#seems like pretty fair scores to me

[euthymiya]

part one ; office mate! gojo ; company heir! gojo ; female intern! reader ; fluff ; pre getting together

Satoru is good at getting things he wants. It’s not because he’s spoiled (although he’s that, too) but rather, it’s because he’s persistent. Annoyingly so. Persistent in that way where he doesn’t necessarily earn what he wants, but scores it just because the other party is tired enough to cave for the sake of some peace.

Case example: you.

You sit across from him as he happily sips on his excessively expensive coffee from all the extra syrups.

“How can you have that much sugar?” You cringe.

He raises an amused brow as he hums, “Because I don’t choose to be miserable. You should try it sometime.”

Glaring, you roll your eyes before taking a sip of your own coffee. Satoru is at least nice and chivalrous enough to pay for your coffee—although, knowing what you do now, it’s not exactly as though he can’t afford it. You’re pretty sure being the heir to the company you intern for means he’s loaded in enough money that a simple iced coffee isn’t too much of a dent in his pockets.

You give him an unimpressed frown before getting to the heart of the matter. “Why didn’t you tell me your dad owns the company?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes,” you hiss, “I’ve been passive aggressively calling you a lazy asshole for two months!”

“Do you change your mind about that?” He asks infuriatingly calmly.

“No,” you admit. You take a long look at him before nodding in confirmation as you repeat, “No, I don’t.”

He pouts a little at that, still cute and aggravating at the same time. “Hey,” he says, only a little wounded and a whole lot excessively dramatic. You can tell he didn’t get a lot of attention growing up with the way he pulls theatrics. Something about the psychology of unmet emotional needs as a child from your one semester of psych in college comes back. “You don’t have to say it so condescendingly.”

“Well, you are lazy,” you point out. He shrugs because…well, it’s a fair point. “But now I know why.”

“So what, if you knew my old man was our big boss, you’d be nicer to me? Is that it?”

You crinkle your nose and give him a look of disbelief. “No,” you say—it’s almost amused. The first ounce of humor you’ve shown around him at all. “But I wouldn’t have wasted my energy caring that you’re a deadweight in the office.”

“Ouch,” he pouts, “I bought the coffee machine on our floor!”

“It’s getting rather faulty,” you hum, “You should consider investing in another one for us.”

Satoru likes that about you. You’re interesting. Interesting not because you’re exceptionally smart or all that impressive—not that you’re bad by any means. Being accepted as an intern here must mean your resume has a degree of prestige to it, but you’re just like any other person in the building. Except, instead of shrugging off his bratty, obnoxious self, you seem to care a great deal about what he does.

It greatly amuses him enough that you’ve sparked his interest.

“You’re fun,” he chuckles, “I like you. You’re not boring.”

“Just what every woman wants to hear,” you bat your lashes, sarcastically giving him a dreamy sigh, “Not boring. How charming of you.”

He grins wider, and something in your heart does a little bit of a clench. It’s so…pretty. Everything about him is pretty. The clean, pristine button down with perfectly ironed pants. The soft, messy hair that somehow adds to his expensive look rather than take away. Those bright, piercing blue eyes that feel like you’re lost in infinity when you look into them.

He’s pretty. Pretty annoying, too—but pretty all the same.

“I’m working on it,” he murmurs.

“What? Your manners?” You snort.

“My charm,” he corrects.

“We might be here for quite some time then,” you tease. You don’t know what it is. Falling into a bantering back and forth with him is so easy—so amusing and, if you’re honest, a tiny bit exciting.

Maybe a background of wealth and fortune makes a man appealing like that. Or maybe he’s just likable. You’re not sure yet.

“You’re saying you’ll be here waiting for me to get there?” He raises a brow, winking as he adds, “So maybe you’re charmed after all.”

“That’s a stretch,” you pretend to scoff. Nevermind the hardly hidden smile on your face—that means nothing. “I just want to watch you fail, that’s all.”

“And if I succeed?” He challenges, looking at you expectantly.

You roll your eyes, deciding to indulge him in whatever petty games he has going on. “In what, being charming?”

“Yes,” he nods, “What if I succeed in being an irresistible dreamboat of an office neighbor?”

“I doubt that’ll happen,” you bite your lip in an attempt to fight back a large, dimpled grin. It’s funny, you think—just up until a few hours ago, all he ever managed to do was pull your lips into a scowl. Now, it feels like it’s impossible not to stretch them into a smile. “But, if it does, I suppose I’ll eat my own words.”

“No,” Satoru shakes his head, lips curled into a serious, unsatisfied frown, “No that simply won’t do. I need better than that.”

“Okay,” you finally laugh. It’s radiant. It comes from your belly and vibrates through your chest. He’s somehow good at it—just one coffee grab during your lunch break, and he’s already managed to earn the sound of your joy so easily. Something about that tickles a weird, unfamiliar spot under your ribcage. “Lay out your terms.”

“You have to be my girlfriend if I manage to make your eyes turn into hearts over my handsomely unbeatable appeal.”

It’s cheeky, his grin. Wide, confident, and still boyishly hopeful. You start to wonder why you ever disliked such an easy to fall for smile.

“That’s pretty bold,” you note.

“I’m bold about the things I want.” You pretend that those words don’t make your heart do a helpless flutter.

“Okay,” you nod, agreeing as you take a final sip of your coffee and hand him the empty cup, “I’ll agree to these unlikely terms. You can start by bringing me another coffee.”

“You got it, boss,” he salutes before doing a giddy little jog to the counter and ordering you another coffee. It’s cute. It has your heart in a scarily fast chokehold.

Somewhere in the heat of the moment, as you watch him fumble over his wallet and almost drop his card while he goes to pay, you think he may have already won the terms to this ridiculous agreement.

But you won’t tell him that, you think. Just to drag out the eager, hopeful look in his eyes that dart over at you and shoot you a sly wink.

———————————

here is part two as promised for @enyathedrakaina bc they sent me cat pics

[nouearth]

“POLKA DOTS AND MOONBEAMS”

steve rogers x male reader.

𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅 & 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓—headcanon [ 4.1k ] 〳 part one

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒—male reader 〳 domestic!au 〳 mid-century!era 〳 'roommates' 〳established relationship 〳 secret husband!steve 〳 mentions of period-homophobia 〳 brief quarreling 〳 sexual content: top!steve, bottom!reader, love-making, breeding, milking, praising, verbal, dirty talk, body worshiping, guidance.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑.

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who coasted the city and was on a mission to find the best spaghetti and meatballs with you.

‣ "Verdict?"

‣ Steve's gaze looked right past the fork held before your lips, watching your mouth and expression twist and turn like the spaghetti noodles around the fork prongs prior.

‣ "It's good... not great. The sauce isn't as thick as I'd like for it to be... but it tastes fresh? Basil leaves adds a nice balance to the acidity... but the meatballs are a little overcooked. What do you think, Steve? I'm too picky, aren't I?"

‣ It was written all over your face. Satisfied, but not impressed.

‣ Unlike the last restaurant where you two had the misfortune of eating bloated pasta noodles and watery red sauce, this place was edible and especially generous with their serving.

‣ Decent, if Steve had the chance of writing a one-worded review for the paper.

‣ "You're not picky, just particular, but I agree. Red sauce is good—Padrino's still better. Meatballs are pretty tough, aren't they... but I do like the flavor of them. You can tell they used a fattier mixture compared to the rest. A lot of garlic too, which makes up for the lack of it in the sauce..."

‣ "Not as good as Mama's?"

‣ "The moment we find a spaghetti that's as good as your mother's, is the day we find a way to squeeze water from stone, (M/N)."

‣ "Don't mention that to her. I don't need her ego to be any more inflated than it already has been."

‣ Dates like these were never boring.

‣ No matter how many times Steve had watched your face wrench in disdain or light up in surprise, he always found it a joy to watch you participate in this arbitrary—now routinely—idea of critiquing spaghetti and meatballs so earnestly.

‣ To be fair, it wasn't like you two had a slew of options to make dates seem... more like dates.

‣ In fact, there shouldn't have been any options offered on the table in the first place.

‣ Any intimations that you and Steve were on a date would've been subject to a location change.

‣ Most likely, a candle-lit dinner in a jail-cell, dined over cold hard concrete, and Steve was sure the spaghetti and meatballs served there was going to clutch last place in his ranking.

‣ Though, Steve was hopeful that the romance would still be alive and well had it ever come to that point.

‣ You had a thing for restaurants with a gimmick.

‣ "Seven out of ten sounds about right?"

‣ "What about dessert? We can't leave without getting the tiramisu, Steve."

‣ "Since when did we factor in desserts for the scoring?"

‣ "What—since we started. Don't tell me you've been only ranking the spaghetti and meatballs... it's all about the experience, the... the je ne sais quoi—heard that on the radio once!"

‣ "The je ne sais quoi—this is why I wanted you to be the one logging everything down, (M/N)!"

‣ It took more of a toll on him than it did on you.

‣ Well, if it did, then you did a stunning job at maintaining your usual optimism.

‣ Whenever you two were out in public, Steve felt hammered by this distance pushing him apart.

‣ It was a conscious effort on both ends—a natural one that pertained to the business of being in a homosexual relationship

‣ Or just being a homosexual, period.

‣ Steve understood it. He abode it. And he hated it.

‣ Often, when the conversation between you and him would come to a slow, Steve would look right past your shoulder, right at the lucky couple who were in his sight-line—a gentleman with an impressive mustache and his lady—and simply stare.

‣ His thoughts wandered.

‣ The gentleman was unabashed in his public flirtations with the woman.

‣ Massaging her hands, tending to the aches in her knuckles with firm, but appeasing presses.

‣ The smell of his cigar was pervasive, but the lady didn't seem to mind. It seemed like she thought it was rather charming when he blew a smoke towards her face.

‣ One hand would run up her arms in several strokes, rough callous grinding down her goosebumps, and the man would compliment how soft and supple her skin was.

‣ The lady would bat her eyelashes, giggle at the man's public display of affection whilst also maintaining some sense of courtesy to halt his advances when a pair of curious eyes were enough to render her cheeks scarlet—like the lipstick she had worn for the evening.

‣ Steve hated this restraint. This lack of freedom that forced him to talk to you as if you were his co-worker.

‣ To look at you as if he had no affection for you whatsoever when that was further from the truth.

‣ To touch you as if you were an infection that could cost him his life, and him to yours.

‣ That wasn't completely off from what society thought of people like you and Steve, was it.

‣ "It's not nice to stare, Steve... quit it."

‣ "If I can't even look at my own lov—you, what else am I supposed to do?"

‣ "Steve—come on, not now. You know how it is. It's hard, I know. But... we can't just be cooped up in our pad and wear out its virtues. It's nice to go out every once in a while, even if—it has to be like this."

‣ "It's just not—fair. Maybe—maybe we can do something. It doesn't feel right if we're doing nothing about those bar raids too. They're increasing, you know? Becoming more violent and—"

‣ "Hush. People are staring to look."

‣ "Why do you seem completely fine with this? Hiding ourselves—"

‣ "Look, I don't like it as much as you do. Hell, it's killing me on the inside that I can't even smile at you like how it would naturally come. But I'm okay with hiding—because it's for my safety, and most importantly, for yours. I don't ask for much, but I've envisioned the near end of my life to be fulfilled and labored with no regrets. With a house where I can harvest my own apples from my own tree. With a lazy pup that knows better than to eat through my laces. All of that would be possible because I hid—no—because I endured. And I would heavily prefer it if you would join me in that life. Call me a coward, spineless, or selfish, but I don't want it to be our last, Steve. It's terrifying—to know that any day I could lose you to violence and persecution, myself included. So, please—just hold it out for longer—that's all I ask of you."

‣ Most of all, Steve hated that he was envious.

‣ He wished he could be the one wiping sauce stain off your lips.

‣ He wished that he could hold your hand over the table and stroke the ring on your finger that you could've kept on.

‣ He wished that he could stop the tears from welling in your eyes like he often did back at home.

‣ He wished that he could tell you that he loved you, either with a mouthful of meatballs or none at all, because in the end—it would've felt better than communicating those three words with three taps of his foot to your shin.

‣ You nearly reached over for his hand to calm him down, but pulled your back straight upon the fright of a passing waiter and opted for the cipher that was could only be cracked between you and Steve.

‣ Three gentle kicks to his shin, once more to his other leg, and Steve sighed for pardon, returning the cipher gently to your own shin.

‣ He wished he could openly compliment how handsome his husband looked tonight, ramble how grateful he was to have you in his life, or complain about how you kicked him a little too hard, but that was all well and fine because it meant that you were still present.

‣ Freedom—All of it, the positives and negatives, without the looming threat of a policeman pummeling you and Steve with a nightstick afterwards—because that was normal.

‣ Because that was life.

‣ A life that will pay in the long run.

‣ "Check, please."

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐃𝐄.

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who ambled the misty street of Brooklyn Heights with you, the night dew giving everything a hazy look as you and Steve passed through moist air, side-by-side.

‣ "I was brash tonight, Steve. I apologize."

‣ "No, no... you were right. If anything, I was being a fat head. I was out-of-line. I'm sorry."

‣ "You were right too, you know. It's not fair. It's not that I don't want to do anything about it, I really do. I just—it can't be the two of us tackling something bigger than us. Everyone is petrified, Steve."

‣ "I know... but if we somehow all come together in some kind of union, then maybe—we can call for a difference. Show them that enough is enough. Show them that fear is no longer something they can instill in us."

‣ "Like a rebellion or something?"

‣ "Well, if it has to come to that, then so be it."

‣ "You know a guy, don't you..."

‣ "I know a guy."

‣ "Is it Bucky?"

‣ "What—how'd you know?"

‣ "Steve, you only know one guy."

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who was detoured into a dark alleyway between business building blocks. There was the droning sound sound of night, the low and humming resonant as the city had fallen asleep, all but two guests.

‣ "(M/N), what are we—"

‣ "All that quarreling made me forget to tell you how dashing you looked tonight. You know I especially like your hair combed back like that, Steve-o."

‣ He didn't need much of a hint as to what you were getting at.

‣ Squeezing in between a narrow passageway that would luckily only admit two bodies at a time, you and Steve were obscured from any wandering eyes.

‣ From judgement of the world.

‣ "Steve, you ought-ta listen to me more. Blue polka dots look darling on you."

‣ "If I recall correctly, you were the one who wanted me to wear a pink tie, darling."

‣ "Pink would've made me sauced my pants..."

‣ "You. Are. So. Vulgar."

‣ Shadows cast over his squashed body against yours, the moonlight only lighting the parts that mattered the most right now.

‣ The laughter that left your mouth after each peck Steve would grace you with.

‣ The lips that had him feeling withdrawal symptoms after an unbearable few hours of watching you lick sauce off your lips.

‣ The hand that tug Steve closer by his tie.

‣ The eyes that drew Steve in closer, until the tip of his nose touched yours.

‣ "Have I told you how much I love my cologne on you, darling?"

‣ "Have I told you how much I prefer your cologne rubbing off on me, as opposed to me spraying it on directly?"

‣ Slowly, breathing, pacifying; Steve's invisible stubble made your mouth twitch with a scratch, one of your many quirks he found himself silently obsessing over.

‣ And that was enough to push him over the edge, and finally kiss you like he'd wanted to since the evening had started.

‣ It was slow, almost careful like Steve was afraid of breaking you.

‣ Steve wasn't expecting this self-restraint from you. He wasn't expecting your hands on his jaw, tenderly massaging at either sides to keep your hands preoccupied while he slid his tongue alongside yours.

‣ He wasn't expecting to hear his own pulse because you were so stubborn in maintaining this control—you refused to summon urgency by vaulting your moans into the back of your throat.

‣ But Steve knew you more than he knew himself. He knew how you liked your eggs in the morning. He knew the perfect temperature for your bath. He knew you from the mole on your back, to the stance when you were impatient.

‣ He knew that if he led one of your hands right here—feeling the cusp of his growing bulge—that you'd give Steve what he wanted, and fall completely apart.

‣ And Steve knew that—by the eager palm of your hand, shoving into his unbuckled pants and groping—he was right.

‣ "Steve—just fuck me right here, yeah? I can't take it anymore."

‣ "Honey, we don't have any slick..."

‣ "Then give it to me raw. Use your spit. The rain. I don't care, I need you—"

‣ Your lips were warm and soft when Steve kissed you from rambling into the void again. His hands were against your stomach and chest, and your moans sent shivers down his spine.

‣ "Christ—turn around."

‣ Against the brick wall, teeth sinking into your forearm, you took Steve in without any regrets. Cold sweat breaking over your skin like evening dew collecting on window sills.

‣ "O-oh, fuck—slowly, Steve—"

‣ You could feel Steve's heart beat against your back, pushing further into you, huffing into your neck.

‣ "I love you."

‣ "I love you."

‣ From then on, you and Steve lived without any regrets.

𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍.

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who relished every inch of your body; with his eyes, with his mouth, with his hands, with his body, with his being—until you found yourself transported wholly to all different kinds of sensations, and he'd repeat to discover new ones for you.

‣ "You're good at this, you know."

‣ "Humor me?"

‣ Steve was mouthing at your inner thigh, one hand stroking your leaking cock, and the other pumping his Vaseline-slicked fingers into you.

‣ He looked up from his eyelashes, teasing your sack with a lick.

‣ Another lick, because he liked being distracted by your body arching off the bed, crinkling the sheets in the process.

‣ "Good at loving me. You know what I want, what I need—just like that. Putting another finger into me without asking of me if you can. Twisting—fuck—turning me out, all based on how my body responds to you."

‣ "Well, it's not difficult to gauge what you need. Your nails dig into the sheets when it's too much. Your fingers and toes curl when the pleasure's coming in. Your hips roll—when you need more, or a new fix. I'm no magician you're making me out to be, (M/N).

‣ "You notice all of that? That's embarrassing... and here I thought I was being alluring..."

‣ Steve layered his thick cock in slick, capping the tin and tossing it to the bedside counter after.

‣ He teased your prepped rim, observing how the ring of muscle would catch a string of his pre-cum and latch onto it with a clench.

‣ At the sound of your moan, at the sight of you toying with your nipples, at the torn decision between preening—you knew that he liked the sight of you biting your lips—and ceasing his taunts.

‣ Steve's cock veins pulsed, his cock pleading for him to fill that delicious hole before him, otherwise it would live in agony for as long as it could leak.

‣ "I do, and it's not embarrassing. I love how you—mm—like that. I love how you immediately wrap your arms and legs around me when I finally push my cock inside of you.

‣ "Oh, Steve—"

‣ "I love how you call my name, just like that. Say it again."

‣ "Steve..!"

‣ He pressed his forehead against yours and groaned with you. His hips racketed off your ass in a slow, but increasing rhythm.

‣ You held onto him, hands over his neck, anchoring him close until the only way you could have your fix of air was through Steve's lips.

‣ Steve's mind was empty, except for the thought of your hot tongue roaming into his mouth and the swelling grasp your walls had around his loving cock.

‣ "Like that... I love how I can decipher every meaning behind the way you call out to me."

‣ "Fill me up so well, Steve—baby. Can feel you deep inside of me. Ruining me with your cock. Your balls slapping against me, God—Steve!"

‣ Your moans tasted delicious on his tongue. If they were seeds, they'd bloom colorful hybrids of fruits because your love for him couldn't be defined by one singular hue.

‣ You were an array of colors—a prism conjured by the way Steve loved you.

‣ Red, because you were gritting your teeth as Steve had you taking him balls-deep, filling you up to the brim, and stretching you to the shape of his pistoning cock.

‣ "Fuck me harder, Steve—"

‣ "You're taking me so well, darling..."

‣ "When have I not?"

‣ Orange, because Steve rendered you speechless except for a few gasps, with his cock grazing your prostate and his hand over your cock, stroking while kissing at your neck.

‣ "O-oh, fuck—oh, fuck!"

‣ Yellow, because you were on top, straddling Steve's lap and yielding to the nearing high that you both had been gauging.

‣ You took your sweet time to make love to Steve with your body. Hands braced on his chest, combing your fingers through the light hairs, deeply rocking back and forth on his cock after a couple of lighthearted bounces.

‣ You marveled over his well-built body, following the contours of his muscles with one hand while silently admiring his broad chest, perky nipples, and wide shoulders with your tongue.

‣ The smell of aftershave on him was infectious when you came up for a brief kiss. You kissed at his lips, then his chin, licking at the short blades of stubble before pulling away to preen again.

‣ Your back straightened and you spread your thighs apart for Steve to get a good look at how hard he was making you.

‣ Your cock throbbed, swollen a pronounced shade at the tip, bouncing to the rhythm of your hips, all while you devoted your mouth and tongue to Steve's thick fingers, suckling and laving your tongue over every digit, every vein, every knuckle—thanking him for opening you up so well with the slick of your saliva.

‣ Steve was absolutely keen on watching you worship him with one hand tucked behind his head, the other stroking your cock when he would finish appraising your body with a couple of fond strokes.

‣ "God, look at you. You're so beautiful. I could do this all day, watching you ride every vein on my cock..."

‣ Green, because you built up enough energy to reverse your straddle and take the lead for once. You wanted Steve to see all parts of your body, especially the asset that had been drawing out those glorious moans deep from his gut.

‣ You knew it was a pretty sight that would teeter Steve closer to the edge.

‣ Sweat ran over the plump mounds of your ass as you were propped up on your forearms, slamming down onto his thick cock.

‣ Skin rippled when your ass repeatedly hit his groin, and then prickled, when Steve grabbed a handful of your sweaty flesh out of pure enchantment before swatting it as a stimulus to your slowing hips.

‣ "How's the view?"

‣ "Stunning..."

‣ Blue, because your body was covered in shivers from the way Steve had captured you into his arms and pummeled icicles into you from behind.

‣ Kneeling upright, Steve had embraced you tightly, supporting your core with a flat palm while simultaneously engaging his, thrusting into you.

‣ His hand was around your throat to feel every vibration that would squeeze from your throat and then pour into his mouth like a saucer of milk as he swallowed your sweet moans.

‣ Like Steve's cock, his other hand was equally uncompromising. He squeezed into the pulsating veins of your cock, stroked your shaft, and teased your glans with a thumb.

‣ When you sank back into the dip of his hips, Steve would propel you forward with a strong thrust, forcing you to fuck his closed fist in midst as he held you from ever retreating back on all fours.

‣ He loved that dazed look on your face. Wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. Flushed like how you were abashed by his compliments to your novice cooking, yet only a hundred times worse.

‣ He also loved the way he had fucked you into being inarticulate, muttering a slurry of words—warnings of you coming soon, Steve would later learn after turning his ears up.

‣ "Steve, stop, stop—I'm going to c-come—seriously—"

‣ "Come for me, (M/N). I want to see you stain the bed. Want to see you come because of me. Only me. Want you to drench my fist and—Christ, there we go..."

‣ Violet, because you were red, and Steve was blue.

‣ You spilled heavily over his fist, shooting large, thick ropes of cum over the bed sheets. The sound of the cum splatters making your cheeks run hotter than the warmth drawing out of you.

‣ Each spurt shot further and further the harder Steve pounded into you and milked your orgasm with unrelenting strokes to your shaft.

‣ His thighs slapped into yours, resonating the bedroom with a sharp thunder that was sure to wake up the tenants.

‣ His cock punctuated deep into your guts, hard and sweet against your prostate.

‣ You cried out as Steve battered your insides with his cock, with his undying love for you. Biting into your shoulder to contain his groans, but Steve had enough of this restraint, of constantly holding himself back.

‣ He growled behind your ear, filtering out the resentment society had instilled in his body as he let his grunts loose, replacing that bitter feeling with the antithesis of knowing that he wanted to live life to the fullest.

‣ With a house that grew oranges alongside your apples.

‣ Steve thrusted harder.

‣ With an indifferent cat that couldn't care less about your torn shoelaces.

‣ Your moans hitched at the sharp snap of his hips, his cock digging somehow deeper into your guts when he pushed you lower into his groin.

‣ With a fulfilling life that was lived without regret.

‣ Steve felt himself come undone upon the last thrust. Every fiber of his muscle unraveling like pointe shoes after intense wear.

‣ He held you tight as he shuddered against your, his pulse anchored and soothed by the palm of your head on his cheek, stroking him affectionately.

‣ Silken white, he spilled his hot seed deep inside of you, weakly propagating the warmth from the outer rim of your raw, swollen hole, then to the deep depth of your walls and prostate, milking himself until he was jelly in the legs, until you were creamed, from inside and out, with his thick cock.

‣ You and Steve shared one more kiss, another breath, heaving and panting like you two had never kissed before, before his stance eventually gave out and made him collapse over your body.

‣ "Think—I might bump the restaurant earlier up a few spots, (M/N)..."

‣ "Why's that?"

‣ "Must've put some kind of aphrodisiac in that spaghetti... I'm deeply spent."

‣ "I disagree. It must've been that couple! I told you it was all about the experience—that je ne sais quoi that I've been talking—"

‣ "You really aren't going to stop saying that, are you?"

‣ "Shouldn't have fixed my radio if you knew you were going to be disappointed, Steve."

‣ "That's where you're wrong. If you think anything about you is disappointing to me, then I'm not being a great husband, am I?"

‣ "Well, look at you being all sappy tonight."

‣ "Too much?"

‣ "Never too much. I'm far too gone to ever think otherwise, Steve-o."

‣ "Me too, darling. Me too."

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[misctf]

Exploring the Tribes

“Dude! Way too much info.” Jeff made a face of disgust and took another swig of his beer, “I’m all for “love is love”, but I don’t wanna hear about your uhhh...”

“Look dude, it’s about time I get to brag. I’ve nearly fucked all the tribes on Grindr. On this vacation alone, bro.” Connor replied, “You and the rest of the guys get to brag about all the pussy you get, why can’t I...?”

“Damn I don’t know man. It’s just...” Jeff adjusted his cap and chugged the rest of his beer, “We’re on vacation with the rest of the bros. Of course we’re gonna talk about our scores.” Jeff smirked- with a body like his, he was scoring well, “I don’t doubt you’re getting plenty of dick. I just don’t want to hear about it.”

“Yeah, and I didn’t want to hear about that time you banged my sister, but here we are.”

Jeff smirked as he recounted the memory, “She has a great rack...” Connor punched his arm, “Fair I deserved that.”

“And I’m a top. I don’t take dick.”

“Whatever dude, can’t you just enjoy the beer?” Jeff sighed, “Besides, what the fuck is a tribe anyway?”

Connor chuckled, “Shit, I forget we make it complicated. It’s a way to describe gay guys. Well, at least their looks.” Jeff nodded, his mind drifting elsewhere, “Like, a bear is a hairy heavyset guy. A twink is usually more feminine and hairless. Like you.”

“Fuck off dude. Girls like it when my muscles are clean shaven.” Jeff shot back.

“Joking, you’re too muscular to be a twink.” Connor replied, “But dude, stay on topic. I’m so close to having fucked a guy in each tribe on this trip. Like just a few more. But I’ve had a really hard time finding an otter.”

Jeff chuckled, “That some kinda weird animal shit?”

“No, otters are like bears, but a lot skinnier.” Connor replied.

“And you want to hook up with one of these guys?” Jeff raised an eyebrow, “Skinny and hairy. What kinda guy would want that?” He flexed one of his biceps and grinned.  

“Well yeah, gotta complete the quest.” Connor shrugged, “But I haven’t come across one since we’ve been here.”

“Oh yeah?” Jeff chuckled, “I have a deal for you. If I find you an otter, you gotta stop talking to me about this shit for the rest of the trip.”

Connor laughed, “Yeah, okay bro.”

“No seriously. I’m a great wingman! Remember Chet and that sorority girl with the slutty tattoo? That was all me, bro.”

“Alright dude. I’ll play.” Connor chuckled, “And how are you going to find this otter?”

Jeff shrugged, “Hairy and slim. Fuck dude, I’ll find ‘em in no time.”

Connor smirked and slapped his friend on the back, “Well I appreciate it, dude. But I think I’ve already found one.”

“No fucking way man, where?” Jeff asked, looking around the bar.

“You can’t miss him. He’s pretty slim.”

Jeff continued to look around, barely noticing as his muscles started to deflate. It started in his legs- his well sculpted calves becoming thin and petite. He inadvertently put a hand on his abs as he felt his muscle twist and contract, just before they deflated, leaving his toned abdomen flat. Connor smirked as he watched Jeff’s pecs follow suit- the muscle behind them atrophying at an alarming rate.  

“I’ll miss those.” Connor chuckled.

“What was the dude?”

“Nothing man.” Connor watched as Jeff seemed to shorten as his back muscles shrunk into nothingness, “You haven’t noticed him yet?” He watched as Jeff’s muscular arms thinned out- years of training at the gym gone within just a few minutes.

“No I haven’t.” Jeff chuckled, “You sure you’re not seeing things, bro?”

“No, he’ right there.” Connor insisted.

Jeff’s eyes narrowed and he stood up to try and get a better view. But he wasn’t used to his new frame and nearly fell over as he tried to balance himself, “Fuck dude, I need to lay off the drinks.” Jeff looked at his skinnier arms, staring at them closely. Connor sipped his drink, watching Jeff trying to make sense of it, “Shit... dude... I...I look small?”

“No way, I think you look perfect the way you are.” Connor said, guiding Jeff back to his chair. Jeff blushed at his friend’s touch.

“Sh-shit dude.” Jeff shook his head, “I uh...” Something was wrong. He knew he wasn’t this skinny. As he looked closer at himself, he felt he was missing something. His pecs, his arms, his abs, “Fuck Connor, dude something is...”

“Dude stop distracting me! I’m trying to find that otter I was telling you about.” Connor smirked, “He has to be one of the hairiest guys I’ve seen.”

Jeff felt nauseous. With a grunt, he felt his skin come alive. It burned, only to be replaced by an itchiness that seemed to originate from each follicle of his clean-shaven skin. Relief came suddenly, but was short-lived. He watched with terrified eyes as hair emerged from the top of his bathing suit and traveled up his abdomen. The dark brown hair sprouting from his skin was curly and thick, moreso than anything he ever grew naturally. And as it climbed up his abdomen, thickening rapidly, it finally reached his pecs where it spread like wildfire.

“Ahhhhh.” Jeff moaned as he felt the hair climb around his ass and move up his back. Simultaneously, Jeff raised his hand to feel the thick beard forming along his face, “Connor, what the fuck?” He breathed out, sweat washing over his body and dampening his new fur. Connor grinned, yanking a clump of Jeff’s new arm hair.

“Dude, what’s the matter? You’re distracting me.” Connor complained, “Damn, if only you could see this otter now.” Jeff tensed as Connor rubbed a hand through the dense forest on his chest, “What did you say about guys who wear earrings?” Jeff winced in pain as his ears were stretched and two gauges embedded into his ear lobes, “Oh and remember that sorority girl? What did you say about her tattoos again?” Jeff winced again as tattoos carved themselves into his arms and legs, “And shit, what kinda guy would wear a speedo like that?” Jeff looked down at the yellow speedo that now barely covered his junk and hairy ass, “Oh right- according to you, those things would make someone gay and slutty, right?” Jeff’s eyes widened, “So I guess this otter I’m seeing must be a massive gay slut.”

“Wait! Connor! Please...” Jeff’s mouth went slack and his eyes widened as his brain was rewritten. His love for tits quickly vanished- replaced by a love for a man’s touch and dick, “Please... I...” Jeff winced as he remembered the best way to suck a man’s cock. A strategy that always got his hookup to cum, “I’m not...” His gym routine vanished from his brain. Cardio and squats. All to help keep his ass as fuckable as possible, “Connor...” Jeff felt himself fall forward, and for brief moment everything went dark. But when he opened his eyes, he found himself being supported by the strong arm of the man sitting across from him.

“Yo, you good?” Jeff looked up at the muscular man in front of him and grinned.

“All good hun!” Jeff giggled, tracing his hand along the man’s muscular arm. Fuck, how’d he get so lucky to find this stud?, “But I think I should lie down for bit.”

“I have a place in mind.” The man said with a grin.

“Oh yeah big guy?” Jeff leaned in and placed a hand against the man’s pec, “I need you to take me there. Right now.” He breathed. The man grinned and the two left the bar, walking quickly back to the man’s room, “My name is Jeffrey by the way.”

“Connor.” Connor replied, as the two entered the bedroom.

Jeffrey grinned as Connor threw him onto the bed. Clothes were quickly discarded. And soon, moans filled the empty room.

______________________________________________________________

Jeff groaned as he pushed himself out of bed, ‘Fuck,’ he thought, seeing the time on his phone, ‘I must’ve gotten wasted.’

His whole body ached, especially his ass. Probably fell on it while he was drunk, he figured. He wobbled to the bathroom and stared in the mirror- taking in his muscular frame and clean-shaven form. He smirked- even feeling like shit he still had his looks. He opened his phone to take a pic and cringed.

“What the fuck?” He whispered, “Who the fuck is that?” He stared at the newest saved picture in his phone. A hairy, slim man, “An otter...” He whispered.

There was a sudden knock at his door and he groaned. Shuffling over, he opened it to find Connor.

“Dude what’s up?” Connor chuckled, “Quite the night last night.”

 “Yeah, really? Fuck dude, I drank way too much. Check this out.” He showed Connor the picture, causing his friend to laugh, “I don’t know how it got on here.”

“You don’t remember?” Connor laughed, “Before you left, we took a whole bunch of selfies.”

Jeff groaned, “Hope he didn’t think I’d be into that.” He chuckled, “Shoot your shot, I guess.” He deleted the photo, “So I take it the night was successful?”  

Connor smirked, “Oh it was.” He winked. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing him again soon. He was begging for more.”

“Gross dude.” Jeff chuckled, “So is that it? Done with the quest?”

“Close dude, very close. Just a few more tribes left.” Connor grinned. Jeff felt a shiver run down his spine. He looked at Connor, a feeling of fear and excitement welling up from within the deepest part of his psyche, “So, wanna grab a drink?”

Jeff shrugged, “Sure, dude.”  

[woso-dreamzzz]

Head in the Clouds II

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: You remain dazed and confused

You went crashing to the ground, skidding across the wet pitch.

"You feeling okay, champ?"

You groan, clutching at your ribs as you roll onto your back. "Can you tell Bright to please leave me alone? You're friends, right?"

Lucy laughs. "Funny, kid. Real funny. You feeling good, though? Okay to continue?"

You huff and let Lucy pull you up, wiping the rain from your face.

Chelsea had upped their game since that red card, truly, and as one of the younger ones on the pitch, you were baring the brunt of it. It seemed that they had forgotten you were once their academy player just like you did.

Though, to be fair, yours was more of you had genuinely forgotten while this seemed more like revenge on their part.

"Atta-girl," Lucy says, clapping you on the back.

"Hey," Ingrid approaches as well," That looked nasty. How are your ribs?"

"Sore," You answer," But I think I can keep going."

"There's that winning mentality!" Lucy says," Sticking it out until the end."

Ingrid gives Lucy a pointed look. "You know, I think I preferred it when you were more protective over her. She's hurt her ribs, Lucy!"

"I'll be fine."

"See! She'll be fine!"

Ingrid rolls her eyes but moves to take the free kick you've just won.

You go streaking up the pitch after it.

Carter and Charles both run up either side of you just as you release the ball from your foot, sending it towards Hampton.

One of them jostles you off balance and you trip, going careening forward.

It must have been a pretty forceful shove because you gain a lot of air, very quickly.

Quick enough to meet up with the ball you've already released.

You smash the top of your head against it just as you land on the ground.

"Ow..." You say to no one as your ribs flair in pain again as your body meets the pitch.

Over the ringing of your ears, you can't hear the roar of the crowd as your head propels the ball just an inch too far for Hampton to get her glove around.

It slots itself in the net but you're still faceplanted in the dirt to have even noticed.

Someone grabs you, Patri, you find, and shakes you almost too violently.

She's saying something but all you can do is mindlessly stare in confusion at her.

"I taught her that!" Lucy's proud voice cuts through the ringing in your ears. "Did you know? I taught her that."

"Sure, Luce," Comes Keira's dry reply.

"What? I did! Even the landing!"

"I..." You say, rubbing a sore spot on your head. "What happened?"

Patri laughs, jostling you again. "You just scored, idiot!"

"Did I?"

"Yes!" Comes the chorus of voice arounds you and you glance around to see the rest of the team.

"Oh...When did you guys get here?"

"How are your ribs?" It's Paredes now and you frown, pressing on them.

You wince. "I'll live."

Keira sighs. "God, Luce, couldn't you teach her anything else? We don't need another Lucy Bronze running around."

Lucy grins. "I think we do. She's my protégé."

"I don't think Alexia would be happy hearing you say that."

Lucy suddenly turns pale, eyes wide. "Oh, shit. Don't tell her I said that."

They go back and forth while you still stare up at confusion in the screen displaying the 3-0 score to Barcelona.

"Seriously," Paredes says," Your ribs. Are they okay?"

"I can still play on them."

"So they're not okay." She gestures to Jona to sub you off.

"But..."

"We need you for the final," She says to you," Besides, the match is nearly over. They're not catching up to us now."

Bruna comes on in your place and you sit, dazed and confused on the bench.

Jana giggles at your face, poking your cheeks as you try to mull over your goal.

"Are you sure it counts?" You ask.

"Are you saying they should disallow it?"

"No!" You say quickly," But...I don't know."

"Tell you what," Jana giggles," If this football thing doesn't work out for you then professional clown might."

You frown. "Huh?"

She mimics the face you pulled when you found out the ball went in.

Your eyes go wide.

"Oh no."

She grins. "Oh yes. It's been, what, five minutes? I've already seen ten separate Twitter accounts with it as the profile picture."

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . UNFAIR WE’RE NOT SOMEWHERE MISBEHAVING ; — how blue lock boys react to you sending them a nude at practice.

FEATURING: nagi seishiro, bachira meguru, itoshi sae, itoshi rin + mikage reo.

warnings: f!reader, all characters written 22+, teasing, possessiveness, bachira sends some back. note: it’s been so long since i’ve done some hcs but aaaa i wanted to do these so hope u guys enjoy <3

✩ ˛˚ . NAGI SEISHIRO

nagi’s body feels heavy as he rests on the bench during training, offering himself a few moments of slacking off before the rest of the team are on his ass again to get moving. but it’s just enough time for him to watch the way the little notification from you pops up just as he unlocks his phone, letting the nozzle of his water bottle rest between his lips as he clicks.

but he almost whimpers when a few moments later his screen is consumed by a pretty little photo of you in his shirt, draped in the oversized material despite the way you’ve pulled it up over your tits — allowing him to see the way you’ve opted for only that and a pair of pretty panties.

nagi’s suddenly glad that he’s at training so he can play off the flush and heat of his cheeks as exasperation, but the throb of his cock is heavy underneath the tight fabric of his training shorts. he still knows he’d rather be at home with you — lips latched around your tits so he can suckle blooming marks into the skin as his hands push underneath the hem of your underwear.

“no fair, pretty thing.” he mumbles underneath his breath as he sends you a cute little emoticon back, signature little :x face that only seems to spur you on as you send another — fingers resting between your thighs as you sink into the comfy sheets of his bed.

sei <3 : such a pain, know i can’t touch you yet.

nagi types back quickly as the thick muscles in his legs spread, readjusting the suddenly restrictive fabric before he’s sending you a quick, lazy selfie back. the snowy peaks of his bangs are messy and slightly wet with sweat as it falls over his sleepy, lidded gaze but the want is apparent in his features despite the cute pout he wears. like a silent little plea not to go too far without him, having to leave you in bed without him was so bothersome already.

but just as you reply with a little but i miss you, sei he almost jolts when reo calls his name back onto the pitch — trying to settle his own heavy breathes and the racing of his heart as he allows himself another quick look at the pretty photos you sent him. but maybe if he scored five more goals they’d let him off early, he’d score ten if it got him home fast enough to feel the press of your skin under his palms and the hug of your body against his as he types out a quick reply, suddenly driven and motivated after his little break.

sei <3 : hey, come on. gotta wait for me, angel.

✩ ˛˚ . BACHIRA MEGURU

normally it was bachira randomly sending you nudes throughout his day, after workout selfies or just random photos of himself where you can see him naked in the mirrors dotted around the locker room in the background. but today, you wanted to be the one to catch him off guard — knowing practice has ended and he was probably getting ready to come home already.

are you done practice, bachi? your little message reads and he’s already grinning as he types out a reply before it’s followed by a photo of your pretty pussy, folds spread and already wet like you’re luring him home. he giggles before he almost moans, so fucking shameless as the rest of the team still clear out their things after their shower.

but it’s almost perfectly timed with the way bachira’s just finished washing himself off, letting his towel fall and pool around his feet before he’s walking back into the showers — the last of his teammates clearing out and thankfully missing the way he’s already rock hard because of you.

bachi <3 : you’re so cute, baby. lemme see a lil more, m’kay?

“mhm— so mean teasing me~” he sings to himself as he gives his cock a few slow strokes, whimpering before he’s taking a quick selfie in the fogged up mirror in the locker room. his hair is messy and his smirk is smug, but even through the hazed glass you can still see the length of him.

but bachira fucking throbs when his own photo is immediately followed by another from you, your fingers deliberately pressing against the intimate skin between your thighs — so he can’t see the way your swollen clit is probably yearning for him to bathe it in needy lavs and rolls of his tongue before he’s closing his lips around it and suckling languidly. but he knows just how to get what he wants.

bachi <3 : 1 new attachment.

the video is short but just enough for you to see the way he’s angled the camera above him, letting you see the way his pretty abdomen twitches with every needy squeeze of his fist around the sensitive glands of his cock as he pants. his amber gaze is narrowed and focused on the camera as his next moan stretches into another cheeky smirk. “come on, baby. touch it a lil for me, mhm.. lemme see it— please~”

✩ ˛˚ . ITOSHI SAE

you should’ve known better, sae taught you better than to tease him while he was at practice — he was already so unforgiving on the pitch that the last thing he needed was something to make him even more frustrated. so his fingers twitch into the side of his phone when the first notification he opens during break is you still lying in his sheets, wearing nothing but the fabric of the comforter over your body.

he knows you’re bare because that’s how he left you — he’d spent all night with his bare chest pressed against yours after he’d lost himself in the tight hug of your cunt before bed. he’d basically fucked you to sleep despite the soft, chaste kiss he’d pressed to your temple before he left — a contrast to the carnal desire his rough pace held lastnight. but this is how you thank him?

sae <3 : what do you think you’re doing?

sae’s reply is sharp despite the way he finds himself taking another look at the photo, letting his sharp gaze crawl along the exposed skin of your collarbones and shoulders before it falls to where the blanket just hides your tits. he already feels so wound up, so eager to get this practice done and over so he can remind you to behave.

but then you reply once more with a cute, sleepy looking selfie and it’s insane the way he wants to ruin you — to have your drowsy lidded gaze decorated with tears as he reads your little i just woke up! how’s practice? his cock throbs and he can almost hear the dreamy lull your voice would take with the innocent little question, he wishes he could’ve kissed you awake and let you feel just what you do to him before he left — maybe then you’d be good for him.

sae <3 : so you woke up and decided to tease me, hm?

sae’s next text is driven by the sudden weight of his cock in his uniform and the way desire twists in his abdomen — he’s pretty sure his aura has changed completely, to something darker as he watches the manager hesitate to tell him break is over even if for a second when it brings his sharp gaze away from his phone.

another vibration of his phone against his palm and he knows you’re gonna pay for this when the next notification is you having pushed down the comforter — letting him finally take in the shape of your tits that are still littered in the marks and bites he decorated them in last night. he stretches out the ache in his neck before he offers you another final reply as he burns the image into his mind, tense as he swallows roughly and returns to the pitch.

sae <3 : i’ll deal with you when i’m home, sweetheart. behave until then.

✩ ˛˚ . ITOSHI RIN

you always thought it was amusing to tease rin, maybe it was the way he tried so desperately to hold down his need for you — to pretend you didn’t have as much of an effect on him as you actually do. you were his and although you knew how seriously he took practices you always thought it was fun to get him a little more riled up — maybe because he always made sure to fuck you into the mattress when he got home.

you always know he’s on break because he always makes sure to text you, wondering if you’re awake or if you’re still in bed but today you’d woken up as he’d left, already missing the hug of your huge boyfriends frame around your figure and the press of his cock into your lower back.

so you only think you’re being considerate, like an offer to help him out with the frustration he’s probably still swallowing down at practice. it’s instantaneous, the way rin’s gaze turns darker when he gets the first glimpse of your body in the photo you send him — his sheets tangled between your legs as his shirt rides up your body to reveal the curve of your tits and swell of your ass underneath.

rinnie <3 : what’re you trying to do? anyone could’ve seen this.

his jaw is clenched tight as he types out a reply, gritting his teeth as his pretty features drop into a frown — you’d think he was mad, he is — mostly because he can feel the dangerous throb in his cock that’s already straining against his practice shorts. he almost growls at your ‘innocent’ little reply that only consists of a good morning rinnie <3 followed by another, lewder angle as your drool worthy thighs spread.

rinnie <3 : i don’t like people seeing what’s mine.

rinnie <3 : you belong to me.

it’s insane, the effect you have on his well trained body — it’s almost lukewarm the way he’s unable to control himself, suddenly too warm underneath his clothes and he’ll tear this field apart if it means it gets him home to you faster. he’ll have you crying on the end of his cock as soon as he sinks into you, every snap of his hips making your body tremble — as will your lungs when his hands grab and knead at your body.

i know, i’m yours “fuck—“ rin grits as he feels the heat of his need for you lick at the base of his spine, he feels warm around his shoulders and if he squeezed his phone any harder he’s convinced it would shatter. but he’s so fucking hard, already wound up at the memory of those same words falling from your pouty lips everytime his cock grazes along the sweet spots inside of you, like a hormone-drunken mantra that only pushes him to fuck you deeper, rougher until he’s all you fucking know.

rinnie <3 : this game won’t take long. don’t move until i get home.

✩ ˛˚ . MIKAGE REO

reo was obsessed with you, truly — it was almost impossible for him to leave you alone in the mornings he had practice, finding himself squeezing and palming at your body as he kissed you goodbye. his pretty little girlfriend who felt so perfect under his touch, who was so responsive when he made sure to kiss your tits goodbye too.

so it’s almost encouraged when he’s barely even there yet and his phone vibrates, a smug smirk resting on his lips when the first good morning message he receives is a pretty little photo of your body — nipples probably still wet from his spit as your hands palm at each. he loved the responses he could pull out of you, almost using them as a way to hide just how needy he was for you.

reo <3 : oh? you miss me already, bunny?

reo’s reply is teasing despite the way he has to press his free palm against his cock — repositioning it so the sudden bulge in his sweats wasn’t so obvious considering he still has to change when he gets to practice. but you were pretty, something that was all his and it was perfect — especially when his text is accompanied by another with your hand pressed between your thighs with a lil mhm, need you back.

reo <3 : you gonna let me spoil you when i get home, yeah? ‘s that what you want?

fuck— he’d let you devour him, to let you use him for your own selfish needs as you lure him between your legs, your hands twisting in his hair as you grind and smear your pussy along his mouth. yeah, doesn’t feel as good when it’s not you. you reply and he smirks, smug as his cock twitches in his sweats, pre-cum smearing along the dampening fabric as he covers his face with his palm.

reo <3 : you can do better than that, bunny. think you can hold out?

he hopes he can, reo wants nothing more than to turn around the car and come back to you — to cover you in even more marks and brands, so everyone knows that you’re his pretty little possession. he knows he can’t but you’ll wait for him, he’s unintentionally broken you that way, spoiling you in the pleasure that only he can give you as you type out another little mhm, hurry though :( followed by a short little video of your fingers sinking into your walls, wishing it was his.

reo <3 : how ‘bout you lemme see more then? wanna see what’s waiting at home for me.

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[inuiiwonderland]

You like him a lot but later realize that he doesn’t like you in that way. You then decided to give up on your feelings for him and move on. And move on you did. You fell in love with somebody else and he later fell in love with you, but it was already to late.

A/n: This is a request for @mwankami! I’m so sorry for this being late but here you go! I hope you like it🙃 (I’m sorry if the characters seem ooc😞 I haven’t played twst in a fat minute) also I didn’t know if you wanted reader to be female or male so I just made it gn! Anyways I hope you still like it!

-

Floyd leech

You could only stare longingly at him as he messed around with his teammates.

He looks so beautiful

You were so busy staring at him that you didn’t hear your friend calling your name from beside you until he pinched your arm.

“Ow! What the hell ace!”

“Finally! I was calling your name so many times now! What were you staring at anyways?” You look directly back at floyd and that was enough to answer his question. Ace groans.

“Ugh don’t tell me you were looking at Floyd again”

“I was not” You lied. Causing ace to roll his eyes.

“You definitely were” You just ignored him and grabbed your bag from off the floor as you stood up.

“Hey where are you going? Practice isn’t over for a few more minutes!”

“I’m going back to my dorm. I have a presentation for Mr. crewel class and I want to get it done with early”

“Ughh fine. But text me once you're done!” You waved him off and walked away. But not before taking one last look at Floyd before exiting out the gym.

-

Your friends always question you about your “small” crush on the unhinged tall eel boy. Always saying how can you like someone like Floyd leech? The scary second year who likes to mess and bother anyone and the Floyd leech with unpredictable mood swings.

But you never really cared about their opinions on Floyd.

You find Floyd to be very beautiful.

His fair skin and tall height really caught your interest. But what captured your attention the most were his eyes. The pretty heterochromia eyes that he has really puts you in a trance and you could stare at them for hours.

Floyd leech has you deeply head over heels for him

But the thing is…Floyd doesn’t seem to like you in that kind of way.

He likes you as a friend yes but as a crush no. That’s the only thing that’s stopping you from telling him your feelings.

You sigh as you make your way back to your dorm. Maybe you should just give up on floyd. You already dropped so many obvious hints about your feelings for him but he is either oblivious or doesn’t feel the same and is ignoring your obvious hints.

“Oh floyd…what are you doing to me”

-

4 months later

Today is night raven college basketball team's big game against royal sword academy.

Cheers could be heard in the gym as everyone cheered for the night raven basketball team. You remember ace excitedly telling you about their big game a few weeks ago and that you should definitely come instead of being locked away in your dorm like always.

And of course you came. You didn’t want to disappoint ace by not showing up to his basketball game.

“C’mon you got this ace!” You and your friends cheered. Ace looks up at you guys and smiles before passing the ball to one of his teammates.

As the game continued, You couldn’t help but stare at one specific player.

His long brown hair tied up in a bun and the total concentration looked on his face as the game grew more intense.

You practically have heart in your eyes.

You all cheered loudly as he managed to shoot a score which resulted in night raven winning against RSA. You cheered loudly and felt your heart skip a beat as jamil looked at you and winked.

You ran down the bleachers and congratulated Ace before walking up to Jamil and congratulating him on the win.

“You did amazing out there!”

“Thank you y/n” He smiles. You two began to talk, unaware of the pair of eyes staring both of you down.

He frowns as he watches how nervous and giddily you were around jamil.

“What’s with that frown dear brother? You just won against the royal sword academy basketball team. You should be smiling” Jade teased. He was fully aware of what caused his brother's mood to instantly change.

“I’m going back to the dorm” Floyd tells his brother before exiting out the gym doors.

Floyd leech is in love with you. But sadly, he fell in love when you started moving on.

Now he’s the one who’s head over heels

And it’s already too late

-

Jade leech

“Are you listening y/n?” You blinked a couple times before mentally cursing yourself once you notice that you have completely spaced out.

Jade beautiful mismatched eyes stared at you as you hurriedly looked away while mumbling something underneath your breath. Already feeling shy and embarrassed.

“ ‘m sorry jade. I didn’t mean to space out” Jade smiles.

“Don’t worry y/n. Are you sure you're alright though? We can study another time if you’re not feeling well”

“Oh no! I was just thinking about something! Let’s continue studying”

“Oh? Are you sure?”

“Hundred percent sure! Don’t worry”

The two of you continue to study for the next hour. Every so often you would sneak glances at jade and watch as he reads through some notes while asking if you understand the subject.

You tried your best to concentrate, you really did! But his smooth, calm voice and beautiful heterochromia eyes were easily distracting you from paying attention.

The study session between the two of you soon came to an end and you had to stop yourself from asking him to stay for at least a few more minutes.

“I’m looking forward to our next study session. And good luck on tomorrow’s test” He says as he packs up his things. The two of you bid each other goodbye and you watched as he walked further and further away from your dorm. Once he was gone, you walked quietly back to your room as Floyd words ran through your head.

“Sorry shrimpy, but it seems like jade doesn’t like you in that way”

“Ah really?”

“He said he only sees you as a friend. Aw man and I was starting to get excited to have you as my in law! Stupid jade” You giggled at your friend. Ignoring the throbbing pain in your heart knowing that jade doesn’t like you back.

-

7 months later

You walk down the empty halls of night raven. It was lunchtime so everyone was in the cafeteria. You make your way outside with two trays and smile once you spot a certain someone.

He was leaning against a tree with his eyes closed. You could tell that he was asleep.

“Silver” You call out. You gently lay down both of the food trays before shaking silver awake. He slowly opens his eyes and your heart skips a beat once his beautiful violet irises meet yours.

“I brought you your lunch” You say as you sit comfortably beside him. You hand him his tray and he smiles at you.

“Thank you y/n”

“No problem. So, how’s training going so far?”

The two of you chatted for the rest of lunch time. Talking about how your day has been so far and other stuff. The two of you were so engrossed by the conversation that you two didn’t hear someone calling out your name from the distance.

Jade watches as you laugh at whatever silver said as his cheeks grow pink and he’s looking at you so lovingly.

“Man seems like jellyfish got to them before you” Floyd says behind him. Jade just watches as you feed silver some of your food. He swears he could see the hearts in your eyes as you feed silver.

He forces a smile. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his heart.

“They are happy. That’s all that matters”

And he walks away with a broken heart.

-

[theweepingangelofcas]

Eat The Rich, Feed Them to the Cats - Moriarty Bros x Reader

Anyone else in the USA having a crisis? Me too! Let's all maladaptive daydream together that our sweet dear Sherlock boys are with us, on our side.

Title is inspired by a fav nonprofit cat shelter of mine, Wonky Hearts Animal Haven. Please go check them out. They have stories that are truly so heartwarming and uplifting, it's a great distraction.

(No, I do not believe all men are bad. I myself have a male fiance whom I love and trust very much. But the election has left me feeling helpless and scared, as though my rights or my body don't matter. I'm writing this to vent. I respect if your political opinions are different than me, but I ask that you do not attack me in the comments, my dm's, etc)

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

William Moriarty

You two had been together for years now, since you two were teenagers. You've shared everything. Hopes, dreams, ideals... So when he saw someone try to harass you simply because of your gender? That won't do.

"Oi! Pretty broad!"

The random man's words did little to phase you. You didn't even speed up your footsteps. But your dear William stopped in his tracks.

Oh, yes, that's right. No one had ever been stupid enough to cat call you with him around before.

"Y/N..." his gaze had turned to the man, unblinking, "Did you not hear what that man just so crudely yelled at you?"

You shrugged, stopping in your tracks to try and let him catch up to you. He didn't dare move.

"It's nothing, William. Happens all the time to us ladies."

If you didn't know better, you'd say his eye just twitched.

"Is that so? And here I was, thinking it was mostly noblemen who were the rotten part of our society."

He smiled then. Like his mind wasn't 100% alongside you anymore.

His cane left the ground, being weilded in both hands almost like a baseball bat.

Or, more accurately, perhaps he was holding it like a mace.

It was safe to say, no man went within a few dozen meters of you for quite some time after that. After all, you always had your dear William with you now.

Louis Moriarty

Oh, did you think William would be protective?

Ha!

Louis is SO MUCH WORSE

To be completely fair, he was already practically a guard dog for both you and William. You had been engaged to him for a few months, and each passing day he just wanted to spend more time by your side.

This was how he found out how truly awful some men could be.

You two had boarded a train back to Durham, coming back from a lunch date together. You two had managed to score a semi-private spot in the lunch car, meaning that he could hold you without too much fuss from the rest of society. One hand was in yours, the other wrapped around your waist. You had both ordered drinks, his a sophisticated Earl Grey tea, yours a refreshing seltzer water. That was when your waiter came back up to you both.

"Sir, I know this is quite uncouth of me to say, but the gentleman a few seats down won't stop staring at your lady friend there." He gestured to you, specifically your chest, and you seemed to shrink into your seat instantly.

Louis scowled, "Thank you for informing me. You're dismissed, good sir."

The waiter stepped away, and Louis's grip on you got tighter.

"It's fine, darling. You mustn't fret." You tried to comfort him, but his scowl only deepened.

"I will fret." He turned his head, catching eyes with a man a few booths down. He did, indeed, seem to be staring at you. "And I'm going to teach him to respect others, or die trying."

You saw Louis stand, and approach the man in a terrifying calmness. He shook his hand, and gestured for him to follow him.

If you happened to see a person-shaped figure get thrown out of the train that day, no one has to know.

Albert Moriarty

He understands deep, seething rage. He dealt with it much when he was younger. So he understands that the best way to deal with it, is to take care of it yourself.

Normally, women weren't allowed into a prestigious college. But Albert, with his power and wealth, managed to convince the school that having one woman among its ranks wouldn't hurt. Hence, you being halfway through a science and medicine degree. Albert supported you all the way through. Your husband truly was a lovely, understanding man.

"It was fascinating, my love!" Your eyes lit up as you opened your textbook to that day's lesson, "We learned about the chambers of the heart, and all the illnesses and diseases that can correlate to it's health. Isn't that so cool!"

His smile widened at seeing you happy, "It certainly is, my dear. Do go on, teach me more about it."

You nodded, eyes bright, about to keep talking before-

"I'm sure anything is fascinating to a woman. But can she even understand it? Why, she should be at home, not trying to educate herself on something she could never possibly understand."

A man had approached you both. His smug grin was enough to dampen your joy immediately.

Albert blinked, his expression blank, before turning his head back to you, "My dear, would you like my walking stick, or do you want to use your textbook? After all, this fine gentleman seems in need of an anatomy lesson."

Your grin came back, "Your walking stick, please. I'd rather not get my favorite chapter dirty."

The man's eyes flew open as you took the wooden cane from Albert, weilding it more like a weapon than an aid.

"Now," The excitement in your expression was back, "I'll give you an anatomy lesson as I break all of your bones in alphabetical order."

[copperbadge]

Homework from the therapist this week was to research mindfulness and its impact on emotional regulation. I had pointed thoughts about how we culturally define "mindfulness" and I think she wanted me to deal with that rather than make her do it, which is fair. (I think there is one definition of Mindfulness that is, at root, "Whatever a person in authority over you thinks will make you need less attention" but I am a Notable Cynic.)

Anyway she sent me a site about DBT, which was fine but mostly useful for its citations. Still, it had questionnaires, and I would normally check in before doing that kind of reflective work but she did send me the website. So I took the "Interpersonal Emotional Regulation Questionnaire" which measures how much you depend on other people to regulate your emotions. It's pretty standard, you rate a statement 1-5 based on how little (1) or much (5) it is like you.

There's not a lot of literature about what the end score means, but most of the papers talk about how a certain score is pretty normal but the higher end of scoring indicates a person is likely relying too heavily on others to regulate their emotions for them.

Out of a hundred points, with the minimum possible being 25, I scored 29.

There's no real literature on what to do when you bomb a personality test in the opposite direction from most people*, but I guess I'm an outlier in a lot of ways. Although, being fair, this is one section of the questionnaire, and does ANYONE like it when someone does these things to them?

It helps me deal with my depressed mood when others point out that things aren’t as bad as they seem;

Having people remind me that others are worse off helps me when I’m upset;

When I am upset, others make me feel better by making me realize that things could be a lot worse;

When I am annoyed, others can soothe me by telling me not to worry;

Having people telling me not to worry can calm me down when I am anxious.

I know what I want when I'm miserable about nothing is to be reminded that I'm miserable about nothing and told I shouldn't be. I suppose that might be the point, like if someone saying that to you works for you then you might be letting someone else drive a little too often, but still.

* Yes, I know you can't bomb a personality test, I am being Le Humorous.

[thydungeongal]

I've once heard Dungeon World described as the game that people who never played DnD think DnD is. At the time I thought it was a pretty fair description - even though I don't like DW (despite being a FILTHY NARRATIVIST) and I don't know much about DnD's mechanics. I'm curious as to what you think about that description, given that you actually like DnD and know about a lot more systems than I do

So okay, I was for a while very into Dungeon World, and I actually think that description is something of a mischaracterization of it. Dungeon World is actually remarkably loyal to D&D in many ways, and it's clear from reading it that the authors actually know what D&D is. So that critique seems to me to have been written by someone with a chip on their shoulder.

Having said that, I am also not overly fond of DW and it actually boils down to the fact that it is so similar to D&D. Like, obviously that was the point, since it basically is an exercise in "what if we translated D&D into the PbtA framework." But it does it in such a way that I feel it ends up not utilizing any of the interesting ideas of the PbtA framework.

So my main problem with it ends up being "it's D&D but with a 2d6 system and graded success and moves." It's still got ability scores, alignments, levels, spell slots, all just bolted into PbtA. I could just play D&D. It does not utilize any of the interesting pieces of Apocalypse World that I think could have elevated it: it completely ignores stronghold-building despite that being a feature in AW that could have worked perfectly in its old-school D&D pastiche. It ignores AW's playing around with scale. And most importantly, it's ultimately just an adventure game.

So yeah, I like D&D and I like PbtA, but Dungeon World is too similar to D&D for me to justify just. Not playing D&D instead. And it utilizes the PbtA framework in a manner that is so unsatisfactory to me that I would rather play one of the better PbtA games.

[rekino2114]

Hey, been loving the Nayuta Makima posts! Could I request one of reader and Makima taking Nayuta to the fair or a theme park for the first time?

You and makima taking nayuta to a theme park

A/n:we're back again with my favorite au. Thanks for the request

(Here are Part 1 and 2)

Recently, nayuta had been constantly asking you and her mom to bring her to a theme park after hearing from some of her friends at school how cool it was. So when your day off arrived, you knew exactly how to spend it.

"*gasp* it's so huge, mommy, daddy look, everything looks so cool, it's gonna be so fun"

"*giggle* I'm sure it will, sweetie, so what would you like to do first?"

"Look! There's cotton candy, I wanna eat all of it"

"I'll get you one but you can't eat all of it yuty"

"Eh? But it's so good"

"I know, but then you're gonna get sick, and you don't want that again don't you?"

".......no"

"Good girl, don't worry though, I'll make sure to buy you the biggest one there is"

"Really? Thanks daddy, you're the best"

You indeed brought nayuta cotton candy and helped her eat it since it was a bit too big even for her. You continued to walk around the park until your daughter gasped again and pointed to a booth

"Oh do you want a prize from that nayuta?"

"Yes, please, pretty please, that puppy plushie is adooooorable, I want it, pretty please"

"Well how could I say no to such a polite little girl? I'll win it for you right now"

"Yay! Thanks, Mommy. I love you"

"I love you too, sweetie, now let's see, what do I have to do?"

"I'm sure you can do it love, you just have to hit the target with gun"

"Oh, I don't need a plastic gun for that"

"Uh?"

"There's no one around, so I think it's OK if I show off a bit, I'm sure nayuta would love that"

"*giggle* alright, I wouldn't mind seeing that either"

Makima smiled at you and got a few feet in front of the booth while you took nayuta's hand and led her away from her. Your wife got into position and raised her hand in a finger gun position

"Bang"

An invincible force hit the target right in the middle, piercing it directly

"Oh, lucky me, I got the highest score"

You could practically see stars in nayuta's eyes as she started up at her mom in awe

"That was awesome! You're so cool mommy"

"Please, it's nothing, I'd do anything for you, sweetheart. Take this, it's yours now"

The half devil immediately hugged the plushie while giggling a lot as you pressed a kiss to makima's cheek. She then grabbed yours and nayuta's hands and continued walking

"What? That's no fair, I can't go?"

You reached a roller coaster that nayuta wanted to ride, but unfortunately, you found a sign with a height requirement needed to enter, one that nayuta didn't pass.

"Sorry, but it seems you're too short"

"B-but I'm tall, I........ah! yes, i can get on daddy's shoulders and then I'll be tall enough"

"I don't think that counts, if you get on that, yo could get hurt yuta"

"But-but-"

"I promise we'll find another attraction. In the meantime, I'll get you some ice cream to make it up to you, ok?"

"Cotton candy"

"But....you already had one"

"I want more!"

"*sighs* All right, I guess I can get you another because of this, but no more"

Nayuta nodded rapidly, and you hugged her to cheer her up. You then brought her another cotton candy that she ate while on a safer ride. After she had more fun and was happier, you decided to end the day by going to a ferris wheel

"Wow! I can see everything from here"

"Yeah, it is really pretty isn't it?"

"Oh! Oh! Look! That's my friend, hiiiiiii"

You giggled at how adorable she looked, waving while she was in your arms

"I don't think he can hear you yuta, you can talk to him when we get down"

"OK daddy"

You pulled her away from the window, and in your lap where she started to play with the plushie you brought her, you turned around to see makima holding her phone to take a picture of the scenery

"The view from here is beautiful"

"Not as beautiful as you"

"Hehe, such a charmer, you don't need to compliment me anymore, we're married now"

"Well, I'm just telling the truth"

"Oh really? Then I suppose there's nothing wrong with me calling you the most beautiful and handsome person on this world"

"I think you're kinda exaggerating now"

"Oh I'm most certainly not, and I'll prove it to you"

She leaned closer to you and kissed your lips passionately. You got lost in the moment until you heard nayuta make a disgusted sound from under you

"Yeeeew, that's so yucky"

"It's not, we were just kissing"

"It's still yucky"

"Whatever you say"

You rolled your eyes and looked back at makima, who was now giggling, she pet your head for reassurance and whispered in your ear

"Don't worry, your kisses aren't yucky. She's just still young"

"Yes I know, you're the best kisser I know"

"The same goes for you"

[yunjardi]

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

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝!𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 [𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢], 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱 [𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞], 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥, 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 [𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 😞]

𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚/𝐧: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝 '𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝' 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 :)

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

jake is still as lovely as ever.

he still kept the house tidy, the plants watered, the laundry done, all that good stuff.

he still always greets you with a warm hug and passionate kiss when you arrive home from work, excited to be able to spend the evening with you after being apart all day long.

he still does everything in his power to be the best husband in the world (to which he, of course, succeeds).

he's still your cute puppy.

however, the one thing that has changed about jake was his confidence in the bedroom.

previously timid and wary of being the first to make a move, jake was now usually the first to initiate anything of sexual nature.

jake has always had a high sex drive, but he used to let his bashfulness get the best of him. so now that he was more confident about expressing himself, sex became even more prevalent in your relationship.

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

"i missed you so much, my love," jake expressed whilst hugging you tightly, leaving soft kisses on the top of your head.

you hugged him back just as tight, or arguably even tighter, letting your head rest against his chest as you breathed in his scent.

you could tell it was a laundry day for him from the whiff of fresh linen-scented detergent that he uses on the clothes and various other fabrics that go through the washing machine.

after breaking your embrace with jake, you placed a kiss on his pretty lips before taking off your coat and hanging it on the coat rack.

jake seemed to perk up at the sight of the tight long sleeve shirt that was previously hidden underneath your jacket. he practically drooled at the way it hugged your curves perfectly with every move you made. soon, his eyes wandered downward to the trousers you wore; form-fitting at the waist and hips but flared out near the bottom. you looked perfect. but to be fair, to him, you always looked perfect.

"how did i score such a pretty wife?" jake suddenly blurted out, catching you by surprise. he pulled you back toward him until your back was resting against his chest, giving him a chance to hug you from behind.

"and how did i score such a perfect husband?" you asked rhetorically in response to his sweet comment.

jake chuckled as he brought his hands down to your waist, clutching you closer.

the moment was so tender, endearing, loving, but that didn't stop jake's infamous cheekiness from waltzing in and ruining the sweetness.

jake was too much of a perv when it came to you, so it was far from a surprise when you suddenly felt something poke your lower back.

he really couldn't help himself.

like come on, who wouldn't pop a boner when looking at their precious wife being unintentionally sexy?

"jakey?" you giggled with fake innocence, "is there something you want to tell me?" you cozied yourself into his embrace even deeper.

jake lucked out on the fact that you were unable to see how red his face had become. the combination of your words and his actions made adrenaline rush throughout his body.

"get in the bedroom," jake managed to state boldly despite his bashfulness, "don't keep me waiting, sweetheart."

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

you were quite surprised at how quickly the situation turned sexual considering the fact that you had just come home from work, but you weren't complaining in the slightest.

there's no better way to be welcomed home than having your sweet husband kneeling between your legs eating your pussy while finger-fucking you, right?

jake's tongue worked wonders against your needy cunt all while his fingers were buried deep inside you, causing you to moan out loud for him.

"baby," you breathed out as you laced your fingers into jake's soft brown hair, "i need you inside me. now, please."

jake smirked against your warmth before pulling his fingers out of you and licking them clean, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time which made your heart race as your poor, needy pussy clenched around nothing.

"you're so cute when you're needy," jake chuckled sexily before pulling his newly-washed shirt over his head, revealing his toned torso. you gulped at the sight of how alluring he looked, becoming increasingly needier with each passing second.

"are you ready, angel?" jake asked amorously against your ear, causing you to whimper in response as you squirmed underneath him.

you gasped at the way his thick base felt when splitting open your tight cunt. your cute whimpers and moans caused a rampant flame to spark in jake's core, turned on to the max at how you were already feeling overwhelmed with pleasure. his cock slid in and out of your aching pussy at a perfect pace as you held tightly onto jake's forearms. jake's eyes were dark with lust as he adored the way he fucked you so hard that your boobs were beginning to pop out of the pretty bra that he bought for you.

"mmm, right there," you mewled out as jake's hips pistoned roughly against yours, his pretty tip poking at your sweet spot with every thrust, "fuck, that feels so good, daddy." you moaned out uncontrollably, not even noticing that you let the word 'daddy' slip out of your lips.

"daddy, hm?" jake smirked, causing you to turn your head away, blushing, "is that what you wanna call me, angel? want me to cream your pussy so i'll be a real daddy?"

all you could do was let out pathetic choked moans in response to his dirty talk.

jake was surprised at how well he was able to uphold his dom-like demeanor considering how weak he felt after hearing you refer to him as 'daddy'; a major turn-on for the guy.

"now turn around for daddy," jake commanded you as he pulled his wet cock out of your cunt, giving you a chance to turn around and arch your back for him, "yeah, that's right. just like that, that's my girl." jake praised you whilst teasing your clit with his swollen tip, using his free hand to squeeze your pretty ass before landing a spank on it, sliding himself back in right after.

"fuck," you moaned airily at the feeling, jake's head falling back and jaw dropping at the way your walls immediately gripped onto his length. jake's back shots sent your body into a frenzy, you walls throbbing all over his cock as your arousal slowly dropped down the base. "that's it, that's my girl," jake groaned out at the feeling of your cum leaking down his shaft, "yeah, keep cumming for daddy." you tried your best not to close your legs from the overstimulation that you were experiencing so that jake could continue.

jake gently helped you sit up so that he could pull you onto his lap, guiding you back down onto his dick, your thighs trembling gently with every inch that passed through you until he fully bottomed out.

after shifting your hips around to find a comfortable position, you began to sit yourself up and down on jake's throbbing shaft, fucking yourself on him. you paid close attention to the way he dug his nails into your hips as his eyes rolled back, his body becoming overtaken by pleasure.

"are you gonna cum, daddy?" you whined, jake's thick cock deep inside you, "i want it inside me, please." you begged loosely, only making jake lose his mind even more. "keep doing what you're doing and you're gonna end up having my babies," jake growled against your neck before leaving gentle bites and kisses on your supple skin.

at this point, it was becoming painful to hold back his orgasm, so without thinking, jake let himself blow his load inside you, holding your hips firmly against his until he was fully finished. you let out a high-pitched moan at the sensation of jake's cum being pressed deep inside you before gently picking your hip movements back up for the last few seconds, wanting to make sure you received every last drop of his seed. still slightly panting, jake let his head fall back onto the headboard of the bed.

"you did so good for me, jakey," you cooed, still sat down on his lap as you kissed his pretty lips, making his cheeks warm up and turn red. only you could make him do a complete 180 like this; his brain went from sophisticated househusband to full-on porn star.

now he was back on 'sophisticated househusband' mode.

"i love fucking you so much that i got a little carried away," jake chuckled sheepishly, now feeling shy and avoiding eye contact, "i just hope we didn't get anything on the bedsheets; i just washed them, and i'd hate to have to redo everything before sleeping tonight."

you let out a content sigh followed by giving jake another chaste kiss on the lips.

that's the househusband you knew and loved.

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

a/n: hi gang <3 i hope this was okay enough and that you enjoyed it! i just wanted to start off with something smaller before jumping back into my bigger projects since i've been busy with school :,) i love you always and thank you for your support <3

taglist: @axartia @jjhmk @valiantwastelanddelusion @jayroseyy @ayohahaha @asaheyow @lhsng @i-dalso @bunhoons @red-xherry @duolingofanaccount @lix-freckle3 @l0st-h0p3s @leeis @muffinminnie @green-orangeade @imbaeksbae @sunghoonmybeloved @tum73er @dilftime @qoh3 @sh1mja4yun @leeheeheeseung

*bolded could not be tagged and will be removed from taglist in my next post. pls send an ask to be added to the permanent taglist & let me know if there's an issue with your tag settings! <3

©yunjardi on tumblr

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

ARAMINTA: Welcome to the first in a series of gardenside chats!

LILAC: (drily) Production really wanted to milk the whole ‘lilac’ and ‘mint’ thing. But yeah, hi.

ARAMINTA: These will occur after each round, and after any ‘significant’ event which merits a discussion. And neither will I be exempt. On that note, Lilac - I believe we’re starting with a query for me?

LILAC: Yep, you get to wet your wick on that one first. 

ARAMINTA: (...) 

LILAC: (grins to herself) If you weren’t in the competition, who would you want to win Mad About Dodo?

ARAMINTA: Sierra. Well, I think her scores speak for themselves. She’s positive and fun, and would have got along splendidly with the extended Harper clan - with family being very important to Dodo. Also, she is a very dear friend. I could have eventually come to be happy for them both.

LILAC: We like Sierra Mitchell in this house. And if you could pick someone to not win?

ARAMINTA: Hmm. I’m not sure that I feel comfortable answering this question. Still, during the show I’ll be asking our contestants - and you - to be very honest. It would be hypocritical if I weren’t the same.

LILAC: And you learn a lot about who people are when you ask the uncomfortable questions too. So, who?

ARAMINTA: In terms of people who made it to the final round? (after a pause) If I had to choose someone: Shay.

LILAC: Why Shay?

ARAMINTA: I… never actually had the pleasure of being in a household with her, but in retrospect I didn’t like how she interrupted others while they were flirting with Dodo. Possibly this is simply due to my background as a competitive equestrian - and to my upbringing - but I didn’t think that was very fair or sporting on her part.

LILAC: I see. And likewise you didn’t think it was ‘very fair or sporting’ on Orlando's part either?

ARAMINTA: I, well…

LILAC: I mean, I could say that Shay was just doing her job. And that you and anyone else could have done the same.

ARAMINTA: I actually couldn’t have, I don’t think. But that is fair. 

LILAC: Her job was to win the competition, and Dodo’s was to give everyone a chance. He could have stopped the interruptions and said “I’m getting to know this person right now, I’ll catch up with you later?”

ARAMINTA: You are right. I… suppose that even now, I can’t imagine myself as having the confidence to do that. So perhaps that has nothing to do with her and everything to do with me. My apologies, Shay.

LILAC: And we don’t even know if that’s why she was interrupting people. But yeah, we often seem to find fault with people according to our own perceived weaknesses. Anyway. The only reason why I wouldn’t have wanted Shay to win was if she didn’t, I could still get her number (winks).

ARAMINTA: (giggles) She is very pretty. Speaking of ‘pretty,’ if you could go on a date with any of the Mad About Dodo contestants, who would they have been?

LILAC: Well, Shay. I like her vibe. Val for the same reason.

ARAMINTA: It was so funny how she didn’t hide being unamused by Dodo’s jokes.

LILAC: Funny - and an indication of good taste (grins). Ariah because of her creativity and interest in sustainability. Also, I have eyes. And Robin. He’s my brother in ink (nods towards her shoulder tattoo) and I like a humble intellectual.

ARAMINTA: A humble intellectual? So no Dr Roder then? (looks shocked at her own joke) I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.

LILAC: Oh, c’mon! You’re way more fun when you’re not trying to be Ms. Perfect. (turns to cameras) Who else wants a ‘Reads With Araminta’ series?

ARAMINTA: (quickly) Any other contestants?

LILAC: Theo - she was such a baddie. Hassan and Paradise. As a freegan, I like a two-for-one deal (winks). And pretty much anyone else who was there out of good faith. Ava is free to black-widow challenge Vlad outside of this save file.

ARAMINTA: I hope that no one dies during this save file.

LILAC: Yeah, that must have been rough. But we’ll be in a safer setting than on a deserted island - well, most of the time anyway. And the Watcher will just de-deadify someone off-screen, if it does happen, and we can’t persuade Grim to spare them. But I can be very persuasive. 

ARAMINTA: That she can! Earlier she almost talked Agnes into giving her a discount!

LILAC: My biggest achievement in life, yeah. And not to downplay what Bo and the rest of your household went through, but he did get brought back to life in the end. How’s he doing these days?

ARAMINTA: Very well, actually! He owns a house now, and he - well, it’s not my place to reveal his personal business, but he’s happy (beams).

LILAC: If anyone deserved a happy ending on that show, it was him. So that’s great.

ARAMINTA: What can we look forward to for this show?

LILAC: ‘Looking forward to’ is probably a better description for the Watchers and other viewers, but yeah. We’ll have some fun. Skill building will be a component of this, and there will be mini competitions where the winner gets a date with the infamous Leo Harper-

ARAMINTA: (wrinkles nose) They do not get a date with the infamous Leo Harper.

LILAC: Yeah, actually no. But they get to spend some one-on-one time with me, and an opportunity to rack up those sweet sweet friendship and romance points. And as Araminta can tell you, any solo date is a great chance to ‘wow-wow’ the bachelor-

ARAMINTA: And that’s all we have time for today! Tune in next time to find out more how the introductory round will work, and a feature with one of the fashion houses that will be sponsoring our outfits during the show.

LILAC: Bitch, we had more time than that. You so owe me details on that one...

hope your sims ears weren't burning too hard:

@akitasimblr @tipsy-clouds @changingplumbob @enchanting-whim @linalinsims

@theosconfessions @whyeverr @westonsims00 @riverofjazzsims @invisiblequeen

@ravingsockmonkey

[violetmuses]

Play Nice - A. Aretas 🫂

Title:  Play Nice - A. Aretas 🫂❤️

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe 

Character: Armando Aretas 

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader 

Main Storyline: When Mike needs a favor, anything can happen. 

Author's Note: Here's another request! Enjoy. 💜 @vergilnelosparda

=====

2024

“Blind date? This isn't ‘95, Mike. What are you thinking?” You cracked up while shaking your head near Detective Mike Lowrey.

“All right, I'll be honest. I'm pretty sure that Armando likes you.” Mike squinted. 

“Oh, please!” You continued speaking. “I'm sorry, but even if it's true, your son doesn't really know me.” 

“Rough around the edges, but he's trying to be a good person.” Mike attempted once more. 

“Okay.” You wouldn't correct Lowrey this time and just waited. 

“Give him a chance. Please?” Mike seemed genuine. 

“Fine.” You accepted these plans for your own calendar.  

_______

When the bell chimed days later, your thoughts jumbled at first. 

You open that front door to see Armando standing on the porch and holding gorgeous flowers. 

“Aw, thank you.” You smiled because of the gesture. 

“You're welcome.” His slightly accented English beamed a little. 

For the first time, Armando reached out to hold hands and still opened the passenger door for you, guiding this moment in one car. 

Wearing this Bud Light shirt, Armando chose one trucker hat that veiled his brown eyes. Jeans clothed his legs and boots reached the pedals washe drove. 

“Where are we going?” You smiled in the passenger seat again. 

“It's a surprise.” Armando doesn't make eye contact, but when the car pulls up to this bowling alley, you smirked without hesitation. 

“Oh! Do you want me to kick your ass now?” You don't even wait for Armando to open the car door and almost jog inside. Kelly and Dorn always invited you here as well. 

“Not sure about that.” Aretas chuckled and finally met your path, ready for games. 

_____

“Shit! You're beating me.” Armando took off his trucker hat and glanced between flickered lights in the building to watch scores. 

“Told you!” You dance in terrible shoes before picking up the ball one last time and strike in return. 

“Good job, mami.” Armando slipped the nickname, but you didn't hear him yet. 

“Thank you, but I'll be fair.” Your smile reached him again. “You have the final attempt.”

“I appreciate it.” He says, waking up to the lane as planned. 

His muscular arm pulled back with strength and slammed down five pins. Not bad. 

“You're a good sport. That was really fun, so thank you.” You planned to leave with Aretas and head back home. 

______

“See you at work tomorrow?” You nodded while standing on the porch with Armando. 

“Yeah.” His voice sounded a little nervous this time around. 

“Drive safe. Thank you.” Holding the beautiful flowers, you say goodbye and watch him walk back to the car. 

Before leaving, Armando observed as you entered the house and shut that front door just in case, revving his vehicle alone. 

____

The next day, you and Armando reached your desks without really acknowledging what happened last night. It's no one's business anyhow. 

Around lunch, you found this sticky note by your computer: 

Food? - A. 🖤

“Hey! Don't leave without me.” You jumped up and grabbed your purse, nearly running again. 

“C'mon.” His rare laughter almost hits your body this time around, sounding adorable. 

_______

“So what brought us here?” The local restaurant is cute. 

“I had fun with you.” Armando fights that smile once more. 

“That's a good reason.” You nearly giggled, still enjoying this meal. 

“Look, I'm sorry for acting like a grouch when we first met.” Armando confessed. “This transition isn't easy.” 

“That wasn't just grouchy.” You then corrected Aretas. You pulled the asshole move. Mike wanted to help.” 

“Again, I'm sorry.” Armando still took the much-needed criticism. 

“I forgive you.” You accepted his words and he covered the bill.  Both of you leave side by side. 

____

Sweet moments continued. Lunch, different outings, checking on each other and more. 

When your birthday tapped calendars this year, flowers proudly reached the desk. 

"Feliz cumpleaños, cariño. Llámame alguna vez.” 

Not only had Armando sent birthday wishes, but his phone number scribbled at the bottom of this card. 

Jokingly rolling both eyes, you turn around and see Aretas moving closer. 

“Brought cupcakes for the party tonight.” Armando revealed this large box. 

“All right. Let's go, then. I guess you're not that bad.” You messed with Aretas one more time and left for the celebration at Dorn's place. 

The future looked bright again. 

[sirfrogsworth]

Froggie's (Almost) Very Productive Day

I try to fit as many out-and-about chores as possible into a single day so I only have one set of post-exertional malaise consequences instead of consequences after each day of doing a thing. So any time I decide to drive, I try to find several tasks to accomplish all at once.

My first stop was the Family Services Division in the hopes of getting some help with grocery bills. I am making ends meet, but it seems to be getting harder each month. And maybe I could have skipped my trip to Florida and saved that money, but if I don't do something drastic for my mental health, I fear this first holiday season without a parent could send me into the darkness.

I needed to do an interview to finish applying for SNAP. I wanted to do a phone interview, but the next appointment was in January. So I went to social services where they allow walk-in appointments. I waited in a tiny plastic chair for several hours until they called my name. She yelled out "Benjamin" because when most people see "Grelle" they aren't really sure how to say it. (Rhymes with belly.)

She started my interview and it was going swimmingly at first. But then she started asking questions about the house and my inheritance and my trust. I had no idea what to tell her. It feels like a mistake now, but I have had pretty much no involvement in that process. I have no idea how it works. And I started to panic because she was acting like I was committing fraud or something by not mentioning the trust. But the entire point of the trust was to protect my benefits. Nothing is mine. I own nothing. I have no access. But I had no idea how to explain that.

Maybe my lawyer can help me apply, but I did not want them investigating everything and screwing things up before we even have the estate through probate. We specifically hired a lawyer and went through this convoluted process to make sure everything was on the up and up. But she really made me feel like I was doing something wrong. And that made me panic, which probably made me look even more guilty of something. So I just canceled everything and left.

After a few hours in a crowded government office, I decided to head to a different crowded government office.

I know I didn't need it until 2025, but I decided to go ahead and get my Real ID thingie before my first flight. I was kind of hoping they'd retake my picture because my current driver's license is... well...

And I'm so glad they took my big terrible picture and made it into a smaller, more terrible picture.

People complain about the DMV, but the one near me runs like a machine. It was filled with people and I still only had a 10 minute wait time.

I'm starting to wonder if all of those 80s comedians who were all, "What's the deal with the DMV?" were exaggerating.

Good stuff, Jerry.

I head up to the counter and ask for a Real ID. She asks for two pieces of mail and my birth certificate.

And this disappointed me a little bit.

I did my research. I went to the Real ID website and used their interactive guide to figure out exactly which documents I would need. They gave me this entire checklist and I printed it out and went through all my records and mail trying to find everything.

I had to wait a week for my internet bill to come because it's the only thing I forgot to change to paperless. This took a lot of effort and I was ready to be validated for being so prepared.

And she asks for two pieces of mail.

Any mail.

So I was off to get new tires.

Driving around on 8 year old bald tires was giving me anxiety. I didn't have the money for new tires, but I remember the guy saying they had financing. Recently several of my past debts went past the statute of limitations, and so my credit score lifted itself out of the pits of "poor" and into the realm of "fair." So I decided to take a chance and apply for a Discount Tire credit card. It's a 6 month payment plan with no interest, so that didn't feel as predatory as all the credit card offers I get in the mail with 8000% interest.

We started going through the approval process and I was answering all of the questions and then I saw the name of the bank offering the credit. It was the same bank that tried to sue me and also the bank that can longer collect due to the statute. I was worried they put me on some sort of list and would deny me. But, to my surprise, they approved me instantly. And wouldn't you know it, they gave me almost exactly the amount needed for a new set of tires.

I'm hoping we'll be doing another auction of the house stuff soon, so I plan to pay off the card and then cancel it, but this was the only solution I could come up with to drive safely until then.

I was having a weird day where photos of crusty rich wide dudes followed me everywhere I went. Here is my good ol' boy governor at the entrance to social services.

And at the tire place, I noticed this fella...

Why does every rich CEO think they are a font of wisdom capable of creating compelling quotes?

Does he think no one has ever said "work hard" and "have fun"? And after he said this was he like...

"That's gold, put that in *every* store."

"Oh, and use that picture of me where it looks like a handsome gal just grabbed my undercarriage."

He probably thinks, "Well, no one has put these specific generic platitudes together into a single mega-platitude. I am a genius."

"Be honest, work hard, have fun, be grateful, pay it forward" sounds like he had a bunch of motivational posters on his wall and started reading them all at once.

Like, every line could have a picture of an eagle above it.

In any case, the guy at the tire store, Dakota, was really nice. He made the experience very low anxiety. And he really liked my Thor's Hammer keychain with built in fidget spinner.

He went around showing it to all his coworkers. "Look, it even spins!" And they were like, "Dude, where did you get that??" And I was like, "Amazon." Now I'm just imagining 10 dudes at a tire store all fidgeting their hammers.

As nice as he was, Dakota was still a salesman and had a job to do. He gave me two tire options and tried to upsell me. The cheapest tires had a "1" rating for winter. He said they get "super hard" in the cold... I tried not to giggle. But I explained I drive about twice a month and mostly to the grocery store. If it is a bad winter day, I'll just wait or get delivery. He understood and set me up with the cheaper tires.

He then checked out my car and noticed my tire pressure sensors were dying. I keep getting a warning light on my dash. Apparently they all have tiny batteries in them that die after 7 years. And you can't just replace the batteries so you have to install brand new sensors.

And this is where my social anxiety got me into trouble.

I don't actually need these sensors. They are usually inaccurate. I prefer to test my tires with an actual gauge. But I got so caught up in his sales pitch that I agreed to replace them... at $60 each. For that I could have gotten the fancier tires. I really don't care if an orange light shows up on my dash. And I looked up the price online and a pack of 4 is $30. Though that is without installation.

But still... I wasn't thinking and he was so nice that I was just like, "I want to please Dakota. Saying no might make Dakota sad." Dakota's job is selling me but that doesn't mean I have to buy anything. He would live if I had said "no thanks."

To make my blunder more blunderous, when they finished the tires he asked for my key fob. And it decided that was the time for the battery to die. And in order to reset the system for the new tire pressure sensors, you have to press two buttons on the fob for 7 seconds. Thankfully I had a spare fob at home, but if I want my fancy new $240 sensors to work, I have to return to Dakota and have him initialize them.

I really hope these are the Cadillac of sensors.

Or, like, the ones they use on Cadillacs?

They better be accurate, is what I'm saying.

I do feel safer with new tires. So I am glad I did that. And I gave them a good obligatory kick and felt the tread. They seem nice enough even if they get boners in the winter. It's crazy how bald my other tires were in comparison. Like, I can fit half my finger down into the tread on the new ones—which did not get them super hard.

The way I drive, I probably won't wear them down. They'll probably start to rot before I do.

Before I do, meaning before I wear them down.

Not before I rot.

I am not in a rotting competition with my tires.

I was then off to Sam's. I decided all of my hard work accomplishing 2 out of 3 goals deserved some sushi. So I grabbed some California Rolls and headed home. On my way out, a Hummer and a Porsche nearly collided in the parking lot. And they sort of got stuck facing each other. One of them needed to back up and they both signaled at each other like "You back up, I'm not backing up." And it was just this weird standoff between the two douchiest looking cars you could imagine.

I mean, you have to be a douche to drive a Hummer.

I still remember the mystery Hummer dialysis patient from when my dad was going 3 time per week. We could never figure out who owned the Hummer, but we knew it was not the underpaid nurses and techs. So it had to be one of the patients. And none of them seemed the type. We never solved that mystery.

That hummer started off a delightful safety yellow. (Elon would cry.)

They decided this wasn't extra enough... so they did this...

Katrina and I could never decide... are these cow spots or the world's least effective camoflauge?

There was another patient who drove this old beater...

And I loved seeing this car because we had the same one when I was a little kid. I'm afraid the aesthetics of the 1980s Caprice Classic did not stand the test of time, but it had great sentimental appeal for me.

But this maroon beast that squeaked and sputtered its way from here to there belonged to a very sweet older gentleman. Sometimes he and my dad would be dialysis buddies—sitting next to each other in the recliners. And the worst thing about dialysis was the boredom. All you have to do is watch broadcast TV with 4 channels.

All of the TVs require headphones. They give you your own set of super cheap headphones in the dialysis welcome bag. They were very uncomfortable so I ordered my dad better ones with cushioned ear cups.

His dialysis buddy noticed them and thought they looked nice. And then he revealed that his free headphones broke and he didn't know how to get new ones. He had been watching TV with no sound for weeks. So, I bought another pair with the soft ear cups and my dad gave them to his friend. And it just made me happy imagining the two of them watching The Price is Right in matching headphones.

I do have to make fun of this sweet old man a little bit. When I walked passed his car I noticed he implemented the world's most effective anti-theft device ever created.

That's right... The Club™.

If someone decides they have to have a 40 year old car with an engine that sounds like a dying hyena and a hubcap missing... they are out of luck.

But hey, you gotta protect what is important to you. And if I needed a getaway car and my choices were between his beater and the Cow Hummer, I'd take his ride for sure.

Well, I'd try... and then get arrested because The Club™ is undefeatable.

Do NOT look that up on YouTube. It's 100% true. (And the Lock Picking Lawyer doesn't count due to him being able to break into Fort Knox with a paperclip and then doing it again to make sure it isn't a fluke.)

The dialysis center is in the same complex as my local Tolerable Schnucks and I still see that maroon boat of a car every once in a while. I always smile whenever it is there because it lets me know he is hanging in there and hopefully still has sound for his TV.

Wow, I went off on a mega-tangent.

I didn't even finish talking about my day. Where was I? Oh, the douche standoff finally ended. The Porsche Douche capitulated and backed up. Probably due to the fact the Hummer Douche has 0 visibility behind him.

When I got home I started devouring my sushi. I finally heard back from my lawyer. He submitted the last of the evidence for my appeal. And I was finally able to confirm he got the records of my ECT treatments from 20 years ago. I worked so hard to get those. At first, they forgot to send all records before 2011. I had to call back and figure that out. They shipped them and they didn't arrive until a week before we had to file. Everything was so last minute and my anxiety has been... palpable. It felt like when I did my science fair project on Sunday night.

He's hoping to get a decision at the beginning of next year. He warned me that these appeals are usually rejected. And that the most effective method of approval was a hearing in front of an administrative law judge. But that could be delayed by up to a year. So I might need to figure out how to survive until 2025. As long as my brother does what he is legally required to do, I should be okay. But counting on that also gives me palpable anxiety.

And that was my day.

Every time I go out is always an adventure.

But remember...

BE NICE. EAT YOUR VEGGIES. PET CUTE DOGS. DREAM BIG. KEEP YOUR TIRES WARM... FOR REASONS. 5 LIFE LESSONS -Froggie, Mildly Famous Internet Person

[halfmoth-halfman]

viii. but i can't help falling in love with you

Pairing: Mob Boss!Price x F!Reader Word Count: 5.6k Warnings: bruises, injury, medical inaccuracies, blood, scars, scar mention, talks of abuse Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. prev | next

“Everything about it says it was just a random break-in—”

Price hums, clearly not happy with the answer.

“—the guy’s prints weren’t in the system, and he didn’t have any affiliated markings or tattoos,” Ghost continues, hands gripping tight around the back of Soap’s chair.

“We asked around on our ends,” Alejandro sighs, gesturing between himself and Valeria. “No one recognizes him.”

“We haven’t heard anything either, but I have Ayah keeping a lookout for anything new,” Farah adds from Price’s left side, trying to add some small amount of comfort to a clearly upset Price.

“It was probably some guy looking to score,” Kyle reasons from the chair across her. The dining room lapses into silence as Price sits in thought, arms crossed and fingers drumming against his bicep.

“We should ask the bird,” Nik cuts in. “If it’s someone she knows, this could be a targeted attack against her, not the club.”

“Let her sleep,” Price says, leaving no room for argument. Nik gives him a questioning look but nods and stays silent.

“We could keep a set of eyes on the hotel for a few weeks, see if anyone comes lookin’ around?” Soap suggests.

“We can’t spare anyone right now,” Ghost huffs. “Not with the way things are.”

“But—”

A soft knock draws the room’s attention to the door leading to the sitting room.

It’s the worst anyone has seen you look. Dressed in leggings and a maroon sweater that’s a little big on you, you look exhausted and run-down, with deep purple bruises lining your neck.

“He-ey—” you croak out, wincing as you give a haggard cough.

Rudy’s on his feet immediately, guiding you to the closest chair, the one directly opposite Price’s seat at the head of the table. He sits you down as you try to clear your throat.

“I told you, no talking,” he chides, gently tilting your head back to lightly press his fingers against the bruises, just like he had when Price brought you here last night. You sigh through your nose, giving a quick sorry in sign language.

“How are you feeling?” Alejandro asks. You open your mouth to answer and shut it promptly when Rudy sends you a warning look. You shuffle, reaching into the pocket of your leggings to pull out your phone.

You type for a quick second before your phone chimes, and a robotic voice answers for you, “Like I almost got choked out by a man twice my size.” That earns you a few chuckles, though Price looks less than amused.

You type again, a quiet beat before the voice in your phone asks, “What did you do with him?”

There are a few glances around the table, most landing on Price as if they’re unsure whether they’re allowed to answer.

“He’s taken care of. No need to worry,” Price answers. You nod, trying not to hit Rudy’s fingers with your chin.

“Did you…recognize him at all?” Roach asks. “Maybe you’ve seen him around the hotel or…?”

“Roach,” Price warns.

“It’s a fair question,” Nik scoffs. “We need to know if this was random or if someone’s going after her.”

They go back and forth while you type, waiting for a lull in their argument to answer. “I didn’t get a good look at him, but from what I saw, I don’t recognize him.”

“And…do you have anyone who might be after you? An old co-worker? Friend?” Valeria presses.

You swallow tightly, fingers hesitating over your phone. Rudy catches that, pulling back from you to give you a curious look.

“Canary?” Rudy asks softly, his quiet voice loud in the room's silence. “Is someone after you?”

It’s too late to lie now.

Think, think, think.

You type again, “The cops? The ones who interrogated me when I covered for you after Hasan. They seemed pretty mad, and they knew where I was staying.”

You give your best worried look, setting your phone down to fidget and pick at your nails.

“That could explain why we didn’t find anything on him,” Alex says, looking at Price.

“Shepherd wouldn’t risk one of his guys like that,” Kyle disagrees. “Especially not to go after someone who’s barely involved with our business. No offense, Canary.”

“None taken,” you sign, giving a casual shrug.

“It wouldn’t hurt to look into it,” Farah sighs. “Can you ask Kate to check around and see if she can find anything on her end?”

Price, silent until this point with his eyes fixed on you, takes a deep breath. He sits up in his chair, the room lapsing into a tense silence as everyone looks toward him.

“Rudy, how’s her neck?” Price asks.

“Still swollen, but it looks like it’s going down,” Rudy answers before turning to you. “You’ll have to take it easy for at least a week. Minimal talking and no singing.”

You give him a salute and a thumbs up.

“I’ll call Kate and see if she finds us any information,” Price sighs. “We’ll close the club tonight while the rest of you find out what you can and put out feelers—see if any of the other families are trying to branch out. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

Price stands, and the others follow suit, taking their leave with gentle goodbyes and smiles aimed toward you.

“König, hang back a second,” Price calls as he walks to your end of the table and takes the seat next to you, pulling the chair closer to fit you between his spread legs. König nods, lingering near the door as Price gently traces his finger along the bruises on your neck.

“Any news from Majka?” Price asks quietly.

“Nothing yet. Conor said he’d let me know if he heard anything,” König answers. Price nods, a brief flash of disappointment across his face.

“Okay, thank you. Keep me updated.”

“Yes, sir,” König says, giving you a nod before leaving the room.

The room sinks into a comfortable silence as Price looks over the purple and blue of your neck. He’s as gentle as possible, fingertips barely ghosting over the swollen skin.

“How are you?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper as he pulls his fingers away to slide his along your cheek and cup your jaw. You set your hand over his, squeezing softly with a small smile.

You shrug half-heartedly, trying to reassure him without talking, lest you incur Rudy’s wrath.

He nods in understanding, leaning forward to kiss your head softly. When he pulls away, you lean forward, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

“Gaz and Roach brought your things over last night. You can pick whichever room you want, and we’ll move your stuff there,” Price says, perching his head on top of yours with a comforting hand rubbing up and down your back.

You reach for your phone, keeping yourself attached to him as you type, “The room I was in last night…?”

“My room,” Price chuckles.

You pull back to look up at him questioningly, tilting your head. “Then where did you sleep?”

“In one of the spare rooms,” he shrugs. “We got done late, and you needed the rest.” You roll your eyes, clicking your tongue in disappointment.

“If you like the room that much, you’re welcome to it,” Price teases.

You narrow your eyes, glaring playfully at him before you type out your answer, a smirk on your face as your phone says, “I’d prefer the room with you in it.”

Price’s brows raise as he smiles down at you, but there’s a hesitance in his eyes. “You’re sure? I don’t want you to feel like you have to after what happen—”

You set a hand on his chest to stop him. Setting your phone down, your hand slides up to rest on his cheek, gently pulling him closer and closer until you’re barely centimeters apart.

“You make me feel safe,” you rasp before you move forward and close the gap.

For a brief moment, Price stills, and anxiety rockets through you at the thought you’ve overstepped.

You move to pull away, and he lunges, warm hands coming up to frame your face as he kisses you with a year’s worth of bubbling tension finally boiling over.

You don’t know how you feel as you kiss him. It’s a combination of emotions you haven’t felt in so long: relief, desire, comfort, joy. They all swirl together into the one emotion you’ve been chasing since your wedding.

Safe.

-

Living with John is suspiciously easy.

It feels as if you've known each other for years, and that same familiarity extends to the rest of the club.

You remember nights with your father as a child, listening to him tell you old war stories from his chair while you took and apart and cleaned his guns in front of the warm fireplace. Those memories bring a fondness to your heart that you always thought was the peak of what familial love was meant to be, but it’s nothing compared to your life in the manor.

Dinners with Kyle, Farah, and Alex are filled with laughter and teasing and almost always made by you and John. There’s no tense silence as everyone picks at their plates, no stilted conversation about business and only business, no large work dinners that force you to parade around in an uncomfortably tight dress while you serve your guests.

When Soap and Ghost stay the night, you sometimes run with Soap in the mornings, turning morning exercise into a friendly competition. There’s no pushing on his end, no yelling at you to pick up the pace, or warnings about falling behind. It’s all encouragement and jokes and teasingly elbowing each other as you walk the rest of the way back to the house.

Sometimes Ghost joins you instead, the two of you enjoying a quiet run around the property. He indulges you in the few questions you have about the flowers you find. The answers are short, as you expected, but he’s surprisingly knowledgeable about the flora around the manor and has a cute eagerness to his voice when he explains a flower’s meaning to you.

After a month, Nik finds you one afternoon, grinning at you as he wipes the black grease from his hands onto his overalls. He leads you to the garage, where he shows off the extensive collection of cars he’s worked on, both classic and modern, and tells you to take your pick. You try to assure him you don’t need anything more than your beat-up car—it may be falling apart, but it’s wormed its way into your heart.

“That’s fine, but you’ll have to drive something else while I fix up your piece of shit,” he tells you. It’s then that you notice the back of the garage where his workshop is set up, and he’s got your broken baby up on a lift with the tires taken off.

So, you pick a new one—something practical, efficient, and baby blue—and thank Nik when he tosses you the keys.

Alejandro visits often, mostly to talk with John about happenings with the club, but he always makes a point to find and say hello to you. Sometimes, Rudy or Valeria will join him. When Rudy does, he checks in with you, asking how you’re feeling and making sure your throat isn’t bothering you anymore before joining John and Alejandro. When Valeria visits, she skips out on business talk entirely, insisting on taking you out to go shopping or see the city.

“There’s no point in sitting through a bunch of information Alejandro will tell me about later,” she laughs with a dismissive wave.

You don’t see König or Roach at the house much, and when you do, it’s usually late at night, just as they're leaving John’s office. John never tells you what they come for, but he’s always a little more tense after their visits.

You don’t know how to describe John. The best fitting word that comes to mind is welcoming.

He lets you have half the space in his massive walk-in closet, even though you barely have enough clothes to take up one of the shelves. He has you pick one of the spare bedrooms, telling you to redecorate it and turn it into whatever you want. You’re allowed anywhere in the house, save for the few rooms belonging to the other club members, to do anything you want.

The freedom is almost overwhelming.

When he senses your hesitance, he assures you that he wants you to feel at home, that this space is as much yours as it is his.

You let yourself explore over the weeks but do your best to stay out of the way of club business; it’s not that you’re not curious, you just…don’t want to know, don’t want to be involved in the stress of it all.

You’ve dealt with that enough in your life. It’s a new era for you, and you’re determined to hold on to it for as long as you can.

-

When Rudy gives you the okay to perform again, you nearly tackle him in a hug. Even if it’s only for the first half of the show, you’ll take what you can get.

Farah switches out with you during intermission, and you head for the bar, where Alex already has a stool open for you.

“Feel good to be back?” he asks, smiling wide as you take your seat.

“It feels amazing,” you laugh. He slides you a glass of water, briefly turning to tend to another patron.

Someone clears their throat behind you, tapping you on your shoulders. There’s a dull thrum of pain, but you ignore it and spin in your seat to find König staring down at you.

“Boss wants you upstairs,” is all he says before turning and walking away.

…okay?

You finish your water, giving Alex a quick wave before heading to the club’s second floor.

You pass a few private game tables, not finding John at any of them, and head towards the few closed-off rooms.

You don’t need to guess which one he’s in when you turn the corner and find Ghost standing guard outside the door.

“Everything okay up here?” you ask as you approach.

“Nothing unusual,” Ghost gives a slight shrug, his shadowed eyes flitting about the hallway.

“Then, mind if I…?” You point to the door behind him. He nods, taking a step to the side to let you through.

The room is dark, low-lit, and filled with cigar smoke and laughter. You make your way through the haze to the poker table at the center of the room, where John sits with Nik and a few other men you’ve never seen before. A couple of them have women with them, barely dressed and making more effort to distract the other players than paying attention to their companions.

Something tightens in your chest, fight or flight buzzing around the back of your mind.

Sitting in a dark room, shoved in a barely-there dress, put on display to distract the other players. The threat of being left to wolves should you fail looming over you.

John wouldn’t that to you.

He’s not the same as—

“There she is!”

John reaches out to grab your hand as soon as you’re near and kisses the inside of your wrist.

“Care to join us?” John asks, staring up at you with a look of adoration that sends a shock of straight want down your spine. “Could use my good luck charm.”

Nik barks out a laugh, “With the way you’re playing, you need more than luck.”

“You don’t have to,” John murmurs, while the others are too busy with their laughter and jokes.

The softness in his voice puts your anxiety at ease. Of course, he’d never force you to be somewhere you didn't want to be.

“Why not?” you shrug, smiling as he tugs you forward and pulls you down to sit across his lap. A hand settles around your waist, a soft kiss pressed along the curve of your neck, and the cards are dealt.

You watch while they play, bets higher than anything you’d be comfortable with. They’re pretty good, but you’ve spent a lot of time around poker tables and even more time around liars. You wait until the final community card is flipped, and the man directly across from you—the last one left in the game against John, older with dark, greying hair—blinks three times and makes his bet before you lean into John as if to kiss his neck.

“He’s bluffing,” you whisper, following it with a kiss before you straighten up. John doesn’t acknowledge you, blank face trained on his cards, but you feel a small squeeze of your hip where his hand rests.

John calls, and the two reveal their hands. It’s not even close, your observation correct, as John wins by a landslide.

He presses an appreciative kiss to your shoulder. You catch Nik smirking at you, and you wink back at him.

The game continues well into the night, and you don’t leave your place in John’s lap. The two of you take it easy, letting John lose a few games while still winning a majority. You play the part, batting your eyes at the others with a flirty smile so they think nothing more of you than John’s arm candy while you lean in to pepper kisses along his neck and whisper hints in his ear.

By the time they call it quits, the left side of his neck is covered in your lipstick, but he’s a few hundred-thousands richer.

“Quite the good luck charm you have there, Price,” one of the men next to Nik—red-headed with one of the scantily dressed women pressed against his arm—laughs, drinking you in with a leer that sets you on edge. “Maybe next time, I’ll try her out.”

John laughs, but you can feel how hard he tenses beneath you.

“She’s spoken for, I’m afraid,” he says with a polite smile, pressing you just a bit tighter against him.

“Sure,” the man laughs before turning to mumble to the others, “Must be all that good luck she’s rubbing off on him,” The others laugh along, save for Nik, who focuses on gathering the cards on the table.

“Go wait outside for me, Dove,” Price speaks quietly. You nod, standing from his lap.

You lean down to kiss him on the cheek before smiling to the table. “You girls want something to drink? It’s on me!” The three women glance at each other before noticing the tension rising in the room and nodding. They follow you out, and you direct them toward the bar before turning to Ghost.

“You might wanna head in there,” you tell him. He nods, waiting until you’ve turned down the hall to go inside.

You spend the next hour with the women at the bar, having a fantastic time as they drink and dance and tell you all about how awful their men are in hilarious detail, probably having their first taste of freedom in a while.

You understand. You’ve been there before.

They leave for a fifth dance, and this time you decline, far too exhausted to keep up with them.

As soon as they’ve disappeared into the crowd, you let out a long exhale, letting yourself lean against the bar.

“Tired?” a baritone voice murmurs into your ear, strong arms sliding around your waist.

“A little bit,” you sigh, turning to face John. “Everything go okay?”

He hums, one hand pulling off your waist to wrap around yours and bring it to his lips. He leaves a lingering kiss on your fingers, eyes holding your gaze as he allows you to see the dried blood and bruising on his hand.

“Probably should go home and wrap this,” he sighs, trailing kisses down the side of your hand to the inside of your wrist.

“Is he still breathing?” you ask, giving your best attempt at a look of disappointment despite the smile slowly growing on your face.

“Unfortunately,” John scoffs, pulling you closer so his mouth can continue its path up your arm.

You click your tongue at him, rolling your eyes in fake annoyance as you pull your hand out of his embrace to set your hand on his cheek. “You don’t have to do that whenever someone says something like that to me. It’s bound to happen.”

His brows knit together, concern and confusion drawn across his face.

“Not to my girl, it isn’t,” he says, firm and final.

“John—”

“Get a room, you two!”

You’re startled apart as Soap and Kyle reach the bar.

“Hey, let the old man have his fun!” Alex scolds through poorly held-back laughs. John groans, head falling into the crook of your neck as the three burst with laughter.

“Ready to go home?” you laugh softly. John nods into your shoulder, stepping back from you with a long sigh and deep reluctance. He takes your hand in his, pulling you away from the bar as the two of you are followed by cheers and shouts of:

“Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!”

“Take it easy on him, Starling!”

“Have fun!”

Your first priority will be taking care of John’s beaten knuckles. The fun can come after that when you thoroughly thank him for defending you.

-

It isn’t unusual for John to be up late, either busy at the club or in his office.

Just as it’s not uncommon for you to go to bed alone. Of course, he makes up for it by making sure you never have to wake up alone, but you still miss him on nights when work comes first.

To make up for his absence, you take to wearing his shirts as pajamas, melting into the rich smell of him that lingers on the fabric as you sleep. When he’s finally done for the night, he often finds you lying on top of the covers, snuggled down into the fabric of his shirt. It’s a sight that fills him with equal parts adoration and want, something that he will never get tired of seeing.

You always wake up whenever he finally joins you for the night, moving so you can get under the blankets and let him pull you into his side. Sometimes, he talks to you about his day until you’re lulled to sleep by the soft vibrato of his voice, and sometimes, the sight of you in nothing but one of his shirts leads to even longer nights spent touching and feeling and worshipping until your voice leaves you.

Sometimes, it leads to nights like tonight, you laying beside him with your head on his chest, listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart while he trails his fingers in nonsense shapes across your back.

Things are fine, content, even downright serene until he skims over a ridge of the scar on your shoulder, and you tense instinctively, hissing softly under your breath.

He pulls back immediately, “Sorry, sweetheart.”

One thing about John: he never pushes.

He knows about the scar, knows how you go out of your way to cover it up, how you flinch whenever someone touches on that side. He observes, stores the information away in his brain, takes care to avoid touching you there, but he never asks you about it.

“It’s alright,” you sigh, rolling your shoulder, trying to get the ache to leave.

You want to tell him. You have for the last month, but every time you think to bring it up, something catches in the back of your throat, gnawing at you until you back out.

It leaves you with an awful sort of guilt, one made worse by the fact that you don’t have anyone to confide in about it. No one to bounce your ideas off of. No one to reassure you that John’s opinion of you wouldn’t change if he knew.

You trust him implicitly.

He’s never given you a reason not to.

You can’t keep complaining about being haunted if you won’t let go of your ghosts.

So, in the quiet darkness of your bedroom, you suddenly sit up, throwing one leg over him to place yourself in his lap, and set your hands flat against his chest.

“Did Kyle ever tell you I was married?” you ask softly.

John goes still beneath you.

“Things were good at the start. Or he made it seem like they were so I wouldn’t realize what he was actually doing, but over time that façade he put up melted away, and I—I realized how big of a mistake I actually made.”

He doesn’t speak, but John’s hands settle on your thighs, gently kneading into the bare skin.

A small attempt at comfort.

A silent I’m here.

“He never hit me or anything like that. He found other ways to hurt me, ways that would be harder to prove if I ever left, and he had this…charisma—he was so likable and charming that whenever he’d say no one would listen to me, I’d believed him. One day, he—” Your voice catches, and John’s hands slide up to your hips as he sits up and sets his forehead against yours.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he whispers.

“I want to,” you reply. It takes a second for you to collect yourself, and you’re still not sure you’re ready, but you push yourself to do it anyway. “One day, I just snapped. I couldn’t take the snide comments, the vague threats, the constant anxiety—I couldn’t do it anymore. I tried to leave, and he tried to stop me, and we got into this huge argument. He grabbed my arm, and I pulled away too hard, not watching where I was going…and broke my shoulder, falling down a flight of stairs.

“I try not to think about it a lot, but my shoulder never really healed properly, so sometimes even the smallest touch just makes it ache, and all I can think about is that day, lying at the bottom of the stairs, wondering if it wouldn’t have been easier to have broken my neck instead.”

The pain lingers, but there’s a considerable weight that lifts from your chest.

There’s a beat of silence before John moves again, gently grabbing your hand and setting it on his chest, guiding your thumb along the skin where you feel a small raised circle underneath the hair.

“One of the first deals after I’d just started the club,” he sighs. “Went in all cocksure and arrogant, thinking I knew everything and that no one could touch me. The dealer we were meeting with had this idea that we were overcharging him, which we were, but we weren’t going to tell him that.

“Well, I got mouthy, and his men got violent. He pulled a gun, and the friend I was with, the man I’d started this club with, shoved me out of the way. Bullet tore through him but slowed down, going off kilter just enough to miss my heart. The Hell I unleashed after my recovery is what laid the foundation for what the club is today, but sometimes…Sometimes, I think about him, and I wonder if it was a fair trade. If it wouldn’t have been better for me to have taken the bullet and let him be here instead.”

A trade. One painful memory for another.

An implied confession: you’re not alone.

You lean forward, a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

I’m glad you’re here.

He pulls you into him, lips colliding with yours.

I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.

Your hands wind their way around his neck as he flips the two of you, laying you down against the bed. He hovers over you for just a second, blue eyes gazing down at you with far too much emotion for you to handle. You pull him by his hair, and he follows your lead, closing the space to pour all that emotion into a kiss that you return with the same intensity.

I love you.

-

If there’s one thing John loves more than surprising you, it’s spoiling you.

It starts with jewelry, small boxes of simple, elegant bracelets and necklaces left on your vanity during your performances.

Then it extends to clothes, your half of the closet slowly filling with pieces you find when he takes you shopping. He carries your bags for you, and you repay him by modeling every piece of lingerie you buy when you get home.

When it’s his turn to handle date night, there’s always some outrageously fancy restaurant or sold-out showing waiting for you, everything complimentary, and the staff exceptionally welcoming to the two of you.

Spoiling you isn’t restricted to expensive gifts, either.

When you catch a cold in the middle of spring, John takes the day off—something Kyle says he apparently never does, and something he can’t afford to do, says Ghost—to tend to your every need.

He overhears you talking with Valeria, telling her how you’d love nothing more than to sink into a hot bath, and you come home to a candle-lit bathroom and a tub filled with warm water and bubbles. He washes your hair, massages your shoulders, and whispers in your ear all the things he plans to do to you once you’re out of the tub.

You appreciate every single thing he does for you and tell him so often. He shrugs it off, saying he’s happy to treat you the way you deserve.

In truth, there’s something else, something far more selfish, that drives him.

He loves you. He loves to see you smile. He loves the way your eyes light up when he takes time away from the club to spend it with you—something he finds himself doing more of recently, an attempt to escape the stress and paranoia that’s been building.

He loves it even more that it’s him that’s making you happy, that he’s the only one who can make you smile like that, laugh like that, moan like that. You’re his just as much as he’s yours, and he has no intention of ever letting you go.

"Zip me up?"

Especially not now, when you’re standing in front of your bedroom mirror, half-dressed in a gown he bought for you, trying to get ready for a gala.

You look like a dream, dress hanging off your figure as you gaze at him over your shoulder with that beautiful look on your face. The one that always makes him feel like a shy teenager stumbling over his words.

John steps up behind you, and you turn a little more to meet him with a soft kiss. You turn back to the mirror, standing up straight to give him access to the zipper of your dress and the bare expanse of your back.

You wait patiently, adjusting your jewelry here and there. So distracted. So trusting. It tugs at something in his heart how vulnerable you allow yourself to be around him, a man with so much blood on his hands, they're stained down to the bone. Yet here you are, allowing him to touch you, to stain your skin with that blood and violence and danger that will follow him for the rest of his life.

He doesn't know what he's done to deserve you, but you meet his eyes in the reflection, giving him that stunning smile, and he knows it doesn't matter.

He'd burn the world to the ground if it meant he could have you in the ashes.

-

It’s the middle of the night when Ghost walks into his office unannounced, carrying a small, black folder.

“Bit late for you, isn’t it?” Price asks, looking up from the journal on his desk.

Ghost doesn’t speak, walking up to the desk and setting the folder down. Price sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before picking up the folder.

“Are you going to tell me what this is, or do I have to guess?”

“Tried calling you.”

“Phone’s in the bedroom.”

“You’ve been gone a lot.”

“Is this late-night visit for something important or just so you can tell me you’ve missed me?” Price doesn’t mean to snap; the irritation that he’s having this conversation instead of finishing up his work so he can join you in bed grinding against his nerves.

“We found the man that attacked Canary. We know where he’s from.”

Price’s eyes shoot up to meet Ghost’s. Ghost looks about as tired as he does, and Price can’t blame them. Things have been tight for months, walls slowly closing in around the club.

There’s something else in his face, something that sets Price on edge.

Price knows Ghost, knows the man who’s been by his side for years, helping to take care of every dirty deal the club’s had to deal with.

Ghost has a certain detachment, no care about what he’s doing or who he has to hurt to do it.

It’s not Ghost he’s talking to, but Simon who’s staring down at him with sadness and pity.

“Look in the folder,” Simon sighs.

Price doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to know about whatever’s in here, what information he’s about to have to deal with. He wants to throw the folder back at Simon and bury his head in your neck, ignoring the rest of the world.

But he’s the Boss for a reason.

He sets the folder down, steeling himself with a deep breath, before flipping it open.

A stone sinks into the pit of his stomach, and his heart shatters.

“Oh.”

The mask slips back on, Ghost’s protective nature taking over as he watches Price visibly deflate.

“How do you want me to handle this?”

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[sunshine-theseus]

Mi Corazón | Olga Carmona x reader

Word Count: 2.4k Summary: you’re in the military, she plays football. You both have busy schedules, but you’ll always find time for each other. Warnings: angsty, fluffy. I’m learning Spanish but I don’t know an awful lot so I’m sorry if it’s incorrect😭, and if it’s a long conversation I’ll only write some things in Spanish. Request for: @thedarknessempress and @realsociadadferminofan - i'm pretty happy with this one so i hope you like it!

I hadn’t expected it to be this hard every single time. Of course I knew I’d miss my family and friends, but six months always felt longer than it seemed.

And then there was Olga. We already struggled to find time to ourselves before I was deployed but now it was a whole other issue. There were time zone struggles and she was getting ready for the World Cup while I was working with my platoon and showing people that I deserve my rank.

After years of work, I recently got promoted to Teniente (Lieutenant), so this mission was a big deal in proving to the higher ups that they hadn’t made the wrong decision. Olga understood but was reasonably upset that I wouldn’t be able to support her at the beginning of the World Cup, especially with the struggle the girls have had with the RFEF and Vilda.

The last time we spoke it was tense. Things were getting difficult in camp as they approached the quarter-finals and when I told her my deployment was being extended a few weeks, conveniently ending days after the finals, she broke.

“Qué? What do you mean it was extended?! Can they even do that? You promised you’d make it if we got this far!”

“I’m sorry Ol. You know I want to be there more than anything.”

“This keeps happening. How can I trust a promise when I know you could be deployed or called to work on some plan at any point?”

“Mi corazón, that is not fucking fair. You knew what me being in the Air Force entailed when you met me. I requested this time off specifically so I could be there but there was nothing anyone could do! They need me here. I’ll be able to use this for extra time off another time. Just for us.”

“But I need you here!” her voice shakes, and I nearly break; tell her ‘Fuck it I’m on my way’.

“Olga…”

“Vete a la mierda” were her final words and then the line goes dead. (fuck off)

That was over a week ago. I texted and called her more times than I can count. When she didn’t answerr the first few, I messaged Ona, asking her to at least update me on how she’s going.

‘She is ok, very sad.’ Is the first message I get in return from said left back.

‘Felicidades!’ they win their quarter-final match (congratulations)

‘She is missing you’ is what I get in return.

‘can you tell her I miss her too?’ I don’t get a reply that night and her updates continue to be few and far between as they progress through the semi-finals all the way to the finals, against England.

~~~~~

“Deja de mirar tu teléfono” Alexia scolds me as I stare at the picture of Olga, Ona and Alexia, arm in arm together after their semi-final win (stop looking at your phone)

“What if she doesn’t want to see me Ale?”

“No seas estúpida! She loves you, she is just upset. Maybe saying your deployment got extended was not your best idea.” she chuckles as I glare at her, sitting on the uncomfortable plastic chairs right behind the substitution bench. (don’t be stupid)

“I didn’t know how else to surprise her.”

“They are coming out! Pull down your cap so she cannot see you.”

“I’m still in uniform Ale. If she doesn’t recognise the outfit, she won’t recognise me.”

“Oh, just do it!” I follow the pink haired girl’s instructions and slouch in my chair.

But then I see her. For the first time in 6 months, I see her and all I want to do was run onto the pitch and pick her up and kiss her. But I can’t, I refuse to ruin the surprise after literally risking my relationship for it.

My soul focus the entire game is Olga. The way she seems so free when she plays, the way she moves. When she scores the first, and only, goal of the game and pulls up her jersey to reveal the name of her best friend’s mother I nearly cry. Even in one of her biggest moments, she honours the other people in her life.

The final whistle blows, and we cheer as the girls fall to their knees and hug each other, others comforting the English girls. After a minute or so, Ona runs over to pull Alexia and I over the barricade and I rush over to stand behind Olga who is hugging Esther, who catches a glimpse of me and smiles before pulling away from the hug.

“Felicidades mi corazón!” (Congratulations my heart)

“Qué?” she whips around at the sound, and I don’t get to say anything else before she’s jumping into my arms.

“You’re here? But y- your mission got extended?”

“Is that what I said? Whoops! I meant to say ‘I’ll be here’.” I kiss her on the forehead, then set her back down and she slaps my arm before glancing at her team.

“Go celebrate, I’m not going anywhere.” Olga hugs me once more before going to hug her teammates and comfort some of the other players, a large smile on her face.

I then stand with the other family and friends, Alexia’s arm tightly around me, as the team is presented their medals and the trophy.

Joy is rushing through until I witness Rubiales kiss Jenni, but I try to focus on the win, catching Olga as she comes barrelling back toward me after they take team photos.

“I’m sorry for yelling on the phone. And ignoring you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was coming. I just wanted it to be a surprise.”

“But you didn’t even know if we would win the semis.”

“Mm I’m kind of psychic, I actually knew ages ago.” Olga giggles and pushes me lightly.

Then her family approaches us, sadness looming behind their smiles. I leave them alone to talk but it doesn’t take long for Olga to fall into my arms as she cries.

“Shh mi vida. What’s wrong?” I hold her tight as I rock us back and forth, rubbing her back.

“Mi papa murió” I stop abruptly and pull away, taking her face in my hands as I stare in shock. (my dad died)

“Qué? Cuando?” (What? When?)

“Viernes.” (Friday)

“What do you mean Friday? No one told you?” she only shakes her head before pulling me back into her.

“Lo siento mucho Ol. I’m so sorry. He would have been so proud” (very sorry)

~~~~~

We get back to Madrid after celebrations with the team. The funeral is a few days after and I spend most of the time taking care of Olga, refusing to let her do anything she doesn’t need to. Most mornings I make her breakfast, then wait to see if she wants to do any activities, then finish off the day by making dinner.

I then decided we both deserved a small holiday, so I brought her to my hometown, Dénia, on Spain’s east coast.

“Bebé! Do you have the towels?” Olga shouts from the door as I struggle to pull on my second sandal.

“Sí! I’ve got everything, don’t worry.” I walk towards her and peck her on the lips before opening the door, ushering her out.

Olga swings our hands back and forth between us as we make our way down to the beach from our hotel.

“Can we build sandcastles?” she looks at me with those big, whiskey brown eyes and I find it impossible to deny her anything.

“Of course we can.” And so we set up a spot, and while she gathers some water, I start packing sand into our buckets.

Every now and then a kid comes up to us, asking for a photo with the ‘Heroe de Fútbol’ who got us that trophy. Other kids have no idea who she is and just want to help us build a big ass sandcastle, and we tell them jokes and play into whatever fantasy they’ve made for the structure.

‘y las dos princesas se casan y viven felices para siempre!’ the little girl finishes her story. (and the two princesses get married and live happily ever after)

Lucia, as we learned her name was, quickly switched the prince for a princess after momentarily being confused when she asked if we were ‘friends or friends’. Her mum tried to apologise but Olga laughed and just took hold of my hand as we listen to the story.

Not long after saying goodbye to the girl and her mum, Olga and I pack up and head back.

“What do you want to do tonight bebé?” I ask as I unlock the door.

“Movie night? All those kid stories make me want to watch Disney.”

“As long as we get to watch The Princess and The Frog”. I head to the kitchen to start on dinner when I feel Olga’s arms wrap around me and I turn around.

“What’s up?” I stare down into her eyes, so full of love.

“Thank you. For coming home early and for this holiday, for taking care of me.”

“I’ll always take care of you mi corazón, even if I have to get dishonourably discharged, if you need me, I’ll be here. And if I really can’t be, I’ll do whatever I can to help.” I lean down and capture her lips in my own, our love for each other radiates through the kiss.

“Te amo.” She pecks my lips again (I love you)

“Te amo.” I turn back around to continue with dinner and Olga curls into my side, following me around the kitchen, always leaning on me.

It can be so hard to find time like this together so when we have it, neither of us want to be apart from the other. I never want to be apart from her.

~~~~~

Our holiday goes on for another couple of days, and we decide for our last night we would have a romantic dinner at Mala Vita, a restaurant in the Marina, overlooking the water.

“Are you ready?!” I yell through the bathroom door, waiting for Olga to finish getting ready.

I’m about to knock again when the door creaks open and Olga steps out.

I choke as I catch sight of her. Her satin red dress clings to her perfectly, her muscles are softly defined, and her loose hair frames her face. Her heels make her taller, but she still has to lean up to plant a kiss on my cheek as my mouth continues to gap open.

“Perfecta hermosa! Elegante!” I kiss her with every word before we head down to the taxi, my arm tightly wrapped around her shoulders. (Perfect beautiful! Elegant!)

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” She lightly pokes me in the side as she takes in my own outfit.

When we arrive at the restaurant, it’s golden hour, and Olga begs to do a small photoshoot, asking an older couple to take some photos of us together.

I hold her close and look her in the eyes before dipping her, both of us laughing as the older lady cheers and takes a photo.

Then Olga turns her back to me as she adjusts her hair, and I drop to one knee and hold out an object that could change everything. I see the couple smile to each other and continuously take photos from Olga’s phone out of the corner of my eye. I smile to myself, I hope to one day be like them, with the girl in front of me.

It takes Olga a few moments to turn around, ready to hug me. It then takes her a few more moment to realise I’m not standing in front of her, her eyes dropping to meet mine as I grin up at her. Her hands are then quick to cover her mouth.

“Olga Carmona García, you are the light of my life, and I would do anything for you. When you kicked a football into my face, I couldn’t even imagine this is where we would be 2 and a half years later. I am more in love with you than I have ever loved anything in my life. I want to grow old with you and love you for eternity. Por favor hazme la mujer más feliz del mundo y sé mi esposa” in mere moments Olga falls to her knees, pulls me in and kisses me passionately. (please make me the happiest woman in the world and be my wife)

“Sí! Sí, lo haré!” she cries as I slip the ring on and kiss her again. (Yes! Yes I will!)

“Sois una hermosa pareja” the lady says as she hands Olga’s phone back to her. (You are a beautiful couple)

“Gracias.” We wave goodbye to the couple before heading into the restaurant.

“I love you so much.” Olga whispers as she takes my hand, admiring the ring on her other hand.

“Not as much as I love you.” I kiss her forehead before we sit down.

“I have another surprise…”

“Qué?” her head quirks to the side in that adorable way that makes my heart clench, and I know what I’m about to say will be the best decision of my life.

“I got offered a job..” I can tell Olga is about to ask how this is a good surprise, so I rush on.

“As a lead trainer of the Air Force Academy in Madrid.” I grin at her, waiting for her to react.

“W- what does that mean?”

“I’ll be in Madrid permanently, unless of course you move clubs, then I’ll move. But most importantly we’ll have more guaranteed time together.”

“But your dream has been to be a high rank in the Air Force for basically ever!” I can see her begin to look distraught.

“It was my dream. But I’ll never want anything more than to be with you. And being in the Air Force basically guarantees we only ever have 6 months, if that, together every year. I don’t know about you, but I can’t live without you for that long for the rest of my life.”

“I can’t either.” I take her hand.

“I want this Olga, I promise. And if I get bored of being on the ground, I can always become a commercial pilot. Then I’ll always be a captain.” I smile reassuringly at the love of my life.

“Siempre serás mi capitana.” I lean over the table and kiss her once more. (You will always be my captain).

“Te amo.” She whispers as we part.

“Te amo mi corazón.”