#the cash tips are all lost

[dancedance-resolution]

so! guess who is withholding $60+ in tips from me 🥰

[childhoodlost]

Was someone gonna tell me MPA got renamed or was I just meant to find out on a random Monday morning by opening Tapatalk?

[shotmrmiller]

simon's many things. a retired fighter, for one. he hung his mma gloves a few of years ago with the excuse of getting older. he still sticks around, though— sitting in the front, so close to the hexagonal cage that his knees can touch the steel, occasionally gesturing price over to hand him a crinkled wad of cash.

gambling's illegal, you know.

thought you were a medic not a cop, pet.

a veterinarian.

good thing we're all dogs here, then.

he's also a bit unhinged, or so price says. you had pressed your tongue against the back of your teeth to keep from asking him if the hits simon's taken to the side of the head knocked a few things loose or if he was simply born that way. you'd be thoroughly unsurprised by the latter.

seen 'em take a man out with one ferocious hit— dislocated his jaw and retired him all in one second— all over cigarettes.

what, did they guy like steal them or something?

no. the prize for the winner of their fight was that pack of smokes.

incredible. (that's insane.)

he's also unrepentantly forward and a bit of a pervert, to boot. no explanation is needed.

lemme take ya out, love—

don't call me that.

and wear a pretty dress with heels. bet you'd look real good in—

stop talking, simon.

and now, you're about to find out that he's also, apparently, magnanimous.

a friday night's hustle and bustle has come and gone, as has the crowd that was in there earlier to watch a fight. the air smells of cheap alcohol and even cheaper cologne. the lighting inside is dim, casting a dull, almost sickly glow over wooden stands and the bloodied arena. the floor, once dry concrete, was now mud-slicked; drinks, urine, and spilled blood staining the surface. betting slips stick to your sneakers as you walk. (trudge, more like.)

with your worn medical supply bag around your shoulder, you tiredly head towards price's office whose metal door is being held open by an old barstool, and gently rap your knuckles on the frame. "i'm leaving, john."

he looks up at you, soft blue eyes crinkling over his glasses as he smiles. "sounds good, love. see ya later. want me to walk you out?"

always the gentleman. "no, i'm alright. i'm sure simon's out there waiting for me any—"

the metal entrance door slams open then, causing you to jump at the startling noise. you whip your head around and a resigned groan escapes your lips. it's simon and he's got bruised company. very bruised.

there's never any rest for the wicked.

"who's that?" john calls from behind you. "he lost?"

the guy whose arm is slung around simon's shoulders looks relatively young. thick, straight eyebrows, a swollen broken nose, and thin blood-crusted lips. the last time you saw a mohawk on someone, it'd been in the early 00s.

"somewhat but it's a good thing i found 'em," simon grunts. his eyes flash over to you. "can ya patch him up f'me, love? i'll go on tha' date you've been beggin' me for."

you ignore simon as you approach them both and tip the guy's head up with your fingers under his chin. searching in your front pocket, you tell him to look at you. "open your eyes as best you can, alright?"

his eyes are like sparkling blue gems— bright like the sky on a clear summer's day. he winces at the blinding white light emitting from the flashlight. "tha' necessary, lass? ah'm not seein' double, if tha's what ye lookin' fer."

he gives a pained grunt before simon tells him to stand still. "my girl here's the medic and what she says goes. clear?"

"crystal, sir." purple bruises are blooming like dark flowers around his left eye and right cheekbone, and the blood that oozed from his split lip long coagulated. his nose, however, continues to languidly drip crimson.

"not the worst break i've seen," you mutter.

the pair shuffle behind you quietly as you head toward the dedicated medical room. the sharp, clinical scent of antiseptic wafts through the air as the door swings open.

"sit, please," you gesture to the well-worn chair in the corner.

black latex gloves squeak in protest as you slide them on. "wanna tell me what's going on, simon? i'm not gonna fix the nose of a wanted murderer, am i?"

simon chuckles under his breath. "no. unlucky bloke chose to mug the wrong person. johnny here is real good at fightin', though, for someone with no real proper trainin'. figured i could give him a way to earn his money instead of stealin' it off of hard-workin' folk."

you hum and press your thumbs as gently as you can where the nasal fracture is. johnny hisses sharply and grips your wrist tightly. "easy. i barely touched it." you quickly tap the back of his hand with your knuckles. "let go, please. last thing i need is you tensing and breaking my arm."

he slackens his fingers and sits on both of his hands. "sorry, lass. ah'd never hurt a bonnie lass like ye. say, how'd ye even end up in the bowels of the city?"

his talking re-opened the cut on his upper lip, blood streaking his teeth pink. "i'm a charity case, just like you, i reckon."

johnny means to continue the conversation, but you take advantage of his distracted mind and push to the left, the sickening crunch of cartilage follows the adjustment. he curls in on himself and lets out a guttural noise that bounces off the white walls. "i'd be sorry but..." you trail off with a casual shrug.

pulling a clean rag from a basket nearby, you order johnny to sit up straight. "look up for me." he leans his head back, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "hold this there," he squeezes his eyes shut when you firmly press the rag under his nose, "you'll stop bleeding soon enough."

you swivel on your stool, turning your attention to simon who's been silently watching you work by the door. "any injuries on you?"

he pulls his balaclava up, revealing a blonde stubble and scarred lips. "i got an injury right," he points at his mouth, "here tha' you can kiss—"

"stop talking, simon."

johnny's laughter emerges from behind the crimson-stained cloth.

--

this is the first time you've ever seen simon in the ring.

simon, even while 'retired', fights with a viciousness that borders on primal. his snarl— a ravenous wolf's— bare crooked teeth that hunger for victory, for dominance.

even when he's merely teaching johnny how to survive in this subterranean battleground.

"there's no room for mercy, soap!" he bellows. his eyes are sharp as blades, holding an edge of madness. he charges forward with fists like sledgehammers, delivering blow after punishing blow; johnny's body paying the price for his mistakes.

pain is the currency in that pit of despair, laswell had once said.

simon is a beast in human skin, ferocity incarnate...and you don't remember the last time you were this aroused by such a brute display. if this is what he looks like now, after years of being the spectator and not the spectacle, you can only imagine him in the zenith of his strength, his power.

heat licks up your cheeks at the mere thought.

he looks like he was born and bred to fight. his crib must've been the stained mat he's dancing on, his lullabies the sound of fists making contact, forcing flesh to yield. his broad back bears the weight of history— jagged flesh that stretches taut with each swing.

"fight smart! rules dissolve once tha' bell tolls, mate. many come here for glory, others come for an escape but some--" simon ducks the undisciplined punch johnny throws and gives him a ruthless jab to the ribs once then another to the side of his cut jaw.

johnny falls like a tree that's been cut at the trunk, the sound his body makes on impact with the canvas echoing in the empty basement. his breathing comes in ragged bursts, sweat and trickles of blood mingling on his face. simon kneels next to him, grunting as he goes down. "some are only here for their next meal and those are the most dangerous."

he is in his element, all bruised flesh and bloodied nose.

oh no. johnny's nose is bleeding too. "simon!" his head snaps to you when you scream, eyes wide and unfettered. "i just fixed his nose, you dolt!" his expression softens then— furrowed brows and taut lips relax.

"he'll be alrigh'. even my nose whistles when i breathe," he remarks.

simpleton. nothing but fighting and gambling in that big head of his. "that doesn't mean that it's okay to break bones i mended a few days ago." you keep your eyes fixed on johnny, ignoring the way the heat that's radiating from simon's sweat-slick body seeps into your chilled skin. "why he call you soap, anyway? good at cleaning dishes?"

he slurs a little, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. "'cuz ah'm a shlippery bashtard."

you bite on your tongue, hoping that his slurring is because he's still mildly dazed from the punch and not something worse.

"wha' about me, love? i've got a beaten face too, y'know." you look at him then, narrowing your eyes as you take his bare face in. the bridge of his nose is pretty swollen, and you can see the onset of bruising already happening. it's also freely dribbling blood.

"shit, let me go get my medbag."

he hooks his fingers around the loops of your jeans, keeping you in place. "'fraid of a little blood, are ya? i think you'd look real good with me on you."

a jolt of arousal shoots up your spine unbidden, blooming desire, focus wavering. your breath catches and pupils dilate as they lock with his rich, brown ones.

"oi, get a room, aye?" johnny's hoarse voice snaps you back to the present, your thunderous heartbeat ebbing away like a tide from shore.

"whenever you want, sweetheart," simon purred. the lump lodged in your throat makes it hard to respond. "get the bag 'fore i bleed out. price will have my head if i drop dead on his mat."

you blink and scramble away on shaky legs and weak knees.

[snooyaki]

이찬연 — BARISTA BOY ☂︎ CH. I

a/n: my first ever written work on tmblr wooo 🥳 if this receives good feedback i’ll be willing to turn this into a series! hope you enjoy 💗

‘DONT CRY … DONT CRY.’ anton repeated to himself, feeling the lump forming in his throat as his eyes couldn’t help but begin to grow glossy. having a full mental breakdown in the middle of brewing up a coffee for a costumer was not an option for the boy. anton sniffled, a shaky exhale releasing from his trembling lips as he finished off his cappuccino with his signature leaf art. what a sad looking leaf it was. anton took a deep exhale, placing the coffee cup down as he pushed it forwards against the counter. ‘speak… you can do it..’

“o-order for minyoung?” anton’s delicate voice cracked.

the boy mentally cussed at himself, watching in fear as the scary woman he had encountered earlier stomped her way up to the counter, anton flinching with every clack of her heels. the woman’s sharp wrinkly eyes glared daggers at the anxious boy who couldn’t help but gulp at the sight.

“finally got my order right??” the woman’s icy tone spat, as anton quickly nodded his head. “y-yes maam… i apologize again for the inconvenience…” anton managed to speak despite his heart rate going off the charts.

anton was having a shitty day.

the boy had woken up that morning and not a thing was going his way. he had slept through his alarm and missed his bus on the way to work, resulting in being scolded by his manager. he had burned himself on one of the steamers, causing a mug to fall and shatter. not to mention the rude customers. anton did not know what was going on today, as it seemed that everyone was not having a good day. especially him.

anton was an emotional boy, one who got overwhelmed easily. today was taking a toll on him. it was mentally and physically draining to contain his tears and his thoughts. he just needed to make it through the day, he kept telling himself.

“excuse me,”

anton paused, eyes widening slightly in realization. he had been staring down at the cash register lost in his thoughts as a customer was patiently waiting for him to come back to his senses. god he was embarrassed. could this day get any worse? the boy lifted his head, ready to apologize to the customer before his words got stuck in his throat at the sight before him.

“… hi,” y/n smiled warmly, gazing up at anton with kind yet curious eyes. “you’re anton lee … right?” her soft voice rang out, a bright and comforting aura radiating off the girl.

anton stared at the girl in disbelief, the tips of his ears slowly beginning to turn a deep shade of red. out of all days his crush could have shown up at his work, it just had to be today? anton shook his head as he snapped back to his senses, a soft chuckle and forced smile came from the boy.

“yeah … yeah that’s me.” he spoke, rubbing the nape of his neck awkwardly, before meeting her gaze. “you’re y/n l/n … right?”

of course, anton knew who she was. everyone in their school knew who she was. y/n was a star student, known for her good grades, kind soul, and her beauty. it wasn’t a surprise that anton began crushing on y/n in the beginning of tenth grade after being in three out of the six classes a day for a whole year. it had all started the first day of school, when y/n had spoken to him for the first and the last time.

ೀ

“excuse me!” a hurried voice spoke, catching anton’s attention as the boy curiously turned around, his gaze instantly shooting down. there she was, in all her glory.

y/n gazed up at the boy with a kind smile, holding out a familiar navy-blue notebook in front of the boy. “here, your notebook. you left it in the classroom.” she hummed, as anton’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“oh …” anton muttered, slowly taking the notebook from the girl, a small smile lifting on his lips.

anton could feel his heart beating out of his chest as he stared at her pretty smile. “thanks …” he had managed to speak, before the girl had nodded her head.

“of course,” y/n smiled, before retreating to her friends. anton watched as she walked down the hallway, laughing and giggling with her friends. he watched her until she had disappeared in the large crowd of students.

“anton…?” sohee spoke, not snapping the boy out of his daydreams.

“anton… why are you so red?!”

  ೀ

although of course, anton had no intentions on pursuing her. y/n was way out of his league, or that’s what he believed. he was a silent admirer and planned on keeping it that way.

well, until today.

the girl nodded her head enthusiastically at anton’s question, delighted that he had remembered her name. “mhm! i didn’t know you worked here… this is quite a famous coffee shop.” y/n chuckled softly in attempts to make small conversation with the quiet boy.

anton felt his heart skip a few beats at the sound of her melodic giggle, nibbling his lip anxiously before nodding his head. “ive been working here for a few months now…” anton spoke, his eyes not being able to trail away from the girl’s face as she scanned the menu. anton couldn’t get his eyes off her. it was like he was stuck in a trance, analyzing every feature on her face. her beauty marks, her hair, the way her eyes sparkled excitedly while deciding what she was going to drink.

“make me your favourite order here. i want to try something new.” y/n eagerly spoke, taking anton for surprise. he had never had a customer ask for that before, but he was willing to do it. especially for her.

anton finally gathered the courage to show a little smile, nodding his head in approval at her request. “sure. i’ll make you something good.” anton stated, earning an excited smile from the other.

anton didn’t know what was with him in that moment. he felt a surge of confidence rise. ‘its now or never …’.

“it’s on me,” anton added, his eyes gazing down at his crush, watching as her expression quickly falter. anton rang it through the register before she was able to protest, chuckling at the sight of her shoulders falling in defeat.

“you didn’t have to do that anton…” y/n frowned, almost as if she was glaring at him in disappointment. anton looked down at the floor, a soft blush rising over his cheeks mentally preparing himself to meet her eyes again.

“but… i wanted to.” anton managed to say, his eyes searching for a reaction from the girl.

anton swore he saw her blush. he swore by it, but the self-doubt was convincing him otherwise. he couldn’t tell if he was imagining things. “it’ll be ready at the end of the counter.” anton then added, snapping y/n out of her thoughts.

the girl then showed off her signature smile, letting out a breath she hadn’t even realized she had been holding in. “thank you anton.” she hummed.

anton’s day was suddenly, not so shitty anymore. he couldn’t help but smile as he made her order the whole time, silently giggling to himself as he thought. he talked to you. he had finally talked to you again. something he had been meaning to do for two years. it finally happened.

anton gazed down at the cup, focusing hard on the heart he hadn’t even realized he made on your latte, resulting in a soft blush when he came to his senses. anton grabbed a lid, placing it over the cup as he let out a soft exhale in preparation before making his way towards the end of the counter.

“order for y/n!” he called out, catching her attention.

y/n gazed up from her phone, shutting it off as she stuffed it into her jacket pocket. the girl then made her way over to anton, grabbing the cup from the shy boy. she examined the way he had written her name. ‘y/n ᵕ̈ ‘ it read in his hand writing. she felt like she could stare at it for days, as a smile began slowly spreading over her face. y/n gazed up at the boy, letting out a soft chuckle. “thank you again anton.” she beamed, as anton gazed down at his feet, flustered.

“of course, y/n.”

the two shared a soft gaze, both in a comfortable silence unable to rip their gazes away, until you had spoken up. “i’ll see you at school…” y/n spoke, not breaking eye contact with anton once before slightly hesitating her next words. “dont be a stranger.” she stated, watching as anton shook his head at the girl. “i wont.” he stated back.

anton watched as the girl then began making her way out of the coffee shop. it saddened him a bit, to see her leave, her figure slipping past the door. but after his encounter with you, he couldn’t have been happier. anton stood there, smiling like an idiot. there were hearts practically surrounding the boy in love.

maybe today wasn’t so bad after all.

— nari ¨̮

#ˋ ୨୧ ˊTAGS !

[11cupids-tarot11]

What would they say to you through text right now?

18+ Only Minors DNI!

1 -> 2

3 -> 4

DM me for private readings!

$5.55 per question!

Tips appreciated!

C@sh app and P@ypal payments only!

Cash tag- $minnieplant3

Love y'all!

- Cupid 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪.

Pile 1-

"I need to figure myself out."

"Don't treat me the way you do, I don't deserve it."

"I can't talk to you right now."

"I don't want to be who I used to be. You deserve better."

"I love your breasts."

"I want to watch you pleasure yourself."

"I want to play between your thighs."

"I want to feel you."

"I really want to fill you up, so bad right now."

"Do you remember me?"

"I love you."

Don't forget to do the poll below! Take care<3

Pile 2-

"The way I have treated you was wrong."

"I am stuck in visions of us together."

"I'm obsessed with you."

"Don't wait for me please."

"I'm afraid to lose you."

"I love how you give in to me, even when you're mad."

"I want to finger you while I'm filling you up at the same time."

"Treat you like my princess again."

"You shouldn't have to wait for me to grow up, you don't deserve that."

"I'll sit alone everyday and reflect on myself until I'm ready to love you like you should be."

"Don't hide from me."

"Don't let anyone else see what's mine, even in separation your heart only beats for me, right?"

Don't forget to do the poll below! Take care<3

Pile 3-

"The heat between us is intense.x

"Will this ever change?"

"Emotions overwhelm me."

"The passion is too much."

"I can't let go of you."

"I want to watch you ride me."

"Your ass is so cute."

"I want to watch your ass while you ride me."

"I really can't stop thinking about your ass."

(lmao?😭)

"I want to live between your thighs."

"I love watching the faces you make while I fuck you."

"I want to see my cum all over you."

"I need to see how you look beneath me, how you feel, I need you."

Don't forget to do the poll below, take care!

Pile 4-

"My life is a mess right now."

"Please do what is best for your heart."

"I am scared of rejection."

"Why do I feel so lost?"

"I really want a home with you."

"you're my future."

"I want to provide you with everything you need or want."

"I want to watch you orgasm after orgasm."

"You'll be my queen in bed. I'll spoil you sweetheart."

"You'll always come first, I care about you so much."

Don't forget to do the poll below! Take care <3

I forgot to add pile 4 🙈 comment '4' down below instead! 🩷

[marvelfilth]

Angel (18+)

Pairing: stripper!Tara Carpenter x f! lawyer!reader

Warnings: no ghostface AU, Tara is 21, R is 27, smut, lap dance, pole dance, alcohol consumption, tipsy driving (pls don't do that), fingering, a bit of degradation and praise

Summary: You need to unwind. Angel gives you more than you could have ever asked for.

Masterlist

You've had a bad month. Scratch that, you've had the worst month of your career. You've lost one of your loyal clients to a rival and your boss chewed you out over it, and, to top it off, you've lost a case you've been working on for the past four months.

You blink back the exhaustion, leaning back on the railing of your office balcony. You've been nursing your whiskey for the past hour, hoping it'll chase away your gnawing thoughts, but to no avail, you're still deep in your head, rethinking every decision that led you to this.

You check your wrist watch, the platinum glistening in the city lights, and decide to finally head home. You finally relax once you're in your car, putting the key in the ignition and driving off, leaving the day behind. You take a familiar route, driving almost on autopilot and humming along to the song on the radio, fingers drumming on the wheel.

You're almost home when you change your mind and make a sharp turn on the next intersection, heading to a place you haven't been to in months.

Two men in the front greet you with identical nods, holding the door open for you, sensual music spilling into the bustling street. Your eyes zero in on the bar, not paying any attention to the stage and the dancers, happy to see a familiar face handling alcohol tonight.

"Tough day?" Amber asks with a sympathetic smile, placing a full glass in front of you.

"Tough month," you sigh, not in the mood for a conversation.

She offers one more smile before turning to another guest, sensing your desire to be left alone. Her eyes take on a new glint, lips slightly pursed in a cute pout as she talks to a clean shaved man. You scoff in your drink and shake your head, ignoring the glare she sends you.

Leaning back against the bar you settle to simply people watch for some time, maybe get a dance or two from a pretty woman.

"You should ask for Angel," Amber says, wiping the counter. You look at her in question, your glass stopping midway to your mouth. "She's new, but she's good. You could use some unwinding and she's the best at it, trust me."

You nod slowly and ask for a refill before leaving her a tip and walking off to a secluded booth in the back of the club, settling back on the couch and trying to find a new face in the sea of dancers you already know well. Out of the corner of your eye you see Felicity, a fiery redhead with no filter. She effortlessly glides on the dancefloor in her nine inch heels, red lingerie catching eyes of gaping men with pockets full of cash. She bends in a sensual move, her thong granting a perfect view of her round ass. You hum when money starts falling in waves, making the floor disappear. She deserves that and more.

She catches your eye, brow raising suggestively, to which you shake your head no.

"Waiting for someone?" A voice whispers right in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Your head turns to be met with the eyes of a stranger inches away from your own, lips painted blood red and pulled into a smirk.

You swallow, feeling the swell of her breasts against your arm that's resting on the back of the couch, and shake your head tersely, not trusting your voice just yet. She bites her lower lip and pulls away to slowly walk around the couch, making sure to show off her assets.

Almost all of her body is bare, her lacy push up bra making her breasts look good enough to throw handfuls of cash at her feet. Your gaze is immediately drawn to the full globes, then lowers to a dark red triangle of fabric between her legs held by a thin string. She takes her sweet time in caging you against the leather cushions, draping herself over your lap, hands settling on your shoulders.

You take this opportunity to study her features: the slope of her small nose; the freckles dusted all over her upper cheeks; her dark and inviting eyes, eagerly drinking you up with the same vigor; her full lips, painted red and waiting to be claimed.

She takes your whiskey and sips, expertly masking the distaste behind an alluring smile, but you still catch the way her eyes momentarily squeeze in a fleeting grimace, making you bite back a chuckle.

"I'm Angel. What's your name?" She purrs, hips moving to the beat as she plays with the hair at the nape of your neck. You see some men glare at you with jealousy, their jaws grinding. Angel must be fairly popular to grant a reaction like that.

"Does it matter?" You husk, struggling to keep your hands to yourself.

"Mysterious, huh?" She chuckles, arching against your chest, her barely covered breasts almost spilling out right in your face, hips moving in circles against your crotch. "I like that."

You hum, settling back to watch her flexible body roll against your slowly relaxing one, her lower lip pulled between pearly white teeth.

"There you go," she whispers, sliding her palm down your chest, her other hand tangling in your hair, nails scratching your scalp. It feels so good you almost purr. "Tell me what got you so wound up."

You sigh and take another sip of your drink before answering. "Lost my top client."

She hums, her torso moving in a slow hypnotic circle, before leaning back into you to whisper right in your ear. "Their loss."

She pulls back to look you in the eye, the space between you almost crackling with tension.

"Hey Angel," one of the men that's been glaring at you calls out, waving a couple of twenty dollar bills in the air. "Come give me a dance."

She doesn't even look in his direction, but you silently reach for your wallet, taking out three hundred dollar bills and pushing them under the string of her thong. "Stay."

Her eyes widen and she bites her lip before nodding. She throws her head back, hands leaving your shoulder to slide up her waist to cup her breasts, pushing them together inches away from your face. Your heart hammers in your chest, and you have to grip your thighs to keep yourself from touching her. She rises on her knees and changes the position, her back now to your front, ass snugly against your crotch.

You finish your whiskey in one gulp, your breath hitching. Her wavy hair gets in your face and you breathe in the enticing scent of her perfume mixed with the essence of her. She turns her head, looking at you with half lidded eyes. "You like that?"

"I do," you reply, noting the slight blush rising on her cheeks.

"Want to move somewhere private?" She asks, her eager tone cracking the unbothered facade she's been putting on.

You nod and follow her to the other side of the club, Amber sending you thumbs up from behind the bar before going back to flirting with another drunk man, crisp bills filling her pockets.

You're led to a dark hallway that leads to private rooms, anticipation buzzing under your skin. She nods at the security guard, the man looking you up and down before he lets you through. She locks the door and you wander deeper into the room, taking a seat on the velvety couch.

Sensual music starts spilling from the speakers before she turns sharply, a devilish smirk on her lips. She saunters to the pole, hips swaying in tune with the music, eyes never leaving yours as she hooks her leg over the metal and twirls. She closes her eyes, losing herself in the dance, and grips the pole before bending, back arched, the swell of her ass right in front of your face.

You exhale, nearly biting down on your knuckles from the need to turn her around and fuck her right on the floor. "Angel," you breathe out. She faces you and drops to her knees, legs spread as her hips move up and down, arms over her head as she grips the pole. "Yes?"

You pat your lap and without a moment of hesitation she climbs on top of your thighs, taking off her bra. You bite back a moan when her breasts spill out, pinkish nipples begging for your mouth. She takes hold of your neck, her forehead pressed against yours as she rocks her hips on your lap, her breathing labored. She weaves languidly against your tense torso, her lips brushing against your cheek before she pulls away to settle her hands on your chest, nails scratching your white shirt.

"Fuck," you close your eyes, enjoy the press of lithe body, arousal coursing through your veins. She hums, her center flush against your thigh and you feel her wetness smear on the fabric of your slacks. Your fingers clench uselessly at your sides. "You're enjoying this," you state, searching her face for an answer.

"More than you can imagine," she whispers, grinding down on your thigh with intent. Her nipples brush against your chest and she moans quietly, repeating the motion. You unconsciously thrust up, your pelvis connecting with her heat just as she is rolling down, sending pleasure through her body. She grabs your shoulders and your eyes lock. You thrust again, intentionally this time, your palms planted firmly on the couch to add force. Her hips rock, her needy moans filling your ears.

You can't take your eyes off her.

Fuck that, you think, before planting your hands on her hips, directing her movements, and pulling her into a feverish kiss. Her lips are impossibly soft, and her tongue tastes like whiskey and some fruity cocktail she's probably had earlier. Your hands move from her hips to her breasts, squeezing.

"Yes," she moans, greedily pushing against you. "More, please."

You hesitate only for a moment before lowering your mouth to her nipple, sucking it in with hunger you didn't know you possessed. She bites on her knuckles, hiding a loud moan from the guards behind the door. Your fingers itch with the need to tear off her thong and plunge deep into her soaking pussy, claiming the most vulnerable part of the petite brunette.

"How does that feel?" Your teeth graze against the underside of her breast before you take the other nipple in your mouth, tongue sliding on the hardened nub.

"Like I'm about to come," she whimpers, messily humping on your thigh. "Need you inside," she pleads, taking hold of your hand.

You follow her lead, your fingers easily pushing her thong aside and dipping between her slick folds, strands of wetness clinging to your digits. She buckles against your hand in search of friction, and you teasingly circle her clit, pulling a delicious moan out of her lips. "Like that?" You tease, even though you're as affected as she is.

"Yes- fuck, just like that," she whimpers.

"What about the rules, Angel? You gonna tell your boss about this?"

She shakes her head. "No, I promise. Fuck the rules." She desperately clings to your wrist, pressing your palm against her heat.

It's all you need to finally thrust your fingers inside her cunt. She cries out, biting your shoulder to hide the sound, and starts moving her hips up and down, meeting your fingers halfway.

"Such a bad girl you are, Angel. Riding a stranger like a slut," you grunt, fastening your pace. Filthy sounds fill the room as your fingers keep disappearing in her pussy, bringing her closer to the edge. Suddenly, a misplaced spark of jealousy ignites something deep inside your chest. "Do you do this with everyone, Angel? Do you spread your legs for strangers every night?"

"No," she gasps, tilting your face up and bringing you in for a kiss. "Just you," she moans against your lips, "only you."

The fire inside your chest burns. "Good."

Her walls clench around you, mouth wide open as she moans loudly. You force her mouth shut, pressing your palm against her lips, her eyes widening before they roll to the back of her head. Your thumb slides on her clit in tight circles, fingers curling to touch her sweet spot. She bites down on your knuckles, desperately chasing her orgasm, arousal dripping down her thighs. You add a third finger, stretching her tight pussy, and spread them inside.

"Come for me, Angel," you rasp, pushing deep inside. She cries out, squeezing around your fingers as she comes. She curls into you, hiding her face in the slope of your neck. "Good girl," you praise, kissing her temple, your fingers buried inside her wet heat.

There's a loud knock and a gruff voice sounds from behind the door. "Everything alright, Angel?"

She sits up, eyes wide and alert, and looks at the clock near the door. Your private session ended ten minutes ago.

"I- I have to go," she scurries away, putting on her bra on her way to the door.

"Wait," you call out, catching her wrist before she could touch the handle. "Stay, please."

Her eyes flicker to your lips before she throws herself at you, hands around your waist, kissing you with fervor. You press her against the door, trailing kisses all over her neck, wishing you could leave marks for her to remember you by.

There's another knock and a threat to break down the door. Angel pulls away with one last peck before disappearing behind the door.

The rest of the week goes better after that night. You feel like the burden that's been sitting on your shoulders got smaller, granting you more hours of sleep and allowing you to look your boss in the eye without feeling inferior. You can't help but think back on the girl that so easily brought this change on you. Sometimes when you're caught up in paperwork in the late hours of night you catch yourself wishing you were back in that private room, looking at her instead of some boring corporate nonsense. Your fingers squeeze around the pen with need to touch her again, to unravel her, to savor her taste.

On a Friday night you decide to leave the office early and head to the club, but a phone call stops you in your tracks.

"Hey, hope I'm not interrupting."

You smile, always happy to hear from your friend. "You're not, I'm… heading home early."

"Great. Perfect, actually. I know it's a bit last minute, but I was wondering if you'd like to come over for dinner tonight? I'm making your favorite." Sam asks, and you can hear the sound of pans hitting the stove in the background.

"What's the catch, Carpenter?"

She groans, and you can almost see her slouch against the counter. "I'm not sure if I mentioned it, but Tara is studying to be a lawyer, and I thought maybe you could give her some pointers over dinner?"

You blink, surprised by the question. In two years of your friendship with Sam you've never met her younger sister. Even though they're living together, she's never home when you're over, working double shifts to afford tuition, adamantly refusing Sam's offers to help. She likes to complain about it from time to time, but you can see she's proud of the younger girl.

Angel will be there tomorrow, and you're actually excited to finally meet Tara. It doesn't take long for you to decide which way to go. You make a quick stop at a grocery store on your way there, buying Sam's favorite beer and a bottle of wine, thinking about offering her sister an internship. If she's even half as brilliant as Sam you want her on your team once she graduates.

When you finally knock on the door, expecting to see Sam on the other side, you feel wind get knocked out of you when the woman you've been thinking about since you left the club opens it.

"... Angel?"

_______________

Thoughts?

[grandline-fics]

I love love loooooove your work! If I may, I'd love to request a little friends to lovers scenario with Ace ❤️‍🔥 perhaps with a bit of meddling from the crew, perhaps with a hint of a drinking game/drunken flirting? No matter what, I'm sure I'll love whatever you write as much as I've loved everything else so far 🥰 Hope you have a wonderful day!

DESCRIPTION: Tired of you being 'just friends' some of the crew decide to interfere to get you both together

WARNINGS: Nothing, just the fluff that comes with the friends-to-lovers prompt

CHARACTERS: Ace

WORDS: 1,590

A/N: I honestly don't know where I was going with this half the time but I really hope it's to your liking and fits what you were looking for. Thank you for the request!

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

From the day you and Ace met on the deck of the Moby Dick, your friendship was instantaneous and unshakable. After a week the crew had made bets on when you two would finally get together. Sadly for all of them, they were all unable to cash in on their guesses because still after all this time the two of you had yet to see the obvious. As far as you and Ace were considered the two of you were best friends and absolutely failed to see how utterly perfect you both were for the other. It was infuriating for the crew to see both you and Ace hook up with people on evenings the ship docked at an island. It annoyed them even more so to see that neither you or Ace would become in anyway jealous of those evenings. It wasn’t long before a new bet began to circulate around the crew about how long it would take for you and Ace to finally see what everyone else saw. Some were beginning to believe it was a lost cause for you both. Others however weren’t going to let that happen.

One evening you were sat on the railing of the ship, your back against Ace’s side with your head relaxed against his shoulder as you stared out at the ocean. This was your usual spot with Ace, one neither of you questioning how intimate it seemed as to the both of you it was just comfortable. Besides Ace was a naturally affectionate person so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to do this with anyone in the crew, it was just coincidence that you were the one he sought out most of all because you two were practically joined at the hip. Keeping your eyes on the calm waves you wordlessly took the slice of apple as it was being held out to you on the tip of Ace’s knife. As you finished chewing, the ship hit a rogue swell of the wave and lurched forward. Because you weren’t expecting it you tumbled forward, almost being knocked overboard. Thankfully you were saved by Ace’s arm bracing around your waist and pulling you back to safety.

“My hero.” You grinned up at Ace playfully, swooning fully into his arms as his laughs joined yours.   Your moment together was interrupted when Marco called for Ace. You yelped when he adjusted his hold on you and hauled you up onto his shoulder as he stood on the railing before jumping down onto the deck. Ace approached Marco who stared at you both with a practiced neutral expression. He was one of the members of the crew who was waiting for you and Ace to get together. This arrangement wasn’t anything new for Marco so he brought Ace into a conversation about the individual Division tasks needed to be done when they docked at the next island. Through it all you merely continued to be draped on Ace’s shoulder, enjoying being carried about the place. Just as you were getting comfortable in the position Izou called your name. With a sigh you expertly disentangled yourself from Ace’s hold while Ace also helped you back onto your feet, maintaining eye contact and his conversation with Marco through it all, his actions practically as natural as breathing. The sickening display of synchronicity only furthered Marco’s resolve that enough was enough. 

“Um, excuse me?” Izou and Marco turned to see a woman approach them not long after they all settled into the tavern. “I don’t want to make a fool of myself but that man over there. Is he single  or is he-” She moved to love over her shoulder at Ace but stopped when she saw you were now at his table, pulled onto his lap due to a lack of seats. “Oh…never mind. They’re a cute couple.” Together Marco and Izou shared a look and grinned. 

“This next round is on the house in honour of the newlyweds!” A voice shouted out from the bar. You and Ace cheered out with the entire bar at the prospect of free drinks, looking up in happiness in hopes of seeing who the married couple were but you couldn’t see them. It was a large building and already filled with groups. When Marco and Izou appeared with the drinks you sat forward in Ace’s lap to reach for your mug only to be stopped when Marco leant in to you both. “Thanks for the free drink you two-yoi.” He grinned before taking his seat. 

“Wait…what?” You laughed out slightly, glancing over your shoulder to see the bar owner smiling at you and Ace. Quickly you forced yourself to smile back and quickly turn your head back to Marco while Ace looked just as bewildered. “What made him think we were married?”

“That’d be my doing.” Izou answered smoothly, hiding his disbelief that even with you literally in Ace’s lap with his arm around your waist that either of you would find someone believing you two to be a couple to be confusing. “Marco bet me that I couldn’t wrangle free drinks from the barman and well, who can resist a couple of newlyweds?” 

The lie came from the Division Commander so cleanly and with such ease that you and Ace couldn’t even find anything in his demeanour to make you doubt his words. Together you and Ace shared a look, momentarily tense as you now really noticed your seating arrangement. Unable to help himself, Izou added more fuel to the fire. “I hope you two can convince him you’re actually a couple otherwise we could find ourselves in trouble. Remember we promised Pops we’d be on our best behaviour tonight.”

“Please,” you scoffed leaning back to settled against Ace’s chest and reached back to lightly cup Ace’s jaw while Ace tightened his hold around you, leaning into your touch. The both of your met Izou’s stare with mirrored confident smirks, never backing down from a dare. “There’s no way he’ll doubt us. Right sweetheart?”

“You got that right babe.” He chuckled before quickly pecking a kiss against your cheek making you laugh. Grinning, Ace placed another kiss against your cheek to draw another laugh out of you, finding this game to be enjoyable. He paused however when someone started to chant ‘Kiss’ at you both, drawing more and more voices into the chant until it was all you two could hear. 

Clearing your throat you turned in Ace’s hold until you were properly facing him, your hand remaining against his jaw while your other hand settled on his shoulder. You both met each other’s stare evenly and filled with trust and playfulness. To you both this was just a skilful ruse to avoid the owner of the bar from getting suspicious that you were both merely friends. Leaning in you let your breath ghost over his lips for just another brief enticing moment before the distance was closed and your lips met to the sound of whooping and whistles of the excited patrons. Not that either you or Ace were paying attention to the outside noise. 

All you two could focus on was the magnetic pull of each other, the kiss too dizzying and intoxicating to just stop right away but slowly and reluctantly you both parted. Sheepishly you both smiled at the other, eyes flickering down to the lips you couldn’t help but want to taste again. Both you and Ace didn’t truly know what to make of what had just happened but you knew something certainly had happened. Something that while it had been started because of a silly game, was something very real. Smiling softly, you turned in his hold to grab your drink and pass Ace his too, settling against him once more. Regardless of the kiss you felt no different in his arms, it still felt like security and home. A small smile played on your lips as you felt Ace’s hand remain on your hip and let his cheek rest against your head, showing he too didn’t feel uncomfortable with what just happened. 

When the crew began to scatter about the bar you felt Ace’s nose lightly nudge your cheek to get your attention and you turned your head slightly to meet his stare. Even with the alcohol in his system he still held a bright sharpness in his gaze. “I don’t know about you but that was one of the best kisses of my life…”

“Well it’s because of my kisses that you proposed, surely?” You teased before settling your hand on his arm that kept you anchored against him. “But seriously…yeah. One hell of a kiss.”

“I feel like if I ask for another it definitely wouldn’t be because we need to convince someone we’re together. It’ll be because I want us to be together.”

“So we’d have gotten married first, had our first kiss second, and now start dating third? A pretty weird order to do things.” You laughed, sitting up to wrap your arms around Ace’s neck and let your lips inch closer to his. “But you know what? It doesn’t feel weird at all.”

Ace nodded in agreement before eagerly closing the space against you once more to kiss you insistently and more heated than the previous kiss. 

Against the bar, Marco slid the large bundle of money over to the bar owner to cover the round of drinks that had been claimed as ‘free.’ “Worth every penny-yoi.”

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

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf

[pedrito-friskito]

hey kay bb!! hope you're doing well 💖

mando has been on the brain lately so i'm requesting fluffy smut with him pls 🥺😫 (the yearning is *extra* today)

niiiiiiiiik my darling my dear hope you are also well 💗

ok…this got away from me. I blinked and suddenly a plot! exposition! SMUT! (multiple scenes at that) all the things. I’m a slut for Din Djarin and it really jumped out on this one.

(smut below the cut, a full plot, the helmet comes off, a bit of inexperienced!din, reader is kind of a bad ass, descriptions of bodies, unprotected p-in-v sex - wrap ur shit even if ur in space ok)

sleepover saturday

uncharted territory

(word count 9.1k - it REALLY got away from me okay)

gif by @aceofwhump

Then you are a Mandalorian no more.

Din Djarin aches in a way he has never felt before, much more powerful than any injury he could ever sustain. His Creed, demolished. His son, gone. His life, upended. As he staggers out of the Covert, trying to think of where to go next, he cannot shake the feeling of lost that settles around his shoulders like a cloak.

Maybe coming to Glavis was a mistake; maybe he should have stayed back on Nevarro, kept taking jobs from Karga until he finally had enough credits to take the old man’s advice, get himself a camtono full of spice and disappear into the Twi’lek healing baths until he forgot the whole thing.

The truth of it? He knew he could never forget. There wasn’t enough spice in the galaxy to help him forget it all. It wasn’t possible. And the larger part was that Din didn’t want to forget.

His leg aches as he walks. The bacta Paz had sprayed him down with had helped some, but the ache runs deep, and the drills the Armourer had forced him to run with the Darksaber had only made matters worse. He should find a place to lie down, to hide for the night before he decides what he plans to do next, where he plans to go.

Where will he go?

You are a Mandalorian no more.

The echo of the words make his head split, and for a moment, he has half a mind to wrench the helmet off, to launch it off the ring, let space swallow the beskar whole. But he stops himself; it feels as though his armour is all he has left.

His armour, and the Darksaber. The right to the throne of Mandalore.

Maker, he can’t think straight. The ache only worsens, his limp more prominent, and it gets to the point where he can take no more. He falls onto the nearest crate, his injured leg stuck straight out in front of him. His body feels twice as heavy, his head even more so, and he tips it back against the wall to lighten the load. He’ll rest just a moment, he’ll just shut his eyes for one—

“Mando?”

Din pulls his blaster from his holster as his eyes shoot open. There’s the sound of shuffled steps, something metallic hitting the floor, a murmured dank farrik! He hits a button on his vambrace, turns off the thermal setting on his visor.

“Sweets?”

You look exactly the same as he remembers. It’s been ages, but he could never forget your face. He knows what’s underneath your clothes, too, and the memory speeds to the surface of his mind faster than a pod-racer.

+

Before he had an in with Peli on Tatooine, the Razor Crest routinely parked and tuned up in Hangar 3-5, he had you. You were well-known within the Guild, had more than a few contracts with different gangs and hunters in the galaxy. If something on a ship broke, you were the one to fix it, and you had enough heavily-armed thugs on your side to make anyone think twice about trying to mess with you.

Some called you the Mechanic, simple and descriptive. Others, those you let a little closer, knew you as Sweets, a moniker earned by your penchant for candies and treats. You’d let your favoured clients off easy if they were short a few credits, but had something sweet from the far reaches of the galaxy to offer in lieu of the missing cash.

Din knew he was one of your favoured clients, perhaps your favourite. Or, had been. You’d crowed endlessly about the Crest, desperate to get your hands on it any time he hauled it in for service, whether it actually needed it or not. Sometimes he genuinely needed something fixed, some times he’d found some candy or sweet in a far off corner of the galaxy that he’d brought back just for you.

Other times, he just wanted to see you.

You were sweet in other ways, too. He knew first-hand. And he knew he was the only client you let into your bed. He’d been drawn to you the first time you’d been introduced — a common contact between you and Din sent him your way when the Crest was in serious need of a tune-up, and you were the closest mechanic he could get to without doing more damage to the ship.

Your knowledge astounded him, to start. You were barely into a diagnostic and you knew exactly what needed to be fixed, what parts you had and didn’t, how many credits it was going to cost him. And you hadn’t even set foot on the ship yet. Your competency drove him wild, only spurred on when he brought you aboard the Crest to give the interior a once-over, eager to see if he’d kept everything original, or if you had any modifications to offer that he might be interested in. Din followed you around the ship silently, answering whatever questions you had, mostly just watching you work. It was intriguing beyond belief.

“That’s not much of a bed,” you’d commented, cocking your head to the side when you hit the button that opened the bunk. “When’s the last time you had a new mattress?”

He just shrugged.

“One thing you should know,” you said over your shoulder, descending the Crest’s ramp, heading back towards the entrance to your shop. “I don’t use droids.”

Din nearly fell over. “That’s not a problem.”

“Good,” you replied, tapping at your data pad, your brow scrunching. “It’ll take longer than your usual hangar; I do everything myself.”

“I’m happy to wait,” he said, dipping his helmet, thankful it was hiding the way he was raking his eyes over you. I don’t use droids. Had someone made you in a lab somewhere, on some backwater planet, just for him? “I know she’s in good hands.”

The grin you’d offered him was sweeter than anything he’d ever seen, and you shooed him out a moment later, muttering something about getting back to work.

When he returned three days later to retrieve his ship, he almost didn’t recognize it. You’d repainted most of the outside panels, replaced all the ones that were missing, and the engines were so shiny Din could see his helmet reflected in them. Inside the Crest was another story; you’d outfitted him with a carbonite cell system, top of the line and primed for use. That meant no more mouthy bounties, no more wasting durasteel cuffs and gags when he could just hit a button and have a quiet ride back to the Guild.

And in the bunk, a new mattress, complete with a pillow, and bolted on the wall, a mount for his helmet.

“You don’t sleep with that thing on, do you?”

“The carbonite system,” he nearly sputtered, rubbing a gloved hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t have the credits, I didn’t—”

You poked the toe of his boot with your own. “Call it a gift, Mando. Let’s just say I shouldn’t have had the thing hanging around to begin with.”

“Is that gonna cause me any problems?”

“Nope,” you replied, popping the p. “Wiped all the identification numbers from the system. No one will know where it came from. Except you.”

He stared at you a long moment. “Except me.”

He was sure to pay you in full, plus the candied flowers he’d found at one of the vendors in the markets. You’d smiled again at that, and while Din committed the sight to memory, he also promised himself that he wouldn’t let it be long before he saw your smile again.

And he kept that promise. The next time he landed the Crest in your hangar, it wasn’t because he needed a tune-up or new parts. He’d struck gold at a black market on Coruscant; his bounty had lead him into the belly of a sweet shop, and after the Gungan had been dealt with, Din did some hunting of his own. He took as many boxes as he could carry, trying to take one of each flavour, a few extra of the ones he’d seen on the shelf in your shop.

“What in Maker’s name are you doing here?” you’d called as soon as he landed, stepping out of the shop and into the hangar, your hands on your hips, cocked to one side. “You ruin my handiwork that fast?”

“Not exactly,” he’d replied, walking down the ramp, his arms laden with goodies. Your eyes had gone huge. “I come bearing gifts.”

“For me?” you cried, gasping as you took the boxes from him, tongue poking between your teeth. “Mandalorian, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”

He’d never been so grateful for his helmet at that exact moment. He might have crumbled to dust if you’d seen how red his cheeks were. “I-I owed you,” he stuttered out, “for the carbonite.”

“You didn’t owe me anything,” you quipped, swaying from side to side on your feet, staring down at your treats. “I told you, it was a gift.” You gave him one of those smiles again, and Din felt his stomach twist at the glitter in your eyes. “Why don’t you stay a while? I’ll feed you and everything.”

You disappeared into the shop, and Din paused a moment before following.

He saw you disappear behind a dark curtain that had definitely seen better days, and Din followed your further to discover there was an apartment of sorts attached to the shop. Apartment was perhaps too kind a word; it was one large room, a kitchen to one side, a large futon spread in the middle. Trunks and boxes and crates stacked along the far wall, a few grease-stained jumpsuits littering the floor. You stumbled over your feet trying to pick them up, tossing the offending fabric into a nearby crate, before you turned back to him. “What are you hungry for?”

You served him first. Noodles with dark sauce and some kind of shredded meat you thought was bantha but weren’t quite sure. But, as you stated with a shrug, “it’s good, and it hasn’t killed me yet.” After you slid the bowl across the table to him, you turned back to the stove and stayed that way. After a moment, Din wasn’t sure what to do, but then your head turned slightly, your eyes trained directly to the left, not wandering towards him over your shoulder. “I won’t look. Swear.”

He lifted the helmet just enough to shovel the food into his mouth. You were right, the mystery meat was good, and the sauce you’d made to go with it was even better. He nearly inhaled the food, not wanting to keep you too long, and when the helmet slid back down, the mechanism hissing back into place, your head turned again, still not looking at him.

“You’re safe,” he said, sliding his empty bowl back across the table.

You turned fully, serving yourself, and he expected you to sit across from him, keeping a bit of distance between you, but instead, you rounded the table and plunked yourself down on the stool right beside him. You ate much slower than he had, and Din let his eyes graze over you. The streak of engine grease on your cheek, the scar that split your lower lip, the intricately messy way you wore your hair. A silver chain sat around your throat, strung with a tiny silver ring. It disappeared down the front of your shirt most of the time, but right then it sat awkwardly, the chain caught on your collar, the ring sitting in the hollow of your throat. He resisted the urge to reach out and fix it.

The jumpsuit you wore was nearly identical to the ones you’d hurriedly swiped off the floor. Torn on one knee, zipper unfurling beneath your chest, a symbol he didn’t recognize patched onto your thigh. You’d tied the sleeves around your waist like a belt, a dirty rag tucked in at your hip. The Mechanic, herself. Sweets.

He thought you were beautiful. He had a feeling you’d look beautiful in anything.

Or nothing.

Din was distracted by your thumb at your lips, swiping a drop of sauce from your chin and sucking your finger into your mouth. His flight-suit was tight beneath his beskar to begin with, and you weren’t helping matters. “So,” you said simply, reaching for your food again. “Tell me a story, Mando. A good one. Best bounty you ever caught.”

The conversation filtered between you two easily. You were a good listener, easy to talk to, and Din felt like he couldn’t stop talking to you, telling you about his first kill, his first bounty. His first ship, before the Crest. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you about the before, before the Guild, before he was just the Mandalorian, when he was just Din Djarin. A foundling. Part of him wondered what you think, what your reaction might be to his past, but a larger part forced his mouth shut.

At some point, he turned himself towards you on his stool, one arm braced on the table, the other resting on his thigh. After you finished your food, you leaned heavily on the table, your head pushed into your palm, legs crossed at your ankles, swinging slowly, the toe of your boot tapping his shin every once in a while.

He could see you were tired, the way you started covering your yawns and rubbing at your eyes. “I should go,” he said, starting to get to his feet. “You’re tired, and I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

Your hand flashed out quick — not quick enough to startle him, though — and wrapped around his wrist. You’d managed to wedge your fingers right into the space where his glove met his vambrace, and he felt you against his pulse, against his bare skin. “You don’t have to leave, Mando.”

Din. He wanted to tell you. My name is Din.

Slowly, his own hand reached out, hovering in the air, shaking more than a vibroblade. He saw your eyes trace its path, watching until it lowered, dropped until the flat of his palm met the curve of your thigh. His gloved fingers wrapped around the meat of your leg, his thumb pressing towards the inside. 

He heard you gasp. 

He moved forward an inch, and his hand moved higher, thumb riding the seam of your jumpsuit. You hummed, fingered squeezing around his wrist, and Din moved closer, until he had one leg between yours. He let his hand wander higher, listening carefully to the changes in your breathing, the hitch in your throat. The heat between your legs was almost stifling, and something feral in the back of his brain screamed for more.

Whatever snapped in him, it seemed to break in you at exactly the same time. You both shot to your feet together, and Din’s hands moved to your waist, to where your sleeves were knotted at your waist. Yours roamed his chest plate, fingers tapping along beskar until you hooked them in his cloak. He halted his own hands, ready to help you remove the fabric, but you handled it just fine on your own, finding the hidden snaps with ease.

His blood turned to flame when he felt your fingers along his throat, seeking his pulse in another spot. “You should stay,” you breathed out, your voice barely above a murmur. “Please, Mando, I want you to stay.”

He forced himself to nod, his mind now preoccupied with ripping his gloves from his hands. He needed to feel you, no barriers in between.

He needed to see you, something in him screamed, no barriers in between.

He silenced that voice before it could spur him further. Busied himself with diving his hand beneath the waist of the jumpsuit, the broken zipper catching on his wrist. You were even hotter beneath, and he sucked down a breath when he found you wet, slick coating his fingers.

Your body leaned into him, chasing his touches, and he hooked his other hand around your thigh, lifting you up and backwards onto the table. He could feel you watching, your eyes moving from his helmet down his front, to where his hand was jammed beneath the jumpsuit. He crooked one finger, testing, pressing it into you, and grinned beneath his helmet when you moaned.

Din hooked his arm under your waist, lifting you just enough that he could maneuver the jumpsuit over your hips, down your legs. His cock jolted between his legs at the sight of you bare, leaned back on the table, your chest heaving. Even though the visor, he could see how slick you were, the evidence shining on the insides of your thighs.

He wanted to taste you.

He pushed the thought away again. Another time, when he wasn’t smearing the inside of his flight-suit with precum, when you weren’t keening into his touch as he dragged his fingers against the sensitive skin between your legs, when he could turn the lights off and shed his armour, bare himself to you the same way.

You moaned again when his fingers found your clit, drawing a sloppy circle that had your muscles tensing against his hand, knees closing against his hips. “F-fuck, Mando,” you ground out, tipping your head back on your shoulders. “You’re good with those hands.” Another stuttered breath as he twisted his wrist, curling two fingers just inside your entrance, thumb stretching up to swipe over your clit. “Really good.”

He was grinning beneath the helmet again, eyes glued to your face as he pressed further, fingers threading deeper into you. He could feel everything, the twitch of your thighs, the clench of your cunt. You reached out with one hand, using the other to balance yourself, and closed it around his elbow, your fingers digging into the thick fabric so hard he was shocked your nails didn’t bite right through.

“How do you like it, Sweets?” he asked, leaning forward until he was nearly hovering over you. Your hand moved from his elbow to chest, fingers hooked in his armour. “Tell me what you need.”

Your hand moved again, this time moving straight down his front, past his waist, right between his legs. His cock throbbed as you palmed him, a cat-like grin on your lips as you tilted your head level with the visor. You leaned up slightly, pressed your lips to the beskar edge that mirrored his jaw. Another squeeze, and the slow pace of his fingers faltered, his head nearly smacking into yours. “I need this.”

Din couldn’t hold back anymore. Something in the way you stared up at him, eyes tracing over the helmet, told him you didn’t want him to.

“I like it rough.”

It all happened in one fluid motion. He pulled you closer, right off the edge of the table, and you spun in his grip, leaning forward over the table, planting your hands flat. The jumpsuit slid further towards your ankles and you arched your back, your ass grinding against his hardness, and Din groaned audibly, tilting his head towards the ceiling. Your legs spread as much as the jumpsuit would allow, and Din worked his own zipper down, freeing himself from the flight-suit. You made the most delicious noise as the tip of his cock smacked against your ass, the tip dripping with precum.

Your head turned as he took himself in hand, tapping your ass with his cock again. “Maker,” you breathed out, your eyes widening. “I knew you’d be big.”

Beneath the helmet, Din turned crimson.

He planted his other hand between your shoulders, tipping you forward. You went willingly, eyes rolling back as he pushed his hips against your ass. He could see how wet you were as you bent, slick still dripping down your thighs.

There was nothing stopping him from dropping to his knees right then and there, lifting the helmet just enough to drag his tongue through your cunt. The thought alone made his cock pulse.

But then your hand reached back, twisting in the fabric covering his hip, and he couldn’t wait any longer. He bent his knees slightly, notching himself at your entrance, and pushed inside.

The noise you let out was nearly enough to make him cum right then and there. He knew he wasn’t gonna last, and judging by the sounds you continued to make and the way you were bearing down on him, hands clenched into fists on the tabletop, he didn’t think you were either. He set a fast pace, the space filling with the slick sound of him driving in and out of you, your moans echoing each move. Din’s gaze dropped, trained on the sight of his cock disappearing to you. Your hand flapped at his hip, scrabbling for purchase, and he wrapped his fingers around your forearm, groaning when you did the same.

He was right; you didn’t last long, and neither did he. Your entire body clenched as you came, one hand slamming against the table, nails digging deep into his wrist. It spurred his own orgasm, that coil at the base of his spine snapping, and he pulled out, cumming hard across the curve of your ass.

Silence settled over the both of you as you caught your breath. Din couldn’t help himself, rubbing his bare fingers over the expanse of your back, tracing over your spine. You arched a bit into his touch, making a satisfied noise before you lifted yourself off the table. You turned to him, leaned up to press a hot kiss to his bare throat. It made him shiver.

“Think we could do that again?” you murmured, lifting a finger and dragging it along the edge of his helmet. “Maybe you take all the metal off.”

Din cleared his throat, trying to ignore the way his cock twitched, already wanting a second round. “Helmet stays on.”

You stared at him a long moment, smile on your lips. “Helmet stays on.”

+

He kept close to you after that night. He rarely took bounties that took him to further reaches of the galaxy, loathe to admit that he was always within a few parsecs of your hangar. He brought you a long-distance commlink so he could tell you when he was coming back, so you could contact him if you ever needed him. He didn’t worry about you, per se; you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, and he knew for a fact you knew how to shoot the blaster you kept holstered on your thigh when he wasn’t around.

But then the comm went quiet. He called, you didn’t answer. A lead weight formed in his stomach, and he pushed the Crest’s engines are fast as they’d go. Carefully, though — he wouldn’t dare ruin any of your handiwork.

When he landed in the hangar, the lights were all off. It didn’t help his worry, and it only grew worse as he sprinted off the Crest, heading straight for the shop door.

It was locked, but the lock was no match for his vibroblade and a bit of brute force. Inside, the space was empty. no trace of you left inside. There was no sign of a struggle, no blood smeared on the floor or the wall, but it didn’t ease his mind any. What if someone had come for you, spirited you away in the dead of night to some backwater planet? Dank farrik, what if someone had put out a bounty on you? His mind reeled, raced, chewed him up and spit him out.

He never meant to get so attached to you.

Din switched the settings on his visor, finally determining that all the footprints he could make out on the floor were your own. Then he saw it, sitting on the edge of one of the shelves in the kitchen. The commlink, perched precariously, just enough out of sight that no one else would think twice, but not Din.

He thumbed through the screen, saw the icon flashing with a recorded message. Your face lit up the screen instantly, and he stifled the way his stomach clenched. You looked…scared. Not hurt, not injured, but scared.

“Someone sold me out,” you said, your voice distorted and warped. “I can’t give you details. I can’t really tell you anything. Just know I’m going somewhere safe, and I’ll miss you, Mandalorian. Take care of yourself.”

Your eye were shiny as you reached out to cut the recording, and Din’s heart sank into his toes.

He put the commlink in his pocket, and returned to his ship.

He’d watched the message so many times the words were engraved into his brain. The change in your voice, the way you’d blinked harder the more you spoke. The way you paused in the middle, glanced over your shoulder with a shock of fear in your eyes.

And now here you are, standing in front of him, a pile of metal spilling out of a crate tucked beneath your arm, that same streak of fear in those big eyes. Eyes that have haunted him all these years. You nearly drop the crate as you crouch, your gaze zeroing in on the wound on his leg. “Maker, Mando, what the hell did you do?”

“Long story,” he groans out, wincing as you adjust his leg slightly, leaning to the side so you can get a better look. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” you reply, getting back to your feet, retrieving your crate of parts. “C’mon, let me clean you up. You look like hell.”

Din goes willingly, not sure what else to do, his mind racing from the combination of the Covert and you appearing out of nowhere. He lets you pull him slowly to his feet, tuck yourself under his arm. “Sweets,” he starts to protest, but you drag his arm around your shoulders.

“Shush,” you whisper, glancing around as you start to lead him in the opposite direction he’d been going. “Lean your weight on me.” He does as you say, nearly crumbling with relief. “There you go.”

The ache only worsens as you go, Din resisting the urge to lean his head against yours. When you finally turn him towards the door, he thinks he may topple over completely, but you’re quicker, producing a remote from your pocket. The door slides open, revealing the inside of a hangar, and you all but carry him through, discarding the crate of parts the moment you’re through, hitting the button again once you’re inside. The door slides shut, and Din lifts his head enough to look around. It looks nearly identical to your old hangar.

Then he hears a curious little beep, and looks down to see a tiny droid scurrying towards you. A BD-1 unit; he recognizes it from Peli’s, though yours is a little more rusty around the edges, the cleaner bits of metal painted grey and yellow. “Not now, Shrimp,” you grit, waving at the droid. It beeps loudly back at you, like an arguing child, and Din stifles his laugh.

“I thought you didn’t use droids,” he mumbles.

“He came with the hangar,” you reply, moving him across the hangar. Shrimp follows a few more steps before darting off, disappearing into a pile of crates. “Couldn’t bring myself to scrap him. Besides, not like he’s much help; tiny thing can’t even lift a socket wrench.”

He laughs out loud this time, and when you pull him into the shop, he laughs again, despite himself.

There’s a shelf of sweets above the workbench.

There’s no curtain between the shop and the apartment, instead another sliding door, another remote. Din lets out a low hum when he sees the apartment beyond. More than one room, furnished with actual furniture. It’s…nice. It’s really nice.

You deposit him on the couch, propping his leg up on the table in front of it. “Wait here,” you mumble, pointing a finger at him before disappearing into another room. 

He doesn’t move, but hooks his fingers into the edge of his helmet and yanks it off, depositing it on the couch beside him. He sucks down a breath of unfiltered air.

You gasp as you walk back into the room, nearly dropping the silver case in your hand. “Mando, you—”

“Din,” he says instantly, reaching down, tugging his gloves off, tossing them onto the helmet. “My name is Din Djarin.”

“Din,” you repeat, slowly, like you’re tasting his name on your tongue. The corner of your mouth quirks. “Din…Djarin.”

He just nods. You approach him carefully, like you’re walking towards an injured animal instead of a man, the silver case clutched against your chest.

“Your helmet,” you start, gesturing vaguely. A memory sparks. He told you before — not in so many words — about his Creed, his upbringing. You’d asked, and he’d answered. It wasn’t information he gave willingly. The second time he had you, when you were sprawled out completely naked on that old futon, writhing and moaning beneath him, when he’d shed almost all his beskar, felt the warmth of your body pressed up against all of him. Afterward, when you’d both been sated for the time being, you’d peered up at him from your place on his chest. “Do you ever take it off?” you asked, your voice laced with sleep.

And he’d answered.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says now, eyes darting towards the curve of silver. “I’m not a Mandalorian anymore.”

“What?” you ask, your brow furrowing. He wants to reach out, let his thumb ride the space between your eyebrows, feel it smooth over as he kisses the spot. “What does that mean?”

“It means…” He trails off. Loaded question. What does it mean? Truly? “My name is Din Djarin.”

There’s still confusion etched into your features, but you don’t question him further. Your brow doesn’t loosen, and you perch on the table.

“What’s in the case?” he asks, jutting his chin towards the silver case still in your hands.

You look at him for a long moment, eyes sweeping over his face, over his features. Like you’re committing him to memory. He’s doing the same, almost scrutinizing your face, trying to remember what it looks like without the filter of his visor, what you truly look like, with no barriers in between.

He could taste you easily now.

The thought catches him off guard, the throb between his legs a welcome change to the pulsing of the wound on his thigh. The bacta the Covert had given him has worn off almost completely, and the pain is climbing. 

“B-bacta shot,” you stutter out, shaking your head slightly as you flipped open the case. Your eyes moved to the wound on his leg, peering at the plates of beskar, the flight-suit, the discarded helmet on the couch. “That needs to be cleaned.”

Din just nods.

“Think you can walk to the bedroom?” you ask, shoving the silver case into the chest pocket of your jumpsuit. He recognizes it — the tear in the knee, the patch on your thigh. You fixed the zipper. “It’ll be easier.”

It’s slow-going, getting him back to his feet, shuffling carefully to the bedroom. You ask him if he wants to bring the helmet; he just shakes his head.

What does that mean?

Your bed is unmade, but Din barely notices. The scent of you is amplified in here, and he’s sucking down breaths like he’s been deprived of oxygen. You help him lower to the edge of the bed, and he starts on the armour. You sink to your knees in front of him, setting the bacta shot on the mattress beside him. He removes a pauldron with shaking fingers, and you’re right there to take it from him, your movements sure, setting the metal carefully onto the floor, waiting for the next piece.

“You disappeared,” he says, after more pieces of beskar have been removed, when you’ve moved onto his boots, setting them both carefully at your side.

Your brow had just smoothed out, and it pinches again. “I had to. I left you a message.”

Din pulls the zipper on his flight-suit, reaches into the pocket sewn into the lining, and produces the commlink. “I know.”

Your lips part as you look at the piece of metal, dwarfed by his hand. “You found it.”

“I did.”

Bottom lip caught between your teeth, you look back up at him through your lashes. “It wasn’t safe.”

“You’re safe now,” he says, and you reach for the bacta shot. “Tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” you reply, your voice bordering on stern. “Somebody sold me out.”

“I knew that much,” Din mumbles, and you shoot him a glare.

You sigh. “Let’s just say, there were some parts in the hangar that shouldn’t have been there, someone wasn’t happy with some work I did, and then next thing I knew, there were Imps on my tail. So I disappeared.”

“You could have told me where you were going.”

You shake your head. “They were listening. Tracking every message I sent out. I couldn’t let you get roped into it too.”

“You could have gone to the Guild,” he says. He’s too distracted to notice you pull the syringe out of the case. He doesn’t see the needle until you’re pushing it into his muscle above the wound. He grits his teeth audibly, hands curling hard around the edge of the mattress. “Dank farrik.”

“Sorry.”

“I would have come for you,” he says, breath hitching in his throat as you push the plunger down. It feels like his body has been flooded with ice water, his teeth chattering for a moment before the cold turns to a woozy sort of warmth that spreads through his chest like Corellian fire whiskey. He blinks hard, slow, one eye than the other.

“Can you stand?” He nods. Or thinks he does. “The bacta will help, but I need to put a bandage on that wound, at least.” More nodding. He’s vaguely aware of you draping his arms around your neck, your arms sliding around his waist to haul him up. He plants his feet beneath him, forces his weight over his ankles. His movements are slow, languid, like he’s moving through water. You manoeuvre one arm out of his flight-suit, pushing the fabric down his shoulders, until it settles around his hips. The metallic sound of the zipper seems to echo through his brain, and he knows you’re touching his waist, moving the fabric slowly over his injured thigh. But it doesn’t hurt.

All he can feel is you.

You sit him down again, work on pulling the suit off completely. Your hands are warm, soft, gentle against his bare legs, and he nearly buries his nose in the crown of your head when you bend down. Once the flight-suit has been removed, leaving him in his boxers and undershirt, you disappear again, and Din’s not sure if it’s thirty seconds or thirty minutes.

Something cold presses against his thigh, and he flinches. “Does it hurt?” you ask instantly, and your voice is clear, then muffled, then clear again. “It shouldn’t.”

“Nuh-uh,” he slurs out. He hears you laugh, and the sound is like tinkling bells. He wants to hear it again. “Sweets.”

“Yes, Din?” Clear, muffled. His name is a song on your lips.

“You’re beautiful.”

“So are you.”

“Mesh’la,” he mumbles, and then his eyes fall shut, his body slumps back, and he thinks you laugh again. He’s not quite sure; sleep is too busy yanking him under.

+

Din wakes to the sound of running water.

He’s disoriented, confused, not sure where he is until he pushes up on his elbows, looks around, drinks in the sight of your bedroom. The memory floods back; the Covert, then the hangar, taking the helmet off, the bacta shot that knocked him out.

But more importantly: you.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes. How long was he out? He can’t be sure; there’s a window on the far side of the room, but time on Glavis is different, artificial nighttime and starlight instead of sun. His armour has been moved from the floor, neatly piled on a dresser against the wall, his boots on the floor underneath. His flight-suit is spread out on a worktable in the middle of the room, and he can see from his spot that you’ve tried to mend it, patching the spot the Darksaber had cut open with a square of fabric. It’s looks to be the same kind of material, but the colour is darker. Beneath the sheets, his leg is wrapped in cotton bandages, and there’s no sign of blood seeping to the surface.

His head turns in the direction of the noise of the water, and he pauses, waits for some kind of pain to prick through his body, but it never comes. He feels…good. Well-rested. His eyes follow the sound, and then he sees it.

The door to your bathroom is wide open, and from his spot on your bed, he can see directly into the shower. You’re inside, steam pouring over the top of the glass wall, and Din’s whole body jerks. He never forgot what you looked like naked, and it’s been a long time, but somehow it still feels like the first time. He can feel the blood rushing south, and his hands clench in the bedsheets.

He just stares, watching the water move over you, cascading down your spine, rolling in rivulets over your curves, following the lines of your body. He wants to follow them too, wants to read you like a map only he knows the key to.

Dank farrik, he’s missed you. He hadn’t realized how much.

The water shuts off, and he sees you reach for a towel, wiping your face first. He sinks back down on the bed, wondering if he should feign sleep, feeling like a kid caught doing something he’s not supposed to. But before he can— “You’re awake,” he hears you call, and looks back just as you wrap the towel around your middle. “I thought you’d be out for the night.”

Din coughs, shifting the blankets, trying to hide the tent that’s formed in his boxers. “You don’t close the door?” He doesn’t know what else to say.

You laugh. “I live alone,” you say, stepping out of the bathroom, walking towards the dresser his armour sits upon. “Force of habit.”

He clears his throat. Loudly. Pauses. “…it’s a nice view.”

Your tongue peeks between your lips as you walk over to him, still in just the towel. Your hair is still dripping, water droplets dotting your shoulders. You sink slowly onto the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”

“G-good,” he spits out, adjusting himself, making more room for you. “Really good.”

The corner of your mouth quirks. “I’m glad. You scared me, Man—” You catch yourself. “Din.”

A drop of water splashes down from your hair, starts a path down your upper arm, and Din reaches out, catching it on his finger. You watch his hand, lips softly parted, and he continues the path, drawing his hand up and down your skin, the backs of his knuckles against your bicep.

“I wondered where you were, all these years,” you whisper. There’s longing in your voice, he notices; the same feeling sits like a weight on his chest. “I never stopped wondering.”

“I’ll tell you sometime,” he whispers back. There’s something forming in the air between you, thick like the steam that still foams from the open bathroom. Din can almost taste it, and the thought he’d had in your living room resurfaces, making him twitch beneath the sheets. He could taste you so easily now. “It’s a long story.”

The corner of your mouth quirks. “I got nothing but time.”

So does he, he realizes. He’s without a ship, without his son, without anything anchoring him to one planet or another, to any sort of path. He’d been wandering already, trying to find the Covert, and now he is unmoored once more, yet somehow managed to find his way back to your hangar.

To your bed.

His hand stops chasing water droplets, and he sees your teeth sink into your lower lip. He lowers his palm until it rests on your bare thigh, and he can feel how your skin is still hot from the shower. “I never kissed you,” he rasps. “Before.”

Your head shakes slowly, and you turn towards him more fully. The towel is loose around your chest, your hand holding it in place, and he reaches for it, slowly uncurling your fingers from the fabric, until your grip falls slack, and the towel goes with it. “You should fix that,” you murmur.

“I’m out of practice.”

Your lips twitch again. “How bad?”

“Few decades,” he says softly. “Since before I swore the Creed.”

“You were a child.”

“It was a childish kiss.” He pauses, moves his hand again, brushes dripping locks of hair from your face. “I don’t want to kiss you like that.”

“Just…” Din leans in slightly, tilts his head to the side. “Do what feels natural.” You mirror his movement, and his eyes are glued to your mouth, to the way your lips stay parted even when you’re done speaking, the way your collar lifts with shuddered breaths. He sees your hands move the towel out of the corner of his eye, pulling the fabric away from your body completely until you’re bared to him, head to toe.

You’re just as beautiful as he remembers. If not more.

The tip of his nose drags along the slope of yours, and his hand slides from your thigh to your hip. “I need you closer, Sweets,” he murmurs, and you nod against him, your foreheads tapping together. There’s a bit of shuffling, the blankets moved back, his tented boxers exposed but barely acknowledged as you climb into his lap. He revels in the way you look above him, your knees pressed either side of his hips. You’re hesitant to lower your weight onto his leg, and he guides you slow, giving you a quiet it’s okay as you settle onto him.

He doesn’t feel any pain; he just feels you.

Once you’re comfortable, your hands clutching at his shoulders, he adjusts his grip on you, palms skimming up your spine, mapping out your ribs and the curve of your ass. You make a quiet noise when he squeezes one cheek, the movement propelling you forward, making your hips roll into his, your core pushed against his hard cock. It makes him hiss with pleasure, and he slides one hand up to your hair, knotting his fingers in it and dragging your mouth down to his.

It’s not artful; he’s sure it doesn’t look pretty from the outside. There’s a lot of teeth and tongue, the fumble of hands as he tries to get you even closer. He’s sure you’ve been kissed better than this, and it makes his cheeks heat, makes him pull away, tucking his chin towards his chest. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Hey,” you say softly, your hands moving to cup his cheeks, tilting his face back up towards you. “It’s okay. Just…follow my lead?” You say it like a question, your thumbs swiping over his face, through the smatter of facial hair along his jaw. “I got you.”

Din nods, lets his lips part as you cock your head to the side, leaning in slow. You kiss his top lip and then his bottom one, giving him just enough teeth that he wants more, wants it harder. He grips your hips as you move, but your kiss stays tender, slow, your tongue a wet heat against his own. He’d dreamed of this, of kissing you, and this one — albeit the second attempt — is everything he ever imagined.

Finally, your mouth grows more insistent. He’s hard as steel between his legs, and he can feel how hot you are, your wetness spreading across his boxers with every roll of your hips. Your mouth is sweet, almost sugary, and he finds himself chuckling against your lips, still trying to get you closer. Your stomach presses to his as you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him harder, your tongue licking into his mouth.

“Sweets,” he grinds out when you start pulling at his undershirt, insistent to get it over his head. He lets you, and when you lower your head again, your mouth moves to his throat instead, and it makes him moan. “Mesh’la, wait, please, I need—”

You pull back instantly, your eyes bright with worry. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“I want…” His eyes drop, tracing a path down your body, his throat growing dry when they land on the apex of your thighs, the glistening wetness he knows he’s caused. He lets one hand follow the path his eyes made, rubs his thumb over your clit. Your whole body shivers. “I want to taste you.”

Your eyes go big, pupils blown with lust, and Din uses your momentary shock to his advantage. He’s stronger than you, perks of the bounty hunting lifestyle, and he flips you easily with one arm around your waist, his other hand hitching your thigh over his hip. You squeak as your head hits the pillows, clinging to him until you’re laid out beneath him.

It’s his turn to kiss his way down your throat, and he does, laving his tongue against your pulse as he makes his way down your body. He pauses at your chest, moves to the side to close his lips around your nipple. It makes your back arch, a high-pitched noise falling from your mouth, and he grins against you, giving you just the edge of his teeth before he’s wandering across your chest to give the other the same attention.

You’re a writhing mess by the time he’s settled between your thighs. He can’t keep his eyes still, raking over every inch of you, trying to remember every part. He can see the muscles in your legs jump as he traces his fingers over them, the more sensitive parts of your skin making you keen.

With your legs spread, he can see everything, and his mouth waters at the sight of your wet cunt, walls fluttering around nothing as he teases you with his fingers, collecting your wetness on the tips before drawing them to his mouth.

He moans at the taste. Of course, you’re sweet. Deliciously so.

“Din,” you groan out, propping yourself up on your elbows. He can feel you watching, and his gaze flicks up to yours as he drops his jaw, lowers his mouth to you. Your eyes roll back for a moment, one hand moving to knot in his hair, and Din moans into you. His tongue explodes with the taste of you, sending shocks down his spine, making his hips rolls into the mattress, seeking relief.

Just do what feels natural, your words echo in his head. So he does. He licks into you, wide stripes with the flat of his tongue, smaller kitten licks to your clit. He can’t get enough of your taste, hooking his hands around your thighs, pulling himself deeper into you. And you guide him some, your hand in his hair an anchor of sorts, tugging slightly to get him right where you need him, a gasped oh fuck, right there! reaching his ears.

It’s not before long that you’re smacking at his shoulder, muffled moans on your lips with your teeth sunk into your lower one. He detaches from you, gets one more good look and lick in before he’s following your grip, kissing every inch of you he can reach as he makes his way back up your body.

“I need you inside me,” you slur, your hands reaching down, pushing at his boxers. His cock springs up against his stomach and he groans, the sound growing louder when you wrap your fingers around him. “Please, Din, I want to cum on your cock.”

It’s a miracle he doesn’t cum right then and there, hearing your words turn filthy. And filthier still as he hauls himself over you, plants one elbow beside your head, looks between you, reaches down to line himself up and—

Freezes.

He can feel your eyes on his face, features pinched with anticipation. Your hands have found homes along his ribs, fingers tapping out rhythmless patterns. Hips lifting, you must see something in his expression, because you move a hand to his chin, lifting his eyes to yours again. “Din,” you say, and a shiver shoots down his spine again at the way his name sounds on your lips. “It’s okay. We can stop, if you need to.”

“No!” he nearly shouts, and feels himself flush, lowering himself slightly, careful not to drop all his weight on you. “No, that’s not what I…I don’t…”

“Don’t what?” you murmur. Your voice is quiet, understanding. You give a soft laugh. “I know you’re not a virgin, but if you don’t want to, it’s okay, I won’t say any—”

“It’s not that,” he cuts you off, petting his hand over your still-damp hair. “I want to. I want you. It’s just that…” He chews at his lip. “No one’s ever seen my face, while we…when I…”

Realization slides through your features. “Oh.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t have to look,” you say quickly, skimming your knuckles along his cheek. “I can turn over, if you like, if that’s easier than—”

“No,” he says, not a shout this time, but firmer. “I want you to see, Sweets.” He drops his chin, emboldened by your softness, your understanding. He kisses you soundly. “I want to kiss you while you cum.” His words pull a silky noise from your throat.

He breaks the kiss as he takes himself in hand, pushes into your dripping cunt. You’re hot, clenching down on him instantly, arms draped around his neck as he lowers himself further, latches his lips to yours. He hitches one of your legs high on his hip, drives into you deep. He had you close on his tongue already, and he rolls his hips hard, catching something deep inside that makes your entire body seize.

“Yes, Din, please, oh gods, please, please, please,” you’re babbling against his lips, one hand pressed flat between his shoulders, the other knotted in the back of his hair. “Yes!”

Just as he said, he kisses you while you cum. He feels it pulse through your body, your limbs taut and then lax, still holding him close. Your hips chase his, cunt clenching tight as a vice, and Din’s not far behind you, pleasure lighting a fuse down his spine.

You pull your lips from his just as he starts to spill in you. Your hand moves to grip his chin, and you force his gaze to yours. He gasps and your mouth mirrors his, lips parted in a soft o, turning to a grin as he grinds into you, painting your insides as deep as he can go. It feels like an implosion, his bones rattled in his body, but then set on the softest bed of silk as he collapses into your chest. You hold him close, petting one hand through his hair, breathing deep and slow until his own evens out, matches yours, until your heartbeat syncs with his.

“Mesh’la?” he calls after a moment, cheek still pressed to your sternum.

“Yes, Din?” you reply, your voice scratchy as your nails start to drag along his scalp. His eyes are heavy.

“I missed you.”

He can hear the smile in your voice. “I missed you too.”

+

Din wakes alone in your bed again.

He thinks it’s the next morning — the rest of what he assume to be evening was spent in your bed, both of you naked and wrapped in each other. Again and again and again, he pulled pleasure from your body, let you pull it from his, found your bliss together. By the time you were both too tired to move, sprawled on the mattress, your head on his shoulder, you’d whispered, “You’re a good kisser, Din Djarin.” And then you were asleep, Din not too far behind.

He dresses quickly, boxers pulled back on, undershirt in his hand as he pads out of the room. He finds you standing in the kitchen, a steaming cup of caf in your hands. The droid — Shrimp, he dimly recalls — is perched on the table, beeping out a message to you. You’re nodding along, blowing the steam off the top of your caf, and your eyes flick to him as he steps into the kitchen.

“You know Peli Motto?”

Din’s brow crinkles with confusion. “You know Peli?”

You scoff. “That woman taught me everything I know.”

“You’re joking.”

“Swear on my hangar.”

Din just laughs, walking around the table. He slides an arm around your waist once he’s close enough, leans into kiss the side of your head. You lean into him. “Why are we talking about Peli?”

“She sent me a message,” you say, offering him your caf. He takes a sip, only feeling more confused. “Asking if I had any spare ships laying around my hangar. A replacement for her Mandalorian friend.”

Din balks. He hasn’t told you about the Crest. “Sweets…”

You step away from him, pressing a hand to his chest as your eyes go wide with realization. “Din Djarin, what did you do to that ship?”

“I didn’t—”

“Din.”

“It was Imps,” he says, trying to reach for your hip. “It wasn’t—”

“Where is the Razor Crest?”

He sighs heavily, and reaches out to take the cup of caf from you again. “Now it’s nothing but a scorch mark on the planet Tython. It was the Imps. They took my son.” The words are out before he can stop them.

Your eyes go so wide he’s worried they might pop out of your skull. “Your son?”

“It’s a long story.”

You pluck the caf out of his hands, walk around the table, pull out a chair and sink into it. “I got nothing but time.”

[ashwhowrites]

Love your older Eddie!

Picturing him working somewhere with a sweet, sunshine-y younger woman. Maybe a restaurant or store? He’s got a crush on her, but she’s always getting hit on by the younger, flashier guys who work there so he never thinks he’d have a chance. To hide his feelings he’s been a standoffish grump, so he can’t believe it when she reveals she has a crush on him at the work holiday party.

Angst/fluff/smut whatever you like - I know anything you write will be amazing! Thank you ❤️

I love older Eddie! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting <3

Work crush

Working at a small restaurant that focused more on the younger crowd, wasn't the exact job Eddie pictured for himself. But after his car shop got shut down, he just needed anyway to make cash. In a way, it was like he had to start over.

He didn't enjoy how much older he was than everyone else who worked and dined there. He worked with young twenty-year-olds who needed cash throughout college and served bratty teenagers. Other than the cook, he was the oldest one there.

His older looks and charm got him good tips. Younger girls enjoyed the flirtation and teasing games. Eddie delivered that as much as he did their food.

He hated the younger guys he worked with. They were loud, annoying, and sucked at their job. Eddie had to cover their slack as they snuck out back for smoke breaks. But there was one worker that Eddie secretly adored, Y/N.

She was also young, part of a group of annoying guys. But she was polite, hard-working, and sweet. She brightened the restaurant up whenever she walked in. She made Eddie feel butterflies and he loved watching her happiness rub off on everyone. Many people requested her, she was one of the best. And she was damn beautiful. Which sadly, everyone noticed.

Eddie lost count the many times he overheard her being asked out, by customers and the employees. Eddie couldn't help but compare himself to the guys that asked her out. They were all young and looked like they'd be on the cover of a magazine. Eddie was nothing like that, he didn't stand a chance.

When she turned down Beck, even Eddie was shocked. Beck was the heartthrob of the restaurant, almost every girl signed their number with their receipts. He was tall, and fit, with blue eyes and dirty blonde curly hair. He was sweet and polite, and Eddie hated to admit he was perfect. If perfect Beck couldn't get her to say yes, Eddie knew there was no hope for him.

With that realization, he didn't tease himself with the thought. He kept his space and didn't get to know her. He knew if he learned about her, he'd fall for her even more. It was safer to not know who she was. He just admired her from afar. He smiled to himself when he heard her sweet laugh. And he tried not to punch Beck across the face when he flirted with her his whole shift.

~~~

Tonight was the holiday party and Eddie didn't plan to go. He didn't want to party with a group of kids, he felt too old for that shit. The party was at a bar, and the owner had the dumb idea of everyone wearing Christmas sweaters. Eddie didn't own anything like that and he wasn't going to spend a dime to wear the ugly thing once.

Eddie cleaned up his last few tables, the restaurant closed early for their event. He pocketed the tip, ignoring the lipstick kiss and number written on the receipt.

"Poor girl, she was probably hoping you'd call." Eddie jumped as a voice came from behind him. He quickly turned to see Y/N standing there. A teasing smile on her face.

"I think she'll be fine," Eddie said, scooting into the booth to clean the table. He watched as Y/N took a seat across from him. She silently watched as he worked. Her eyes were on his arms and hands.

"Any numbers for you today?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, but not interested." She shrugged. She patted the table, a hint for Eddie to sit down. Eddie threw the towel on the table and took a seat. He didn't want to be that rude to her face.

"Never are." He teased, she smirked and moved on.

"Are you going tonight?" Eddie tried not to roll his eyes at the question.

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Why would I?" He argued back

"It's a work party, you work here and you're invited." She said, pointing out the obvious.

"Nah, it would be like a dad hanging out with college kids. It's embarrassing. And I'm not wearing an ugly Christmas sweater."

"Yeah, but it would be like the hot dad you secretly want around. The kind where you go to your friend's house every weekend just to see her dad shirtless in the morning." Y/N said, a certain look in her eye. A look Eddie got from many of his customers. She was flirting....with him. "I have a bunch of my dad's old Christmas sweaters, I'll bring you one!" She stood up excitedly. Like she declared he's going.

"You think I'm hot?" Eddie asked, he couldn't help a tiny smirk that crossed his face. Everyone flirted with her, and she picked to flirt with him.

"I do and I know you'll look hot in the sweater. See you tonight." Eddie stared at her ass as she walked off.

"I'M NOT GOING!" he yelled after her. He heard her sweet laugh and the bell on the door.

~~~

Eddie groaned as he pulled up to the bar. He was two hours late. Mostly because he was debating if he was going to come or not.

He walked into the bar and scanned the room. He found a few of his coworkers scattered around. A few at the pool table, a few at the bar top, and a few in the back booth. He walked to the bar, at least he got to drink through it.

He held his drink and looked for her. He didn't want to make it obvious, but he knew he didn't care who was there, he came for her.

"EDDIE!"

Eddie turned to see a tipsy Y/N, her hands in the air as she raced into his chest. She crushed him in a hug. Eddie slowly hugged her back.

"I knew you'd come!" She said as she pulled back. She was decked out in Christmas wear. An antler headband, that he'd hate if anyone else wore it. But of course, it looked adorable. Red eyeliner and dark lashes. Her lips were red and Eddie stared at them for too long. Her Christmas sweater was full of printed-on lights. A few real lights that flickered. She had a black skirt, tights and black boots. She was glowing.

"Did you know?" Eddie teased, smiling down at her as she leaned on the bar for support.

"Of course. I knew once you found out I wanted you to come, that you would come. " She explained. She grabbed his hand, slightly tripping on her feet.

"Woah okay. Maybe you should sit." Eddie laughed, he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"No! We gotta go to my car for your sweater!" She argued, she didn't move away from his touch. She loved the feeling of his arm wrapped around her and the way she could smell his cologne. "Just help me." She said and began walking.

After a few stumbles and many laughs, they made it to her car. She unlocked it and grabbed the sweater from the seat. She slammed the door shut and leaned against it. Eddie removed his touch from her as he grabbed the sweater.

"Put it on!" She said she looked so excited and Eddie didn't have the heart to say no. He gagged on the inside but sucked it up.

"I gotta change my shirt so let's go inside." He said but she didn't move.

"don't be silly. Just change here. I'll cover my eyes." She threw her hands over her eyes, a giggly smile on her face. She was somehow even more adorable drunk.

Eddie didn't fight on it. He took off his jacket and placed it on the top of her car. He took a deep breath, preparing for his skin to hit the cold. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt with one hand and yanked it off. He let it drop to the floor as he put his arms in the sweater, as he pulled it on over his head, he heard a small squeak.

He could see Y/N's fingers split open, allowing her to see through. Eddie felt his cheeks warm at the thought of her peeking.

"Did you just squeak?" He asked, trying to hold back a smile.

"No" she mumbled, embarrassed.

"I can see that you're still peeking." Eddie laughed, she groaned and dropped her hands.

"I couldn't help it! You can't be this hot older guy that I want to ruin my life and expect me to just not stare at you." Sober her wished she'd stop talking.

"Ruin your life? That sounds like a bad thing." Eddie said confused.

"It means I have this huge crush on you. I see you flirt with those young girls and I hate that you never did it with me. I hate that everyone flirts with me, and you haven't." She pouted, she crossed her arms as she sighed sadly.

Eddie let out a small smile, moving closer. He lifted her chin with his finger and leaned down.

"I didn't flirt with you because everyone else got shot down. I didn't think I'd be different. But now that you are loose with your lips, I can admit I've been attracted to you since your first day."

Y/N felt her heart skip multiple beats. She couldn't believe the words he said, but the reality of his lips pressed against hers made her believe. She uncrossed her arms and wrapped her arms around him. Her palms were against his back as he deepened the kiss.

She wasn't sure if the alcohol or the kiss made her dizzy.

~~~

"Where the hell is Y/N? She got sat like ten minutes ago!"

"Where is Munson? His table has been waiting for the check for an hour!"

"I think we need to get back to work," Y/N whined, her hands against the door.

Eddie stood behind her, his hands gripping her hips as his cock pounded inside of her. The harder he went the more she cried. She felt her legs go weak as she tried to keep herself up.

"Not until I cum." Eddie grunted.

~~~

"Anything else I can get for you?" Y/N asked the pen smacking against the notepad. She tried not to seem annoyed with the rowdy group of male teenagers.

"You on the menu?" She tried not to roll her eyes. An unpleased look on her face.

"No, but my boyfriend serves up a delicious knuckle sandwich if you want to try it." She said with a glare.

The boy whistled, almost like her attitude made it more fun.

The second she felt the boy's hand touch her thigh, she snapped.

"EDDIE!"

Tags!

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[writingwithfolklore]

Level Up Your Descriptions

I learnt a tip for resume writing that I find applies pretty well to novel writing too. Essentially, you shouldn’t write on your resume that you took orders and handled cash at the till at your restaurant job because people already know what a server does. You should write the unexpected or unique things you bring to the job.

Same with writing descriptions in fiction. There are certain things that people are going to automatically assume about others, about a place, about a thing. For example, you wouldn’t say, “she grabbed out brown coffee” or “the car drove on four wheels.” Because when we think coffee, we already think brown/beans, and when we think car, we already think four wheels.

                This seems obvious, until you consider that mentioning that the café is warmly decorated, cozy, and is full of writers working on manuscripts and people catching up over coffee is… exactly that. While maybe a baseline of information like this is appropriate, all you needed to say was ‘café’ and we’re already in this image. For a setting or person that doesn’t mean much to the story, this could suffice.

                However, for an important element in the narrative, you’re going to want to bring your descriptions beyond that assumed/obvious baseline.

                We know an elderly person is going to have grey hair, shuffle slowly, and speak in a creaky voice. We might not know that their purse seems far too heavy for them, and they have a distinct smell of gunpowder that follows them into rooms.

                I’m reading a book right now by Jasper FForde called ‘Jack Spratt Investigates The Big Over Easy’ and it’s full of interesting and unexpected descriptions. Here is one of my favourites:

                “The years had been charitable to Mrs. Spratt, and despite her age she was as bright as a button and had certainly not lost any of her youthful zest. Jack put it down to quantity of children. It had either made her tough in old age or worn her out—if the latter, then without Jack and his nine elder siblings, she might have lived to one hundred ninety-six. She painted people’s pets in oils because ‘someone has to,’ collected small pottery animals, Blue Baboon LPs and Jellyman commemorative plates. She had been widowed seventeen years.”

                Think of what things make a person or space you know well unique, and try to imbue those details into your work. What makes a place look lived in? What sort of objects or feel or smell does it have? What distinguishes your best friend from others in a crowd?

                Feel free to share a description that's really stuck with you!

[beneathashadytree]

ALL YOURS - VINSMOKE SANJI X READER

Warnings : making out, implied grinding, implied NSFW, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : spicy fluff for my love <3

Word count : 1.1K words

Additional notes : Sanji brainrot go brrrr. Love this man infinitely 🫶🏽

Tip jar if you’d like to buy me a Ko-Fi!

Masterlist

“Mon dieu…”

The breathless whimper that left Sanji would’ve been inaudible, had they not been greedily soaking up every single noise that escaped his kiss-swollen lips. Pulling back just half an inch, they looked at him through their eyelashes, trembling with effort and loaded emotions as they did.

He looked perfectly ravished, with hooded eyes and mussed tresses of blonde hair. The faint dusting of freckles of his was almost invisible underneath the blush on his flaming cheeks. His glossy lips were parted, breathing out heavy puffs of air as his chest heaved with the exertion. It was true that he always made it a point to say just how badly they’d ruined him, but seeing the results of said ruination always had pleasure shooting down their spine.

Maybe he’d gotten a little greedier over time, because now his hands were desperately clinging to the fat of their hips, tugging them even closer to him. “Easy there,” they languidly chuckled against his mouth, a sound he quickly swallowed into another open-mouthed kiss, kneading their soft skin as he did. Their teasing was all for naught, as they both knew that more was what they truly wanted.

Time was a concept lost to them. After all, this had all started when Sanji had called them to the aquarium bar, with the excuse of wanting them to taste-test a new mocktail he’d made while staying up at night. Since it was alcohol-free, they couldn’t really blame their impulsiveness on intoxication. In fact, even the mocktail was mostly untouched on the countertop, long-forgotten.

But really, were either of them surprised? When it came to their little midnight rendezvous, they never knew if it was going to be ten minutes or a few hours lost in each other’s eyes and entwined with each other’s bodies. Sanji was all lithe muscle and sharp edges and rough stubble, but he somehow carried all the world’s softness and warmth in him. It was no wonder they could barely think of anything else when tangled together.

His tongue was warm sliding against theirs, and his chest was solid underneath their palms. The lingering scent of cigarettes, musky perfume, and expensive aftershave chased after him. Every kiss felt like it would consume them whole; burn them alive down to the tips of their fingers and burrow deep into their chest. Every time their mouths met in a searing chase, he’d push up into their core, their back arching a little despite themself.

It took all the mental fortitude and strength they had to pull away with a gasp, earning a groan from Sanji who looked desperate enough to keen. “You’re cruel,” he somehow managed to whine out, “Mon amour, I’ve not yet had my fill of you—“

Pressing a single index finger to his lips was all it took to silence him. Perhaps as a sort of punishment, they even leaned in to nip at his jutted lower lip, teasing his pout. “Just a second,” they promised him, clambering off his lap before he could protest too much. “I promise I have a surprise for you.”

Smothering a laugh behind their hand knowing the disheveled state they’d left him in, clothes all messed up and so clearly aching for them that he couldn’t even bother to adjust himself, they pranced away to their room to get the box they’d hidden in their set of drawers.

It had been a hassle hiding it from any possible interlopers. After all, you never knew when Nami was about to sell off half their possessions for more cash, or if Luffy was feeling particularly curious that day and wondered if it would sink in the ocean, consequently jumping after it and nearly drowning.

At the very least, they were glad that they had the chance to get back to their sweet man, a forlorn look on his flushed face from having waited for them (what was, in his opinion) for too long. That needy expression of his could melt them with uncontrollable need. They just wish he’d never ever come to know that, or else he’d become insufferable.

Settled back in his lap, Sanji was all too eager to have them ontop of him, a curious look now on his face. “What’ve you got behind your back, my love?”

“A little gift,” they vaguely said, before thinking for a few moments. “You know how you like to wear rings?”

“Not when I’m cooking, but generally speaking, yes.” He hummed, eyes lighting up as he tried to take a peek behind them. “Oh, you really shouldn’t have, ma chéri—“

Interrupting his little rant with a kiss, that shut him up enough for them to wag a finger at him. “I’m not finished yet, you impatient man.” At that, they shifted a little in his lap. “I’d noticed that you always kept your ring finger bare. Knowing you as well as I believe I do, I think I know why that is.” Carefully, as steadily as they could manage, they pulled that small box from behind their back, popping it open with one hand while the other rested over his shirt. “But would you consider changing that now?”

A choked gasp left Sanji’s parted lips, and his eyes had turned large and glassy. The sparkling ring set into the velvet was not just impossibly gorgeous, but looked ludicrously expensive as well. He was certainly taken aback, though they hoped that it was because of him having not seen this somewhat-impromptu proposal coming, and not as a precedent to being rejected.

All that he could do was stumble over his words, his thoughts getting all jumbled up and his heart pounding furiously against their palm. “Is this… are you asking me to—?”

“Marry me, Sanji, yes.” Their laugh came out a little strained, nerves finally getting to them a little. “If you’ll have me.”

“You say this as if I’m not currently and always painfully wanting you,” he breathed out, briefly closing his eyes, before tugging them into his chest. Collapsing against him, they pretended not to know the reason why he’d hid his face into their neck, and pretended not to notice his half-sniffles. “Yes. Fuck, of course, yes.”

“That’s settled then,” they quietly said, surprised to find a lump in their throat themself. All they could do was just squeeze him back twice as tightly, their hands patting his back fondly as the embrace filled every single nook and cranny in their heart with love.

And if they happened to waste a few more hours holding each other so tight lest they break, locking the door to the aquarium bar behind them as they shared tender touches and pleasured sighs that were lost to the quiet night, then no one was to blame.

Taglist: @stories-that-shaped-me @finch-ya @wifeofkyojuro

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[madnessr]

Last Night

Poly Lost Boys + Michael x Reader

Synopsis: You remembered the day you died vividly, and what had started as one of the best nights of your life quickly turned sour.

Summary: Micheals Ex-Girlfriend received a concerning phone call from Lucy begging her to come and check up on a now distant and unrecognizable Micheal. But what was meant to be a simple reunion and check-in, instead leads to four very rambunctious bikers and an old lover, to be extremely opposed to letting you leave again.

Warning: Suggestive moments, cursing, nonconsensual turning.

Word Count: 6.9k

Part two

The bustling chatter filled the packed room like music, unrelenting as some patrons laughed louder while others cheered softer. Every customer that walked in was rambunctious and different in their own unique way. Although becoming a bartender differed from how you had always pictured your future, ditching your home life was worth every tip and penny you earned throughout the night.

You were a good actor; that's one noteworthy little fact you learned about yourself after a few weeks. Wiping dry a martini glass, your chuckles, greetings, and mischievous remarks almost felt unfamiliar to you as you entertained the customers.

But when the lights dimmed, casting a gentle orange hue against every surface of the bar. The acting, the gestures, and the remarks all began feeling natural.

It left you with a sweet sense of satisfaction, like pushing in the last puzzle piece. But, although the usuals felt more comfortable, you still weren’t to open to the idea of becoming closer to anyone. For all you knew, these people were just here for a drink.

One visit turned into two, then three, until you could recite everyone's orders and names. Your life gradually followed the same schedule as clockwork, checking in either during the morning shifts like Monday, Tuesday, and Saturday instead of staying for the wild nightlife like Wednesday, Thursday, and Sunday. A small bell was hanging above the door, giving you and your occasional coworker a heads-up whenever a new patron entered the bar. It was easy to get overwhelmed, the loud bumbling chatter nearly drowning out the music playing. Drunks laughed and cheered with rosy-cheeked grins; others decided to rough-house until Pablo kicked them out.

Filling a pint of beer for your usual customer, you nearly missed the soft chin of bells as someone new entered. The door swung open, and in came a blonde biker who took your breath away. Pulling at your strings as if he was some violinist, plucking at the cords until your chatter turned utterly harmonious. It was like a strange pull, a tugging, nudging aching within your racing heart that simply needed him there. It both excited you and disturbed you. Your banter with the biker didn't last long; he ordered four bottled beers, his gaze never wavering as you shuffled past your coworker making some margaritas for a group of girls as you grabbed the beers out of the freezer and handing them over before grabbing his cash. "You new here?" You finally asked, and you weren't exactly sure what to expect, but his voice matched his looks perfectly.

You snickered, leaning over the bar. Phoenix had some exciting faces to offer, all styles and types. But it was rare you found one that was this attractive.

The biker shrugged; a type of smugness hung across his features. A simple look in his eyes gave you another clue, the man was higher than a kite. "Just haven't seen such a pretty face around in a while." He tapped his hand on the counter with a slight chuckle, stepping back as he waved before walking out the door. You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement as you focused on the other customers. Though, you couldn't quite keep the blonde out of your head.

Not even when your shift ended, wiping a gray-soaked washcloth across the counters and tables. Your coworker cleaned and mopped the floors before you both clocked out. You entered the employee's room, grabbing your belongings before exiting through the back door. You hopped in your car, the streets still thriving, but you only lived several blocks away from the teenage hotspot when things began to gradually cool down. Luckily that's where your shabby little hut came into view.

It wasn't perfect, but decent, and the rent was cheap, so you weren't gonna complain. Parking your bike, you walked up your porch. The old wood creaking underneath your steps, shuffling to grab your keys, you couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching you. Turning to glance around, you rushed to open the door before entering your safe and humble abode. You locked the door, kicking off your shoes with a sigh as you walked towards your bedroom. You felt a little sluggish now that you were free to be, removing your clothes and hopping in the shower. The piping hot water felt heavenly across your skin, and if you weren't so damn hungry, you would've stayed longer. Loose pajamas, some fluffy socks, and you walked back into the kitchen, heating up some leftovers from the previous night and popping open a can of beer.

You were a rather heavy drinker, one bottle often turned to three, and three would often multiply sooner rather than later. Some people might have called you an alcoholic, but you didn't really mind. Alcohol was your ambrosia, and god fucking dammit, were you willing to die for that nectar. You were on your way to grab the third beer of the night when you heard a small thump against the window.

You found it odd that a bird would hit your window, especially since they weren't nocturnal. But as you wandered over and slid open the window, you watched as a bat squeaked at you. Blonde fluffy fur as it flew away in a rush. You didn't necessarily like bats, but you didn't hate the critters, either. This was your first time seeing one in real life, your eyes flicking to the tree a few feet away from your window. There on the bottom branch, hung the monster, making you laugh. "Sorry, Dracula, the bar closed two hours ago." You were about to close the window wanting to grab your last beer and finish up your movie before heading to bed.

But you halted as you watched the bat struggle on its branch, sloppily falling off and hitting the floor with a small thud. You frowned; you might not know much about bats, but they sure as hell avoided being on the ground. You hesitated before grabbing a towel and an empty shoe box; perhaps, if you were lucky enough, the bat would have flown away by the time you got to it. But unfortunately, the small little bundle of blonde fur still lay frozen on the ground. Sighing, you carefully scoop it up with the towel and lay it in the box before heading back inside.

You sat the box on the kitchen table, sitting down and taking a proper look at the thing. "You must've hit your little head when banging into the window.." You muttered, watching it stare back at you lazily. Whenever it tried to waddle its way out of the box, its little body swayed before eventually tumbling back into the fluffy fabric.

"Looks like you're stuck with me for the night, little guy." You cooed, a small smile tugging at your lips. It let out a small squeak. If you didn't know any better, you would say the bat understood you, turning around and grabbing an apple and a simple cutting knife. You sliced off a small piece, laying it in the box. You didn't know what the hell bats ate, and you weren't going to go out of your way to try and find some insect in your yard, so an apple slice will have to do for now.

Grabbing the box once more, you moved to your bedroom, entering the bathroom through a joined door. You set the box down, waving at the small bat before turning off the lights and closing the door. You got yourself settled and lay down, turning off your bedside lamp and letting out a content sigh. But then you heard it, the muffle whining and whimpers of the small creature in your bathroom. Letting out a groan, you tried covering your face with a pillow to try and drown out the noise, but it was a fruitless endeavor. Getting up with a huff, you turned on the light once more before moving over. You opened the door, flicking on the light as you watched it try and waddle towards you. "Can't you be quiet?" You groan, rubbing your temples.

However, you couldn't help but notice the silence once you had actually acknowledged the bat again, rolling your eyes at its strange antics. "Look, I can't give you attention all night. I need to sleep." You argue, watching the little creature climb up your foot and use its little claws and wings to crawl up your body.

Perhaps it was the previous drink, or your clear disregard for your own sense of self preservation, but you walked back to your bedroom with a shrug. If the little guy just had to sleep with you, then so be it. Sure, the thing could have rabies for all you new but the moment your aching feet lifted themselves onto your soft mattress; you no longer cared.

"Night night, Dracula." You snickered, closing your eyes and falling into a hollow state of peace.

Walking up, once again alone, fills you with a familiar sense of loneliness. You look around for your little companion, but you simply couldn't find him. You opened all of your windows in case you missed the little guy hiding somewhere before walking down into your kitchen for breakfast. You'd never admit it out loud, but having broken up with your long-term boyfriend, Michael, was rough on you. Half the time, you wallow in alcohol and self-loathing, spending any free time working and trying your damn hardest to move on. The relationship's end wasn't anyone's fault, really; when his father's divorce was finally settled, Michael needed to be with his mom, she needed him during this time, and you couldn't blame him for leaving with you. Looking back on it, you both could've made it work somehow, the long distance, but neither of you two found yourself to really fight for that option.

Sipping on your morning coffee was your ritual, reminiscing about your short past, a daily activity. But today, you were interrupted by the obnoxious sound of your phone ringing. Getting up and plucking the phone from the wall, your body tensed at the sweet sound of Lucy, Michaels's mother. She was the kindest person you knew, a relaxed parent that focused on a kid's trust rather than forcing the truth out from your experience.

"Hey honey, how have you been?" Her familiar, parental tone hummed over the phone. The sound tugged a smile across your lips. "Dandy, what about you, Lucy?" You knew better than to know Lucy wasn't just calling to check in with you, and although every fiber of your being wanted to cut to the chase, you managed to stay polite. Lucy let out a hum, happy with your answer. "I'm good—we're all good. But, listen, I'm sorry to call you for this, but it's about Michael." You nodded, although you knew she couldn't see you; you stayed silent, asking her to continue. "He's changed, distant. He hasn't been the same, and Sam says he's been involved with some worrisome people. I know it's a lot, but I can't help but worry. He won't talk to me, but he'll talk to you. I'll provide you with a room and everything; just please check in for me."

You could tell she was pleading; her tone was very clear with that. But could you really do this? You and Michael broke up, but you've been together since freshman year. You knew his family, and he knew yours; even if you weren't together anymore, you were still friends. With a long sigh, you rubbed your temples.

"Alright, I'll be there."

You don't plan on staying long, glancing at the backseat of your car where a small suitcase sits. You brought the essentials, but since it was summer regardless, you wanted to consider this a short beach-side vacation for yourself as well. It made coming to Santa Carla more reasonable.

Following the address Lucy promptly gave you afterward, you drove up the narrow driveway to an old-looking house. It must've been a generational home bought in the 40s if you had to guess. The sun was already setting by the time you arrived; stepping out of the car, you were greeted by an excited Lucy. However, you knew her better than that. The small stress wrinkles give away how worried she must've actually been.

She embraced you in a big bear-like hug, making you chuckle as she brought you in for some coffee. You sat inside, shielded by the hot California sun, as you stirred some creamer into your coffee. You two sat in the kitchen, a small desk separate from the main dining table.

"So, care to tell me a little more about what's been happening?" You ask, knowing that if you avoided the subject, so would Lucy. She let out a sigh, rubbing her temples as she nearly deflated before you.

"You know it's been hard for them—the divorce. Sam wasn't that close with his father; I'm afraid he experienced a more absent father figure than Micheal did. No, Micheal grew up with everything being perfect; I had a good marriage, and he had a good father and a stable home life." Lucy hummed, taking a long sip of her coffee.

"I know it wasn't easy for them. For any of us, really, but as a parent, I can't help but wonder. Did I do the right thing? Was Santa Carla really what the boys needed?"

You weren't exactly sure what to say; both you and Michael were adults at this point and were mature enough to have a conversation like this. But before Lucy was your friend, she had been more of a mother figure for you. Seeing her struggle so much makes you frown, a heaviness tugging at your lips. People really could be awful sometimes. You grabbed her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as you smiled at her.

"Listen, I know being a parent is hard. But you're a good mom, okay? You have been since the start. But you need to listen; this move wasn't just for them. It was for you as well. You suffered a shitty divorce and dealt with an even worse ex-husband. You deserve this new start; let me handle Michael; I'm sure he'll come around." You watched as small tears seemed to prickle at her eyes, "Oh you!" She sang before pulling you into a hug. "I've missed you." She added, rubbing small circles on your back. You couldn't help but smile, not saying it but letting the small squeeze you returned to the hug speak for you.

The sun had already set as you managed to unpack your things in the guest room, tackling Sam in a big-old sibling-like hug before heading to the boardwalk with him. Lucy had left a few hours earlier for work, which is where you were headed now. Sam led the way as he filled you in on Micheals's behavior. To say you were concerned now was an understatement; nothing Micheal did now made sense. This wasn't like him.

You walked over to the Videotape store and found Lucy glancing at the videotapes decorating the walls. You walked around, glancing at the movies that might interest you. You eventually ended up in the same aisle as a brown biker, someone who vaguely reminded you of the blonde one you met days ago. You were about to pick up The Shining when the man interrupted.

"You new here?" He eventually asked, his gaze lingering for an unusually long time. You struggled, letting out a dry chuckle. "That obvious, huh?" You hummed, feeling more at ease. The man was more stoic than you were used to, but the moment you heard his own amused chuckling, your tense shoulders gradually dropped. The man was mesmerizing, a special charm in every little trinket and clothes covering him. You felt an annoying sense of deja vu, feeling your heart push and pull your subconscious self towards this man. To gush about his leather jacket or talk about anything else for hours. He seemed to smile, catching your lingering gaze before clearing his throat and pointing towards one of the videotapes. "The Shining's good, but if you're into that, I'd recommend The Thing and Nightmare on Elms Street too." All you could do was nod, spinning around when you saw Lucy. She smiled at the brunette, handing you something as you rushed out of the shop. Any tapes and movies are utterly forgotten, and you search for space. You made brief eye contact with the man Lucy had been talking, feeling unsettled by him.

You walked along the patios of the shops lining the boardwalk; they were lightly covered in sand. A grainy texture underneath your shoes. You sat there for a moment before your eyes caught the sight of a familiar head of messy brown hair.

Jumping to your feet, you were off. Not sparing anyone a second glance, not until you were about to reach Micheal. You could feel it, that nostalgic giddiness you usually felt whenever you and Micheal met, but during that time, you were still together. You could jump into his arms and kiss his dimpled cheek; the sudden realization that you hadn't actually seen the brunette since you broke up made your heart squeeze. Seeing him felt more real, and the growing realization that nothing would ever be the same again made the air feel heavy.

You paused as you saw a girl with bouncy curls rush over to him, a small boy close behind as she linked their arms. You hadn't realized until then that a part of you was still clinging onto a foolish, utterly bitter sense of hope that things could return to the way they were. You couldn't have been more foolish, the excitement within you replaced with a heavy knot in the pit of your stomach. You wanted to turn around, run away, and drink until you cough your lungs out on some empty street bench. But you couldn't; you weren't here for Michael or yourself; you were here for Lucy's sake.

Taking in a deep breath, you walked over and cleared your throat. Michael had walked up to a group of guys, two of whom you recognized. They turned to you, four eyes curiously staring at one, another pair looking upset, and lastly, Michaels were surprised.

“Y/N?”

"The one and only." You rolled your eyes, trying to retain a sense of normality despite your emotional turmoil. The hippy-look-alike glanced between you two, taking an almost protective step in front of Micheal. "Who are you?"

Before Micheal could answer, you beat him to it. "A friend." You mused, shaking her hand. "I'm Y/N, an old childhood friend from Phoenix." She seemed to relax at the information, nodding with a gentle smile. "I'm Star, Micheal's girlfriend."

Hiding your soft grimace, you nodded with a strained smile.

"What are you doing here, Y/N?"

"Not going to introduce us first, Mikey?" The smooth voice hummed out, but the tone was laced with something else. You couldn't place it, but it almost sounded dissatisfied. You couldn't really answer before Micheal grabbed your arm, a bit too tight for your liking. "Stay out of it, David."

Micheal dragged you away, taking advantage of your stunned state. You suddenly understood what Sam and Lucy had been worrying about. Micheal didn't act like that, at least not for the past few years you've known him. He shoved and pushed his way through the crowd, though that wasn't very hard considering how the people practically split just to avoid you two. He didn't look back at you, nor did his grip loosen until you two were somewhere at the end of the boardwalk; the crowd lessened with every meter.

When you finally came to a stop, you were suddenly pulled into a tight hug. One of his arms snaked around your waist, a grip firm but gentle. His other hand had tangled itself in your hair, practically cradling your head as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck.

If you didn't have whiplash from the sudden rushing, you definitely had some now from the abrupt affection. He seemed to be, inhaling you? "Micheal." You nudged his chest, finally able to separate yourself from a very unwilling brunette.

"What are you doing here, Y/N?" His voice was gentle, careful even. As if you'd run away again, which was odd since you weren't the one who left.

"I came to visit you; I see you've made some new friends.." You wandered over to the railing, hopping on carefully.

"Yeah, a lot's happened." He murmured, rubbing his neck to relieve his phantom discomfort. You nodded, silently asking him to go on. "Your family's worried about you; what's been going on, Mikey?" You nudged further, wanting to get to the core of the problem. You couldn't try and help if you didn't know what the hell was going on, but your prodding seemingly did the opposite as Michael became visibly more uncomfortable. Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, rubbed his neck and brushed his fingers through his hair.

"I know, I know—a lot has been going on. I just can't tell you about it." He settled on that answer, getting closer before resting beside you. He leaned his forearms against the railing, glancing at the ocean.

"Will you be staying here for long?" You could tell he was trying to change the subject but ultimately decided that patience was the key in this situation. But apart, small and subtle, I enjoyed the way his question almost sounded pleading.

"Mhm, took a few weeks off for vacation. Lucy's giving me her spare room; I hope you don't mind." He shook his head, his signature crooked smile tugging at his lips. "Nah, I'm glad. Haven't spent any time with my girl in a while."

"Your girl?"

He stuttered at that, "I mean—you know, guess that kinda just slipped." He seemed embarrassed, but you weren't gonna have it. What about Star?

"Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"Star? No, she isn't my girlfriend. It's complicated, but we haven't ever really gotten official." He explained, rubbing his temples at the thought.

You nodded, "Then don't call me your girl Micheal. We broke up; I'm your friend. Please remember that." You reminded him as gently as you could, noticing the subtle flash of pain across his features before he nodded.

Feeling the sudden heaviness in the air, you frowned, looking around as you thought of a way to change the subject. "So, who exactly are your friends?"

"Allow me to take charge of this one, Micheal." A deep, familiar voice mused. The blonde mullet-wearing dude always seemed like a cat, sneaky and quiet but always in the mood to toy with something, in this case, someone.

"Since our Mikey seemed to hide you from us, which is awfully rude of you. I'll take charge from here." He stepped closer, glancing you over. He had an odd look in his eyes and almost seemed angry with Michael for taking you away. However, before the blonde could talk, a rocker look-like, the man you had sworn you saw in your bar prior bounced up beside you and slung his arm around your shoulder.

You ignored the tingles you felt when your bare skin met his but instead chucked it up to your lack of action recently. "I'm Paul, sweetheart!" He stared at you for a bit too long for comfort before moving on. "That's Marko, David, and the brooding guy over there is little ol' Dwayne."

"Why did Dwayne get an extra introduction, and I'm just Marko?" You couldn't help but chuckle at the banter, feeling like the group was awfully playful. So what was the problem? You could see Micheal having a good time with them, so why the sudden change.

"Well, I'm Y/N. Michael's, old friend." You formally introduced, not expecting much, but Dwayne nodded. All of them seemed to be in their own world, Dwayne appearing the most interested. Had you known how focused they actually were on you, analyzing your heart beat, body language, anything they could grasp onto you would've run.

"What brings you to Santa Carla Y/N." David leaned against the railing, his cold gaze curious. "Seems like a pretty far distance to go for just a friend." He added, and at that moment, you got the sense that you just couldn't lie to David. That cold, icy gaze practically looked through you. As if he's had years of experience understanding human behavior, it unnerved you.

"Well, I'm also here for a vacation." You laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck.

He gave you a look that simply screamed that he didn't believe you before moving on. "Are you gonna be staying here for long, sugar?" Marko took you out of that uncomfortable situation, making you nod with a hum. "Depends on what you consider long, but I'll be here for a few weeks."

"Well, we ought' to show you around here then. Show you all Santa Carla's got to offer!" Marko hollered, which received agreeing gazes from everyone except Micheal, who appeared rather upset. But you were here, and what better way to understand Micheal than by meeting his friends. "The hell with it." You mused, a grin tugging at your lips at the cheers and eager looks around you.

So, you explored Santa Carla just like Marko had said. Practically losing your soul during the fast carnival rides, winning petty prizes, eating greasy food, fucking with surfer nazis, and stealing some things here and there. So now you were here, surrounded by the starry sky and the roaring ocean. A campfire crackling on the sand as you were sitting in between Michael and Dwayne. With a beer bottle in hand, everyone seemed relaxed despite the playful fighting happening between Paul and Marko.

"So, tell me a little about yourself. How'd you come to know our boy Mikey here?" David had been on your ass since you met; he didn't let your lie slide earlier, even if he hadn't acknowledged it. He was so eager to know about the true nature between you and Micheal, and at the question, you couldn't help but notice Star perk up beside Micheal.

"Nothin' much to tell, I'm afraid. I met Michael when he was interning at his father's mechanics shop when I finally got a car from my old man, only to have it break down on me several weeks later. That is where we met." You glanced at Michael, seeing a faint smile tug on his lips as he seemingly played with the sand.

"I was new, and he offered me a tour around town. One thing led to another, and we became friends. Didn't get together until what, junior year? Yeah, around that time." You add, watching as Paul and Marko suddenly stop rough-housing. "Wait, you two were together?" Paul asked, staring between your two. "You said you were just friends," Marko added, an odd glint in his eyes. You shrugged, taking a quick swig of your beer.

"We are just friends, Mikey and I broke up when he left for Santa Carla." You glanced at the brunette, seeing the way his smile had dissolved. There was a glaze to his eyes as if he was somewhere else completely. You understood; perhaps that's why you guys got together in the first place. You simply understood Michael, the way he was currently dancing with you again in his memories. It was apparent to you.

"Ah." The sound of David's stern hum of acknowledgment made you turn your attention back to the group of boys. They all seemed to be in thought, but none looked too pleased with your previous relationship. "Been happily single ever since—well, I haven't really been looking, to be honest." You added, trying to lighten the mood.

"Oh, you hear that, boys?" Paul grinned, getting up and moving behind you. He rested his hands on your shoulder, leaning down to rest his chin on the top of your head. "She's open for the taking!"

"That is not what I meant—"Before you could finish your sentence, Paul and Marko picked you up. They cheered as they ran towards the inky black ocean water, grinning to themselves as Paul held your hands and Marko your feet. They swung you threateningly over the water's edge. Your screams were filled with laughter as they grinned.

"What do you say, Paul? Should our little sunflower get a drop in the ocean for lying to us?" Paul grinned a mischievous cat-like grin. Glancing at Marko, the expression was practically mirrored. "I don't know, Paulie; maybe she should. Wash off all of that Michael stench off of her."

"Don't drop me! Fuck you, seriously. Don't you dare!" You warned, trying to wiggle yourself out of their death grip.

"Nah, threats won't work on us, honey. Maybe a reward will work, hmm. What do you think, Paul?"

"I think a kiss ought' to do it," Paul answered, glancing between you and his devil-like companion. "Couldn't agree more."

"Fine, fine, have your stupid kiss but let me down!"

As if on cue, they synced up. "If you say so!" Marko cheered as, with a powerful swing, they threw you over and into the water. You let out a shrill screech, landing in the water ungraciously. Once you popped back up, you glared at the two.

Wincing as you tried to get up, you promptly plopped back into the water with a splash. They heard you loud and clear, and Michael was already by Marko and Paul's side. David and Dwayne followed, but not as quickly.

"You okay, sugar?" Paul asked, frowning as you shook your head. You held out a hand to him, silently asking for help to get up. When he walked over to you, not minding his now wet boots. He grabbed your hand, not expecting you to harshly tug him down and into the water with you.

You cackled, wanting to commit the blonde's dumbfounded expression to memory. "Damn girl, you made me worried!" He explained, and Marko nearly doubled over laughing. He splashed you, wrapping his arm around your waist under the water. You froze, not expecting the contact. "That was rather evil of you, sunflower," he mused, in a tone far too low and husky than you had expected coming from the rocker-wannabe.

"And throwing me into the water, wasn't?" You mimicked, turning to glance at him. He laughed, pulling you closer. You could feel his breath taunting your skin; his gaze was all too narrow and lustful for your liking. He looked hungry, practically starved, as he grinned at you. "But I am evil, sunflower, and the one thing you can trust in a bad guy is that he'll always do something awful. It's the good ones you gotta be careful about," He hummed, his gaze shifting to your lips. He lifted his hand, cupping your jaw as he traced his thumb against your lip. "The good ones are a wild card, baby; you never know when they're finally gonna give in." He whispered, and at that moment, you knew he wasn't just talking about petty, mean deeds.

He was referring to you if the position you weren't in wasn't clear enough. However, before you could respond, Michael broke you two up. Unable to form a proper response, you followed your old friend, watching as he returned you to the rest of the group.

"What were they thinking? You'll catch your death being wet this late at night!" Micheal murmured as he complained, making you roll your eyes. "I'm fine; we were just having some fun." You defended, watching as Marko slung his arm around your shoulder. "Yeah, chill out, Mikey."

Dwanye seemed to agree with Micheal instead as he grabbed your hand and gently led you back to the campfire to warm up again. He didn't mind the sudden chill now; your body was still fired up from your earlier encounter with Paul. You felt a heavy cloth drape over your shoulders, glancing to see David's coat loosely set over you. He sat down beside you, handing you your previously abandoned beer bottle.

"Thanks," you smiled.

"It's already so late, yet you don't seem even the slightest bit tired. Do you usually stay up this late?" He asked though he didn't look at you at first. One of his hands loosely held a cigarette, letting a puff of smoke escape through his lips. His eyes focused on the blazing fire in front of you before gradually looking into your eyes. Once again, you could feel your ability to lie fade, not with such a dominating gaze practically reading you.

"I work at a bar most days of the week; you get used to late nights." You explained, being honest for once. He nodded, seemingly appreciating your bluntness.

"Doesn't sound like that's the safest job." Dwayne chimed in, an odd look of concern across his features. You weren't sure what to make of that look; you weren't close enough to garner that concern. But couldn't deny the fluttering in your stomach, fuck, how starved were you for affection?

"Neither is staying in Santa Carla, but here we are." You murmured, a little embarrassed at yourself for being so desperate. You couldn't really describe it, but being around them felt right. Having their attention felt right, and a part of you wanted to keep it. David chuckled at your answer, subtly resting his hand on your thigh.

"Yet here we are." He repeated, his deep voice sending shivers down your back.

"Fuck." You heard someone hiss loudly, everyone's gaze turning to Micheal, who was staring at his watch. "David, it's nearly sunrise." He cursed sternly, sending panicked looks across everyone except the leader. You were surprised yourself, having completely lost track of time. But you were a little confused as all the guys got up and guided you back to the pier.

"You guys got a curfew or something?" You asked, biting the inside of your cheek. Dwanye chuckled as he and the others walked over to their bikes. "Miss us already, sugar?" Paul hummed, getting on his bike. Micheal shook his head, taking your hand gently in his. He caressed the chilled hand with his thumb, and you couldn't help but notice that Micheals's hand was just as cold as yours. "We just have something we need to do; see you tomorrow?"

"You're not going home?" You asked, slightly surprised at the sudden change in atmosphere. "No, like I said, we have something planned." He seemed more nervous, rubbing his neck. A nervous tick he developed when Michael was lying. But you didn't feel like pushing, so you let go of his hand with a sigh.

He walked to his bike, the five starting their engines with a powerful roar. Paul and Marko wave as they drive off, Dwayne following. Michael stared longingly at you, starting his back before driving off too. David moved but promptly stopped before you. One of his feet resting on the floor. He caressed your cheek with his gloved hand, watching you carefully. You felt pulled as if the boy's leaving was pulling your heart along with them. "You think to much." David hummed teasingly, staring into your eyes. "Come back to the boardwalk tomorrow; I'll come and find you," he instructed, not leaving any room for debate.

"How'll you manage that?" You taunted, your breath hitching as he promptly leaned closer.

But instead of a snarky remark, his hand that rested on your cheek slid back. Tangling his fingers in your hair, keeping a firm grip on the back of your neck as he pulled you in for a searing kiss. Sparks flew, and you were sure you could have burnt yourself at the searing heat of the kiss. David wasn't gentle, and there was a dominating eagerness to his lips that commanded your utter acceptance. His teeth playfully nipped your bottom lip, pulling it slowly as he parted. You pulled away with lidded eyes, observing the same intoxicated look flash across David's features.

"See you tomorrow, baby." He chuckled, roaring his engine before leaving you. It took you several minutes to recuperate, walking back into the main center of the boardwalk.

Walking past a closing video store, you weren't really paying attention to your surroundings. The sound of a man's voice pulling you out of your daze, looking around your eyes connected with those of a middle-aged man. You recognized him as the video store owner, who must've said something to you.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" You asked, now focused on the man.

"I said you should stay away from those bikers; they're nothing but trouble." His words seemed stern, yet they had the unnerving power to upset you.

"Yeah, you know them or something?" You asked in an accusatory tone, hearing the man shake his head with a small sigh.

"You've got the same attitude as them; if it were up to me, I wouldn't let you in. But Lucy always wanted a daughter." The man's tone turned sadistic as he got closer, pushing you into a nearby alleyway. Panic shot through you, every fiber of your being screaming at you to run. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. But before your fight or flight response could kick in, you were knocked against the wall with such force the wind was knocked out of you. Leaving you disoriented and wheezing for air.

You felt his fangs graze your skin, a small sob escaping you. A fear of dying, hate for pain, and lingering betrayal being too much for your eyes to hold. What did Lucy have to do with this? You didn't deserve to die, not like this!

You were scared. One of your hands placed itself on his chest, clenching the fabric of his jacket between your fingers as you desperately tried pushing him away. Thrashing as much as you could. When the pain finally arrived, you winced harshly and gasped. The hold on the man's jacket grew tighter as his jaw clenched. It fucking hurt. Hurt like hell. But he refused to move, not wanting to make the feeling worse. The longer you stood there, the more accustomed you felt to the dull aching. It was an awful feeling, leaving you feeling dirty all over, but whatever was happening, it sparked hopes that you might get out of this alive.

You could feel particular sharp sparks of pain whenever you moved, shifting the puncture wounds. Your mind grew cloudy the longer he drank.

"Stop.." You whispered, the words sounding frail and weak. The man needed to stop. Your body was slowly growing light, the feeling of dizziness and sleepiness festering inside you. The hand holding onto him loosened its grip before slowly falling against your side. Your tears had stopped a few minutes ago, your cheeks glistening from the wetness. Your eyes grew dull in color, silently fighting yourself to stay awake. You could practically hear your heart hammering against your chest, each beat loud and overwhelming as it rang through your ears.

It felt like you were dying, and a part of you was convinced you actually were.

Your body was in a state of searing, burning pain. Your heartbeat rang like cathedral drums, harsh and loud before the sound turned quiet. One beat, a pause, then silence. Your body limp and cold, your lifeless body let the blood of its murderer wash down your tongue. Suddenly everything began to burn inside you; your mouth ached horribly, and your fingertips too. Your body felt freezing cold until some drop of relief washed over you, and through your mouth came a small stream of euphoria. Practically lighting your every fiber on fire. Your eyes opened, no longer their usual color but a vivid yellow. Your hand instinctively grabbed the man's wrist, your mind going blank as you sink your teeth into the crimson liquid.

A sigh of relief escaped you as you closed your eyes, swallowing greedily as you calmed the burning inside yourself. You didn't let the man budge, your new, sharpened nails practically digging into his forearm. You felt insatiable; no matter how hurriedly you lapped and sucked on the wound, you wanted more, more blood.

You didn't relent; you practically couldn't. But the urge to look up at your murderer was undeniable. You pulled away, a small trail of the man's blood trailing down the corner of your lips as you looked up at him. Large, doe-eyed hungry eyes stared up at him, the look of a pure predator.

You had died in that alleyway, after all; a part of you just knew that. With speed unrecognizable, you ran away, not sure where, but far, far, away from the boardwalk.

The next night, David and the others did not find you at the boardwalk. But none of them were just going to let you go like that, no, not when mates were so hard to find. It was hard enough for them to have let you go last night, and if it wasn't for the threat of the approaching sun, they wouldn't have. Their boardwalk princess was missing, and there would be hell to pay if they didn't find you soon.

[octuscle]

Life-changing cruise experience

Daniel had been warned time and time again: Leaving the ship without a cruise line-licensed guide is dangerous to your wallet and health. Daniel thought that was silly. After all, Salvador de Bahia was not a slum in a civil war-torn country. Yes, Brazil was not without danger. But nothing had happened in Maceio and Recife either. Nevertheless, to be on the safe side, Daniel only packed a little cash, left his wristwatch on board and took an old cell phone with him, which was certainly unattractive to pickpockets. At the pier, he took a cab and was driven directly to the old town.

Salvador de Bahia was incredibly beautiful. Yes, it was full of tourists. But luckily Daniel arrived in the old town before the buses. And in his simple clothes, he didn't look much like a cruise tourist, who were always easy victims. He enjoyed strolling through the alleyways and lost himself deeper and deeper in the labyrinth. The colorful baroque buildings became fewer and fewer, you could hardly hear any English and only what Daniel thought was Portuguese. The attacks from street vendors became more frequent and Daniel began to feel increasingly uncomfortable. And when he saw a knife flash at one of the nasty-looking guys, Daniel intuitively jumped into the nearest doorway. He had ended up in a capoeira school. He looked anxiously at the street where the mugger was looking around. Fearfully, he looked into the school, where a couple of guys were standing, not looking very trusting either. Suddenly one of the capoeiristas started grinning at him, shouted something to him in Portuguese and handed him one of the typical combat pants. Of course, Daniel felt silly putting these on. But returning to the street seemed much less attractive to him. So he put the pants on and joined the other students.

The movements seemed infinitely complicated to him at first. He didn't understand what it was all about. Until he realized that the teacher had obviously switched to English. At least Daniel understood the instructions, but he was still incredibly clumsy. The training was exhausting. Daniel lost track of time. He got better and better. The movements became second nature to him. The drum beats were incredibly familiar to him. He knew the strengths and weaknesses of his opponents. How long had they been training together? For as long as Daniel could remember. Even as a child, he had watched with fascination how elegantly the boys danced and moved their well-trained bodies. He had always wanted to be able to do the same. And with a certain amount of modesty, Danilo could say that he had become one of the best at his school.

Hehehe, he had never been able to say that about his real school. Sitting still and learning had never been for him. Fortunately, in addition to his talent for capoeira, he had dazzling looks and a stunning charm. Even if he could only talk to the tourists in broken English, that was enough to collect plenty of tips at his shows at Santa Maria Fort.

Danilo's specialty, however, was his private shows, which he performed either in the back room of the bar where he danced or in the hotel rooms of the gringos. And it didn't matter whether he was fucking the white ass of an American tourist or getting a blowjob from a German pensioner. His services were in demand. And expensive. Danilo loved his life!

Pic found @xq28-xq28-xq28, inspiration by @curioustoseewhatsup

[tojisbestslut]

[ Curiosity killed the cat p2]

summery: having to explore an abandoned mansion because of a dare with your friend, what could go wrong?

characters: Toji Fushiguro, Geto Suguru, Gojo Saturo

warnings: DARK, NON-CON, sadism, whipping, blood, kicking, forced orgasm, screaming, crying

word count: 800

part 1

head on the cold cement floor of the basement as your ass was up in the air, your back arched the way you never thought you'd be capable of. saliva drooling from the sides of your mouth because of how big the ball gag in your mouth was, not even letting you to rest your tongue comfortably. your hands tied behind your back with a black rope up to the elbow, taking away most of your ability to move. your clothes completely gone and torn in a random corner, still bloddy from your palm. which was now messily bandaged and looked a little less gross.

the strike from the belt pushed you out of your thoughts and made you scream in lower case against the gag. you wanted to cry so fucking hard, to let it all out. the white haired man, which u found out earlier was called gojo, looked like he was having the best time of his life hitting your naked ass with all his power. you whined as he hit you again, your shoulders shaking from your muffled crying through the gag. Fushiguro is sitting in the corner counting some cash while holding the tip of his cigarettes between his teeth, in the corner of his mouth. the long haired man was nowhere to be seen, but you could hear some metal clicking against each other's sound from somewhere, supposing it's him.

"ughh-"

you tried to whine but no sound was heard, only moaning. he wasn't giving your ass a second to rest, beating and beating one after another as he was literally sweating from how hard he was moving his hand. your thighs were shaking underneath him and you were about to collapse any second. gojo hit you once more and threw the belt aside, finally giving your ass cheeks some rest. you closed your eyes and took deep breath, trying to calm your heart beat. he stood up behind you watching as you were catching your breath, literal blood dripping from the belt bruises getting slightly open on your ass. what a sight, he thought. just as you were feeling a little better, there's a coldness between your legs.

as your head was on the ground and you were held by your knees, your legs were slightly open to give you more balance, putting your whole lower body to display. he suddenly puts the tip of his boots between your folds, on your clit. you gasp and try to wiggle to front with the help of your shoulders, only for Fushiguro to kick you back as he was passing by, wearing leathern men shoes.

"tryna get away, little thief? too late now" gojo mocked as his boots found their way on your clit again. you wanted to explain so badly, to say you never wanted to interrupt and enter that place ever, to say you hadn't dared to violate their property, but you couldn't. he started moving his legs in a circle motion on your clit, changing the direction after a few seconds repeatedly. he knew exactly what he was doing. you frowned and tried to hold down the moan, not wanting to lose to him. but who were lying to think you had control there.

you arched your back more from the sudden stimulation between your legs, as he starts moving faster. such a funny sight to look at, your bloody and bruised body naked and tied up on the floor, while he was rubbing your insides aggressively with the tip of his shoes, being completely dressed. his hands was in his pocket and he took a look at his watch, 30 minutes has passed. only 30 minutes of being trapped by them and it already felt like an eternity. you eventually lost control and moaned loudly as he continued overstimulating you. your thighs began to shake from all the emotions you've been feeling. joy, embarrassment, fear. you whined loudly and arched your back all the way you were physically able to, squirting messily on the floor.

he finally let go of you and stepped back, looking at your shaking form with the big wet spot beneath you on the basement floor. you finally lost balance and your knees fell, making you lay completely. your ears were still ringing from the intense orgasm you had gone through, not even being able to think how you feel about it yet. the long haired men suddenly appears and stands in front of you, holding a clear box.

you couldn't clearly see what was inside from the tears. after blinking and making your vision clearer, your eyes widened. he was standing above you with a big box full of needles, having the biggest smile on his face.

"shall I take my turn now?"

a/n: I'm out of ideas for the next part, drop your fantasies.

TAGS:

[byuntrash101]

bonnie & clyde

switch!reader x dom!hongjoong ft. ateez

smut | nsfw | mdni

gangster!hongjoong, switch!reader, reader is kinda bratty, cameo!ateez, 1 gun fight scene w/ 1 death of a nameless character (in a non seggsy setting), striptease, pet names, blood kink, some knife play (hongjoong cuts your underwear), fucking in a pile of cash, spit play, name calling (whore), hair pulling, tits slapping, possessive joong, honestly you both are just two psychos fucking

requested | part of my 2023 prompts event [closed]

there's something so primal and enticing about your leader taking a life to protect the crew at all costs

[❛ shut up and kiss me already. ❜ + ❛ and where do you think you’re going? ❜]

TUMBLR IS BASED ON REBLOGS. PLEASE REBLOG MY WORK 🖤

They called you the pirates of the concrete seas. Bank’s safes were your treasure chests and the streets were your ocean. You were pillaging and robbing bank after bank. Outlaws always on the run, looking for the next big shiny thing. You always found the name kind of cheesy but in the end it suited your group pretty well. Not worrying about tomorrow, living off the money you stole and drinking until sunrise.

Hongjoong, your captain, reigned over the concrete seas like an almighty and ruthless king. He only had two things in mind. Keeping the crew together and get the gold.

That’s exactly what you were about to do.

When Yunho parked the van outside the bank. Hongjoong revised one last time the plan of action before everybody slipped on their mask. You felt the adrenaline course through your veins, keeping your head into unwavering focus.

You all worked like well oiled machinery. Everyone knew exactly what they were doing. Seonghwa and Yeosang were breaking into the safe. Jongho and San gathered the hostages. Wooyoung and Mingi stuffed the bags full of cash while you were in charge of communication. Making sure everyone played their role and the plan went accordingly.

Hongjoong had the most important role. He had to make sure everyone stayed calm. 

And when it went south Hongjoong was the one that had to make sure every single member of the crew came out unharmed. 

So when Wooyoung got caught one the guard as you were rushing out with the booty, Hongjoong had to step in. The guard held your younger crewmate one arm hooked around his neck, the other holding a gun to his temple. 

San threw a deadly eye to Jongho who let the guard slip out of his grasp. Wooyoung let a guttural cry as the guard pressed harder on his neck.

“Freeze” the middle aged man shouted. Aim alternating between Wooyoung’s head and Hongjoong standing right in front of him. The middle aged man was panting, large beads of sweat wetting his thick salt and pepper mustache.

“Let’s not do anything we could regret here” Hongjong said calmly, motioning for the rest of you to lower your weapons. 

“You’re all gonna stay put until the cops arrive” the man panted, his eyes darting between all of you. His finger on the trigger became dangerously tense.

“Let him go” Hongjoong ordered in a stern yet tranquil voice.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP OR I’LL BLOW HIS BRAINS OUT” the guard shouted, pressing the canon of the gun into Wooyoung’s forehead, his hands desperatly clawing at the man’s forearm around his neck.

The sudden yelling made one of the bank employees cry and the guard turned his head to the noise. Breaking eye contact with Hongjoong was a fatal error.

The captain didn’t hesitate one second. He lightly tipped his face to the side and Wooyoung knew what to do. He imitated him and in a split second, the booming sound of Hongjoong’s weapon clattered in the large hall and the guard's face was ornamented with a gaping hole, blood splattering all over Wooyoung’s masks and clothes. The lifeless body thumped on the ground, waiting to get cold as you all rushed to the van.

You felt the adrenaline when Yunho was punching the gas and the van slalomed between the police cars and eventually lost them. That feeling of euphoria when you all took off the masks to laugh and shovel the cash out. This time there was enough that you could all bathe in it. 

You were all playing in it. Mingi was shuffling the bills in his face while Yeosang and San danced in it. Crystal clear laughs resonating in the huge room.

Even Wooyoung seemed to have forgotten about the dried up blood on his clothes.

Then Jongho called from the big entry.

“Guys, let's go order some drinks” he yelled. All of the crew followed lead by Yeosang with you on their heels.

“And where do you think you’re going?” The captain asked as he put down his gun on the table.

“I was gonna go get a drink” you spoke. 

“No i don’t think you are”

The captain’s face was unsoundable. Emotions perfectly gate kept behind his glacial features staring at you blankly.

Hongjoong motioned at Seonghwa, still waiting for you at the entrance to leave. So he gave you one last smile and closed the heavy door behind him.

Soon the laughs faded and you two were left in complete silence.

“Come here” Hongjoong motioned you to come closer, curling his index finger.

Hongjoong liked the adrenaline. It gave him a high that was incomparable to any other. Except one, the kind of high he could only experiment with you. 

You approached him slowly, taking your time to prance to him like a panther about to pounce. 

Hongjoong’s impenetrable face let through a small smirk pulling lightly at his lips.

“You asked for me, Captain?” you asked, voice already soaking with seductiveness.

“ Yes I want you to do me a favor” You lift a quizzical eyebrow. “Go over there” he pointed at the pile of wrinkled bills in the middle of the big hangar.

“Dance for me”

Hongjoong said before turning on slow sensual music from the speaker settled on the small table.

That was unexpected but you gladly obliged.

You reached the pile of money and started to seductively dance, swaying your hips to the rhythm. Your hands gliding from your thigh, slowly up your stomach and past the side of your breasts to rub your neck. 

“Yes that’s it baby”. Hongjoong slowly walked up to you. Admiring you dance for him. The dance went he felt himself grow thicker for you.

“Strip” he ordered. Voice firm. Already a little lower than his usual tone. It reminded you of the voice he took before shooting that man right in the face and you felt your stomach stir in excitement.

You reached out for the hem of your tank top but Hongjoong clicked his tongue.

“Slowly baby. Nice and slow”

So you opted for the strap of your top instead. Slowly pulling at it.

“Yesss” Hongjoong pulled on the word, dragging it off his tongue.  “Just like that” 

He started to palm himself through his denim jeans. Rubbing circles on his member becoming more and more constricted in his clothes.

One by one you stripped out every article of clothing until you were only left in your underwear.

By the time you were done Hongjong’s cock looked like it was about to rip out his pants. 

“Did I tell you to stop ?” 

You could have gone back to slowly unclasping your bra but you didn’t. You didn’t feel like being good today. You wanted to infuriate him.

When Hongjoong saw you weren’t moving an inch he started to smirk. Even if it was fun to play with a good girl there was something so empowering in breaking you into his will. Resorting to any means to make you snap, to make you beg for him.

Taking his fate into his own hands was Hongjoong’s specialty after all.

He walked to you as you provocatively held his glacial gaze fixated on you. 

His fingers grazed over your forearm going up your limb and reached your neck. His touch was gentle, lifting goosebumps on your naked skin. He gently wrapped his hand on your nape, pulling your face closer to his, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Did I tell you to stop, kitten?” he whispered, lips pulling into a wicked smirk, his grip onto your nape growing stronger.

The hot air in your ear sent a shiver down your spine. You felt his cool tongue slide over your ear, producing the lewd wet noises you loved so much. Already you felt your arousal pooling in your underwear.

“Shut up and kiss me already” you whispered, your fingers digging into his side. You didn’t really deserve it but you also knew Hongjoong couldn't resist you.

Immediately Hongjoong stepped back to have a good look at your face. You looked exactly like him, insatiable. That was why you two were such a good match. 

The Joker and Harley Quinn.

Bonnie and Clyde.

Hongjoong crashed his lips onto yours. Your two bodies immediately going up in flames, burning passion coursing between you. You dug your nails further on his back, he smiled at the familiar sting while his hand left your nap to untangle around your hair. He gave a sharp pull earning a moan from your playful lips. You immediately retorted by catching Hongjongs’s bottom lips between your teeth. Hongoong groaned and smirked as you bit harder. Until you tasted his blood on the tip of your tongue. He immediately tightened his grip around your hair, pleasure burning on your scalp while his other hands pushed your hips onto his. 

“Hmmm” Hongjoong moaned against your lips. Hand gliding from the small of your back to your thigh to your clothed center. Slender fingers applying just the right amount of pressure to your sensitive area. “My angel is not in the mood to be a good girl, is she?” he said, as he licked his own blood off your stained lips.

“No” you said with assurance. Pushing him as he stumbled back into the huge pile of wrinkled bills. You continued your infernal carousel by straddling him. You started to unbutton his white shirt that joined his fur coat laying at his sides. You licked your way down leaving a trail of burgundy kisses on his chest. 

You started to palm him through his pants. You would have wanted to make him wait a little linger but you just couldn’t inflicted that to yourself. You wanted to see it. Without waiting anymore you unzipped his pants to get the aching member out. It joyfully sprung free before your avid eyes.

“So eager for me, angel?” Hongjoong mocked. You hated that he was right.

You grabbed the base with one hand while the other one teased the leaking slit at the head. One finger sliding up and down the head making Hongjoong hiss at every slow touch. 

You briefly let go of the hand holding the base to spit in your palm and started jerking him off. Hongjoong growled as he felt the warm saliva mixing with his precum. 

You snickered malovently when he started to pulse in your hand. Taking a malicious delight to slow down everytime he became more vocal. Driving him to the edge of sanity. Exactly where he feels comfortable, he’s been flirting with this edge since birth. Just as you have too. Two psychotic minds finding each other in folly.

Soon he can’t hold back anymore. His hand fly to yours catching them in a strong grip. You lift your eyes to meet his. He’s absolutely feral. Looking back at you like a rabid wolf. You’ve done it, you woke the beast. A side of him that was only for you. Only you who could bear to look in the face of his darkest side. The side that relished to hold the right of life or death at the end of his gun. That enjoyed spilling blood.

He grabbed the small knife strapped to your thigh with one movement he slipped the blade under between your breast cutting in a clean half your bra as it fell along your arms. He grabbed a handful of your breast while he slowly dragged the blade across your stomach. The cold metal lifted goosebumps on your skin until he reached your underwear.

You held your breath as he cut it, the blade running on your skin, lightly scratching you delicious, leaving a red trail behind it. He threw across the hangar the shreds of lace along with the blade. The metallic tinkling bouncing on the high ceiling.

With his newly free hand he grabbed you by the throat, a strangled moan leaving your mouth as anticipation pulled your lips into a smirk.

“I’m done playing” he growled, the threatening hold growing tighter. “Ride me now” he commanded as he pulled you up by the neck.

Your breath still restricted you manage to guide his length to your drenched center. His grip only loosened when you sunk your hips. Hongjoong's cock gliding so smoothly inside you. taking its rightful place deep inside your little cunt.

“That’s it baby” he praised, letting go of your throat to grip your thighs. “Make me feel good with that pretty pussy of yours”

You instantly bounced your hips up and down along his shaft. You both moaned and groaned without restraint. The sinful symphony resounding in the hangar.

“Faster baby” he ordered as he pinched one of your nipples. The burn encouraged you and you settled at a brutal pace. The familiar build up in your stomach rapidly progressing. You felt Hongjoong's thighs tighten under your own and you knew he was close too.

“Hongjoong… I’m-” you moaned. But as your mind went blank almost giving up to the pleasure you were interrupted. By a harsh slap on one of your breasts.

“No you’re not” Hongjoong slapped your tits again.

The sharp pain taking you by surprise and brings you back to him. Before you could protest Hongjoong flipped you on your back and he was above you.

“You’re here to make me feel good” he clarified as he entered you once again. You did not really have time to let the pressure go down. Pleasure picked up right where it left off. Your eyes rolled back into your head when he so deliciously filled you up again.

“Fuckkk” you cursed. 

“Look at me” he said, he pulled on your hair again. Making your eyes snap back to him. “You cum when I tell you too”

You were way too close to your release to talk back with words but there was still one thing you could do. 

Without even thinking in a sort of reflex you spat right into his face. Hongjoong’s shock pulled your lips into a satisfied smirk, an amused laugh almost escaping your lips but you don’t have time to.

“You fucking whore” he hissed though gritted teeth. 

Immediately he starts to fuck you as brutally as he can. His hips smashing into yours. fucking you so deep and could feel him hamerring the imprint of his cock into your brain forever.

“You’re mine” he growled while he wrapped his hand around your neck once again this time completely preventing you from breathing. Taking this vital resource away from you. Soon you feel lightheaded, you feel like your body is defying gravity, losing its anchoring in the solid earth. The unspeakable pleasure dulling your other senses. In this moment there's only him and you. You and your captain's mindless bodies floating in this sea of cash.

“Cum now. Whore” His voice commanded and you released all over him soaking him and the bills under you while he delivered thick ropes of cum deep inside you, lazily spilling out of your clenching walls when he pulled out.

After a while of catching his breath he looked back at you.

“Let’s meet with the others I really need this drink”

a/n: i struggled so much with this one. i hope it isnt too obvious but yeah for getting out of my comfort zone. please tell me if you enjoyed it it would make me sooo happy to know it didnt completely suck balls lolz anyways thank you for reading <3

[lynxiesblog]

It’s been almost a year since my last upload, so here’s a list of things I manifested since then 💖

Hii my luvs <3 here’s a list of things I manifested in the past 11 months ! Hopefully this helps you stay motivated about your desires because everything will work out .

This is also inspired by @youalreadyhavefullresults

・an iPhone 13

・money being given to me just because — literally got 160$ last week in CASH 🥰

・straight A’s in all my classes

・people complimenting me a LOT more — like every time I go out someone is either complimenting : my scent (my perfume), my makeup, my face, body (in a good way and non-creepy way), etc.

・braces — I had my braces at the time when I posted my 3dolc X Roe challenge but I’m still going to say I manifested them 🙄

・more friends — so many people that were in my grade and class last year that I didn’t talk to became my friends. My overall friend circle grew bigger

・more guy friends — most of my friends were girls which I love but I wanted to have some guy friends too and I got some 🤭 many of them added me to their close friends on Instagram and we hung out a lot during school (low key miss them)

・multiple people having a crush on me — I don’t know how to word this without it sounding weird but yeah😭. I had 4 dudes tell me they had a crush on me and they were low key attractive but my parents are kinda strict so no boyfriend for me (yet)

・my teachers liking me / being one of their favourite student — one of my teacher boosted my grade on my final report card, I didn’t even do any work that could give me extra credit.

(Pro tip : always be nice to your teachers like it’s so beneficial on the long run. Even when they’re low key assholes don’t hold a grudge)

・my anxiety whenever I have to present a presentation or speak out loud — I used to be so scared whenever I had to make a speech or just talk in front of people at school but I my fear went down. I’m still kinda nervous but so many subliminals helped me get over it.

・HUGE GLOW UP - OH MY GAWD, you guys I became so much prettier since I was last year no joke. I’ve had so many people stare at me in awe and compliment me. Like two weeks ago I was going grocery shopping alone since I have a store really close to me and I had to take the bus (I don’t have my drivers license yet 😔) and this lady that I sat next to full on turned and kept staring at me. When I looked at her she just smiled like kanaosj’akah!/&/$/78[•\*£\’s pls 💞

・acrylics — my mom wouldn’t let me get acrylic nails unless it was for a special event but she’s been letting me get one every month and I’m so so grateful

・a better relationship between my mom and dad — they have gotten so much nicer to one an other like my dad started buying gifts for my mom. It doesn’t happen very often but it’s a start

・my mom’s health

・a fun summer — compared to last year this summer has been way more exciting, even though I took summer classes for the month of June I still had so much fun and I still have a whole month to go

・finding lost items — you have no idea how many times I lost my AirPods because I sleep with them on overnight and whenever I wake up they are no where to be found 😭😭.

・getting a second ear piercing on each ear — my mom told me I could only get a 2nd piercing when I’d be 18 but I didn’t feel like waiting that long so I manifested she let me get them and she did 🙈. I got them last year during the time I posted my last post

・getting a KITTENN and a CATT — I’ve been wanting one so so badly and I’m finally getting one

・getting more clothes — I already have so many clothes and my mom said she would stop buying me some for a while , but she still bought me some and they are on the way 💞

・my parents finally getting their dream house 😩

・cute moments between me & my crush 🤭🤭

・greener eyes — my eyes have been getting lighter and look more green

・prettier 😽 (iykyk 😭😭)

・toxic people out of my life — specifically my old “friends”