous black and blue tattoo, winding its way around the neck of its equally striking owner. Sheer good looks aside though…you’d seen his face on the news. What was his name? You remembered that it was something elegant, soft on the lips - a name that didn’t seem to fit the cruel, hardened mafioso it belonged to. 

It was only when those cold, icy eyes locked with yours, gaze chilling even from all the way across the bar, that it finally came to mind. 

Hwang Hyunjin. 

You knew you should probably stop. Men like that hurt people for just glancing at them the wrong way - and here you were, having a staring match with the most ruthless of them all. 

And that’s how you found yourself in the alley behind the club, pinned against the rough brick wall - with Hyunjin pressed between your legs. He was everywhere - his lips ravishing yours with hot, predatory kisses; one hand hungrily palming your breasts, the other hiking up your dress, trailing along your sodden panties. He moaned a curse against your lips as he felt just how wet you were for him. 

“You’re ruining me,” he groaned, hand hastily dragging away from your chest to wind around your waist, pulling your lower half against his firmly. “Tell me what you want, angel,” he murmured before breaking off into a hiss, clutching at you as your hips bucked against his. 

“More,” you moaned. Your untouched, unexperienced self was overwhelmed by this man. You were stone-cold sober, your drink abandoned untouched back at the bar, but you were positively high off him, addicted to the way he was making you feel. “Whatever you want to do to me - just more.”

He laughed, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to the side of your head. “You’re gonna regret that.” And he immediately made to deliver on his promise. You gasped as he flicked the embarrassingly large wet spot marring your panties, nail dragging tortuously against your clit, before drawing aside the gusset, running his fingers through your wet folds. 

You couldn’t help but whimper. “Please.”

“Begging now, huh?” He barked out a laugh, but seemed ready to comply. As he dove in for a messy, passionate, soul-consuming kiss, long fingers of one hand still working your clit, you faintly heard the metallic clink of his belt buckle, the rustle of his clothing, the small sigh of relief he let out against your lips as he freed his cock from its confines. 

“Last chance, angel,” he groaned out, head falling back in pleasure as his hard, hot length slid against your folds. “I’m not gonna hold back after this.”

“I still want it - want you,” you whispered back. “I can take it.”

Those plush lips curved into a wicked, almost malicious smirk. “Good.” And with no further ado, he slammed himself home deep in your cunt.

A soft cry of pain escaped your lips. It stung - but within a second, past the initial resistance, the pain had ebbed away, replaced by a curious pressure, a blossoming sensation of fullness unlike anything you’d felt before.

Hyunjin, however, froze. 

You knew he’d probably felt that thin tissue - your so-called “innocence” - give way. With ominous slowness, he slid his fingers to the place where you were connected and lifted them up to the light. In the harsh gleam of the streetlights above, the faint traces of blood - your blood - marring his pale skin was obvious. 

And when he looked at you again, those ice blue eyes were mask-like, unreadable once again. 

“You know who I am, don’t you, sweetheart?” The endearment sounded like a curse in his mouth; his tone - stiff, chillingly empty - sending a small shiver down your spine. All you could do was nod, silently. 

“Then you must be out of your fucking mind,” he hissed, fingers biting painfully into the meat of your hip, body still pressed heavily into yours. “The hell are you doing giving someone like me something this precious?”

“It’s…it’s not though?” 

Hyunjin raised a challenging eyebrow at you.

“I mean…yes, I’ve never been with anyone before, but why does it matter?” Your words came out in a gasp, almost jumbled - mind and body craving what had been so abruptly interrupted, the pull strong enough for you to blurt out your true feelings…all of them. “I want you, Hyunjin - I want you, and I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you right now.” 

The iciness of Hyunjin’s gaze wavered, melted just a smidge. His death grip on your hip morphed into a heavy, possessive pressure; his thumb started rubbing circles into that sensitive crease separating your thigh from your waist. “Why?”

You could barely string the words together at this point - but you knew they had to be said. “I…I was alone, you were surrounded by your boys b-but - something made me feel like you were the only person in this club who felt the same…the same loneliness that I did.”

At that, his fingers stilled. Hyunjin’s eyes searched yours carefully - looking for what? You didn’t know. But whatever he found…it seemed to be satisfactory. For those long arms wound tightly around you once again, hiking you higher against the rough wall.  

“Fine. You can have it your way, angel.” And as his head dipped to your neck, lips bruising the signs of his lust onto your skin, a choked moan spilled forth from your lips as those slender hips snapped into yours - pushing his cock further into you, balls deep, stretching your sensitive walls beyond belief.

“So fucking tight,” he murmured hoarsely, now driving himself into you in a steady, punishing pace. “How much would it take to fuck you loose for the first time, hmm? Maybe I should take you home and test it out,” he mused, a chuckle just this side of unhinged bubbling forth from his lips. “Tie you down and fuck this sweet little pussy until it’s swollen and red and aching.” Even just the thought made you involuntarily clench down on him, drawing what was almost a growl out of his throat. “Such a good girl.”

And you? You were lost. With just a small shift in angle, Hyunjin’s cock was now sliding right against that sweet spot, deep inside you, his pubic bone grinding deliciously against your clit. The feeling of his lithe body caged in between your thighs, crushing you in against the wall; the sinful trail of fire his mouth was leaving along the delicate skin of your neck, your throat…if you’d known that this, this is what sex was like - you would’ve had it long, long ago.

…But a little voice told you that - this might just be sex with Hyunjin that felt like this. 

And with that, it wasn’t long before you shattered in his arms, heels digging into his back as the peaks of your pleasure rolled over you - only to scream as Hyunjin’s large hands slammed you down against him, impaling you fully on his cock as, with a throaty groan, he filled you full, hot cum splattering against your sore, sensitive walls. 

There was a beat of silence, with only the sounds of heavy breathing to break the still. As you leaned your head back against the wall, struggling to come back down from your high, you could feel Hyunjin’s gaze burning through you. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered, as if just to himself. You blinked your eyes open to see him watching you - but something about the way he was looking at you had changed. Where before they’d been fiery, filled with unambiguous lust, desire, cockiness - that frenzy had given way to something more…profound. Like he was trying to see you, see through you - see you for who you really were. 

You hated to break the moment - but now that you weren’t burning up with lust, the very physical ramifications of being fucked up against a wall were making themselves known to you. You danced your fingers over Hyunjin’s collarbone. “Can you…”

He snapped out of whatever trance he was in, hands surprisingly gentle as they cupped your thighs, supporting your weight as he let you down from the wall. When you stumbled on landing, the strength in your legs failing you, he steadied you against him. 

“Does it hurt?” His voice was gruff, clearly masking some emotion he didn’t want you to see.

“Pretty sore, yeah,” you admitted with a wry smile. “But hey - makes it more memorable, right?”

It seemed like he wasn’t expecting that flippant of a response from you, for the next thing he blurted out was - “Romantic fool.”

You could tell he hadn’t meant to be so abrasive, a cloud of regret immediately passing over his face, but you knew what he meant. 

“It’s okay,” you told him, shrugging it off. “I know I am and that I shouldn’t-”

You stopped when you felt soft fingers under your chin, lifting your head back up. Hyunjin looked deep into your eyes, the corner of his plush mouth upturned in a crooked smile. “It takes one to know one, angel.”

He bit his lip, hesitating. It looked he wanted to, was about to say something more - but then…

“Well, well���and what do we have here? A stray dog rutting in an alleyway, tsk tsk...” An arrogant, menacing voice called out from the darkness, accompanied by the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps - of more than one person. 

“Fuck,” Hyunjin spat out, blue eyes narrowed in icy fury. “These assholes don’t know what’s good for them.” You watched as he transformed in front of you, back into that cold, dangerous - honestly sexy - mafioso. 

“You need to get out of here, angel - I don’t want those fuckers to get even a glimpse of you.” Hyunjin passed his hands over you, quickly, efficiently straightening out your clothes and his. “Can you do one thing for me? Run back to the boys and tell them that the fucking pirates are sailing in. I’m gonna need backup here.” You nodded quickly, knowing you - and he - didn’t have much time. 

Just as you turned to run away though, Hyunjin caught your hand in his, stopping you. “I…I’ll come find you, okay?” His voice was pitched low, serious in tone. You could tell he meant what he said…at least, for now. You murmured a soft agreement before making your escape. 

Luckily, Hyunjin’s boys were still where you left them. You decided to go up to the one in the middle, the one with muscles straight out of a GQ magazine, who was watching you waddle back into the bar with a knowing smirk plastered across his face. 

Bicep Boy - you might as well call him that - spoke first. “Boss still recovering?” 

You felt yourself flush with embarrassment. For a brief second, you wondered what they thought of you - wondered how many times they’d seen Hyunjin do this exact thing. The thought sent a sudden shudder of jealousy through you - but that wasn’t important right now.  

“No - he, um, he sent me to get you guys. There’s a few guys outside…and he wanted me to tell you that, uh, the pirates are sailing in?”

You startled back as their relaxed, nonchalant attitude disappeared in a flash, the three of them jumping to their feet immediately. “Fucking hell,” the man in front of you hissed, looking pissed as he fished around for a tip to throw on the bar. “Those motherfuckers just can’t stay in line, can they?”

“Wait…” the man next to him, almost drowning in a fancy mink coat, piped up abruptly. “If hyung sent her back to us…does someone need to walk her back?” The three men paused for a second, the weight of their gaze prickling as they turned to look at you again, size you up. 

“No no,” you protested. “I’ll take care of myself - they couldn’t have gotten a good look at me anyways. I’d rather you go back Hyunjin up...make sure nothing happens to him.”

From their approving looks, you’d clearly passed some sort of test. “Take this then,” the third man, silent until now, shoved a ball of fabric into your hands - Hyunjin’s abandoned coat. “That dress stands out too much - and I’m sure the boss’ll be getting it back from you soon.”

And with a surprisingly warm, friendly smile - he and the others were off. 

You were left standing at the bar, with an expensive, bulky coat in your arms and the eyes of most of the club on you. With nothing else to do, you slunk your way out of the club, just as you had looked forward to doing just a short while ago…

But why did it now feel so disheartening?

And…here you were. Alone, at home, on a weekend night - again.

You’d just curled up on your couch, idly watching TV - not because you particularly wanted to, but more because sleep had deserted you. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could feel was the ghost of Hyunjin’s touch - his body against yours, his lips, his fingers on your body. 

You shook yourself off. Maybe some ice cream would help, you mused, shoving off the blankets you’d just tucked yourself into to get up. 

But then - the doorbell rang. 

For a second, you froze. You and your roommate never really had visitors…and the fear that maybe someone had followed you home from that alleyway flitted through you. 

On the other hand though…what if it was him?

Taking a deep breath, you made your way to the door. Keeping the chain hooked, you slowly pulled it open, just a crack - and were immediately rewarded with the sight of those already familiar, icy blue eyes. 

Hyunjin. 

“I’ll…I’ll leave this second if you want me to,” he started, fingers fidgeting with his bracelets. “But I just felt that we left some things…unfinished back there.”

You agreed, but even if you didn’t - you weren’t going to miss out on this. 

Quietly, you let him in. Even though you were positive shit went down after you left, Hyunjin looked perfectly fine - statuesque, just as before. When you gestured to an armchair, he shook his head. “I think I want to stay standing for now.”

Your heart sunk. Maybe seeking you out, coming all the way to your apartment…wasn’t to make the gesture that you thought. Maybe this was just an apology, an attempt to tie things off between you, neatly, permanently, with a bow on top. Maybe…

Shuffling slowly back to your couch, you sat down and waited for him to speak. 

“I…I don’t do this often. I know what it might look like, but…I don’t really sleep around, chase after women just looking for a quick fuck. That’s not who I am…and that’s not what I want you…or this to be.”

At your sharp inhale, he took half a step away from you - his eyes solemn, searching yours to see what he could find. He bit his lip. “This is so selfish of me, I know…but I’d-I’d like to see you again. Take you out somewhere, more formally…as you deserve.”

“Why is that selfish?” A little bud of hope had flowered in your heart…but you were still confused by his hesitance.

He took a second to respond. “You’ll be a target, you know,” he murmured quietly, gazing down at his clasped hands. “I know a lot of dark people - and they wouldn’t give a shit about…using you to get at me. Being seen with me, being with me…you’ll never feel safe again.”

Slowly, you stood up and walked over to him. Standing right in front of him without your heels, without the wall hiking you up against him, you had to tilt your head back to actually look at his face full on - though his eyes still wouldn’t meet yours. And so, you did, running your hands carefully up his arms to rest on his shoulders. 

“Then why do I feel the safest I’ve ever been, Hyunjin, standing here in front of you?”

At that, his head snapped up, finally looking at you directly. 

“I want to try this,” you told him, your voice calm and steady. “I would love to…do something more formal with you too. And…” your voice wavered, as you gathered your confidence in turn, “maybe you could stay with me for a bit tonight too?”

You wished you had a camera to capture how Hyunjin’s face lit up - how those plush lips curved, eyes crinkled up in a genuine, warm smile. “I would love to.” You felt your heart stutter, your own lips curving in response. 

“Well then,” you dusted your hands off, putting on a business-like air for him. “Let’s get you settled first. Want me to make you something? Or is there anything you want to make?”

“I’m useless in a kitchen,” he told you, cracking a sheepish grin. “But I can whip up a mean ice cream sundae.”

So, that’s what he did. You let him make you that sundae - which really was good. You sat side-by-side and watched three episodes of drama, sharing your ice cream in increasingly comfortable, companionable silence. Hyunjin didn’t need to know how much of that time you spent watching him, your lips quirking at just how caught up he got in the show.

You let him take you back to your bed, let him thoroughly, passionately destroy any innocence you had left with every weapon he had at his disposal - his fingers, his lips, his tongue, his cock. Once you’d gotten your fill of each other - once you let him take you and take you again until your cunt was sore and swollen, your thighs quivering from exhaustion - you laid there together in your bed - naked, your head on his chest, his arm tentatively, carefully wrapped around your waist. 

And then…he talked. About how he’d dreamed of being a painter, an artist one day…before his world as he knew it went up in literal flames. About how he would gladly kill - and die - for his boys, his strays, who’d banded around him, put their trust in him when he was nothing. About how being the boss, being the top was lonely - was stressful, painful and exhilarating, all at once. 

By the end, you could tell he was exhausted; his body had drifted down against yours, his head now cocooned against your breasts, and you both were doing your best to pretend the droplets of moisture on your chest were sweat. But still, he listened to you too, never making you feel like your problems - your purposelessness, your friendlessness, your inability to make your own dreams reality - were too mundane or unworthy, even compared to his. 

Finally, you let him pull your weary body against his, curl his lanky torso around yours. “I’ve never slept the night in someone else’s bed before,” Hyunjin offered up, voice soft and vulnerable in your ear. “That makes two of us,” you whisper back, running your fingers up and down the arm wrapped around your waist. He tugged you a little closer in response - and closer still as he fell asleep, taking you underneath with him. 

Part of you had been nervous about going to sleep - in case you woke up just to find that…this had all been a dream. That you were alone, as always, in your cold bed - that you had no lover to wake up to. 

Those fears were dashed the second you woke up and felt Hyunjin’s warm presence still behind you. You rolled over slowly - only to find him already awake, watching you with a small smile. He was a study of contrasts in the pale morning light: soft, pouty lips; mussed hair - bruised knuckles; dark, swirling tattoos. He was beautiful, and - at least, for this morning, for now - he was yours. 

You shoved him headfirst in to the shower, and while he cleaned up and squeezed himself back into those delectably tight clothes from last night, you worked your ass off to make a feast for breakfast. It was worth it though - at least, the shy eye smile, the soft “thank you” that he gave you in response...it was worth it. 

And that’s how your roommate found you when she came back: the two of you perched on your rickety kitchen stools, Hyunjin’s arm now wrapped comfortably around you as the two of you giggled over a drunk video - a music video? - Bicep Boy (Hyunjin had laughed at you, telling you his name was Changbin) and the other two had fucked around shooting last night. 

“Oh!” She gasped. You whipped your head around to watch her do a literal double take at the sight of you and Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin stood up with a yawn, deliberately stretching himself to his full height. “I was just leaving.” You bit back a grin - sure, he might be shy, introverted at his core…but when he wanted to, Hyunjin definitely knew how to put on a show. So you just smiled fondly as, with a lascivious little wink, he leaned down to give you a whopping goodbye smooch, with tongue for good measure. He’d clearly listened to your retelling of your roommate’s role in this whole ordeal. 

“Bye, angel. I’ll text you.” And with a poignant look and a final squeeze of your hands, Hyunjin was off. You almost wanted to pinch yourself as another test, again. But before that - you had something - or someone - to deal with first. 

“Is that…”

“Yes,” you nodded. “The date you set me up with…didn’t pan out, but I ran into Hyunjin at the same club.”

“Looks like you did a little more than run into him alright,” a small, teasing smirk on her face as she looked you up and down. “That’s funny though. I used to…see one of the other guys from SKZ, a long while back…” she trailed off, lost in thought for a second. “It’s a long story,” she sighed, “but anyways…” She shook her head, turning her attention back squarely to you. “You and Hwang Hyunjin, eh? How’d it happen?”

“It’s a long story,” you smiled back up at her, before taking a deep breath. If you’d gained any perspective from what you’d spilled to Hyunjin last night, it would be that the only person who could lift you out of your loneliness…was you. “Wanna talk about it over breakfast?”

She stilled for a second, but you watched happily as a slow smile crept across her face.

“Let’s do it.”

As you got up to make her a plate, you heard a relatively unfamiliar sound - your phone buzzing from not just one, but multiple texts.  

> Hyunjinnie: Same time, same place this Friday?

> Hyunjinnie: If I can make it that long without you…

> Hyunjinnie: ❤️

You didn’t think your heart still had flutters left to give after everything that had happened…but here it was, flittering away. You responded in kind, telling Hyunjin you’d be counting down the days on your end too - and that was the honest truth. 

You’d just sat down again, about to pick up your fork, when your phone let out one final buzz. 

> Hyunjinnie: (Oh, and bring that roommate of yours too. I’m sure your ~Bicep Boy~ would be happy to see her 😉)

It took everything you had in you to keep a delighted giggle from spilling out past your lips. You eyed your roommate, who had a faraway look in her eyes as she methodically buttered her slices of banana. 

Things sure were gonna be interesting around here - and you were so looking forward to keeping it that way. 

[peachsayshi]

Heyaa peachieee

Are you gonna be continuing the brother's bff geto series ? I like it a lot can't wait to see what happens next 😩❤️

“whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same”

⊱ ─── [ ❦ ] ─── ⊰

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ older brother’s best friend geto x female reader ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  minors / ageless / blank blogs (dni)  ↬･tags: (part 1/part 2)tension; alcohol; reader is gojo's sister; reader has a big fat crush on geto; size difference; working on the next part just figuring out which direction to go ~

⥽ notes: nonnie! I'm glad you asked because I've had this simmer in my head since I wrote the last part. For those who asked, I will update my ex husband geto series next, and then inexperienced reader x geto <3

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You sway your hips to the beat of the song, the sparkling beads adorning your chest shimmer underneath dim lights. Champagne bubbles pop in your veins, orchestrating the arch and writhe of your sensual movements in the middle of the crowded room. You aren’t paying any attention to the unwanted stares zoning in on your group, too blissed out on the high of achieving another successful milestone in your life.

Graduation arrived faster than you expected. With the ceremony now just a couple of weeks away, you find yourself gifted with all the free time in the world, leaving behind the stress of your assignments and finals but you’re so happy to make it to the end of this long, winding road.

Your friend tugs you close to her chest, her sparkling dress matching your top and your other friend's skirt, and gives you a gentle kiss on the cheek. She’s singing loudly, her inebriated mind making her jumble up the lyrics in a cute manner. You sing along with her, trying to guide her as you hold her cheeks in the palm of your hands and heartily belt out the tune. Two hands then find your waist, and your other friend spins you back towards her to keep on dancing. You circle your arms around her neck, and playfully whine against her as the scent of alcohol and perfume filters the air around you. You don’t even know if your make up is still snatched or if the setting spray you had applied earlier has waned against the sweat misting off your body.

For whatever you don’t even care.

You’ve spent the last four months burying yourself deep into your work, and tonight is about rewarding yourself and living in the moment.

You wanted nothing more than to do just that.

“I’m going to get some water, would you like some?” you hoarsely speak into your friend’s ear, your throat constricting from the tension around your vocal chords.

“Yes, please! We’ll wait for you right here!”

You sashay through the sea of strangers, avoiding the eyes taking in your risqué outfit. You knew that your silver backless top would garner a lot of attention, the fabric only held together by two thin straps around your neck and lower back. However, you liked the change to your usual style of clothing, and looked fantastic on the flattering pair of black pants that you had on while matching perfectly with your platform heels.

Your ears buzz from the sensory imbalance when you leave the underground dance floor and walk upstairs to the bar with the hard thumping bass muffling as you are now surrounded by softer, upbeat tones.

The entire room is packed.

You've only been down for a couple of hours, but you're taken aback at how quickly the bar hit capacity. You shouldn’t be surprised after all, considering that this establishment is the latest hot spot in the city…

… and, of course you would spot him out of the crowd of people.

Suguru is leaning against the bar looking more formal than usual. He is wearing a button down white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and showing off his intricate tattoos underneath. He has on sleek tailored pants, the color mirroring the length of his hair dripping down his back like ink pressing into paper, and the front of his bangs are tied back to reveal that perfectly handsome face which had heads turning at every angle.

Alarm bells ring in the back of your mind, but thankfully you’re relieved to figure out that your brother, Satoru, isn’t around.

Suguru is hanging out with his other friends...the ones you don’t know very well and only met for the first time on the night of his twenty-eighth birthday.

There is a guy with bluish gray hair, who has pretty features and an interesting scar on his face, but upon recognizing him you immediately remember Utahime’s cautionary words to be mindful.

Then there is a second guy whose face isn’t one to forget due to all his piercings and how his hair is styled into two little space buns, and despite his somewhat dissociative expression, he looked like he could pass as Suguru’s brother. 

The memory of the party flashes through your mind in between your stunned blinks.

That night was the last time you saw Suguru in person. 

After your emotional reaction to watching him kiss somebody else, you thought that avoiding your crush might be the best solution to heal your wounded heart. The only contact you’ve had with Suguru since then has been via text, but even then you were trying your best not to linger in conversation with him.

You still have no idea who that woman was, and shudder at the possibility of Suguru potentially being romantically involved with somebody else.

Suddenly, dark eyes fall on yours and the room around you grows quiet. The music fades into the distance as bodies blur together like colors on an artist’s palette. The only person remaining still is the man before you, standing tall and prominent, with the environment glowing around him like a halo and reminding you that you are simply just a foolish girl who forgot to pull out cupid’s arrow.

You rip your eyes away immediately, the adrenaline forcing you to turn your heel and walk over to the other side of the bar where everything floods back in, where the booming chatter and loud song collides into your ribs and leaves you breathless. 

Your heart starts racing - the bar area appears much smaller than it initially seemed when you first walked upstairs but you finally make it to the counter and rest both your elbows on the edge as a way to steady your feet.

You catch the bartender’s attention, who is busy pirouetting between jotting down orders and mixing drinks, while trying your best to ignore his piercing gaze barreling through from the opposite side of the counter.

“Can I get three bottles of water, please?” you speak loudly, having to repeat yourself just one more time to make sure that the bartender heard you.

You only have a couple of minutes of peace before your spine goes rigid. A shocking cold crawls up each vertebrae, and a tickling drip of water cascades down your back which is swiftly brushed away by a gentle graze of knuckles.

You glance over your shoulder to find him right behind you.

“S-Suguru…”

The space between your shoulder blades is burning from the icy contact, and the man sweetly smiles in your direction as he pulls away his cold beer from your back.

This is only testing your patience. 

“I thought that it was you,” he says as he places his drink down onto the counter. “I almost didn’t recognize you for a minute…”

You part your lips to reply, but your words catch in your throat. You anxiously shift from one foot to the next, desperately mustering up a quick reason to excuse yourself, but a stranger from behind bumps right into your shoulder at that exact moment which causes you to lose your balance.

Suguru’s hand finds your waist immediately to steady you, his palm rests on the fabric of your top while his fingers catch your exposed flesh. Your skin tingles from his touch, making your cheeks burst with a warmth that has you feeling unusually hot.

The worst part is you feel like he can see how your body is betraying you in this way as his sharply pries you open bit by bit.

His gaze falls to your chest, and he arches his brow slightly when he glances over your outfit, a hint of a smile curling his lip before returning to face you.

“Now what would Satoru say if he saw you in this, hmmm?” he teases, his digits innocently pinching into your soft flesh.

“You’re not going to say anything to him, right?” you stammer immediately as you force the words right out of you.

The last thing you needed was a rant from your overprotective brother.

Suguru shakes his head, “of course not, what Satoru doesn’t know won’t hurt him, I’ll let you have your fun...”

You aren't quite sure if it's the way you can practically taste him on the tip of your tongue, or the lingering alcohol that makes the room around you spin, but statement makes your own eyes fall to his lips with the memory of the way he kissed you now swirling in your mind.

“Are you here alone?” he asks seriously, and as if he can read your thoughts, he slowly drops his hand by his side before taking another step forward to seal the gap of space to prevent causing traffic to the people walking back and forth behind him. 

“I’m here with my friends,” you explain, feeling like a caged little bird trapped between him and the bar, “they are downstairs…”

“Three waters!” the bartender interrupts as he slides over the bill.

Suguru is quick to push back the check in the bartender’s direction, “put whatever she wants on my tab,” he announces, and the statement only makes you feel even more self conscious.

“You got it,” the bartender replies with a thumbs up.

Suguru assists in handing you the bottles of water, and you stammer over your words once more when you speak.“T-Thanks, but you really don’t have to do that...”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies with a wink, “it’s good seeing you. I’ll let you get back to your friends.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Your heart doesn’t stop spinning, and neither do you - so, you dull your senses with more drinks. You're not drunk enough to forget that the man you are infatuated with is hanging out just a floor above you, but you are nicely buzzed not to care about how the close proximity messes with your feelings.

Everything is a hazy blur until a few of the main lights start to flicker. The establishment is signaling their first warning that they will be closing soon and as the most sober(ish) person in your party, you take it upon yourself to lure your two friends back upstairs so you can all head home.

The three of you stumble out of the entrance. You’re holding onto your friend’s waist, while the other spins out in the middle of the sidewalk like the music never left her feet.

“Where to next?” she squeals a bit too loudly, and you sassily pull out your phone to show her the Uber application.

“Back home,” you reply, and she pouts like a child whose toy has just been snatched away.

“Boring,” your other friend mumbles, the weight of her body falling onto your shoulder and you almost collapse as you try to keep her upright.

You furrow your brows to check for the quickest pick up, but the earliest ride you can find is fifteen minutes away.

“Need a lift?”

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest, an echo reverberating around your ribcage and reaching all the way to the tip of your fingers. You swallow the tiny lump in your throat as you raise away from the blue light to put a face to that very familiar voice.

“Whose this?” your first friend mumbles, while the other stares at Suguru keenly with her mouth slightly agape.

“My brother’s best friend,” you mutter awkwardly before proceeding to decline his offer, “it’s alright, the Uber should be here soon.”

“And my car is parked just up the street,” he reassures calmly as he tilts his chin towards the direction of his vehicle before sliding both hands in his pocket.  “You don’t have to worry, I just had the one beer earlier when I saw you but I haven’t been drinking…”

“Say yes, he’s really cute…” your friend with interested eyes that have not left Suguru’s, whispers quietly into your ear. 

“I can’t help but agree with her,” Suguru smartly replies with a shrug, and that easy smile which makes his face glow as your friend giggles like a teenager. 

You can’t help but shoot her a frustrated glare.

“I don’t want to intrude on your evening…”

Suguru huffs out a laugh, finding it cute that you are adamant on getting your way, before refuting that “it is not an intrusion at all, besides, Satoru would kill me if he knew that I just left you behind..."

Grinning thoughtfully in your direction, he made his final plea.

"Just cancel the ride. I’ll get you girls home in no time…”

You do as you're told because you’re too exhausted to protest otherwise. 

The three of you follow Suguru to his car. He's a gentleman holding the backseat door open for your two friends, extending his hand out as he helps each of them climb inside. You can see how easily besotted they were by this act, but it only makes your chest tighten with envy.   

You almost follow suit but hesitate when Suguru steps in the way.

“Want to sit up front?”

You can feel your worn, drained heart climb up from out of your throat and grip your face with its weak hands to beg you to decline. You should be trying to shield yourself from him, but how are you expected to resist with that kind of softness oozing from his soulful irises?

No wonder he gets so much attention, you think, convinced that he’s somehow cracked the code on how to hypnotize the most vulnerable of hearts with a single look. 

You nip at the inside of your cheek anxiously but mindlessly nod yes in agreement.

Suguru shuts the door to the backseat.

You settle yourself in the front seat of his car breathing in the scent of sage with a hint of tobacco and shiver at the memory of how close you were when inhaled this scent last while his body was on top of yours. 

The car itself is clean overall, but Suguru has always been meticulous about keeping everything in its place, unlike your brother who lived in a world of organized chaos.  Sometimes you can’t help but compare the two of them, like you're trying to understand the details of how they complete one another while still being total opposites.

Your eyes fall to the decorative piece hanging from the front view mirror where you see a tiny polaroid framed within a wonky design.

There’s Suguru, who looks about your age, with the brightest grin on his face and whiskers painted on his cheeks. He is wearing black cat ears to match his two younger step-sisters, Mimiko and Nanako, who are also in the picture and are happily snuggled up in his arms. 

“The girls made it for me,” he says, his voice low enough for just you to hear.

“Gosh, they look so young…”

“About four years old. This was a year after my mom got remarried…”

You flash him a smile, trying your best to ignore the way your body is currently simmering over such casual conversation. “It’s a really cute photo, Sugu”

He quirks his brow with amusement, a tender expression masking his face. "I'll show you the rest of them some other time…"

You subconsciously clench your thighs together, startled by the idea of you and your crush cozying up on a sofa while he shows you memories to the pieces of his life that you rarely ever get to see. 

Despite your heart beating just a bit faster at the thought, your mind immediatelninterjects as a cautious reminder not to read into the situation.

Suguru fastens his seat belt, and quickly peaks over his shoulder to check on your two friends.

“Are you girls comfortable?”

“Yes, we are! Thanks again for the ride, uhm…erm…brother’s friend, uh…” one of you friends mumbles in an attempt to fish out his name.

“Suguru,” he politely replies then turns on the ignition.

“Thanks for the ride, Su-gu-ruu!” she repeats with exaggeration but for whatever reason it only feeds into your embarrassment.

“Hey, isn’t that…” your other friend intervenes innocently as she arches forward to rest her chin on your chair. “Isn’t that also the name of the guy you have a crush on?”

The weight of the world descends upon you the . Your body gradually shrinks in size, and you can feel yourself growing smaller and smaller as the seconds pass in silence.The slip of her tongue makes your eyes widen, and you ball your hands up into tight fists to form crescents in your palms as you anxiously clench your jaw. 

Suguru’s face perks up instantly, and his movements slow down as one hand shifts to find the wheel while the other puts the car in reverse. 

The air feels far too light, making it impossible for you to breathe. You know he heard that question, loud and clear, but you’re too mortified to even look at those magnetizing eyes. You can feel the heat of his stare unravel you, but you swiftly spin your head to face the busy streets and blurry lights just outside your window.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

[cmdrfupa]

Bone Appetit

I couldn't leave this little ditty alone, so enjoy a little babble of a drabble over our favorite sleepy defense attorney.

MDNI suggestive content ahead

"And here I thought you didn't love me." Your husband took a deep breath as you walked into his office. A pleasant surprise in the form of you, Hiromi's loving spouse, closing the door before sashaying around his desk. You kissed the top of his dark head as the shuffling of papers across his desk started. "Romance could never be dead when Mrs. Higuruma lives and breathes."

You unveiled the glass food carrier, revealing the still-warm sauteed garlic and parmesan mushrooms on a bed of rice and a side of grilled chicken. "Traffic coming off the ramp was nuts. Had to take a few of the backroads to get into the city's center." The room was filled with the delightful anticipation of the meal, a moment of shared joy between you and Hiromi.

  A faux-pitiful look came across Hiromi's face, rubbing the slight pudge of a belly he adorned. "I had one of those BBQ tacos not long ago. I don't know if I can eat another thing."

"Thank you, my darling wife. Your culinary skills never cease to amaze me, princess. Perhaps we could venture into the city this weekend to find new furniture for the den because you are literally the ?" The exaggerated mocking tone you used to tease Hiromi brought an amused smile to his face as he watched you prepare his meal.

The first late night of the week as another case muddled with his mind. Choosing to extend the grace he permanently extended to you during grad school, you packed dinner to bring it to him.

You placed the napkin in his lap, and Hiromi's hand gently caught your chin. "Thank you, honey. I truly appreciate this dinner." His words carried a genuine sense of gratitude as he placed a delicate kiss on the corner of your mouth.

You're very welcome, my love. Now, eat your food, old man."

  Hiromi devoured every bit of food as you shared the details of your day with him - from the ongoing drama in Pilates class to the neighborhood association's new discussions on how long Christmas lights should be allowed to stay up to his impressive towel-folding skills before heading to work.

  "Hm? Oh," he said as he wiped his mouth, "I just did it while my shirt was drying this morning. It's not a big deal, really."

  Clearing his desk of your containers, you snapped the lids on before placing them back into your tote. "Romi, you folded them perfectly. Every hem aligned, every edge folded over to hide the tag. I've trained you well."

  "Trained? So, I get a treat for flawlessly following your directions?" You sat gracefully in front of Hiromi at his desk, crossing your legs at the ankle while he lazily traced his spidery fingers up and down your calves with a playful smirk. "I think your favorite man deserves a nice treat, no?"

  "Mmm, not my favorite." You leaned forward, running your fingers through his soft hair. "My good boy is the one who gets a special treat for his more than-perfect work. Are you a good boy, Hiromi?'

  While he wasn't a medical professional, he was more than confident what he was experiencing was a cardiac event. A surge of energy shot through him, going straight to his lap. What the fuck was happening? "Am I?" the hint of curiosity drizzled in his tone.

  "You are." Hiromi stood between your legs, squeezing the fleshiest parts of your thigh as you watched his usual pale skin take on a ruddy complexion. "You're my good boy. My very good boy."

[gabessquishytum]

Hob doesn't really like working bachelor parties. His experiences aren't nearly as bad as his female stripper friends, but tips can some times be spotty and depending on the crowd, he might get more hassled than likes on a job.

When he gets a bachelor party gig at the most high end hotel in town, he's not holding out much hope - tips might be good, but rich guys tend to be dicks to/with male strippers. So Hob was prepared for anything when he walked into that Presidential Suite, or so he thought. He was NOT prepared for the hottest guy he had ever seen to be scowling through his first lap dance.

Hob has been a stripper for long enough that he makes it a practice to no longer f*uck "clients". Too many people have aggressive buyers remorse and Hob doesn't have time for the drama anymore - he's looking to get out of the game and is saving up the last bit of money to get his food truck.

Maybe he spends the night, dancing and giving the eye to that pretty boy who getting married in a few days; maybe he clocks pretty boy's reciprocal interest and slips his number in a pocket (down pretty boy's pants during a second raunchier dance); maybe Hob makes plans to head back over the next day. Maybe he'll even get a name. 😉

Woohoo yes!! Love me some stripper Hob action.

Dream is so mad because his terrible, terrible friends have not only forced him to have a bachelor party, but have also hired a stripper. It's literally the last thing Dream wants, it's not like the marriage is something to celebrate. He doesn't love Alex or even respect him. But Cori and Matthew force him to stay for the "party" (its only them, Dream, Dream’s big sister and little brother, and Jo Constantine who literally only came for the booze). And the stripper is, at least, cute.

He does some dances for the party guests first, forcing Dream to wait and pretend that he's not interested anyway. The stripper is way more Dream’s type than Alex, and Dream can't help watching as he laughs and circles his hips over Cori's lap. Finally he sashays over to where Dream is sitting. He's down to a pair of tight red booty shorts and a matching crop top which show alluring curls of chest hair.

The dance for Dream is much more sophisticated than what he did for the other guests. He's not messing around or teasing. Each movement is sensual, and when he finally crawls into Dream’s lap and peels off his crop top, his eyes are blazing with heat. Dream hears himself whimper, which draws a smirk to the stripper's pretty scarlet lips.

"You can touch my arse." He purrs into Dream’s ear. "If you promise to be a good boy." And Dream can't resist. He cups his palms over the perky cheeks and endures the wolf whistles from the other guests - only the fact that his siblings are in the room stops him from literally coming when the stripper's confident hand squeezes and fondles the bulge in his trousers.

Eventually the time is up and Hob - that's his name, and now Dream will never forget it, cheerily packs up his things.

"You'll find my card tucked into your fly." He murmurs to Dream, as he hands over a huge wad of cash tips. "If you require my services to celebrate your divorce. Or if you want to see what's under the shorts." And he winks.

Dream should obviously steer clear of him. But he's definitely not going to.

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Rewind, Remix, & Replay Jay & Kim (Bonus) Med 4x6

Read the rest of the series here

This didn’t come out exactly the way I wanted but it will do. NSFW content below! Sorry about the wait. I think writer block is slowly setting in.

Jay had been working on Will’s Bachelor party for weeks. Kim thought it was a good thing considering the friction between the brothers. Jay had been putting a lot of effort into it even though he felt the fact that it was combined with Natalie's bachelorette party and the costume theme was ridiculous. Kim had to agree with the first one- if she ever did end up getting married, she was going out with a bang with all of her girlfriends. The second part however she vehemently disagreed.

She loved Halloween and to dress up. Her attempt to get Jay to do matching costumes had been a complete flop. He was going in a black suit no matter what Kim said. She had decided to pick something dressy to kind of match him. Jessica Rabbit has seemed like the obvious choice and easy to come up with. A red dress with a cut clean up to the hip, red heels and lipstick, and purple arm-length gloves. Jay had stopped and stared when she had entered the venue a low whistle escaping his lips as he eyed her figure appreciatively.

He had come early to finish getting everything ready before all the guests arrived. The party had been in full swing for about an hour now. The place was packed with doctors, nurses, police officers, firefighters, and other friends and family. Everyone was indulging in food, alcohol, and conversation.

Kim was trying to mingle with Natalie after congratulating her on her upcoming wedding. The woman was all smiles but the encounter was awkward. Kim had been trying her best to gain a semblance of friendship with her to no avail. She planned on being with Jay indefinitely. If she and Nat were going to continue spending hockey game nights and holidays together being on friendly terms seemed the best option. That being said the two of them just didn’t seem to click.

Kim downed the last few gulps of her drink to aid the awkwardness she was feeling. “Hey baby,” Kim turned with a start to see Jay. A huge smile took over her face, and she leaned forward for a kiss. Jay pushed back a few tendrils of her hair and pressed another peck to her lips. He slides behind her, his hands wrapped around her waist as they start rocking together to the beat. “Have I told you how incredibly sexy you look in that dress?” The words are whispered against her neck his stubble scraping her skin.

Kim tilted her to give him better access a soft hum of delight leaving her lips. She leans back into him her hands caressing his arms. He kisses her shoulder pulling her tighter back against him. His touch sends a pleasant heat to her lower stomach. Kim feels sexy and the buzz from the alcohol makes her feel bold. She turns in his arms breathing the words against his lips, “You should see what is underneath.”

She slips out of his arms leaving him stunned. Kim only gives him one heated backward glance as she slips around the corner and into the bathroom. Less than a minute passes before Jay joins her. She watches him flip the lock. She sashays slowly over to him stopping only inches from him.

He is on her in an instant. His hand grabs her face and tilts it the way he wants it. His lips are hungry, dominating their kiss. He backs her into the wall and she gasps into his mouth as the chill of the brick hits her skin. His arms cage her in pressing himself tightly against her body. Kim can feel the hardness of his cock rubbing against her with every rock of his hips. Her hands grab at him in a frenzy feeling the muscles of his shoulders bunch as he grabs her thighs and lifts her. She moans wantonly into his mouth as her legs wrap around his waist.

His fingers find her hair tugging on the strands, knowing it drives her wild. Kim throws her head back and he assaults her neck with kisses. They make a path down to her breast flush with where the top of her dress lays. Kim presses down on his shoulders using it as momentum to rock herself more aggressively into him. Curses fall from his lips as his hands palm her ass squeezing it tightly.

Kim pushes the thin straps off of her shoulders allowing her dress to fall bunching at her stomach. Jay wastes no time in finding a nipple, his tongue swirling around the bud. Kim leans back pushing more of her weight against the wall as she arches her back. He leathers attention onto her aching breasts. Kim's eyes are half-lidded watching their forms in the mirror. It’s erotic and she feels a rush of arousal flood her. “Jay,” Her voice is sultry and husky and catches his attention instantly. “I want you to bend me over and fuck me in front of that mirror.”

He groaned, sliding her slowly down his body and back onto her feet. His left hand trailing purposely up her thigh where the slit of her dress reveals creamy pink skin. Kim pulls away from him to go to the counter in front of the mirror. Jay meets her eyes in the mirror as he undoes his belt and jeans as he strides toward her. He doesn’t waste his time removing clothes, he just pushes her dress up and his pants down enough for him to slide inside her. He groans when bare pale skin is revealed to him. No panties. “Are you trying to fucking kill me- but damn you are right- I love what’s underneath-fuck,”

Kim's senses go into overdrive as she arches back into him. Jay was always a tight fit but she is so wet it is an easy slide. She braces her hands on the counter as he starts thrusting roughly inside her. Her gaze drops and she cries out loudly when he shifts just enough the angle changes and hits an unexpectedly sensitive spot inside her. A flood of arousal soaks his cock and her thighs. His hand wraps around her neck squeezing just hard enough to get her attention. “You look at me when I’m fucking you this good.”

The words make her flush from her head to her toes. Her gaze finds his in the mirror again. When his hand starts to release pressure and edge away, she grabs his wrist forcing him to hold her neck tighter. He takes the cue wordless choking her just tight enough to restrict her air. His pace is brutal and they are both rapidly approaching their climaxes. Jay can feel Kim’s core fluttering around his cock. His other hand finds her clit and starts rubbing firm precise circles. Her moans get louder and his grip on her throat tightens. “Quiet or everyone will hear you. Or is that what you want? You want everyone to know how well I fuck you? How good I make you feel? How loud I can make you scream?”

“Jay,” Her cheeks were flushed a beautiful shade of pink, her knuckles white from the grip she had on the counter. Jay could feel her thighs trembling and she was leaning more of her weight against the counter her nipples rubbing against the marble of the countertops.

“That’s it, baby, say my name. Say my name as I make you come all over my cock.” Kim practically screamed his name as she finally came. Her core clenched hard around Jay’s dick as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over her. He continued fucking her through her orgasm and into his own.

He held her tighter as he caught his breath, leaning forward to place a gentle peck on the curve of her neck. Kim turns languishly in his arms leaning back against the counter with her hip. Her hands slide up his chest still fully clothed chest feeling his heartbeat pounding against her palm. Then she steals another slow lazy kiss. Jay fixes her dress, gently pulling the straps back over her shoulders before smoothly the fabric down her sides. He stops at her hips grabbing them and lifting her to sit on the counter.

Kim's hands shoot to his forearms in surprise a giggle echoing in the room. He cups her face using his thumbs to wipe away the red lipstick that had smeared off her lips. Jay leans his forehead against hers. “Kim, I-” His words were lost in a loud knock. Kim smothered another giggle against his throat.

[sagesolsticewrites]

sagey🥺🥺 my all time FAVORITE SOFTIE WRITER<333 personally i see prompt 8 on the “friends that act like a married couple” IS STEVE AND THE READER AND I LOVE THE CONCEPT OF IT🥺🥺

SHAWNIIII my love!!! That’s ABSOLUTELY a Steve prompt ahhhh I love it ☺️ also at the time of writing this I have had some wine so please excuse any spelling/grammar errors as a result of that fhdkhfjd

(oops this ended up being less “friends who act like a married couple” and more “already established relationship” 😅)

Prompt: "you're like my child, call me daddy.... nevermind, that sounds wrong”

One of the things Steve loved about you was your innocence.

Not in a creepy way, just… the way you didn’t hesitate to drop everything to join in on one of Dustin’s adventures, listened patiently as Eddie and Will rambled to you about their current D&D campaigns, cheered on Lucas at all of his basketball games, and let Max and El drag you around to every store in the mall. On more than one occasion you had been part of the pack of kids giggling as they visited him at Scoops Ahoy, not doing much to discourage the teasing about his uniform so much as being an eager participant — occasions that had more often than not ended with another tally under the “You Suck” heading on Robin’s board.

He shakes his head as the memories run through his head, a laugh escaping him as he returns his attention to playing nurse for the scrape on your knee.

“What?” You question, wincing slightly as he applies antibiotic ointment, “Is me being injured so entertaining to you? For your information, I absolutely could have won that race if it weren’t for that pothole—” you continue, referring to the bike race you had happily participated in with the kids.

“Nothing,” he laughs, nodding to the Band-Aid in his hand, “It’s just… I remember doing this for Will and Lucas and all of them.”

“Awwwe,” you grin, “I’m like one of the kids.”

Steve speaks without thinking as he digs around in the cabinet under the sink, focused on putting away the first aid kit. “You’re like my child, call me daddy—”

His face blanches as he stands, finally processing the words.

“Wait no nevermind, that sounds so wrong…”

You stand from your perch on the edge of the tub and step towards him, a smirk playing on your lips as you neatly brush past him.

“I mean… I can call you that if you really want me to.” you say softly, your voice pitching up into a flirty singsong.

And you’re gone, sashaying out the door, leaving him stunned in the middle of his guest bathroom.

The grin on your face only grows as you hear a muffled “… WHAT?” followed by the unmistakable sounds of your boyfriend scrambling after you.

Send in a request! Sage’s 1 Year Blogaversary Celebration 💚

[elfqueen006]

Mr. Haberdae (Ch.1)

Joseph Haberdae x Fem Reader

This is a bit of a "modern" Bluebeard retelling, or rather inspired by it and many other erotic thrillers~

Please enjoy <33

----

The door chimed open upon your entering. And following your first step was Caryl shoving your uniform into your face.

“Where the hell have you been!?” she yelled, startling a few of the patrons, which, now that you noticed, there were a lot today. Definitely more than your usual quota of customers. It was a full house!

Without thinking you answered, “I slept in.”

Caryl looked at you like you had an unusually large zit on your forehead. Her big brown eyes bulged out of her skull as her smudged red lips pulled into a tight line. She put her hands on her hips and you were extremely cautious of her sharp red nails digging uncomfortably into her pants. You were certain she was holding them back from your throat.

You opened your mouth to say that you’d get to work, but in the next second, she threw her arms above her head. “Oh, you slept in!” She hooted, “Well, why didn’t ya just say so?”

“Carrie, I’m sorry-”

“Now, why are you sorry? That’s good, you slept in! That’s real good that you did that!” 

Her face became redder as she rambled. Movements became more animated as she nodded and gave you a big ear-to-ear smile, though it was more the type that resembled a dog snarling. Her nose crinkled up and her neck was pulled the more she smiled. “You know what? You know something? I should have slept in today! It would’ve saved me so much stress. Hell, I could’ve come over and we would’ve had ourselves a fun little sleepover, y’know? A girl’s night — just us girls!!”

You wrung the fabric of the uniform in your hands that were getting clammier by the second.

But Caryl wasn’t done. She turned her head towards the bar where Dexter, your boss, and the diner’s bartender, stood. He was in the middle of preparing someone’s sundae when Caryl called his name.

“Hey Dex, wanna know something? (Name) slept in while we were packed on Valentine's Day!” Oh. Well, that explained the sudden increase in customers.

Dexter’s face fell, “Was she feeling bad?”

“Ya know what? I never asked!” Caryl whipped her head back towards you, a cartoonish concerned expression on her beet red face. “Were you, (Name)?”

The entire diner quieted, just as interested in what your answer would be. You cringed as you shook your head. Caryl then, turning back to your boss gave an exaggerated shrug. “Welp! What can you do?”

Dexter pursed his lips and went back to taking orders, though you didn’t miss the disappointed look in his eyes, making you feel a twinge of guilt.

“So um, what should I do now?”

Caryl pointed to a man in the far back. He was a big guy and drab looking in his secondhand corduroy jacket. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the rest of the diners who were either in their nicest day clothes or paired up with someone. He looked like a grifter. And while those weren’t uncommon in your area, you so rarely saw them outside of bars or street corners.

But one thing that overshadowed all of that was his striking blue hair.

“He got here ten minutes ago. Go over there and take his order,” she said. “I’m going to take my break. You can take the rest since you’re so rested up.” And with that, she turned on her heels and sashayed to the back of the diner.

You sighed. It was going to be a long shift.

—

Caryl had made her point. You could imagine her stumbling over her own heels trying to keep track of every order just like you were at the moment. Even when there wasn’t an order, there’d be a messy table left by a diner and you’d have to clean it up. You supposed that you were getting your just desserts, seeing as this was your fifth time in a month being late to your shift.

There was a family function coming up in a few weeks and your mother had been hassling you about bringing a guest. You’d brung plenty of friends in the past, Caryl included. But your mother was insistent that she’d rather you be seen with male company. You had no one in mind unfortunately. Thus, she kept you up all night with conversation that was 50 percent suitor picks, 40 percent nagging, and 10 percent actually asking about your day. Within all of that, you learned she’d also been telling your other family members you started dating as to “help you save face”.

“You’re just so pretty!” She said, “Pretty and intelligent! How do you think it makes me feel telling my sister that my only daughter is cooped up in her apartment, not enjoying life?”

You somewhat understood her point of view. Somewhat. Sure, with how hectic the city was, you had a habit of being overly cautious, and falling into comfortable patterns. But you really wish she considered your end of the little story she cooked up. It wasn’t as if your aunt and cousins didn’t talk to you. And you actually tell them what you do! Regardless of her attempt to make you look good, you’d both end up looking foolish!

What started as a sleeping off your mothers’ foolishness, became you getting careless with your work schedule.

As you’re cleaning off a table, you glance back at Dexter, still swamped with orders. The anxiety on his face makes your stomach churn and it dawns on you just how much you took advantage of his kindness. He’s a sweet but aged man who inherited the diner for his father, and while he insists he loves his job, you can tell he’s more than deserving of a break.

“Excuse me, ma’am. Another coffee?”

You could swear it was this man’s sixth cup of coffee. You guessed whatever was in his plans made for a lengthy day. And no matter how many times you approached him, the vibrancy of his hair seemed that much more so. You’ve heard of people going blonde or even brunette, but never blue. Maybe that scene from Grease was beginning to catch on in the city.

“You can just call me ‘waitress’, y’know. It’s way less offensive than ma’am.” You said, pouring the pitcher's contents into his mug.

The stranger raised a brow, “How is ma’am offensive?”

“It feels old.”

The man snorts, “Women.” he muttered.

“Yes, women.”

You looked him over for the first time since serving him. He’d looked pretty drab at first glance. But he had a nice soft face with a beauty mark in the right corner of his left eye, as well as a small dimple in his chin. His coiffed mullet that framed his face nicely. He might be what you call classically handsome if not for the eyebrow piercings and various tattoos.

Noticing your attraction to him, he leaned back on the booth. Eager to give your curious eyes a show as his jacket slid away from his shapely chest. It had a decent amount of hair on it. The kind you’d like to nuzzle into and sleep on at night while he held you tight…

“Well…if you don’t mind me asking. How old are you?” He asked.

“...Old enough.”

“What’s your version of ‘old enough’?”

“I dunno… twenty-something.”

“So, you’re twenty?”

“If I wanted you to know, I would've told you, right?”

Stranger scoffs in a good-natured way and turns to you with a big pure white smile. Your cheeks warm up and you feel yourself smile back, though your insides feel as if they're turning to jelly. He's probably had a ton of girls (or guys) fall victim to that smile. It's so photogenic, pleasant, and sweet. And his eyes betray an enticing bit of mischief. It's the kind of smile that should be in magazines and commercials.

Figuring your job here is done, you turn away with a brief word. But you can't help but feel like he's watching your back. You're still walking as you glance back – he is looking. 

You end up bumping hard into Caryl who was carrying a tray. Great. Just as she decides to help, that’s when you fuck it up. You dare look up at her and find her brown eyes are wide with white hot anger, but instead of laying those long claw-like acrylics on you she goes back to the employee break room. 

You hear the strangers’ laughter as you chase after your fuming co-worker.

—

It was pretty obvious you had a crush on the newest patron at the diner. Well, obvious to everyone but yourself. Caryl let you know that much when you came into work one day looking around and Joseph – the patrons’ name (which you learned with some unsubtle prodding) – was not there yet. Your mood was noticeably dim throughout your shift. You took orders and replied to patrons very curtly. As a result, Caryl ended up pulling you aside and made you take a break while she took on the rest of her shift. 

“I said I’m sorry, Caryl!” you whined. You knew that you were being unprofessional, but you hadn’t wanted your job to be in jeopardy because of it; you barely made as much in your regular hours as is.

“Nuh-uh! ‘Sorry don't cut it!” she said, “You need to kick that attitude when you come in here, (Name), you are not a child. Stop moping because some fella who can’t even afford a better jacket gives you bubble guts.”

“You mean butterflies..?”

“I know what I mean!” Caryl snapped. “That boy’s got your nose wide open and he’s not even any good.”

Your lip curled up in an indignant snarl, “You don’t even know him!”

“I know dudes like him. He likes the attention little girls like you give ‘im, and he always looks smug when you nearly fall over yourself to take his order. He’s trouble.”

You both went back and forth like that for a while. And of course you weren’t interested in a thing Caryl had to say. She wasn’t even that older than you despite her way of speaking and her height. She said she just had a lot of experience and made a lot of mistakes that she wished she hadn’t. You could understand that she had your best interest in mind – but that didn’t mean the same things would happen to you…

Ding!

You peeked out of the employee break room and who else should you see but Mr. Haberdae? Without even waiting for the go-ahead, you swiped your notebook and pen away from Caryl before skipping outside and up to his table.

It wasn’t like you were in love with the guy anyway. And if things got rough, that’s how life was right?

[queenofbaws]

Finally! I missed sss(o)s ㅠㅠ I dunno which duo to suggest, but here is a lyric prompt:

'The moment I carefully tasted it

Melting softly, that paradigm

You’re like like like a candy

You’re like like like a candy

The moment it’s touched, like cotton candy

Becoming sticky, that paradigm

You’re like like like a candy

Come on look me eye to eye

(You’re like cotton candy)

I don’t wanna wait, I want you lots

I don’t wanna waste a minute, come on babe (cotton candy)

Uh-uh you’re like a candy candy candy candy yeah'

I hope you're okay! Have a nice weekend!

To Mr. H's credit, carnival day had sounded like a good idea (had looked like a good idea too, once Abi had hung the banners and Dylan had strung up all the lights), but now that he was stuck handling cleanup duty, uh...yeah, Jacob was formally rescinding that opinion, thanks very much.

"This shit just...gets...everywhere," he grumbled, searching high and low for a towel, a napkin, a wet wipe, anything to help with the cotton candy coating his hands.

"Gonna be a real bummer tomorrow when the whole place gets swarmed with bees, huh?" teased a voice, and when he glanced up from the booth, there was Emma in all her early-evening glory, her hair held back with a wilting flower crown one of the campers had made for her, her cheeks bright with glittery swirls from Abi's face painting booth.

"Oh, Christ, I hadn't even thought of that...this place is gonna be Bug Central tomorrow - they love sweet shit like this, huh?"

She hummed in agreement, then leaned forward, mischief dancing in her eyes as she - sweet mother of God - brought his hand to her mouth and licked the length of his pointer finger clean; "Turns out, so do I," she smirked, and then, with a wink, she was off, sashaying over to the general store to help Ryan pack up the rest of the games.

"Well butter my biscuit and call me toast, I think she might be into you," Kaitlyn said from somewhere just behind him, and when he jumped (it was unimportant whether he yelled during said jump), she didn't apologize for ruining his moment or anything, but instead gestured to the lumpy monstrosities still set out on her booth, teasing, "I think this occasion calls for a celebratory balloon animal!"

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

[sshbpodcast]

Character Spotlight: Lwaxana Troi

By Ames

Lwaxana haters, see yourselves out (or stick around and see how wrong you are!), because A Star to Steer Her By loves our black-eyed Betazoid mama. She’s the daughter of the Fifth House, holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed, and also one of our favorite characters from The Next Generation!

Like Katharine Pulaski (whom we also stan with the best of them!), Lwaxana Troi is a character who gets way more hate than she deserves, who grew substantially every time she appeared on the show, and who has way more nuance than even some of the main characters we’ve discussed from the show so far! And that fashion sense? Holy cow. So pack your absurdly huge luggage, don your fluffiest wig, and meet up with us and Mr. Homn as we celebrate (and occasionally criticize) all things Lwaxana below and this week on the podcast (sashay over to 55:22 for the convo). We’re going on a manhunt!

[Images © CBS/Paramount]

Best moments

Murderers! Assassins! While her first couple of appearances in TNG were fairly annoying, as you’ll see in our next section, the one thing Lwaxana gets emphatically right in “Manhunt” is figuring out the two Antedians the Enterprise was carrying are actually assassins. And she drops this information in the most nonchalant way possible, cementing her status as a major boss.

Release them and I will stay with you willingly Oh boy is “Ménage à Troi,” a tough episode to gauge. While it certainly has its lows (Lwaxana constantly crashing Deanna’s day, Ferengi shenanigans at their worst, and some sexual assault and implied rape swept under the rug), Mrs. Troi does put her daughter first and insists to Daimon Tog that Deanna and Will be released if she sacrifices herself like any mother would.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? The other great scene that Lwaxana inspires in “Ménage à Troi,” is one we mentioned in our Picard Spotlight post, when she and JL work together to trick the Ferengi into releasing her. Even from across viewscreens, she compels the beautiful diatribe of Shakespearean poetry from Jean-Luc that ends up saving the summer’s day!

What does that little one do, Mister Woof? I don’t know why, but it always tickles me the couple of times on the show that Lwaxana calls our Klingon security head “Mr. Woof” as she does in “Half a Life” and others. Is she doing it just to evoke a reaction from him? Does she actually know his name at all? Regardless of the answer, it’s a cute joke that the writers play.

It is the custom for your loved ones to join you at this Resolution, is it not? Our fuller opinion of the character really started getting formed once the show reached “Half a Life” – one of our TNG faves – and we got a different look at this man-hungry helicopter parent. Suddenly, Lwaxana has nuance. She fights for people other than herself or her immediate family. She becomes vulnerable with Timicin, something we didn’t think possible from her character. And when she decides to go with him to his Resolution, it feels personal, complex, and complete.

A child who is trusted becomes worthy of that trust We gave Deanna some rightful criticism for thinking that writing up a contract between Worf and Alexander would be a good idea in “Cost of Living,” and Lwaxana waltzes in like a fairy godmother and throws that terrible idea in their faces! Immediately, she knows how to better parent Alexander than anyone else on the show ever had, low bar that that is.

You’re telling me you’re not going to be naked at your own wedding? It feels like such a triumph for Lwaxana to so brazenly show up naked to her wedding in “Cost of Living,” fully embracing her Betazoid heritage and throwing her strong will and individuality in Campio’s and his little toady’s faces. Now why she was engaged to that uptight twat in the first place is another story, but good for her anyway!

Whatever it is, we can face it together Here’s an actually good moment she shares with her daughter: That tear-jerking moment in “Dark Page.” It’s another instance in which we see Lwaxana as having more personality traits than we were led to believe she had as she comes to acknowledge the death of her daughter Kestra, and also we see Majel Barrett nailing some acting we’d never seen from her before.

Nobody’s ever seen me like this By the time we reach Deep Space Nine, the writers have figured out what to do with Lwaxana Troi to make her an impactful character. Sure, she’s still a great comic device, especially against rigid characters like Picard and Odo, but it’s in the way that she is humanized (or Betazoidized?) in scenes like the truly remarkable turbolift scene in “The Forsaken” that she really shines.

Then sway with me, Odo. Sway with me. While Lwaxana’s constant pestering of Picard gets tiring really quickly, her relationship with Odo proves something more interesting. In one of those Odd Couple kind of pairings, she’s able to get Odo to come out of his shell, even if it’s just a little bit, so when she gets him to dance with her in “Fascination,” it’s delightful and shows more layers to their respective characters.

Before I met her, my world was a much smaller place Okay, so the weird inspiration vampire side of the plot of “The Muse” may be idiotic, but the Lwaxana-Odo scenes are pure gold. Lwaxana and Odo, again, find each other to be the only people they can be vulnerable with, and Odo agrees to marry a very pregnant Lwaxana to get her out of an existing marriage, delivering the purest, most intimate and beautiful speech we’ve heard from him (until Kira, at least).

Strut your stuff on the catwalk Finally, we just have to give massive points to her remarkable fashion sense. One of our favorites is this blue number from “Fascination,” with the perfect wig to complement it and accessories like whoa. Make sure you check out our full screenshot assemblage that we put together previously to give fair credit to the excellent costuming of this iconic woman.

—

Worst moments

Momzillas gone wild Mrs. Troi is not without her faults, however, and most are man-related. How much pressure she puts on her daughter to get married is more than uncomfortable, it can get downright offensive. When the arranged marriage she initiated between Deanna and Wyatt comes due in “Haven,” it’s clear that this momzilla doesn’t always have her daughter’s best interests in mind; just her own.

Use your mind, not your mouth We also found it just plain rude how much Lwaxana insisted on communicating with Deanna telepathically in “Haven” and other episodes. a) Deanna has made it clear she’d rather speak out loud, and b) Picard and other crewmembers can’t hear what’s being said and that’s impolite, especially coming from someone of such standing in the Federation.

Oh, Jean-Luc, what naughty thoughts It becomes a running gag for the first couple appearances of Lwaxana how much she makes sexual advances on Captain Picard, who is just trying to do his job most of the time. But “Manhunt” really takes the cake for just going overboard with presumptuous behavior unbecoming for a woman of her stature. Leave the poor guy alone!

Until death us do part Later in “Manhunt,” it’s even grosser for Mrs. Troi to declare that she and Riker are to be wed. Whatever physiological state she was in is no excuse for how she goes out of her way to mortify her daughter, to put the moves on Deanna’s imzadi without consent, and to make scene after scene all for romantic attention. Why Gene Roddenberry would make his wife act like this is beyond us.

No man has ever been such a mystery to me Lucky for the flesh-and-blood men that Lwaxana spends most of “Manhunt” sexually accosting, apparently she has no idea what a hologram is. I don’t know how, but she’s so horny that when she meets Rex the bartender, she’s so intrigued by her inability to read his mind that she doesn’t even realize it’s because he’s not a real person. We can just imagine how far it went before it dawned on her.

Oo-mox is only the beginning It’s only fitting that someone like Lwaxana Troi should be there for the introduction of oo-mox on the show, and one time was already too much. During “Ménage à Troi,” Lwaxana unknowingly performs what’s essentially a sex act on her captor, which is gross enough as it is, but we learn later in an episode of Deep Space Nine that she also slept with Daimon Tog, and I vomit in my mouth.

Swipe right! We learn in “Cost of Living” that Lwaxana has gotten engaged to Campio, whom she effectively met on a dating app and whom she has absolutely no chemistry with. It strikes us as entirely out of character that she’d accept marriage to someone who wouldn’t allow her to be who she intrinsically is just because he’s rich. Thank the Four Deities she found a way out of it!

My name is Mud While we gave Lwaxana credit for spending more time with Alexander and treating him better than Worf ever does, we have to admit that the jacuzzi scene in “Cost of Living” is off-putting. Sure, it’s the future and we know that in Betazoid culture, nudity is entirely normal, but we’re still not sure it’s something Alexander is accustomed to or had any ability to consent to and that’s weird.

The worst thing that can happen to any parent This is a complicated one because it’s so triggering. I’m not sure it would be fair to blame Lwaxana or anyone for the accident that befell Kestra as we learn in “Dark Page,” but it’s very clear that Lwaxana blames herself. This is truly the lowest her character had ever been, and it explains a few things about how she so tightly latches on to Deanna, but it is a bad, bad time for her.

Bad thoughts, they hurt her What’s more accurate to say about the events from “Dark Page” is that Lwaxana had handled her trauma in an ultimately poor way. By blocking those memories as evidently Betazoids do with triggering events, she never was able to mourn or accept the loss of Kestra, instead avoiding the memories entirely in a way that turned out to be harmful to her and not fair to her late daughter’s memory.

Does no one understand quarantine procedures? I’ll nitpick about it every time some disease breaks out in an episode and no one seems to understand you shouldn’t go around touching everyone around them. So when Lwaxana has Zanthi Fever in “Fascination” and suddenly her horniness becomes contagious, I’m doubly pissed off because it resulted in a really, really stupid premise for an episode.

What I’d mistaken for love was nothing more than a prison After we mentioned just now when Lwaxana leapt at the chance to marry Campio in “Cost of Living,” we see she’s made the same mistake with Jeyal in “The Muse,” except now there’s a baby involved. The most irritating facet of Lwaxana’s personality is how man-hungry she always seems to be. It always clouds her perception, making her make bad decision after bad decision, and worse: making her compromise who she is.

—

Give it up for Majel Barrett Roddenberry, who could really do it all. Stick around next week for more kickass recurring characters on the Enterprise-D, and for our continued ride through the series Enterprise over on SoundCloud or wherever you podcast. You can also send us love notes over on Facebook and Twitter, but stop marrying every eligible dude you meet!

[rom-e-o]

The boys (including Bob) all being invited out for a "business dinner" by a prominent but sleazey associate that ends up being in... an adult entertainment venue that's geared mostly towards the gentlemen. This associate doesn't bother to mention this to the boys for whatever reason, so, naturally, the wives are invited along, because, unless it was top secret, why would you not invite your lovely, charming better halves along for an evening of what you presume to be fine dining? Needless to say, NONE of the couples are very impressed, but this associate insists on having the "meeting" here, and because he is someone with significant pull on high places and would be ideal to have an ally in, they all bite their tongues and go along. Cue the ladies kind of putting a damper on this man's (and, really, a lot of men's) evening as they naturally kind of monopolize a lot of the working girls' time with genuine and friendly chatting. Yes, they definitely offer up help and services to lots of the girls who would like to get out of the business but feel stuck. Yes, they also discuss beauty tips. And work out routines. And like be connections. And just have lots of positive interaction with the girls working there, because these are three core Pack women, why wouldn't they connect with these women?😅. Maybe they even talk with a depressed man they find in there or help a guy who's trapped there by his mates but wants to get back home to his own girl so he doesn't screw things up with her.

And the hubbies are just as enchanted with their beloveds as ever.

Ooooh ... I love this! And how absolutely in-character that entire scenario is for them. They would SO be the type to walk into a room of topless waitresses and dancers and immediately start making friends.

The associate brings them to this private area, just swarming with ladies. Poor Bob is red in the face the WHOLE time, and can barely glance up from the floor. Thankfully, Ethel leads him along. ("Careful, watch your step.")

I feel like the ladies are mostly amused by the showboating. The obvious display of 'manliness' in the form of this entertainment display. It's incredibly transparent.

As they settle in, waitressed bringing them drinks and rubbing shoulders, the ladies start working their magic around the table.

"Mmm...someone on here is wearing Neroli Portofino by Tom Ford. Who is it?" Connie asks.

And one of the more timid girls, who obviously is hesitant to be there, stammers, "O-Oh, me. I'm sorry, is it too fragrant?"

"No, it's lovely! Perfume smells different on each person because of pH. It smells delightful on you."

"Oh, thank you! I-It was a gift from my mom."

The head gent starts snapping for another round, but oh no. The ladies talk over him.

"Your mom? Is she local?"

"N-No. Um. She lives in Lavenham. You wouldn't know-"

"Suffolk, right?"

"N-wait, yes!"

Meanwhile, another convo with the woman starting to dance, Bess says, "Oh, hey, excuse me! I don't mean to leer, but your legs look amazing! Do you also do pilates, or ...?"

"Oh? Actually, I do kickboxing."

"Kickboxing? Oh my gosh, you're kidding. I do, too!"

"Not shit, really? Honey, we should got o class together. I've been dying for a spar partner to help me keep my reps up. Want to trade info?"

"Absolutely! Here, sit down right here."

The men are flabbergasted as their entire entourage of ladies completely shifts attention away from them and onto the women in the room. EVEN when he sends that group away and bright new ones into the room, the convos continues. Make-up. Morning routines. Where did you go to collage? Aw, your dog is a viszla? How long have you had her?

Ethel, meanwhile, insists on taking the trays from the girls hands and helping pass drinks, and she is giving these men NO victory. No sashay, so giggles. Just a 'here' and she practically drops it into their palms and goes back to bantering with another woman about her child starting preschool. "Oh, you must be so excited for your little Marguerite! Congrats, pet! Does she knows what she wants to be? ... London's first astronaut? Well, I'll be watching the skies for her!"

The hubbies are enamored, and so proud. They already weren't going to let this sleazeball walk all over them, let alone use an adult venue to turn this into some pathetic excuse for a pathetic excuse of a stag party. But to see their wifeys give these ladies a good time while completely talking all over the plans of this sleazeball? Oh, it's glorious.

[3am-thoughts-of-achilles]

Wishcasting Threads of Fate

—a patrochilles modern au (rated M)—

Briseis drags Patroclus to a college party on New Year’s Eve against all of his protests and pleas. Tired med student Patroclus, who, just a couple of days ago had been studying intensely for his finals. Tired Patroclus who feels a burnout and exhaustion so bone-weary, that he’d rather be in bed sleeping it off. He had intended to do just that, when his overbearing best friend—he loves her to death, he’s just a tad grumpy right now—had yanked the covers off of him and pushed him out of the warm comfort of his bed.

“We’re going out tonight,” she’d said, grinning mischievously as she leaned over him from his new perch on the floor. 

And the rest is history.

Patroclus is tired. The music is loud in whoever’s extravagant living room they’re in right now, and that, coupled with the jostling bodies and chatter of other students in attendance, makes him scowl.

Ultimately, he wishes he was in bed right this moment. Hurray for the festivities and all, but he’d rather usher in the new year unaware, fast asleep in his dorm room, and the fact that Briseis has taken that away from him makes him…exhausted, he decides.

Tired Patroclus accepts the red plastic cup she places in his hand with a grunt, and mechanically tips the unidentified contents of it into his mouth. He winces at the pungent but familiar weight of alcohol travelling down his throat as he swallows.

Briseis pats his arm in consolation, then cackles with glee as she spots a group of her classmates who wave her over excitedly. Patroclus grabs her at once. Makes desperate, pleading eyes at her, and grits out, “Do not leave me here, I’m begging you—”

“I’ll be back in a minute, babe!” she expertly weaves out of his hold and heads over to her other friends, disappearing into the sea of tightly packed bodies.

It has been thirty-two minutes since then.

Sighing, Patroclus takes a second swig of his drink and winces again. He’s just about to go looking for a sink to dump his cup into, when something catches his eye. It flashes by the corner of his vision so quickly, that for a moment he thinks: fire?

It isn’t fire, his brain amends soon after as he glances over at the direction the blur of movement came from. It’s someone’s hair; light, flowing, wavy, and vibrant blonde.

There, out on the patio just across from him, are a small group of students lounging in a half circle around a rectangular table, drinks in hand, laughter loud and boisterous.

“Dance for us, Pyrrha!” someone urges, amused and goading.

Patroclus drags his eyes finally to the only person sitting perched atop the table. He sees pretty blonde hair, a lean frame, sunflower-patterned bell-bottoms and a flowy white long-sleeved crop top that shows off a toned stomach, and his brain short-circuits.

The girl, he thinks—Pyrrha—gets up on the table with a snort, rueful smile toying across slender pink lips, and says something to her friends that Patroclus doesn’t quite catch. Whatever it was though, sends the group of people surrounding her into another bout of laughter.

Someone starts to drum a beat onto the corner of the table, and amidst a building hum of cheers, as if she was made for it, Pyrrha starts to move.

Patroclus…well he’s never been more enthralled by anything in his entire life. He watches her dance, eyes glued to the way her practised feet carry her, moving with ease. Her hips sway and sashay, her arms beckon the crowd as she dips back to show off the graceful stretch of her neck—

Patroclus’ mouth goes bone dry.

As she straightens up and continues to dance, she turns around and locks eyes with him despite the small crowd. Despite the loud cheers. Despite everything.

It isn’t until he feels a growing patch of wetness on his shirt that Patroclus realises he’d been squeezing his red solo cup for dear life. He looks down at himself, dismayed at the mess on his clothes and shoes. When he glances up at the dancer once more, he’s disappointed to find that she’d turned back to her friends and he’s left to stare at her back.

The impromptu performance ends not long after that, and Patroclus had stood there, watching every moment. The soft pat of her feet hitting the wooden patio is the cue that snaps him out of the trance-like state he’d been in, and Patroclus hastily drags his gaze away. He looks down at his hand and clothes once more, mild distaste prickling under his skin now at the sticky-cold feeling of drying beer on his skin.

He prompts himself to move finally, but not before sneaking one last look at the blonde-haired muse who’d caught him in her thrall.

As if drawn by some invisible thread, Pyrrha turns around once more, caught in between a full-body laugh from something a friend had said. Again, her eyes drift over the crowd to find Patroclus and meet his gaze. Again, Patroclus’ body freezes up, a feeling like liquid lightning racing down his spine and warming his stomach. He stumbles into a random partygoer in his daze, and the spell is broken. Mumbling a quick apology, he hurries further into the house, in search of somewhere to wash his hands. He pushes past inebriated bodies, weaves past people playing beer pong in the center of the living room, thinks he spots Briseis’ familiar mass of curls weaving through the crowd somewhere, but she’s gone before he can even think to call out to her.

Another sigh escapes him. This house is a maze; it’s eclectic and large, just a couple of minutes off-campus, and he can’t find a damn bathroom anywhere.

Pausing at the foot of a winding set of marble stairs, Patroclus wonders if he really wants to go traipsing around somebody’s fancy mansion with his soiled hands like this. But there are probably a lot more unsanitary things going on around him right now, and the owner of the house had most likely agreed to host this party.

Something prompts Patroclus to look up before he can further debate the semantics of his inherent uneasiness in luxurious settings. Perhaps that same thread of fate he’s been wish-casting about, or some invisible hand guiding him—but whatever the case, he looks up.

Sees that same familiar face framed by waves of pretty blonde hair, smiling down at him.

Pyrrha.

Leaning against the elegant banister, olive green eyes twinkling with amusement, she beckons him with a single flick of her index finger. And like a man enchanted—he really is—Patroclus stumbles up the flight of stairs without another thought.

He isn’t quite sure how he makes it to the top on account of his clumsy feet, but he doesn’t stop to think about that either. The moment he touches down on that final step, he finds himself face to face with who he’s now certain is the love of his life. They haven’t spoken a single word, have barely shared three glances, but sue him—Patroclus has never once pegged himself as a hopeless romantic, much less a believer of the ‘love at first sight phenomenon, but here he is now, so fucking sue him.

He’s standing in front of this person, tongue-tied, heart in his throat, drying disgusting beer on his damn hands, and he’s never been more sure of anything in his entire life.

“You looked like you enjoyed watching me dance, earlier.” Pyrrha’s voice dips slightly into the lower register, sensual, inviting. Hair-raisingly good.

A couple of fuses go off in Patroclus’ brain. “Hello—um, I mean, yes. It was uh…a nice routine. Very nice, I thought.” He thinks he should stop talking. “Ah, I’m sorry—I’m looking for a bathroom, I need to uh…wash my hands…” he trails off helplessly. That was an even worse second try, but as he stares at Pyrrha, he catches a smile playing on her lips, and he’s glad he’s at least managed to amuse her.

“I figured you would, after all, you squeezed the life out of your cup while watching my ‘very nice’ performance.”

“Oh, I—”

A flame sparks to life inside Patroclus the moment Pyrrha takes his hand and begins to lead him down the elegant hallway.

“Y-you really shouldn't…” this is his dirty hand, he wants to say, but the words fall short when she runs her thumb against the back of said hand and leads him into a large bedroom.

Kicking the door shut with her foot, Pyrrha turns the lock with her free hand and lets out a hum in the muted silence. From here, Patroclus can barely hear the party downstairs, though he can barely hear anything above the roar of blood in his ears.

He goes willingly when Pyrrha tugs on him.

“Come on,” she says, showing him into an ornate, adjoining bathroom. “Let’s wash our hands, hm?”

Finally, he gets to run his hands under the quiet gurgle of a tap. The water is warm, and it’s all he can do to focus on the mechanical lather and rinse cycle while acutely aware of the presence leaning against the door behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention as he feels her come up behind him when he’s done, and offer her own hands expectantly. 

Patroclus looks down and swallows dryly for what may be the umpteenth time that night. “You…do you want me to wash your hands for you?”

She inclines her head in interest. “Would you?”

“Of– of course.”

And suddenly even the mechanical lather and rinse routine is more pronounced, more portentous than it's ever been for him. Patroclus tries not to let his hands tremble as he takes hers and guides them under the tap. He can’t help himself when his eyes fix fast to the way her hands rest in his; sure and delicate, slender fingers easing off into perfect, manicured nails. 

Needless to say, Patroclus spends time on each one, so dedicated and devoted to his task, that he almost misses the question she poses to him: 

“What’s your name?”

The engines in his brain sputter pathetically. “P–Patroclus,” he breathes.

“Patroclus.” The word rolls off her tongue smooth and velvety, and for a moment, it feels familiar, as if his name has always been home on the tip of her tongue. 

He doesn’t reply—can’t reply—because everything in his head has gone quiet all of a sudden. 

Here he is studying to be a doctor, but watching Pyrrha earlier had felt like he'd crossed paths with his muse; made him feel like he could paint hundreds of paintings and compose a hundred more epics for the effulgent being standing before him

“I’m Achilles,” the dancer tells him, and it takes a long moment for Patroclus to register it. 

He’s staring down at the elegant fingers splayed on top of his like they’re the most interesting thing he’s ever seen—and in a way, they are—as a slow creeping warmth climbs up his neck. 

“…Oh,” he murmurs finally, a small furrow of confusion denting his brows. “I heard your friends call you Pyrrha…so I thought—”

“Mhm, that's more of a…nickname? A stage name?” A soft laugh. “Ah, it's a long story.”

“I see,” Patroclus says. And then, a dawning realisation:

Achilles. 

“Oh— I thought you were a woman,” he confesses, face burning now. “…I'm sorry.”

He looks up into the mirror ahead of them and meets a rakish grin staring back at him. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Achilles tells him. “I take it as a compliment.”

Oh. 

Patroclus’ mind, eerily quiet a moment ago, turns cacophonous with a storm of questions raging through him: 

How come this knowledge doesn't deter the pulsing attraction he feels towards Pyrrha—no Achilles? Why does it feel more charged and electric to brush shoulders with him as the both of them dry off their hands? What does it say about Patroclus who's only ever dated women to be so ready to discard everything he thought he knew about himself in the face of someone he met half an hour ago?

Whatever realisation he's on the verge of unearthing feels like it should be more momentous, more tumultuous, perhaps, but Patroclus doesn't sway. His feet are as planted on the ground as ever. 

“I saw the way you looked at me back then,” Achilles tells him. It's simple, said neutrally, neither chastising nor encouraging. 

Regardless, a wave of something akin to mortification surges through Patroclus. “I— I’m sorry,” he mumbles, suddenly aware that they're face to face and Achilles has him backed against the door. 

Again, the other says, “Don't be.” He takes a measured step closer to him and smiles a little. “Patroclus,” he hums, urging Patroclus to look at him.

Patroclus makes a small sound of acknowledgement in his throat, unable for anything else. His gaze had been wandering all across the gilded bathroom, determined not to meet Achilles’ amused, almost cajoling expression, but now Patroclus is inevitably drawn back to those dark green eyes. He thinks they look a little darker now, hooded. His mouth goes dry again.

“It’s almost midnight,” Achilles drawls playfully. “There’s only the two of us here and I’m hoping for a kiss. Have things changed now that I’m…sort of a guy, or are you still into me?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been into anyone more in my entire life,” Patroclus replies honestly, a tad bit desperate. The truth of the admission stuns him a little. Patroclus who’s been straight all his life, is learning a thing or two about himself in this light, and the only takeaway he has is that he is so into Achilles.

“Yeah?” Achilles is grinning now, delighted. “Are you gonna kiss me?”

The idea makes Patroclus tremble with anticipation. “Please,” he breathes. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Achilles teases. 

“Ah, I just—”

Achilles steps up to him, toe to toe, and presses his lips to Patroclus’. 

It’s soft and simple, innocent, makes him feel like a kid stealing a first kiss from his crush, but then, Achilles takes Patroclus’ bottom lip between his teeth for just a moment before letting go, and all of Patroclus’ thoughts swerve into static noise. 

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Achilles asks, the words murmured against Patroclus’ lips because they’re still standing so so close to each other. 

Eyes raking along the entirety of Achilles’ body, Patroclus swallows thickly and begs, “Again. I— kiss me once more.”

A low, distracted hum is all he receives in response before their lips meet a second time. It feels like a slow greeting at first, like Achilles is coaxing him, welcoming him into the act, but Patroclus is much too eager. 

Already, it feels like a wildfire spreading across his veins. He gasps into the kiss, mind racing, and welcomes the liquifying warmth of pleasure that stamps through him at the mere feeling of their tongues rubbing against each other. 

Achilles lets out a soft sound like he’s pleased, and takes both of Patroclus’ hands—previously trembling uselessly at his sides—and encourages them to grab onto his waist. 

The mere contact of his hands on Achilles’ bare skin, drives him a little crazy as Patroclus instantly presses the pads of his fingers into his body, tugs Achilles impossibly close until there’s really no space between them, and earns himself another satisfied moan. 

He’s only heard them twice, but Patroclus thinks that if he could, he’d drink in all of the blonde man’s pleased little noises for the rest of his life. It’s a sound he could live off. 

Patroclus doesn’t know what comes over him, but soon he’s licking into Achilles’ mouth insistently, holding him in place, desperate to get the spiced wine taste of him on his own tongue too. At some point, Achilles had taken to latching onto Patroclus’ arm like a lifeline now, nails digging into his flesh, sparking to life some part of him that’s apparently into a little pleasure-pain. 

Groaning, Patroclus hefts the other up, and Achilles laughs in surprise against his lips before quickly catching on and wrapping his legs around Patroclus’ waist. The pure, unfettered sound of delight rushes through Patroclus like heroin; this sound is one he could get high off. 

Greedy, he hesitantly drags his mouth away from Achilles’, set now in a recently discovered desire to see just how many noises he can tug out of his pretty lips. 

He earns a sharp gasp, surprise blended with pleasure, when his mouth first closes around  Achilles’ slender neck. He loves the way Achilles arches and bucks into him at that moment, however, before he can keep going, two shaky hands cup his face and urges him to meet a gaze heavy-lidded and darkened with want. 

Still, there’s a smile playing on Achilles’ face as he pants and breathes out: “We’ve missed most of the countdown.”

For a moment, Patroclus’s addled mind doesn’t understand what the other means, but then he hears it for himself. The now audible boom of the party’s collective voices downstairs. 

“…Three…two…ONE!”

Despite how loud the crowd is now, they’re no match for the resounding roar of thunder that echoes in Patroclus’ mind when Achilles yanks him in for another breathtaking kiss. 

Sparks explode behind his closed eyes, and his stomach warms with that strange sense of familiarity again. 

They pull apart shortly, matching grins on their faces. 

“Happy New Year, Patroclus.”

“…Happy New Year, Achilles.”

[amber-management]

Day 2

Latex Love 🖤/ Masquerade Ball 💃

(Featuring my OC's Buttercup, Bailey and Muffin)

Buttercup found Muffin at the buffet table, and though it was supposed to be a masquerade ball, she recognised him by the familiar way he was bursting out of his suit. Though the masks were all a surprise, they had picked their clothes out together, and Buttercup had insisted on this particular blue suit because she knew that as soon as he got his hands on the smorgasbord at the buffet, he would spend the rest of the night stuffing his face.

An hour into the night, he was the only person still at the buffet table, and some of the other masked partygoers were shooting him strange looks. His fur of his face was smeared with food, there were crumbs on the shelf of his gut, and his tail was wagging happily. The buttons of his undershirt were straining, revealing his furred grey gut between them, breathing heavily. He looked divine, and as Buttercup sashayed towards him, she couldn’t help but wonder how much more she could convince him to eat. He was very suspectable to literally anything when he had eaten enough for ten men.

“Hey puppy,” she snuck up behind him and gripped him by a love handle. He jerked, and it surprised a burp from him that he couldn’t muffle by his hand in time. “You’re looking plump.”

“Butters, the food here is so good,” he was panting, his lungs constricted by all the food. “You should try some.”

“Did you leave me any?” She teased. He blinked, surprised, at all the empty trays and plates that he had single-handedly devoured. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he had been in a haze this whole time, too busy eating and filling his starving gut to realize just how much he was packing away. “If you eat anything else, you’re going to burst out of that suit.”

Muffin moaned. The thought was enticing. In front of all these people, watching him glut himself at the fancy buffet. They hadn’t even brought out the three- course meal yet and he was already bursting the seems on his tux. He had been so mindless in his gorging that he hadn’t stopped to consider that maybe he should save some room.

Before he could reply, Buttercup moved her hand from his plush love handle to his gut, and she felt the firm, unyielding mass beneath her palm, gurgling and sloshing as it struggled to digest. Underneath his constant layer of soft, jiggling fat, the upper part of his stomach was utterly stuffed while the swollen, plush underbelly threatened to peak out from the bottom of his suit, his shirt untucked from his pants by the force pressing against it. “We didn’t bring you a spare change of clothes,” she warned him. “If you destroy these, that’s it. You’ll have to go through the rest of the night with ripped seems and missing buttons.”

The prospect probably shouldn’t arouse him as much as it did. “Where’s Bailey?”

Sniggering, Buttercup pointed back towards the bar, where Bailey was slumped on her stool, drinking drunkenly from a glass of whiskey, surrounded by spilt alcohol and empty beer bottles. “She’s having as good a time as you are,” she said. “If the two of you keep going like this, I’m not going to be able to carry you out of here.”

His stomach rumbled. From hunger or overfullness, he didn’t know. “Oh,” he moaned as she patted the most swollen part of him. “Butters, you have to stop, people are going to see us.”

“People can already see you,” she said. She reached down and grabbed hold of his soft, saggy underbelly and shook it. It overfilled her palm, and it made his entire body jiggle and bounce, from his stomach to his plump little moobs to his blooming double chin. “If you didn’t want people to look at you like this then why did you eat so much.”

“They can’t recognise me, right?” He said hopelessly. “People won’t know it’s me.”

“Fin, you’re the only puppy here,” Buttercup flicked at one of his ears, and it twitched at the contact. “Even if they can’t see your face, they’re going to be talking about ‘that fat dog who couldn’t stop eating’ for a long time.”

Muffin moaned again at the thought, barely managing to muffle the sound with his dirtied palm. He had been so consumed by consuming that he hadn’t even paid attention to any of the other attendees. He listened now- over the music, he could hear people muttering, whispering. Were they talking about him?

“You’re right,” he managed, stepping back from the table. “I’ll stop-“

“I didn’t say that,” Buttercup nudged him forward, back towards the buffet. Waiters were already beginning to replenish it, carrying trays of delicious-smelling smelling finger-foods, ready and waiting for Muffin to devour. “Eat up, puppy, you look hungry.”

[all-the-things-2020]

No Better Place - Chapter 16

Summary: Cassidy helps Javi settle in to his new apartment.

Warnings: explicit sex

Word count: 3400

When Cassidy woke up, Javi called for a pizza. He got dressed but Cassidy simply pulled on the t-shirt he’d been wearing earlier in the day. It was long enough to cover her ass, but just barely, and as she walked around the apartment, he kept getting glimpses of things he really didn’t want a stranger to see. “Promise me you’ll go back in the bedroom when the pizza guy gets here,” he said.

She laughed and sprawled out on the couch, the shirt riding up to show her bare hip. “Afraid I’ll embarrass you?,” she asked.

“Afraid he’ll try to fight me for you,” Javi replied. He pointed at her. “No one gets to see that but me.”

She laughed again, but when the doorbell rang, she disappeared into the bedroom. Javi paid for the pizza and tipped the delivery boy well, since he was in a good mood. He called Cassidy back out while he sat the pizza on the table and pulled a couple of beers out of the fridge. Chucho’s housewarming present had been a six-pack of Javi’s favorite brew.

He was hungry, but it was hard to concentrate on his pizza with Cassidy sitting across from him wearing only his discarded shirt. Her hair was loose and disheveled in an extremely sexy way.

“What?,” she said, her mouth full of pepperoni.

“You just look hot,” he said, taking a sip of beer.

She looked puzzled. “I didn’t know eating pizza with bed head was a sexy look,” she said.

“Well, most people couldn’t pull it off, but you do,” Javi conceded.

Cassidy sat her slice of pizza down on a napkin and slid out of her seat. She straddled his lap and kissed him. “Kind of a weird compliment, but I’ll take it,” she said before she kissed him again. She ground herself against his crotch and he grunted as his jeans grew tight. “You know, your dad said I should make sure you always think of me when you get into bed at night,” she went on. “Maybe I should make sure you think of me when you sit at the table, too.”

Javi laughed against her lips. “Finish your pizza first,” he growled. “And go get a condom before you start anything.”

She rolled her hips against him one last time before sliding off his lap and going back to her seat. She maintained eye contact with him while she ate her pizza in an exaggerated manner, licking her lips and biting at the lower one while fluttering her eyelashes at him. It was all Javi could do not to burst out laughing, and he almost choked on his beer when she wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb in a comically seductive way.

“Too much?” she asked before she succumbed to a fit of giggles.

When she’d finished her pizza, she sashayed into the bedroom and came back with a condom packet, which she tossed on the table in front of him. Javi took his time finishing his slice of pizza, just to mess with her. She sat patiently until he deliberately patted his lips with a napkin and sat back with a small sigh. “Do with me what you will,” he said.

She grinned and climbed back onto his lap. He put his hands on her hips to keep her steady as she kissed him deeply. “Thank goodness I didn’t get onions on the pizza,” Javi murmured when she came up for breath.

“Shut up,” Cassidy said with a laugh. She kissed him again, one hand dipping down to unfasten his jeans. She took her time, teasing him with her fingers and her tongue, until he was squirming.

“Get up,” he said. She stood up and he wiggled his jeans down to his ankles. He hadn’t bothered to put on shorts and as soon as his pants were past his hips, his dick sprang up, ready for action.

Cassidy chuckled deep in her throat and picked up the condom packet. As she resettled herself in his lap, she tore the foil and pulled out the condom. Once she’d unrolled it over his shaft, she carefully positioned herself and then slid slowly down on him, taking him inch by inch until her hips were flush with his.

Javi cupped one hand under her ass so hold her in place and placed the other at the back of her head so he could pull her close and kiss her senseless. She moved slowly against him, a slow roll of her hips that drove him mad. “You’re a terrible tease,” he muttered in her ear before he nibbled on the lobe.

“Maybe I want to keep you inside me as long as possible,” she breathed back. Still, she started moving faster and soon Javi had to put both hands on her hips to keep her firmly on his lap as they rocked back and forth in the chair, which began to creak alarmingly as their pace quickened.

“If we break this chair and I lose my security deposit …,” Javi gasped. Cassidy just laughed and laid her mouth over his, kissing him so hard he lost the ability to speak for a moment. Then he lost all control and thrust into her harder and harder until he came with a shudder and a groan.

“You good?” he managed to get out once he’d come down from his high. Cassidy was still grinding against him.

“Almost there,” she muttered. He slid one hand down between them and it didn’t take long for her to clench around him, her head thrown back as she moaned his name. When she slumped against his chest, he carefully lifted her off his dick and peeled off the condom, which he tossed onto the table with the rest of the trash.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely never forget that,” Javi whispered in her ear.

**********************************************************************************

Cassidy lay awake, listening to Javi snoring softly beside her. After her nap that afternoon, she wasn’t all that tired, and her mind was too busy racing to let her relax anyway. She might have gone overboard with the sex, but it had been easier to fuck Javi than talk to him. They had one more day and one more night together and then she would be on her way back to Laredo and despite all of Javi’s promises she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the end of their relationship.

She wasn’t naive. Once Javi started his new job, he would have work projects and colleagues to fill his days and thoughts. He would meet his neighbors, find new favorite restaurants and hangouts, maybe flirt a little with the clerk at the grocery store out of boredom. And the drive to Laredo would seem longer and longer, and less and less rewarding as time went by, until he stopped coming altogether except for holidays when he felt obligated to visit his father.

It was possible that things would work out, that he would faithfully drive home each week, that the bond between them would only strengthen, not break, with distance, but she wasn’t going to hold her breath. Just enjoy this weekend, she told herself. Pretend it’s real. Pretend this is your life. But she knew that soon enough, she’d be back in Laredo, shoveling manure and repairing tack that was hanging by a thread and checking her bank balance to make sure she could afford hay for the month. It was her life, the life she’d chosen, and she’d never begrudged a moment or a penny spent on her horses, but it was hard having to choose between her passion and her love for Javi.

She sighed and curled up against Javi, her head on his shoulder. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake. She lay quietly, breathing in his scent, waiting for sleep to claim her, if it wanted to. If not, she’d just enjoy being here beside him.

********************************************************************

Javi walked to the donut shop a block away for coffee and some crullers for breakfast. It was a nice neighborhood, with healthy trees growing at intervals along the sidewalk and birds chirping among the leaves. The guy at the donut shop had thrown in a bonus cake donut when he found out Javi had just moved in, and the coffee smelled freshly brewed.

Cassidy looked tired as she sipped her coffee and nibbled at a cruller, but Javi felt pretty good. He’d slept quite well after the exertions of the afternoon and evening before. “You can stay here while I go to get the car if you want,” he suggested as she suppressed yet another yawn.

“No, I’ll go with you,” she said. “I want to spend as much time with you as possible.” She smiled and kicked his ankle gently. The toe of her boot slid under the hem of his jeans and rubbed at his shin.

Montauk called around nine-thirty and by the time Javi had taken out the trash and Cassidy had wiped the cruller crumbs off the table, there was a knock at the door.

“Good morning!,” Montauk said heartily as Javi opened the door. “Ready to go?” He was a stout, balding redhead with the flushed complexion of a fair-skinned man doomed to live somewhere that got incredibly hot in the summer. He caught sight of Cassidy. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had company. Is this not a good time?”

��This is my girlfriend, Cassidy,” Javi said. He felt the familiar surge of warmth throughout his body he got every time he said those words. “She’s helping me get settled in.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Cassidy,” Montauk said, holding out his hand to shake hers. “Are you moving up here, too?”

“No, I have a small ranch in Laredo,” Cassidy said brightly. “Right next to Javi’s dad’s place.” Her voice was chipper, but Javi could see a shadow in her eyes. She was taking this harder than she was letting on.

They followed Montauk down to his car and he drove them to the car dealership on the other side of the city. He introduced them to the salesman and went on his way. After a few hours of mind-numbing paperwork, Javi emerged with a three year lease on a modest blue Ford Escort. It wasn’t fancy, but it would get him to work and back and was comfortable enough for the drive back and forth to Laredo.

Afterward, he and Cassidy had lunch at a little cafe not far from the dealership and then stopped at the grocery store closest to his apartment building to stock up on essentials, like coffee and bread and whiskey. At the register, Javi added a carton of cigarettes, which made Cassidy shake her head. She was trying her best to get him to quit, or at least cut back, but after the years in Colombia, it was a hard habit to break, especially when he was under stress. And he was going to be dealing with a lot of stress in the weeks ahead.

Back at the apartment, they put the groceries away and Cassidy sat down at the table with a writing tablet. “Okay, you’ve got food, but you still need appliances,” she said. “Coffee maker, microwave. Those are essential. How about a TV?”

Javi shook his head as he sat down across from her. “That can wait,” he said. “But definitely the coffee maker and microwave. Those are my main cooking tools.” He laughed. “I can live without television easily, but without coffee? No way in hell.”

They brainstormed a list of things he would buy at Walmart the next day, as well as a list of other things he could purchase as time and budget allowed. It was cozy in a way, doing something as bland and domestic as drawing up a shopping list, and Javi wished that Cassidy wasn’t going back to Laredo in the morning. He’d told her he’d never ask her to leave her horses, and he knew it was the right thing to do, but he still selfishly wished she’d choose him over everything else.

“At least get yourself a little radio or something,” Cassidy said as she tore the list free from the writing tablet. “This place is awfully quiet. Especially if you’re going to be here alone.” She smiled tightly.

Javi took the list from her and folded it neatly. “Good idea,” he said. “So, what do you want to do tonight? We’ve got leftover pizza to eat, but it’s Saturday night. Want to go to a movie or something?”

“No, let’s stay in,” Cassidy said. She traced a lazy circle on the tabletop with her finger. “I might have gotten a bit carried away yesterday,” she said carefully. “I think maybe tonight we should talk. Really talk.” She looked up at him and her eyes were sober.

“Okay,” Javi said quietly. “I’d like that.” He was nervous about what she might say, but he knew they couldn’t avoid it forever.

*****************************************************************

Cassidy stood in the shower, letting the hot water cascade through her hair and down her back. It had been an intense evening, as she’d opened up to Javi and told him all her fears about the way ahead. He’d admitted his own misgivings but in the end, he’d convinced her that what they had was worth fighting for. They’d talked through every tiny detail of making a long distance relationship work. He would call her at least twice a week, probably after nine o’clock when the long distance rates dropped, and drive down to Laredo every Friday night after work unless the weather was too bad or he was sick or he absolutely had to work over the weekend.

He’d also insisted that since she was keeping Buster at her place, and that he was Javi’s horse, he would pay boarding fees and all the other expenses Buster accrued. Cassidy hadn’t wanted to ask, but she was grateful he’d offered. It was only two hundred dollars a month, plus any vet bills, but every little bit helped. She could breathe a little easier, knowing that Javi’d be giving her a check every month.

She shut off the water and stepped out of the tub, wrapping a towel around hair and another around her body. Her underwear and bra were hanging off the end of the curtain rod. She’d rinsed them out in the sink, not willing to wear them three days in a row without being cleaned. She made a note to remind Chucho that if he wanted to spring another dirty weekend on them, he needed to give her at least enough warning to pack a change of clothes.

She left the bathroom and walked to the bedroom. Javi had already taken his shower and was in bed, sitting propped up against the headboard, flipping through the phone book. “What are you doing?” she asked as she removed the towel from her hair and squeezed as much water out as she could. Without a blow dryer, she’d have to wait for her hair to air dry and that could take forever.

“Just looking for a bookstore,” he said. “Until I buy a television, I’ll need something to keep me entertained in the evenings, if I don’t have work.” He closed the phone book and tossed it onto the shelf at the bottom of the nightstand. “Looks like there’s one at the mall.” He shuddered. “I’ll brave that one evening after work. Don’t think I can handle a mall on a Sunday afternoon.”

Cassidy laughed at the image of her grumpy Javi trying to maneuver through the hordes of teenagers in a mall. “Aw, maybe there’s a library you can go to instead,” she said, tossing the damp towel into the hamper just inside the bedroom door. “I didn’t peg you for a reader.” She pulled off the other towel and slid into bed beside him.

Javi shrugged. “Normally I don’t have time,” he said. “But I read.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t tell anyone, but I really like those cozy British mysteries, like Agatha Christie. Everything is so neat and tidy, not like real life.”

She booped the tip of his nose. “Your secret is safe with me,” she said. “I’m partial to fantasy stories, myself. Total escape from reality, plus sometimes there are horses.”

He kissed her nose. “Someday we’ll have a fireplace,” he said. “And we can sit in front of it all snuggled up in a blanket, reading our books and sharing the good parts.”

“You mean the parts that we think are especially well-written, or do you mean the smutty parts?” she teased.

“Either,” he said. “But I think the smutty parts would lead to us putting the books down and doing something else under that blanket.” He slid down in the bed so he was lying facing her.

She slid down to match him, her wet hair making a damp patch on the pillow. “I could handle that,” she said quietly. He kissed her and she forgot all about her hair and books and the fact she was leaving in the morning. All she knew was Javi’s arms and hands and lips, until she fell asleep in his embrace, sated in every possible way. Her heart was full, her mind was calm and her body was satisfied.

**************************************************************

Chucho called at eight the next morning, to let them know he was getting ready to leave. That meant they had only a couple of hours left before they had to say goodbye. Cassidy scrambled some eggs, adding cheese and some onions and peppers. Javi ran down to the donut shop for coffee and by the time he came back, she had two plates piled with fluffy eggs and buttered toast waiting.

They ate breakfast quietly, washed the dishes and then wandered aimlessly around the apartment while they waited. Far too soon, there was a heavy knock at the door and there was Chucho, with a box of odds and ends he thought Javi might need, including a small stack of paperback books. “They were in that little bookcase in your bedroom,” he explained. “Wasn’t sure if you’d already read them or not.” Cassidy took a glance. The Murder at the Vicarage, Appointment with Death, and The Moving Finger were prominent titles. She suppressed a smile as Javi grumpily took the books from his father.

“Thanks,” he said curtly.

Chucho clapped his hands. “Well, let me use the bathroom and we can head out,” he said. “If we get back in time, Tia Jacinta is making chile verde for her granddaughter’s ballet recital.” He chuckled. “I got out of the recital because I had to drive up here, but we can still get some of the food.” He winked and headed into the bathroom.

“So, this is it,” Cassidy said, her hands suddenly trembling.

“Call me when you get home,” Javi said, laying his hands on her arms, holding her steady. “And I’ll call you Tuesday night, let you know how things are going at work, and what time you can expect me on Friday.” He kissed her forehead. “I love you, hermosa.”

“I love you, too,” she replied, pressing her forehead against his. “The week should go fast for you, with work and everything.”

“Yeah,” Javi said, clearly trying to stay upbeat and not quite achieving it. “It’ll fly by and I’ll be home before you know it.” He squeezed her shoulders tightly. “I’ll be thinking of you every day, Cassidy.”

“I know,” she said with a sigh. “It’ll be okay.”

Chucho came out of the bathroom. “No tearful goodbyes,” he said firmly. “You’ll see each other in less than a week, and you’re only a phone call away. Now, come on, mija, let’s go so I can get some of that chile verde!”

She gave Javi one last kiss and followed Chucho down to his truck. As she buckled herself into the passenger seat, Chucho leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “You’ll see.” He fastened his own seatbelt, put the truck in gear and backed out of his parking space. Cassidy took one last glance back at the apartment building, and then they headed home.

[thekindisco]

SUPERMODEL RUPAUL ID PACK

Names

Ebony, Naomi, Claudia, Sasha, Rue, Christi, Shantae, Shay, Celeste, Bianca, Courtney, Kim, Landon, Ivory, Nico, Lucky, Arden, Robin, Beau, Modell(e), Angel, Sweetie, Gene, Nikkie, Yves, Gwen, Stephanie

Pronouns

run/way, cat/walk, strut/struts, model/models, super/model, cover/girl, sashay/sashays, fashion/fashions, vogue/vogues, twirl/twirls, ball/room, beau/beaus, lo/love or love/loves, cher/chers, ador/adore, pose/poses, idol/idols, glam/glams or glam/glamour, grace/graces, fierce/fierces, eso/esos, glow/glows

Labels

Glamgender, Prettygender, Envysweetheart, Barbiegender, Dramatigender, Elegatearic, Dragkinggender/Dragqueegender/Dragmongender, Genderglam, Lover Trans, Beautbodiment