#smaller cruise

[zeropro]

Don't worry, Sunstorm didn't fly all the way to Earth from Cybertron all by himself!

Because it's my au and i can do whatever i want, what if my oc hung out with all the cool kids. Somehow managed to shoehorn the Lost Light in there somewhere.

After Optimus Prime and his crew left Cybertron with Megatron on his trail, they all crash land on Earth and go into stasis. Back on Cybertron, Hot Rod is like, guys OP has been like, MIA for a few hundred years now, we should maybe go look for him? And Ultra Magnus and Elita-1 are like, doesn't seem like a good idea, so of course Hot Rod does it. He gets a space ship, crews it with his best bud, a bartender, a janitor, and a psychopath (okay whirl prolly sneaks onboard himself). Instead of finding Optimus they find the Dead Universe and a different Prime. Nova Prime. The guy who wanted to do the colonization like six million years ago. Anyway, they duke it out, and Cyclonus joins them. Then they like, have wacky space adventures, find Rung on a neutral colony somewhere and he joins them because serving on space ships is what he do. They go back to Cybertron at some point and find out it's all dead so they go out and try and find some solution to this. Then at some point Optimus Prime and the rest of the Autobots wake up on Earth, and so they go to Earth and meet up with them. They all hang out, then after Optimus dies, Hot Rod gets his name changed to Rodimus, and goes back into space because he and Bumblebee dont get along, and thats when they pick up Sunstorm en route and give him a ride back to Earth!

Sunstorm can have a little therapy, as a treat.

[oifaaa]

Now that I'm a good ¾ of the way through one piece I'm gonna complain about something that's kinda been bugging me; I don't like how little time the crew has actually been together - and I'm not saying this in the they get split up each island type way I mean in more the Brook was on that ship for a week before the 2 year gap and its not like the rest of the crew is much better from what I can gather from the time Luffy first met zoro til they arrived on sabaody about 6 months had passed if we're being generous I don't know something about the fact that usopp spent more time with that bug man then his crew annoys me so much

[bibvck]

i have to be honest (read: a little negative) for a second. i am a little worried about the direction of the show moving forward. not even storyline-wise, but quality-wise. i enjoyed s7 a lot but it was quite messy at times. and i don't think the final episode lived up to hype at all. i think they were being far too ambitious with such a short season. like i'm not sure we've ever been aware of them cutting so much content. not just everything with the wedding episode, but scenes towards the end of the season that actually help make sense of the plot, character and story-driven scenes that we will never ever see. it seems like such poor planning. they knew the season was shorter. they know each ep is only 40-something minutes. why are we trying to do so much?

the cut content bothers me. this need they have to try and outdo themselves with the big emergencies every season bothers me. the fact that both the s6 and 7 finales missed the mark bothers me. in both cases there were absolutely outside forces that affected the outcome -- fox + cancellation + the shorter/rushed/chaotic nature of this season. but it's more than that. the Big Thing the finale is meant to focus on is over so quickly. all of the emotions that we feel should be connected to the event are ignored or passed over so quickly. and all the copaganda... the pirates in the cruise and the cartel with the grant-nash housefire. these are all just bad. why is the cartel even here? why did we need that?

my only hope is that s8 takes a step back into how the show used to be. let storylines and characters breathe. dial it back on the big emergencies. be a little silly. be ridiculous, even, but shark-on-the-freeway ridiculous. not like this. we don't need or want you to go bigger, actually.

[paceywittergayboatman]

Dance it out more like dance it off

[nonasuch]

Miss Universe National Costume 2024, Part 2!

Splitting this off into a new post so I'm not clogging up everyone's dash quite as much.

Miss Malta is some sort of environmental protection Sailor Scout. I think the giant bow would look better on the back of the skirt but otherwise this is solid.

It has just come to my attention that I skipped over Miss Albania and several other A/B countries, back at the beginning. I sincerely apologize! She went to all this trouble putting together a Fifth Element cruise ship passenger costume, and I nearly missed it.

Miss Armenia, in what even I have to admit would be a legit Princess Leia fit.

Miss Bahrain, adding some green to her Gold And Vaguely Historical look, along with what is either a comically large prop chalice or an upside-down lamp.

Miss Bangladesh appears to believe that adding two plush tigers from the toy store around the corner from the pageant venue will conceal the fact that she is just wearing a tiger-print evening dress. Miss Bangladesh is incorrect.

Miss Belgium. Girl. No.

Miss Belize let the seventh-grade art class do her whole costume, which was a bold choice.

Okay, I think that's everyone I missed! Back to alphabetical order. And I should have to rely less on shitty screenshots, now. Some countries were benefiting from the low resolution, tbh.

Kind of feel like Miss Maldives had a luggage mishap and she's just wearing the outfit she packed for a slightly dressy dinner.

Miss Martinique's costume would honestly have looked better in the shitty screencap version. The construction is... bad. It's bad.

Feel like we're in a little bit of slump here. Miss Mauritius did not stick enough butterfly appliqués to her gown to conceal that it is, in fact, just a regular evening gown.

Slump officially over! We are so back. Everyone say thank you, Miss Mexico.

I would like this better if it had just committed to the giant skirt and not felt the need to make it a Sexy Miniskirt look. Sorry, Miss Moldova.

Miss Mongolia wanted to stand out from all the other gold armor on stage, so she decided to a) wear cooler armor and b) bring a bow and arrow instead of a sword. Great work, Miss Mongolia.

Starting to feel like I'm picking on the smaller countries that probably don't have a huge pageant culture or the budget for really elaborate costumes, but on the other hand Miss Montenegro's costume is super low-effort AND the fabrics look cheap, so what am I supposed to do?

Okay, this looks like a pretty standard Miss Universe Sexy Bird, yes? Well, THIS is how Miss Myanmar entered the stage:

She had to fight her way out of that thing! God only knows what the visibility was like in there.

I think the hat is doing most of the heavy lifting to keep Miss Namibia's costume from being Just An Evening Dress, sadly.

Oh, yikes. It's more obvious in motion but Miss Nepal's bodice looks like it's made of craft foam and it fits real weird. The rest of it looks a little like she got together with Miss Cyprus and a pile of tablecloths for a sewing bee last night, I'm sorry to say.

Miss Netherlands has chosen a Tribute to Delft. I think if I were in charge of this costume I would do a much fuller skirt that falls from the waist, instead of the weird trumpet-skirt-with-hoop we've got here. And, obviously, I would make the windmill on the bodice actually spin.

It looks like she's having some issues keeping the wings and peplum in place, but I really like Miss New Zealand's costume from a design perspective. It at least slightly resembles the bird it's supposed to be (New Zealand fantail) and I think the feather pattern is meant to be in a Maori art style.

Miss Nicaragua is a Sexy Cathedral, which I think might be a Miss Universe first and is definitely a big old step closer to drag.

Okay, pausing here to get the next batch ready.

[enlichened]

i finally started knitting the hat without errors (after 3 times ripping it out)!!!

[batshit-auspol]

With the sudden collapse of the Soviet Union in the early 1990s, many of the former empire's resources were sold off to the highest bidder, and their $14 billion space shuttle program was no exception.

Seeking to recoup some of that eyewatering spend, in 1998, the "Buran" (Russia's answer to the American Space Shuttle) was offered up for sale on eBay for $10 million.

No serious offers were received - with most people assuming the listing to be a joke, until the New York Post confirmed the sale, with Russian authorities stating they "actually have two" if anyone is interested.

(Pictured: A later auction of a smaller scale Buran in 2005)

Sensing an opportunity, a group of Aussie entrepreneurs including Australia's first astronaut and the lawyer for Prime Minister Paul Keating offer to lease the shuttle from Russia, to put it on display in Australia during the Sydney Olympics.

After gaining permission from the Kremlin for the lease, in 1999 the Russian military briefly stops bombing Chechnya in order to dismantle the Buran, and it is placed on a barge to be shipped to Sydney on the (soon to be infamous for other reasons) Tampa shipping vessel at a cost of $5 million.

Once in Sydney, after a disastrous few months on display where crowds failed to flock to the shuttle exhibition featuring such compelling educational offerings as "activities is to assist in the development of issues of nutrition and hygiene at home" (an actual quote from their website) - the leasing company declared bankruptcy and washed their hands of the space shuttle completely.

The Buran Gift shop where you could buy soviet space ship themed football jerseys, in case you needed one of those

One of four people listed on the lease, described as a business partner of the Prime Minister, also claims he never knew he was a director of the company, which went on to cause a lot more problems.

This whole debacle presented a slight issue for the cash strapped Russian authorities, who had now only been paid $100,000 for the 9 year lease of the shuttle instead of the $600,000 they were owed. Eventually the decision was made to abandon the once $1 billion Soviet pride and joy in a Sydney carpark, where it resided for a year under a small tarpaulin.

Failed attempts to be rid of the shuttle included a 12 day auction hosted by an LA radio station, where listeners were offered the chance to buy the shuttle for $6 million, however all bids turned out to be pranks and the shuttle remained.

Multiple attempts were also made to sell the shuttle to Tom Cruise, with the exacerbated movie star's representatives repeatedly telling the insistent traders that he was not interested in owning a Russian spaceship.

Eventually a Singaporean group dismantled the shuttle and shipped it overseas, however Russian authorities soon reported they once again had been failed to be paid for the lease. Singaporean representatives responded that they definitely had paid for the shuttle, and that they simply couldn't remember when or how much was paid.

Representing the Russian government, Lawyer Suhaila Turani told the Wall Street Journal “I feel sorry for the Russians. They’re good in space, but they’re very naive in business.”

For a time the shuttle was abandoned in the storage yard of event company Pico, with the company owner telling the Wall Street Journal "I just want this thing out of my life" after three years of being stuck with it.

A few years later the shuttle was found by German journalists dismantled in a junkyard, and it was then bought and shipped to Germany to be put on display a museum, so all's well that ends well (except they dropped it from a crane while trying to set it up, but it polished up okay).

[bradleysbradshaws]

I am just *deep sighs* about most things now.

Look - I do believe I am on the right side of history for what I am doing. I have zero ill intent, but I have been put in an impossible situation, and I am surviving on sheer intrinsic mental fortitude at this point. I have managed to "stay in" the Roosmav fandom - barely - when anyone else who this has happened to has been long gone.

It's probably not going to happen, but I wish the Roosmav fandom could be like any other fandom that I have ever been in - open and welcoming to all who want to participate in it. It disturbs me that just because I and others are not privvy to a certain gated space, that we are not able to engage meaningfully with it. I do make the posts I make on tumblr because I do hope against all hope for some sort of honest interaction one day. I know it's not going to come from anyone who knew me last year because...I don't know...I don't know why people who happily treated me as a friend treat me like a ghost now, but it's their prerogative to do so. It makes me sad, but I am used to it; I have been used to it for a very long time now.

I will speak on this more another day, but I do find it concerning that more fandoms are becoming gated spaces it seems, nowadays - not just Roosmav. We all just want to enjoy something together...I don't know why it should have to be such a struggle for some of us.

[asundine]

X

[ranticore]

you will have to zoom in for those maps. sorry

the six broad phocid biotypes and a size comparison. i lined them up by the point of their shoulder. any variation between these is possible as they are not separate species and can all interbreed

inland & coastal phocids' main distinguishing feature is their ability to walk easily on land. they have relatively long limbs and less bulky, cylindrical tails. they also tend to have smaller and subtler patterns of speckles and checkers. They can tackle a wide variety of environmental conditions, but struggle to live fully pelagic lives (though it IS possible) as they find swimming to be more of an energy drain than a pelagic phocid would, and they can't cruise fast enough to travel efficiently between underwater population centres, which are often very far apart due to the natural high speed cruise of pelagic phocids. fully inland "swamp" phocids are unable to swim in cold or deep water and rarely submerge to such an extent that they are not bearing at least some weight on their legs, as the inland swamps of the western continent are not very deep.

pelagics live a life entirely underwater, including giving birth underwater when the time comes. so their body shape is very streamlined, with short legs which are usually joined to the main body below the elbow/knee to reduce drag. their blubber layers are structural and form their little dorsal ridges. in cross-section their tails are actually very tall and narrow rather than uniformly cylindrical. their skin patterns are large and bold and quite variable, serving to break up their silhouettes in the water, confusing predators and prey alike. although outsiders would struggle to tell ribbon-patterned phocids apart, the pattern is unique per individual.

for a relative size chart compared to an unaltered human & other sirenians check out this chart

the most populous of these are the north mid pelagics and the spire coastals.

[lvmimis]

“Luffy!”

You don’t expect your voice to carry the distance to where Luffy is seated cross-legged at the very top of the crow’s nest, he’s high enough that you have to crane your whole neck to see him, but somehow he still hears you calling his name because the hat clad figure shifts, and soon you can see him looking in your direction.

You wave, a cheerful smile on your face, and promptly, an arm stretches down to where you stand on the ship’s deck, wrapping twice around your waist securely before snapping you back up until you’re right by his side. It’s a fast movement, and there is a gentle thud as your bodies collide for a moment, but he doesn’t shift, rock-steady, and he steadies you carefully as you settle into a cross-legged position next to him.

These days, it still can take a few moments for you to get used to the stopping velocity, but it’s no longer a shock. 

It helps that you know you’re safe with him.

The clouds are lower than usual today as you stare out onto the sea, the temperature just slightly more frigid, but not yet portending rain. Luffy doesn’t say a word, not even when you slip your arm gently around his and hold onto it loosely, or let out a sigh. You can tell something is wrong, because even his appetite is off, and you wonder if you should have left him alone to think, but you wouldn’t have made it up this high if he didn’t want you near him.

You let your head rest on his shoulder gently instead.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask.

He pauses for a moment, before he says, “Nothing.”

There’s many a joke that can be made here about how thoughtless he is, how unserious he is, but you know him well enough to recognize that there are many layers of emotion buried deep and topped with a brave but sometimes oppressive form of optimism. Today, there are cracks in that overlying glaze and you can sense it bubbling up to the service.

“Just listening to the sea,” he adds.

Seagulls squawk overhead, circling around the two of you briefly before affording you space. A few moments pass, and he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath in through his nose before exhaling through his mouth.

“Do you want to talk?” you ask, tentatively.

His legs stretch out before him, sandals worn at the soles but still walkable, nearly dangling off his feet. He reaches for your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, then clasping it in his other hand before squeezing.

Then he looks at you, offering you a smaller than typical but still warm smile.

“Don’t really have anything to say,” he admits. He’s a bit sheepish now, scratching the back of his head. As if to fill the time, he gently removes his hat and places it atop your head.

His smile widens just a bit more, but it warms your heart.

“I don’t either,” you say. There might be something thick in his chest, or there might not be, but whatever it is, the presence of you already helps alleviate it. 

The longer you sit, the more he’ll be willing to speak on hurt and loss and grief and all the things that come with living life and adventure.

But for now, you can only offer the whispered words I love you as the boat continues to cruise.

And that, you realize as he slowly sinks into the space of your lap to rest, might be enough.

“I love you, too.”

[hunzzzzz]

OBX TWEETS: part 10

A/N: Rafe stans I’m so sorry😭😭😭😭 And John B stans.... enjoy❤️ ALSO if i missed anyone on the taglist im sorry😩 pls let me know!

The Twinkie coughed its way up your driveway, sounding like a dying lawnmower gargling gravel. That low, insistent beep was pure John B – no subtlety, just a persistent, slightly annoying demand for your attention. You yanked the blinds up, flipping him the bird before you even properly registered his ridiculously sprawled-out form in the driver's seat. Reclined so far he was practically horizontal, he still managed his signature grin and a cheesy blown kiss. Ugh. He was adorable.

You rolled your eyes so hard you almost saw your brain, but a tiny smile twitched at the corner of your mouth. You added one final coat of lipgloss, grabbed your bag and headed out.

Nervous? Nah. More like your stomach was doing the Macarena. This was John B. Your John B. The one you'd been causing trouble with since you were tiny humans. You remembered that time in first grade when he convinced you that if you buried your baby teeth under a full moon, they'd turn into pirate gold? You'd spent half the night digging holes in your mom's prize-winning petunias, only to find dirt-covered Chiclets the next morning. You were furious, naturally, but even then, covered in mud and tears, you couldn't help but laugh at his goofy, hopeful face.

Third grade was when things got serious academically. You got promoted to the brainy blue reading group, and you dramatically informed him he was officially too slow-witted for your sophisticated company. Cue the daily arrival of his rusty bike, leaving skid marks of betrayal on your perfectly manicured lawn as he’d badger you to come play sharks and minnows in the sprinkler. He was relentless, that boy.

He was just always there. Birthday parties fueled by questionable sugar rushes and even more questionable clown performances. Christmas mornings where his presents were usually some bizarre, half-broken treasure he’d found washed up on the beach, but somehow, they were always exactly what you didn't know you needed. Summers were a blur of sandcastle wars that always ended in soggy collapses, and pretending to be mermaids in the murky lake, convinced you were royalty (he always insisted on being King Neptune, obviously). He even tried to teach you how to ride a bike, his hands hovering nervously behind you until you finally wobbled your way to freedom (and a scraped knee). And then there was the legendary driving lesson in the Twinkie. Let’s just say your attempts at mastering the stick shift resulted in more jerky starts and near-misses than actual smooth cruising. Good times. Mostly.

He knew you better than you sometimes knew yourself. That awful time in middle school when those bullies were picking on you after school? You were convinced you were going to get your lunch money stolen, maybe even worse. Suddenly, out of nowhere, John B appeared, all skinny limbs and righteous fury. He might have been smaller than them, but he stood his ground, yelling some ridiculous pirate threats until they finally backed off, muttering about crazy Pogues. You felt like the damsel in distress in one of your cheesy romance novels, and even though you’d pretended to be annoyed by his dramatic entrance, you were secretly so grateful.

And then there was the time he made you laugh so hard you snorted milk out your nose. You were probably ten, maybe eleven, and you were trying to build this ridiculously complicated Lego castle. He'd started doing this impression of your grumpy old neighbor, Mr. Henderson, trying to chase away seagulls from his garden, complete with flailing arms and a high-pitched squawk. You’d lost it, the milk incident happening mid-snort. You were both in hysterics for a good hour, tears streaming down your faces. That's just John B – finding the ridiculous in the everyday.

He was even the one who’d gently nudged you towards getting help when your relationship with food started getting… weird. He’d noticed the subtle shifts, the way you’d suddenly become obsessed with calorie counts, the excuses you’d make to skip dinner. Or when you’d go to the bathroom straight after eating in attempts to get it back out of your system quickly. He’d approached you with this quiet, unwavering concern, his usual goofy grin replaced with a look of genuine worry. He hadn’t judged, hadn’t pressured, just… been there. Listened. That’s just the kind of friend he was.

And now, this. A date. The idea had always been this little what-if in the back of your mind, a tempting but terrifying possibility. Your friendship was this solid, dependable thing in your chaotic world. The thought of messing that up, of potentially losing him in a whole new, much more complicated way, made your palms sweat.

High school had been a blip, a weird two-year period where you’d both kind of drifted into your own orbits. During junior and senior year you were all about the AP classes and escaping to some fancy college far, far away. He was still John B, chasing legends and living life on his own terms, surrounded by his Pogue crew. Polite nods in the hallway replaced the easy banter, and you’d missed him more than you cared to admit, a constant little ache in your chest.

But then college happened, and suddenly, it was like no time had passed at all. The old spark reignited with a familiar crackle, and you’d seamlessly integrated into his world, becoming close with Kie and JJ. Pope, with his quiet smarts and shared love of obscure documentaries, had always been a friendly face.

But this felt different. This felt like stepping off a familiar dock into uncharted waters. You’d always known, deep down, that John B had a little something extra for you. He wasn’t exactly subtle with the lingering looks and playful nudges. And okay, yeah, you’d occasionally thrown a little flirtatious bait his way, a harmless game you both seemed to enjoy.

But this wasn't a game anymore. This was real life, with real-life consequences. You liked him. Like, really liked him. He was hot, in that wind-blown, sun-kissed, totally-his-own-person kind of way. You cared about him, loved him even, in that deep, platonic-but-maybe-not-anymore way that was both comforting and utterly terrifying. What if this went sideways? What if the date was a disaster? Or worse, what if it went amazing, and then… didn’t? Could you even imagine a world where you and John B couldn’t hang out, couldn’t share your weird inside jokes and comfortable silences? You shared the same friends, the same history, the same deeply ingrained OBX DNA. You were already mentally drafting the awkward post-breakup avoidance strategies. Textbook overthinker, party of one.

“Finally,” John B groaned dramatically as you slid into the passenger seat of the Twinkie.

“Lose the attitude, Routledge,” you shoved his shoulder. “Appreciate my glorious presence or I’ll bail.”

“Yes, of course, apologies, m’lady,” he said with an exaggerated bow of his head, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Ugh, stop being so cheesy,” you scrunched up your nose in mock disgust, but inside, your stomach did a weird little flip-flop.

“Ugh, stop being mean to me,” he whined, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “You know it turns me on.” He bit his lip dramatically, and you shoved him harder this time, knocking his beloved SnapBack askew.

“You’ve forgotten your outdoor manners. I trained you better than this,” you declared, adjusting his hat for him, though not without a little extra push.

“You’re, like, ten times bitchier than normal today,” he pouted, turning the key in the ignition.

“Do you want me to beat you again?” You raised your eyebrows, lifting a hand threateningly, making him flinch.

“Hey!” he said pointedly, pulling out of your driveway. “No abusing the driver. At least make it a fair fight.”

“You’re gonna have another black eye if you keep pissing me off,” you muttered, rolling your eyes and pulling down the visor mirror to check your makeup.

“You look beautiful as always,” he said, glancing over at you with that soft eyes that caught you off guard.

“Stop it,” you mumbled, feeling a blush creep up your neck.

“What?”

“Stop looking at me like that. It’s unsettling.”

“Can’t I admire the view?” he sighed dramatically, gesturing vaguely in your direction.

“Focus on the road.”

“You’re no fun,” he grumbled, shaking his head but still grinning.

“At least tell me where we’re going, lover boy.”

“Trust me,” he winked, reaching over and briefly squeezing your hand. “You’ll love it.”

The engine of the Twinkie coughed its last breath as you pulled up to the dock. John B practically bounced out, already wrestling with the moorings of his perpetually battered motorboat, the HMS Pogue, which, surprisingly, looked like it had seen a bar of soap sometime in the last decade. He flashed you that ridiculously charming grin, the one that still managed to make your insides do a little involuntary happy dance despite your best efforts to maintain a cool exterior.

"Ready for adventure, Captain?" he called out, his eyes bright as he held a hand out to help you onto the slightly questionable deck.

His grip was warm and familiar, sending a tiny jolt of something you refused to acknowledge up your arm. "Try not to sink us," you muttered, stepping onto the boat. As you settled onto one of the sun-bleached benches, your gaze landed on a wicker picnic basket tucked under the other seat. Seriously?

John B caught your eye, a hopeful expression on his face. “I can be romantic too, you know!” he declared, puffing out his chest slightly.

He then dramatically produced the champagne, popping the cork, "A drink perhaps, for m’lady?" he asked, holding the bottle aloft. "Only the finest for you. This bad boy cost me, like, twenty bucks. Worth every penny!" He then fumbled in the basket, pulling out two red Solo cups with a sheepish grin. "Uh, about the glasses… Turns out JJ and I may have… uh… utilized the last of the fancy ones in a particularly intense game of beer pong last night. My bad?" He looked at you with that classic puppy-dog eyes look.

You snorted, "Of course you did. Just like the time you two dumbasses used my mom’s ridiculously expensive guest hand towels to mop up the beer you spilled all over my sofa.”

“Hey! At least I tried to clean it unlike JJ!” he defended himself, looking genuinely offended.

“Yeah, by smearing it around more,” you countered, raising an eyebrow. “In JJ’s defense, I think he was actually trying to lick it clean.” You couldn't help but laugh at the memory of their utterly inept cleaning attempt.

“More like he didn’t want any perfectly good beer to go to waste,” John B snorted, pouring the bubbly into the red cups. He presented one to you with a flourish. “M’lady?”

“Ma’lord,” you grinned, taking a sip. Huh. The champagne was actually surprisingly decent. Maybe this wouldn’t be a complete train wreck after all.

“Alright, Captain,” he’d said earlier, practically vibrating with excitement as he gestured towards the small steering wheel. "Your turn to take the wheel! Time to show me those mad sailing skills I taught you."

Your eyebrows shot up. “I can’t,” you said flatly, shaking your head. You’d only steered a boat a handful of times, and your track record wasn't exactly stellar.

“Yes, you can! I’m right here to save you if you decide to reenact the Titanic… or, you know, just steer us into that sandbar over there.” He moved to stand directly behind you, his presence suddenly making the small space feel even smaller.

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in ridiculously romantic shades of orange and pink, he stood close behind you, his hands lightly resting over yours on the small steering wheel. Every so often, his fingers would brush against yours as he adjusted your grip, a fleeting, innocent touch that sent a surprising little jolt through you. Focus, you thought, trying to ignore the sudden awareness of his body so close to yours. He's just preventing me from steering us into a rogue wave, not trying to recreate a scene from a cheesy rom-com.

Now, with the sky on fire, he murmured, "A little more to starboard. You're gonna have us sailing straight into that flock of seagulls. Unless that's your master plan?" His breath was warm against your ear, sending another shiver down your spine.

"They deserve it," you retorted, trying to ignore the way your skin prickled where his hand had just been. 

"How could I ever forget your vendetta against them," he chuckled, his chest vibrating slightly against your back as he laughed. Okay, maybe this is a little bit of a romantic movie moment.

“It’s not funny! It was a life or death situation!” You elbowed him. 

“A seagull stealing a can of beer that you left unattended at the beach is not life or death.”

“So you hate me?” 

“If hate means obsessed with you. Then I hate you soooo much.” He leaned down closer, his cheek brushing against yours, his arms wrapping around your waist as he hugged you from behind. 

Sure, you and John B were always touchy feely, random hugs, drunkenly dancing together, cuddled up together watching movies— it wasn’t out of the ordinary….. but why was your nervous system so acutely aware of it now?

"Remember, a little to the left there," he'd instructed earlier, his voice close to your ear. "Not like you're trying to plow into that poor duck."

"Shut up and stop passenger seat driving! I almost had it.” You grumbled.

"Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, remember? I taught you that, by the way. Seems my genius lessons are fading fast." He’d feigned a wounded expression, but his eyes were sparkling with amusement.

"Maybe if you weren't so busy chasing gold, you'd have more time for refresher courses," you shot back, as the wind whipped through your hair, carrying the salty scent of the lake. 

Finally, he cut the engine in a secluded cove, the water still and reflecting the fiery sky. He pulled out the picnic basket with a grin. "Alright, feast your eyes, Captain!"

The sight of the food in the picnic basket sent a fresh wave of anxiety washing over you. Oh great. Food. Your nemesis these days. Your appetite had officially gone on an indefinite vacation, and even the thought of swallowing felt like a Herculean task. You’d plastered on a convincing smile each time John B had asked you if you were okay, assuring a concerned face that you were totally fine, just a bit preoccupied with assignments and family drama. Liar. Now, you were facing down a club sandwich that suddenly looked the size of a small toddler. Performance time.

"Club sandwiches? My favourite!" you chirped, trying to sound enthusiastic. Internally, your brain was screaming, Swallow? How do humans even do that anymore?

John B beamed, clearly taking your forced enthusiasm as genuine delight. "And I didn’t forget," he produced the bag of Jalapeno Cheddar Lays with a flourish, "for the discerning palate, a little extra crunch."

“You remembered! You’re a quick learner." you exclaimed, your inner monologue adding, More like a mind reader who knows I used to inhale these things before my stomach decided to stage a revolt.

John B unwrapped a club sandwich, meticulously adding a layer of crushed jalapeno cheddar chips. "Behold! The culinary masterpiece. Extra crunchy, just the way you like it." He handed it to you with a hopeful look.

You took the sandwich, the bread feeling suspiciously thick. "Thanks," you mumbled, taking a tiny nibble. It felt like chewing cardboard.

"Everything good?" John B asked, a slight crease appearing between his eyebrows. "You're a bit… quiet over there."

"Yeah, all good," you said, forcing a brighter tone. "Just admiring the view. You picked a pretty sweet spot." Distract, distract, distract.

He watched you for a second longer, his gaze knowing. "You barely touched your sandwich. Not feeling it?"

"Nah, just not starving, you know? Had a late lunch," you lied, internally cringing at the lameness of the excuse.

John B didn't push this time, thankfully. He just kept munching on his sandwich like a starved animal. You took another pathetic nibble, your gaze fixed on the sunset, half-heartedly plotting the sandwich's watery demise.

"This is actually… really nice, Jombie," you said, the words feeling a little heavy. The quiet cove, the way he'd remembered the stupid chips – it was undeniably sweet.

He grinned, that familiar, easy smile reaching his eyes. "If I knew all it was gonna take was a tweet to convince you, I would've spammed my followers years ago."

You snorted, tearing off a piece of crust and flicking it into the water. You watched the little ripples spread. "Please. My Twitter DMs are a wasteland of weirdos. You're not exactly a unicorn."

"But I'm your weirdo," he smirked, flicking a rogue chip in your direction.

You just shrugged, keeping your eyes glued to the water.

"Are the fish more captivating than my dazzling personality?" He huffed, crossing his arms in mock offense.

"No, sorry," you sighed, rubbing your temples, trying to quiet the frantic thoughts swirling in your head. One look at your face and the playful glint in his eyes faded, replaced by a familiar understanding.

He shifted closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders from behind and pulling you back against him, your head fitting perfectly under his chin. "What's got your brain in a knot?" he murmured, his voice low and comforting.

"Everything," you mumbled into his chest.

"Anything in particular?" He asked, gently stroking your hair.

"What is this?" You pulled away, turning to face him, sitting cross-legged on the boat seat. "What are we doing right now?"

He furrowed his brows, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. "We're on a date? I thought… are you not having a good time?"

You tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, shaking your head. "No, I am. And that's the problem!" You threw your hands up, exasperated. "I'm having a great time, but… but we're friends. You're my best friend. You're my Jombie."

"Okay…" he nodded slowly, still looking a little lost.

"But I don't… I don't want us to screw this up," you blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I don't want us to get into something and then have it blow up in our faces— oh god, we're gonna be like Sarah and Mike from that summer camp, remember? They dated for two weeks and then spent the rest of the summer avoiding each other like the plague. That's gonna be us! I'm gonna be the awkward one hiding behind the snack shack."

"Hey, hey," he said softly, reaching out to take your hands in his. His grip was steady and reassuring. "Stop. Just breathe. None of that's gonna happen, okay? And if anyone's ending up alone behind a snack shack, it's probably gonna be JJ looking for discarded hot dog buns."

You pulled your hands away, "I'm being serious!"

"Okay, okay, sorry," he said, raising his hands in surrender. "Look, you know I've been… not exactly subtle about how I feel about you, right? I like you, like, really like you. And if I don't try this, if I don't see where this could go… I'll spend the rest of my life wondering 'what if?' and probably kicking myself every time I see you. I gotta at least try, for me."

"But what if it doesn't work?" you whispered, the fear finally bubbling to the surface. "What if we can't make it work? Will our friendship even survive that?"

"What kind of a question is that?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of hurt.

"A real one," you whispered, tears pricking at your eyes. "Will you still want to be my friend? Will you still care about me when this… this experiment fails? Or have you just been waiting all these years, hoping for this?" You laid it all out there, every raw, insecure thought.

"You will never lose me," he said, his gaze unwavering. "No matter what happens with this… date, with whatever this becomes. You're stuck with me, remember? Since kindergarten and the wormy apple incident."

"Pinky promise?" you whispered, holding out your pinkie, a childish habit that somehow felt incredibly important in that moment.

He immediately interlocked his pinky with yours, his grip firm. "Pinky promise." He leaned in, his eyes searching yours, and you didn't pull away. He cupped your jaw, his thumb gently stroking your cheekbone. Your eyes locked, and then his lips were on yours, soft and hesitant at first, then deepening. Your hands found their way to his neck, pulling him closer, and you barely registered him pulling you onto his lap, straddling him, the world narrowing to just the two of you and the fading light of the sunset.

You were kissing Jombie right now. Had you thought about this moment a million times before? Yes. Did you ever think about acting on it? No. Never in a million years did you imagine his tongue in your mouth, the way he was gently nibbling on your bottom lip, the way his hands were gripping your hips like he was afraid you’d disappear.

Breathless, he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so damn long,” he muttered, his breath warm against your face as he nuzzled his nose against yours.

“You have cheddar and jalapeño breath,” you wrinkled your nose, because of course you had to. Leave it to you to inject a dose of reality into the moment. But John B just laughed, a familiar, easy sound. He was used to your brand of brutal honesty.

“Hey, at least I made it out of the friend zone line, right?” He smirked, looking ridiculously proud of himself.

“About that line…” You grimaced, a sudden thought clouding the moment. “There’s actually someone else in that line too…”

“Who am I in competition with?” He asked with a lazy smile, gently brushing a stray strand of hair back from your forehead.

“Rafe.”

“What?” His smile vanished instantly, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”

“No, not like that,” you quickly explained, a wave of panic washing over you at his reaction. You launched into the convoluted story about the stupid bet with Rafe – the one where you had to lay off the online insults against him and Topper or face a date with the blonde menace.

John B’s face was unreadable as he processed the information. “So that’s why you’ve been letting Topper breathe these days. I thought it was the apocalypse or something.”

“Yes!” You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “It’s been absolute torture.”

“Do you think you can do it?” He asked, his voice laced with a hint of concern.

“I have to. And I will,” you assured him, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

“And I believe in you.” He smiled faintly. “But just for argument’s sake… what if you can’t? Will you actually go out with Rafe then?” A shadow of sadness flickered in his eyes.

“John B,” you sighed, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “That’s not gonna happen, because I don’t lose. That’s why I haven’t lost my virginity yet. Because I never lose.” You tried to inject a bit of your usual bravado, hoping to lighten the mood.

But he didn’t so much as quirk a smile. “So… what? What does this mean?” The unspoken words ‘for us’ hung heavy in the salty air.

“We’re still us,” you said softly. “Let’s just… see how this goes. Just go with the flow.”

“Okay… so you want to keep it casual?” He confirmed, his eyes searching yours.

“Is that okay with you?” You asked, your heart sinking a little. “Because we can just stop this right now. We can just stay friends. Nothing has to change between us.” The words felt heavy and wrong as they left your lips.

“No,” he said firmly, cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. “No, I don’t want to just be your friend anymore. I can’t be around you without wanting to kiss you, without holding you, without feeling you.” He peppered soft kisses along your jawline.

“So…”

“So, screw it,” he whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth. “I’ll take you any way I can get you. Even if it’s just a little bit of you. Even if I have to fight off every other idiot who’s ever looked at you. I’ll tear them apart, limb from limb, until it’s just me left.”

And then his lips were on yours again, fierce and passionate, like he was afraid this was the only chance he’d get. The heat from the kiss spread through your entire body, from your lips down to your core. His hands roamed, trailing on the bare skin of your back under your slightly too-big t-shirt.

You helped him out, pulling your shirt over your head, leaving you in your worn-out bra. It wasn’t anything special, you hadn’t exactly planned for a romantic interlude on a boat, but in that moment, under the moonlight, it just felt right. The sky was a canvas of stars, the crickets chirped their nightly symphony, and a light breeze rustled the leaves on the nearby shore.

He laid you gently back on the deck, his gaze lingering on you as he knelt above you. His eyes, usually so full of carefree laughter, held a flicker of something else now – a deep concern that tugged at his heart. He couldn’t ignore the way your ribs seemed more prominent than they should, the sharp definition of your collarbone, the way you looked… smaller, somehow. He knew, with a sickening certainty, that the darkness you’d fought so hard to overcome was creeping back in, and it tore him apart to see you like this, so fragile. But he also knew that pushing, saying the wrong thing, could send you spiraling. All he could do was be here, hope, and maybe, just maybe, this closeness could offer some small comfort.

“What?” You asked, misinterpreting his gaze, tugging his arms down until his lips met yours again.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, kissing down your neck, his voice thick with emotion. “So beautiful.”

The sound of another boat’s engine, carrying laughter and music, forced you both apart, a shared smile and a roll of your eyes passing between you. You ended up tangled in each other’s arms for the rest of the night, looking at the stars, calling the Sheriff with anonymous tips about Topper being the Kildare Killer (just for kicks), you even braided his surprisingly soft hair at one point, though his attempt at braiding yours ended in a tangled mess. At some point, exhaustion claimed you both, and you drifted off to sleep, the gentle rocking of the boat your lullaby.

It felt right with John B. Familiar. Comfortable. Maybe nothing had to change. Just baby steps. You’d see where this went. And no matter what, you wouldn’t lose him. He had pinky promised.

Taglist: @yktayy9669 @urmomaahoe @rafesgurl @rafesdrew @sophreakingfunny @hannaa20002000 @furiouscopshepherduniversity @mirellef2001 @colbysbrocks @drewstarkeytruelove @luzstarkey @sassyvilliantrope @wintercrows @lolasangelz @scream4mami @pixieflu @beavee11 @wtfisastiles @pandxra @Ivxstarr @kissylec @hannieskzzz @soulsearchinginkauai @mysticbby2009 @matildalittlefreak @giouvarlakia @yncoded @my-name-is-baby @harryzcherry @lilithblackkk @drewstarkeyswife-7 @ethanthequeefqueen @angelicameron @rafecameronswhoore @Imaowhatt @jun13bug @sqfewrd @chillgal135 @angeldiaryy @chirpchirp69

[wizashcs]

Hi hi

May I ask for some spicy stuff where the s/o starts teasing some boys in front of their man/crew? You can take is as you like ~

With Crocodile , Iceburg (He dosn't get enough love), Sanji? Ty ty

Well, well, well… If I have to work with Sanji I really should put on my apron. Sure thing, hon! I’ll do some jealous men for you!;)

One Piece Headcanons - Jealousy

Characters: Sanji, Crocodile, Iceburg

cw.: jealousy, revenge, possesive thoughts/speaking, voyeurism, slight degradation, fingering, oral fem!receiving, oral male!recieving

fem! s/o

(These will be more like scenarios, because no way I can write these shortened💀)

Sanji

You might be used to Sanji’s flirty behaviour towards women by now, however it doesn’t mean it makes you less annoyed. Since you two are together, Sanji shows true love to you, and avoids talking to other women the way he used to. Still, his love and respect towards them becomes a little too much here and there, and he’s not smart enough to notice it in time sometimes. One day, you had enough. When you stopped at a smaller island to buy some goods for the next cruise, you’ve met a few guys around your age at the docks, selling fish and other sea creatures for pretty high prices. Suddenly, a little mean lightbulb lit up above your head. You thought if you used your female charms, you might even get a little bit of a discount on some products, and at the same time, you could teach your dumb man a little bit of a lesson.

You walked towards the salesmen, putting on your kindest smile and honeyed words. Sanji immediately noticed your quick disappearance, he obviously started looking around to find you. You never leave without a word, and that made him worried. And then, he saw you, talking to those men. Oh those men must pay for getting around you, when you’re all by yourself, without him to protect you. You’ve successfully persuaded those boys to give you some of the fish cheaper, when all of the sudden, Sanji appeared beside you. A lit cigarette hung out of his mouth, his eyes looked annoyed, but to you, he spoke sweet like honey.

“You okay, lovely?.” He said, and looked at the merchant. “What’ya you lookin’ at, making the fish rot in the sun? Go and do you job.”

“Sanji… I was doing business.” You murmured, but he was too busy started arguing with the fishermen by now.

“We can talk about that on the ship later, alright apple pie?~ I’ll finish the business for you.”

You let out a heavy sigh, but in the inside, you kind of had your fun. Seeing him looking at those poor guys with his anger filled eyes just because he became jealous of them, talking to you. Your plan worked, but you’re not that mean to not bring up the subject again. Sanji came back to the ship around fifteen minutes later, with a basket of fish… He really finished the business instead of you.

You walked to the kitchen, so you could speak your concerns too, and possibly apologize for your behaviour as well. Sanji was in the kitchen, chopping up some vegetables for lunch, when you entered. He seemed bothered, but he still smiled at you when you appeared.

“Lunch will be ready in two hours, but if you’re hungry I can make you a quick snack, love.”

“You’re the snack itself.” You joked, and hugged him from behind, pressing a kiss on his back. “You know, when those guys gathered around me… I started it.”

Sanji went silent for a bit, and wiped his hands into a clean kitchen rag.

“Even if a woman starts ‘something’, it’s not right to gather around her like that… That must have been scary for you.” You could hear his voice is disappointed, but he didn’t start blaming you, not even a little bit. Your stomach clenched from feeling guilt, so you continued.

“I was trying to get some discount with honeyed words, and… There was a little bit of revenge towards you.”

Sanji turned around this time. He seemed worried. He believed he messed up something hard, and the worst part was that he didn’t know how.

“What? Did I do something wrong, love?”

“Not that wrong!” You tried reassuring. “It’s just sometimes you’re still too kind to other women… It made me feel jealous and I kinda wanted to make you as well…”

“Oh, mon chérie, oh no–” He breathed out, before leaning towards you to kiss your forehead. “I swear to you, I will be more careful with my words… I didn’t mean to hurt you, or make you think you’re not enough. You’re everything I have, and I shall show it to you every day, every way possible… Forgive me.”

“Sanji–“ You spoke his name out of surprise, as he fell on his knees down at your feet, hugging your legs and burying his face into your skirt.

“Darling, I’m begging you on my knees,” He pleaded, and looked up to you with his ever loving eyes. He was desperate to make up to the mistakes he did. “let me please you, right here and now. Let me make it up to you.”

“Sweetheart, it’s fine, you don’t have to– We are in the kitchen!” You tried to reason with him, but there was no use. He wanted this.

“Please.” He whispered, as he started pulling your skirt up, so he could reach your thighs with his mouth. He began to kiss the inner part of your thigh, his fingers gripped your skirt tightly. You didn’t want him to stop, each time he pleaded you to let him eat you out, it got a little harder to think. Eventually, you gave in. He grabbed your panties with his teeth, pulling it down all the way on your legs, until it hit the ground. He teasingly kissed around your womanhood, on that little straight line that separates your pussy from your thighs, and then, down again on your legs. He wanted to show you how appreciated you and all of your body’s hidden treasures are.

“I love you. I promise I’ll cherish you the way you deserve it, my love.” He kissed the words into your thighs, just right before he leaned to your wet cunt so he could finally give you everything he can to make you forgive. His tounge immediately found your favorite spot and speed, because he remembers everything you previously told and showed him about your preferences. You moaned his name quietly, grabbing into his blonde tufts, pleading for him not to ever stop. It only made him even more eager and confident to take you the stars. Don’t expect that you’re going to walk out of the kitchen on your own legs. The number of the orgasms you will get because of him in the next thirty minutes will make your feet go so shaky, that you won’t be able to walk without getting suspicious.

Crocodile

There was a meeting with greater influence at Baroque Works. Your husband, the Warlord Crocodile himself wasn’t paying much attention to you for a few days, since this occassion was a pretty important one. Men and women with high influence gathered to talk through political events, future plans and statistics, with the company of ridiculously expensive champagne and wine. You’ve always hated these kinds of meetings. You’re not important and feared enough to catch anyone’s attention by your power, but Crocodile insists on you to be there at all times, even while he knows you hate these occassions. The truth was, he loved showing you off the people. He loved the feeling that he could make everyone know that a beauty like you, belongs to him, and him only.

Meanwhile Crocodile enjoyed the evening with the people you barely heard about in your lifetime, you sat on your reserved chair, wondering about how much you just want to leave the room and do anything better, than this. You were bored, and a little annoyed at Crocodile as well. He spent long days ignoring you, because all he cared about in the last few weeks was his work, and this meeting. You usually understood how busy he was, but you hated how you were used on these events. Just a wife image? A trophy? The bare thought of it frustrated you. Out of your boredom, or annoyance, a childish idea run into your mind. You stood up from your chair and walked across the room to a man you never even heard about. It didn’t matter how he looked like or what he was doing here, you just wanted him to play a role for a game you wanted to entertain yourself with, (and possibly fill your husband up with anger). Even though he didn’t pay much attention to you on these meetings, sometimes his eyes wandered to you, just for a quick check that you’re there at all. It happened just like this as well, when he noticed you chatting with a man. You chuckled at his unfunny jokes, touched the man’s arm playfully. He didn’t understand your unusual behaviour, but it was sure as hell he didn’t like what he saw.

In that moment, he didn’t care about the subject of the conversation he was having with someone, he left without a word just to reach you.

“You may leave now.” He spoke to you, and you looked up to him, smiling smugly as a fox.

“But I’m having so much fun, darling.”

“I bet you do.” He replied quickly as he grabbed your hand tightly. He looked at the man you were small talking just yet, and told him to piss off, while he was dragging you out of the room. “I don’t want you here causing trouble for me. We’re going to talk about this later.”

You shrugged your shoulders, without a feeling of any responsibility. Honestly, you were a little satisfied too. He deserved a little bit of a reality check by now.

A few hours have passed, and you sat at your desk, reading some book your husband gave you for your birthday. It was one that you were longing to read for years, but it’s so rare because of the lack of copies that he had to spend months researching until he could buy you one of those few. You loved this book dearly, because it always reminded you how much you’re in love with eachother, despite every stupid arguements. You were two pages from the next chapter, when your door opened, and Crocodile came in.

“How was your night, dear?” You asked, not looking up from your book.

“Quit this attitude, until I have my patience.” He said, throwing off his heavy, black furcoat from his shoulders to his chair.

“Yeah, everything is about you, no one cares about my patience!” You choked out and closed your book. You stood now on your feet and started walking to your shared bed, when he caught you by your wrist.

“Your patience? How many hours of work did you put in this project so it could happen, huh?” You shrugged your shoulder again. “No hours, yet there was a place for you at my table, you could participate in such an important event.”

“Oh, don’t make me laugh, Crocodile! You only tolerate me on your dumb meetings, because that would mean you could show off how hot stuff your wife’s made of. What? Is it a problem if I show off my body by myself?” In that sudden moment, he caught your chin with his hand, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“Do you hear yourself when you say such stupidity? You vowed yourself to me. Your body, your mind and soul belongs to me.”

You couldn’t help but get excited at his words…You were frustrated, angry, but never scared. After all, being his was all you had. Your voice became emotionally shaky once you started speaking again:

“Yes… And for that, I did this. All because I wanted you to see me, to have your attention on me. You don’t know how hard it is to deal with you and your work sometimes. I don’t even know when was the last time you actually looked in my way.”

Your bold words caught him by surprise. He took the burnt cigar out of his mouth and pressed it against an ashtray on his desk. Then, he began to laugh, while he walked to you again. He pulled you to your bedroom’s huge window and pressed your back against the cold glass.

“My attention?” He leaned down to your ear, so he could whisper. There was something in his quiet voice that messed up your mind. You wanted him so bad, now more than ever. It was so damn long you could feel his scent in your nose. “Don’t worry, you certainly will have that, after all your hard ‘work’… Now turn around, and bend over.”

What he said caught you off guard… Did he really get aroused from all this? You slowly turned around, and pressed your palms against the window you were standing by. You arched your back like a cat towards him, obeying his words. It was as quick as lightning when he used his hook to tear off the panties you had on until now. The expensive, laced fabric simply fall on the ground, and no one ever talked about them. You didn’t really have time to react to that anyway, because the next thing you felt was two of his fingers pushing their way inside your pussy without any warning. You squirmed and whined by his rough fingers moving inside you, rubbing mercilessly against your sweet spot. As you moved around, he pressed your back down with his hook to keep you in place, and so you could arch your ass a little more for him.

“Quiet. I don’t want anyone to notice how you’re getting fucked until passing out, but at least you can enjoy the thought of being seen. Isn’t this what you wanted, my dear?”

Iceburg

(This will be funny af because the man’s whole career is a headcanon.)

This happened back in the days when you and Iceburg were yet just a couple. His hair was longer back then, but the beard on his chin grew strongly. You loved Iceburg dearly, and he felt the same way towards you. We could say you were pretty popular pair, everyone knew you two were dating for years now. He was young, and worked as a shipwright with a guild. You were always supporting towards him, though you didn’t really have experience on how to do this work, however bringing lunch for him and his colleagues was enough, and very appreciated.

It was a similar hard day for him in work, so you prepared a bunch of food for him and the men he worked with. Though, when you arrived to the workplace, your boyfriend was nowhere to be found. You asked around his coworkers, but no one could say anything more than “He was here a minute ago.” You didn’t start worrying by that, of course, especially since you liked the men he was working with, you thought it would be fun to just talk to them a little until Iceburg arrives back. You gave some of the lunch you prepared for the workers, whom were happy to have you for at least a chat while they take a break. Since you were a fine lady, some of the guys tried to flirt, but there was someone who was showing off his abs to you. To say the truth, you became actually pretty amazed by seeing how big his arms were, so you asked him if you could touch it.

The mean leaned closer to you with his arm, and you gently rubbed it. That was the exact moment when your boyfriend arrived.

“What’s happening here?” He asked, and you flinched, putting your hands away in an instant.

“Baby, finally! Where have you been?” You asked him as you hurried up to him, but he was too worked up with the thing he just saw a few moments ago.

“I saw a turtle walking around the streets and I put it back to the water where it was safe… But honey, why were you touching that idiot’s arm? You don’t love me anymore?” He asked you with serious concern.

“Of course I do, babe, I was just surprised by how big his arm is… I know this sounds dumb like that, but there was nothing more to it.” Not only you, but the workers as well tried reassuring their boss to not worry, which seemed to work.

Half of an hour later you went back home to his house, so you could wait for him there until his shift was over for the day. Around four hours have passed when the front door opened, and Iceburg stepped in the house with a giant teddy bear in his arms.

“Honey, I brought you this bear. Promise you still love me?” He asked, tucking the teddy bear into your arms without further questions. You had to drop everything you had in your hands just so you could hold the surprising gift.

“Iceburg, where have you got this? I told you that I love you, you shouldn’t have bought this for me… Where do I even put it?”

He crossed his arms and looked around the house:

“I don’t know yet, I didn’t think about that. Once I get rich there won’t be a problem with it because we’ll have much more room.”

Sometimes you just had to let his reasons go, he won’t take that giant plushie back to the store, and you couldn’t even ask him to anyway. You put the teddy down on the floor, and turned to him to kiss him. He hugged you by your waist, embracing you tightly to him. You knew his previous concerns were true, he was a sensitive type ever since you knew him.

“I love you, baby.” You murmured between your kisses. “There’s no way I could love anyone more like you, you know.”

“I know…I’m sorry I became jealous.” He kissed your ear as he leaned down to you, wandering to your cheek and mouth with his lips. You felt like you wanted to show you more of how you love and appreciate him. You pressed your palm on his chest, pushing him a little backwards so he would sit down on the couch you had in your livingroom. You sat on his lap, while your hands began to unbutton his shirt.

“What are you doing, honey?” He asked with a pinch of blush on his face.

“Just making you sure that you have no reason to be jealous.” Your smile widened as you started drawing circles on one of his nipples with your thumb. You could feel his erection grow in his pants, and you couldn’t help but begin to move your hips back and forth carefully, rubbing your hungry pussy against his rock hard cock. He sighed quietly, pulling you into a kiss by tucking his fingers in your hair. His dark red lipstick left stains on your mouth, and you loved it every time.

As your passionate kiss deepened, you unzipped his pants, and crawled out of his lap, kneeling down in front of him. You looked up to his messy, blushing face, as you helped his cock out of the tight pants he was trapped in. You stroked it gently, giving it a little bit of lubricant with your saliva.

“I’ll give you the head of your life, babe.” You whispered as you finally took it in your mouth, moving your tounge on his tip desperately. His quiet moans and sighs filled your brain, keeping you motivated to get more of his sweet reactions out of him. His fingers squeezed your hairtufts tightly, but careful enough not to hurt you.

“I love you, (y/n).” He groaned out your name, as he reached for your free hand to hold you. You locked your fingers together, meaning that you two are there for eachother. No matter how many people you cross the streets, no matter how long you’re apart from eachother. You’re always there, and no one can tear you apart.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Selkie and the Sailor

Yandere Male Sailor x Selkie Male Reader

CW: Noncon, kidnapping, general yandere behavior

Word Count: 583

A tale as old as the ages. A human hopelessly enamored by a selkie. Captain Frederick Farview, in his early thirties, was the human. He owned and sailed a large leisure vessel for wealthy customers.

And you were the selkie. An abnormal male one at that. 

He had first encountered you while doing a cruise for wealthy clients. From the boat, he had seen a strange sight. He saw a beautiful man put on some sort of cloth and transform into a beautiful seal before sliding into the water and swimming away. 

He had been so enamored by the creature he had seen in the moonlight that he had to see it again. Out of pure curiosity, and to assure himself that he had not imagined it, he took a smaller personal boat back to the location after the cruise finally ended.

The captain knew it was likely a long shot, but he had to know for sure. To his surprise, he actually went around you, sitting on a rock jutting out of the water in the distance. Though you swam away when you noticed him. 

You had been warned about humans.

But eventually, your curiosity got the better of you, and his persistence paid off. You allowed him to approach within speaking distance. He was charming and kind. Curious about your origins and culture.

Soon enough, he won you over. You shed your seal skin lower half, which allowed you to morph into a human form and board his fancy yacht.

After a few times, you let your guard down, and he wrestled your magic skin from you and forced you to be his.

He hid it away and took you to his home. Having nowhere else to go in this strange world and owning nothing, not even clothes, you were dependent on him and had to endure marriage to him. 

But worse than that, you had to endure his cock constantly. Filling your mouth or ass with his seed constantly. It seemed there was nothing he liked more than having his hands caressing you as he fucked into you while babbling about how perfect and beautiful you were.

One day, though, you finally found your skin. He had taken you for a small trip on his personal yacht, and you found it still stashed there all this time while he slept. Like a treasure to be hidden away from the world.

A treasure indeed.

You took it to the deck and slipped it on before jumping into the water with a splash. Captain Farview woke up and found you missing from his side. He arrived just in time to see you swim away.

With a growl of frustration, he got some fishing gear and was in hot pursuit. The waters here were shallow, so he knew if he was fast, you wouldn't be able to escape.

In the end, he caught you in a net. When he took you home, he tied you up in front of the roaring fireplace and threw your seal skin, your selkie birthright, into the flames.

You screamed and lunged forward, but his strong hands kept you in place as you howled in agony. It pained him to see you like this, but it was the only way to get it through your head that your place was with him.

He picked you up and buried your face in his chest as you wept.

"Come on, let's get you to bed. You've had a long day."

[roosterforme]

In the Line of Duty | Rooster x Reader

Summary: During preparations for a dangerous mission, Bradley finds comfort in writing his thoughts down for his unborn child to eventually read. There's always a chance that he won't make it back, and his final plans involve safeguarding the most important item he brought on his deployment with him.

Warnings: Angst, deployment, pregnancy topics

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley was in the same tiny room with the same seven people for the nineteenth day in a row. He was sweating, too aware of his surroundings. He could hear Reuben breathing next to him. He could hear Admiral Turner's wristwatch counting off every second. He could hear the plans being laid out, but he could barely focus on them.

"The political climate is rapidly changing," the admiral said. "This bombing run is essential, however it will undoubtedly lead to a hostile environment for our allies. Getting the timing just right is essential to a successful mission."

He'd been telling the aviators the same things for days, and while Bradley knew somebody's best interest was at heart, he wasn't really sure it was his. Or Reuben's. Or anybody's in this fucking claustrophobic room. But what choice did he have but to sit here in his flight suit, reeking of jet fuel until he was released?

"Also," Admiral Turner said, his voice laced with exhaustion, "we'll be keeping a close watch on the weather. If you fly this mission, it's going to be a rough takeoff and an even rougher landing. And that's not even mentioning the elements you'll encounter in the air."

Bradley could feel it. The aircraft carrier was a massive vessel, nothing like a cruise ship or anything smaller. It was built to withstand typhoons and hurricanes, but he could still feel it. The movement was getting worse by the hour now. There were deckhands and petty officers walking around with seasickness bags. People were running from the mess hall left and right. The only thing that could be said of this small group of aviators in this tiny ass room was that professional fighter pilots had all traces of motion sickness eliminated from their bodies during flight training, never to be heard from again. He wasn't uncomfortable, but he could still feel it.

"And with that final precaution, I've made my selection for the three pilots who will fly when I say it's time to go." Bradley knew it in his bones even before he heard the admiral say, "Vandal. Patches. Rooster. Everyone else will remain on standby. You're all dismissed."

As he stood, Reuben stuck his fist out. "Congrats, man," he said, and Bradley reached out as well to bump fists. Being chosen was an accomplishment; Bradley always wanted to be chosen. He always wanted to perform to the best of his ability. But his thoughts were so heavy now, filled with new hopes and fears. 

"Thanks, Payback," he replied, following his friend from the room and into the noisy reprieve of the cool hallway. There were people rushing around as the two of them made their way to the mess hall. "But if I have to sit in that room for another day, I'm going to lose my mind."

Reuben laughed as he started to load a tray with food. "I love how the weather is too bad for us to do any training runs, but in the same sentence, we're told to be ready to fly a mission in this. It's like they're steering us right into the worst of the storm."

They were. Bradley could tell they were. There was something strategic about the open water location, but they were absolutely heading into the worst of it. He just hoped it would clear up before he was called out on deck to fly. 

"It's a good thing I haven't barfed in a Super Hornet since that very first time," he said, also piling food that he knew would taste like cardboard onto a plate.

"This shit sucks," Reuben muttered, biting into a roll once they reached an empty table. "We got any more of your wife's cookies back in the bunk?"

Bradley smiled as he looked at the questionable meal in front of him. "A few." He bit into the steak and grimaced. Everything you cooked at home was better than this. He'd trade his whole plate of food right now for half of a grilled cheese sandwich made by your hands. Just thinking about it had his stomach growling louder. "You already ate most of them."

Reuben popped another roll into his mouth and chewed it up before saying, "Rooster, you've got a hot lieutenant commander who can cook for a wife. And a baby on the way. Come on, man. The least you can do is spare some more of those cookies."

Once he let his thoughts drift, Bradley knew it would take hours to get focused on his job again, but he couldn't help it. When he left home, you looked the same as you always did. You'd been complaining about your weight gain and bloating for weeks, but you looked just perfect to him. He wanted to get back home to see if you had a bump yet. He wanted to get home and talk to the Nugget. But he'd already been gone for three weeks, and he hadn't been given a single chance to call or FaceTime with you. 

He hated having no idea how your most recent doctor's appointment went. There were probably new ultrasound photos sitting right on the kitchen counter, but it could be weeks before he got to see how much the Nugget grew since last time. He should be a home, catering to your every whim and building the massive jungle gym for the backyard.

"Are you excited?" Reuben asked, breaking through his thoughts. "You've got what, like five more months to go before you're a dad?"

"One hundred and eighty-six days until the due date," Bradley replied with a grin. "And yeah, I'm pretty fucking excited. It's all I can think about." He tried to finish all of the food, but he set his plate aside and said, "Let's go eat some of those cookies."

An hour later, Bradley was sitting in his bunk, nibbling on the rationed baked goods while Reuben snored across the room. He took this opportunity to get out the pink and blue striped notebook which he affectionately referred to as the Nugget notebook. He'd filled half of it with his musings, and he figured it would be full by your due date. It was silly, just his random thoughts and some sporadic story telling, but he liked the idea of his kid having all of this to look at later. He uncapped his pen, jotted down the date, and started writing what was on his mind. 

You'll never guess where I am right now. No really. It would be impossible, because even I don't really know where I am! But it's somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, I know that for sure. And while I'm really, really far away from you and your mom right now, the two of you are all I can think about....

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

The weather was so bad a few days later that the gym was closed. Bradley and Reuben stood in front of the locked door in their gym clothes looking at each other. 

"This is fucking wild," Bradley muttered, deprived of the only activity he could think of to keep himself busy. The hallways were pretty empty at this time of night, but everything still felt more deserted than usual. The dining menus had been pared down, presumably because half of the kitchen staff was too seasick to make everything. He was starting to feel anxious. "Let's go workout in the bunk and then finish the cookies."

"Sounds good," Reuben replied. They took turns churning out sets of fifty push ups while the other ate a cookie. They did this until they were both sweating and all of the cookies were officially gone.

"Now what the fuck are we supposed to do?" Bradley asked, but any response was cut off by a knocking on the door. He jumped up, glanced at Reuben, and then opened the door for a petty officer. 

"Bradshaw?"

"Yeah?"

"You requested a FaceTime call? Report to the lounge in thirty minutes."

"Thanks," he said, heart beating wildly as he closed the door. He rushed around the room, grinning and grabbing everything he'd need to take a quick shower.

Reuben just laughed and said, "Please thank her again for the cookies."

"Will do," Bradley replied, making a mad dash for the showers. If he did the math correctly, he figured it was between four and five o'clock in the morning back home in San Diego. He hated calling you in the middle of the night, especially when you were pregnant and exhausted, but he knew you'd forgive him. And he desperately needed to see your face and hear your voice.

His hair was still damp when he jogged along the quiet corridors toward the lounge and took a seat in front of one of the computers. He quickly entered his credentials followed by your phone number, and then he waited and waited. "Shit," he muttered, gripping the edge of the table, afraid the call was going to ring through and then cut off. But then he heard you screech his name and saw you as you reached for your glasses while the light from the lamp on your nightstand illuminated your face. 

"Bradley!" you practically screamed again, your voice scratchy from sleep. "Roo! Are you okay?"

"Hey, Baby Girl," he said, feeling calmer than he had in weeks as you juggled your phone around and tried to sit up fully in bed. "I'm fine. Sorry it's so late."

"No, no, no, this is perfect!" you insisted, rubbing your eye behind your glasses as you tried to stifle a yawn. "This is great."

Bradley laughed and said, "I miss you so fucking much. Wish I was in bed right there with you."

"Me too," you insisted, and he could see the sincerity on your face. "It got chilly here tonight, and Tramp isn't as snuggly as you are."

He wanted to kiss you. He wished he could somehow dive through the screen and end up next to you where you'd pull him right into your arms. His voice was just a whisper as he said, "Tell me about the Nugget."

Your smile was soft, and you bit your lip. "Dr. Morris said the Nugget looked great when I was there two weeks ago."

"Two weeks ago," he groaned, rubbing his rough hands along his face. "Sweetheart... I already missed so much." When he looked at the screen again, you were out of bed and on the move. "Where are you going?"

You flipped on the hallway light and said, "To get the ultrasounds to show you. I left them on the kitchen counter."

The fact that he knew that's where they would be made him smile. When you propped your phone up next to the stove and turned on the light, he felt tears stinging his eyes. You held up one of the photos so he could see the baby, and he had to blink past his blurry vision. "There's my Nugget," he said, voice thick with emotion as you held up a second image. "Fucking cutest baby I've ever seen."

Your laughter sounded beautiful as you showed him a third one. "I liked this one the best. I think it looks like the baby is waving hello."

"Shit," he gasped. "You're right. I can't wait to wallpaper our bedroom with copies of these."

You pulled the baby picture away, and he could see your face again as you said, "You're probably not even joking."

"I'm definitely not even joking."

You leaned on the counter and got a little closer to your phone as you said, "Another week or so, and I can go in for an anatomy scan."

Now Bradley felt like crying for a totally different reason. "You get to find out if the Nugget is a boy or a girl."

"Yeah," you said with a nod. "But I don't really want to do that without you there too."

Bradley looked at your beautiful face and the perfect curve of your cheek. He imagined a little baby in your arms with the same flawless features. "I wish I could get home in time to hold your hand and find out in person. But you know I don't care one way or the other. The only nice thing is that we can start narrowing down baby names soon. I actually wrote down a few that I kind of like in the Nugget notebook earlier."

Your smile was brilliant as you told him, "I can't wait to read all of your notebook entries. And if you're not home for my next appointment, I'll be practically vibrating with anticipation until I get to tell you if it's a boy Nugget or a girl Nugget."

Bradley opened his mouth to say he couldn't wait to come home and spend a full day curled up with both of you. He was about to ask you to pull his UVA shirt up and let him see what your belly looked like now. But the lounge door swung open so hard, it sounded like it was going to fall off the hinges.

"Bradshaw!" barked Admiral Turner. "It's time. Get into your flight suit."

"Yes, Sir," he said before glancing back down to see your face as you started to cry.

"You have to go," you sobbed.

"I do," he said quickly. "Right now. Listen, I love you. More than anything. You and the baby both, okay? I love you."

"I love you, too," you sobbed as your lips trembled. "So much."

"I'll be home soon," he promised, even though he knew he couldn't guarantee anything of the sort. "I love you."

After he ended the call, he ran back to the bunk where Reuben was already in his flight suit and pulling on his boots. It was late enough now that it had to be dark outside, so he was either about to fly another mission without the use of one of his senses, or they were sending him out at first light. Either way, he knew what he had to do, so he pulled his own flight suit on with shaky hands.

The call with you had calmed his nerves right up until the point when he had to abruptly end it. What he wouldn't give to be back home within a week. He'd drive you to the appointment in his Bronco and hold your hand the whole time. Dr. Morris would let you know if he was going to be the dad to a daughter or a son. His little Nugget.

"You ready?" Reuben asked as Bradley finished lacing up his boots. 

He looked up at his friend as he stood. "Actually, no," he said, pulling his duffle out from under his bed. He started rooting through it as he said, "I need you to potentially do me a favor."

"Sure," Reuben replied, "but we gotta get to the meeting room now, Rooster."

"I know," he mumbled in response as his hands connected with the most important thing he had with him. He held up the pink and blue notebook, his voice calm in spite of his nerves as he said, "Just real quick, you see this? I need you to take this back to my wife if anything happens to me."

His friend was silent for a beat before he said, "Alright. I can do that."

Bradley's fingers tightened around the spiral binding holding together all of his thoughts about fatherhood and how much he loved his unborn child. And now his voice shook a bit as he said, "This is very important to me."

Reuben nodded and said, "Understood. I promise I'll take care of it if the need arises."

"Thank you." Bradley kissed the striped cover and propped the notebook up against his pillow, giving it one last look before he followed Reuben from the bunk.

At first light, Bradley made his way out onto the carrier deck through the rain and whistling wind. The mission was on. The weather was miserable, but the plethora of Naval officers deemed this the best opportunity they were going to get to help their allies. 

It was time. Time for Bradley to trust himself. And if he failed, he trusted Reuben to take the notebook back to San Diego and get it into the hands of his wife. Then you'd take care of the notebook for the Nugget. Because if there was one person who was never going to let him down, it was you.

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

I can't deal with how much I've been hurting my own feelings with these two. Should we start a new series? Would that be okay? A tragic, new series? Thank you for reading about and loving them! Please stay tuned. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[mamasturn]

how many drinks? benny cross

pairing: benny cross x black fem oc (sennett aliah) summary: she's new in town and the infamous biker benny cross invites her for drinks. warning: suggestive themes. light language. tags: @faephoria @thetaoofzoe @turn-thy-paige @contrarybeliefs @qveendiorsworld @blukit04 @neewrites

She was in a new era of life. Single, childless, and without any burden on her shoulders. On her way through a town with whom she knew not a soul. It was quite bold of her, she had to admit. To trudge into a small town in the heart of Illinois with a smaller Black population than the spectacles on the bottom of her shoe, from a city in Georgia where everywhere she turned, someone looked like her. 

She was far from nervous or afraid. The most they could do was call her out her name, but who was she to get bent out of shape over misplaced anger and lack of intelligence? No one. 

So, she packed her car with her belongings, drove to Illinois, sweet talked her way into a small house for less than it was worth, and began to make herself at home. Home. As best as she could, she figured. 

She kept in contact with her mother and cousin, who both cursed her for going to Illinois, but praised her courage and determination. She’d done what they never would have dreamed of. 

After a long day of packing and sweating like a dog, she took a cold shower, shoved her legs into a pair of old Levi’s jeans, threw a distressed cropped shirt on, slipped on her boots, and hopped into her 1952 convertible. 

Her dark hair blew in the wind as she cruised down the street, no care for the speed limit sign. She glanced at the speedometer. 67 in a 25 wasn’t bad, right? Her fingertips drummed along the body of the car as she hummed along to the song playing through the static radio.

If you’re looking for trouble…you’ve come to the right place. 

She’d heard of a bar in town from a group of men at the gas station. Owned and oftentimes filled by outlaw bikers from Chicago. Dangerous guys, the men insisted. To stay clear of at all times. While she wasn’t easily scared, she wouldn’t do what her heart desired to do. She’d be on her best behavior; just get a drink or two, flirt with a man with a scruffy beard, and go back home to look for jobs in the paper. A solid plan, she thought. 

It seemed like the world grew silent when the door of her convertible slammed shut. All eyes were on her. By their facial expressions, she knew what they were thinking. Who the hell is she? An unfamiliar woman with an unfamiliar face. It didn’t phase her. She simply gave a raspy, “Hello,” and tried to brush past the lunkheads at the door who refused to make it easy for her to enter. 

“What’re you doing?” One of them asked roughly. Her eyes dropped and her lips straightened. The tough-guy act wasn’t threatening; it didn’t put the fear of God in her heart. Hell, she could have laughed at how their chests blew up like a balloon and their arms crossed over them. 

“I want a drink. Heard this was the place to be,” she said simply with a shrug. She stood on her toes for a moment to eye the scenery behind them. Men and women in the corners, bikers’ wives gossipping over cigarettes and cold beer, the sound of balls colliding against each other on the pool table. “So, can I come in?” 

The lunkheads glanced at once another. They were prepared to say no. She could see it by the way their tongues lifted against the roof of their mouths and their lips rounded. She rolled her eyes in frustration. What the hell did a girl have to do to get a drink around here? 

“You know what, forget it.” She threw her hands up in surrender and prepared to walk away. She spent hours driving and even more time unpacking, the last thing she wanted to deal with was a lunkhead rejecting her from the bar, especially when she had money she was willing to spend on a drink. 

Then suddenly, she heard a voice say. “She’s with me. Let her in.” Her head bounced like a spring. The owner of the voice stood behind the lunkheads. He nodded toward the entrance and she knew better than to think too long, so she smiled slyly at the men outside and brushed past them. “Thank you, boys.” 

This was the place to be, she noted. The smell of smoke and strong liquor burned her nose and she loved it. Her eyes closed as she inhaled deeply. Finally. She was brought out of her fantasy world when he asked, “Do you want a drink?” His voice was hardly above a whisper, but his blue eyes on hers forced her attention to be directed to him. She nodded. 

He led her to the bar which was crowded but they were swift to move out the way for Benny, she heard them call him, and some pretty thing from around the way. At that, she became the star of the evening. The men glanced at her like they wanted to eat her or kill her, and the women tilted their heads in interest as to who she was. She chose not to respond. Nothing would keep her from getting the buzz she so rightfully deserved. 

“Pick your poison,” he said, pointing toward the wall of neatly organized liquor behind Johnny, who took on serving for the time being. 

“Whiskey neat,” she told Johnny, whose eyebrows raised. The corner of her lips turned upward. “Need something strong.” 

Johnny chuckled, “You got it, darlin’.” 

The man, Benny, wasn’t a man of many words, she noticed. He only spoke when he needed to. She presumed he was a man of action. He had to be if rather than asking her a million and one questions at the door, he simply told the guards to let her in. Rather than asking her what she wanted, he told her to pick for herself. A man of action, she noted. 

He was incredibly handsome, too. She had never seen herself finding herself attracted to a man again after her split from her husband a year prior. But Benny, he was a sight for sore eyes. Dirty blonde hair styled messily, daunting blue eyes, and a scruffy beard. Lord, she was a goner for beards. 

She appreciated the dirt on his boots, rips in his jeans, and crinkled in his cut. A seasoned biker. She’d never been with a biker before. Was it worth what the women in here giggled and blushed over when their men walked in the room and gave them a wink? She wondered how bad she’d be for wanting to find out. 

“You’ve got a wandering eye,” he said after some time. He didn’t look at her as he said it. His eyes were trained on the liquid he swirled in his short glass. She should’ve been embarrassed for getting caught but she was far from it. “You stare at strangers often?” 

She smiled slyly. “Just the ones who get me a drink. Which, I appreciate, by the way. Haven’t been able to find a decent joint all day.” She thanked Johnny who’d handed her a drink and knocked it back in one go. That caught Benny’s attention. How she didn’t flinch when it went down her throat. How her full lips pursed just slightly, how a drop of whiskey escaped her lips and slid off her cheek down her neck until it settled at the valley of her breasts. He sighed deeply. 

“Look who’s starting now, Benny,” she teased. For the first time that night, Benny met her eyes. God, he was so beautiful. She’d grab him and lick the drop of whiskey right off his lips. He beat her to the punch. She was jealous of his lip; having the ability to be caressed by his tongue. 

“Never caught your name,” Benny said, not directly addressing her comment. He nodded at Johnny, who had filled both their glasses. “I’d assume it compliments that unique personality of yours.”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder, a smile spreading across her blood-red lips. “Sennett.” 

Benny nodded, intrigued. Sennett. She was something spicy. She moved without a care in the world. She was bold and free. He knew from the moment she strutted to the door after hopping out of her convertible that she was a force to be reckoned with. He wanted to reckon with it. 

“Sennett.” Her name tasted tangy on his tongue. Like a piece of sour candy that he knew would cause a tinge of discomfort before it got delicious. With his hands folded on the table, he asked, “How many drinks do you think you’re having tonight, Sennett?"

She shivered. “How ever many you’re willing to treat me to.” 

His eyebrow raised in interest, “Good.” 

-

She knew how to handle her liquor, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t affect her in more ways than one. Liquid courage was a beautiful thing. It had her pressed against a wall in a dimly lit closet filled with dust and cobwebs but she didn’t mind it at all. 

Benny was mysterious. So mysterious and so under the radar that she didn’t expect his boldness and assertiveness to boil over the way it did. He had his hand wrapped around her throat as he claimed ownership over her lips with a dominance and intentionality that knocked the wind out of her chest. 

Her red nails combed through his dirty blonde hair and tugged at the roots. Her body was on fire, lit up like a flame. She could feel the sweat gather at her forehead and droplets slid down the valley of her breasts. The throbbing between her thighs pounded like a drum. She was desparate to soothe the ache and used his thigh to rid the tension building within her. 

Benny chuckled against her lips, snaking his hand between their bodies. His calloused fingers caressed her stomach, his thumb and forefinger tugging at her belly ring. She winced. Then, they dropped to the crevice between her thighs. Her jeans were thick but she could feel the warmth of his fingertips grazing her clit and she jolted. “Benny…”

His lips fell to her neck and she moaned loudly. He nipped and sucked until her chest and collarbone were bruised. Against her skin he whispered, “Not here…not now.” She released a guttural groan of frustration. Sennett could appreciate a man with logic, but goodness, all she wanted to do was have him take her right then and there. 

“Why not?”

Benny broke away from her. His arm stayed wrapped around her waist with his hand stroking her backside. His right thumb swiped along the sides of her mouth to wipe away the remnants of their oral tango. “Cause contrary to popular belief, I’m a man of class.” His words were stoic but she heard the playfulness in them. “And uh, a closet isn’t comfy for anybody.” 

Sennett’s hand didn’t fall from his hair and his didn’t fall from her waist. She hummed and nodded once. “Well, we’ll see how many drinks it takes you to take me in a closet next time, yeah?” 

His eyebrow raised. A force to be reckoned with for sure.