#tat was better than anything I could come up with

[chunghasweetie]

Haiii i've never submitted a request so bare with me.

What do you think about a criminal jk who's been in prison for over a year (don't know what crime u can pick honestly) him and y/n are in a established relationship and she's been waiting all this time for him to get out. Anyway he comes home and yk.. i'm sure you can get the rest ;)

𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐘 | J.JK

— pairing | fem!oc x criminal!jjk

— summary | (sorry it took so long!🩷) jungkook’s been locked up for 4 years and he’s finally back to see you !

— warning | bad writing (i’m doing my best)

unprotected sex, cursing, praising, daddy kink, dirty talk, crying, fluff(?)

— word count | 3.5k words

— song suggestion | wrong in the right way — chris brown

It was his first night freed from his 4 year jail sentence. After having a buddy drop off his car on the way to her, he was finally there.

Locked up for assault and battery and countless other charges he was finally free and finally able to see his woman again.

His tatted, muscular body stood at her doorstep, “Fuck,” He exhaled, taking a drag from his cigarette.

He was anxious to see her after endless phone calls and letters for years. He surprised her a day early. He finally stopped thinking about it and knocked at her door.

“Coming!” She hurried down the stairs, not expecting any guests at that hour.

She was in her pajama outfit, hair lightly curled and her face bare beside some eye brightener.

She opened the door, and she had almost gone into shock.

She came to a full body pause, color practically draining from her face when she seen him. “J-Jungkook!”

Jungkook's eyes softened at the sight of her, seeing the tears. He stepped forward, grabbing her in a tight embrace.

“I missed you so fucking much Y/n.” He mumbled into her hair. His hands ran up and down her back, holding her close.

She sobbed, “You bastard! Why didn’t you let me know you got out early?! I would’ve picked you up, done my makeup better, took you to dinner—“ She rambled.

Jungkook pulled back, gazing down at her with a smirk.

“Because I wanted to surprise you, Y/n. And you look fucking perfect just like this.” He ran his hand through her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. “Finally face to face with my queen.”

“Fucking come in.” She sniffed. “All standing here in my doorway.” She hurried him in.

Jungkook stepped inside, his eyes scanning the apartment.

It looked a lot different than what he had remembered. It was a lot more modern and a bit girly. But it still felt like home.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume. He followed her to the living room, his eyes locked on her as she walked away from him. He couldn't help but grin.

He was finally home.

“Missed you so much” She sniffed. “I didn’t fucking plan anything— Shit. You gotta be hungry right? Are you cold?”

“Relax baby. I didn’t expect you to be completely ready tonight,” He wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her close to him.

“But yes, I am fucking starving. Even thought I just wanna sit here and hold you.” He nuzzled his face into her neck, breathing in her scent.

“No baby— Gotta take care of you first. Probably want to eat good. Prison must’ve been so rough.” She pouted, babying him.

“Yeah, it was. But nothing's worse than being away from you, ma. You know that, right?” He pulled away from her, turning her around to face him.

He cupped her cheeks, his thumbs rubbing against her soft skin. “I missed your smile, your laugh, your attitude. Everything Y/n.”

“I missed you more than you could imagine Jungkook.” Her lip quivered. “So much.”

“I know, ma. You always made sure I know. You were always the one person I could count on, even behind bars.” He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers.

The kiss was soft and gentle, but it held a depth of passion that only they could understood. “I love you.”

“I love you more. So much more.” She kissed him back, “I’ll cook for you. I’ll show you to our room— I fixed it up for you!”

She led him upstairs, rushing him due to her excitement. “Are you ready to see it?”

“I'm more than ready, ma. I've been dreaming of this moment for so long. I've missed our bed, our room, all of it."

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "You look stunning, ma. You've never looked more beautiful to me."

Their room looked more homey and relaxing. She bought him a whole new closet full of clothes and shoes to his liking.

“I bought you some new ashtrays to put on your nightstand.” She told him. “There’s some lighters down there too.”

“You're spoiling me. And I’m more than grateful. I can already smell the smoke wafting through the air. You know me more than anyone." He grinned, running his hand over the new clothes.

"I love what you've done here, ma. You really outdid yourself for me and I couldn’t thank you more.” He added, thanking her once more.

“Anyrhing for you. I wanted you to come home and feel comfortable and relaxed.” She smiled.

“Now go shower, change, whatever you need to do to get all that prison time off your skin.” She laughed. “I’m gonna go downstairs and cook you some food that’ll knock you the hell out.”

Jungkook smiled, pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss. "You're the best, ma. I love you so fucking much." He whispered, giving her earlobe a gentle kiss before pulling away. "I'll be down in a few.”

“Take your time baby. Really.” She pecked his cheek, hesitant to leave him while she walked down to the kitchen.

Jungkook grabbed her hand before she could walk away, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss.

"Thank you again baby— Seriously." He gave her a reassuring smile, squeezing her hand gently.

She left him and headed back downstairs, prepping dinner for him.

“I’ll miss you!” She called out from the kitchen, blushing and giggling in excitement.

She couldn’t believe he was really out of prison.

For years she spent everyday fantasizing and day dreaming about him finally living at home again. For him to actually be here was ground breaking.

She had devoted herself to that man the entire time he’d been away. Her friends would try to encourage her to see other men to fill in the gaps of his absence but she absolutely refused.

She had many opportunities. She was a beautiful woman.

But no other man could ever compare to Jungkook.

She started preparing a quick yet savory meal for them to eat while he was showering.

She had prepped wonton soup for the actual night of his arrival but she had enough ingredients to make it for him tonight.

Jungkook was upstairs. He stripped down to his white tank, revealing his well-built, tattooed body.

He smirked at himself in the mirror, satisfied with how much he had grown during his time.

He turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature to his liking before stepping in.

After scrubbing and shaving after what felt like forever, Jungkook hummed to himself as he stepped out the shower, feeling refreshed and anew.

He dried himself up before wrapping the towel around his waist, he stepped into the kitchen where his girl was. “Smells amazing baby, what is it?" He kissed her cheek, leaning on the counter.

“I made a homemade wonton soup with a side of rice.” She smiled, “You look clean. Someone’s already comfy back home.”

Jungkook chuckled, “With everything you’ve done, you made it easy.” He grinned as his stomach growled, looking down at himself.

“Go put some clothes on and dry your hair. You’re gonna get sick. I laid out clothes on the bed.” She instructed. ���Use my hairdryer in the bathroom. Should be hung up in the bathroom.”

She took care of him and she tried his best to always pamper him. "Yes ma'am." He smiled, standing up and giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. "I'll be right back, baby."

Jungkook went back to the bathroom and dried his hair then put on the clothes she laid out for him.

He took a look at himself in the mirror and smiled. He had been evaluating their home since he arrived, she had really good taste.

He walked back into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her neck and inhaling her scent once more.


Couldn’t get enough.

“So much better huh baby?” She hummed, lost in his embrace.

“Definitely, baby. You always make me better." Jungkook whispered in her ear before giving her a soft and lingering kiss.

He reached for the food she was cooking, but she stopped him. “No. I’ll serve you. Go sit down.”

“Body” He obliged, not able to help it but steal another kiss before sitting down to eat with her. "This smells amazing, love."

She served him his soup along with a cup of jasmine hot tea.

She placed his bowl and cup on his side of the table. She served herself after him, sitting across from him. “Let me know if you like it. Too hot, too cold, too spicy, too salty. Anything like that.”

Jungkook blew on his soup before taking a spoon full, burning his tongue a little bit but he didn't care.

He was just desperate for a home cooked meal.

"This is so fucking good, Y/n… like really fucking good." He glanced up at her, giving her a little smirk before taking another bite.

“I’m not just saying that either.” He munched, lost in the taste of his food.

She laughed, “Glad you’ like it.” She enjoyed her soup across from him.

Jungkook finished his soup, but didn't finish his whole bowl of rice.

He sat back and took a sip of his tea. "So how was your day today? Besides making me the best fucking soup I've ever had?"

“I just spent today prepping for you to get here. Cleaned all day.” She exhaled.

“Was the rice not cooked right? You didn’t finish.” She looked at him, concerned a bit at his action.

Jungkook shook his head. "The rice is fine, love. It's just not my favorite thing to eat."

He took another sip of his tea and reached under the table, squeezing her knee. "It’s all I ever ate when I was in there— not really my favorite at the moment."

“Oh my gosh!” Her eyes widened, “I wasn’t even thinking!”

“Baby you make rice with every meal. It’s like muscle memory for you.” He chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. You’re too cute to worry.”

“It’s my man’s first night home from prison. Of course your opinion matters to me.” She sighed.

Jungkook smiled at her and looked down at his empty bowl. He reached for her hand and glanced back up at her. "You don't have to care about anything when it comes to me. I’m amazed by everything you do.”

“Mm so sweet.” She blushed, “Go relax.” She seized their bowls, washing them in the sink.

Jungkook laughed, "I just want to make sure you're happy too. Wouldn’t want my baby like that in her own house" He stood, slowly making his way around the kitchen island.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and moved his lips to her neck, giving her a soft kiss. "Smell so good baby. Can’t get away from you.”

She blushed at the close proximity, continuing the dishes.

Jungkook pulled away from her neck, his eyes glancing over her face. He enjoyed seeing her blush more than he thought he did.

"What's going on in your head? You can tell me you know." He leaned against the counter, watching her intently.

“Nothing.” She shrugged. “I’m just happy you’re here. More than happy I’m just— thankful.”

She started getting emotional, blinking back tears. “I just thought— I thought you’d have to stay longer.”

Jungkook walked towards her, his finger pushed her chin up, making her look at him.

"Don't cry on me now, damn baby. Making me feel guilty.” He wipes away a tear that fell down her cheek with his thumb. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close.

“Sorry sorry” She apologized, fanning herself.

Jungkook smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead, moving her to clear her teary eyes. "Don't apologize for showing your emotions to me. I love how much you care for me."

“You smell so good too.” She hummed against him. “Better than that nasty fresh out of prison smell.” She laughed.

Jungkook grins, sniffing himself to remind her of the smell she meant, his arms squeezing around her. "If you thought it smelled bad..."

He kisses her cheek, “Imagine when I wasn't this clean for four years.” He teased, laughing.

“Ewww.” She giggled, “I’m okay not thinking about that.”

Jungkook chuckles, pulling back to look at her, cupping her cheek and wiping away loose tears with his thumb. "You're so cute."

He was laughing again. "Y/n, I missed you... I really fucking missed you. I don’t care how many times I told you tonight.”

“I missed you too Jungkook— Writing and calling you definitely isn’t as good as having you here at home with me.” She admitted.

Jungkook smiles, his eyes bright with happiness. "Yeah, I know... I fucking hated the phone. But-" He takes her hand in his.

"Being here now, being able to show up in the morning and see you again and again will make up for it all." He flashes her a wide grin.

“Four years was such a long time.” She groaned, walking out from the kitchen and walking up to their bedroom.

Jungkook nods and follows her, watching her hips sway as his thoughts drift to more primal thoughts.

He felt bad for wanting to get straight to it. But she had been teasing him in those

"It was. But hey-" He says from behind her. He wraps arms around her mid-section. "I'm here now. Should we get to it? Break our bed in together?"

“Oh my gosh you’re so annoying” She smacks his arm, “Go put on a movie while I change. You’re gonna be scrolling for a minute. I’ll be back.”

Jungkook laughs and lets go, jumping onto the bed. He grabbed the remote off the nightstand, surfing through the different streaming services.

He hadn’t seen anything like this in quite some time, but he already knew what he was looking for. She was definitely wrong about him scrolling for a minute.

She changed into a pajama set, being sure to show off a bit by leaving some buttons undone.

She knew what was gonna go down tonight, she just wanted him to wait for it.

She made her way back to the bed, resting her body beside him closely. “What’re we watching?”

“Starting tonight we’re gonna watch every Marvel movie made since I got locked up.”

“Are you serious?” She groaned. “That’s an insane amount of movies.”

“But,” He pouted cutely. “Your baby has been locked up for sooo long.”

“I hate you.”

He wraps arms around her mid-section, resting his head on her waist. "You know you love me, ma... and I sure as fuck love you."

“I love you more” She laughed and pecked his lips, playing with his hair as they watched the first movie together.

Jungkook hums in contentment, closing his eyes and letting her play with his hair.

Throughout the movie, Jungkook couldn’t help but grow more and more desperate.

He was on edge for the past few months. In prison they called and wrote letters but recently her letters had been more

Seductive.

Letters that consisted wordy details of her burning desire and unstoppable urge to have him.

“One more? Please? Last time really.” He pleaded.

“Fine.” She pecked his lips.

A few minutes later.

“Please?”

“Okay.” She pecked his lips.

More minutes go by.

“One more? Last time really.”

“Ugh fine.” She groaned, pecking his lips once more.

“Fuck I can’t take it." He groans as she pecks his lips, unable to help but leaning in and making out with her as their movie plays in the background.

“Don’t know how you expected this to go when you look like this.” He mumbled against her lips, mouth getting messier. “Wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Need to make love to you since you got locked up” Her kisses grew more demanding.

Jungkook flips them over, pinning her down onto the bed and kissing her harder in return. "I needed you to fuckin' kiss me that hard when I was locked up.”

His hips buck up against hers, grinding his hardened cock against her thighs. “Dreamt about this every fuckin’ night.”

“I know baby fuck— me too” She grunted.

Jungkook reaches over to unbutton her pajama pants, before sliding them down her legs slowly— trailing kisses down her thighs as he does. "Take 'em off, baby. I wanna see how fuckin' wet you are for me already."

“Wanted dick since you got locked up— Been wet since you got released.” She couldn’t help the bashful expression all over her.

Yeah?" Jungkook grins, slipping his fingers underneath her panties and teasingly spreading her lower lips, his fingers slipping and teasing over her clit. "And how wet are you actually baby?"

“Fuck” She could cum at the contact alone. “S-So wet.”

Jungkook snickers, slipping a finger deep inside of her and pumping it in and out slowly, moaning at the tight and hot feeling around his fingers. "Fuckin' wet and tight girl hm? Huh baby?"

“F-Feels good daddy” The sensual nickname slipped from her lips, making his ears ring at the sweet sensation of her voice.

Jungkook groans at that nickname, thrusting his finger in and out of her faster now. "Shiiit, baby, you know I love it when you call me that."

He then pulls his fingers out, sucking them clean. “Love the way you taste. Needed that for years.”

“C-Can’t take it” She whimpered at the feeling of his retracting fingers.

Maybe it had been too long for her. By herself it took a good amount of work for her to get off but this was ruining her in seconds.

Jungkook smirks at that, pulling his pants down, his already hard length flopping out. "You’re gonna take it good baby?”

“Daddy please—“

“Is that all you got?" Jungkook taunts, teasing her entrance with his tip. "Beg some more, or you ain't getting this dick."

His dominant and demanding voice was coming back into play, almost better than what she remembered.

“Want it so bad. I’ll take it good, I promise.” Her voice cried, “So desperate.”

Jungkook groans at her begging, slowly pushing inside her. "Mmm fuck— so damn tight, just like that baby.”

“Take Daddy's dick." Him fully entering into her in a slow, but deep pace.

Her chest rose as he slid inside her. She swallowed, adjusting herself to his length.

Jungkook smirks at her reaction, gripping her hips as he begins to thrust in faster, a low moan leaving his lips.

“Missed this wet ass pussy” He stared her down. “You miss that, baby? How Daddy fucks you like this?"

“Y-Yes”

“Fat ol’ ass and huge ass tits— And a pretty face. God, you're so fucking hot." Jungkook grunts, picking up the pace, thrusting harder and faster.

The sound of skin on skin filling the room, making sure to hit that sweet spot. "This what you wanted, huh baby?

“All I-I wanted— all I needed.” She whined out. “Fucking amazing.”

“I thought I was desperate." Jungkook growls, slapping her ass hard. “Such a pretty girl. Didn’t try to play me once.”

The room is filled with even louder wet slaps of his hips against her ass and his smacks. His thrusts becoming more erratic, his cock growing desperate for release.

“All for you, all yours. Been with no one but you.” She moaned, truthfully speaking.

"Good girl." Jungkook leans forward, nipping at her neck before whispering in her ear.

"Say my name, Y/n. Who's dick are you on?" He grips her throat.

“Fuck! Yours Daddy! Yours!” She was a mess on his cock, eyes rolling back.

“That’s my girl. All fucking mine.” He was watching as her body shudders from his touch.

He admired the way she was breaking down in front of him, going dumb on his dick.

The way her body twitched, he knew she was growing closer.

He watched her, clearly enjoying her lack of breath. The way she squirms, his to control and use.

"Gonna cum on daddy’s dick baby? Gonna let go for me?" He's almost there, wanting to finish strong.

“Want your cum— Need it.” She whimpered, eyes growing teary from the overwhelming pleasure. “Please daddy.”

“So fucking hard to say no to you." Jungkook snorts, pounding into her mercilessly. He was seeking his needed high so he could cum right with her.

The couple both reached their orgasms, moaning each other’s names before giving in and cumming together.

“Fuck— so in love with you.” Jungkook grunts, emptily filling her up. He catches his breath, panting with her.

She could hardly get out of the bed because of him, she was limp.

She was shuttering from her orgasm. Her legs were a trembling mess.

He watches her collect herself, loving the sight of her. The way she looks so used and satisfied, only at his hands.

Once she was all together, she got back in bed with him, kissing and chucking with him as the two panted together.

“I still got it.”

“Goddamnit Jungkook.” She hid her face. “Yes- you do.”

[slut4thebroken]

tit for tat

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Robert Fischer x dom!reader

Summary | Robert gets all bratty when you won’t deepthroat him, so you decide to show him how hard it actually is.

Warnings | Smut, strap-ons lol, blow jobs, deep throating, gagging, he’s a bit of a brat, praise, and a dash of dacryphilia hehe, he’s so fucking pathetic 😩🫶

Words | 1.1 k

Notes | god I want to ruin him so fucking bad

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 5: strap-ons

He whined loudly and tugged on your hair, forcing you down further on his cock. When the tip hit the back of your mouth and you gagged, you pulled back. 

“Stop it. I won’t tell you again.” You warned, making him pout. You took him in your mouth again and he mewled as his back arched off the bed. While you mostly paid attention to the tip, you’d occasionally bob up and down. Every single time you went down, he whined and his grip on your hair tightened. For a while, he obeyed and didn’t try to do anything else, but when he pushed you down on his cock until you gagged again, you finally snapped and pulled off. 

“No..” He whined, jerking your head back down. 

“Do I need to tie you up?” 

“Why can’t you just go all the way down?” He whimpered pathetically. “It feels so good.” Something about the way he said that— the way he made it seem like deepthroating an entire cock over and over again was such a casual thing to do— really irked you. 

“Because, Robert,” he whined when you didn’t use a pet name, “it’s hard and I’m not in the mood for it right now.” 

“Hard?” He scoffed, only getting brattier. “You do this all the time, how can it still be hard?” You stared at him, already coming up with a plan in your head, and you could see his expression slowly start to falter once he realized. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think deepthroating was an Olympic level skill.” He huffed sarcastically, originally trying to backtrack to avoid being punished, but unable to resist giving you another bratty retort. 

This would’ve been when you punished him— maybe ruined his orgasm or spanked his cock until he came… but you had a far better idea. 

When you suddenly got up, he whined brattishly. “Where are you going?” He pouted, watching you walk to the closet where all of the sex toys were stored. You ignored him and grabbed the strap, as well as a dildo that was just a little bit smaller than Robert’s cock. “I thought we weren’t gonna do that today.” He didn’t necessarily sound upset, just a little caught off guard that oral was suddenly turning into pegging. Still ignoring him, you walked back over and put everything on, then grabbed his hair and dragged him off the bed, making him cry out. Once he was kneeling at your feet, you kept a firm grip on his hair and pulled his head closer so he was right in front of the strap.

“Suck.” You said plainly. His brows scrunched together and he looked between you and the dildo. 

“But I wanna come.” He frowned. 

Tightening your grip on his hair, you lowered your voice into something more menacing, “Suck or you’ll be wearing the cage for a week.” His frown deepened and you could tell he wanted to protest, but he just huffed and shuffled closer to you. He grabbed the base of the dildo and reluctantly wrapped his lips around the tip, starting to suck slowly. 

When you saw his free hand reach down to start touching his own cock, you jerked his head back by his hair, making him hiss in pain. “Hands behind your back.” You ordered, and he huffed again, all but rolling his eyes. He put his hands behind his back and started bobbing up and down slowly, not even reaching halfway. 

“Take it all the way down.” You said sternly. 

He pulled back and looked up at you with a pout. “Can’t...” He whined pathetically, no doubt trying to guilt trip you into changing your mind. 

“What’s your color?” 

“…Green.” He muttered. 

“Then fucking learn.” Your voice was significantly more harsh than just a second ago and you started guiding him back on the dildo before he could protest. He went down and tried to go back up, but you kept him in place, slowly pushing him down even more. When he gagged, you finally let him pull off to catch his breath. “C’mon,” you demanded, jerking his head impatiently, “go all the way down, it feels so good.” You said dryly and he immediately frowned when you mocked his previous words. 

“I said I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t care. Suck.” 

You forced him back down and adjusted your grip to have both hands holding his head instead. He gagged again and tried to pull off, but you kept pushing him down, trying to breach his throat barrier. When he coughed and sputtered, instinctively bringing his hands up to push at your thighs, you let him have another break. A string of saliva connected his lips to the dildo and you could already see the tears in his eyes.

“I don’t know why you’re struggling so much. It’s not like deepthroating is an Olympic level skill.” You sneered, pulling him back down on the dildo again. You were determined to actually get it all the way in, so you continued pulling him down. “This would be a lot easier if I could actually feel where it was in your mouth…” You muttered to yourself, then addressed him directly, “Relax your throat, angel.”

He gagged and sputtered, tears streaming down his cheeks and saliva rolling down his chin and the toy. Just when you were about to give him another break, the dildo popped past his throat barrier and the gentle force you were using made him go all the way down, his face hitting your pelvis. 

“Oh good boy.” You moaned, bending over a little and wrapping your arms around his head, holding him firmly in place as he struggled. “Hold it, baby. Just a little longer.” He let out a strangled sound that was muffled by the dildo and squeezed your thighs, digging his nails into them. After another moment, you finally let him pull away and he coughed almost violently, taking in ragged breaths. 

“That was so good, angel.” You said softly, using one hand to pet his hair, trying to soothe him. “Can you tell me your color?” The way he kept coughing and breathing heavily made you start to worry that you went too far. 

He finally calmed down and cleared his throat to speak, looking up at you with teary eyes, his lashes even prettier all wet. “Green… ‘m sorry.” You cooed and brought your hand down to cup his cheek, tilting his head up to face you. 

“I know. I think a little more of this will make us even, hm?” It definitely would not make up for all the times you’ve deepthroated him since you started dating, but it wasn’t really about that. When he nodded, your lips curled up into a small smile and you brushed your thumb over his bottom lip that was still lightly coated in his spit. “Good boy.”

[littlemisssquiggles]

Why did no one tell me about the little “omake” chapters of DandaDan?

I was today years old when I learned the existence of these little extra omake or bonus chapters of Dandadan that expand on what’s going on with some of the other DanDandan characters like the Aira and Evil Eye Jiji one for example.

I thought it quite cute that Evil Eye cared enough about Aira to help her with getting her old friends to start talking to her again. That was actually oddly sweet of him.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the Evil Eye might secretly have a widdle crush on Aira. Doesn’t have to be true. I mean it’s just me spitting here.

But I’d be lying if Evil Eye crushing on Aira is definitely feeding into my thoughts on Aira and Jiji eventually being a couple.

I DO LIKE the Jijira ship. I mean Dandadan got me wracking up new ships to love like Uno cards with each new arc.

Already I’m Team Momokarun - obviously. Otherwise why am I even here if not to suffer at the hands of Yukinobu Tatsu as he proceeds to write the most beautiful shoujo romance love story disguised as a shonen battle anime that the world has ever seen and taking his sweet ass time doing it too. That magnificent romantic bastard.

---

I’m Team Jijira - I just think they’re NEAT okay? Our secondary BAKAS IN LOVE potential couple next to Momokarun.

No seriously, I think these two can actually work really, REALLY well together if Aira would just come to her senses of seeing that Okarun is OBVIOUSLY in love with Momo and NOT her, get over him and redirect her interest to the guy who is actually always by her side more than Okarun. Meaning Jiji.

As for Jiji and where he stands on love and romance. To all the people who keep saying that Jiji is in LOVE with Momo, I raise you one important question? Where? Where is this love you keep insinuating that Jiji has for Momo?

Believe me, I have watched the anime. I have read the manga up to date and all I’ve seen so far is a good boy who just simply cares very deeply for his childhood friend and is very protective of her. Nothing more.

I mean Aira is more obvious with her feelings for Okarun than Jiji is for Momo.

I dunno man. The Momiji ship and its shippers is giving me Zutara from Avatar vibes. Ya’ll up in here painting this magnificent love story between these two characters and telling everybody who would listen about it but when you actually read the ACTUAL canon content, there is nothing to insinuate anything like that at all.

Then again, I might just be biased because even IF Jiji DID in fact have a crush on Momo … that means shit because WE KNOW Jiji will NEVER end up with Momo BECAUSE SHE IS IN LOVE WITH OKARUN AND HE LOVES HER TOO!

Not unless Tat-Tat writes an arc where there’s an alternative universe/ reverse time line type shit where Momo ended up with Jiji instead of Okarun due to weebly wobbly, timey wimey stuff.

And now thanks to Aira omake chapter with the Evil Eye, I have more reasons to believe that Jijira could be a possibility. Either way, my Jijira shipping heart has been fed.

---

I’m Team Vaminta: or Kintola? Whatever the official Vamola x Kinta ship is called. Doesn’t matter. Vamola is (literally) a queen and Kinta is her king. Nuff said!

My goat and baby girl deserve each other!

---

And finally; I’m Team Rinuma - yes, yes, I KNOW Rin and Zuma have yet to actually officially interact in the story but how can I NOT ship them prematurely. The girl with gravity powers making people float and the boy with the umbrella? C’mon it’s like poetry. The ship practically writes itself even if Tat-Tat hasn’t gotten there yet. I see the vision and I’m embracing it while I can; dagnabbit!

---

So yeah, those are my current favourite Dandadan ships. Returning to the omakes, I also enjoyed the Chiquitta one.

Did not know Chiquitta was attending school on Earth. I mean it would make sense since his father is currently working on Earth so that Chiquitta can get all the milk he can get to keep himself healthy and strong. Yeah makes perfect sense actually.

Loved the chapter showing Chiquitta protecting his classmates from older bullies. Like father, like son. Chiquitta got hands man! That’s our favourite kappa son!

Also Chiquitta imitating Jiji of all people when interacting with a girl is insanely cute. Of all the people for Lil Chiqui to copy, why Jiji of all people? Then again, better him that Kenta, am I right?

There’s also speculation now that the little girl that suspects Chiquitta to be an alien is actually related to Okarun.

Like she’s his little sister and that Okarun comes from a large family where possibly some of the background characters we’ve probably overlooked throughout the story may allegedly be related to our favourite Yokai speedster.

Personally I’m down for this theory since it’ll actually confirm Okarun as being from Earth instead of my crazy theory of him secretly being a member of a humanoid alien race who was abandoned on Earth at birth and raised by a human family or someting like that. .

Because we have yet to glimpse into what Okarun’s home life is as yet, it’s got me wondering if Okarun even has a family. I mean surely he has to have a home because in spite being a loner/outcast for most of his school life, Okarun is always well-clothed, well fed and stocked up on occult-related magazines.

So outside of the alien heritage theory, it wouldn’t surprise me if Okarun actually comes from a pretty wealthy family and the reason why he’s always seen ready and flexible to go off on his own without his parents wondering about his whereabouts is probably because Okarun’s parents/caretakers are probably living a life where they’re never home with him.

Perhaps Okarun’s parents work overseas and the reason for Okarun’s deep fascination with the occult is cause its related to his parents’ occupation.

Maybe his parents are archaeologists or astrologists or a pair of people who study these kind of things and often have to travel abroad for long periods of time while Okarun is left alone; unable to accompany them due to him attending school in Japan.

I mean, it would make sense why we haven’t seen them as yet in the story. To me, Okarun living alone because his parents work overseas sounds more plausible than them secretly being alien.

Perhaps the little girl who suspects Chiquitta of being an alien doesn’t necessarily have to be someone related to Okarun. Perhaps she’s his neighbour or something. Or maybe she doesn’t even know Okarun and is just someone related to Chiquitta’s side of the story.

On the subject of aliens, it would actually be pretty funny if Okarun’s parents were another pair of refugee aliens who have been living on Earth for years and thus Okarun is secretly an alien who was born and raised on Earth.

Like his parents brought him up on the occult to desensitize him to the existence of the alien race. Their race; although they never revealed the truth of their alien lineage to Okarun, wanting him to grow up believing himself to be just a “normal human boy on Earth” when he actually isn't.

I mean that’s another theory for the pool of possibilities.

If Okarun parents are indeed secretly aliens then imagine them being Ken Takakura fans as much as Momo is because his movies were the first thing they were exposed to once they came to Earth and thus they decided to take the surname of Takakura and named their Earth-born “alien” son, Okarun after him.

It would honestly be insane if there comes a time when Momo gets to meet Okarun’s parents and the first thing they bond over is their shared love for Ken Takakura.

That would actually be insanely cute.

Overall, these are just little headcanons. For all I know, there’s probably no twist to Okarun at all.

He could really just be a regular guy who, despite everything that life had thrown at him, lucked out and found the love of his life and the literal girl of his dreams when she just happened to be passing by on a bad day and noticed him for the first time.

That really could be just it.

Then again; who really knows.

We really have to see what Tat-Tat has cooking up in that noggin of his for this ongoing love story he's made.

The most I will say is that the longer the story drags on with us readers never seeing or knowing anything about Okarun’s homelife, the more this squiggle meister will start to believe that he’s secretly an alien until it’s debunked by the actual story.

~LMS (2025)

[nightghoulz]

Headcanons for the Primarchs and tattoos

I’ve wanted to do this for a bit! Some are stereotypical. Some are my guesswork if it’s characters I don’t know as much on. :’)

Lion El’Jonson: oh fuck every time this guy comes up I’m clueless. Like I just know he’s secretive. I’m sorry to the big Lion fans. I either want to be funny and say he has a lion/clock/rose thing or somewhat serious and say a star map of some sort. Or something with a hidden meaning. Someone else can probably give him something better than I can lol.

Fulgrim: His wing pauldron thing is on him in some way, folded over his shoulder. Also has a snake somewhere on him, arm or a leg. Maybe both! He also gets the same tat as my OC so laurel wreath on his collarbones. Fulgrim also has a matching tattoo with Ferrus. It’s something smaller, like a little heart or smiley face on an ankle or wrist. His are all perfectly done with a ton of love put into them.

Perturabo: I don’t know him as well, but he probably has something for Calliphone. A flower or something more ‘delicate’ hidden on his chest so no one else sees it. Has those cool cybernetic sleeve things. I’d want to say the ruler tattoo on his thumb as well, but Dorn has that same one so they can argue over who was first.

Jaghatai Khan: Totally has a super decked out sleeve with all his legion symbols and meaningful things to him. Also probably has American traditional and/or wabori (or anything more bold like that) just for the fun of it.

Leman Russ: Huge wolf back piece I’m so sorry. But it’s really well done. I like making fun of him. Also has those Nordic runes on him. Maybe a moon as well but a certain someone else will get that too.

Rogal Dorn: I think he’d be really into it. I’m not sure if tattoos hurt primarchs, but this could be like his pain glove but more artistic. Someone talked him into it at some point and it stuck. I see him having sentimental things for the family that raised him as well as his legion. Also has some blueprints or functional thing. Has the same ruler tattoo as Perty which causes fights. I think it would be awesome if he’s just covered in them near the end.

Konrad Curze: oh no. I could make fun of him so much but he’s free (for now). I don’t think it’d be a huge focus for him, he has much bigger issues, but he’d have his legions symbol (skull with bat wings) on his chest, just like his armor. Probably has a few more things in the macabre style to cover up anything he’s impulsively done to himself cause idk what happens in those visions. Also they look cool as fuck so it’s cool for the sake of cool.

Sanguinius: Laurel wreath carefully by the base of his wings. Detailed tattoos that look almost like pretty jewelry draped over his shoulders. Everything is symmetrical. And since I heard he took the time to meet every one of his sons, he gladly shares a more symbolic thing with them. Also wondering if his blood would spread his gene flaw around lol (probably not but whatever) so every time it’s super sanitized.

Ferrus Manus: Dude has some cool hands that can change shape so I’ve decided that he can also make them have engravings. So he gets some cool engravings on his forearms/hands that are basically metal tattoos. As for the rest of him, there’s some callbacks to his favorite projects. Probably has a dagger or hammer or something on his back. Matching little heart or smiley with Fulgrim of course.

Angron: Are his red markings on his face tattooed on? I think they are painted but it would be cool if they were tattooed. As well as other marks like them on the rest of him. If he has a more artistic thing, it’s that stereotypical skull and smoke and knives sleeve that every character that serves gets lol. Maybe it would be a distraction from the nails.

Roboute Guilliman: He also has the laurel wreaths since I never ever see him without them. They get to be a tramp stamp since that’s fun. He’s too busy for a lot of this. Has the Latin/high gothic ribbons on him, also probably his collarbones and symmetrical. If any of his sons are bald enough, maybe they get the laurels on the sides of their heads (totally stealing that for a character later) as another badge of honor.

Mortarion: still don’t know him as well so perhaps I’ll just be stereotypical again and give him a bunch of skulls and stuff. Since he’s a smartie too, he has those things tied in as well. Like what plants kill people in a bundle. Maybe those snapdragons that look like emo skulls.

Magnus the Red: nerd ha ha. Okay for realsies, he has cool sorcerer spell stuff on him. And then some in the style of ancient Egyptian art (think hieroglyphics) that you’d see on monuments and tombs. He’s like a monument himself tbh. They look almost like jewelry at points.

Horus Lupercal: This is the astrology dude that has the moon phase tramp stamp or stereotypical spine moon one. His Mournival all some some variation of this too lol. Aside from that, like Lion, has star maps on his skin. Maybe they are subtle. They track his journey through the Great Crusade. Imagine tracing the paths between them (maybe I’ll have to write my first fic later uhhh whoops Ive given myself an idea!)

Lorgar Aurelian: dude is already decked out. There’s no space. He went bald for more space. If he does have space, he gets the gold laurels somewhere too.

Vulkan: bones. Either the dragon skull on his shoulder or something else, but it’s like a whole dig site. Also has flames going up his forearms and they seem to magically glow.

Corvus Corax: emo raven ha ha. But for real, everything with him is some poetic reference. He has a raven, but what is it holding or where is it looking? Towards East where the sun rises for fresh starts? What do the symbols on his arms mean?

Alpharius/Omegon: the tattoos seem to never stay the same. There’s always some slight difference, almost like it’s more than one person…. A line is slightly more jagged on the serpent monster up the arm.

Okay that took me an hour and I’m left with a bunch of ideas now.

[intuitively-her]

First energy I'm picking up on somebody that you recently cut off or you need to. This could be someone apart of your friend group. I feel like you were put into a situation with this person that made you realize that they aren't really down for you like you thought. You made the right decision cutting them off. They are a straight up user and opportunist. Now they're pissed because they can no longer eat off your plate. They are now forced to watch you be happy from afar.

Second energy This is someone that works in the same field as you. I feel like most of you know who this is. This person tries to one-up everything you do. They might even try to dress better than you. This energy is SO immature lol. It feels very petty and tit for tat. My advice is to just ignore them. Don't give them any type of reaction because that's exactly what they want. For some of you, this person will try to extend an "olive branch" and act like they want to help you with something. DO NOT accept anything from them. They want to sabotage what you have going on.

Message from spirit📞 Stop worrying/overthinking so much about this situation. We are protecting you all the way through. Put your focus back into what matters most as you go through this transition.

Main energy This is a family member or lover. This could also be a sibling or parent maybe? I feel like y'all aren't as close as used to be. You could feel like you're outgrowing this person. They feel very rejected by you right now. This person has shown you time and time again that they are unreliable. They are jealous the love and praise that you receive from others.

Message from spirit📞 Allow this relationship to fall. You know this person cannot come with you.

First energy I'm getting strong 3rd party vibes. There is someone that feels like you have what's theirs or vice versa. I keep hearing "he/she's mine!" This is making me think of that movie "Obsession". Go watch that. Someone here recently found out that “their person” is dealing with someone else and they are PISSED.😭 This is "the other woman/man." They are mad that they no longer have access to your person. Especially if your person has money and likes to spoil/take care of you. I feel like your person was juggling you and this other individual in the past, or maybe they dated them once and things didn't work out. Regardless, this other woman/man is mad because your person chose to be with you instead. Don't pay this person any mind lol.

Second energy This is your ex. This person is lurking harddd on your socials. You've probably been noticing hella fake pages popping up on your feed, and it's definitely them. If you've started dating again or talking to someone new, they are mad as hell.🤣

Message from spirit📞 You need to do some self-reflection. Heal from the things that once hurt you. Figure out what you love about yourself/ what you'd like to change. Do more of what makes you happy. Cut out distractions and meditate for a clearer outlook.

*ONLY TAKE WHAT RESONATES*

💖Please DO NOT copy, repost, or steal my work. Thanks!💖

[reiden]

talking nonsense | h.iwaizumi

You and Iwaizumi discuss his most recent piercing. And he's a little bit in love with you.

cw: 18+, gn!reader, suggestive, pining

— ✦

You keep your hands pressed firmly against the paper, coated in some kind of unknown substance Iwaizumi is not artsy enough to identify. It covers your hands and the shade of pink you've decided to paint your nails for the week, appearing in splotches up your wrist and ending midway on your forearms. Somehow, none of it gets on the sweater you're wearing. 

His sweater — the one he purposefully left behind for you, not that you know. In your eyes, Iwaizumi is just a bit forgetful and if his clothes are in your home then it's fair game to be worn by you. Finders, borrowers; he wouldn't mind if you chose to keep it, though. His clothes always look better on you than they do on him. 

You bounce a bit, putting extra pressure onto the paper beneath your palms. Your shorts ride up the expanse of your thigh, creasing and bunching by your hip, and the heat that licks up Iwaizumi's spine has him just barely biting back a curse. He's not just here to admire — though he finds himself doing so regardless when it comes to you — he's here for an opinion. 

"You don't think it's too much?" he asks, tilting his head to the side so you can see clearer. The simple silver hoop hanging from his ear. You groan and he clicks his tongue.

He watches you lean back, letting go of your paper mâché creation to lean against the foot of your emerald green couch (bought at a yard sale by you; picked up and moved in by Iwaizumi). "For the last time Haji, if I really thought it was too much I would have told you already." Your lips quirk to the side as you huff out a laugh, "Plus, it's one earring — hardly anything to scoff at."

Iwaizumi clicks his tongue, narrowing his eyes, "What? You want me to get all tatted up? Piercings everywhere?" He says it sarcastically; you pick up on it but you're tilting your head to the side as though you're seriously considering it. Your gaze warms his cheeks and leaves his mouth feeling dry.

"I think you'd suit a tattoo or two," you hum, turning back to your project. You bring your hand up and make a half-hearted attempt at scratching your cheek, smearing some of the paste against your skin. "Another earring — a helix this time." You bend forward, getting closer to your creation with scrutiny in your eyes. Iwaizumi tries not to let his gaze linger, all but whipping his head to the side to stop himself from tracing the dip of your spine under your (his) sweater. 

He fails, unable to turn away completely. Some rational part of him reminds him that you're his best friend — one of the few people he's managed to get really close to in this new environment and new university — but he eyes you through his peripheral anyway. Your shorts ride up further. Iwaizumi digs his nails into his palms and shifts around in his seat. 

And then, you're looking up suddenly, meeting his stare with an intensity that leaves him feeling glued to the chair he's sitting on. He laughs, wedges some humour into his words, "Think we should slow down." You're smiling, plump lips — soft lips, he's sure of it — parting to just a sliver of your teeth. 

"Just think about it," you say, pausing your poking and prodding at your project. "I can think of some other piercings you could rock." It's a quick mumble, followed by the split-second drop of your eyes past the tense line of his jaw, past his shoulders, past his hips. What you're insinuating is not lost on him, but it does take him by surprise.

Iwaizumi draws in a sharp breath. You refocus your attention on your project. 

"In case you ever wanted any recommendations," you tack on, words just a touch above a whisper.

He can't figure you out. Or perhaps, he has and the realisation hasn't quite dawned on him yet. It will — when he's gone back to his own apartment and he's sitting on his own couch, he'll finally put two and two together. Iwaizumi hopes that by then, he'll have worked up the courage to do something about it.

In all honesty, it's taking every bit of restraint left in him to keep himself planted on this chair, far from you and those damn shorts and his damn sweater. He wants to tell you he loves you, and then maybe fuck you right into that emerald green couch he helped you haul into your apartment a few months ago. Instead, he says, "You seem like you've given this a lot of thought."

"Obviously," you answer without a shred of hesitation. "I'm always thinking about you, Hajime."

There is one thing Iwaizumi Hajime can be certain of and it's that you will absolutely be the death of him.

[cattordi]

3. the new neighbor 🥥

a/n 𓇼 i’m writing these chapters a lot faster than expected 😫 but the obx drama has ben fed and obsessed w rafe so enjoy. also my links aren’t working therefore i cant update my masterlist

summary 𓇼 after returning to the obx, you rent the cameron’s guest house; forcing you into close proximity with your ex boyfriend— rafe.

pairings 𓇼 pogue!reader x exbf!rafecameron

warnings 𓇼 angst, annoying guys, ward, weed

˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹 ⁺｡° ˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹 ⁺｡° ˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹

the three word sentence rafe says isn’t what you expected to hear. those words aren’t anything you’ve heard him say.

at least to you.

you close the door slowly, tears welling in your eyes. as you turn away, a voice startles you.

“he doesn’t mean it.” you turn to see ward, rafe’s dad. he has a slight amused look on his face.

“yeah.. sure.” you say as you begin down the stairs.

your relationship with ward was never good. he never liked you due to your background, and he only dealt with you because of rafe. though his relationship wasn’t good with rafe either.

“he still loves you.” he begins, “to much in my opinion, but” he shrugs, “if you’re what my son wants.”

huffing you ask, “did you just let me stay here so you could talk down on me?”

ward shrugs and walks past you, going down the stairs, “rafe could do better. i’m sure you know that, so i want you to see him do better…. be with someone better actually.”

you’re speechless as he continues down the stairs and into his study.

𓇼

the next morning rafe wakes up, hungover. his head is thumping as his blinds reveal the bright sun outside, but his mind goes directly to you.

specifically what he said to you.

quickly, he gets out of bed, almost throwing up in the process from all the alcohol.

rafe rushes downstairs before asking, “where’s y/n?” wheezie and rose shrug before sarah says, “oh, she went into town early this morning. why?”

“nothing.” he curses, “where’s dad?”

they all shrug, which pisses rafe off, “thanks for the fucking help.” he says before slamming the back door closed and going outside.

outburst from rafe weren’t unusual or out of the blue, but this one just didn’t make sense. he’d made it known to everyone in kildare that he was completely over you, and wanted to be as far away from you as humanly possible.

but gets upset when you’re not around.

angrily, rafe marches over to the dock, pulling a container out from under a patch of sand. opening it reveals five already rolled joints and a lighter.

𓇼

“i don’t think he could ever hate you.” kie says before throwing back a shot. you and kie are at a bar in figure 8, after she begged you to come out and get a taste of the men you’d “never noticed” before because you were all “up on rafe”.

“yeah he could,” you begin,” and also that kinda contradicts why we’re here.”

“well i’ve given up since you won’t talk to anyone. i suggested wyatt,” kie starts and points to a tall, blonde sitting at the bar. he’s covered in tats, and has long hair.

“and landon,” she continues and points to another tall man. he’s brown-skinned and has waves but he’s talking to another girl.

“and even preston.” she finishes and you look over to see preston. he’s on the shorter side, leaning towards 5’10 unlike the last two who were well over 6’2. he has dark brown hair which is buzzed. you had to admit he was pretty hot.

“fine” you give in, “i’ll talk to…..preston.”

kie smiles, “okay okay. i’ll sit here. you go flirt, and then come back and tell me everything.”

“okay” you mummer and walk towards him. you’re wearing jean shorts and corset top, which shows off a lot of cleavage.

he’s looking down at his phone when you walk up to him, his friends are around him drinking beers, laughing, and making unattractive faces at the poor girls walking by.

“hey!” you say as nicely as humanly possible, “i’m y/n. i saw you from across the bar and i just wanted to see if i could get your number or something. if not that’s fi-“

“sure, why not?” preston says and holds his hand out for your phone. suprised, you hand him your phone.

he types his number in quickly, “so y/n, i haven’t seen you in figure 8 before. are you a pogue or did you just move here?”

“i’m from here actually. i moved a few years ago and just came back.”

“hm.. why?”

“why’d i move or why’d i come back?”

“why to both.”

“i moved because i needed to get away from anything, or in my case anyone, who kept me from moving forward. and i came back becau-“

“who was it?”

“you don’t know him” this was a lie. everyone knew rafe.

“i’m sure i do. shoot.”

“no you don’t, honestly.”

“i probably do. just tell-“

“she already fucking said you didn’t know so give it a break.” a deep voice says from behind you and you already know who it is.

we both turn to see rafe. he’s wearing a long sleeve henley and dark wash jeans.

“come with me y/n.”

“what’re you doing here rafe?” you’re slightly annoyed yet slightly relieved because your conversation with preston was going nowhere.

“y/n. come with me.”

“no rafe.”

out of the corner of my eye, i can see kie approaching us.

“i said come with me y/n.” rafe is clearly fuming and you can tell he’s gonna snap.

“dude she said no.” preston says and you admittedly regret him saying that because in a blink of an eye, he’s off his barstool and on the floor due to rafe punching him.

the bar goes silent until one of prestons friends yells “what the fuck dude?”

“kie,ill be right back and preston i am so sorry .” you say angrily and grab rafes hand, pulling him out the bar.

once you’re both out on the sidewalk you shout, “what the fuck is your issue rafe? how’d you even know i was here?”

“kelce texted me saying he saw you here so i asked him to watch you.”

“you sound fucking insane rafe. we aren’t together. you fucking said you hated me.” you start and turn to walk away.

“where are you going?”

“away from you!”

as you walk, rafes hand snakes around uou, turning you to face him. “you drive me insane y/n.” rafe groans and smashes his lips into yours.

[therealslimshakespeare]

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Requested: yes…Virgin!Gale + Maureen/Gale bonding

Universe: Friends in the Crucible (pacific au)

Summary: “Get laid, Buck.” Doc Egan prescribed with his peculiar brand of deathly serious compassion, “Hell, I’ll write you a prescription for it, if it soothes your conscience, but I’m serious. Serve your jitters better than any syrette or Amphetamine.”

Warnings: all the sex! 18+.|| both tender and feral || Doc Egan being a unorthodox but loving menace, a theme of ptsd and body tremors/insomnia -poor Gale is going through it after a whole war, drug mentions, erectile disfunction, Maureen is aggressive but everything’s consensual, usage of the word “Jap”. Graphic descriptions of Gale’s virginity loss, male overstimulation and an amusing amount of thought given to Bucky’s existence during the act … im sure that won’t lead to anything when Maureen returns to base and reports to Egan about it, right? Hahaha of course not, that would be craaazy

Word count: 10k

“Buck, come on now, it’s not a prison sentence, it’s just a little time off.”

“I don’t need time off.” Gale reiterated, a panicked sort of fierceness creeping into his tone as his appeal now stretched into something longer than the usual flippant favors Egan was customarily so eager to dole out.

“Those hands suggest ya do.” John gave a not unkind glance of sympathy at the twitching fingers rattling on the armrests of Cleven’s chair.

12 rescue missions in 15 days. Flying upwards of ten hours each. He’d done worse before, but then again, that had been when he was fresh, younger, less banged up from the head hitting the cockpit wall.

“Sending me to go watch flamingos and contemplate sand or some shit isn’t gonna make me steadier.” Gale very much feared his gripes were beginning to sound like begs, “Don’t send me off like this. Don’t.”

“Petrified of flamingos?” John hummed, glancing down at his chart as if contemplating making a note of this new malady, “Maybe if your dad had taken you to a zoo once or twice as a kid you’d not be scared stiff of the prospect.”

Cleven stared back at him with the most hurt eyes John had ever seen. He balled his own fist up to remember the rightness of his point, even if he’d delivered it about as clumsily as a marriage proposal at a funeral. “The hell would you say something like that?” Buck whispered, not even angry, just utterly lost.

“Buck, I’m just sayin’ -inability to slow or be alone, it’s classic symptoms of battle fatigue.”

“I don’t wanna sit on a beach when I could be helping, I’m perfectly capable of still helping! You know it!”

“But you can’t sleep.” John circled back to where this all began, with Gale asking if there was anything to knock a fella out when 82 hours of insomnia wasn’t sufficiently exhausting.

“Give me something, you’re a doctor! Goddamnit, John!” Gale finally broke, voice raising and fists clenched.

“Surgeon, technically.” John gave him a wane smile, “And I can’t dope up an active pilot.”

“Just an active surgeon.” Gale sneered, tit for tat on the insults.

John nodded grimly but murmured, “The day Gale Cleven becomes John Egan is a day this whole operation can pack up and go home.”

“So you're being the better man,” Gale scoffed, “-sending me to watch flamingos.”

“I’m not givin’ you shit.“ he confirmed, “Unless it’s an assignment.”

“Will it keep me outta the flak asylum?”

“If you comply to all the regulations, maybe.” Egan shrugged.

“Go on?”

“Get laid, Buck.” his friend prescribed with his peculiar brand of deathly serious compassion, “Hell, I’ll write you a prescription for it, if it soothes your conscience, but I’m serious. Serve you better than any syrette or Amphetamine.”

“That’s your ultimatum?”

“No, no, my ultimatum is that you go on a little sabbatical with one of my nurses, she’ll keep an eye on you and you can make yourself useful, helping her unload heavy shit at the aid station they’re setting up at Peleliu. My recommendation is that when she comes into your room at the end of the day and drops her knickers, you lay back and think of Wyoming.”

Major Cleven had thought of a million and one ways to bribe or ally the prospective nurse to his side of the deal once he knew which unfortunate female Egan was going to pick for this deplorable detail. Calling his friend a pimp and a bastard had done little good, threatening malpractice and a hardness of heart towards Gale’s own principles -even less. So Gale figured when the time came he’d just gently turn the well meaning comfort gal away and maybe pay her off to lie that they’d done it: for his hand’s sake.

After all, if she was willing to do this, was she even a nurse or was she someone Bucky dressed up in Red Cross arm bands like some sleazy fantasy? Gale didn’t think any of the nurses he’d encountered would be willing to go along with such a sordid “assignment.” Sure, some of them were -carefree. Indulgent. Easy, as the men sometimes called them before getting a stinging cheek that proved them wrong. But they were a proud bunch and they had earned it.

Rolling a toothpick in his cheek, Buck pondered these things while sat on the bench of a Goony Bird waiting for his nurse to hop into the cargo hold with him and off they’d go to Pelilu. The situation was made worse by the suspense of who it might be and the insulting foreignness of being on a plane but not piloting. It made Gale feel an odd sort of feeling close to self pity that he hadn’t felt in ages, not since he was a kid and the nostalgia of it wrung him out of all energy. He made himself sit on that metal bench motionless as the heat index rose on the tarmac and made up a fun little game involving trying to see if he could get his hands to stop tremoring for five seconds straight.

So far he’d lost his own wager each time. He told himself if he could make it to five seconds then the nurse Bucky had sent would be a gray haired matron and this really was just a sabbatical to lift boxes and breathe ocean air and get Gale to laugh at himself.

Then Maureen Kendeigh climbed into the hold and squeezed past their cargo of medicine crates and plopped down right next to him, leg bumping his and breathing like a race horse. “I have jogged here the entire way from administration.” she wheezed, tugging at the collar of her shirt where her glistening throat was bobbing in thirst. “Sorry I’m so late, Major. Am I late?”

It could have been Bucky sat next to him: the choice of phrasing was so familiar, the damnable ability to force forgiveness for tardiness with a single smile so predictable. Gale found dread knotting his stomach at the realization it would be her, even as a warmth spread all over him at her sweet presence that had the odd effect of steadying his hands despite the panicked fuzz of his brain at her proximity.

Oh he didn’t want this. No, no, no. He’d like to think of Maureen very much apart, apart from anything but her heroism, not her wide spread stance on the bench beside him or the idea of her dropping her knickers and making him think of Wyoming. He preferred her very much not attainable in the deeper ways and very much not what he saw himself with when all this was over. Whatever she and Doc Egan had was between them and he’d held it up like a shield to keep himself in check, a boy's code of honor about not encroaching on his friend’s girl. Even if said friend didn’t have the decency to make said girl “his” girl.

But to have Maureen dished up to him on a platter by John when John must have suspected some of Gale’s appreciation for her professional merits -it was somehow worse than any dressed up floozy or the easy new intern. He’d not be able to pay Maureen off without insulting her. Or outing Egan’s intent. Maybe she didn’t know. What if Gale spilled the beans and she was as harmless as himself? What if—

“God, Major, did you sleep at all?” Maureen’s steady fingers were gripping his expressionless face and suddenly turned him towards her, one thumb swiping a tender crescent in his under eyes.

Gale’s eyes seemed to forget blinking was a thing, they grew wide and stayed wide at her inspection and the sandy wind blowing in from the tarmac stung at them as they dried out. “No,” he found his voice and it came out more winded than hers, “you’re not late.” he lied.

Once they get to the island, touchdown and unload, there’s then three hours of driving around the pitted old warzone to the aid station. There’s more foliage the more they go, less mortar pitted earth, but the increasing tropical paradise surroundings put Gale on edge. Maureen drives them to their unexplored destination as confident and recklessly as Bucky would, little surprise there. Gale can’t help glancing at her with unabashed amusement for the way she keeps her pistol propped on top of the steering wheel with one grip, facing out like a top turret for their hood, while keeping the map balanced on her thigh.

He cradles his own BAR with loose arms, ready to use it. Sure they secured the island months ago, but still, not infrequently some Jap comes out of his hiding hole, a cave, or whatever fucking tree he resides in and surrenders. Or, conversely, some of them have charged with guns blazing or sword drawn, deciding to go out and a bang of glory and take with them whichever hapless American happens to be nearby. That Emperor worship shit ain’t happening on on Gale’s watch, and so Maureen gets to drive -she didn’t have to beg like that, he was going to let her- and he shoulders the duty of keeping his eyes peeled for the next bush becoming animate and running at them, pulled pin grenade in hand.

“Some relaxation.” he jokes as their jeep lurches into another crater. If it’s not the bomb pits it’s the massive roots crawling over the smashed earth the Marine Corps call a road.

“It’s a reverse strategy!” she informs, grin wide as a shark’s and Gale could almost draw a little pencil mustache above that top lip and pretend it’s Bucky torturing him thus -hey, that might be a good mode of thought to keep everything strictly professional- “Like when nothing else works, you kick the broken thing.” Gale politely ignores the urge to argue about being broken, that’s not her point… he hopes, “You’re all shook up,” she goes on, voice raised to be heard over the rev of her driving, “and calm hasn’t worked, so why not shake you up worse?!”

He squints at her, fully aware he isn’t being chummy like she is trying to be, knowing he’s being a stick in the mud but he’s dying under the uncertainty, chafing under the pretense. Does she know? Or does she not? Five times today he’s resisted the urge to slap her chest like he would Demarco’s and ask her levelly, man to man, if she knows. “If this doesn’t work then what?” he asks anyway, sober as hell despite the comedic jostling and even Maureen’s joviality dims in the face of his dour mood.

“Then we’ll have to get real unorthodox.” she replies, allowing something close to annoyance at his attitude to seep into her own expression and Gale refuses to pull his eyes off her.

Do you know? He wants to ask.

“Stop scowling at me and watch for Japs.” she snaps at him so suddenly and so heated he genuinely spooks and turns his body back towards their horizon.

It’s worse than he thought. Worse than he imagined on the times he lost the bet with his hands and let his mind go somewhere besides a practical joke from Bucky and a gray haired spinster nurse as his companion. The aid station is on the edge of the new camp, far off enough to be genuinely secluded from both sights and smells of the navy station. It’s a tiki hut, thatched roof and swinging mesh door and lovely little veranda and palm trees and waves lapping up the back steps.

It looks like the sorta place people advertise for honeymoons and Gale stares at it with a 100 yard stare once Maureen grinds the gears to park.

“Jesus.” he knows his mouth is curling in disgust and beside him Maureen huffs in disgust with him.

She jumps out of her side of the jeep, not a shred of amusement left on her face. Gale sits and stares and listens to the roar of surf and the clinking of the cooling engine.

“Not bad.” she grunts under the burden of a crate which Gale should be lifting if he could just make his legs work and his mind obey. “But I bet it’s gonna be a bitch to keep the gnats out though, so much foliage around.”

Her hips sway like a tantalizing pendulum when she jogs up the bungalow stairs, her waist somehow accentuated by the way her arms are lifted to keep the crate hoisted on her strong shoulder and Gale has the perfect seat to watch it. How did he never notice the lines on her before she was doing hard labor? Then he recalls, she’s mostly been in flight suits around him, he’s never seen her paired down to collared shirts and belted pants. How’d he never notice the lines on that gi-

“Don’t make me drive this thing in the surf to wake you up.” her slap on his listless forearm rouses him to realize she’s back out at the jeep, standing beside him looking at him as he sits here catatonic like the mental case he’s showing symptoms of being. “And take your jacket off, you’re gonna get overheated being so formal.”

“Are you in on it?” he snaps suddenly as she grins at him over his first crate. He can’t tell if she’s mocking him or not but he’s damn tired of it.

“In on what?” Her face falls.

He can’t do it. He just can’t do it and he hates himself for being such a coward. “This.” he chooses vagueness and it tastes foreign and awful on his tongue.

“It’s a week out of the cockpit in paradise, Cleven,” Maureen’s own expression holds back no disdain for his pissy attitude, “man the hell up.”

What Maureen, Gale and five other technicians had loaded into the jeep and it’s buggy in the course of two hours, takes the mere two of them close to four to unload. And that’s even with Gale keeping a rapid pace to his work like a sweating maniac, feverishly wanting to stop thinking for once. His jacket and shirt are thrown over the chairs that are actually provided as furniture in the place and Maureen’s tie lays discarded on the accompanying desk. The rooms are bare but there’s two beds in the bedroom with crisp sheets that have only a bit of pollen dusting them and there’s a desk, as mentioned, three chairs in the main room and Maureen insists they can use crates for a table.

The back room is for the actual medical aid, and Maureen insists nothing gets moved into it until she can sanitize the whole place. So they stack the boxes in the main room and in the bedroom and when the sun gets lower they’re relieved to find there’s some dubious provisions for electricity in the place.

“I can get it to work.” Gale decides as Maureen tries flicking the light switch ten times as if to see if the bare bulb will grow a will of its own and turn on for her. It reminds him so much of Bucky’s brand of idiocy that Gale almost forgets himself and reaches out to swat her hand away from the futile flicking.

“Ok, then you do that while I keep unloading.” she insists, “Won’t be able to do anything if it’s pitch dark in here.”

So Gale drags a chair over and begins to fiddle with the wires tacked to the ceiling, risking electrocution so Maureen Kendeigh can see her way around as she tromps past him again and again in the same path with yet another crate.

He’s good with his hands. Excellent, in fact, judging by how one bulb flickers then stays steady, then another and another until the inside of the bungalow is aglow with cozy light: enough light for Maureen to appreciate his sweat soaked singlet and the way it rides up his belly when his arms are up and how it’s bright enough for her to scrub the exam room effectively when laying in a room with an insomniatic Gale Cleven gets to her at 3:00 am.

As it surely will. God! -the man is as impossible as he is beautiful, and while she doubted she’d manage it with him before, the sheer amount of fury she feels towards him right now leaves no doubt. She’ll shake him up. Like a Fuckin’ Martini. And he doesn’t have to like it, probably won’t, but they’ll both feel better after. “In on it” -he’s got the gall to ask but not the balls to spell it out, she can’t abide a quasi gentleman and so far Gale Cleven’s been nothing but the genuine article. Until now, now when he can’t accept certain human things about himself like fatigue or attraction, and he takes it out on her with a sullenness belonging to a much older man.

Maureen’s fine with that, she thinks as ogles the glowing golden skin of his sheened shoulders on one of her passes with a crate, she can take her mad out on him, too. And she’s got a lot of it. More than John Egan was ever able to lick away.

By 15:00, and some change to the second hand, Gale Cleven was still awake. Little surprise there, not to him, but even though it didn’t matter he found himself thoroughly annoyed and taking it out with a lethal glare at the vague gray ceiling, lit by a massive moon over the ocean. Wire and chairs but no curtains -an oversight about the furnishings. It wouldn’t have mattered, he knew that, and still the racket Maureen was making put his teeth on edge. It wasn’t Benny’s snoring or John’s drunken mumbling but it was a consistent *swoosh, swish* of industry that had Gale feeling a mixture of guilt and determination to keep lying here while she scrubbed.

It had not occurred to him she might’ve needed this break, too. Such as it was, effective as it was not proving. He knew she’d seen some combat in the beginning at Manila, maybe even worse than Iwo but long hours doing what she was doing now, where she was doing it, was no joke.

The urge to get up and help her was strong but then, so was the crippling fear of being around her in the dead of night and inviting any more of the bossy familiarity she’d tucked him into bed with. A magnesium capsule! She’d made him take three of the maternity horse pills and told him to calm the hell down as if he didn't have ample reason to be on edge with her laying a foot away on another bed, stripped down to her cotton slip. Of course Gale would cite war horrors if anyone asked why he couldn’t sleep but to be frank, he wasn’t sure why he wasn’t managing it these days and it had started awhile ago. Before Maureen Kendeigh glowed sweaty and luminous in the moonlight while gripping his cheeks and puckering his protesting mouth and plopping pills on his lolling tongue.

Thinking of it made his face flame with embarrassment for such a childish resistance. But god, her nursley familiarity sent a cross signal to his brain each time she helped herself to his flesh and no amount of berating himself while sweating in these rough sheets could dislodge the reaction. Closer to fifteen hundred than was remotely chivalrous, Gale threw off his sweat soaked bedding and tromped into the glow of light outside their bedroom, shuffling blearily into the little exam room. He faltered for a brief ten seconds at the doorway watching her undulating movements with sponge in hand and knees on the floor, white slip clinging like a second skin from the sweat.

He felt the sudden medical urge to lick her like the cattle back home lick at the salt block, a strange way of quenching thirst. Was ninety two hours without sleep considered genuine grounds for insanity? He felt like maybe he should be keeping a diary of these fevered thoughts to report back to John and see if he needed to get turned in. This wasn’t horniness, this was salt cravings. Yeah, yeah that’s what it was.

“You hypocrite.” he felt emboldened to tease and his voice came out rough and lower than even he expected, the disuse of laying there for ages taking a toll.

Maureen looked up like she’d been spooked herself, a slip and stall of her scrubbing, hair hanging about her face so unprofessionally he realized he’d never seen it in such…disarray. “Oh, the baby’s awake.” she grinned back and he felt an indulgence settle in his gut for her he didn’t know existed, “I see my magnesium capsules were a cure all.”

“Oh yeah, knock a horse out.” he agreed derisively.

“Your eyes are droopier.” she found a silver lining and as if reminded of the grit in them, his large fists came up and rubbed them meanly.

Like a little boy, she thought, watching him in the harsh light of the bare bulb, warm wood all around him the same color as all that sweaty skin and those skivvies hanging onto the lithest set of hips she may have ever seen. Looked as if one deep breath of that lean belly and the fabric would be goners, slipping down to the floor dramatically like a woman’s pantyhose in those unfortunate comics where that’s always occurring just when she wants to cross a busy street. Maybe if she could make him belly laugh-

She wished she knew how. She wondered if he knew how.

“Got another Sponge?” he asked and she was reminded why she liked him so much.

“Top crate, there, left, there that one.” She directed him with jerks of her chin until he was at the right one, “I’m using antiseptic.” she warned.

“I know,” he answered, dropping to his knees beside her and making use of her bucket to dunk his sponge, “smell’s been givin’ me a headache.”

Maureen’s mouth twitched at his tired grumpiness, more endearing now he was still putting effort into being near the caustic shit and the way his golden hair flopped on his forehead with his scrubbing movements. If his hips were that fluid, that rhythmic in cleaning a floor, how much more could she teach him to be—“Yeah, I’m sure it’s the anti-septic giving you a headache.” she snarked.

They ate sandwiches he’d gotten from the navy camp’s mess on the back porch, letting the sea water lap at their feet. A little stale but it was a much needed breakfast and Gale brought fresh water back, too, and a report that they were nice fellas and entirely too undressed for her to ever go see. That suited her fine, they’d be a pest if they knew a woman was up here and personally speaking she only needed one man for company, crate lifting, and doing the job well. And she rather had her heart set on it being Gale Cleven. Especially now she got to stare at him under the bright morning sun with a tropical breeze and more skin on display than at a swimsuit contest. He’d put on a singlet, as if to mark that a day had begun even if they hadn’t slept the night, but that was promptly sweat soaked and tiny nipples were pebbling under it from the breeze.

“Did they ask if a nurse came with you?” she pressed him between bites.

“Yeah.” he swallowed his bite thickly and licked at the mayo collecting at the corner of his mouth with typical precision, “And I lied.”

“Well, well,” she cooed, making him roll his eyes, “how’d that feel?”

“I have lied before.” he balked.

The look he gave her was both thunderous and remincent and she repented that line of questioning, used to distinguishing in her patients whether a wound was from wartime or stemmed from childhood. “Well who’d you say came with?” she asked.

“A technician.” he mumbled, blushing for some reason.

“Mm, someone nice and hairy and stinky-“

“Stop.” he begged.

“-not anyone they’d wanna meet.”

“I did it for you!”

“-if that makes you sleep at night, Cleven.” she humored him and like lightning, the back of his hand had flicked out and thumped her on the sternum, hard.

“Shit!” Maureen clutched the place, more in surprise than pain although he’d walloped her good and well.

“Shit!” He parroted in mortification, holding his hand like it was an offensive weapon.

“What was that for?” she laughed, “Do I remind you that much of Benny? Are you missing him that bad? Is that who you pretended was with you up here? Huh? Huh? Benny Demarco, now that’s a beauty to hide under a bushel-“

She was crowding him in on the steps and he was teetering towards falling off, too alarmed at his own outburst to trust his instincts now to shove her off without causing harm -and she knew it. She pressed her advantage and crawled over him with her teasing comments about Demarco until his long body had bowed so far away from her’s it was levitating and then toppled predictably into the surf.

“Fuck it’s cold!” he wheezed out as the embrace of the old pacific drenched him and rolled him about at her feet for a few delightful moments before he got his footing and rose, shaking his hair out of his eyes and grabbing for the steps.

“Sea bathing was in doctor Egan’s regimen.” she informed remorselessly before extending a merciful hand to help him up. He was slippery and shiny as an eel coming up and the grip of his hand was as strong as she expected. And still she found it intoxicating, the duality of him as he stood there pouting and bitchy over being cooled off. “Stay right there baby, I’ll get you a towel.” she patted his chest, right where he’d smacked hers, and went inside.

“I’m not your baby.” She heard him holler to her through the door-less porch. “I’m not your baby.” he reiterated vehemently but lower again when she came out with the towel.

“Yes you are.” she argued, “For this week you’re my baby, whether that’s a literal infant or not is your choice -and don’t start arguing, you’ve got to stop it, no one’s making you do a damn thing.” she insisted, hand raised and his mouth closed satisfyingly as a result, “You’ll be my baby. I know you already had a baby, no? Our baby? Shared her with ten other men, that’s generous of you-“

“-Ensign!-“

“-so I’m not gonna be your baby. You’ll be mine and you can find me something to be for the week.” she watched closely as recognition of her logic began to dawn and settle on him, “I could be anyone. I could be Benny Demarco, for instance. If that’s who you wanna lay next to.”

Gale didn’t speak for a long while, eyes off to the side watching the surf lap at the steps and she was still standing there, holding his unused towel. “Who do you want me to be?” he asked finally and his grave perception just about winded her in its raw honesty.

“You.” she replied honestly, “Whichever version of you made it here with me.”

“An infant -a baby.” he scoffed and she was suspicious those eyes were watery. And too delayed for it to be from the salt.

“My baby.” she replied, “Never had one before.”

“With respect ma’am, that’s Bullshit.” he argued in a fierce hiss, “I know you have, with John and -and-“

“I’ve been somebody’s,” she clarified, “but I think I’ve grown out of that. You’ll be my baby, huh? It’s not marriage, Cleven, it’s a week in paradise and hopefully some shut eye, too. So do you want me to be Benny?”

Those watery eyes let one single tear go trickling down his pink cheek alongside the rivulets of ocean water dripping from his hair and Maureen had never felt a single thing heat her up quite like it. “No,” his chuckle was thick and he sniffed, “not Benny. Maybe uh, God, I dunno, I’ve never had anyone.”

“Then we can make it up entirely.” she was pleased by the idea of not being a stand-in, although god knows she and John could sympathize more about the need for that than anyone. “We’ll be castaways.” she suggested, sitting back down on the porch now the confrontation was dwindling and in full confirmation of her suspicions, he sat again beside her without fuss.

“Marooned.” he disagreed, chin resting on his hands and a boyish tug pulling up the corner of his lips. “Something insane you did landed us here.”

“Mm, took liberties with the captain's daughter, perhaps?” she teased, daring to run a finger along those golden shoulders and collect a few salt drops. He shuddered under her but stayed put.

“I’m not playing fair maiden for you.” he retorted but his eyes were fond.

“Mm, I’ll believe it when I see it.” Maureen was still impossible and Gale felt his gut burn in a bizzare sort of drive to prove her wrong. He’d hardly ever felt this even with all the jokes from the boys, not even with all the temptations from the girls, it just hadn’t seemed something that needed proving. Every flea and salmon could do it, he never doubted when he got married he could manage it credibly enough.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jones.” his voice sounded like he’d come to a decision and Maureen squinted at his profile until it clicked.

“I’ve never been married before.” she observed breezily.

“And I never planned on being married for just a week.” he replied.

“Isn’t there a film about this?” she asked, “Cary Grant gets stuck on an island and he marries his castaway but then they get rescued and there’s a first wife?”

“Yeah, I think so, actually.” he thumbed at his bottom lip in contemplation and Maureen found it endlessly distracting, along with the bird song and the ocean crash and the sunshine.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jones.” she agreed then, settling back on her elbows to stare up at the sun and let it add a few freckles, “And when it’s over and you’re rescued, I’ll be the better woman and let Our Baby have you.”

“You’ll always be the best of women, Maureen.” he sounded like the admittance took every fiber of his resolve to say, but she’d heard it before in his voice weeks ago when she was patching him up.

If a tear slipped out the corner of her shut eyes and down a sun warmed cheek, she wasn’t going to make a deal of it, not until she felt his finger catch it tenderly before it dropped from her jaw and rolled it back up.

She felt her lip wobble traitorously and perhaps there were more tears planning to follow and betray her but the shivering shock of his full lips, pressed to her bare shoulder, stemmed the flood. Maureen held her breath and kept her eyelids sealed, an orange glow of sunshine behind them as all her senses attuned to the drag of his caresses up to the juncture of her shoulder, the press of his body next to her on the porch boards, the suspenseful absence of his hands. They were soft as marshmallows, those lips, and a stray tip of his tongue caught her clavicle as he worked his way up a path that almost seemed premeditated, as if he’d thought of doing this a million times but held back. Now he allowed himself and the assured intimacy of his mouth made her body heat soar almost beyond her endurance as he crept up her throat and onto her cheek.

A kitten lick to that tear track down her cheek and Maureen was whimpering from something else entirely, breaking ranks and turning her head to gaze at him, nearly stunned by how close he was, how alive, how beautiful, how blue. There were his hands now, one propped beneath her shoulder, the other cupping her cheek. Her lips were tingling with anticipation by the time he’d lowered his face far enough and brushed her mouth with his.

Maybe he’d done his fair share of kissing the girls back home goodbye, or maybe it was a talent given along with this impossible lips, or perhaps she’d wanted it so long that the final having of it sent Maureen spiraling with something oddly like obsession.

Kissing was enough for the longest time, the shore sounds and the squawking of ocean birds and the feel of Gale Cleven laying more and more atop her as his tongue met hers and danced. She scratched the back of that tanned neck like she dreamed of doing a dozen times, little scritches to his hairline that had him sagging against her kisses to the point of crushing.

She allowed herself the liberty of running her hands along his lean sides, taking in the graceful taper of his waist, the dip of his back, the sopping wet waistband of his briefs. She wondered if this is how men feel with a young girl, when there’s so much loveliness one wants to maul it and mark it and watch it respond. Anything to make him moan again into her mouth, wrenched and helpless and appreciative of her all at once, anything for him to hump his hips against her thigh in a manner so mindless he didn’t seem himself at all.

When he pulled away, dazed and winded from his own exertions, he seemed to have left behind all his inhibitions, stark need written on his face and only some doubt of what he was allowed yet remaining. “Are we gonna?-“ he trailed off, raspy voiced and trembling with suspense.

“Going to what?” she couldn’t abide it any longer, his demureness, “Say your mind, Cleven.”

“Do it.” he let out with a wince.

“Well I don’t know, Mr. Jones, you tell me. Are we gonna?”

Gale huffed and threw his head back, trying to regain some sense of mind, lip savagely pulled between his teeth. “Yeah. We are.” he decided.

“Then finish your sandwich.” she patted his waist and pushed him off.

“I can’t!” he begged with a groan from where he’d spilled out on the porch like a boneless dummy. “Not now.”

“You’re gonna need it, the water too, trust me on this.”

“Are we gonna -make love? Or go for a forced march?” he protested but lifted the canteen to his lips anyways when she gave him a look and proceeded to drink it dry.

“How would you know the difference?” she teased and he had the good humor to roll his eyes. If all went according to Egan’s plan, they oughta hibernate for twelve hours of sleep afterwards and she wanted him hydrated and ready for that. Maureen had a plan of her own, which certainly might lead to such a sleep, but it also involved not getting off that boy for love of God or money until he was as useless as a wet rag and the impertinent gnawing between her own legs was replaced by a good ache.

Cleven was staring at his sandwich remorsefully, “I can’t get this down, Maureen.” he declared with sudden finality and then, without preamble he threw it into the sea. “C’mon, Mrs Jones.” he held out his hand for her as he stood up, something close to an excited grin taking over his face.

He was so confident now, having come to a decision, and Maureen found herself naturally bending to his direction, placing her hand in his large palm and allowing him to haul her to her feet as gently as a dance partner. “We’ve got a bed.” she reminded blissfully into another kiss, anchored to his face by the persistent hands snarled lovingly into her salt tousled curls: this hair Maureen, this hair drove me mad.

“And we’re gonna use it.” he agreed, walking her backwards up the porch until he feet were skidding over the threshold, his tongue still sucking her own.

She stopped him there with a hand to the willowy plane of his belly, a regulated, principled woman to the last, and snapped the still soaked waistband of his drawers. “Off, you’ll make the sheets wet and sandy.”

Their sweat would accomplish dampening them enough in this muggy heat, they didn’t need sand and ocean water to boot. Maureen ducked beneath his arm and went back out to grab the discarded towel.

“I don’t want a trail of drips on our clean floor.”

Gale smiled softly at the usage of “our” -it felt right somehow, to share things with her. They’d been at it for some time, it came naturally like it had with Bucky and the few other boys who he knew would be something special and unlike anything else after this. It was a little bittersweet to know he was living the best days of his life, right here and now, enviable, irretrievable moments of raw connection slipping away with each drip, drip, drip onto the threshold. It was a heartache in the making and it was a spur for the moment. Back home they’d never understand, and any old observer would see nothing unique, but Gale could allow himself the rightness of sharing just one more thing. Why not cement it fully, irrevocably, as the closest brush he’d ever come to with another soul- he’d asked himself the same with Bucky, knew it was already an established fact.

Maureen’s lips were warm where they pressed to his back, the space between his shoulders, towel held to his waist. “You’re not shy of me, are ya, baby?” she whispered in his ear, thumbing at the still worn briefs.

He could feel himself this past hour hardening and softening, so many times in the space of so many minutes he was dizzy with it, the way his brain would have the upper hand and then, suddenly no, it all rushed south. Which now left shyness as the only real excuse for the way he burned and shrank and burned and shrank in turn at each of her touches.

“You gonna give me the towel?” he asked instead.

“Once it’s safe to do so.” she replied primly, in her familiar nursing voice, and he hated the shudder that tore through him. She stepped under his arm again, around him and into the house, and stood in the shade of the it with the towel spread invitingly, tauntingly. A whole yard and a half between then and she’d decreed no drips past the threshold. Gale’s cheeks burned as did his eyes, smarting with brimming tears from an odd frustration he’d only ever felt over a botched mission, an anger at not being able to bomb his target and make it worthwhile, a petty frustration he always felt before the cold rage of lost men fully registered.

Futile tears: Gale yanked the skivvies down and stepped out of them efficiently.

Maureen wasn’t smiling at him from the shade anymore, not even a smirk, she looked hungry. She looked like Bucky, taking in “a view.” Gale didn’t know ladies ticked that way -or maybe they didn’t, maybe only Maureen did. The blush in his cheeks ran down his chest and spilled onto his belly and his fists clenched without thought.

“When the man of the house,” Maureen was reciting some inane pamphlet she no doubt did not heed or else they’d never be here, “respects the whims of the lady in small matters, he will find the lady more submissive to issues of larger stake such a-“

Gale made a dash at her, to shut her up, and she fled from him to the bedroom, feet smacking on the hardwood and cotton slip fluttering up her thighs -his towel with her.

“I want you bare.” he told her when he had her, struggling in his arms before the bed, a lush friction where he pressed tightly behind her.

“Then sit,” she sounded genuinely breathy, trapped to him and he had never heard her like that before, it made him want to hold fast, “and I’ll make your dreams come true.”

It was just a slip, no garters and no braisere or girdle, yet still Gale sat himself on the bed and Maureen bit her cheek to keep from laughing at the modest way he deposited the towel on his lap, covering what she’d been eyeing and thanking her luck for. A cock as pretty as his face -now if she could just make it stand up fully.

“You ready?” she deferred to him as she stood there before the bed, being looked on with all the reverence and trepidation of a goddess by this seated acolyte.

“Please,” he nodded furiously, “please show me.”

It felt a little wrong to expose oneself in front of such an angelic being, curtainless windows throwing in the sun on him all golden and untouched, white scratchy sheets and white draped towel making it a bower of innocence for a brief moment. It also felt right, to throw off everything but what they’d been born with. Off went rank, obligations and expectations, as easily as dragging the slip over her head.

She tossed the article of clothing behind her for good measure -and dramatic effect- then noted with satisfaction the bleary eyed comprehension of her charms from Gale Cleven where he sat with his mouth hung so slack he was liable to drool.

“Incredible.” he muttered, husky and a little slurred, his hand raising without his own volition to beckon her closer, a plea, command.

Maureen swayed on her feet, nearer and nearer until she was standing above him, between his parted legs and she shuddered as he laid that broad palm on her hip and dragged it up her side in an admiring swath, thumbing at her belly and catching her ribs in his hold.

“Those flight suits of yours, they don’t…they don’t let show the half of it.” Gale declared, mesmerized, face hovering closer and closer until his lips were pressing against her flesh, right under her sternum, his forehead pressed to the underside of one pendulous breast, nuzzling as he became aware of that, bunting like a calf at her breast with his face, gone silly with access.

“Whadda ya think?” she giggled, the silliness of Gale Cleven gone stupid over making yams jiggle being the exact sort of thing that made life worth living, and being a woman exquisitely satisfying.

“They’re so goddamn soft.” he moaned around a bit of the underside, still hadn’t worked his way to a nipple. He seemed too preoccupied with their give and bounce to make a more calculated use of them. Maybe if men hadn’t been told what to do with them, they’d do what Gale Cleven was doing and rub their face against them and let them rest on their foreheads. There was a charm to this ignorance as he licked the salty sweat from their undersides with a surprisingly brave tongue.

The clumsy misuse was oddly effective for Maureen, what Gale lacked in skill he made up for in unstudied appreciation and nothing got her quite so ready as being appreciated to the point of foolishness. Her first conquest had been a boy at school who hadn’t minded tripping in his track shoes, day after day, to try to catch up to her on her bicycle, just to give her a flower or trinket. He was laughed at for his devotion until he broke the school track record next year, and Maureen was sure to remind him of her role in his success. They’d soon found a mutually beneficial reward system and Maureen had adopted that attitude as a maxim for the future, her dates and conquests may have been many but each of them in their own way had been appreciative -or else she was jumping out the window, damn the twelve foot drop out the dormitory.

No one, however, had looked quite so gifted by her mere existence as Gale Cleven did while he clutched at her hips and smushed her flesh between his hands like it were some fine dough and he was an artisan.

Discreetly, and it was easy to be so with his face buried in her bosoms, Maureen glanced between them at the tool she had such hopes for and found it, unsurprisingly, twitching and dribbling against his thigh, half hard but flapping about like a fish on dry land, the discarded towel no match for its movement. He’d need a hand, literally and metaphorically, and as she raked her nails through his blond curls and directed his slick mouth to a nipple, she felt him sag even further into her hold. Maureen weighed her next step carefully, trying to tamp down her own wants. She’d need to be sure but slow, careful not to spook him, or antagonize or embarrass.

She wondered if he even realized the same banged-up-head condition that sent him out here was most likely responsible for the jitters that kept him flopping. She wasn’t so conceited as to assume he’d not bedded a woman yet out of mere dysfunction, Cleven was a man of principle and strict notions regarding how the world should be, and he wasn’t one to build those notions on passing medical conditions.

“You like ‘em?” Maureen teased him, shocked at how hoarse her own voice had gone in the interim.

“Gonna make a home in here.” he mumbled in the affirmative, slack grin molded to the valley between them, blue eyes wide as the skies outside peering up at her.

“Got a job for you, baby.” she murmured, thumbing at the scar on his cheek.

“What’s that Mrs. Jones?” his voice alone made her mad with need, as did the saucy turn of his mouth so wonderfully foreign she didn’t know how she’d control herself until he was ready.

“Need you to lick a little landing strip, right here.” she ran her finger along the somewhat tacky skin between her breasts, sweat and his sloppy kisses having partway done the job already.

“What for?” Gale asked, hushed and curious.

“You’ll see soon enough.” she recalled how effective her nursing voice had been on him, and pulled it out now it seemed beneficial.

She had been right, with only a hesitant spark of aggravated defiance, Gale dipped his head and stuck out that pink tongue, lapping a swath up between her breasts as directed, flaming eyes locked on hers as she shivered from the breeze on spit slicked flesh.

“Again.” she told him, and his hands came up to hold her breasts apart as he did it again, and again and once more under his own direction until it was shiny and messy and his nose was gleaming, too.

“What’s it for?” He demanded once more, pink cheeked and swallowing hard as his mouth had dried out from his efforts.

“I told you, silly,” she replied casually, “it’s a landing strip.” and with as little fuss as possible she got to her knees before he’d registered the absence of her standing above him. “Gale, let go of the damned towel.”

She held in a laugh of delight at the tortured color he had grown to, veins running like so much ivy up and down him and a vibrant pink tip that matched his lips. Maureen wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to look him in the face again without thinking of this drizzling little pink mushroom.

“You oughta count your blessings, Gale Cleven, it was a close call, my coming along at all.” she informed him soberly while his mind visibly vacated his body at the repeated sighting of his sputtering cock emerging from between the pillowy press of her breasts, “It was pretty touch and go there for a bit, I was quite sure in fact, that Bucky was gonna help himself to this assignment.”

“Maureen!” Gale thundered, except his usual imposing ire was much diluted by his quivering belly and hoarse voice.

“What?” she brushed off his scandalized displeasure with a grin, feeling cocky herself as he hadn’t flagged on her in minutes and was beginning to gush in earnest, “Bucky loves the beach.”

“Sure, Maureen.”

“In the end he decided I had what it takes.” she went on conversationally, ignoring the inhuman sounds that came out of him when she casually spit on his tip, the better to work her lips around him, “These.” she clarified, pressing her breasts to his thighs as she wrapped her mouth around him and sucked.

“Fuck, hell, Maureen! Sorry, sorry, oh fuck!” -not even Gale Cleven had expected his hips to fly up that hard and fast, knocking on the back of her throat.

She laid her hands on his squirmy hips and did her best impression of a Listerine gargle round his tip, which sent a shudder through him so strong she thought he might’ve climaxed already.

“Maureen, Maureen come on, get up here, please.” now he yanked at her hair, desperate for once and that was a pleasure to hear.

“What baby?” she pulled off him.

“Gotta kiss you.” he told her firmly, and hauled her bodily up by her armpits, rolling her under him in the bed.

Kisses -sure, Gale, kisses.

He was moaning atop her, wiry and flexing his hips against her, wriggling to get between her thighs and she let him, hungry and expectant when he slotted easily in place. He pressed his lips to hers ardently, then reared back in shock at the taste of his own precum in her mouth and on her lips.

“Salty.” he whispered as if to himself before licking his lips and going back for more. “What do I need’to do?” he whispered urgently against her mouth as she rocked against him and he rocked back until they’d frustrated each other thoroughly with mere caresses.

“Put it in, my baby.” she whispered back.

“First though, don’t I need to-to do- something? Something first?” he could barely think straight but he’d heard enough talk about this, about gentlemen and the necessity of some form of chivalrous preparation. The way discipline and intuition set apart an average pilot from an excellent one. Bucky had talked a lot about getting girls ready, making them squirm, revving them up, for all his apparent disinterest during the topic, Gale had been listening.

“You’ve done it already, Mr. Jones.” she giggled, reaching between them to drag him more firmly through the wanton swamp he’d made of her. “I’m ready, I’m so ready.”

“Oh fuck, s’wet.” he mumbled the obvious before willingly letting her guide him in, his body following her tug like his cock were a leash.

“Jesus,— Gale!” Maureen choked as he bottomed out in a sudden plunge, shocked at the stretch despite the gauging of his size. “You’re so deep, oh baby you’re a big one aren't ya.”

“You ok?” he whimpered, shuddering on top of her again and again at the incomparable feeling of being inside another’s body.

“Oh yeah, yeah I’m fine,” she gasped, “Hurts so good, you can move, baby.”

“You’re so warm.” he sounded close to worshipful he was so drunk off her, and Maureen spared a moment to smirk at the fate of man: come tearing their way out of a woman to begin their lives only to spend the rest of it trying to and needing to get back in.

He did try to move, she’d give him that. And while Maureen was more than half expecting it, still, it was mildly comical to see the confusion flash across his blissful face right as the buildup was snatched from him and he was suddenly shaking into the real event before he knew it, betrayed and euphoric all at once. The muscles in his belly and back and neck seized and his hips lunged in a series of uncoordinated pumps and she could read the panic in his eyes right before they rolled back -a begrudging admittance that this was nothing at all like the steady predictability of his hand.

“That’s it baby, that’s my baby, feel nice, huh?”

Gale didn’t answer her, too occupied whimpering with a taut throat and jaw clenched so tight he could snap a hinge like that. He was shaking worse than before when the spasms subsided and the tiniest pressure to his sweat slicked neck had him buckling to lay pressed against her, half senseless from the force of his release.

Maureen had always loved this part of sex, the pliable, bewildered, smushed man atop her like she’d sucked his soul out, when he’d rendered it up to her so willingly, so desperately, forcefully even, chasing his own eventual weakness. Long limbs aligning on top of hers, the hot pants of winded breath against her breasts, the hands listlessly holding on wherever that had last tried to grip and control her. The view from above with Gale Cleven was something additional, beautiful and glistening with bronzed swaths of sun exposed skin and the pale whites of his thighs and ass making a perfect little outline of absent shorts, his golden hair tousled beyond salvaging and that luscious mouth, drooling like a babe’s.

“So this is what Bucky’s been talkin’ about.” he mumbled into her breast, cheek smashed and enunciation shot to hell.

Maureen laughed in disbelief, “Thinking of him even now? Really, he’s going to be impossible if we tell him.”

“Just sayin’, now I know.” he defended, lazily rubbing his partly softened cock inside her with a shimmy of his hips that was quickly followed by an overly sensitive mewl.

“You don’t know anything, Angel boy.” she insisted and Gale raised his head at that, sour that she’d still contradict him after thirty seconds of vigorous pumping. “Let me see your hands.”

He had some trouble recalling where he put them but eventually he found them under her hips and withdrew them from their warm shelter to present them, warily. “Well, damn.” he muttered to himself, somewhat shocked by just how badly the shakes had worsened. “Looks like that treatment backfired.”

“More of a dose dependent case, I’d say.” Maureen corrected and circled each wrist with her hands and brought them up to her lips to kiss.

Gale’s face smoothed at her softness and a shy smile lit up his bleary eyes while she felt a twitch of his spent cock deep inside her, swishing about the mess he’d made like a dog’s tail after getting pats. “You have the most beautiful hands.” she informed him earnestly and balls deep inside her she watched as one single innocuous compliment sent him scarlet with a blush. “And they’ll be yours again soon.” she promised.

His gentle expression and bright red cheeks crumpled rather suddenly and before either of them seemed to expect it, fat teardrops had escaped the blue of his eyes and rolled down the crimson flesh of his face.

“Goddamnit.” he cursed hoarsely, in an absolute rage at himself, regaining his hands from her grip insistently to bring them up to his own face, hiding from her behind harsh fists that rubbed at his wet eyes like he could grind the grief and weariness out between his knuckles.

Unbalanced as he was without hands to support him, and legs gone jellied from his fast fading pleasure, Maureen chose to capitalize on it as a nurse would a brief state of insensibility to move a patient to a cleaner cot. Remorselessly she pressed at his shoulder and lifted their still joined hips until he tipped over, rolling onto his back beneath her. “We’ll have none of that.” she told him with loving adamance from her new perch, prying his hands away and pressing them to the sheets beside his head. “The hiding, I mean.” she clarified and he looked all of hardly past twenty laying there with wobbly lips and wet eyes unobscured, “I’m a very great proponent of crying,” she went on conversationally which confused him more but kept him too preoccupied to stifle his tears, “De-sanguination is still a highly esteemed practice, you know, it means to drain the body. One type of draining often triggers the other.”

“You gonna start bleeding me?” he asked wryly.

“Oh, maybe, you’d look so pretty all streaked up.” she teased and ran a sharp thumbnail over his pinned wrist.

Well, that got him hard again. Fascinating.

“You know what’s got your hands like this-“ she whispered softly, “-probably the same reason you flop, too.”

“Huh.”

“Pretty common.” she assured.

“Quit tellin’ me I’m common.” He growled, tickling her sides and she grabbed his hands, pinning them again playfully.

“Nothing common about you, sweet baby.” she swore, leaning down to kiss him and enjoying the way he met her strongly, surely, “Gale, can I move?” she asked, half strangled by the taut string of need coiled in her belly, tugged to madness by the bulk of him still resting limply inside.

“Move?” he was perplexed.

“I’m going to die if I don’t get some friction.” she whispered, somehow shy to admit that in the face of his innocent bewilderment, “God -please tell me someone has informed you women finish, too?”

“Bucky says they clamp up so tight you can’t help but blow.” Gale recited dutifully, “Which is what just happened, right?”

Maureen grinned wide and wicked before dragging her hips up till he was barely in, then plopping down into the cradle of his hips, making him let out a “oomph.”

“Maureen?” he questioned, half knowing already he had been mistaken but hell, to go again? “Maureen- I’ll die if we go again.”

“What a way to go.” she muttered, her pace atop him increasing as did the tortured gasps tumbling from his lips. His spunk was making terribly wet, lewdly sloppy sounds of suction each time she slammed down on his cock and the visual of her exerting herself on top of him was something so blatant and jiggly he could hardly endure the visual feast of it.

“Shit, shit I can’t-“ he growled while his trembling hands latched onto her hips in a grip that was anything but dissuading. “Maureen.” he begged her for…he knew not what.

“Come on Mr. Jones,” she clasped her hands around his face and aligned their noses, rubbing like a kiss with each movement of her lower body, “you’re not one to leave your missus needy, I know you’re not. Not when you’ve got such pretty hands-“

-a shudder from him.

“and a clever tongue-“

-a whine from him that sounded close to a wounded dog’s it was so lasting.

“-or a tool this capable.”

“Maureen.” he groaned.

“Baby, my baby.” she begged, “You’ve got what I need, come on, take me apart.”

Like he trusted himself for the first time since they began this endeavor, she felt his body bow up beneath her, his arm flexing strongly across her hips, his legs braced beneath her and a heavy hand clutching her neck, then he was driving up into her with a wild abandon she only ever hoped was simmering beneath that cool exterior. When she finished he hadn’t stopped, and Maureen found herself crying out like a feral thing into the hollow of his clavicle as the brutal pummeling went on, satisfaction drug out of her over and over in harsh ruts.

“That more like it?” he panted the harsher he grew, a hand around her jaw pushing her face away from his so he might see the damage he was doing.

“Yes, yes oh baby, yes!” she swore through clenched teeth, it had been too long and each blissful peak only aggravated her further, made her hungrier, that and the fact he was so proportioned as to be a constant delight just shy of pain, “Hell Gale, do ya hear us?” she gloated, propping herself back on his thighs to watch the shiny pink of him flash in and out of her wet sheath.

Mesmerized, Gale didn’t reply, but he dragged a hand up her belly and felt for the way it tensed at each intrusion, the span of his fingers an incredible thing across her skin. “Can’t believe you can take it, easy as that.” he marveled, his thumb straying and pulling apart her petals the better to watch.

“Thumb it right there.” she directed gently, reaching down to move his calloused finger over her bud, right above where he split her apart, “That’s it, ya feel that too, huh?”

“Fuck you’re tight.” his voice cracked and his eyes shot wide again.

“Are you -?”

“Maybe.” there was a wobble of blissed uncertainty in his voice until she stopped her movements and he let out a sob before he could catch it. “Maureen, please.”

“Please what, baby?” she was chuckling at him, pushing his hair off his sweaty forehead, “I let you-“ he pleaded, still thinking things worked that way, “-now I need, please Maureen...”

“Oh you can.” she assured and his face lightened but his eyes stayed wary, “But just know, I won’t be stopping.”

“What?”

“You remember how that feels, don’t ya baby?” she reminded, gently pushing him to lie back and beginning their movements anew, “So good you can’t stand it, so messy and easy for me, so tender and much for you?”

“Jesus.” he wheezed, his lean belly caving in with his heavy pants, but she felt him throbbing inside her and his pupils were large as saucers, “You’re as mean as Bucky.” he whined, voice gone high in panicked pleasure.

“Thank you, but really I’m not.” she laughed, gently thumbing away an errant tear that rolled down his cheek. “Not quite.”

“Maureen, please, please you’re too pretty!” he begged nonsensically even as his hips began to snap into hers, invigorated and forceful.

“Hold it Gale, try to hold it.” Maureen gasped, staring down at the prettiest face she’d ever seen as his brow began to furrow, “Or don’t, all the same to me.”

“I’m gonna flip you.” he swore and a few seconds of inaction passed, marked by the slam of her hips down onto his, and she thought he didn’t mean it until she gave him a daring look and suddenly she was careening backwards, head jolting against the sheets and body laid out firmly beneath him.

“Goddamn.” she swore at the way he hadn’t dislodged an inch during the whole maneuver, suddenly pressed just as deeply as before, his hips working like a piston and his hands tight and strong on her neck. “Goddamn baby. Oh goddamn that’s good.”

“S’good?” he begged her to repeat, some dizzying natural force propelling him harder and faster and needier.

“You’re so good.” she was adamant as she hung about his neck and locked her ankles in the small of his back. “You’re so good I’m - I’m -gonna-“

“What was that about holdin’ it?” he hissed, smile cocky and smug.

“Bull ain’t out of the gate yet Cleven,” she cautioned but her hips had begun to lift of their own accord, a tremble taking hold of her, “But I’m close, I’m, i'm real cl- oh God!”

“Come on sweet Maureen, wanna make ya -wanna do it for ya. Give ya what you need, Mrs Jones.” Gale’s hoarse and sweet nothings poured hot and breathy in her ear and Maureen found herself locked and gripping him before she knew it, moaning into his neck as he moved in and out, in and out as she’d only ever dreamed of.

When she cracked her dazzled eyes open again he was panting above her, the clink of his dog tags gently bumping her chin with each sway deeper, lashes batting in a golden flutter as he too began to lose himself, slower, more drawn out and yet every bit as desperate as the first time.

“Look at me baby, look at me when ya do.” she pleaded, gently gripping his chin as his mouth fell open in a series of little noises of effort that went straight to her belly grown hot and molten with the feeling of him spurting inside.

“Ugh, ugh, ugh,” Gale was working atop her in pained delight, lips so smeared and face so sweaty he looked like he might melt at any minute, “thank you, oh fuck, thank you, sweet Maureen.” he chanted low and dreamy, again and again until he drove in once more and stayed.

Those clear blue eyes fagged in an exhausted ecstasy, his head dropping impossibly further with each ragged pant until his face was barely hovering over her breasts, neck bent and forhead slowly pressing into the swell of them. His forearms gave out and those hands of his stayed trapped beneath her shoulder blades.

“Sleep Angel baby,” Maureen coaxed, hand cradling the back of his dear head to her breasts, feeling a low lazy peace settle over her at the feel of his dead weight plugging her up and the lovely wringing out she’d just endured, “let’s just sleep, dear boy.”

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[lilgarbitch]

hi love how are youuu? first of, so in love your works!! second of, im in my ruffilo girl era ☝🥵 i was thinking,, can you do one where we go on a concert date and all that lovie dovie pls??? (totally not influenced by his last ig story)

Nearer My God

Pairing: Nicholas Ruffilo x Reader

CW: debilitating fluff. Friends going on their first date and it going so well that you’re gonna start kicking your feet and giggling. I just love ‘little dialogue lots of body language’ stories.

Word Count: 2.7k

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for this. This has to be my favorite request I’ve ever seen. You have no idea how quickly I began writing when I read it. And Nick couldn’t have picked a better band to have seen last night. And if he hadn’t convinced you enough, I highly recommend checking out Foxing, especially while reading this.

You’re running around your apartment, making sure you had everything you needed. You wanted to leave this anxiety at home, so the last thing you wanted was to end up forgetting something and stressing about it later. Checking your purse for the umpteenth time, you let out a sigh, hoping to exhale the fire from your nerves. 

You walk back into your bedroom and take one last peek at your appearance. You lean towards your vanity mirror, checking that you hadn’t smudged your makeup yet, when you hear a knock at your front door. 

With a gasp, you check your phone and realize that it was 6pm already. You take one last glance at yourself, smoothing out your outfit and running through your mental list of everything you needed before you finally made your way to your front door. With one last deep breath, you open it.

As you glanced at the adorable tatted boy across the threshold, you couldn’t help but match his nervous but excited smile.

“Hi,” you say, but it comes out a whisper.

“Hi,” he replies with a soft chuckle, “You almost ready?” 

You give him a nod and step away from the door, leaving it open for him to let himself in. You try your best not to run, as you don’t want to embarrass yourself with your excitement and nerves, but you rush your way through your apartment, grabbing your purse and shoes and turning off any lights or hair styling appliances. Once your shoes were on and you knew nothing would burn your house down while you were gone, you make your way to Nick, who was still standing at your door. He looked tense and in thought, but when his eyes landed on you walking back to him, his shoulders relaxed and a smile reformed on his face. 

You let him know that you were ready, so he gestures you out the front door before following. You quickly lock your door and join him on his stroll to his car. As he made his way closer to the car, he moved around it and walked towards the passenger side, opening the door for you with a smile. You let out a soft giggle and a ‘Thank you’ as you slide your way into the seat.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” he says with a grin, leaning down in the doorway of the car to meet your eyes. 

“Oh…thank you,” you say, sounding a little sheepish as a blush formed on your cheeks at his unexpected chivalry. 

He just chuckled and closed the door before making his way around the car and sliding into the driver’s seat. 

It wasn’t a far drive to the venue, thankfully, but you couldn’t help but feel your heart race at the tension in the car. Soft music played on the radio and he gently patted his thumbs against the steering wheel as he drove. All you could do was try and leave your nerves behind, wanting to accept that this wasn’t a night to worry about impressions. He already asked you on a date. Even though it was to see one of his favorite bands, it was still a date, and it still proved that he was interested. If anything, bringing you to see music he enjoyed was more intimate than simply going out to dinner. 

“So, have you heard of Foxing before?” he asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

“Yeah,” you answered, “You mentioned them a while back, so I gave them a listen and really enjoyed their music, so I’m happy to finally be hearing them live.” 

He glanced at you for a moment before turning back to the road with a smile forming on his face.

“I got you into them?” he asked, sounding almost proud of himself, but there was a hint of something else in his voice. Like a sense of adoration at the thought of you giving his interests a chance.

“Yeah. I love checking out the bands you talk about, even if it’s in passing,” you reply, almost embarrassed to admit that you paid more attention to the things he talked about than he thought you did. 

A wide smile formed on his face, one that he couldn’t fight back as he felt a sense of warmth in his chest. You went out of your way to try to enjoy the things he did, and he could’ve fallen in love right then and there just hearing that. 

The ride fell into a silence once again, this time with a little more serene vibe as you made your way to the venue with smiles on your faces.

Once the car came to a stop, Nick quickly moved to open the car door for you again before you could even get your hand on the handle, causing you to laugh. 

You two made your way into the venue and found a good spot to stand, not too close to the center of the crowd, but where you could still see the stage perfectly. Nick let you stand in front of him to both make sure that you could see, and to keep an eye on the crowd around you.

The band eventually took the stage, causing the crowd to cheer. ‘Secret History’ began playing and you took in Conor’s vocals, letting yourself relax into the melody before you knew you had to brace yourself for the energy to pick up. 

It was a quick change, but thankfully you knew the song well, so you were expecting it. The music got louder and the crowd got crazier. You couldn’t help but chuckle as you watch everyone fit into their element, letting themselves enjoy the music in their own way. 

Nick’s hands moved to rest on your hips in an almost protective manner, not wanting you to move too far and slip into the pit of people. You relaxed and let yourself take in the music, knowing you had someone protecting you as the music switched back and forth between peaceful melodies and harsh and heavy beats. 

As ‘Spit’ began playing, you felt Nick’s body finally relax behind yours, letting him take in the music and lyrics. He still had a hold on your waist, but his arms slacked and his body swayed gently as the music poured through the speakers. 

Would you hold my head in your lap

Soak the fever in cold rags

His grip on your waist tightened. Not in a tense manner, but almost like his mind subconsciously wanted to hold onto you tighter. 

Cause tonight you have my soul

The crosses have jumped off the wall

And all of this surrounding us is distraction 

Cemented in the moment, frozen in resin

His fingers moved against your hips, almost as if he was fidgeting, deep in thought and not realizing. You gently pressed your back against his chest, hoping the feeling would soothe him and bring him back. As you did, you felt his chest rise and fall, like he took a deep breath. He relaxed once again, feeling the warmth of your back pressed right above his heart, and rested his chin on top of your head. 

‘Greyhound’ was next, and soon the two of you swayed together to the music. You closed your eyes and focused on the comfort around you. His hands on your hips, chin on your head, the gentle rocking of your bodies, and the melodies flowing through the room. You didn’t know if it was the vibrations of the bass, or the feelings ruminating inside of you, but you could feel something in your chest.

“You doing okay?” He asked, bringing his face to the side of yours to speak in your ear, making sure you could hear him over the noise. You turned your head and looked up at him, pausing for a moment when you realized how close your faces were, before nodding with a warm smile.

He mirrored your smile with one that made your eyes flicker to how close his lips were. He soothingly rubbed his thumb against your hip as he stood back up, pulling you back to lean against his chest as he rested his chin on your head once again.

The music continued and the band spoke a few words to the crowd, getting cheers from the room. But Nick and you just stayed there, silently watching as he held you close. 

Your mind was racing. You had a crush on Nick for the longest time, and now you were on your first date with him and were enjoying it more than you’d ever imagined. You thought about when he finally asked you out, and how much it shocked you to find out he felt the same. How you always thought you’d have to deal with staying friends, terrified to say anything in fear that you’d ruin the friendship. But here you were, pressed close to him while you listened to a band both of you loved. And now, the only thing on your mind was how badly you wanted to kiss him.

You got pulled from your thoughts when ‘The Medic’ started, when you felt his chin moving and a rumble in his chest against your back, signaling that he was singing along. A smile formed on your face at the added comfort. The sweet act of him opening up as he let the lyrics flow from his lips.

She says you always smell like cigarettes 

And there’s always whiskey on your breath

But you’re the best that I can do

And I, I think I love you

Now if you want me to slow down

Just tell me to slow down

You join in, softly singing along with him.

Now if you want me to slow down

Just tell me to slow down

Cause I, I, I, I want, want, want to be loved

Yes, I, I, I, I want, want, want to be loved

You feel his hands subconsciously tighten their grip on your hips as he notices. He pulls you closer and slides his arms around you, holding you flush to him by your waist as you both continue to sing along. 

You both stayed like that, him having you in an almost possessive hold against him. Even when louder songs play and the crowd gets rowdier, you two just stood there, enjoying the closeness more than the music. 

You began to realize that he chose a Foxing concert for a reason. He wanted you to listen to the lyrics with him close to you. As the set continued and you truly took in the words Conor sang, you understood that this was Nick’s way of truly opening up, of letting you into his heart. The lyrics turned into a live reading of his everyday thoughts and his feelings for you. 

So when they started playing ‘Nearer My God’ and you felt his head drop to your shoulder as he began to sing along, your heart raced faster than before. 

I want it all

I’ll watch the bridges all burn

And I’ll be your dog

It was quiet compared to the noise around you, but you still heard it. His voice, singing along. He held you tighter, burying his face into your neck as he continued.

I’d be a darling for you

Or anyone who wants me at all

Does anybody want me at all?

You couldn’t react. You didn’t know how. All you could do was listen to him voice his deepest feelings as the song played. It wasn’t just his need for you. It was his need for comfort. For happiness. He was physically and metaphorically leaning on you for support as he spoke his deepest emotions out into the world through their lyrics. Your heart simultaneously ached and swelled at the vulnerability he was showing you for the first time. His heart opening to finally let you in. To be his support. To love him. To make him feel whole again.

As the song was coming to an end, you reached your hand up and gently laced your fingers into his hair, soothingly running them against his scalp. You wanted to be his comfort. To be the one he could come to. The one who could make him feel loved again. And instead of saying it out loud, you chose to show him. 

As he melted into your touch, you gently turned and leaned to the side, causing his face to pull away from your neck. Your eyes met, his baring a mix of nervousness and hope, while yours just showed pure love and adoration. 

You kept your gaze locked with his for a few moments, taking in how close he was to you and the peace you felt having him here. He let out a shaky breath as you glanced down at his lips, involuntarily licking yours as you used your hold on his hair to bring the two of you closer. 

The moment your lips met, it was as if time stopped and the two of you melted into one. He used his hands on your hips to slowly spin you around until your chest was pressed against his. He brought a hand up to cup your cheek and wrapped the other around your waist, holding your body flush to his. 

It was a gentle, sweet kiss, his lips dancing with yours, but there was still passion behind it. As if it was your way of baring your souls to each other, with a need for it to never end. You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought a hand up to the back of his head, holding his face to yours like you’d never let him go.

Before you knew it, he pulled away and rested his forehead against yours, letting both of you catch your breath and take everything in. Your eyes were still closed as you held his head to yours and he held your body to his. ‘Hall of Frozen Heads’ flowed through the air around you. This was the peace you searched for your whole life.

You couldn’t hold it back. A chuckle fell from your lips, causing one to rumble in his chest against yours. You finally opened your eyes and looked up to meet his. The corners of his eyes were crinkled from the smile on his face, one that you realized mirrored yours. 

The lights of the venue came back on, bringing the two of you back to reality. You pulled apart and watched as the crowd began to file out, remembering that you too had to leave. 

Taking your hand in his, he managed to slip both of you through the crowd, almost in a hurry to get back to the car. You couldn’t help but giggle as he pulled you along with such dedication. 

Once outside, he wrapped an arm over your shoulder as you made your way back to the car, leaning his head on yours as if he couldn’t be close enough to you in this moment. 

He paused once you made it to the passenger side of his car, before turning you to face him. He looked down at you with a smile, bringing a hand up to cup the side of your head. 

“Thank you for letting me bring you. I don’t think I’ve ever had a better time at a concert,” he said in a soft, sincere voice.

“Not even your own?” you asked, giggling. He let out a chuckle and shook his head. 

“Not even close,” he said in an amused but gentle voice.

“Well, thank you for bringing me. Definitely one of my top 10 concert experiences,” you joked with a teasing smile. He playfully raised an eyebrow.

“Top 10?” he asked, leaning closer with a humored smile.

“Okay…top 5,” you continued with a playful tone as his lips got closer to yours. 

“How about now?” he asked before meeting your lips again, this time with a more delicate kiss. Both of you were smiling too wide into the kiss that you were giggling when he finally pulled away. 

“Fine. Top 3,” you said with a playful smile, looking up at him. He let out a chuckle and moved to open the passenger door for you.

“Guess I’ll have to find another concert for us to go to,” he said as you slid into the seat. 

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” you replied, making him chuckle more. 

[brossession-collection]

Dad's Pits (Male Possession)

"Charlie! Get your fucking ass down here!"

Charlie's eyes shot open as he heard the muffled yells of his dad's piercing through his bedroom door. He flinched, pulling his hands out of his musky briefs and hitting his head on the bedframe.

"Fuck that hurt."

Charlie is a 23 year old washed out jock who just barely graduated from college. Exhausted from the years of studying and the lack of any job leads, he came back home tired and defeated. It didn't help that he was a kinky fucker, masturbating his days away to the smell of his ripe sweaty pits.

In fact, Charlie's main reason for playing club lacrosse in college was so that he could rummage through the open lockers and dirty laundry hampers, claiming any soiled jerseys to take a dirty sniff. He got caught once, with the strength coach's yellowed jockstrap over his face.

Dude got put on probation and his single dad found out immediately.

Charlie's dad, Jeff, although stern and strict, is a pretty loving dad through and through. He's a construction manager at one of the biggest firms in the city, leading huge projects and coming home day after day fatigued, pissy, and, most importantly, musky.

And today wasn't any different.

"You hear me!? You better not be whacking your d*ck!"

Charlie groaned as he got up, not bothering to slip anything on. He opened the door and yelled back, slightly embarrassed.

"I'm not dad! What do you need!?"

"How about you get your ass down here like I said and get some dinner on the table. Least you can do to help out around here"

Charlie tucked his boner into his briefs, put on some shorts and a loose tank top jersey, and trotted down the stairs regrettably. He made eye contact with Jeff, who was taking off his plaid button down, leaving behind a tight white tank top and belted wrangler jeans.

"There you are" Jeff said more softly than just a second ago. "Listen Charlie I don't wanna be yelling at ya. You're a grown ass adult and you're still living here. Could be proactive and help out around here more."

Charlie rubbed his eyes, yawned, then nodded, his bushy pits wafting out a dry musk that made his dad wince.

"Jesus christ boy. Go take a fucking shower. Don't know how you can handle yourself smelling like that. I can barely deal with my own stink right after work."

Charlie muttered a "well I can" under his breath as he rummaged through the fridge. He glanced at his dad who seemed to not notice.

"Speaking of, I'm gonna take a shower. Gotta get this fucking stench off me. Have dinner on the table when I get back alright?"

"Yeah yeah yeah. Will do daddio."

Charlie looked back as his dad jogged up the stairs, his tatted built arms swinging side to side with every step. While Charlie had more of an athletic lanky build, Jeff was a bit more bulky, carrying a muscular dad bod. They were the same height, and had similar characteristics, but his dad looked more mature with his bushy beard and uncontrollable chest hair. Charlie was jealous of those features. "I could be waaay more musky if I had dad's hairiness" he constantly thought.

Charlie felt an air of dizziness as he dropped some produce on the kitchen counter. He tried to steady himself, but for some reason couldn't keep his heavy eyelids open. "Shit... Must be the blue balls..." he slurred as he drunkenly stumbled to the dinner table. He slumped onto a chair and zonked out.

...

When Charlie came to, he felt strange. More airy, like he was floating. He felt cold, but for some reason couldn't feel his skin when he tried to grab it. He yelled when he looked down.

"The fuck is happening?"

"Why's my skin all green?"

Charlie poked and prodded at his translucent abs, which responded with a gooey jello-ey jiggle. "No fucking way man what the hell is this shit!?" he yelled.

Suddenly musky green gas started to emit from his armpits and ass, as if he was a walking stink cloud. Charlie curiously raised one of his arms up to take a sniff, only to smell one of the most rancid, ripe, and gloriously delicious stenches he's ever inhaled.

"Wheeeeewwww. Fuck... I smell so fucking BAD! I mean... GOOD". Charlie couldn't stop whiffing his own pits, hypnotized by the incredible musk that his ghostly form was now exuding.

Charlie looked around. He could see musky stink lines coming from objects all over the house, as if he had stink-o-vision. He strutted over to his dad's hung-up button down, which was apparently excessively musky.

"Damn... smells so goooood" he moaned as he brought his nose and hand up to the fabric. Suddenly, his fingers, then hand, then forearms got sucked into the fabric. With every finger twitch he tried to do, he watched as the shirt jostled around, as if he had partial control over it.

Charlie was chuckling, experimenting with his new powers for atleast 2 minutes straight before he heard a familiar voice call from up stairs.

"I'll be out in 15!" his dad yelled. Charlie heard the shower turn as his dad stomped around on the floor above, waiting for the water to heat up.

Charlie, looking down at his green ghostly body, grinned and thought of something mischievous to try. He got up and started tip-toeing up the stairs, the green stench still floating off his body.

He opened his dad's bedroom door and saw him turned around, taking off his socks. Jeff only cocked his head back, not yet noticing the new form his son had taken.

"You need something bud?" he said, before turning his head further and seeing the green apparition that his Charlie had become.

"Wh-what the hell? Y-you okay son?" Jeff's mouth was agape, unsure of how to react. He felt his nose crinkle as a more intense version of Charlie's ripe musk wafted into his nostrils unwelcomed.

"Don't know what happened daddio. Dozed off and woke up like this."

"Ch-Charlie! The fuck happened!? Go take a fucking shower son this ain't normal!"

Charlie flinched at that idea. "Why dad? I smell fucking great. And you do too..." He noticed the green stink lines emanating from his dad's pits, feet and below his waistband.

"The fuck are you talking about Charlie?" Jeff said, taking a step back as his jock son inched forward.

"Mind if I try something dad?" In a split second, Charlie pounced at Jeff, completely covering him in his green gas and slimey body.

Jeff struggled to breathe as he felt his nose and mouth getting caked in his son's ripe musk, forcibly pushing itself down his throat and up his nostrils. He lifted his arms up beyond his control as Charlie's gaseous slimey form started to ooze into his armpits.

Charlie could only laugh as he felt his ghostly body enter and take control of his dad through every single entrance he could find. Jeff didn't even notice his son slipping down his pants and pumping into his c*ck and sweaty asshole.

"CH-CHAR-guhhh" Jeff managed to moan out as the ectoplasmic form of his son's head gurgled down into his throat. At this point, Jeff could only see green in his vision.

"Gonna have so much fun stinking up your body dad!" Charlie yelled from inside Jeff's head.

The father and son, now sharing a body, stumbled to the ground, wet and slimey. Jeff let out a moan as he felt the last of the goo sink into his dirty asshole with a "POP". The man slumped over for a second before...

...

Jeff opened his eyes and cracked his neck with a smirk. He lifted up his arm and took a deep whiff of his day-old pit scent, unnatural green gas wafting out and musking the entire room.

"Mmmmmm smells even better with his nose" he cooed. He scratches at his pits then took a curious sniff before letting out an uncharacteristic moan of pleasure. "Fuck yeah that's the stuff."

Jeff got up and stuck a hand into his wranglers, rummaging around his fabric-covered balls and taint before rubbing the same hand all over his beard.

"Shiiit daaaad. You smell better than me!" Charlie chuckled with his dad's voice.

He walked up to the shower in his dad's en suite bathroom, reaching inside and turning off the water.

Once again, Charlie lifted up his dad's beefy arms and spoke:

Fin

[morsmortish]

i’ve missed yapping about bartylily so here’s the thoughts i’ve been thinking lately:

lily evans finally has the earth-shattering realisation at 19 that maybe there’s more to life than colour coding notes and smiling at everyone and pretending to be so goddamn perfect all the time just to please others. she’s much to afraid to do anything about this, but you know what? she privately decides she’s allowed to let loose (in the most minuscule ways possible). she allows herself to maybe start trying to feeling a tad more alive.

for one, she starts shoplifting. just small things: drugstore makeup, a diet coke, a cheap pair of earrings. things she doesn’t need, but the thrill of walking through those glass doors, the anticipation of whether or not the alarms will go off, whether or not the cameras have caught her, whether or not she’s going to be stopped…yeah, the way her heart starts beating really fast, the way she goes hot all over? maybe THAT is what life should be about.

enter barty, who had that same Maybe I Don’t Have To Live Up To Everyone’s Expectations All The Time epiphany as well, but at 17 and to a much greater degree. he DID blow his whole life up- dropped out of school, got tatted and pierced all over, started flaunting his substance abuse, made his father unspeakably ashamed. he’s working as a bored security guard in a chain store drugstore, but the kind that sits in the room at the back with his feet on the desk starting absently at the cameras as he hits his vape and swivels on his chair.

barty being the unnerving genius he is, naturally notices lily’s Little Habit as she stops by the store every few days, and he recognises her through the screen as that one girl in the year above him who wore those cute little pleated skirts and always carried a light blue notepad and hang on didn’t she used to go out with regulus’s boyfriend? barty could swear that someone mentioned she was valedictorian as well at some point, but christ, when did she get so fucking hot?

he doesn’t report her for stealing at least a hundred quid’s word of stuff. of course he doesn’t. he just takes a mental note of every single thing she ‘borrows’ and starts to get excited every day at the prospect of seeing her again, just through a screen. he watches her every single time she comes in, making the effort to actually kick his legs off the table and lean in to the screen to get a better view. he even starts looping the footage of her over and over when she’s not there, and he can’t help but laugh at how terrible she is at shoplifting. he also can’t help but find it cute.

yeah, maybe one day he’ll work up the courage to go speak to her, maybe blurt out a comprehensive list of every item she’s stolen, watch that pretty blush break out across her freckled cheeks. or maybe he’ll be content with sitting back in his fuckass swivel chair, fiddling with his belt loops and resisting the urge to stick his hand down his pants as he watches that goddamn redhead pretend to roam the aisle of fucking boots every day.

[muddyorbsblr]

a sizing mishap

See my full list of works here!

This story (and in turn this entire collection) wouldn't have happened if I weren't inspired by this comment from the amazing @lokischambermaid. Thank you for the thot!! 💖🫡

Summary: You hand Player #6 his uniform but it's the wrong size…

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: 18+ | smut-ish at the end (minors & pearl clutchers, don't try me. not today); language; side-eye worthy behavior from less than minor character at the beginning [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: trust the process, and let me know if you caught on to the hints 😉

It was slowly and surely getting a touch too stuffy in this tiny room you were stationed in for the day. You knew that it was the misfortune that would befall the newbie on the crew but it didn't ease your frustration any. No amount of guzzled water or time spent holding your handheld fan down your shirt could help the fact that the entire room felt like you were slowly being cooked sous vide.

And as if your predicament wasn't uncomfortable and mentally taxing enough, you had to do an inordinate amount of moving about from scouring through the piles of jerseys and shorts to hand off to the various players because most of them hadn't even bothered to fill out the order forms with their size weeks prior to today. To make things even more interesting, some of the men thought themselves charmers and attempted to flirt with you while you were already under enough undue stress.

Your therapist was definitely going to hear about your exchange with that former tatted up boybander who answered your question of "Size, Sir?" with an overconfident "More than big enough for you, luv."

At least you were proud of your deadpanned response of "Somehow I highly doubt that" that made him grumble out his actual answer of "Medium". Another uninterested look that carefully examined his torso and legs and you made the executive decision to hand him some sets in a size XS instead.

"This isn't a Medium. Can you even read?" he snapped at you, waving the uniforms in his clenched fist.

"It's your size, sir," you shot back, your tone still deadpanned and unwavering despite the temper he was showcasing. "If you don't believe me you're more than free to try it on behind that curtain there. If I'm wrong then I will gladly assist you and hand you a set in the next size up."

It only took a few minutes for him to stomp behind the curtain, try on the uniform, and then stomp all the way out of the tiny room without another word. Guess you handed him the correct size after all.

You had a few minutes to breathe after that first wave of players walked through, allowing you to prepare yourself for the sweat-inducing task of moving about the piles once again when the next batch came in and told you they didn't input their sizes, either. At this point, you jokingly told yourself that you'd outright kiss the first one who actually had a size next to their name on the sheet.

"Name?" you called out when you heard the door open again, already facing the surplus of extra unlabeled uniforms to thumb through the piles.

"Douglas," the woman answered, chuckling when you let out a sigh of relief finding a size next to her name on the chart. "I take it some of my teammates didn't give you their sizes in the form?"

"Try nearly all of them so far," you huffed to confirm. "It's been so bad that I was telling myself that I'd kiss the first person who actually had a size next to their name on this damn thing." You waved the printed papers of the chart around to punctuate your point, making her laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"Well I think you'd be better off saving that promise for the one coming after me, assuming that he filled out the sizing form. Trust me, you'll probably want to pass on lil ol' me. Then again he might not be up for it considering he does have a very pretty lass that--come to think of it, from what I know about her, kind of looks like you…?"

"Now I'm intrigued," you teased, turning around to the comparatively small pile of labeled uniforms and handed her the one with "DOUGLAS" written on the top. "There you go. Good luck out there."

"Thanks. And good luck to you too it's like a brazen bull in here, bloody fuck."

You waved her off, already holding your tiny fan down your shirt again and just trying to take deep, slow breaths to try and lower your body temperature somewhat. The sound of the door opening again nearly had you whining to any deity listening to give you at least fifteen minutes to cool down before having to deal with another conveniently forgetful soul. "Name?" you all but sighed out.

The effort it took for you to fight back a face splitting grin at the name and buttery smooth voice that reached your ears should have gotten you some form of accolade in the realm of sheer Herculean level restraint. "Hiddleston."

You perused the charts, pursing your lips to keep yourself stoic upon seeing that the field beside his name was, in fact, not blank. "Just a moment, Sir." There was a very faint mumbling coming from the towering man a few feet from you while you retrieved his uniforms from the pile of labeled bundles, an expression nearly as stoic as your own on his face when you handed him the parcel. "There you go."

He gave you a soft smile, holding you captive in an oceanic gaze that you had to practically pry yourself away from and at least pretend to busy yourself with the paperwork on the little desk.

Suddenly all the bravado you had facing all those hubristic men from earlier melted away, as if karma had literally deflated it out of you as some warped retaliation for your earlier behavior. He didn't even have to do fuck all anything and you could feel your pulse skyrocketing and your body overheating that had nothing to do with the current climate of the even more seemingly cramped and overcrowded room.

But then he spoke.

"Erm…I truly hate to be a bother but…this isn't the correct size."

Your eyes snapped up to meet his, showing him your visible shock. "That--That can't be. This came straight from the suppliers, they're the ones that labeled these all."

"I understand that but…these are a size Small. I distinctly remember leaving instructions for y--For my partner to input a Medium."

Another look through the chart had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. "It…it says Small," you choked out, visibly struggling to meet his eyes again. "I'm--I'm so sorry, let me see what I can do, I'll make a few calls and-and--"

"No no no, hey hey…" he called out, placing the parcel back on the table before placing his hands on your arms in a gentle hold. "Calm down. It's alright, just breathe." He started running his hands up and down your arms, the motion calming you almost instantly, before sneaking a glance at your little nameplate on the table. "Y/N, just breathe for me, sw--Breathe for me, alright?"

The motions of his hands began to guide you through your breathing, feeling your racing pulse begin to mellow down. "I'm--really sorry about that, it's just I'm new here and this is gonna get me in some serious trouble if I end up fumbling and blundering like--"

"You're going to be alright, it's not that big of a deal, really," he told you in a reassuring tone, squeezing your shoulders lightly before letting go and picking up his jerseys and shorts again. "It's only one size down, I'll make it fit." His free hand twitched toward you briefly, some bizarre part of you instinctively itching to reach for him in turn, but your more rational mind decided against it and sat back on your little seat.

"There's something off about you," you rambled, shuffling the papers of the chart once more and reaching for a pen. "You're way too understanding and mild-mannered for this industry."

He hesitated before taking the pen from you, holding your hand in his as he asked, "Would you mind if I tried it on? Just to be sure." There was the slightest twitch in his eye, as if he was about to wink before he made the split second decision not to, and all you could do at that moment was look up at him with the most foolishly dumbstruck look on your face.

"N-Not at all. Go--Go right ahead, there's a curtain over--Ohh okay then that…works…too," you mumbled to near incoherence as he proceeded to undo the buttons on his thicker overshirt, shrugging the garment onto the floor before giving his light blue button down the same treatment.

Get a hold of yourself. Pick your jaw off the ground you're embarrassing yourself, you hissed inwardly, reminding yourself that you were about to be in the presence of a lot of shirtless men this entire weekend throughout all the practices and promotional events, not to mention the game itself on Sunday. But none of those guys look like this. Look like a literal god among men.

All the while he never broke eye contact with you, holding you hostage in a stormy gaze as if daring you to look away while he effortlessly pierced through the plastic that contained the jerseys. You did your best not to fixate your eyes on the sinewy, well-defined muscles that were moving fluidly with every minute movement of his hands, holding his gaze with all the confidence you could muster.

He made a show of unfolding the shirt in slow, deliberate movements, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a smirk when he noted the visible movement of your neck from a strained effort in swallowing and calming yourself. It was only then that he put the shirt over his head in one fluid motion, the fabric stretching taut across his chest and threatening to burst at even the most minute flex of muscle.

The internet is about to have a field day and I am about to get kicked out of this committee, you thought to yourself. And on your first year, no less. You should've known it was a bad idea to agree to the invitation just because your boyfriend encouraged you to.

"It's not too bad, is it?" He swung his arms around to test his range of motion, before raising his hands above his head in a stretch, causing the borderline illegally tight fabric  to ride up on his abdomen, exposing his lower stomach.

You could barely hold in your composure as you choked out, "It looks…manageable." You held out your pen in his direction again. "You just uhm…need to sign on the chart."

He approached you with a certain sway to his step that vaguely reminded you of a wolf stealthily assessing its prey, fingers slowly brushing across your skin as he took the pen from your hand and uncapped the pen by placing the cap between his teeth. When he finished signing his name on the chart, his eyes never left yours as he recapped the pen and placed it back into your hand, his large palm engulfing your entire hand in a warmth you couldn't even bother to complain about despite the stale humid air of the room.

"There you are, darling," he rasped. "No harm done. You won't get into any trouble with your superiors because of me, don't you worry your lovely little head." You watched with bated breath as he turned around and bent at the waist to pick up the discarded shirts, putting that ass that the internet shamelessly thirsts over and stares at for hours on end mere feet before your naked eyes.

I have no idea if my job is cursed or if it might just be the best thing that ever happened to me, you thought helplessly to yourself, watching as he stood back upright and turned again to face you, giving you a small wave as he exited the room.

You fought the urge to hold your tiny fan down your pants after that exchange.

The sound of your phone chiming with a new message brought you out of your stupor, a smile finding its way onto your face as soon as you saw your boyfriend's name on the screen.

"Are you alright? Have you eaten since you got there? Make sure you're drinking lots of water, I hear it's going to be sweltering today. I love you and I miss you already, goddess."

Just the mere thought of how he'd taken the time to type out the message despite how busy you knew he was had you biting your lip to try even slightly to prevent yourself from letting out a stream of giggles like you were back in school all over again. You could feel the ache in your heart as you began to feel your own yearning beginning to intensify after his message.

"I just have a few more people to hand off their uniforms to and then I'll go get some food. Thank you for checking in on me. I love you and I miss you more than you know."

The rest of the day was thankfully a bit more merciful towards you. Once you'd handed out all the uniforms and put all the surplus jerseys and shorts into a merch pile for audience members to purchase before entering the stadium proper and perhaps have the players sign at the end of the game, the hours up until training was over were spent outdoors coordinating with press photographers, making sure that security was on peak alertness in case anyone managed to sneak through the cracks, and confirming that everything was in place for some hot sauce challenge that would take place tomorrow.

You also made a note to take one of those bottles home since you were running low. Only if you could, of course.

When the fields were empty and you were locking down the press room for the night, you heard someone walk into the otherwise quiet room. "I had the most interesting conversation with some of the other players today." The sound of the man's rich, velvety voice had your heart violently pounding in your chest. "About you."

You took a few steadying breaths before you addressed your unexpected visitor, your back still turned to him as you finished writing down the names on the media passes for tomorrow morning. "And what is it that I can do for you, Mr. Hiddleston?"

The sound of his footsteps slowly approaching you had a thrill running up your spine, making you abruptly stand to attention when you felt large hands rest on your waist. "One of them told me about how you were tempted to…what was it again? Ah yes…you said something about kissing the first player that actually had their size on the chart?" You bit back a smile, looking out the window to double check that nobody was lurking and trying to peer into the room as he wrapped his arms around your waist. "Now Douglas told me that allegedly it was her, and she passed it on to whoever came next. And if memory serves me right…I believe that would mean that immensely fortunate player was…myself."

He'd leaned in so close at this point that his lips were grazing the shell of your ear. "This is highly unprofessional," you mumbled, barely able to contain your smile now.

"I don't care. I've been thinking about you all day." Fingers ghosted up the length of your spine while his nose traced a line from the shell of your ear down to a very specific weak spot on the juncture between your neck and shoulder. You went nearly limp in his hold the second you felt him press a soft kiss to that same spot, his free hand deftly undoing the ribbon you had holding your hair up before weaving his fingers through your hair. "Take this as me officially breaking character. I've missed you, goddess."

The groan he let out against your skin turned you into putty in your boyfriend's arms. "One day," you giggled out. "You lasted barely one day."

Over the last few years since you'd gotten together, whenever you were both signed on to a project, you tried to commit to this bit of "staying private and professional" throughout the course of the project, so as to not draw too much attention to the fact that you were involved. It had come to the point where it collectively slipped the mind of the general public that you two were actually still, in fact, happily together and borderline maddeningly in love. And it also granted you both a comfortable enough sense of privacy, which you were immensely grateful for and neither of you ever dared take for granted.

On previous projects, he would 'break character' within the course of a few hours, and you had a feeling that the only reason it took him nearly a day this time around was that you two weren't around each other as much due to him practicing for the game, and you running around the entire facility.

"I have to be honest, though," you started, letting out a squeal as he abruptly turned you around in his arms to face him, pulling your body flush against his. "For a second there I thought this would be a first and I would break character. This afternoon." It was a good thing that he was currently holding you upright with the way he was looking at you through hooded eyes, his chest heaving through that one size too gloriously small shirt; if you were left to stand on your own, your knees would've buckled the second he touched you. "If you kept up that goddamn striptease for even two more seconds I might have caved."

He smirked at you when you a tiny yelp slipped through your lips as he placed his hands on the backs of your thighs and easily lifted you into his arms. "I'll have to try a bit harder next time," he whispered, walking until you felt your back make contact with the wall. "I believe you owe me a kiss, sweetheart."

You crossed your hands behind his neck, leaning in to give him the quickest peck to his lips. "There you are," you teased, letting out a stream of giggles against his lips when he grabbed the back of your head and pressed you against the wall before pulling you in for a deeper kiss. He let out a desperate sounding moan into your mouth as his arm around you tightened and his fingers tangled into your hair. As if he couldn't possibly get enough of you. Or as if you hadn't seen each other for months.

"Where are you staying?" he rasped when he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath.

"I have a room that I'm sharing with 2 more members from the committee--"

"That won't do," he cut you off, pressing his lips to your jaw and kissing a trail down your neck. "You're staying with me. I already despise the mornings that I wake up away from you, it's cruel and unusual punishment if I go to sleep tonight alone knowing full well that you're here in another room." You stifled a moan when he proceeded to suck a bruise onto your neck, already anticipating the questions from your fellow committee members in the morning when they catch sight of it.

"I uhh--ohh fuck--I'll need to get my things," you stammered, leaning your head back and arching into his kiss to expose more of your neck to him. "My clothes--"

"You won't need them, darling," he retorted, smirking against your skin when you let out a squeak trying to feign protest against his words. "Say yes," he pleaded between kisses. "Stay with me." He kissed his way up to the corner of your mouth. "Don't deny me the simplest joy of getting to wake up with you in my arms."

Those were the words that did you in. "Okay, okay yes," you breathed out, your moan muffled by him once again capturing your lips in a kiss that threatened to steal you of every last breath you had left.

Neither of you seemed to care in the slightest if you crossed paths with anyone on your way to his suite, Tom adorably refusing to let your feet touch the ground as he carried you down the halls. "There was one more thing that some of the players mentioned…Something about you being able to assess their sizes and giving them their correct fitting instead of the size that they told you they were?"

Dammit, the boybander told on me, you grumbled to yourself, meeting your boyfriend's gaze with your worst attempt at an innocent smile. "Aaaand…what about it?"

"You've known my measurements since they sent in the roster form," he started with a knowing smirk, causing you to purse your lips and basically out yourself that you knew exactly where he was going with this.

"I did…"

"Did you intentionally input the wrong size?"

Biting your lip before letting out a fit of near uncontrollable giggles told him more than a spoken admission ever could. "I might have…"

"And I would also be right to assume you had everything to do with the swapped out trousers in my bag?"

Your giggles got louder, practically giving the entire floor a homing beacon signal to where you were, take one look at your current positions, and give them a vivid idea of what type of noises they would expect to hear throughout the night.

"I had to do it," you managed to say between laughs. "For Tumblr."

You held on to him a bit tighter when he went to unlock his door, pressing the keycard to the scanner and balancing you on a single arm, and giving him the perfect opportunity to kiss yet another particularly sensitive spot behind your ear. He let out a seductively dark chuckle against your skin when your giggles had morphed into moans.

"Naughty little goddess," he rasped, tracing his lips along your shirt's neckline as he laid you down on the bed and then proceeding to kiss a path down your clothed torso until he reached the hem of your shirt. His hands traveled up your body, working the fabric up and over your head, kissing and licking and biting at a leisurely pace at every sliver of skin that was exposed to him.

Once the shirt was up to your raised hands, he hovered his face above yours, capturing your lips in another languid, decadent kiss that had you sighing against him as a warm contentment washed over you. You'd only realized now how much you actually missed him since having to leave your home yesterday to come here and begin preparations with the rest of the committee. All day you were so caught up with finalizing every meticulous detail you had control over it was almost like your mind didn't allow you to feel how much you were yearning.

"What am I going to do with you, my darling little menace?" he murmured against your lips, your combined moans filling the room as he licked into your mouth, your tongues meeting in a tangle long practiced and perfected over the years. You quickly tossed your shirt aside to free your hands and pull him closer, giving him the perfect leeway to unclasp your bra.

"Whatever you want," you gasped once you both pulled away, the silliest grins on both your faces as your hands fumbled for the hem of his jersey. "I love you and I've missed you more than you know."

"Shouldn't have said that, my love," he growled, pushing you back down on the bed so that your back was flat against the mattress, a near filthy moan escaping you when he hooked your legs around him and rolled his hips into yours. "There's a lot of pent up energy in me." He proceeded to summarize what he'd spent the day doing, punctuating each item with a thrust of his hips. "Running." Thrust. "Dribbles." Thrust. "Shooting drills." Thrust. "Endorphins are running amok. You understand, don't you, darling?"

"Let me repeat myself," you said breathlessly, crossing your ankles and pulling his hips to yours and making him let out the most delicious stuttered moan. "You can do whatever you want."

A/N: Suddenly those reblogs I did of 'one look and they'll know' are making sense, huh? 😉😈 Welcome to the Soccer Aid 2023 Hiddles collection! As of writing this Author's Note, there are going to be 5 stories in this collection, the next one being 'a tale of ice baths and hot sauce' which covers the Elementals challenge video, and I'm already working on it as we speak. 🫠

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-zie @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @sarahscribbles @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @dangertoozmanykids101 @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee

[galaxyedging]

@sp00kymulderr I made a thing for your Dick Pronoun Fic Challenge.

Max Phillips x f!reader.

WC:1.3k

Warnings: some brief smut. Mainly rude words.

Summary: Max tried to tempt you into making a very specific appointment with him.

Coffee Cup Coupling

After Halloween, Thanksgiving and with the lead up to Christmas, the call centre was quiet. It was too early for last minute panic buying of the useless, overpriced tat that you were pushing. 

The peace in the office gave you time to work on some other contracts that you had been pursuing for the company in the hopes of getting the permanent manager job currently being temporarily filled by corporate’s hot shot, Max Phillips.

Max had won most of the team over, but you remain sceptical. Sure, he was charming and capable in his role. You could see how people may find him attractive. Maybe, if you were honest with yourself, you could find him attractive, too. Maybe the latent attraction was what prompted your late night confession to your best friend.

“I'm not interested in a setup.” You sigh, letting your tired body sag into your office chair. “I don't want a boyfriend. I could do with a casual fling, though.” You mused aloud. 

Your bestie’s response is lost to your attention as you hear something in the darkness outside your office door.

“I gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow. Bye.” The phone in your hand is forgotten before you hear a response. “Hello?” You call into the darkness.

Anxiety and years of watching horror movies kick in as you approach your open office door. You mentally scold your active imagination as your throat tightens with each step. Just as you approach the threshold, someone steps forward and scares the shit out of you.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you.” Max laughs, standing in front of you with two mugs of crappy office coffee. “I just thought I'd check if you needed anything. Coffee?”

Once you swallow your heart back to its original position, you decline the coffee. “The coffee here sucks.”

Max smiles widely, showing all his teeth. “Yeah. I can think of better things to drink.” He set the mugs down on your file cabinet. “If I can't help you with that, maybe I can help with your other issue?”

“Other issue?” You search your memory for any issues around the office, coming up blank. You ask Max to elaborate.

“Your need for casual sex. I'm more than happy to schedule a dick appointment. After all, a happy workforce is a productive workforce.”

He says it as if he's offering to get you a new toner for your copier.

After a moment of being dumbfounded, you answer him. “No. I don't need a Dick Appointment with you, Max. If anything, you can get me a decent coffee in the morning.” You give him a tired quirk of your lips as you leave for home.

The next morning, a hot cup of black coffee is sitting on your desk with Max’s elegant scroll across it.

‘If you don't fancy a Dick Appointment, how about a Member Meeting?’. Catching his eye from his office on the other side of the hallway, you sigh and shake your head. 

Taking a sip, you fire off a quick email to him. ‘I take it with milk and sugar.’

He quirks an eyebrow before replying. ‘I figured you'd like to take it hot and strong this morning’.

The next morning, the smell of sugary sweet tinge bitterness hits you. The cup has ‘How about a Phallus Function?' scrawled on it this time.

‘No. Way too much sugar. I only take two’ is the emailed response.

On Thursday the perfect coffee is waiting with the less than perfect words ‘How about a Cock Cookout?’ on the side.

Friday’s coffee reads ‘How about a Weenie Weekend?’.

Saturday’s coffee says ‘How about a Pecker Party?’

Monday and Tuesday's morning coffees are message free and taken in your own home as you come down with a cold.

Wednesday’s cup is emblazoned with ‘How about a Peter Powwow?’. It is filled with hot, sweet tea with lemon.

‘No, coffee?’ you email.

‘Lemon helps with colds’ comes the reply that you think about for way too long that day.

Thursday cup is an immune system boosting blend with ‘How about a Shaft Social?’ on the side. 

‘Vitamin infused tea?’ you query.

‘You need to be in good shape to handle my massive cock.’ you see him shrug as he sends it.

On Friday, you doubt you'll see a cup waiting for you as the snow shuts down some of the local area. You are presently surprised to find a hot chocolate topped with marshmallows and cream. Less surprising and pleasant is the note ‘How about a Prick Parade?’

Saturday rolls around again meaning you are only in the office for a few hours yet there sits a cup. ‘How about a Shaft Social?’

Monday follows a night of drinking for a coworkers birthday. The coffee is a welcome sight. In your delicate condition even the message makes you smile. ‘How about a Tool Tea?’

The first sip burns in more ways than one. As you raise your head with a questioning look, your computer chimes. 

‘Hair of the dog. I told you, I need you in good condition. It really is a fucking huge cock.

The cup hides your second smile.

Tuesday's offering is a fancy caramel coffee. ‘How about a Johnson Jolly?’

‘Caramel?’ you type with one hand as you drink in the flavour.

‘You ate them from the chocolates in the staff room.’ comes the reply.

Wednesday brings ‘How about a Manhood Match Up?’ Along with another fancy concoction.

‘This isn't an Americano.’ You lick the foam from your lips.

‘I'm running out of euphemisms. I have to up my game somehow.’ His own tongue mirrors the movement of yours.

Thursday is another foam topped extravaganza. ‘How about a Schlong Shindig?’

Friday is the same with ‘How about a Willy Weekend?’

Saturday brings the office party and not one but two coffees. One when you arrive ‘How about a Wood Wooing?’ and another when you retreat to your office to freshen up for drinks. ‘How about a Length Luau?’

Max closes his door and removes his jacket. It gets tossed on his office sofa followed by his tie. His shirt is half undone when the knock comes at his door. He instantly regrets not putting the mistletoe up on the door frame as you stand there.

“Hey.” He greets trying his best to sound casual as his cock thickens at the thought that he has finally worn you down. He stops at half mast when he sees you have just brought him a cup of crappy punch.

“Here I was hoping you were here for you Massive Cock….er…” he struggles for a word he hasn't used before.

“No more Dick Appointment alternatives, please! Here.” you hand his punch in a red cup.

“Fine.” he lets out a defeated sigh before taking a sip of his drink. “Urgh. This might even be more disappointing than not getting laid.’ 

“Aw, maybe this will cheer you up.” you reach for his cup, turning it in his hand to reveal the note on the side. ‘How about a Vagina Visit?’

Cheap rum punch soaks into the carpet as Max tossed both cups so you can get your hands on each other. Your hands grab his ass and his thick bicep while he grips your thigh and tit through your dress. His full lips work their way up to that sweet spot behind your ear until he pauses. “Out of interest, which phrase did it for you?” 

“It was the beverage choices and how sweet they were. Maybe you're not a complete ass. Although pausing to ask that….” Max seeks to correct his misstep by kissing you deeply. Moments later, when you gasp finally taking his cock, and almost choking it in the process, Max is glad he didn't have to resort to Dang Dalliance or Erection Engagement.

[asegunda]

Special Invention

PJO

Pairing: Platonic! Leo Valdez x Deaf! GN! Reader

Summary: Leo meets someone special, in lots of ways. Warnings: Too much fluff, remember I warned you.

Notes: I did one of those trop generators HAHAHA and it got 'disableid' so I thought of this! Hope you like it. ❤️

Another shiny day at Camp Half-Blood, not that Leo knew that it was shiny since he was working on some 'awesome' new machine, not even barely eating. But this wasn't unusual, Piper already passed in the cabin 9 cabin and bunker some 10 times today.

The only time he takes his eyes out of the work is when one of the Athena kids calls him and tells that Chiron wants to talk with him.He wonders what could it be...he and the rest of his cabin didn't bomb or put fire this week in anything...still, but they still didn't!

As he enters the room, Chiron is in his 'wheel chair mode', Leo always loved how tat machine was, his mimd starts to wander around until he hears a cough sound, he looks at Chiron again.

"You can sit Leo." Chiron smiles at him and points at the chair, he sits and messes with his fingers."So...I'm guessing you want to know why you're here." Chiron starts. Duh, Leo thinks but doesn't say anything just says a yes."So I don't know if you heard about the last mission here at camp."

He continues and Leo tries to remember but it just comes in a blank.

"Well, by that reaction I guess you don't..." Chiron nods to himself and sighs. "Well, it was a mission to rescue a new demigod and...it didn't go very well, the demigod was on a school trip to an airplane museum..."

"Wow, that sounds cool!" Leo smiles."Well, yeah it is cool, but remember when I said that the mission didn't fo very well?" He tells.Leo didn't even remember but he nods."Well, a monster apeared and...the demigod-" Chiron says and is interrupted."Is dead?" Leo asks but feels dumb the moment he says seeing the look on Chiron face."No. Thank the Gods for that." He says. "But...the fight with the monster damaged a lot of plains and well with the gasoline and the coal-" He is interrupted again."It exploded right?" Leo says, more an affirmation than a question. "Yes, unfortunately yes." Chiron sighs. "And the demigod we rescued, Y/N, became...deaf by the explosion." Chiron says looking at the papers at his table."Yeah, you were right it's not cool anymore." Leo sighs. "And why am I here?" "I would like for you and the Hephestus cabin to try to build a machine to make atleast the situation better. And while it isn't ready, try to think of a way to help Y/N communicate that isn't an notebook, we don't want no one uncomfortable, even more when something so unfortunate occurred."Leo nods. "I see. We are going to try our best!" He smiles and Chiron smiles too. "Thank you Leo, really."

Leo nods again and gets out of the place."Well, more work to do..." He sighs and goes to tell the news to the rest of the cabin.

1.

The first time he meets Y/N it's in the infirmary, almost all of the beds are full because it was Saturday, wich means that yesterday it was the Capture the Flag.

Leo sighs trying to find the known blonde, as he sees he goes to him."Hey Will!" He smiles to the Apollo child.

He looks at Leo, and the first thing Leo notices it's that he is pale, really pale, but he still smiles at Leo.

"Leo! What brings you here?" He asks.

"Hmm, a kind of mission if you get me." He winks, but Will just looks at him with a confused face and Leo explains it that he talked to Chiron about the new kid.

"Oh Y/N! Poor kid..really, so suddenly...well we can't do nothing can we? Just give our best support.." He sighs.

"Well actually that is why I am here, Chiron wants my cabin to build a machine to help." He smiles."That is great, come I'm gonna show you where Y/N is." He starts walking towards a more quiet corner where you can see a figure looking at the window watching other campers play volleyball.

"Hope it works." Will gives him a thumbs up and goes help an Hermes kid at another bed.

He walks to the bed and sits in a chair across the bed.

You jump in suprise as you see him."What do you want?" You say and point at a 'Big Hero 6' notebook at the drawer.

Leo takes it and the pen. 'Chiron sent me'. He gives it to you and you read it, as you finish you look at him.

"And?" You ask. You give him the notebook again. Now he writes all the talk he had with Chiron, as you read it you look at him again.

"Would you do that for me?" You ask again.Leo nods and you smile at him.

"Well...what are you going to teach me while that machine isn't ready?" You tell him and Leo smile fades, he didn't thought about it and didn't even learn nothing to help you. He tries to think of something fast, he doesn't want you to think he is a loser. He then remembers his mother but he puts that idea aside.

You start looking at him confused and he gives up.

He takes the 'Big Hero 6' and writes something, he sighs.

"Morse code? You know it?" You sound really excited, not that you could hear your own entusiasm.

Leo nods and you smile.

He writes again: 'How about we start now?' He smiles at you and you do too.

2.

The machine still isn't ready...months later, but Leo knows it will be awesome and you will love it, he gets up of his work chair and gets out of bunker 9.

He goes to the strawberry field when he sees you. He sits by your side and you smile at him.'Prepared for our class?' He says and you nod.

You go with him to the infirmary, because it looks like it's the only quiet place outside the empty cabins.

Will smiles as he sees you both.

This was already your 15th class, not that you were counting of course.You two continue like this and at the end of the day Leo gives you a candy.

'It's from Will's cup for the patients but I don't think he needs it.' He says in morse code and he winks at you.

"Thanks." You say both loudly and in morse code and you eat the sweet.

3.

The machine is finaly ready! Leo thinks, you are going to love it.He goes to you and says that he wants you to see something.

You think if it is the machine and you are starting to get excited. As you enter cabin 9 with him you just can think of two things: the machine and the dirty mess that the cabin is. You ignore the second and look at Leo, as he makes a drum sound, you can't hear it but he tells you later that it was supposed to be drums.He takes out of his back a machine kind of looking like headphones you look at it and Leo makes morse code: 'Try it!'You smile and put it in your head. At first nothing happens but after you can hear Leo say: 1, 2 and 3 does it work?"It works!" You hug him and he smiles at you."Pffft. I knew it would work." He says smirking, didnt you know that he tried to give up 3 times, all of them he didn't because it was you who needed them.You smirk at him too."Leo." You start.

"Yes?" He asks.

"You sound weird." You say and Leo remembers that you never heard his voice before, it looks like he knew you for his whole life but it was just some months.

"You're not getting a swett today." He says nodding in disaproval.

"Leo!" You pout and he smiles.

Later you get the candy after some more pounting and Leo tells you that the machine has a secret sticker, you wonder what it is and he shows you.

It is a 'Big Hero 6' sticker, like the image from your notebook, you chuckle and he does too.

[sintiva]

i needed inspo to finish my sext!armin piece and i think this was motivation, content: chubby reader, black coded, handy!!!!!!

sex therapist!armin who teaches you the right way to give someone a handy. he’s been a friend for a long time so you weren’t opposed to coming to him for sex advice, but it happened sooner than later. all it took was one shitty, old man ex of yours to make you come running to armin for help. but then that help turned a little more than you expected. one of you was falling for someone’s charm, and it felt like you. falling to the safe trance that armin could so easily manipulate into you. telling you that you’ll only get bet better with practice - with him being the only source of said practice.

then it was the first time that your pretty, tatted chubby hands wrapped around his dick, and he was thinking of more ways to keep you all too himself. it’s the way your squared, baby blue acrylics clacked as you figured out how to properly grip him without hurting him. it’s the way how he coached you through it, “don’t be scared of the tip,” he’d whisper, and you pucker those soft, pillowy, plumpy lips, dripping with lust. then press it to his tip, sucking and licking it as you pulled away, “kiss it for me one more time with those pretty lips, babe.” his words tend to stick, the more aroused he grows. they make your thighs squeeze and they make you grip him a bit harder. his words, a previous line of instruction, now emulate urges he’s been holding back.

but when he gets selfish and coaches you to the point where he’s about to cum, his thighs spread and he’s gripping himself with your hand beneath his. he’s squeezing tight, and bucking his hips up into your pleasure-able, but unskilled hands. it’s the way his cum shoots up and drips all in between you all’s fingers. it’s how you look him the eyes, winged liner, with wispy lashes that fluttered as you slurped his sticky treat off your fingers, then his next. then back to his tip, sucking off whatever little bit of cum managed to dribble out of his tip. then you’re rising off your knees; gifting him the softest smooch and thanking him for being so nice and kind to you, “bye , bye min! i’ll see you tomorrow. let me know if there’s anything you’d wanna see me in tomorrow.”

[constellationguy]

Another perspective

Halloween Special

"Text: regular talking

'Text': regular thinking

"Text": Saiki talking telepathically

'Text': Saiki thinking

Summary: Class 3 puts on a Halloween play, an adaptation of the Corpse Bride.

ATTENTION! You might want to read the last few episodes of Another Perspective to fully understand the characters and/or rewatch the movie Corpse Bride before reading to fully understand the events.

Red: Y/N’s mother

Orange: Y/N’s father + lord Barkus

Green: Saiki’s father + singing skeleton

Blue: Kokomi + kokomi’s mother

Purple: Y/N

Pink: Saiki

Another Perspective Halloween Special:

The Corpse Groom

Act one begins in a gray, poor ish looking town.

“Here ye here ye! Ten minutes until the L/N wedding rehearsal!”

“It’s a beautiful day!” “It’s a rather nice day.” “A day for a glorious wedding.”

“A rehearsal my dear, to be perfectly clear.” “A rehearsal for a glorious wedding.”

“Assuming nothing happens that we don’t really know.” “That nothing unexpected interferes with the show.”

“And that’s why everything, every last little thing, every single tiny little microscopic thing little thing must go, according to plan!”

“Our child will be married.” “According to plan.” “Our family carried.”

“Will be brought to the heights of society.”

“To the costume balls,” “in the hallowed halls” “rubbing elbows with the finest.” “Having crumpets with her highness.”

“We’ll be there, we’ll be seen having tea with the queen. We’ll forget everything, that we’ve ever ever been.”

“Where’s Y/N? We might be late.”

The L/N’s leave the stage and the Teruhashi’s walk on.

“It’s a terrible day.” “Now don’t be that way.”

“It’s a terrible day for a wedding.” “It’s a sad sad state of affairs we’re in.” “That had lead to this ominous wedding.”

“How could our family have come to this?”

“To marry off our daughter to the newly rich.”

“They’re so common” “so crass,” “it couldn’t be worse.” “It’s couldn’t be worse? I’m afraid I disagree. They would be penniless without a coin to their name, just like you and me.”

“Oh dear.”

“So that why everything. Every last little thing, every single tiny microscopic little thing must go, according to plan.” “Our daughter we’ll wed.”

“According to plan.” “Our family lead.” “From the depths of dearest poverty. To the noble of our ancestry.” “And who would have guessed in a million years that our daughter would provide our ticket to our rightful place?”

The parents walk off stage and the scene is now set farther in the desolate mansion, where Kokomi was getting dress for the wedding.

“What if Y/N and I don’t like each other?” Kokomi asked.

“Ha! As if that has anything to do with marriage. Do you suppose your father and I like each other? ” Her mother responded.

“Surely you must! A little.”

“Of course not,” the both rebutted.

“Get those corsets laced properly. I can hear you speak without gasping.” Ms Teruhashi said dismissively then everyone walked off stage.

Y/N just finished getting ready and ran into the carriage that would take them to the Teruhashi manor.

“We certainly hope to win her this time Y/N.” “Now all you have to do is reel her in.”

“I’m already reeling mother. Shouldn’t Teruhashi Kokomi be marrying… a lord or something?” Y/N responded plainly.

“Oh nonsense. We’re every bit as good as the Teruhashi’s. I always knew I deserved better than a fish merchant’s life.”

“But, I’ve never even spoken to her.” “Well at least we have that in our favor!”

Going back to the Teruhashi family.

“Marriage is a partnership. A little tit for tat. You think a life time watching us, would have taught her that.” “Everything must be perfect.”

“That’s why everything. Every last little thing, every single tiny microscopic little thing must go, according to plan.” Both sets of parents said.

As the door open to the Teruhashi manor Y/N mother was fussing over them.

“Oh! Oh such gradure! Such impeccable taste. Beautiful innit.” “It’s not as big as our place dear. But shabby it is, isn’t it” “Shut up!”

“Lord and lady Teruhashi, Mr and Ms L/N.”

“Why you must be Ms Victoria. I must say, you don’t look a day over 20.”

“Smile darling smile,” the lord found it hard to do so.

“Well hello, what a pleasure, welcome to our home.”

“We’ll be taking tea in the west drawing room, do come with us.” Both sets of parents set off, leaving Y/N alone in the foyer. However they found a piano, it was in-tune so they decided to play it.

The music was somber but powerful, it flooded the manor and even reach Teruhashi’s doors. Hearing the piano played made her run out of her room to meet the player, but she ended up spooking Y/N.

“Oh do forgive me.” “You play beautifully.” Teruhashi said with a smile.

“Excuse me for the playing, and the mess,” Y/N said awkwardly as they picked up the piano stool that they had knocked over.

“If I may ask, Teruhashi, where is your chaperone?” “In view of the circumstances you could call Kokomi. As tomorrow we are to be married.” “Yes.” Y/N like they had forgotten that fact.

“Since I was a child I’ve dreamt of my wedding day. I always hoped to find someone I was deeply in love with. Silly isn’t it.”

“Silly? No. To our parents? Perhaps. But to me? No. Wanting love isn’t as silly as our parents make it out to be.” Y/N said with charm.

“What sort of impropriety is this?! You shouldn’t be alone together. Here it is, one minute before 5:00 and you’re not at the rehearsal. The pastor is waiting, come at once.” Ms Teruhashi was clearly outraged, shooing everyone off stage as the curtains came down.

There was a small break where the curtains closed as the chapel scene was set for act two.

—————————————————————————

“Again! From the beginning. With this hand I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty for I will be your wine. With this candle I will light your way in darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine. Let’s try it again.” Said the pastor.

“Yes. Yes sir. With! This candle.” The candle did not light when Y/N put to the flames. “With this candle.” Y/N repeated, again it did not light. “This candle,” Y/N said dejected. Y/N tried multiple times to get the candle to light, but it didn’t work. Once it did light Y/N restarted the phrase.

“With this candle!” When Y/N laughed dryly to ease themself the candle blew out. Causing both sets of parents to groan. “Continue!” The pastor said, suddenly the door bell rang and a butler was sent to get it.

“Let’s just pick it up at the candle bit.” Said the pastor. “A lord Barkus sir,” “I haven’t a head for dates, apparently I’m a day early for the ceremony.” Said this supposed lord Barkus.

“Is he from your side of the family?” “I can’t recall, Emil. A seat for lord Barkus.” “Do carry on.”

“Let’s try it again. Shall we Mx L/N” “Yes sir, certainly” They said quietly Teruhashi lit their candle for them.

“Right.” The pastor said with annoyance. “Right. Oh! Right!” Y/N once held the candle in their left hand quickly and cartoonishly put it in their right hand. “With this… this.” “Hand.” “With this hand.” Y/N then hit the table by accident.

“Three steps! Three! Can you not count?” The pastor yelled. “Do you not wish to be married Mx Y/N?” “No! No.” “You do not?” Teruhashi asked.

“No, no. I meant I do not not wish to be married. Which is that I want very much to- Ow!” The pastor hit Y/N with his cane. “Pay attention! Have you even remembered to bring the ring?”

“The ring? Yes of course.” Y/N produced the ring from their breast pocket but it fell from their hand. “Dropping the ring?! This child does not want to get married!” Y/N ran after the ring and grabbed it however Ms Teruhashi’s dress was set on fire by Y/N’s candle. Luckily lord Barkus put out the flame with his drink.

“Enough! This wedding will not take place until this child is properly prepared! Child! Learn. Your. Vows.” The pastor said sternly towards Y/N, with much fear Y/N existed the stage.

“He’s quite the catch, isn’t he.” Said lord Barkus.

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The curtain closed and shuffling was heard as actor left the stage and the back drop was changed again, to a forest, the setting of act three.

“Oh Teruhashi. She must think I’m such a fool.” Y/N said glumly. “This day couldn’t get any worse.”

“Hear ye hear ye! The rehearsal is ruined because L/N child causes chaos!” Y/N could only sigh and walk away from the voice shouting from off stage.

As Y/N walked slowly the background slowly changed,showing Y/N going deeper into a forest.

“It really shouldn’t be all that difficult. It’s just a few simple vows! With this hand I will take your wine- no!” Y/N sounded tired and frustrated but they continued to walk.

“With … this… with this, with this candle I will-”before they even realized, Y/N walked very far, not even recognizing their surroundings.

“I will, set your mother on fire,” Y/N face palmed. “Oh it’s no use…” Y/N paused for a moment, gathering themself.

“With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine. Ah! Ms Teruhashi. You look ravishing this evening.” Y/N said with confidence, holding a tree branch.

“What’s that Mr Teruhashi? Call you dad? If you insist sir.” Y/N said to another tree.

Y/N broke off a small branch before speaking again with vigor and acting out the motions of the vow. “With this candle, I will light your way in darkness! With this ring! I ask you, to be mine!” Y/N said while placing the ring on a hand like branch.”

The sound of wind and crows that was once idol now blared in the speakers as the branch was now moving. And the noise was blaring as the branch grabbed and tugged Y/N’s arm beneath the stage.

Y/N fought with the hand and managed to break free but a skeletal arm still held theirs. Scared at the sight they threw the arm off stage. The hole where the hand looking branch used to be, opened up and someone sprouted from it.

“I do.” The man from the ground replied. He was dressed in a tattered wedding suit and his skin was painted to look decomposing. Y/N gasped and ran away from the newly animated corpse but the groom chased them into the forest and through the graveyard.

Y/N only stopped momentarily when they ran into a tree. But otherwise Y/N was running for their life, fighting trees and brambles to get away.

Once Y/N got to the bridge and the man was out of sight Y/N started to walk and catch their breath. However when they turned around the dead man was right behind them.

The man approached Y/N and held their shoulders gently as he said, “You may kiss the groom,” when he leaned in the curtains closed, signaling the end of act three.

—————————————————————————

When the curtain opened again a skeleton and the tattered groom surrounded Y/N in what but the sound of the place seemed to be a jazz bar.

“A new arrival.” “They must have fainted. Are you alright?” “What, what happened?”

“By Joe man, looks like we’ve got ourselves a breather!” A skeleton said before he was pushed by a blue corpse woman. “Do they have a dead brother?” “They’re still soft!”

Y/N could only whimper was they got up from their place on the floor.

“A drink! To the newly weds!” “Newly weds?” Y/N wondered allowed.

“Ah! In the woods you said your vows so perfectly,” corpse groom said sweetly. “I did? I did!” Y/N said in awe. “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” Banged their head on the bar table to try and wake themselves from what they thought was a dream.

When Y/N stopped they were terrified and started walking through the crowd of skeletons and various bodies before they finally lost it and tried to pick up a sword but ended up also taking the man who the sword was attached to.

“I’ve got a- a dwarf. And I’m not afraid to use him! I want some questions! Now!” “Answers, I think you mean answers,” the man on the sword said. “Thank you, yes answers. I need answers! What’s going on here? Where am I? Who are you?”

“Well, that’s kind of a long story.” “What a story it is, a tragic tale of romance, passion, and a murder most foul.” “This is going to be good,” the sword man addressed Y/N before they dropped him.

“Hit it boys.” The skeleton that started talking about said story started to hit other skeletons, making them come alive while a skeleton on the piano make the bar alive with music.

“Hey! Give me a listen you corpses of cheer. Least the one that still got an ear, I’ll tell you a story, make a skeleton cry of our own jubilisously lovely corpse groom!” As Y/N looked towards the groom, he seemed rather melancholy.

“Die, die, we all pass away. Don’t be afraid cause it’s really okay. You might try and hide, you might try and pray, but we all end up the remains of the day.” The skeletons danced to the chorus their bones adding another level of sound to the music.

“Well! Your boy was a beauty, known for miles around, till a mysterious stranger came into town. He was plenty good looken but down on his cash, and our poor little baby, he fell hard fast.” The skeleton dipped himself into the groom’s arms as he told the story to Y/N.

“When his daddy said no! He just couldn’t cope, so our lovers came up with the plan to elope.”

“Die, die, we all pass away. But don’t be afraid cause it’s really okay. You might try and hide, you might try and pray but we all end up the remains of the day!” By the time the chorus came around the bar patrons came to dance with Y/N.

Instead of going straight back into the story the group of skeletons played some heavy jazz and showed off their skills.

“Ya! So the conjured up a plan to meet late at night. They told not a soul, kept the whole thing tight. Now his father’s suit fit like a glove, you don’t need much when you’re really in love. Except for a few things, or so I’m told, but the family jewels and a satchel of gold. Then next to the grave yard by the old oak tree, on a dark foggy night at a quarter to three. He was ready to go! But where was he?”

“And then?” The crowd asked. “He waited.” “And then?” “There in the shadows, was it the man?” “The man?”

“His little heart beat so loud!” “And then?” “And then baby. Everything went black.”

“Now when he opened his eyes. He was dead as dust. He’s jewels were missing and his heart was bust. So he made a vow lying under that tree, that’s he’d wait for his true love to come set him free. Oh he’s waiting for someone to go and his hand.” The groom then takes Y/N’s hand and they spin to the music

“When out of the blue comes this groovy young sport, who vows forever to be by his side! And that’s the story of our own, corpse, groom!”

As the song ends and the crowd cheers Y/N runs up the stairs and makes it out of the bar, and when the door shuts so does the curtain.

—————————————————————————

Act five starts on the streets of a more blue than gray town, where the corpse groom was searching for Y/N.

“Y/N, darling where are you?” “If you ask me, your partner is kinda jumpy,” a voice sounded from the speakers. “They’re not just my partner, they’re my spouse.” The groom told the voice.

“Y/N? Where’ve you gone?” “I’ll keep any eye out for him” said the maggot in the groom’s eye socket. Little did they know Y/N was watching from behind a statue.

“Y/N?” “There they are, there they are! They’re getting away, quick quick!” As the voice sounded from the speakers Y/N ran off again.

“Y/N?” The groom paused for a moment so the arms in barrels pointed in the direction Y/N went, “thank you.”

“Y/N, where are you?” Y/N knew their groom was close behind so they played dead in coffin as he passed by. “Married huh? I’m a widow.” A spider said, hanging from the top of the coffin.

“He went that way!” The spider said as Y/N ran off in the direction they came from.

“Y/N, Y/N darling.”

“Please! There’s been a mistake!” Y/N said while grabbing the shoulders of a pedestrian. “I’m not dead!” After their head fell off, Y/N ran away from the now headless man, trying to get as far away from the shouting of their name as possible.

“Dead end.” In their hysteria, Y/N started to climb the wall. However when they reached the top they grabbed onto their groom, who appeared out of no where.

“You could have used the stairs silly.” The groom said as they pulled up Y/N. “Isn’t the view beautiful? It just takes my breath away. Well it would if I had any. Isn’t it romantic?” Saiki asked as he sat down on a near by bench. Y/N defeatedly sat done next to him.

“Look. I am terribly sorry about what’s happened to you, and I’d like to help. But I really need to get home.”

“This is your home now.” “But I don’t even know your name.” “It’s Kusuo.”

“Kusuo.” Y/N said, letting his name roll off their tongue.

“I’ve almost forgot, I have something for you!” Saiki said, grabbing a box from beside him. “It’s a wedding present.” He whispered.

Y/N lightly shook the box before opening it. When they did they gasped at the sight of bones. And turn fearful when the box started to shake and it jumped from their lap. Before their eyes Y/N watched as the pile of bones turned into a dog skeleton, it barked, then pranced back to Y/N giving them its collar.

“Scraps?” Y/N asked, the dog barked in response.

“Scraps! My dog Scraps!” Y/N said lovingly and the dog jumped onto their lap. “Oh Scraps, what a good boy!”

“I knew you’d be happy to see him,” Kusuo said dreamily. “He’s so cute.” “You should have seen him with fur.”

“Mother never approved of scraps jumping up like this.” Y/N commented. “But then again, she never approved of anything.” “You think she would have approved of me?” “Ha, you’re lucky you’ll never have to meet her.”

“I wish I could,” Saiki said a little sad. “Well, you will one day right?” Y/N laughed humorously.

“I suppose so, well, let’s get you introduced to everyone. I’m sure that will help you settle in here.” “Are your parents around here? If you can’t meet mine yet, I might as well meet yours.”

“I think I’d like that,” Kusuo said, taking Y/N’s arm and walked off stage, Scraps following close behind. The audience clapped and the play was over.

————————————————————————-

“What did you think of the play Kusuo?”

“I still don’t understand why I played Emily. I don’t think our personalities match at all.”

“Well I don’t think Teruhashi or Hairo would let to get away without trying out for a part. It was just pure dumb luck you played the corpse groom. I was mainly asking about the story though. What did you think of it?”

“I wish we had time to play out the full movie.”

“Me too but I don’t like the idea of the real ending, I’d have to give up my life with you to marry Teruhashi. I think I like this implied ending, a bit better,” Y/N smiled. Saiki returned a small smile.

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Happy Halloween! Hope you liked it!