#the only order this is written in is the order i thought of fast names

[armxnh]

i know we just met, but i love you

synopsis: love at first sight with the tokyo revengers men.

characters: manjiro 'mikey' sano, takashi mitsuya, chifuyu matsuno

genre: fluff

warnings: none (i think...?)

masterlist.

manjiro 'mikey' sano

"ken-chinnnn" the leader of the toman whined at his taller friend. draken rolled his eyes in response, "no mikey, drop it."

"come onnnn-" the said man pouted exaggeratedly, "what did i do wrong?"

"nothing." the delinquent replied taking his wallet out of the pocket of his jacket, "you just don't need to eat twenty-five taiyaki."

"sorry to bother you but there are a lot of people who are waiting take their orders so if you could-" daiki, as it was written on his name tag, tried to cut them off from behind the counter.

for the past ten minutes, the two delinquents were arguing about their order. draken wanted to buy mikey five taiyaki, while mikey wanted his friend to buy him twenty-five of them.

draken turned his head to the cashier, "yeah, so five taiyaki and-"

"twenty-five taiyaki." "damn you-"

"hurry up! unlike other people, some of us have important things to do!" a customer yelled from the back of the line.

manjiro snapped his head to the back of the line, narrowing his eyes at the older man who had just yelled at him. "see now you're making people angry, mikey. 'm not gonna spend ¥5,272 on snacks."

"i need to eat a lot if i want to be taller!"

"for the last time. you won't get taller! you are at your maximum height!"

"alright! i'm not going through this again." a soft voice cut both of them before they could start the same argument they had 2 minutes ago. "daiki, i'll pay for their order- just make his goddamn snacks, please."

when manjiro turned to look at the person who 'saved his life', he felt like he has just died and miraculously came back to life as he made eye contact with you.

you were... pretty.

his eyes were set on you, taking in every single detail he could as if he was scared to forget how you look the second he'll look away.

"thank you, but that's not necessary!" draken politely thanked you as you grabbed your fidelity card of the small shop.

"don't worry about it! after all, those fidelity points have to be used for something." you waved him off, looking back at daiki, "could you also add my regular oder with that, please daiki?"

"o-of course, (y/n)!" the young worker quickly tapped your oder in the computer, a red hue covering his cheeks when you smiled at him.

"mikey, what do you say?" draken looked at his friend, hinting him to thank you, but his words fell into deaf ears as mikey kept looking at you like you hung the moon and stars in the sky.

"mikey?" He nudged the said man's shoulder trying to snap him out of his thoughts, only to be ignored once more.

the tall blond dropped the smile as he turned to his friend hitting the side of his head, finally snapping him out of his thoughts, "mikey!"

"um? what?" mikey barely glanced at draken when he responded, his heartbeat increasing when you looked back at him with your receipt in hand.

"i said, what do you say to the girl who just bought you your snacks?" he replied, glancing between the two of you clearly wondering why his friend was acting weird all of the sudden.

"marry me."

ken ryuguji never whipped his head to look at his friend so fast in his life. What the hell did he just said?!

you felt your face warm up at his words, chuckling as you walk past him, placing your hand on his shoulder, "do you ask every girl who buys you snacks to marry you?"

manjiro felt like he was in heaven when you stood closer to him. how can someone be so pretty and be so nice and smell so good and be so pretty at the same time.

"what?" toman's leader came back down to earth when you handed him the box filled of taiyaki. "did i say that out loud?" manjiro mumbled, frowning to himself. before looking back at you, just to see you making your way outside. "hey- wait!"

he tossed the snacks at draken jogging to meet you outside of the shop. "w-wait!"

you turned to look at him, the soft summer breeze sweating through your hair, leaving your face completely out in the open, "yes?"

"you're (y/n), right?" he asked remembering how the cashier called you when you were ordering, "i'm mikey..." he wanted to say something else but the words got caught in his throat when you smiled at him.

"nice to meet you, mikey" you replied before your eyes drifted behind him to the small group of guys that were looking at the two of you intensely, the 'ken-chin' guy from earlier standing with them. "i think your friends are waiting for you"

manjiro glanced back to see his best friends looking at them with knowing looks on their faces, "never mind them- this is- you are more important."

you looked away from him, his intense eye contact making your face feel warm, "you really know how to talk to girls you know?"

"thank you for earlier... the snacks and all..."

"that was 2 months worth of fidelity points- you better eat every single one of those taiyaki" you playfully warned the gang leader.

"don't worry about that..!" mikey replied knowing damn well that he will inhale those snacks. "can i walk you home? it's going to get dark soon- wouldn't want my wife to get attacked or something!"

wife?!

you suppress a smile at his words, "of course, wouldn't want it to get dark at 2 pm, and then get attacked by who knows what next to a bakery."

"exactly! let's go, wifey!"

takashi mitsuya

"what did you say you're brother's name was?" you asked the crying girl in front of you.

"...t- taka-shi" the small girl sobbed in your shoulder as you gently patted her head.

"alright and what's your name?" you gently asked as you scanned the area trying to find someone who looked like they had just lost their child.

"i- i- i'm mana"

"you have a really pretty name, you know?" you smiled fondly at the girl as you whipped the tears of her face with your thumbs.

"really?"

"heck yeah! it's a badass name!" you felt relief wash over you when you saw a smile spread across the kid's face, "i'm (y/n) and i'm gonna help you find your brother alright?"

"thank you..." she mumbled quietly.

"you're going to hop on my shoulders and tell me when you see your brother okay?" the girl looked up at you with stars in her eyes, you pulled mana on your shoulder, her small hands on your head.

you walked for a good 15 minutes before mana tapped your head with on hand while the other pointed toward an unknown man in the crowd of person, "they're there! that's draken!"

draken? wasn't her brother's name takashi? you wondered as you put mana to the ground your hand grabbing hers just in case she got lost again.

"mana!" a little girl's voice called out as you arrived next to the very tall guy with a dragon tattoo on his head. the small girl that looked very similar to mana hugged tightly the younger girl.

"mitsuya! ' found her" the tall guy called out for someone else behind him. the 'mitsuya' guy appeared from behind the 'draken' guy not long after he called out from him. the purple haired teen practically attacked his sister with a hug, sighing in relief.

"don't ever do that again, mana." he gently scaled his younger sister, "you could've gotten lost and we would've been really sad, al-?"

"it's fine! (y/n) helped me find you!" she pointed her finger at her. mitsuya ruffled his sister's hair, before straightening up to thank the person that help his mini-him, "thank you so mu..."

he felt like the world had stopped moving. like it was only the two of them in the middle of the festival. takashi mitsuya was in a trance. he was simply mesmerized by the sight of you.

"it's no problem, really! " you softly smiled at him, "your sister is a real angel-"

anything else you said after wasn't even registered but the delinquent in front of you. he was usually so good at this- talking to people was what he did best so... why couldn't he utter a single word for you.

his cheeks were red, his palm were sweaty, why was he anxious?- he was hanging on everything you did. even if he felt like he had forgotten how to speak, your voice felt like melody to his ears.

he snapped out of his trance when someone nudge his shoulder. mitsuya glanced at draken beside him, suddenly remembering that they weren't alone and that you were talking to him.

you looked at him with a puzzled look, "are you alright?

your question made him overthink about everything that happened in the last 2 minutes of your meeting. Did he look like a creep?

"i- i- great."

the hell was that takashi? he cursed himself.

darken cleared his throat, holding back his laugh. he brought his fist to his mouth faking coughs as he muttered a small, "real smooth, mitsuya".

you chuckled at his friend's comment, making mitsuya straighten up, you pulled out your hand for him to shake.

"let's start over, alright? i'm (y/n)... you're takashi right?"

draken stepped up clearly expecting his friend to be to lost in space to answer you, "he prefers mitsuya-"

"takashi's fine!" the said man interjected, as he quickly grabbed your hand to shake it, sending one of his pretty smile in your direction.

"i-"

"are you going to marry my brother?" he couldn't catch a break could he? luna asked you with big eyes.

you chuckled softly at her words, "how about this... i will give my number to your brother. then we'll go out to eat something to talk about marriage alright?"

"yes!" the girl tightly hugged your leg as you said that.

"does that sound like a plan to you, takashi?" yes!

mitsuya hurriedly started to look in his pocket for a pen, when draken pulled one out of his pocket with a piece of paper and handed it to the purple haired boy, "there you go, casanova"

takashi handed you the paper and the pen, before you wrote your name with your phone number on it.

"see y'a soon, taka! bye, mana don't get lost again alright?"

as soon as you were out of sight takashi turned to draken with a stern look, "not a word about this, alright?"

"you're crazy!" draken crackled putting his hand in his pocket, "i'm going to tell everyone!"

"draken!"

"as your wingman i feel like it's my responsibility-"

"no it is not!"

chifuyu matsuno

"hurry up, chifuyu!" takemichi yelled at his friend. they couldn't be late. not for that.

"how come you are slow as hell during a fight, yet you sprint your life on a sunday at 8 am?" the blond joked as he calmly walked behind takemichi with not a care in the world.

"come on! we're gonna be late!" he repeated hurriedly before stopping abruptly while looking around him.

"late to what?" chifuyu yawned, before looking at his friend, who stood there looking around, up and down as if his brain had finally snapped, "you alright?"

"alright stand here and don't move." takemichi moved the delinquent around so that he would stand in the middle of a park- an empty park.

"did you finally snapped or...?" he asked when the time traveler started to back away from him, "are you going to kill me? is this really how it's gonna end-"

"watch out!"

a voice yelled, but it was too late.

a ball directly hit his face, knocking chifuyu to the dirty ground, his eyes closing due to the shock.

it took him a couple of seconds before finally opening his eyes again, only to realize that he was in heaven. the prettiest girl he had ever seen in his life held his head in her hands, her index and middle finger pressed against the front of his neck just below his jaw- making sure that his heart was still beating.

"oh- thank god! you're not dead!"

"are you an angel?" chifuyu mumbled placing his hand on top of yours- making sure you were real, "am i in heaven?"

you let a breathy chuckle at his words, "you're cute- but no you're not dead... i kicked a ball in your face- unintentionally of course!"

his eyes finally focused on you, remembering what had happened. he blinked a couple of time, his eyes scanning your face- a pretty girl's face... so close to his face with her hands on his face and his hands on her hand-

what?!

chifuyu's face became as red a tomato straitening his posture to apologize for touching you without your authorization, "i'm so sorry-"

his head came in contact with your head, making you pull back immediately from the blond. "ow! i told you i didn't do it on purpose!" you groan holding your head with your hands.

chifuyu gasped in horror at his own clumsiness as he placed a hand on the back of your head. hopping that the coldness of it would help you a little, "i'm sorry! i swear i didn't mean it! please hit me again so that we're even!"

...what? now why would he say that?

"what? what's wrong with you?! do you get turn on by getting hit or something?!"

chifuyu panically looked around to search takemichi so that he could help him. when he finally spotted him, hiding behind the swings, the time traveler was smiling proudly with his two thumbs up in the air.

his action making him recall a conversation the two of them had a couple of weeks earlier.

"so... am i married in the future?" chifuyu asked takemichi as he bit down the sandwich he made himself for lunch.

takemichi raised his brows at the question, "yeah-"

"really?!" the blond gasped, with heart in his eyes, "do i know her?! no wait- that'll ruin the surprise- is she pretty?! no wait- of course she's pretty you idiot!"

the time traveler chuckled at his friend's words, rubbing the back of his neck, "do you want me to tell you how you met?"

"no! it has to be a surprise!" chifuyu refused, "wait am i going to meet her soon? is that why you said that?! takemichi?! answer!"

"nah- like you said it has to be a surprise~"

"takemichi!"

"if it makes you feel better- you embarrassed yourself in front of her"

"how would that make me feel better?!"

that sneaky bastard.

"i'm sorry! i don't know how to talk to pretty girls..." chifuyu mumbled looking to the ground, but his face snapped back at you when he realize what he had just say, your eyes round at his words, "i- i mean not that don't know how to talk you! wait- not that you're not pretty! you are pretty- beautiful even! but that is not the point! i don't need you to hit me! just please don't think i hurt you on purpose- i don't hit pretty girls! no wait- i don't hit girls at all! but you being beautifully-pretty is just a plus you know! an-"

you smacked your hand on his mouth, stopping his rambling, the butterflies in your stomach flying way to much due to his words. "please stop-! you're too cute..."

takemichi titled his head at the scene in front of him, clearly not remembering that part of the story your older self told him in the future about how chifuyu and her had met-

but... mission failed successfully... i guess?

ⓒarmxnh

[roosterforme]

Explicitly Yours | Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: When Bob met you, he fell for you hard and fast. He thought you might be his perfect match, the one that would make his days feel full instead of lonely. He never would have dreamed you had a secret. But secrets are known to be revealed at the most inconvenient of times, and Bob's surprised hesitation could cost him the thing he wants most.

Warnings: Smut, oral, fluff, angst, misogyny, language, mentions of adult film industry

Length: 11k words (what have I done?)

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Former Pornstar!Female Reader

This was written for International Bob Floyd Fucks Month hosted by @attapullman. Check my masterlist for more! Banner by @thedroneranger

Bob was fresh off of a long deployment when he returned to work at North Island on Monday morning to find he would begin training as part of a new taskforce. He was tired and antsy, still overstimulated from being around so many people on the aircraft carrier, but he was also realizing how lonely he was. 

He'd arrived back to a sterile, empty, dusty apartment, slept for two days, and now he was back to work. He couldn't even have a cat or a houseplant. He really would like to have a cat or a houseplant. Mostly he thought about how nice it would be to have a girlfriend. A sweet one who would wait for him to return home so his apartment didn't feel so sad. One who didn't mind that sometimes he preferred it to be quiet. One who would let him dote on her a little bit when he was home.

When he was told to report to Classroom Six in his uniform instead of the tarmac in his flight suit, Bob knew it was going to be a long day. That idea only grew as soon as he walked in and was accosted by his friends. "You're back!" Natasha screeched, streaking across the room like a brunette cannonball and slamming into his arms. "It's not even fair that we weren't deployed together. I missed you!"

"Missed you too, Nat. Thanks for all the emails."

Then he felt Bradley, Jake and Javy all jostling him around until his glasses were crooked on his face. That's probably why he did a double take when he saw you. There was no way you were that beautiful. His glasses must need to be adjusted on his face. But he was wrong. You looked the same after he pushed his wire frames back into place. 

He swallowed hard and whispered, "Who's that?"

The guys all looked at him with matching smirks, and Javy told him your name. "Civilian. She's Warlock's new assistant. Got reassigned from a different department last week."

"She's real cute," Jake added. "And she looks so familiar."

"Why does she look so familiar?" Bradley asked, and Bob realized that the whole group was staring at you where you were conversing quietly with Warlock. "We've been trying to figure it out for a week."

You didn't look familiar to Bob. You just looked pretty with bright eyes and a friendly smile, both of which were trained on him now. Of course you were looking his way now, because everyone had mussed up his hair and wrinkled his uniform. He didn't mind so much that you caught him staring, because you were the kind of woman who must get that a lot.

"Lieutenant Floyd," Admiral Bates said as he stood, and Bob saluted his superior officer immediately. "Welcome back."

"Sir," Bob replied, doing his best not to let his gaze drift back to you. "Thank you."

Then Warlock called the room to order, and Bob ended up sitting in the front row, directly across from you. Barely six feet away. You were so pretty, it wasn't even funny. The curve of your face and your neck and the way you moved were mesmerizing. Smooth and fluid. Confident. Beautiful. You kept Warlock on task and seemed to have all the pertinent information about the class memorized. But all of it was lost on Bob, because he was way too distracted. 

By lunchtime, he had sweat through his undershirt, and he was sure his uniform shirt wasn't looking much better. The way you turned to look directly at him with a slightly guarded expression when you stood made him blush. It must be obvious to you that Bob couldn't keep his eyes off your face.

"Hi," you greeted. "Lieutenant Floyd."

Bob swallowed hard before something that sounded vaguely like Hello came out of his mouth. 

Your smile was tinged with a little sadness as you stuck out your hand. "I've been looking forward to meeting the last team member. Welcome back from deployment, Lieutenant."

And then you were walking away, but Bob was still sweating.

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

For the next four days, Bob got there early to ensure he had that same front row seat. He had a full blown crush. Heart pounding, palms damp, unable to focus on anything other than his crush on you. When he wasn't at work looking right at you, he was daydreaming about you. When he wasn't daydreaming about you, he was asleep and having actual dreams where you were his girlfriend. In one of them, you gave him a back massage, and he woke up with an erection. 

He could barely even look at you for the nauseous feeling that took up residence just below his pounding heart, but he couldn't look anywhere else. He'd never been like this before. Sure, he'd been attracted to many women in the past, but this was something else entirely. 

"But why is she so familiar looking?" Jake asked Bradley at lunch. "You sure you didn't fuck her?"

"Oh, I think I'd remember fucking someone that looked like that," Bradley replied with a chuckle. "Wait... did you fuck her?"

"I don't think so?" Jake replied, looking a little panicked. "She's not the one I went home with on my birthday, is she? Because you know I can't remember that night. And if I fucked her and can't remember it, then I deserve to be executed."

They both erupted into laughter with Javy, and Bob felt deflated. One of the three of them was definitely going to ask you out sooner rather than later, and instead of getting an occasional guarded glance in his direction, Bob would have nothing.

That night at the bar, he sat with his cup of peanuts and talked with Nat about work while everyone else played pool. "I guess we have another week or two of lectures ahead of us, but I can't wait to get back in the air."

"Yeah," Bob replied, glancing around the room in case the Hard Deck was your Friday night scene. It wasn't really his, but he came for his friends. And if he got to spend another week or two in the classroom, he wasn't going to complain; there would be no way for him to look at you when he was in the cockpit. 

"Bob!" Javy called as if he'd been trying to get his attention for a few minutes. He was waving a pool cue. "Take over for me. I need to go shoot my shot."

As Bob stood, he watched Javy head off into the crowd toward a woman who looked like you. He did a double take, his heart leaping up into his throat as Bradley started to push him closer to the pool table. Javy saw you. He was going to ask you out. A feeling of devastation filled his lungs, but then the woman turned around, and it wasn't you. Her smile wasn't nearly as pretty, and she didn't have the same eyes. 

Relieved, Bob sank the seven ball before running the table like he was some sort of pro. But he knew deep inside that he was going to have to ask you out himself or miss out on even having a chance with you. 

Every day the following week, he tried to give himself a pep talk. He could do this. Even if you said no, it would be fine. It would be good practice for him. But he knew it would not be okay. He liked the sound of your voice and the way you moved, and he thought about you in every room of his apartment doing a wide variety of things. Some of them made him blush.

He couldn't tell if it would be worse to never even try or to have to live with himself after you looked at him and said you weren't interested. At least if he kept things quiet, the guys couldn't find a way to make fun of him. And although they all liked to talk about you at lunch, to his knowledge, none of them had asked you on a date. Maybe they were as intimidated as him.

On Wednesday, you dropped your pen, and Bob picked it up for you. He got a "Thanks, Lieutenant Floyd," in response along with a cautious smile. Then on Thursday, he helped you move the projector before class started, and you said, "Thanks. You're a lot stronger than I am." He felt like he floated to his seat after that. 

On Friday, disaster struck. You were organizing your stack of notes at the end of the day when Bob stood. But then Bradley was there, leaning on the table in front of you after everyone had been dismissed. "Hey, so the guys and I were wondering if you ever made it out to the Hard Deck on Friday nights? I'd love to buy you a drink."

Bob nearly collapsed back into his seat as he watched your eyes searching Bradley's face like you were trying to tell if he was lying. "No, actually. I play Dungeons & Dragons most Friday nights."

A strangled sound escaped Bob. "You play D&D?" he asked before he could think better of it. 

"Yeah," you replied easily, giving him a little smile. "Been into it for years."

"Me too," he added, and you set down everything you'd been holding. 

"It must be hard to be part of a campaign when you deploy on occasion?" you asked, and Bob was convinced he wouldn't notice if a freight train was about to hit him. 

He nodded and took a step closer, watching you stand up. "It can be, yeah. But I've been in the same campaign for a few years, so I'd like to think I'm an integral enough part of it that everyone else doesn't mind waiting for me."

You laughed. It was so pretty. "I'm sure they don't mind one bit, Lieutenant Floyd."

"You can call me Bob," he blurted out, eyes going wide as you licked your lips and grinned. 

"Okay. Bob."

He could do this. He was already part way there, he thought. Just a little further. "Maybe you and I could get coffee this weekend and talk about our characters?"

When he was met with silence and your softly parted lips, he wanted to disappear. But your expression was trained on his face, and even though you still seemed a little hesitant, you asked, "Like a date? Because I'm free on Sunday."

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

You were laughing so hard, you had to set your coffee cup down next to your scone, and Bob was basking in the sound of it. "No, Bob! That's why I made my character a Rogue! Because I could never be such a scoundrel in real life!" He just listened to your laughter taper off while he grinned in the middle of the crowded cafe where you only seemed to be focused on him. 

"Well, that's why I made mine a Sorcerer. I don't know if you knew this about me, but I can't actually cast spells."

You started to laugh again. "Could have fooled me." But he must have been looking at you for too long, because you brought your hand up to your lips and asked, "Do I have crumbs on my face or something?"

"No, your face is perfect," he replied without considering his words, but your look of slightly embarrassed delight outweighed the tinge of mortification he felt.

You searched his eyes, seemingly always trying to gauge his sincerity. Then you surprised him when you said, "You're really sweet. It's refreshing." 

Bob looked down at his hands, unsure how to respond but pleased nonetheless. "Will you let me take you to a movie? Or dinner? Or both?"

"Yes."

The following morning at work, you were as focused on Bob as he was on you. The sweaty palms and erratically beating heart were back, only exacerbated by your alluring gaze and the promise of a second date on Thursday night. You agreed to dinner at an Italian restaurant, and Bob was already excited. 

"Why are you acting so strange?" Nat asked at lunchtime. "You're like both weirdly quiet and also talking so much?"

Bob laughed and said, "I went out on a date yesterday." And when he said it was with you, her eyes went wide. "We're going out again on Thursday."

"Bob!" she gasped, and now all of the guys were looking at him, and there was no way he would ever recover from this as Nat told them he got coffee with you.

"Welcome to the big leagues, buddy," Jake drawled, while Bradley glared at him. "Just wish I could figure out why she seems so familiar. Like it's just stuck in the back of my mind somehow. Like I know her."

"None of you know her as well as Bob does," Nat said with a laugh that made him smile. Before you and he parted ways at the coffee shop, you'd squeezed his hand in your smaller one, and it was already one of the sexiest moments of his life.

"Fuck you, Bob," Bradley grumbled. 

But it didn't matter. Bob really liked you and the fact that you talked about your Dungeons & Dragons character for a full hour. And your pretty face and your laugh. And the way you seemed interested in what he had to say. You were checking off all of the boxes for him. Smart, funny, kind of nerdy, interesting. He wondered how many dates he should take you on before asking you to be his girlfriend.

On Wednesday, as soon as Warlock dismissed everyone, you handed Bob a folded up note.

I can't wait for dinner tomorrow night. Here's my number.

He waited until he was home and sitting on his couch before he texted you. Less than a minute later, you responded. And that's how he spent the rest of his night. He didn't even eat until after nine, too wrapped up in what you had to say. Those intrusive thoughts and daydreams and real dreams about you in his apartment were starting to seem like they could be a reality. That's what he wanted. He could already picture you on the couch, wrapped up in the afghan his mom made, watching a movie with him. Or in his kitchen, helping him make dinner. 

He fell asleep on the couch in his uniform, too absorbed in this conversation to even go to bed properly. But that was fine, because suddenly it was Thursday, and not only would he see you all day at work, he'd get to eat with you and learn more about you.

Once again, Bob slid into that front row seat, and you had to work at keeping the smile from your face all morning. When you did look his way, he felt his breath catch in his throat. He was sure he'd pass out if you kissed him, and suddenly that was the only thing he could think about. Warlock talked about aggressive maneuvering, and Bob thought about your lips. Warlock talked about safety protocols, and Bob thought about your lips touching his.

It would be a miracle if he made it through dinner, but he had to try. You stood and started walking out of the classroom at the end of the day, but you turned back and said, "I'll meet you there at 7:30."

Bob offered to pick you up, but you said you'd drive yourself, and now he had more than two hours to kill. He took a long shower and fixed his hair before dressing in the outfit that Nat had pre-approved for him. He made sure his glasses were straight and that he had his credit card. The only other thing he could do was hope the conversation would come as easily for him this time, as it had over coffee.

He shouldn't have been worried about that. What he should have been worried about was the way his heart stopped when you walked through the front doors of the restaurant and directly for him, wearing a pretty blue dress with your face all made up like he was someone to impress. 

"Hi, Bob," you whispered. Then you kissed his cheek at the same time that he started to turn his head, and his lips nudged yours. He stood there shocked as you slipped your hand into his, and you started to tug him toward the waiting table when his name was called. 

His ears didn't stop burning the whole night. His brain kept circling back to the idea of another kiss. An intentional one. A kiss after a second date was not something he'd ever attempted before, but he was going to do it tonight. Based on the way you were looking at him, he had to. 

"Do you want more wine?" you asked, holding up the bottle. 

"Yes, please," he replied, because that would definitely help his cause. 

You smiled as you poured him some. "You have lovely manners." When you set the bottle down, you added, "And really pretty eyes."

Bob counted to three and then said, "I know we didn't even eat dessert yet, but I really like you. And tomorrow is your D&D night, but maybe you'll let me take you to a movie on Saturday?"

After dinner, in the parking lot next to your car, Bob kissed you. Intentionally. The first tilt of his head was hesitant, and when his lips met yours, he started to get nervous and pull away. But you let your fingers tangle in his hair, and you chased him for another kiss. "Which movie are we seeing?" you asked as you rubbed your nose gently along his.

"You can pick," he replied before kissing you again. "I just want to be around you." And then his hands found the small of your back and you inched yourself closer until your chest was touching his and your knee was bumping his leg.

You were smiling when he finally pulled his face away from yours. "I'll text you my address and the movie I want to see."

Bob smiled, too. "And then I'll pick you up, and we can go to the theater."

This was probably the best week of his life. He watched you pull out of the parking lot, and you waved to him through your window after you blew him a kiss. He went home and thought about what he might be able to cook for date number four. Perhaps you'd want to do the movie on Saturday and then have dinner at his place on Sunday? He'd figure it out. Either way, he was excited for more. 

"A third date?" Nat asked on Friday when everyone was taking a break in the classroom. "Damn, Bob." 

He eyed you where you stood talking quietly with Warlock, and you glanced his way, a soft smile on your lips. "I really like her. She's different. In a good way. And she makes me feel comfortable."

Nat rubbed his back in slow circles. "Make sure you put your arm around her during the movie. She might be expecting it. But if she doesn't snuggle against you, then you should remove it."

He nodded and swallowed. "Right. I can do that. Is it too soon to invite her over to my apartment for dinner?"

"I don't think so," she replied softly. "And maybe you should buy some condoms."

Bob's cheeks immediately flushed, but he didn't mind too much, since it was just Nat. "I don't think I'm ready for that yet."

"She seems sweet. Just tell her what you're feeling when the time comes."

Now everything was making Bob a little nervous as he drove through your neighborhood on Saturday night. He passed modern beachfront house after modern beachfront house, and then his GPS told him he had arrived. He saw your car in the driveway, but the house was gorgeous and must be worth a ton of money. Maybe you had a roommate? 

He parked his old truck and headed up the sidewalk with butterflies in his stomach and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. You opened the door before he even knocked, and then you were in his arms and invading his senses. "Are those for me?" you asked, kissing his cheek and poking the flowers. 

"Yes," he whispered, silently begging you to let him hold you for a few more seconds while he caught his breath and got himself under control. You turned him on in every way, and he'd never encountered this before. 

Your soft voice next to his ear as you chuckled and said, "Thanks, Bob," was not helping. You led him inside, and your house was incredible. There were no signs of a roommate, but there was a view of the ocean from the windows along the back of the house. He watched you bend in your little dress to find a vase for the flowers, and he felt completely overwhelmed. 

"Ready to go?" you asked, reaching for his hand a minute later. Your eyes were eager and sincere as you gazed up at him. Your fingers were laced with his, and Bob realized if he wanted to get to the next step with you, he needed to get through tonight.

"Yes." He kissed your lips softly, and you leaned against his arm as he walked you out to his truck. 

You spent the drive to the movie theater telling him all about your Friday night playing Dungeons & Dragons, and of course Bob felt more relaxed. He bought the tickets, and you got the popcorn, and when he put his arm around your shoulders, you snuggled against him, so he kept it there. By the end of the movie, the empty popcorn bucket was on the floor, and you had your palm resting on his thigh. 

"Did you like it?" you asked softly while the end credits scrolled. 

"Yes, I liked it," he promised, accepting another of your kisses.

"It's still early. Want to grab a drink somewhere?"

Bob really only knew one place, because he spent an awful lot of his free time there. "Should we hit up the Hard Deck? And then I can take you home and hopefully get another goodnight kiss?"

You had one eyebrow raised as you considered him. "Even after the third date? You're not going to try to make a move?"

Embarrassment flooded his cheeks as he muttered, "Not yet." And then your lips were all over his like he'd answered your questions correctly, even though he felt like his thoughts on the matter were actually probably wrong according to most people.

Eventually the two of you made your way to the bar, but visiting the Hard Deck was a mistake that he didn't see coming. You were tucked perfectly against his side as Bob walked across the parking lot and listened to you tell him how much you liked working for Admiral Bates. Then you ordered two vodka sodas, and Bob had to pluck your credit card from your hand to keep you from paying for them. 

"Hey!" you complained, but he just smiled. 

"I'll give it back later." He was rewarded with another kiss on the cheek, this one very close to his lips. 

"Well, look who's here," Jake drawled obnoxiously over the music from the jukebox and the noise from the crowd. "Bob and his friend."

You rolled your eyes and laughed, but you kept one hand linked with his as the drinks were set down. "Should we say hi to your friends?" you asked, and Bob nodded even though he really wanted to just find a small table on the other side of the room. But Nat looked excited, and the other guys looked annoyed, so Bob thought a short detour might be fun.

"Hey," Bob greeted everyone as you sipped your drink. 

"How was the movie?" Nat asked, elbowing Bradley in the side before he could say anything.

"Pretty good," you replied. "You know, for one of those Academy Award bait films." 

Bob laughed and looked at you. "I liked it a lot, actually." Or maybe he just liked sitting with his arm around you for two hours at a time, but he wasn't going to say that in front of everyone else.

Javy tapped a pool cue on the ground and asked, "Do you like to see a lot of movies?"

You nodded with a bit of an apprehensive look on your face that had Bob just about ready to pull you over to the table that another couple was vacating. "Yeah... I like films," you replied softly. 

And then Jake's jaw dropped open and he slapped the edge of the pool table. "Oh my god!" His green eyes were wide as he looked you up and down from head to toe with a smirk that made Bob want to stand in front of you. "That's why you look so familiar! You're Roxy Luxxe."

"Oh, fuck," Javy said as he dropped the pool cue on Nat's foot, and Bradley choked on his beer. 

But Bob just stood there and watched your posture stiffen and the look of apprehension on your face grow. "Who?" he asked softly, but you wouldn't meet his eyes.

"She's a porn star, Bob!" Jake said a little too loudly as he hooted. "A very memorable one, too. Played up different movie genres. Everyone I Did Last Summer. Sisterhood of the Traveling Sluts. Laid in Manhattan. Some real classics!"

"I retired," you said firmly, holding eye contact with Jake even though your voice sounded strained. "I left the industry five years ago."

"Guys," Nat said with a warning tone as she looked at Bob who was frozen in place, his head swarming with wild thoughts. An adult film star? You? But you worked at Top Gun and played D&D and liked scones. You went on three dates with Bob of all people.

Now Nat was physically moving Javy, Bradley and Jake back toward the game of pool, snapping her fingers at them as they continued to ogle you in your pretty dress. "So..." you whispered, turning toward Bob, looking anywhere but at his face. "That was... yeah..."

He had no idea what to say right now, and the longer he went without saying anything, the worse he felt inside. You used to have a job making adult films? Bob couldn't even handle watching those without blushing and stuttering. You must have had sex with dozens and dozens of different men and probably women too, and Bob suddenly realized he could go home and watch them for himself if he really wanted.

"Right," you said, finally looking at him as your eyes started to fill with tears. "Well... no hard feelings, Bob. I'll see you at work on Monday." Then you set your drink down, covered your mouth with one hand and made a beeline for the door.

Bob looked at the drink in his hand, and then at the one you set down. He left his on the table next to yours and followed you out to the parking lot. He looked around, calling your name and checking to see if you were by his truck, but you didn't respond. You were gone. 

Roxy Luxxe. That name was made up, and he didn't think it suited you as well as your real name. That one was perfect, and he liked it. He liked you. He could drive back to your house, but if you didn't want to talk to him, then what was the point? He'd already embarrassed himself by clamming up. But even worse, he thought he might have embarrassed you. 

"Damn it," he muttered, angry at Jake and all of them for making you feel small, and angry at himself, too. He got in his truck and drove himself home.

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

Well. You got three perfect dates before it all blew up in your face. Three amazing dates with Bob who was going to look at you like you were no longer worthy of his time now. Sure, you would have told him eventually. After another date or two, you would have brought it up in such a way that perhaps could have been a little bit more flattering or at least slightly tasteful. But of course you should have been expecting this. It wasn't the first time. Getting older only did so much for your face, and it didn't matter how much you changed your hair and makeup: Once Roxy Luxxe, always Roxy Luxxe.

You really thought none of them recognized you. It was almost refreshing that Bob had never heard of your alter ego. He probably never saw a single video of you having sex with Sam Slick or Dickie Divine. He didn't know exactly what your tits looked like, because you'd never taken your shirt off for him in person. He didn't know how you sounded when you faked an orgasm. As you ran down the block and got an Uber, you could hear Bob calling for you.

You weren't ashamed or embarrassed. You were not. This was your life, and you made every decision along the way for yourself. Nobody else. You put yourself through school. You bought the house of your dreams. You had an amazing job at Top Gun now for fuck's sake. But Bob was the first guy you met in a long time who made you think you could have a relationship with someone who wouldn't judge you for your past.

You walked from your Uber into your house and kicked your shoes across the entryway. More tears were filling your eyes, but you didn't want to cry again. Not over this. "But he was sweet," you whispered to your reflection in the hall mirror. His friends were kind of assholes, but he wasn't. Even if he didn't want to be with you now, which was understandable, those three dates were something else. Dungeons & Dragons discussions and coffee and pasta. 

You sighed wistfully at the flowers in your kitchen. Maybe a few more years and you'd look even less like Roxy Luxxe. That might make things easier to navigate. You made yourself a cup of tea and grabbed some crackers and sat out on your back deck where the moonlight reflected off of the ocean. The way Bob had wrapped his arm around you during the movie made it easy to imagine him here with you, keeping you warm. Instead you grabbed a blanket and snuggled in as you thought about how he would have been an excellent boyfriend. 

"You win some, you lose some," you told the night sky. If he was bothered by your past which you had designed so you could have a future, then he wasn't the one for you. You fell asleep outside in your dress, and the rising sun eventually woke you up. When you stretched and stood, the chilly air sent you running inside and toward your shower. 

The memories of last night were hanging out in the periphery of your mind. Going to work tomorrow was going to be awful. If you didn't like Admiral Bates so much, you'd request to work under someone else. But then again, why should you have to go to work feeling bad? Yeah, it was going to sting to see Bob, but it was still your job, and you deserved to be happy. 

You showered and took your time until all of your skin felt fresh and new, and then you threw on some oversized sweats after you moisturized. After breakfast, you could see if one of your friends from D&D was free to hang out. You were finally just about to check your phone to see if Bob had attempted to reach you when you heard a knock at your door. 

Bob's truck was parked in your driveway just behind your car. You could see it through the front window. According to your phone, he tried to call you twice, and he'd send you a handful of texts. But now he was here and knocking again. It was obvious you were home, so you wrenched your front door open and stood before him with your chin held high.

"What do you need?" you asked, already feeling weak at the sight of his pretty blue eyes and his glasses. 

"Hi," he said softly, just staring at you. He looked exhausted, like maybe he hadn't slept. Then he fumbled around in his jeans pocket and pulled out your credit card. "This is yours."

You plucked it from his hand and started to close the door. "Thanks for returning it. I'll see you at work."

Then he said your name. Your real name. "Wait. Please?"

You pressed your lips together. "What do you want, Bob?" 

The soft rise and fall of his solid chest held your attention while he started stuttering. "L-Look. I'm really sorry about last night."

You nodded. "Me too." It wasn't like you wanted to know, but you couldn't stop yourself from asking, "I take it you went home and looked up my videos?"

His eyes went wide as you crossed your arms over your chest. "I didn't."

You actually believed him, but you felt like making yourself hurt anyway. "Your friends have all seen me naked. Watched me getting fucked."

He seemed surprisingly calm as he half shrugged and kind of nodded. "So what?"

As you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, you said, "I'm not ashamed of anything I've ever done, okay? And I would have told you about it after another date or two... before we slept together." When he remained silent you added, "I started out in the adult film industry when I was eighteen. I quit when I was twenty five. I just turned thirty last month, and I guess I was silly for thinking enough time had passed. But last night was a prime example of why I haven't even tried to date anyone. Ever, really."

Bob was gaping at you now. "Not ever? But you're... you're so..."

"I know," you said, cutting him off before he could finish. "I'm hot enough to do porn, but nobody wants to date me." 

You started to close the door again, but he scrambled. "N-No, that's not what I was going to say. I was going to say you're flawless. A-And I shouldn't have let you leave the bar like that last night."

Your fingers loosened on the door, and soon it was drifting away from you, opening wider for Bob as he stood there with an eager expression. God, you just really liked him. And he seemed like he was being sincere. "What would you have done differently last night?" you whispered. 

He started to reach for you before tucking his fingers in his jeans pocket. "I would have taken your hand in mine as soon as I saw tears in your eyes." You bit your lips as he added, "And I would have told you that I like you so much. And if you wanted to leave, then I would have driven you home right away and walked you to your door."

He liked you so much. If there was a chance that Bob could be the kind of guy who still liked you with your past as Roxy Luxxe but also wasn't just trying to get in your pants and meet her for himself, then you wanted to give him a shot. "What would you have done after you walked me to my door?"

He was breathing deeper like he was nervous, and you wanted to touch him. "I would have asked you for that goodnight kiss that I'd been hoping for all day."

You were rushing for his arms, clearly surprising him in the process, but he held onto you as you gave him just the softest kiss. "I would have let you have it." Bob's hands found their way to the most respectful spot on your back, and you kissed him a little deeper. 

As soon as you broke the kiss, his fingers flexed against your back, and he said, "I want to go on another date with you. A bunch more. But I want you to be sure about me. I don't really care about Roxy Luxxe. I'm sure she was lovely, but I like you." You laughed. You couldn't help it. And he smiled as he asked, "Maybe you can think about it today and let me know at work tomorrow?"

"Okay."

He nodded and let out the breath he was holding. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

Your back felt cold where his hands used to be as you watched him walk back to his truck. He waved to you as he pulled out of your driveway, and you waved back with a different feeling in your heart than you had twenty minutes ago.

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

Bob was disappointed to find he would be in the air on Monday. When he arrived on base, he changed into his flight suit instead of his khaki uniform, wondering what that would mean when it came to seeing you. He'd slept poorly, wondering what your answer would be, hoping you'd say yes to another date.

"Hey, Bob," Jake drawled as Bob zipped up his flight suit. "How was your night with Roxy Luxxe?" He had a devilish smirk on his face, and Bob's skin was crawling. All of the other guys were looking at him now, and he knew his face was beet red. 

"I guess she was as good as she looks on film if she rendered you speechless," Jake added with a laugh. 

"Whoa, no," Javy said, shaking his head at Jake before looking at Bob. "Cut it out, man."

Bob counted to five, took a deep breath and then raised his forearm, and at least Jake had the decency to look panicked. Bradley stepped into the fray as Bob used his arm on Jake's chest to push him back against the lockers. Sure, Jake was more muscular, but Bob was no slouch, and he had a couple inches on him. "Don't call her that again. Don't even talk about her. While you're at it, don't look at her either."

Jake raised one eyebrow and nodded slightly, and Bob released him, walking right out of the locker room and making a quick detour to the classroom. But you weren't there. He ran his hands through his hair before he headed outside to find Nat. 

"Hey, there you are," she said gently. "You okay? After the bar and everything?"

"I'm fine," he replied, still looking around. "Have you seen her?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed, pointing behind Bob, and he whirled around in time to see you walk out of the tower with Warlock and Cyclone. You looked as pretty as you always did, and Bob found himself wanting you the same way today as he had last week. All of the daydreams about making breakfast together after holding you in his arms all night were still there. So were the thoughts about you snuggled up, laughing on his couch. But now he could also imagine taking walks on the beach where you lived.

Your gaze met his, and he watched you excuse yourself from the admirals before heading his way. Nat squeezed his bicep, and muttered good luck before making herself scarce, and then Bob was standing there with you a respectable three feet in front of him. 

"Lieutenant Floyd."

He smiled softly. "Good morning."

"So..." you began, looking down at his boots and pressing your lips together. "I'm free on Wednesday night. Or pretty much all day Saturday." Your eyes trailed up his body until you were nervously examining his face. "What did you have in mind for our fourth date?"

He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He'd been so apprehensive, afraid you were going to tell him to beat it, he hadn't bothered to come up with an actual date idea. "Cooking dinner at my place?" he blurted out.

You nodded like that sounded good to you. "Wednesday night then?"

He couldn't remember if he already had plans, but if he did, he'd cancel them immediately. "Yes. Wednesday. The day after tomorrow. Wednesday."

Your soft laughter filled him up as you turned and started to walk away, giving him just one word. "Wednesday."

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

You showed up to Bob's place with just a bottle of wine. He promised to take care of the rest. An hour later, a completely homemade pizza with fresh mozzarella and herbs was baking in the oven, and you had your arms draped around his neck. His lips tasted like the pinot noir the two of you had started drinking while you made the pizza, and his body felt strong and sure. As of right now, you thought you'd made the right choice by coming here.

"I really like you," he whispered for the third time this evening, and you believed him. You liked yourself. Why shouldn't he? 

"I like you, too, Bob." You reached up and adjusted his glasses before letting your fingers trail back through his hair. As his hands slid slowly down to your hips, it was easy to imagine how he might be in bed. Authentic. Meticulous. Earnest. Just like he was at work. The thought thrilled you to no end, but you were also afraid of the way you'd feel afterwards if you rushed it just to get the first one out of your system. So you let him hold you like you were important. 

The timer buzzed, and Bob laughed as you jumped further into his arms. You buried your face against his neck. "It's not funny." But you were laughing, too, and his lips met your hair. "Okay, it's kind of funny."

His stomach was growling, so you slowly pulled yourself free of his arms so he could put on his oven mitts. "Looks good," he remarked, but your gaze was fixed on him. "What do you think, Honey?" 

Bob's eyes went wide as he set the tray down, like he couldn't believe what he'd said. Your heart was absolutely thundering in your chest. "Looks good," you whispered in agreement. You hadn't looked at it. You were sure it was fine. You'd eat anything anyway. But he called you Honey, and you didn't mind it one bit.

You shared the pizza side by side on his couch along with the rest of the bottle of wine, and Bob listened to you tell him about your friends you meet up with on Fridays. And then he told you about his deployment as he finished the last few drops of wine. 

"I never really talk about this with anyone but Nat. This is nice," he said softly.

"Is it lonely?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper as he set down his glass and looked at you. 

You didn't want to rush him, because you could tell what he was going to say was important. And it was. His voice was a little rough as he looked at you and said, "Somehow it's lonelier when I come home. It's worse than being on an aircraft carrier in that I can't really have anything for myself here. There's nothing waiting for me. And a lot of the time, I feel like it would be too much to ask someone to do that. To wait for me. It would be a lot for someone to accept."

When you crawled onto his lap, he didn't stop you. And when you tilted his face up to make him look at you, his cheeks flushed pink, but his hands found your hips again. "I understand exactly how you feel." 

Then you kissed him, and you didn't stop for probably hours or maybe days. It felt that good. When you ended up beneath his warm body, you were so happy he came to your house on Sunday morning with your credit card. "Bob," you whimpered, and that seemed to bring him back from wherever his head was while he kissed his way down your neck and along your chest. His hair was a mess from your fingers, and his lips were a little puffy from the kisses, and you were pretty sure he wouldn't let you down again even if his friends were idiots.

You'd broken the spell, but he didn't seem to mind as he stood and pulled you to your feet. "It's getting late. We have work in the morning. Let me walk you to your car?"

At this rate, you were afraid you'd let him do anything he wanted, because he held your hand the whole way there. And he kissed you just right and told you he'd love to spend part of Saturday with you.

"Come over," you told him, and he promised he would.

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

It was chilly as Bob watched the sunset over the ocean from your back deck, but his body was warm from the combination of having you and your fleece blanket wrapped around him. You fit perfectly in his arms. Frankly, you seemed to fit pretty perfectly in his life. He wouldn't mind spending all of his Saturdays like this, listening to your gaming recap from the night before while you occasionally kissed the side of his neck. Your fingers were laced with his, and when you asked if he wanted to share a bottle of wine you got when you were in Napa Valley, he responded with a different question. 

"Is there any chance you'd want to be my girlfriend?" You shivered in his arms, so he wrapped you up a little tighter. "I can't stop thinking about you being the one waiting for me to get home from a deployment."

You didn't speak right away which made him apprehensive. He'd somehow been the one to push things too fast. This was something he'd never managed to do before. You tightened your grip on his hand as you said, "Bob... people are going to recognize me. It's going to happen sometimes, no matter what I try to do about it, and I-"

He cut you off with a kiss. "I don't care about that, Honey." Then more kisses. The bottle of wine in your kitchen was left forgotten as you carefully slipped one leg over Bob's lap and sat straddling him. You kept the blanket wrapped snug around both of you, your body nestled against his as your foreheads met. "I just really like you."

The sun had disappeared below the horizon. Everything was pink and purple and dusky and dreamy as your cheek nudged his glasses making him smile. "If you think you can handle being my boyfriend, then I'm not going to try to stop you."

Heart pounding, he asked, "So is that a yes?"

"Yes." Your kisses were slow and soft, and Bob kept chasing the smile on your lips, because he couldn't get enough. With his eyes closed, all he could hear was the ocean below and the soft sounds you made. All he could feel was your body everywhere. You smelled familiar. You tasted good. 

As you ran your fingers through his hair, your other hand trailed down to his shoulder, along his bicep and then across his chest. When Bob dared to let his hands dip from your waist to your hips and butt, you scooted a little bit closer. He realized when your fingers skimmed his abs that he had an erection. 

Embarrassed, he tried to break the kiss and move his hands, but as soon as he started to move, you pulled away first. In the dying light, he could see your wide eyes and the alluring rise and fall of your chest. Part of your lace bra strap was showing, and your nipples were obviously hard. His cock throbbed in his jeans as you asked, "Do you want to stop?"

He knew you could read the desire on his face. When he started to shake his head, you rubbed yourself against his jeans where he was hard for you. "No," he grunted, head tipping back as he panted. "I don't want to stop."

"Good," you whispered next to his ear, lips barely grazing him. "Neither do I." You took his hands in both of yours and brought them back up to your body, encouraging him to touch every curve.

He gasped your name as he watched you slowly rolling your hips against him, seemingly in no hurry as you bit your lip. When he reached for the hem of your shirt, you didn't stop him, and he tossed it aside. Your body looked magical in the twilight, and as he reached for your bra clasp, realization hit him. 

You were used to a certain caliber of partner for these kinds of activities. Standards he probably couldn't meet. "You're hesitating again," you whispered, voice breaking a little bit on the last word. "If you don't think you want to do this with me, I completely understand, Bob."

It was getting difficult to read your expression in the darkness, but when you stopped touching him and pulled your arms to your sides, he started to panic. "It's not that," he promised. "But you've been with... p-professionals. Guys who know what they're... doing." He ran his hands through his own hair. "And I'm not the most experienced. I've only had two partners."

"Oh, Bob," you moaned, and his cock ached at the sound. He wanted you. His whole body was screaming for it, and then he watched as you unhooked your own bra and let it slide down your arms and fall from your fingers. Your body was flawless, back arched, every curve designed to make him crazy. He made a sound somewhere between a groan and a whine as you leaned in closer and kissed him. "You'll be so much better."

Your bare skin was everywhere as the blanket slipped from around you. Bob's hands splayed across your back to keep you warm, but the supple feel of you had him thrusting against your core as he gingerly ran his thumb along the side of your breast. "So much better!" you whispered before pulling his bottom lip between yours.

He was still a little nervous, throbbing against you in his pants like a teenager as he cupped your breast in his rough palm. When you trailed your lips down his neck, he said, "I just want to be good enough for you."

Bob was thankful it was dark and you couldn't see him blushing as you nipped his earlobe and giggled. "Bob. You're better, because you're real. And you're turning me on, because we're not faking anything." You moved your right hand down between your bodies and squeezed his cock through his jeans as you sucked on his neck. "There's nothing fake about this."

He was gasping as he reached for your hand. "Honey." He couldn't take too much more teasing, or at this rate, he'd finish before his pants were off. "Can we go inside?"

You were off his lap and reaching for him with both hands, pulling him to his feet and closer to you. "My bedroom sound good?"

"Yes." 

It was honestly difficult to walk. You led him through the sliding glass door and inside where the soft lighting somehow made your topless body look even more stunning. You brought him down the short hallway to your room, walking backwards and looking up at him with a smirk as you unzipped his jeans. He made another unintelligible noise as he watched the way your breasts swayed and bounced with each movement. 

Your bedside lamp provided the only light, and Bob was still looking around, trying to get his bearings, when you pulled his shirt and undershirt off. "Oh," you gasped, running your palms up his flat stomach to his slightly broader chest. "God." He couldn't fathom that you liked what you saw and felt enough to leave you panting his name, but you definitely were. Then your hand was down the front of his unzipped jeans, and he grinned as you tried your best to wrap your hand around his length, your eyes growing wide. "Bob."

And now he wasn't really nervous, because this actually felt really easy and good with you. You were giving him all the queues that you wanted more. You were kissing him as you stumbled to the bed. You were trying your best to get your hand around his cock, but you couldn't. He picked you up and hauled you up to the pillows, and you squealed. All he could see was your beautiful smile as you kissed him over and over, only pulling away to run your nose along his cheek and whisper his name. 

He watched you shimmy out of your yoga pants and underwear and push them aside, and it was no wonder you were able to make a career out of using your body the way you did. But if most of that was just acting, then he wasn't going to let you down now. He watched as your head tipped back, and you pressed yourself up against his hands when he gently squeezed your breasts. Mesmerized by all of this, he let his hands drift down over your ribs and along your sides until he was met by your hips.

Bob worked his hands slowly back up your body and down again, pausing to press his lips to your breasts as you arched for him again. You felt soft, and you were sensitive, running your bare foot up and down his leg as you whimpered. When he squeezed your hips again, he let his gaze fall below your belly button.

His voice was soft and deep as he asked, "Is it okay if I taste you, Honey?"

You instantly spread your legs a little wider, grabbed him by his hair, and said, "Please."

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

Bob's hands were huge, with thick veins and graceful, calloused fingers. All he was doing was touching you and kissing you, and you were very fucking worked up. This was already a treat, just being with a guy who wasn't grabbing at you and trying to shove his cock in your mouth. But it was more than that. It was the soft tone he used when he said your name and the way he was looking at you. 

Gentle but strong. That was how you'd describe your newly minted boyfriend. You smiled at him as he stroked his fingers down your sides. You hadn't had a boyfriend in years, and Bob was so sweet and handsome, it was absolutely outrageous. 

"Is it okay if I taste you?"

All of that and he wanted to go down on you? "Please." Your voice was needy, and your body was so ready for him. You eased your thighs further apart so he could see all of you, and you let your fingers tangle in his soft hair. You were so excited, and when the wire rim of his glasses brushed the inside of your thigh, you shivered with pleasure. 

Then his lips met your pussy, and you almost went through the fucking ceiling. Those big hands were at your waist, holding you in place on the bed as he licked up along your slit, slowly tasting every inch before he hummed softly. You wanted to watch, but you could barely lift your head off of the pillow as he licked up again and again before kissing your clit. 

When you managed to prop yourself up on one elbow, you got a great view of his big cock hanging out of his unzipped jeans when he lifted his head away from your body. "Does it feel good?" he asked, and you laughed. He pulled away from you further, concern on his face as you started to reach for him.

Your nails scraped along the day's worth of stubble on his cheek as you sat up and kissed him, tasting yourself. You licked at his lips and chin, cleaning up the wetness before you whispered. "It feels better than good."

A few seconds later, you were on your back again, legs over his shoulders as he ate your pussy with fervor. All of your nerve endings were singing his praises. He had you spread with his rough thumbs, and when he looked up at you, even his nose was wet. Your hands were fisted at your sides while you gently rolled your hips against his mouth and whined at the perfect feel of him. "Shit. Fuck," you gasped. He sucked on you with just the right amount of pressure, and your toes were literally starting to curl. "Bob!" 

All you got in response was another hum of pleasure that made you squeal followed by some seriously lewd, wet sounds. His broad shoulders pushed against the backs of your thighs, and you felt him teasing at your opening with the tip of one finger. Tongue circling your clit, he glanced up at you over his crooked glasses. His cheeks were pink, and there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead as you reached for his hair again. "I want you to fuck me."

"Okay," he agreed, nodding his head like he hadn't brought you close with his mouth. He looked a little dazed and pussy drunk, and you thought you could fall in love with that expression on his handsome face. 

"Come here," you whispered, kneeling so you could kiss him. "You taste like me," you added, licking his cheek and chin. "And I love it."

"Honey," he growled, and when you looked down, you could tell he was aching. You pushed him onto his butt and helped him the rest of the way out of his jeans and snug briefs, his thick cock bouncing for you. Then you looked at him there in just his socks and glasses, and your entire body clenched with a need you'd never known before. 

You took his cock in both hands, leaned down and kissed away all of his precum while every muscle in his abs and both legs tensed up. "Holy shit," he gasped. When you tugged on his shoulders, he moved with you, covering your body with his own. His weight and warmth against your bare skin felt essential to your happiness, and when you kissed him, he said, "And you taste like me." 

His cheeks flushed a pretty pink as you ran your tongue along his lips. You couldn't get enough. He shifted his body slightly, and his cock came to rest on your slick clit, making you moan into his mouth. You arched away from him, moving your hips back and forth a few inches at a time, using his body to bring yourself pleasure as you clung to his arms. "God, Bob. You haven't even been inside me yet, and I'm a mess." 

The veins in his neck and forehead were more prominent as he panted, a bead of his sweat rolling down to the tip of his nose. You licked it away as you shifted your hips so he was positioned at your entrance. He was thick, and even though you were soaking wet now, you had to use one hand to help guide him. You shook your head from side to side, your body taking him slowly. He buried his forehead to your neck, and the bite of his glasses against your collar bone kept you grounded. 

"Honey," he moaned, clutching at your hips as he finally, finally bottomed out. You were completely full, already clenching around him softly and enjoying the rough feel of his trimmed hairs against your clit. He thrusted a few times like he couldn't help himself, and you kissed his forehead. "Am I hurting you?"

His neck was a little slick against your fingertips. You'd been fucked too rough or without enough lubrication to the point of it being painful several times before, but this was the exact opposite. "Bob, you feel incredible." He lifted his head and kissed your lips, rewarding you with another thrust. Your legs tangled with his as you pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him harder. 

His lips found their way to your neck and breasts, and his thrusts started coming quicker, but every smooth movement left you gripping at him, your body begging for more as you whimpered and whined. He murmured your name against your skin, sucking on your nipples until you were seeing stars. And each thrust filled you somehow better than the last. And every movement left you grinding your clit up for more. 

You were going to come. You were going to come so hard. You could feel it. The buildup was delicious. Lips and stubble and glasses on your breasts. Hands on your hips. Bob everywhere.

"I'm not wearing a condom. Honey," he panted. "I'm not wearing a condom."

"It's okay," you whined loudly, suddenly gasping and clawing at his shoulders for leverage. "You can come wherever you want."

He chose inside you. And you came, hard and long and loud, hands on his face while you kissed him. You knew he was going to be so much better. You called it from the start. From when he surprised you by asking you out for coffee. He was immediately better than anything else you anticipated for yourself, and even when he fumbled, he recovered. You ran your lips along his cheek and back to his ear and whispered, "You're so much better than faking it."

He rolled both of you onto your sides, facing each other while he was still deep inside you. "Please don't ever do that. Fake it," he said, voice deep and raspy as he ran his rough palm along your cheek. "I want to know I'm good enough for my girlfriend." 

You smiled and tucked your head under his chin, and he wrapped his arm around you. His skin was warm beneath your lips, and his words were soft and gentle. When he climbed out of bed, he asked where he could find a washcloth, and he came back with it a minute later, ready to help you get cleaned up. He even held your robe out for you and waited while you used the bathroom, but you did that quickly, finding you wanted to be right next to him as much as possible.

Bob looked delicious in his briefs and undershirt, and you wrapped your arms around his waist as you asked, "Do you want to go back out under the blanket? With the bottle of wine? We could look at the stars. Listen to the ocean before bed."

He kissed your forehead. "As long as I'm with you."

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

Six months later...

After eight weeks away, Bob was excited to get home. He really hoped this was the start of his deployments feeling lonelier than the time between them did. Especially since he was going home to you and the house where he moved all of his stuff as soon as you asked him to live with you. He couldn't wait to hold you all night and hear all about your Dungeons & Dragons campaign and ask how you'd been enjoying work.

As soon as the aircraft carrier started docking in San Diego, he was at one of the lower railings along with the other aviators, and he spotted you immediately. You were bouncing around at the front of the crowd shouting his name and waving like a lunatic, and he had missed you so much. "Hey, Honey!" he shouted, and you just jumped higher. 

"Damn, Floyd. That's your girl?" asked one of the guys he'd flown with.

"Yeah," he replied, never taking his eyes off you. "That's my girl."

Six and a half minutes later, he was practically running down the long ramp with his duffle on one shoulder to the spot where you were waiting for him. 

"Bob!" you screeched as he scooped you up in your tiny dress and kissed you until you were as breathless as he was. "I missed you. I love you so much, and I missed you."

"I want to go home, Honey," he said, kissing you again. "Take me home."

"Gladly," you gushed, grabbing his hand and leading him toward his own truck. "I have big plans for your big cock," you announced to everyone around you, and Bob felt his cheeks warm up. "Well, and the rest of you, too. We can make a pizza together and eat out on the deck."

"Anything you want," he promised, tossing his bag in the truck bed and pushing you against the door. "And I love you, too." 

You only let him kiss you for a few seconds, before you were pushing him away. "I know you do. Let's go home." You held his hand on the short ride, and when he pulled in the driveway, you yanked him right out and led him inside the house. 

This felt incredible, knowing you wanted him as badly as he wanted you, running hand in hand to the bedroom. Then you stopped short and turned to face him as he bumped into you with a laugh. "You know how you're kind of your alter ego right now when you're in your uniform? Lieutenant Floyd?"

"Yeah?" he whispered, leaning down to kiss you, but your lips curled into a smile as you backed away.

"Well... I thought you might like to meet my alter ego?" you asked softly, easing that little dress up to your hips and along your torso before pulling it over your head. You were standing there in the tiniest black thong and bra set known to mankind. "Do you want to meet Roxy Luxxe?"

Bob just nodded and reached down to palm himself through his khaki pants as he gaped at you and grunted, "Uh huh." If Roxy was just a playful extension of his girlfriend, then yes, he wanted to meet her. 

You bit your lip and coaxed him toward the bed, running your hands down your body to your hips where you played with your underwear. "Good. Because she wants to meet you, too. And she wants you to know she's only going to be available exclusively for Bob Floyd's enjoyment."

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

Thanks for reading this long one-shot! I wanted Bob to get to fuck a former pornstar, because nobody deserves such a treat the way Bob does! But then I got attached to them and had to make it special. Bob and the artist formerly known as Roxy Luxxe are adorable together. Thanks to @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger and @sylviebell for your help!

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[eowynstwin]

Blackbird, Fly - One

Cowboy Gaz x mail order bride—only, not his. After exchanging letters for half a year with ranching man Hans König, you finally travel out west to marry him. You stand alone on a train platform, whole life in your hands, ready to promise yourself to a man you’ve yet to meet. masterlist ao3 next

You step off the train carrying every one of your earthly possessions clutched in both hands. In one a carpetbag, only half-full, and in the other, a stack of letters tied together with string. A paltry summary of a very small life, you thought months ago, but today you only see how much room is left over where happiness might take root.

It began with an ad in the paper—Widowed Ranch Owner Seeking Tender Companionship—and a mailing address to a livestock town out in the west. Hans König described himself as Austrian, unusually tall, and fair lonesome in a big ranch house with no woman to make it a home. He’d immigrated to the United States as a child, married very young, had no children, and was forced to watch his first wife perish to consumption.

After two years of mourning, he said in the paper, he finally accepted that she would not want him to live and die alone. And thus, if there were any kind-hearted lady willing to give an old widower a chance, he would promise to take very good care of her.

You’d replied as fast as you could get your hands on paper and pen. The fourth child and only daughter of a tobacco farmer, you hadn’t much else to occupy yourself with. And truly, you hadn’t expected anything to come of it. Proficient in the written word though you were, there was not much else to recommend you. You brought a tiny dowry, skill with a sewing needle, a general knowledge of plants, and mediocre cooking to the bargaining table; he was horse man tried and tested by the challenges of the frontier.

You were under no illusions that you were the most attractive candidate.

Still, you wrote your letter. Described yourself to him as honestly as you could—neither especially pretty nor particularly accomplished, but told by friends and family to be of gentle demeanor and useful intelligence. Forgave him preemptively if he never responded, and wished him the best of luck in his search for a wife.

You’d nearly fainted dead away when his response had arrived as immediately as the next mail wagon. Hans König had addressed you by name, as intimately as if he’d known you for years, and said,

I was very pleased to receive your letter, Miss, and am terribly excited to correspond with you in the future. Although you write that you cannot imagine yourself an appropriate wife for a man of my experience, I myself cannot imagine what more you must need to be such. While I will not do you the discourtesy of making any promises with only my first letter to you, I will tell you truly that I was glad of your introduction, and hope you will grant me the pleasure of knowing you further.

Your whole family had been so excited for his response that Pa had broken out his fiddle after dinner that night, rejoicing already that his little girl’s future was secure.

What followed was a whirlwind half year of romance over letters sent back and forth so fast that you kept running out of ink for your pen. When you’d related this problem to Hans, he’d sent not only an entire box of lampblack ink, but a new steel pen, blotter, and lap desk on which to write.

There is no greater misfortune I can imagine now than to lose the pleasure of your correspondence, he’d written.

Pa had cried that day. Your mother had drawn you close and kissed your hair, whispering a thankful prayer that her baby was going to be alright.

In every letter, Hans demonstrated himself to be a kind man, thoughtful and patient, and as the relationship between the two of you blossomed, you started to believe it yourself. You had long given up on the possibility of marriage, thinking yourself too old and plain by now to offer much to any man worth marrying.

Now you stand alone on a train platform, whole life in your hands, ready to promise yourself to a man you’ve yet to meet.

There are only a few people milling about the station for you to survey. The surest way to pick Hans out from a crowd, he’d written, was by height. He towered over most people, and expressed hope in an early letter that he would not dwarf you too much.

But as you look around, no one stands out above the rest. In fact, the people here aren’t much different than what you’re used to; their simple dress and slight grubbiness prove them to be working folk, the kind you’d expect in a town like this, stockyards visible from the station. Your kind of people—at least normally.

Anticipating this meeting, you’d put on the best dress you own, a light frock with little printed flowers all over it. Your hair is braided and pinned up as fashionably as you could manage early this morning, and you’d even dabbed a little rouge on your lips for the occasion. As far as you can tell you are the cleanest, best-dressed person in the vicinity, and you notice not a few people openly staring.

The thought would usually make you blanch, but right now you hope it will only help your would-be husband to catch sight of you. You still can’t find him—

“Mrs. König!”

You whip your head in the direction of the call. Relief trickles through you, soothing an anxiety you hadn’t wanted to acknowledge yet, and then you see that stepping onto the platform is the handsomest man you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Dark skin, warm as a summer’s day. Lips soft and full like a peach fresh-picked from the tree. A serious brow over serious eyes.

Strong and lean in build, with a loose, confident swagger in his step. He approaches, his large, long-fingered hands coming to rest on the buckle of his belt as comes to stand before you.

Tall, to be sure.

But not unusually tall.

This cowboy—profession evidenced by the worn state of his attire—is not your intended husband.

Something in you falls at that.

Swiftly you berate yourself for the betrayal. Your Hans is gentle, generous, kind. So what if this man before you is attractive? Marriages must be built on more, and Hans has already given you more. His looks shouldn’t—don’t—matter to you at all.

“Not as of yet,”you reply to the cowboy, “but soon. May I help you, sir?”

He fixes you with an intense gaze. Up close, you see thick, dark lashes framing even darker eyes—the color of which, you realize, is as black as fresh-turned soil.

The smell of humus fills your memory, powerfully earthy and fresh, such that you could be on your hands and knees with your face to the ground right now. You feel the phantom of it between your fingers; rich and cool, like at the start of the planting season before the rains. So dark and fine as to live between the grooves of your fingertips for days.

“I’m Kyle Garrick,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m a wrangler for Hans König, miss. He sent me to meet you.”

You blink. The fantasy you’d dreamed up on the train ride—of seeing Hans across the platform, recognizing him instantly, and running into his arms—finally crumbles into dust.

“Oh,” you say.

Kyle Garrick frowns. “You’re disappointed.”

“No!” you exclaim immediately. “No, he must be such a busy man, I couldn’t expect him to drop everything for me.”

The cowboy sucks his lips between his teeth, studying you for a heartbeat, then—“He is busy. Mr. König is finishing preparations for your wedding this evening. That’s why he couldn’t come.”

What disappointment had begun to sprout in your stomach immediately strangles down to the root. Joy surges in your chest like birds taking flight.

“A wedding!”

You didn’t need a wedding, you’d written to him—you were so happy merely to marry him, you couldn’t possibly ask for more. All you needed, you told him, were his hands in yours, promising before God to be your husband for the rest of your lives. You’d meant it, too.

But an actual wedding!

“Biggest the town’s seen in years,” says Kyle Garrick. “Folks haven’t talked about anything else for weeks.”

“Oh!” Then suddenly you despair. “Oh, I’m not dressed at all for a wedding. If I’d known, I would’ve worked on this dress more, I would’ve put my hair up better!”

Kyle surprises you with sudden passion. “You look perfect. You’re the prettiest thing that’s ever come into this train station, miss. This town, even.”

“Oh,” you say again. You flush hot up into the roots of your hair. Embarrassed, you avert your gaze, looking down at his worn roper boots. “I’m not, really. But it’s kind of you to say.”

His hand touches yours, the one holding onto your carpetbag. When you look back up at him, his expression is gentler.

“Mr. König will agree with me,” he says, “I promise.” He eases the handle from your grasp. Up close, he has a comforting smell. Leather, and sweet hay, and campfire smoke.

“You think so?” you ask, tightening your grasp on the letters in your other hand.

He nods. “I do. Now come on—I brought a cart. Let me take you home.”

-

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Servant’s Secret 

♡ featuring: ayato kamisato x f!reader

♡ summary: the commissioner catches you during some alone time, and decides that punishment is in order. wc: 2.1k+

♡ cw/tw: afab, unprotected sex, breeding, edging, overstimulation, spanking, humiliation, slightly sadist?, cunnilingus, mild degradation, pet names (bunny)

notes: hello! I read a lot of smut but never write it and it's been years since I've written anything so I figured I'd give it a try! sorry if I'm a bit rusty. let me know if u like it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

The commissioner was a busy man. When he occasionally visited the town, his honeyed words left a lasting pleasant impression on the public. However, Ayato would be gone many nights, returning haggard from cumbersome affairs. He flashes a gentle smile, reluctant to reveal the vitriol he harbored for these repetitive duties. He was a man to be feared, stopping at nothing to achieve his goals. Stern and prideful and clement. Only the most loyal companions could see him in this vulnerable state. Therefore, it came as a surprise to Ayato when he took a liking to you.

Maybe it was the way you accidentally beamed whenever he returned to you, awaiting his arrival like a loyal pet. “Welcome back, my lord.” You’d say in a monotone cadence. Though you were anything but when he wasn’t around. When you and Thoma had your weekly water fights in the kitchen during food prep he pretended not to notice. When your soft giggle echoed against the confines of his heart, he pretended not to notice.  

Simply because the thought of you smiling for everyone but him was frustrating.  

You were a lowly servant. You were careful not to disturb his tedious work. You felt he was much more important than you; a man this compassionate and protective over his people should be considered in the highest regard. Still, you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks glow hot whenever he called your name, saccharine vibrations that sent shivers down your spine. Sometimes his gloved hand would graze against your shoulder or neck, leading you to wonder how it would feel in other places. He never caught you dozing off—or so you thought—but daydreaming about his lips decorating your neck was a daily occurrence.  

Tonight, was a night like any other after finishing your tasks. As you wandered through the garden, the stars casted an orchestra across the welkin. You tell yourself repeatedly to repress the improper thoughts you had of him. But turning to the sky to cleanse your mind doesn’t always help, and so you return to your quarters for a more direct approach.  

Sliding your hands between your legs, the only thing you can think about is Ayato’s delicate fingers working their way inside you, kissing the shell of your ear with light praises. Usually, you were more careful to lock the door and control your voice, but your senses were clouded with the stimulation of chasing your high. “Ayato...” you whimpered into the bed sheets continuously. Just as you were about to cum, a familiar voice approached the door. “(Y/N)? In the morning I need you to- “. Cracking the door open, Ayato caught a glimpse of your flustered, trembling figure.  

It happened so fast you couldn’t register it. He immediately shut the door, followed by a quick “My apologies”. Your orgasm was immediately ruined, and you were mortified. You never prayed to an archon before now, but you called on all of them to save you in this moment.  

Your plan was to avoid him at all costs. The only thing you could hope for was that he didn’t catch the moaning. Your tasks for the next two days were done quickly and quietly, too stricken by horror to bear seeing his face. Ayato immediately caught on, but the thought of chasing you was slightly amusing to him.  

On the third day, your cleaning was just wrapping up.  

“Excellent job today, (Y/N).” His presence this close to your ear was shocking and you almost dropped the duster in your hand. “Thank you, my lord. I’ll be going now.”  

“Mm, no. I would like to speak with you privately.” He said, his lips slightly curling. You wanted anything but that right now.  

“Have I… have I done something wrong my lord?”  

“Have you?” He retorts, his eyes peering into yours. You felt all the air leave your chest. “I don’t think so, no.”  

“Okay, come then.” His tone was almost commanding more than playful, and you knew not to protest.  

In his quarters, you both sat quietly for some time. He leaned forward with his hands under his chin, staring at you from across the desk. You try your best to avert his gaze, but his eyes never leave you. The room feels so much smaller now, like a predator surrounding its prey.

“You’ve been avoiding me. Have I done something to offend you?”  

“No, my lord” you reassure him, “I was just feeling a bit ill.”  

“Ah, I see.” He lazily covered his mouth with one hand, attempting to stifle the sly smirk that creeped onto his face.  

“I can’t allow my subordinate to fall under the weather. May I check?” You allowed him to get closer. He removed one glove and grazed his hand against your face, then the back of your neck, then your ears. You were burning up just from the contact of his bare hand.  

“You feel hot. Looks like a bad fever.” You nod along, fueling the lie.  

“Do liars commonly come down with the flu?” 

“…What?”  

“You were shaking and sweating when I caught you a few days ago, perhaps that’s a symptom.” You immediately knew what he was talking about and went into panic mode looking for a proper explanation. Instead of padding for more lies, you drop to your knees and bow your head.  

“I’m so sorry, my lord. My actions were disrespectful and crude and this will never happen again.”  

A soft ‘tsk’ came from Ayato. “Why are you using ‘my lord’ when my first name was commonplace on your lips not too long ago?” Nothing could make your life worse right now. You couldn’t find any other words and bowed your head again.  

“I’m deeply sorry.”  

“…So, what should I do? I can’t just allow this to go unpunished.”  

“I’ll accept any punishment, my lord.”  

His eyes darkened at this statement.  

“Anything?”  

“Your lying is more indecent than everything else. What did you say again?”  

You were completely stripped naked and bent over his desk, your hands tied behind your back. It was an hour since you accepted your punishment, and you came three times already. A clit sucker is attached to your pussy, while Ayato sits back and curls his fingers into your dripping heat. Any rational thought you had sunk a while ago. “So- ’m so sorry my lord.” Your words teeter on babbling; mind foggy from his skillful digits. A sharp slap makes contact with your ass a few times, forcing your back to arch and send spikes of pleasure through your legs.  

“I’d appreciate it if my pet was more honest. But it’s okay, I have no problem reteaching obedience.”  

He sped up his fingers, matching the movement of your body writhing in pleasure. Your cum dripping down his gloved fingers made his cock twitch and grow in his tightening slacks. “Poor thing, your pussy is so puffy and sensitive. You’re not going to give up on me, right?” He detached the sucker from your clit and admired how swollen you were. The feeling of being empty made you whine, before he sent a stinging slap to your clit.  

“Ah. No, my l- “Before you could finish, Ayato shoved his fingers covered in your essence in your mouth. You sucked on his fingers, and he tugged your hair roughly, forcing you to look up at him. “You are not to call me ‘my lord’ anymore. Only Ayato. Do you understand?” You nod through half-lidded eyes.  

“Good girl.” He spread your backside to get a perfect view of the sticky mess coating your inner thighs and ass and licked a long stripe into you. The feeling of his wet muscle invaded your senses and turned your brain to mush. He ate you out like a starving man, grunting from the squelching noises that erupted from your core whenever he sucked on your folds. He stopped occasionally to catch his breath and went back in to lap up your juices.  

“Please Ayato, ‘M gonna cum.” He was greedy and unforgiving, feeling his smile soaked in your arousal whenever you pulled away because it was too much. The raw sensation made your knees buckle, but your legs subconsciously opened wider for him. You just wanted to be good for him. Then he suddenly stopped. 

“Are you sure you deserve it?” He cooed. You turn to meet his dark sadistic gaze. 

“Please.” Your words are broken and fall to a whisper, tears spilling from heightened sensitivity. His smile is soft sunlight despite the look in his eyes, and he takes your chin within the caress of his palm. “When you misbehave, these things happen. I don’t think you deserve it just yet.”  

Ayato cut the restraints binding your wrists and carries you bridal style to the plush bedding further in his chambers. He set you down like a delicate flower and began to strip. You try your best to cover yourself, but the numbness in your limbs protested. “Exposing yourself so shamefully in front of the commissioner, how errant.” He teases. Ayato finally springs his cock free, sticky with precum and desire. His veins meet the underside of his shaft and angry red tip, begging to be buried inside you. He steadies over you, placing a breathtaking kiss to trailing soft pecks and bites along your ear. It was stirring you up all over again, and you wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kisses. “Wan’ you.” You mumble between breaths.  

“Do you? Beg for it.” You suddenly get shy, unable to find the words. “Tell me exactly what you want, my little bunny.” 

“I want... I want you to ruin me. I need it bad Ayato please.” For some reason, verbalizing what you wanted was much more embarrassing, and he felt your reluctance. “This shouldn’t be too hard for you, right? What did you think about when you touched yourself to me?” His directness makes you cower. “Did I face-fuck you to tears or was I more passionate. Tell me everything.” Your breath hitched. “I want your cock deep inside me and I want you to breed me. I don’t want you to hold back, do whatever you want to me please.” This answer seems to satisfy him. 

“Good girl.” 

Ayato positions you into a mating press and in one motion shoves himself balls deep in your sex. His breath is ragged, and the feeling of your walls sucking and clenching around him perfectly drove him over the edge. He begins driving himself in and out of you from base to tip, squelching and slapping from his balls against your ass echoed throughout the room. His veins dragging along your most sensitive spots combined with the tuft of hair that made contact with your clit after each thrust make you dizzy. You're drowning in his scent and your heart is drumming in your chest. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” His words come out shaky. “My little bunny. You’re mine. Say it.” His thrusts get needier and rougher, and his whimpers turn to breathy whining. The coil tightening in your stomach threatened to snap at any minute, but you held on for permission. 

“I'm yours, Ayato. Please-”  

“Go ahead, cum for me bunny. Cum on my cock.” Stern, almost like a command, he speeds up and begins to rub circles on your abused clit. Your legs shake and you throw your head back along with your eyes. You came on him with a scream, violently clenching and pulsing around his girth. He doesn’t stop and fucks you through your high as he is approaching his. “Where do you want my cum?” Everything in you clung to him tightly, and so you begged for him to do it inside. 

“Fuck- you’re such a good slut. All for me.” He finally reaches his climax, stuffing you to the hilt and spurting into you. Thick, hot cum fills you from the inside as he whimpers throughout it, feeling his cock twitch at times. He stays there for a while, making sure you were properly full. Making sure he owned you. You were so exhausted you ended up dozing off with him still inside. 

You wake up to a sleeping Ayato, eyes lingering on the scratches littering his back. You were cleaned up, minus the dark bite marks dotted around your torso. The early morning sun reflected on him like an angel, and you wanted nothing more than to stay with him. Recollecting the hot daze on his face from the previous night, surely there wouldn’t be any harm in continuing this arrangement. 

[reiderwriter]

Four In Some Velvet Morning

Chapter Two of I Can't Help Myself

Summary: Civility in the office is equal to pettiness in all things, but when you help Spencer out in a sticky situation, it's all your mind can think about well into the early hours in the morning.

Warnings: Uncomfortable situation with a student (non-reciprocated), suggestive touching, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, soft dom! Spencer.

A/N: The second part is finally here!! I hope you enjoy the various office shenanigans of Spencer and our reader. Based on the results of our last chapter, I've made a taglist, which you can access through the link below! Have fun reading, and be sure to let me know what you think in the comments~♡

Masterlist || Add yourself to the taglist~♡

You loved Mondays, or you did love Mondays when they meant only a single teaching hour and a free office to catch up on however much work you'd put off the week before.

But, like everything in your life now, Mondays were ruined by Doctor Spencer Reid.

When you and your coffee arrived at 8:45 on Monday morning, he was right there. You heaved out a sigh of frustration, and he didn't respond, so you sank into an hours worth of annoyed sighs and silence.

“Hmmph,” you huffed, standing from your desk and making your bookshelves. Still ordered alphabetically, and topically, you tried your best to look for the reference guide you'd been annotating all semester. But with no helpful guide to which topics it was that he'd used, you found yourself turning around to address your silent, unwanted companion.

“Spencer, my reference book, where is it?”

You stared blankly at him for a few minutes as you watched him trace a finger down the page he was reading. Delicately, he turned the page and resumed reading the next one, stroking the page like it was a lover in a tender moment, his fingers trailing down to offer his intimacy.

“Spencer?” You said again, and he again ignored you.

“Spencer, there's no way you're reading that fast, cut the crap and answer my question.”

“I can read 20,000 words per minute. Thus, I am busy. And weren't you ignoring me?” You took a deep breath and counted to ten in your head before replying.

“I thought we were being civil, Spencer.”

“I am being civil. I'm very civil. Are you being civil, Ms. Y/N?”

“Doctor,” you spat out. “I may have only one to your three, but I did work hard for it.”

He stopped reading and looked up at you, noting the angry look on your face. Standing up quickly, he checked his watch, grabbed his bag and jacket, making sure to carefully slide the book he was molesting into his bag, and walked straight for the door.

“Spencer!” You said indignantly, and he turned back to you with a sarcastic smile, pulling the book you were searching for off the bookcase and throwing it in your direction, before stalking out of the room.

“Jackass!” You shouted behind him as he sent a wave over his shoulder.

Civility. Well, if that was his idea of civility, you could be just as civil. And you'd start by taking all of the books off of the bookshelves once again.

When three hours had elapsed and Spencer had concluded the day's work, he was disappointed to find the office empty. He didn't dwell on the feeling for long, though, as he flipped the light switch to utter chaos.

You'd pretty much gutted the entire shelf, leaving pretty piles stacked all across his desk, chair, and the floor surrounding it, making it near impossible to make his way to his desk without moving something.

The shelves weren't totally empty, though. You'd left roughly thirty books on the centre shelf, held in place by paper weights he recognised as his own acting as bookends.

A post-it was stuck to the first book.

“Ignore this,” you'd written, a lipstick kiss pressed into the paper as your only form of signature. For plausible deniability, of course. You'd never sign your name to a crime.

He sighed and lifted a hand to start taking some books down when he spotted it.

“D…o…n….t…,” he would've gotten further but for the grin spreading across his face as he read the first letter on each book spine. You'd spelt out five words, and he felt a vague sense of satisfaction knowing you'd spent so much time just trying to mess with him.

“DONT TOUCH MY SHIT, JACKASS,” you'd written. But he was absolutely going to touch your shit.

Much to his chagrin, you didn't return to the office that day, too busy with other duties to need to go back. You also wanted to give him a wide berth, hoping that he'd have time to simmer instead of immediately retaliate for all the shit you'd pulled that morning.

Which was why Spencer found himself at work at 6 a.m., getting an early start so he could see your reaction to his, honestly quite tame reply.

You'd acted like a toddler throwing toys out of your pram for no reason. And while he wasn't exactly acting mature himself, he could at least liken himself to a young child throwing the toys back in frustration.

Everything about sharing this office with you was going to be frustrating.

He opened his book again - War and Peace - and began reading through it as he waited for the sun to rise and you to arrive with it.

It was well worth it to catch the look on your face.

“Jackass,” you muttered under your breath as you walked in, coffees and pastries in hand.

He'd put the majority of the books back on the shelf in his order and system. But he'd also left out a large pile of books, blocking the narrow passage between your desk and the wall. It was taller than you and hardly stable, and since you did not want to get concussed on a Tuesday morning, there was no other route to your desk but squeezing behind his.

You huffed out a sigh, dropping what you'd hoped would be truce coffee and breakfast on his desk before standing to push past him. He blocked your way with his arm as he finished up reading a chapter.

“Password?” He asked, not looking up from his desk.

“Very funny, let me pass.”

“Incorrect,” he smiled, nodding towards the shelf where you'd left yesterday's message.

“Seriously?” You asked. His answering look supplied the answer you needed - try me.

“Don't touch my shit, jackass,” you said in a sarcastic tone, trying once again to push past. His damn arm was still too solid, and he pushed you back once again.

“I'm sorry, Y/N, but that was yesterday's password. You'll have to try again.”

Squinting down at him in confusion, you did your best not to dump his coffee over the top of his head as he nodded to the shelf again.

Your writing was still there, but one shelf down there was a new message.

“BUT… ILO…I LOVE… TOU-” You froze, your entire body going hot as you walked back over to him. He was taking a sip of his coffee, as you desperately avoided eye contact. You knew you were attractive, but you honestly didn't think that Spencer would be interested in you like that. And flirting like this, so out of the blue?

Something had to be wrong with him.

“Password?” He asked, taking another sip.

“B-But I love touching you,” you stammered out, cheeks aflame.

He somehow coughed and snorted at the same time, shooting out of his chair with wide eyes.

“More-” he coughed. “That's not… There's more.”

Your eyes went wide as saucers as you ran back over to the shelves, reading to what was actually the end of the message.

“But I love touching your shit,” you mumbled, and he didn't bother even raising a hand this time. He let you pass, and you sat in tense silence for the rest of the morning.

You got over the awkwardness soon, though, and began using the shelves to torture each other between classes.

You'd once replaced all three textbooks for his class with Russian language versions, back firing spectacularly as he smiled and began reading from them anyway.

He'd started putting important texts on the very top shelf and hiding the only step on the floor in some classroom or the other. Though he too had quit that when other members of staff grew frustrated at the steps disappearance.

You both kept up with the book messages.

“YOU'RE… TOO…LOUD”

“I DIDNT… DO…ANYTHING”

“YOU BREATHED”

“BOO HOO”

“COFFEE…PLEASE”

“IM NOT…YOUR…ASSISTANT”

“WITH THREE… SUGARS”

“I HOPE…. DIABETES… GETS YOU”

“SO…MATURE”

If you were being honest with yourself, you'd probably have realized that you were having a lot of fun hating Spencer Reid. Which made him a little bit harder to hate.

You wished he'd have been more mature about the whole thing, really, so you could despise him without laughing at his audacity every five minutes.

Thursday was the worst day for both of you. Thankfully, he'd taken your advice and scheduled his office hours around your classes.

What he hadn't taken into account was that on Thursdays, you had several classes on different disciplines and for different degree levels, meaning a truck load of resources you had to either cart around with you all day (impossible) or you'd have to drop into your office regularly to pick up your things.

You'd ended up in the same queue as the myriad of undergrads that were taking his course or just auditing and wanted to pick his brain on his off hours, and it was hell each time.

“God, isn't he just so fine. An 18-year age gap isn't noticeable, right?” One girl whispered to her friend as you turned the corner, books in hand, ready to use them as defence weapons should the need arise. The need to laugh and yell it was too much had you biting your tongue quickly. The man was 10 years older than even you, and even you had to pause at the age difference. These girls were practically children.

“And his hair? I just want to tangle my hair in it and pull him down to my-”

“Girls! Please remember this is a hallway, and your professors are still trying to get some work done.”

To their credit, the two first years did turn crimson in shame, sending each other panicked and dirty looks as they communicated their shared horror.

You stepped up to the small hall window at your office and peeked through the blinds.

Another student was inside with Spencer, and the panicked look on his face meant that his conversation was probably going similarly.

The students in the hall whispered and glanced at you every few seconds, and if you weren't in the biggest rush of your professional career, you'd take the time to ask them if you had something on your face.

Instead, you just tried to knock on the glass and hope Spencer would notice your plea for access.

When Spencer noticed you at the window, his eyes locked with yours, his mouth forming a simple plea as the undergrad inched closer to him.

“Help,” he mouthed.

You shrugged in reply, wondering what would possibly be so bad that he'd need your help of all things.

It was then that you noticed the undergrad had reached out a hand to play with the buttons of his jacket, stroking her hand along his chest as he cringed backwards.

You watched him take her hands off him, but she was tenacious, or just a downright creep, and she grabbed his thigh this time, pressing her chest forward. You couldn't see it yourself, but you knew from his reaction and instantly turned head that she was dangerously close to flashing him.

Or she was just doing it.

His eyes pleaded for help again, and you barged into the room with a large cough.

“Doctor Reid, if I could have a moment of your time? It's urgent.”

You dumped the books on your desk, and he jumped up to greet you, stepping out of the young students' grasp and almost shielding himself behind where you stood.

“Of course, yes, Y/N. It is urgent, so I'm sure the students will... be understanding."

He turned back to the student and gestured helpfully to show her the door, but her angry gaze was stuck on yours.

“Old ass skank,” you heard her whisper under her breath. From the hand on your arm and the furrowing of his brow you knew Spencer had as well.

“I'm sorry, what was that, Miss….?”

“Hmm? I'm sure I didn't say anything, Doctor Y/L/N.”

“You-” Spencer began but you silenced him with a hand on his chest.

Her gaze flicked to it, and she grew redder in the face, as if she were truly angry at this development. Interesting.

“Spencer,” you span around, totally ignoring the student now, wrapping your arms up and around his neck. He blinked in confusion once and then twice and hesitated, but let his hands land on your waist.

“It really is so urgent that we speak. Alone. I wouldn't want your precious students hearing anything I have to say to you.” You leaned in closer for the last words, letting your voice flow like honey, neatly seductive as you did your best to remind the student of her place.

Which was as far from a professor's bed as possible.

“She's just leaving, Y/N,” he whispered, equally as breathy as you, if not more. He didn't bother a glance over your shoulder to check, though, keeping his eyes on you as if you were a tiger preparing to pounce on him at any second.

The student grabbed her things and huffed out the door. As soon as the thing was shut, you pulled the blinds totally shut and detangled yourself from Spencer completely, giving yourself a wide berth after bringing yourself so close.

You hadn't realized how long and pretty his eyelashes were until you forced yourself to look at him, how nice his eyes were. The image of them burned into your brain - jealousy, probably. Men always had the best natural eyelashes. It was incredibly unfair.

“What the fuck was that?” You whispered, trying to contain your laugh as you knew the walls here were anything but soundproof.

“Shh,” he hissed, his ear pressed to the door as he listened to the remaining undergrads outside start talking. They obviously hadn't got the memo.

“Is this an official FBI strategy?” You teased.

“Shut up, would you? They're talking about us.”

You found yourself all of a sudden pressed against the door next to him, trying to listen in on the conversation outside.

“So it's true? He's really screwing her?” You slapped a hand over your mouth, both from shock and to stop the hysterical laugh bubbling up in your chest from jumping out. The girl sounded distraught. She sounded absolutely heartbroken. "The coffees every morning were suspicious, and they're always in the office so wrapped up with each other, but I didn't think they were seriously screwing."

“No wonder she was giving us dirty looks earlier,” the other girl whispered back.

“I heard he got her the job here. Pulled some strings, you know. And then, when it didn't look so suspicious, he started and asked for the shared office.”

“Gross! Total nepo hire!”

“No, Tiff, Nepo is when your parents get you the job. What she's doing is just called being a whore.”

Your mouth grew dry, and you pushed back off the wall, suddenly uninterested in anything else the girls had to say.

“Y/N…” Spencer took a sympathetic step your way, offering you an awkward smile as you started busying yourself organizing books.

“Nothing I haven't heard before, Spencer, don't bother,” you said, throwing some papers into your briefcase and keeping your hands moving.

“Though I will say they're getting more creative with their back stories since I have been working here half a year longer than you.”

He watched you work around the office, picking up items and tidying them away as you made a line of tidiness through the chaos of your desk.

“Do you think they all think that?” You asked, curiosity somehow piqued.

“That I got you the job?”

“That we’re screwing,” you said, finally turning to face him.

But the movement was a mistake - you hadn't heard him step closer, so as you turned his face was directly in front of yours, his nose practically touching your own as he looked down at you. It was enough so that the sharp intake of breath you took smelt like him, like he'd wrapped himself around your body and kept you there.

“Do you think they think we're screwing?” He asked, meaning to move away, or at least give you the space for you to do so.

“It doesn't matter to me what other people think,” you smiled up at him. “Because I wouldn't touch you with a tensed foot pole.”

You're thinking about the comment well into the evening, right until the moment your head hits the pillow.

You're thinking about the way his eyes dropped to your lips when you said those words, how he stepped closer and closer until you were backed up against the door.

“You were fine touching me earlier, Y/N. What is it now that makes it unappealing?” He whispered into your ear.

A hand came to your waist as your breath hitched.

“Is it the goosebumps I leave on your skin?” His hand pressed harder as it rose up to your chest. You gasped as he took one of your breasts in his hand, fondling it.

“Is it the way your heart beats uncomfortably hard when I'm close?”

His hand dropped again, falling down the plains of your stomach until he was stroking along the top of your pants, begging for entry.

“Or is it the way I make your cunt wet? It must be so hard pretending to hate me when you want my fingers stuffed inside of you.”

You gasped, but your tongue suddenly didn't work, as he slipped past your pants and his fingers were suddenly on your underwear, grinding the pads of his fingers against your slick pussy.

“You dont have to answer, I think I can tell just from feeling this. Shit, Y/N, I could probably slip into you right now with no resistance,” his fingers pushed inside of you as you gripped his arm for support. It was stronger than you expected, rigid as he tensed his arm.

You let him use your body, aware of your soft sighs and moans as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

His hands were inside you, then they pulled out, and somewhere in between his fingers and his cock filling you, you'd been pressed against the bookshelf, facing it and grabbing at the shelves for stability as he made good on his promise and pushed right into you without a care in the world.

“Spenc-Spencer, the books-”

“You know the books aren't a problem, Y/N,” he groaned into your ear as he pumped deep inside of you.

But the books were a problem, and they fell to the floor with each rough thrust, vibrating as they landed.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buz-

Your eyes shot open the next day, and you jolted out of your slumber, a pillow between your legs as you tried to find your release squirming and humping against it. You reached out for your vibration phone alarm, switching it off quickly to avoid the memory of those falling books from your fast fading dream.

Spencer hadn't touched you in that office. He'd taken your comment at face value and let you leave for your class, but it had stuck in your head.

You'd spent the entire night thinking about his hands on you, and you were entirely uncomfortable with the conclusion you were drawing.

Because now, you supposed, you'd quite enjoy the idea of Spencer Reid touching you wherever he damn well pleased.

🔖@stillhere197 @understandingsunrise

[coralinnii]

When they accidentally kabe-don you feat: Epel, Jamil, Jack, Deuce genre: fluff, budding romance notes: reader is written as Yuu, not gender specific, no pronouns used,

when he’s hiding from Vil

Epel just needs a break now and again. The skincare routine, intonation and vocabulary training, posture correction, calories check…everything is little too much for today. 

He honestly just wanted a rest in the courtyard before Vil figured out he’s skipping out on his lessons. Which is how you found the lavender-haired freshman laying behind the bushes. 

“So, how long are you planning on hiding?” You asked him with a cheeky grin Epel doesn’t appreciate

“When I’m good and ready” or caught. Epel whispered those last words under his breath as he guessed that Vil had already noticed his absence and was looking for him or had ordered Rook to bring him back. 

“Monsieur Cherry Apple~” Speak of the devil

Epel cursed as he heard the hunter’s call and in hurried desperation, pulled you down with him as he rolled into the bushes. He didn’t realized how he pinned you down as he peered out through the gaps of the leaves trying to see if Pomefiore’s vice housewarden was out of sight. 

He only realized his position when he heard a shaky tone whisper his name. 

He looked down to see you looking at him, surprised and flustered. He felt a rush of adrenaline as he assessed his situation. His arms and legs caged you underneath him, and the low height of the bushes forced him on his elbows and knees to avoid peaking out from the foliage, so your bodies were so close that he swore he could feel your heartbeat (which he noticed were quite fast) on his own. 

He’s been trying for so long to make the first move on you but now that he had you so close to him, he’s blanking on his next move. He’s wondering what would Leona do in this situation? Heck, what would Vil do? 

Epel was so nervous that he didn’t notice your own mental battle as you decided what you should do. You were fidgeting with your hands whether you should push Epel away or if you should pull him by his cute little bowtie. Finally you decided to shoot your shot, reaching out to touch the lapels of Epel’s school jacket, gently pulling the flustered freshman towards you. 

Taking the hint, Epel started to lower himself as he watched your expression for any last minute second thoughts or discomfort. You showed none. 

Too bad that’s as far as he got as reality smacked him in the face with a burst of light shining through a sudden gap of the leaves being pushed away. 

“Beaute! A beautiful embrace between two young lovers, intertwined like vines of the foliage that hides their rendezvous from the eyes of their peers.” 

Rook’s sudden intrusion forced the two of you back to your senses as you and Epel scrambled out from each other’s arms, looking away in embarrassment. 

Perhaps because Rook senses the awkwardness, Rook reached for Epel and pulled him to walk with him towards the Mirror Chambers to head back to the Pomefiore dorm. 

“I sincerely apologize, young freshman. But, our esteemed Housewarden is awaiting our presence as to begin your daily lessons” 

Epel didn’t grumble or sigh under his breath at that like he usually would. Instead, his thoughts were swirling around the last few minutes with you. He’s stunned and honestly a little giddy over the positive step in his relationship. You reached for him, right? That means you, his crush, want something more with him, right? 

Epel braved a glimpse behind him and noticed you fanning yourself to cool your warm face. He felt his ego swelled at the notion that he made you that way. 

He promised to himself that he’ll be the one to make the first move next time. 

when he saved you during Basketball Club 

Basketball was one of the few aspects of Jami's life that doesn’t revolve around Kalim or his duties as the servant of the Asim family so he assumed that he could have some time away from his responsibilities. Too bad that’s not the case when Floyd, the wishy-washy eel merman and Ace, the scheming slacker are his clubmates. Whenever one or both of them are here, there’s always a possibility of something that is bound to give Jamil a headache. 

Today was a little different however, when Ace decided to invite you to watch the club activities. Regardless how quiet or chaotic you are, Jamil would much rather deal with you than the worrisome Floyd and no, it is not because he finds you charming or attractive in any way. He swears it’s not that…not at all. 

You sat on the side benches, watching and sometimes giving encouraging hollers to your friends, including him which certainly boosts the morale of the club members. Almost unfortunately so as Floyd started getting too into his slam dunks. In his manic glee, the eel merman wanted to see if he could slam the ring hard enough to break it. 

Despite everyone’s pleas not to do so, Floyd went for it and slammed the basketball hard, succeeding in bringing the ring down along with the ball. The rest of the team ran from the hoop as the ball that was still stuck in the net of the hoop bounced towards you, bringing the ring with it. 

With quick reflexes, Jamil dove towards you to push you away from the ball’s path. The Scarabia student covered you as the both of you got on the ground, the basketball safely bouncing away from the two of you. 

Recovering from the fall, Jamil raised his head to survey the damage. It looks like the ball lost its momentum and is now rolling to a stop somewhere far from him. He sighed a breath of exhausted relief and looked down to ask if you’re alright. 

Still a bit shaky, you answered back with affirmation as you loosen the tight grip you just realized you had on Jamil as you must have wrapped your arms around his neck when he reached for you. To be fair, Jamil also just realized he had placed one of his hands behind your head, worried you might hurt yourself when diving to the floor. 

The both of you didn’t say anything else, lost in each other’s presence as you both wondered what’s the best course of action. Jamil is a tactful man but even he can be confused as to what to do. He searched you for a clue as to what you’re thinking. Were you uncomfortable? Scared? Maybe happy? 

“Floyd, this is why we said stop. Now how are we gonna play?” Ace complained to the tall Octavinelle student who responded with a frown

“I wanna see if I can, so I did it. You got a problem with that, Crabby?” Floyd said, showing off a glimpse of his sharp teeth in intimidation “We can talk it over if ya want. Come over here” 

“Nope. No thanks!” Typical Ace, running away after running his mouth but Floyd is unfortunately a chaser. 

Jamil sighed, getting to his feet then helping you onto yours. He weighed in the pros and cons of intervening before deciding to do so, in fear Floyd may break more things if left alone. Before he did, he took a quick glance at you and his keen eyes caught something rather pleasant. 

You were biting your lip.  

when he accidentally bumped into you 

Jack Howl is an honest student. He does his best in school and he makes an effort to not miss a class if he can help it. Except one day, that may not be the case. 

Jack was assisting his senior Ruggie in convincing Leona to attend one of his classes. He already missed too many classes that week and Professor Crewel was scarily serious that the lion beastman attend his class as his grades depend on this particular attendance. Worried, Jack had offered to literally carry Leona to his class which offended Savanaclaw’s Housewarden enough to walk on his own, angrily declaring that no one is going to carry him like some sack of potatoes. 

But now, Jack was almost late to his own class which explained his long steps and quick walking as running in the halls was prohibited. In his haste, he didn’t consider looking ahead as he rounded a corner which ultimately caused his collision with another student. 

Jack was young but he was still a bulky beastman. A collision with him would mostly end badly for the other party which is why with Jack’s build and strength, pushed the other student backwards onto the floor with Jack following suit. Thankfully, Jack managed to catch himself before he reached the floor, softening his landing and using his arms to avoid crushing anyone. 

“Ah, sorry-“ Jack started to apologize before he looked and realized it was you. You were also in a hurry to your class and the last thing you expected was to bump into what you initially thought to be a firm but surprisingly soft wall. 

“I’m sorry, Jack!” You apologized as well with a look of worry. “I should have looked where I was going. Are you ok?” 

But Jack didn’t respond. He was slowly working his feelings whenever he’s near you. He noticed that his tail starts to wag excitedly around you which he curses his obvious joy he feels in your presence. Thankfully you haven’t realized or you weren’t aware what his tail wagging means. 

That may change though as you spoke once more, “Umm Jack. Your tail is tickling me” 

Jack’s ears perked up and he looked behind him and to his horror, he watched his tail whip about, occasionally brushing against your legs that were under Jack’s. The soft fur was tickling your legs which made you reflexively move away but being under Jack meant you accidentally bump into the beastman’s thighs, which definitely made him flinch. 

Mortified, Jack scrambled hastily off you but still offered to pull you up which you accepted. After a quick look to see you’re ok, the white-haired student gave a quick nod before running towards the direction of his class, school rules be damned. 

You were left in the dust but you didn’t try to stop Jack. Especially since you needed to head to your class as well. With that, you turned to walk towards your destination but with a shy but satisfied smile on your lips. Turns out what Ace and Deuce told you about Jack’s tail was true after all. 

when blocking others from you 

It was not a secret that the school cafeteria was filled with delicious meals and treats for the students in NRC. Considering the rich, the powerful, and actual members of royalty were attending here, the school can’t afford to serve anything else but the best and finest lest they want to hear complaints. 

Still, that doesn’t mean there’s enough to go around. The cafeteria works on a first-come, first-serve basis where you gotta be there quick if you want what you want for lunch, especially when there’s something particularly rare on the menu. 

Which is why one day there was a scrambling line of hungry and greedy students who were on the brink of starting a fist fight for a special limited edition sandwich made by the finest and rarest of ingredients. Grim and Ace in particular were hankering for a taste of the supposedly grand sandwich so you, Grim, Ace, and Deuce were quick to get in line for the chance of such a treat. 

The crowd was getting restless. Students were pushing and yelling, agitated over so-called line cutters or people pushing each other to accelerate the pace. You could handle yourself well enough but a push too far from these relentless students could send anyone to the wall at this point. 

And luck would have it, a student was aggressively pushed back which in turn pushed you out from the line and back against a wall near the food line. You groaned over the slight pain coursing your back before seeing the back of another student coming your way. 

Before you could brace yourself, a strong arm came between you and the incoming student, effectively blocking the impact from you. You looked to see Deuce’s body protectively covering you as he placed his other hand against the wall near your head, glaring at the student who came flying towards you. 

“Watch it, buddy” Deuce said, his delinquent side peeking out as he gave the student a nasty warning stare. The student walked away, grumbling how it wasn’t like he wanted to get flung around like that and returned back to the line. 

Ignoring him, Deuce turned to look back at you with worry. “Are you ok?” His voice was nothing like the gruff tone mere seconds ago but instead a sweet voice of concern which had you more flustered than before. Not trusting your voice, you nodded your head. 

But Deuce wasn’t too convinced, he was worried that the slam might cause a bruise on where you landed. He cautiously moved his hand to the side of your head, gently touching you as he tried to feel for something, perhaps a bump or some blood. “You gotta tell me if you’re hurt, ok? A hit like that can do some serious damage” 

As sweet as Deuce was, you couldn’t pay attention to his words right now. Not when he’s caressing your head so softly like that, as though you’re a fragile baby chick in his hands. He was so oblivious to his effects on you that you curse him for his obliviousness but at the same time, you’re relieved he can’t tell how nervous he’s making you. 

“Yo Henchhuman, Deuce!” Grim’s voice called you and Deuce out from your own little world as the cat-like creature ran to you. “We got the yummy sandwich! Let’s hurry and find a seat” 

“What happened to you guys?” Ace questioned with a suspicious quirk of his brow, as he noticed the closeness of you two. 

“Some jerk pushed Prefect into the wall, and then nearly crushed the two of us,” Deuce angrily explained. “Looks like we’re good, though” 

“Well then, if nothing’s wrong then let’s find a spot to eat. I’m starving!” Grim already started walking with Deuce already following to make sure he doesn’t crash into somebody with his small body. You and Ace followed soon behind but yours and his attention were somewhere else. Ace watched you with mischievous curiosity, dying to interrogate you on the details Deuce left out in his story, and you looked anywhere but the red-haired freshman as you already knew what he’s thinking about.

[rainybubbles]

How do you meet COD men ?

Price, Soap, Rudy, Ghost, Gaz, Keegan

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written or if they're OOC. )

P R I C E :

-"I'm going to die," you say to your friend.

-"What ? Why would you die ?"

-"I sent a pregnant Shrek cake to a military base."

-"Why would you do that ?!"

-"This guy ordered a cake for his soldier's birthday, but I also had the order for a prank and...

-"You mixed up the two boxes."

-"Yes."

-"So, actually,....a soldier is opening his box and..."

-"And he will see a pregnant Shrek cake."

-"...It was good to know you when you were alive."

-"You're supposed to reassure me !"

-"Oh sorry. You will die fast, don't worry. It's their job"

-"Fuck you."

-"How was the guy who ordered ?"

-"Like he could crash my head between his arms"

-"Shit."

-"But he was handsome, I guess."

-"Guess your last view will be nice, at least."

-"Shit, how do I even excuse myself for that ? I can't go to the base and say "sorry I sent a Shrek cake, but it was a mistake can you let me in ?"

-"I guess you just say it," a man says.

-You gulp when you recognize the Captain who ordered you the cake.

-"Sir, I'm so sorry, I swear it's not on purpose, I just mixed two orders and..."

-"And you made my boys laugh after a rough mission."

-"oh."

-"So thanks. Of course, it was not what I planned for a birthday, but seeing them happy was nice."

-"You're..welcome, I guess ?"

-He smiles.

-"But don't ever do another pregnant Shrek when I order from you, next time, please."

-"Next time ?"you say surprised.

-"It was delicious, I don't plan to change a good baker," he smiles.

And that's how you gain a regular after offering a pregnant Shrek cake. (even though each time he sees green on your hand, he seems scared when he takes the box.)

S O A P :

- He drew you like Gollum.

- I know, it sounds horrible, let me explain.

- You needed money, and you offered your services as a model for art classes.

- Soap was one of the students.

- During his leaves, he often took art classes to relax.

- And usually it goes well.

- But when he saw you....he thought he could never do justice to your face.

- He felt so self-conscious about his skills that he ended up doing a horrible portrait of you.

- And it could have ended up here, but the teacher decided to show everyone's pieces of art to analyze them

- So you saw Soap's piece where you looked like Gollum.

- And you knew it was from him.

- Everyone has a smile, while he was terrified.

- Usually, he's self-confident, but it's on the battlefield, in his life. The art was the only place where he was not sure he belonged too.

- At the end of the classes, he decided to talk to you.

- "I'm sorry for what happened today, I felt anxious and I ended up doing a bad portrait. It doesn't look like you at all."

- You looked up at him and smiled.

- "Why do you apologize? It was fun to see me like this, plus you need to start somewhere, no? You can't be a fucking Leonardo Da Vinci from the first day."

- He was too stunned to speak.

- "John or Johnny," he said.

- You looked at him confused.

- "Name's John, sorry, it seems you really blew my mind."

- You chuckled. "Nice to meet you, John. Hope next time your mind will be more confused for the next class."

- He nodded.

- Wait, did you say the next class? But it was nude models…

- Hope he won't draw a stick figure this time.

R U D Y

- You were an author.

- Well, it was not your main job since you only sold four books this year, but you considered yourself an author.

- And you had a hater. Someone who left a hateful review on each of your books.

- You knew that the next day after publishing your book, he would leave a bad review.

- So when your boss at the library told you that someone was regularly buying your books, you knew it could only be this hater, since the other person who bought your books was your mom.

- And you had had a bad day. So when your boss told you he was there, you were about to confront this hater.

- Maybe to understand what he didn't like or to know if he was just a coward.

- So you strode towards the spot your boss pointed at.

- "Hey, you," you said, not sure what to add after. When the man raised his head, he looked fit, and you knew you couldn't stand a chance in a fight if he decided to fight.

- "Wait, are you the author Y/N?" Rudy asked, with a sparkle in his eyes.

- Wait... A sparkle?

- "Hm, yeah, it's me," you answered, not sure what was happening.

- "I love your work. Your last book was really amazing. I have followed you since your debut."

- Your mouth was open, because :

1. one, your mom had lied to you when she told you she had bought three copies of your book.

2. And second, you had your first fan in front of you.

- "Thanks," you almost said, tears of joy welling up. "Sorry if I sound harsh. I thought you were that hater."

- "Oh yeah, I saw those reviews on your page. He's always there, but don't worry, I'll leave positive reviews to balance it. I'm Rudy, by the way."

- "Nice to meet you, and thanks for loving my work."

- "No need to thank me. I just appreciate good books."

- "What's your favorite, if I may ask?"

- Rudy smiled, and you both started chatting about books that afternoon. Maybe your reviews would improve after this, not just because of your writing, but also because he found you stunning.

G H O S T :

- Ghost scared people on the battlefield.

- However, the people who were most scared of him were the mechanics on the base.

- Ghost was a horrible driver, and everyone knew that.

- So, each time he went to the mechanics, they knew it was because he had done horrible damage to the cars.

- A game was organized whenever Ghost approached – you played rock, paper, scissors, and the loser had to fix his car.

- However, you were new to the base.

- When you saw this guy standing and waiting, you went to him without realizing all this.

- But when you saw his car, you understood why no one else was coming.

- He had a bowling ball in the trunk, the roof was broken, all the windows were shattered, and one tire was burnt.

- "...did you take this on the battlefield?" you asked.

- "No." He said shortly.

- You blinked. "Then why is it in this condition?"

- "There was a grandma on the road."

- "...so, because of a grandma, you have a bowling ball in your trunk?"

- "Because I swerved to avoid her and ended up hitting a bowling alley."

- "How did you even get a driver's license?"

- "The examiner was too sick to see me again for the ninth time, so he just gave it to me."

- "I guess I'll fix your car, but please don't drive if you don't need to, sir."

- "Sure."

- The next day, he was there again with a hole in the car because of a bird. How ? You didn't know.

-But it seemed you had become his official mechanic without even knowing it.

G A Z :

- When he hears your voice in a café, he recognizes you.

- The problem is, he can't come to you.

- Because if he knows your voice, it's because of your streams.

- Your ASMR streams.

- Being a soldier means your sleep schedule isn't really regular, and to help himself sleep, Gaz discovered ASMR.

- He found out about your streams, then your Patreon, and... let's just say your ASMR is spicy.

- So yes, if he says he's a fan of yours, it implies he has to reveal he listens to that in front of his teammates.

- And he's not ashamed of it.

- But he doesn't want Price to know he likes spicy ASMR, just like he wouldn't want to know what Price's fantasies are, or what Ghost likes in bed.

- (He wants to forget Soap's idea about Ghost in pink lingerie and a thong, and the day Price wore latex pants.)

- It's a line he doesn't want to cross.

- But he's also your biggest fan.

- So he tries to walk near you.

- But you're with a friend.

- And he doesn't know if your friend knows about this.

- So he ends up just glancing at you.

- Shit, how does he approach someone who does +18 things, without saying he knows they do this?

- Maybe if he waves... or just says hello? Or maybe if he asks for a selfie or…

- "Are you trying to imitate Ghost?" Soap asks.

- "What? No. Why do you say that?!" Gaz says, looking away.

- "Because you're staring at this person like they killed your dad and ate your mom, then burned your house and kidnapped your dog."

- "...it was really detailed for a scenario," Gaz says, confused.

- "So?"

- "I just know them, but I don't want to disturb them." Gaz says, trying to lie and tell the truth at the same time.

- If Soap finds out the truth, he'll never hear the end of it.

- "Do you want me to call them?"

- "NO. Absolutely not, don't do this, mate."

- "Why not?"

- Because they'll think you listen to their spicy ASMR audios, he wants to say, but he remains quiet.

- God, he feels like a teenager.

- But suddenly, he sees you walking towards them.

- You sit next to them, and... you wink at him, pointing to his key ring on his bag.

- It's your merch.

- Meaning... you know he's a fan.

- "Thanks for supporting me," you whisper before returning to your friend.

- Gaz doesn't speak until he gets back to base, too embarrassed but also too happy.

K E E G A N :

- You were tired.

- The rush had finally ended. It was now 11 PM, and there was this one client who had just ordered 10 Happy Meals.

- You wanted to slap him. He had ordered at 22:57, and the fast food closed at 23:00.

- So you didn't have a choice but to serve him.

- You looked at your colleague, who was sighing, and you nodded.

- You were preparing the trays, ready to see 10 kids running around and getting everything dirty, but…

- It was only one man with a mask.

- When you saw him, you were ready to raise your hands and give him money. Why the heck would a man with a gun and a mask be at a McDonald's at 23:00 buying 10 Happy Meals?

- But he just took them and ate.

- One after another.

- In silence.

- In five minutes.

- And then he left.

- You looked at your colleague.

- "Guess it's as weird as people who order a burger without buns," your colleague said.

- You nodded and thought it was just the one weird client of the day.

- But every Wednesday, he was there, in silence.

- Maybe he hated Ronald McDonald, so he planned to run out of your stock of Happy Meals?

- Or maybe he collected the toys?

- You didn't know, but he was there.

- And you saw him eating those nuggets and fries without sauce.

- He didn't touch his drinks. My, how dry it must be.

- But one Wednesday you took a day off. So when you came back the next day, you joked with your colleague about the Happy Meal guy.

- But they didn't laugh.

- "Who?" they asked.

- And just like that, you realized that when you weren't there, the Happy Meal guy wasn't there either.

- You were scared.

- Maybe he thought buying Happy Meals seduced you, or it was his way of warning you before he would kill you, like a threat, "You'll end up like those nuggets."

- So, when you saw him enter, you sent your colleague.

- However, your manager decided to give you your break at that moment, meaning it would be only you and him in the place.

- You tried to act normally, but you noticed how he seemed not to like his food yet still ate it.

- You sighed and sat next to him, offering him some sauces.

- "It's better with these. You know, you can have them for free in the menu next time."

- He looked at you and nodded.

- He then tried it and smiled.

- That's when you noticed his dog tags.

- "We have a discount for military personnel, so you could take a real meal instead of a Happy Meal if you want to."

- He looked surprised and nodded.

- Next time, he ordered 2 Happy Meals and two regular menus.

- So you smiled.

- Until his other masked colleagues ordered 20 Happy Meals because they liked the skull toys in them.

- Maybe it was just military men who had a problem with Happy Meals.

If you want more : my COD masterlist

And my masterlist

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Coriolanus Snow knew firsthand the deadly risks of childbirth, considering he watched in horror as a young child when his own mother and baby sister died, but he knew that he needed an heir to carry on the Snow name. When he planned on marrying for hate, well, he could care less what happened to his wife during the delivery.

But, somehow, all his plans and views on marriage changed when he met you. You were hired as his secretary, so you spent a lot of time with him. Coriolanus never planned on falling in love with you, but he did. Hell, he even killed your boyfriend in order to make you single again so you'd be able to go out with him.

And when you accepted his offer of dinner, which came with a single white rose, a few months after the death of your longtime boyfriend, he did everything in his power to make you fall in love with him. Coriolanus was successful, you fell hard and fast for him. He was too charming not to let wiggle into your heart, and into your bed.

The president needed a first lady, so he proposed and married you. But it was a bit scandalous, considering you were his secretary. After a couple of negative articles in the media, well, Coriolanus got rid of the writers and made sure that the studios and printing presses in the Capitol (all of Panem actually) knew that if another foul word was printed about his relationship with his wife then he'd kill every single person in the media office.

Safe to say, only articles praising President Snow and First Lady Snow’s love and glamorous life hit the press after that.

And then, of course, came the subject of children. After discussing it, you stopped taking birth control. And you ended up getting pregnant right away.

Seeing you so round with his child gave Coriolanus joy. Gave him an ego boost because he was the one to plant his seed in you. You were carrying his child. His precious baby.

The baby was no longer looked at as an heir, but as a baby to love.

And it was all because of you.

“Coryo, I have my top list of baby names finished.” You told your husband, who was lounging in bed wearing only a pair of sleep pants.

Coryo watched as you sat across the room, placing his fountain pen back into its holder after writing down the final name on your baby name list.

After discussing it, you both decided to wait until the baby was born to discover the gender. You wanted to be surprised and Coriolanus just wanted you to be happy.

“Are you going to let me see it, my darling?” Your platinum blonde husband asked as you slowly stood up from his corner desk.

Placing a hand on your large belly, you smiled, “Of course I'm going to let you see it.”

Grabbing the list, you slowly walked over to the bed. After getting into bed, you handed the list to your husband. “Tell me what ones you like, Mister President.”

Coryo kissed your cheek and smiled. “Of course, First Lady Snow.”

He read over the list, only to discover that you had more boys' names than girls written down. After giving it some thought, he told you, “Cassian Xandros is perfect for our son. It's a strong name.” Mulling it over, he pointed to a name on the paper and announced, "Cersei sounds nice for a girl.”

“It's not nice, Coryo, it's beautiful.” You countered, pulling the list out of his hands. “Looks like the baby has a name; all we need to do is wait for it to come.”

The day your daughter Cersei Snow was born was the day that your husband decided to hate her.

The day didn't start out with him hating his baby girl.

No, it started with your water breaking and a trip to the hospital. Coriolanus canceled all of his meetings, briefings, and work for the day just to be by your side.

He was very supportive during your labor. Letting you hold his hand during painful contracts, smoothing your hair back away from your sweaty face with a damp rag, and buzzing the nurse multiple times for both ice chips and pain medication for you.

The nurses all gossiped amongst each other about how President Snow was the perfect doting husband and and father to be. That he'd make a very good father.

Little did they know.

Little did anyone know what would happen once the doctor came into the room and announced that it was time to start pushing.

Coriolanus was by your side as you pushed and pushed. With every push he noticed you were getting weaker and it worried him.

Looking between your weak, pale form, and the doctor that was sitting at the bottom of your bed, Coriolanus asked, “Dr. Wellock, my wife's growing weaker. Is there something you can do to get the baby out?”

“There's nothing to be worried about, President Snow. Labor’s a strenuous event; many first time mothers grow fatigue and can push for a while before the baby crowns.” The doctor told your husband, more or less blowing off his concern.

You were exhausted but determined to have your baby. Even tho you were feeling dizzy, you continued to bear down and push every time you were told to.

Then, when you felt that you didn't have any more strength coursing thru your body, you gave birth to your baby.

You saw Dr. Wellock hold up the baby and announce, “It's a girl.” Suddenly, your vision began to get fuzzy as you heard the doctor ask your husband, “President Snow, would you like to cut the cord?”

Coriolanus was about to answer whenever he saw you faint, paired with blood pooling around your legs and staining the bed.

“What's wrong with my wife?!” Coriolanus asked, fear filling him as the doctor quickly cut the baby's cord and tossed her to a waiting nurse. “Dr. Wellock, is my wife dying?!” Coriolanus asked in a panicked scream, while the nurse quickly cleaned the baby and wrapped her into a blanket.

“Your wife's hemorrhaging, President Snow.” Dr. Wellock told your husband, only to point to the nurse and tell her, “Give him the baby and get him out of here.”

So, the nurse dumped the baby in Coriolanus' arms and pushed him out of the door. Before the president could blink, the door was slammed shut I'm his face.

As Dr. Wellock and his nurse worked to staunch your bleeding; save your life, your husband stood outside of your room with your newborn baby girl in his arms.

Coriolanus looked down at the tiny baby wriggling and crying in his hold, only to look at the door of your room and realize that you're dying because of the thing in his arms.

Cersei’s what the two of you decided to name her, when she wasn't a danger. Wasn't the reason you're dying.

Coriolanus felt disgust and hatred for the newborn in his arms. He didn't want to hold her anymore. She was the reason why you're knear death right now.

So, your husband found a nurse to pawn the baby on.

Coriolanus swore to himself that he'd never touch that evil little creature ever again. That he'd never love her.

It didn't matter if you lived or died, he was going to hate your daughter until the day he died.

You didn't die in childbirth, but it was a close call. The doctor explained that you had bad hemorrhaging due to your uterus not contracting correctly after the birthing process, causing uncontrollable bleeding. You were given a blood transfusion, once Dr. Wellock managed to stop the bleeding, due to your blood pressure being too low after such a large blood loss.

You were out of it for days, but you survived.

You were happy to be alive and with your family. Coriolanus and Cersei.

But it didn't take long for you to notice that Coriolanus never picked up your daughter. He never held her, hell, Coryo never seemed too interested in her.

Unless it was for a photo op. Then he turned into the perfect hands on dad that would pose for pictures. But as soon as the cameras stop flashing, the president stops caring about his daughter.

You thought that Coriolanus would get over it; would come to accept your daughter in time. But…sadly…your daughter's first birthday is fastly approaching and your husband still doesn't seem interested in her, unless it's for a photo op.

It saddened you, knowing that Coriolanus was offish to Cersei because she wasn't the son he probably wanted to carry on the Snow name. You loved your daughter and you were sure that your Coryo loved her too, but was just disappointed that she wasn't the strong son he probably had his heart set on.

He did pick out a boy name right off the bat when you handed him your list of baby names last year.

Maybe if Coryo had a son to carry on the Snow name, he'd be happier in his role of fatherhood?

Coriolanus walked into the sunroom only to cringe when he saw you coddling Cersei. The damn little creature nearly murdered you during the birthing process, but you were holding her as she napped on you.

Goodness, there was a portable cradle in the room for a reason.

“She's nearly a year old, you shouldn't be letting her sleep on you like that.” Coriolanus told you, taking a seat at the small tea table. He never even tried to hide the disgust in his voice.

“There's nothing wrong with holding her, Coryo? She's my baby girl.” You responded, causing your husband to just shake his head while reaching for the teapot that was in the middle of the table.

“She's a toddler now, darling. She's not a baby anymore.” Coriolanus scoffed, pouring himself a cup of tea. “Do you want to have afternoon tea with me, or are you going to coddle Cersei all day?” He asked, grabbing a macaron and placing it onto the small plate that was in front of him.

“I'll have tea with you, Coryo.” You thinly smiled, only to rise from your spot on the sofa and place your daughter into her portable crib.

As you made your way over to the table, your husband fixed you a cup of tea and plated you macarons. When you sat down, you decided that now was the time to bring up the subject of having more children.

Little did you know, after your near death experience, Coriolanus got himself snipped. So…it was impossible for you to have any more children.

But he wasn't going to tell you that.

Reaching for your teacup, you told your husband,“Coryo, I think we should have another baby.”

“No.” Was Coriolanus’ quick and cold reply.

“But, we could have a son this time “ You pressed, knowing that your husband wanted a son. Wanted the Snow name to live on.

But you were wrong. Coriolanus didn't want a son to carry on the Snow name, he wanted you alive to be by his side. He loves you to the point of obsessive possession. The love Coriolanus has for you is all consuming, like a plague of locusts devouring an entire field of crops in District 11.

Coryo took a long sip of his tea, only to cut eyes with you over his teacup and firmly say, “I said no, Y/N.” placing his teacup down, he gave you the lame excuse of, “I'm a very busy man, my little dove. Being president takes much of my time away from my fatherly duties; we can only handle raising one child. More than one would be too much for us, considering you refuse a nanny.”

“I told you when I was pregnant with Cersei that I want to raise our kids. I don't want somebody else raising them, no matter how it might be easier considering your role in politics.”

“My role in politics?” Coriolanus chuckled, biting into his macaron. “I'm the President of Panem, that's more than just a role in politics.”

Sipping on your tea, you sighed, “Fine, Cersei’ll be an only child.”

Grabbing your hand in his, Coryo promised, “Our daughter will never want for anything. She'll be showered in a life of luxury.”

That wasn't true. Your daughter grew up wanting her father's love, but she never got it. Coriolanus was always so distant and cold with Cersei.

She hated him, but that was fine with your husband since he hated her right back.

You always thought that your husband resented your daughter for not being a son, for not being able to carrying on the might and noble Snow name.

But that wasn't the case at all.

Coriolanus Snow hated his daughter, Cersei, because you nearly died in childbirth with her. Nothing would every change that. He'd hate her til the day she died.

At least when your daughter died, it was bringing your beautiful granddaughter into the world.

A granddaughter Coryo named Celeste Snow, since your daughter was unwed at the time of her unexpected death.

Your husband was a better grandfather than he was a father. You thought that he might've felt guilty for being so distant and busy during Cersei’s childhood, that he decided to right his wrongs while you raised Celeste.

Little did you know, Coriolanus loved his granddaughter because she killed her mother in the birthing bed.

President Snow was a horrible, heartless man with a soul darker than a black hole. But at least he loved you and loved his granddaughter.

Too bad he hated his only child her entire life.

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops, @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503, @shari-berri, @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch, @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons, @qoopeeya, @mfnqueen1, @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

[jwanniie]

Pairings: Huh Yunjin x Ceo fem reader!

Warnings: Yunjin is a pervert, tit job, subby Yunjin, reader has kinda big boobs, body worship, not proofread, use of straps, mention of pregnancy and breeding, breeding kink, filthy smut, basically porn with plot!!!!

word count: about 1,2 k

request!

꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱꒰꒰⁐

The first time Yunjin met you was in her first ever job interview, and poor girl forgot her whole speech that she was last night trying so hard to memorize. She was a little bit early for the interview so your secretary let her sit in your office, waiting for you on the black leather chair in front of your expensive looking desk. Your name was written on a name tag on the desk.

“Y/n L/n!” Yunjin tasted the name few times, it was a unique and memorable name, not many people having it.

She took a big gulp of the fancy welcome drink, even the free welcome fucking drink was something an average employee wouldn’t afford, but here you are giving them daily for free.It seemed like money was like rice to you.

Yunjin got out of her thoughts when hearing a door getting unlocked, she saw your curves from your silhouette, you stepped in the room before locking the door behind you.

You studied Yunjins features while she just sat there mouth in an o:shape and eyes wide. Your eyes traveled to the drink that was in front of her, on the small table in front of the leather chair and it was almost empty.

“You must have liked the welcome drink!” You said, flashing a sweet sincere smile towards her way before sitting down on your chair.

Yunjin was awestruck, no, flabbergasted. In a good way of course, you were the sexiest woman she has ever saw and in the most beautiful way.

Your aura alone could make anyone fall in love, the type of femme fatale but the sweet version, expensive old money, and the little bit older type of woman.

Your tight skirt complimenting your curves and ass, the first two buttons from your blouse unbuttoned, the valley of your boobs slightly showing while your hair was down your shoulders. And the most gorgeous genuine smile on your face. She had literal heart eyes staring at you, and you noticed.

You damn well know you are good looking, in fact you, yourself think that you are gorgeous and sexy. The vibe of your confidence was being sensed and that also made you even more attractive.

You immediately noticed that Yunjin was slightly out of it, pupils blown and eyes having sparkles while only humming at your question.

“I asked you a question miss Yunjin!” You said timidly, eyes looking at her and as soon as she processed what you said she looked embarrassed.

“Excuse me?” Her voice was low and she looked at you in hopes you could repeat the question.

“I don’t really like to repeat myself miss Yunjin.” You stood from your chair walked towards where she was sitting and sat on the other leather chair that was in front of her chair.

She gulped nervously. Her eyes couldn’t help but to travel to your chest, her mouth watered at the way your elbows were pushing your plushy tits together.

The only thought in her head was to suck on those like a baby, only if she had a dick she swore she would breed you till those tits were spilling milk.

She didn’t notice how you moved towards one of your drawers and took one of your favorite pink glitter straps, and sat again in front of her the strap in your hand.

Her eyes looked at it and you swore her jaw could have went out of place. Her eyes looking at you curiously but there was a hint of excitement. That made you excited to have her bounce this gummy material.

“Come here” you demanded and in her whole life she wasn’t this fast to follow orders, she was in front of you standing looking eyes full of hope and excitement. Arousal was gushing down her panties that you almost could smell it. While she fiddled with her hands.

“Undress me.” You said giving her a smug grin. She looked slightly hesitant of what you said. Rethinking did she heard you correctly but at the end her hand found your blouse buttons.

Buttoning them so fast that she almost ripped them. Her eyes were all over your chest. From the lacy bra straps to your nipples. You wore a sexy black lace bra, just like what she could have imagined someone like you wearing, but oh this was ten times better now that she’s seeing it in real life.

Her hand squeezed your boob without even asking and you couldn’t even deny her, at the end this felt heavenly. She went towards your back and unclasped the bra. The lacy material falling to the ground. Her wet muscle licked your sensitive bud, a shiver running down your spine while she let out a loud moan of satisfaction.

Her hand traveled down to your skirt, sliding it down revealing the lacy black panties that were matching with your bra. Your own wetness slightly damping the leather chair while she was dangerously close to your core, she licked a stripe your wetness, the intoxicating taste filling her taste buds.

“Fuck, you taste so good.” She mumbled, her head falling back. You wore the strap and signaled Yunjin to come. She tossed her clothes somewhere in your office before sinking down on the glittery material.

You held her hips firmly and your touch made her melt, she was all smily and giggly, jumping up and down on the pink strap. Curses falling out of her mouth while loud whimpers found their way from her vocal cords.

It was the hottest sight indeed, she was fucking herself so desperately. She took one of your boobs before trying to make it fit in her mouth, even after knowing that no way that would fit in her mouth. She sucked so hard, that you felt your nipples being sore and your chest was full of red-ish and purple-ish marks. She continued thrusting herself down your length.

The pad of your finger went towards her clit rubbing it roughly, helping her to cum faster. High pitched moans now louder while your other hand gripped her waist to ease her down on the strap.

She felt in cloud nine, anytime soon she would be splashing her juices down your core. Her eyes rolled back deeply every time your strap reached a sensitive toe curling point. Hitting every spot perfectly.

Her hand was grasping your hair harshly, her nails sinking down your scalp.

“I-I’m..c-cumming!” She screamed out before her juices ran down her thighs and the strap, soaking your stomach.

She pounded herself on the material slowly but deeply. Riding out her orgasm.

“I should hire you, you impressed me!” You combed her hair with your free hand while her head was on the crook of your neck.

“But before that, you should show me how good you can do.” You continued and she looked at you all smily while nodding her head fast. Getting off your lap and taking off the strap from you, wearing it herself.

She definitely would be your favorite worker!

[etheries1015]

Did you know that hair-pulling helps blood flow? /idk

Did you know that I’m grinding my thighs for Lilia rough(beeping) us?

Kids stay away from me for at least 5 miles away

Did you know that I really want Lilia to go vampire mode and yank us by our hair while he’s ramming us from behind, our neck exposed from his motion and ~~~ ^0^ (won't detail much since I'm not sure if ur comfortable with Blood)

Lilia X reader - Living out a fantasy

18+ MINORS DNI.

General warnings: Gender neutral reader, hair pulling, biting, rough fucking...I haven't written many "full" smuts so...sorry if its rushed or not particularly good, I'm open to advice and learning new things 💜✨

TW: None? Maybe some mentions of blood tho. Tell me if I missed anything, I'll update this section accordingly.

Lilia yearned for this moment. The moment you fully submitted to him as he had fantasized over and over again, with his filthy thoughts of defiling you flashing in his mind from the very second you placed yourself in his life. From bumping into each other in the halls to seeing you in the cafeteria talking it up with another student, he could feel this burning desire from the deepest parts of him.

Lilia didn't particularly enjoy this part of himself. He felt in a way with his dirty thoughts, he was making you dirty, too. With every moment he zoned out during class to imagine himself taking you against one of the desks, he found himself forcing a smile in front of you and hiding the bulge throbbing in his pants with his coat, almost unable to look you in the eyes. He would later find himself in his bedroom, groaning your name before staring shamelessly down at his hands after his release.

Yet he couldn't help but wonder those times when he spoke to you, was that blush upon your cheeks and glances simply a fragment of his imagination? Perhaps you felt the same, he would notice the way your thighs rubbed together after your eyes locked with his for a certain period. He was either going senile, or you truly had the same viciously naughty thoughts about him.

The Fae soon had his answer.

There you were, his hand full of your hair pushing your head into the pillow as his hips roughly snapped against yours. Slapping filled the air of the room along with your feeble high-pitched cries of pleasure mixed with whines of pain, Lilias hand roughly handling your hair and showing no mercy. The mischievous Fae would often pull out to where only his tip barely remained inside your swollen hole, and In one fast movement, he snapped his hips to meet your ass, which was now bright red and stinging with every new thrust.

"can't," you panted, "can't ..cum anymore...hah.." The sticky residue of cum and sweat pulled apart with every time he would pull back and thrust back inside of you from the previous hour of the sexual act, you felt your body unable to keep yourself up go limp and fall to the mattress while he continued with reckless abandon.

"Not- yet," Lilia groaned, taking the fist full of hair and pulling your head back mercilessly much to your dismay yet also pleasure. You let out a yelp of surprise at the instantaneous action and sharply sucked in air as Lilia removed his hands from your hair in order to forcibly grab you by the hips and lift you back upwards toward his eager body.

"Tsk tsk...you're not done until I say you are, little bat..." The way your hair fell exposed your bare neck, Lilia took the initiative the lean forward taking slower and more impactful thrusts as his tongue outlined his intended target upon your soft and mark-free skin.

"You're doing amazing, precious," He purred into your ear, "You can take more for me, right?" Grinding his hips into yours, Lilia took the slight nod of your head permission to continue. His teeth grazed the crook of your neck, revealing his teeth. Using his sharpened Canines to pierce your skin, you hissed in discomfort, feeling some sort of liquid trickling down your neck before Lilia used his tongue to sensually clean up the blood that drew from the wound he left. The fae pressed a gentle kiss against it, almost as if to apologize. The gesture was left short-lived, Lilia smirking against the skin of your neck, he took another bite before ramming his hips against your own. This time, Lilia grabbed your hands and pulled them back as he abused your tired, sopping-wet hole, groaning as the fae pressed his hips intimately against yours climaxing. Your legs trembled as his cock twitched releasing ropes of creamy white cum inside of you for the nth' time. He pulled out, letting go of your arms and allowing your body to fully succumb to the comfort of the mattress. he watched as his seed trickled out of your puffy hole, a satisfied grin on his lips.

His shit eating grin remained even after you turned to face him with a scowl and eyes of daggers. You were weak, your body covered in bruises and love marks from hours of intimacy, yet it didnt stop you from bonking the top of Lilias head. He only laughed at your feeble attempt to attack him.

"I told you I couldn't cum anymore," you pouted, grabbing a blanket and wrapping your naked body. Lilia hugged you through your new little blanket home, and although you were not looking at him, you could envision the puppy eyes he had.

"But you did so well for me, little bat! Won't you look at me, please?" He pouted, poking at you. You peaked through the blanket with an angry stare, narrowing your eyes at Lilia.

"Are you gonna take care of me now? You made this mess." Lilia smiled brightly at this, excitedly planting a kiss on your now exposed forehead.

"Of course~ I'll go draw you a warm bath and prepare some ointment, do not move a muscle, my dear!" You watched as the fae made his way to the bathroom, hearing running water you smiled to yourself, re playing the events over and over in your head with a light blush and a giddy giggle.

You had to admit, despite the aching of your body and the sticky mess between your legs... You wouldn't mind doing it again, sooner than later.

[countryclubkook]

I’m Your Step Brother

Pairing: stepbro!Rafe x reader

Warnings: smut, this is a lot darker than anything i’ve ever written so if this isn’t your style do not read, dark dom rafe, rafe is an unhinged dick, dub con, rafe is high, reader is implied to be a bit tipsy but not drunk, face slapping, choking, mentions of drugs and alcohol, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), name calling (bitch, slut, whore, cunt, worthless, pathetic), blackmail, reader is a cam girl, masturbation (f receiving), hair pulling, please let me know if i missed any!

Summary: When your step brother lets you stay with him for college for free after your mom and step father kick you out, you’re extremely grateful. But when he finds out about your little side job, he decides you have to start repaying him in a different way

A/N: I know this isn’t Rafe, but this is how I picture my stepbro!Rafe and he’s hot in this so it works. Rafe is 21, reader is 20

It all happened so fast. One minute Rafe was offering you drinks, a ‘special occasion’ he said. Then the next you were stumbling into bed and his hand was wrapped around your throat. He told you how he graciously allowed you to live with him while you finished college when your mom and Ward kicked you out of Tanneyhill. Let you use his wifi, his running water, eat his food, and that you were repaying him for his generosity by whoring yourself out online for cash. His dilated pupils and the white residue on his nose let you know he was high, and he was even more unhinged when he was.

Your whines of protest for him to let go were shut down, the grip on your throat only tightening the more you struggled.

“Keep struggling and my hand will grip this pretty little throat tighter and tighter until you go blue in the face bitch. I’ve seen you wrap your hand around your throat in your little videos, drop the innocence act. It’s fucking boring” he told you, his voice eerily calm at the threat.

You felt your face heat up at the confession that he’d seen your videos. As in plural, more than one video of you fucking yourself in various ways with various items. He snapped you out of your thoughts with a harsh slap to your cheek, the other one receiving the same treatment before he grabbed your face roughly and forced you to look at him.

“Ohh, I know what it is, your messy cunt is usually on full display when you choke yourself. Go ahead and take your shorts off, give your big brother his own private show” you were told only once to do so and when you didn’t immediately follow orders, he slapped you once again with much more force and pulled them off himself. Once they were discarded somewhere in the room, he let out a low whistle when he noticed you had no panties on.

“Damn. I knew you were a dirty slut, but at least pretend that you have some decency left. Or did you want this? Wanted your big brother to come in here and fuck you, I mean with the skanky outfits you wear around the house all the time I wouldn’t be surprised. You’re so fucked up sis” the tears you had been trying to hold back finally started streaming down your face, the small sniffles catching Rafe’s attention.

“God you’re such a pathetic bitch. Crying from my words even though I’ve seen the same things said to you over and over again on your page and your response is always so positive, so eager to be used. ‘Thank you daddy, I'm such a pathetic and needy whore for you. Use my body however you want’ don’t act like you don’t want it now. Your pussy is leaking all over the bed as we speak” his eyes glued to the wet spot you’d made

You let out a loud sob while trying to close your legs, but they were harshly pushed apart again by Rafe. His fingertips digging into your skin hard enough to leave bruises, his eyes staring at your pussy.

“Please, just leave” he didn’t. He stayed right where he was, if anything he got closer.

“Nah, see you’re sitting here crying and begging me to leave, but the way you’re fucking soaking the sheets right now and the amount of times your eyes have glanced at my cock makes it hard to believe you don’t want me here. Now take those pretty hands and start rubbing your needy clit for me” a few seconds went by and your hands remained still by your sides.

“Now! God you’re such a dumb cunt. Bet if I pulled out a few singles and threw them at you, you’d be bringing yourself to an orgasm right about now” his hand grabbed yours and brought it against your clit, watching as you slowly started circling it with your fingers.

You let out a small whimper, this was so fucking wrong but god it felt so good. Trying your best to go slow in hopes of making him satisfied enough to leave was a lot easier said than done, his lustful gaze burning holes into you wasn’t helping at all. Neither were his abs being on full display or the very obvious outline of his large cock in his sweatpants. ‘He’s your step brother’ you reminded yourself over and over again, but here you were rubbing your clit in front of him.

“Stick two fingers inside yourself and start pounding that pretty pussy, I know you’re wet enough” his statement brought a new wave of shame over you. You shouldn’t want to be doing this, shouldn’t be enjoying it at all which only caused more tears to fall down your face.

“You know” he took in a deep breath, agitation all over his face “i’m getting really fucking sick of this crying bullshit. I’ll do it myself”

He collected some of the wetness before sliding his middle and ring fingers inside your dripping hole, curling them up and hitting the perfect spot inside you. You threw your head back onto the pillow and tried to hide your loud moans so he didn’t hear, but of course he heard.

“I’m your step brother you twisted slut, why are you so wet right now huh?” he slapped your cheek when he got no response again and raised his voice “Huh? Answer me you fucking whore!”

You tried to stammer out an answer, but no words came out. Just broken whimpers and moans as his fingers picked up their tempo. Suddenly he stopped, pulling his hand away and walking so he was beside your head. He pulled his sweatpants off, his cock springing out, and placed it on your lips.

“Suck” your eyes went wide as you shook your head no.

His jaw clenched before a dark smirk appeared, his fingers sliding back into you and pounding your tight hole harshly. Your mouth opened wide due to the loud moan you let out which caused Rafe to take advantage and slide his cock all the way down your throat. A low groan escaping his lips at the way you gagged around him and clenched around his fingers. Your hips started bucking into his hand, your moans sending vibrations around his cock as you got closer to coming.

“Your step brother is fucking your face! Did you hear me? Your step brother is fucking your face and the only thing your slutty little bitch brain can think about is coming. Fucking pathetic” Rafe spoke as he harshly grabbed your hair and held you against him, his cock all the way in the back of your throat as you gagged and tried gasping for air.

“I know you want it, can fucking feel you squeezing my fingers so damn tight. make a mess on your big brother's fingers. Go on. Do it do it do it. Fucking whore!” your eyes rolled back into your head as your body convulsed, your orgasm completely taking over. You could feel the liquid gushing all over the place and knew you had just made a giant mess, and only because it was Rafe.

He pulled his cock out of your mouth when you finally came down from your high and stroked himself until thick ropes of cum coated your face. It was a filthy sight, you had drool running down your chin, mascara smudged, cum dripping down your face, and your hair was a mess. That’s when Rafe decided to grab your phone and take a photo. You looked up at him confused and slightly alarmed as to why the hell he just did that.

“Oh, don’t worry,” his hand moved to stroke your hair before gripping it harshly and pulling you up so his lips were right by your ear.

“I’m just letting all those sick fucks know that my baby sister isn’t available to whore around anymore, I own you and your pussy now. You are nothing without me bitch” but you knew there was another reason.

Blackmail.

He had you right where he wanted you, he was holding something over you that could ruin your life for good. Get you kicked out of college and become an outcast in OBX. All you had to do in order for none of that to happen was exactly what he said, when he said it, no matter what it was.

That included taking his cock in the back of your throat like the good little two-bit whore you are.

You were tossed back onto the bed and watched Rafe pull his sweats back on before walking to your bedroom door to leave. He turned around to look at you once more and left you with a few parting words.

“You should probably shower, make yourself look presentable again. I’ll let you know when dinners done you worthless slut.” he stepped out before turning around again.

“Oh! Just remember what I said you know, about owning your holes and what not. You really are nothing if you don’t have me, so don’t be a bitch about this or tell anyone yeah?” he winked at you and walked to the kitchen to begin dinner, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Your brain going back and forth between knowing it was wrong, Rafe was literally your step brother, and wondering what the fuck just happened and why you shamefully wanted it to happen again?

[hyypnotix-writes]

Straight. Straight straight straight.

~ I really don’t know what this is. I couldn’t sleep and so, here we are. I’ve never written anything other than essays for uni before so ..this could go down like a lead balloon! we’ll see, lemme know! :) ~

~ it’s like ..10k words? because I really couldn’t sleep. so, it’s a long one ..if you have nothing else to do! ~

~ I don’t think it needs any content warnings, but please tell me if there should be! there’s some swearing, if that’s off putting to you.. ~

~ it takes a tiny while for A to show up, and she’s never explicitly named..but she is there, it is her ~

~ I’m talking myself out of posting, but this is too long to scrap now, sorry ~

~ good luck! good bye xx ~

________________

The club is a disgusting little place to be. Buried right in the centre of town, with drinks so extortionately expensive, they make even the cost of your London’s monthly rent, look a little reasonable. The music blares inside your head, the strobe lighting messes with your vision, and the smell of horny sweaty bodies is an assault on the nostrils. It’s your least favourite place on earth to be.

It’s somewhere you’d managed to avoid being, for all of your early twenties. You’ve had no reason to go to a club late at night. Not when you’ve had a boyfriend for the past 5 years to go home to. That dirty little desire to get drunk, and hookup with an attractive stranger, took a nice long hibernation.

For you.

Turns out, your ever-loving, ever-caring, fuckwit of an ex-boyfriend, still managed to find the time to go to clubs, and hookup with strangers in between spending nights with you. You really thought he was out working till the early hours of the morning, busy making a living for your future together? What an idiot you were.

So, you’re back in a nightclub, at the behest of some of your single friends, for the first time in over half a decade, borderline drunk out of your mind.

It’s still a comfortable level of tipsiness at the moment, you’d argue, despite stumbling a little on your way back towards the bar. You can easily identify the song that’s being blasted, you’ve been able to order more drinks independently without being refused service. Your inhibitions are long gone, but you’re still able to think clearly, and you’re ready to find someone to go home with.

Your friends are all dotted around the room getting off with men of varying levels of attractiveness. None of them have impressed you so far, you’re not so desperate for company that you’re willing to let your own standards drop tonight. You’re happy to wait for the best-looking man in the room. Looking around the room to scope the talent on offer, however, maybe you do need to lower your standards a little bit.

You approach the bar again, and order a shot of tequila for yourself. A friendly little liquid that’s had previous success with you, for getting you to sleep with just about anything.

“¡Dos, por favor!” Comes a call from behind you, from a woman you do not know. It’s rather ballsy of her, almost rude, but she holds out her card to pay, before you can get too irritated with her request.

“Gracias.” You offer, using your exceptional detective skills to work out the woman’s nationality.

“¿Hablas español?” She checks, as she leans next to you, and you wag a dismissive, drunken finger in front of her face as you shake your head.

“Sorry to disappoint,” you tell her, “only English. GCSE level German.”

She smirks, watching you, and you narrow your eyes at her, tapping the bar as you await your drink.

You’re handed your shot, with a lime wedge and some salt, and you nod in thanks, to the woman who bought it for you. You don’t wait for her to go first, you’re in a bit of a rush here. All the men in the room are getting uglier by the second, you need to act fast, before you see the light too clearly.

You lick your hand and pour on the salt, the woman watching you closely as you do. She doesn’t go through the motions at all for her own drink, she focuses solely on you, gently biting at her bottom lip.

You lick the salt, down the shot, and she holds the lime wedge in between her fingers for you to bite. You don’t question it. Not until you sink your teeth into the lime, your eyes meet over it, and time stand still.

She has very beautiful eyes. A mysterious looking hazel. They flicker over you as you suck the citrus juice, and you can see the crinkles in the corners of them as she smiles at you. It’s weirdly intimate, unnervingly so.

You pull away, wiping the juice from your chin as you point to her own glass for her to follow suit. You find yourself watching her as she does the same routine, but you don’t hold out the fruit for her, the way she did for you. It was a strange custom, one that’s already playing on a loop in your head.

“Can I get you another?” She offers, and you find yourself torn.

You’re not here for a woman, you’ve never been with one. You’ve kissed your girlfriends once or twice when you were younger, mainly as a gross way of attracting boys. It’s not something you thought too deeply about, it wasn’t exactly a lightbulb moment for you. There was never any secret yearning for any of your friends afterwards. You’re straight. Straight straight straight.

The woman’s eyes seem to pierce through your soul, as she waits for your answer, like she can see something in you that you can’t. It draws you in, but you hold yourself back.

“I’m straight.” You tell her, and she smirks at you again.

“Congratulations! I didn’t ask,” she points out, “but thanks for letting me know.”

You frown a little as she turns her attention back to the bartender and orders two more shots for the pair of you. She doesn’t seem put off by your sexuality claim at all. It’s almost like she doesn’t believe you, and you’re not too sure you appreciate her cockiness about it.

In fairness, maybe you’re the one being cocky. She doesn’t have a badge on her saying she’s a lesbian, there’s no rainbow floating above her head. She’s not a stereotypical lesbian, not in the way that your little sister is. Maybe she’s just being friendly, and you’re projecting, because you’re drunk and full of yourself.

“Sorry,” you start, leaning into her so she can hear you above the music, and she pushes the shot towards you, “I just thought ..maybe you were coming on to me.”

“That’s very wishful thinking from you.” She says simply, turning her head slightly to face you. She’s exceptionally close, and your eyes instantly trail to her lips. Time’s stood still again.

She has nice lips, very nice lips. They’d probably taste very nice..

You have to pull yourself away.

“Gracias.” You say again, gesturing to the glass in front of you with a frown. You reach for the salt, but before you can lick your hand, she raises it to her own mouth to wet it for you. You really don’t know what to make of her. It’s very gross, it’s very rude ..it’s very sexy.

There’s a confidence in her, that has you questioning things. The warmth of her tongue sends goosebumps right up your arm. Which, she can undoubtedly see, as you don’t have long sleeves and she’s smirking at you again. You don’t appreciate her smug little attitude. Anyone would have a physical reaction to being licked by a stranger, she has no business being arrogant about it.

You must have been stuck in place for too long, as she pours the salt onto your hand on your behalf too.

You don’t like being outdone. If she wants to play it cocky, you can match her for it. You grab the lime wedge and indicate for her to open her mouth. It catches her a little off guard, which you feel a sense of pride in, but she doesn’t back down from your challenge. She welcomes your newfound confidence, with that same little smirk from before.

You place the lime, skin-side back, in between her teeth and you lick the salt from your hand with unwavering eye contact. You down the shot, and you pull her in carefully by her neck.

Your lips brush against hers, ever so slightly, as you bite the lime between her teeth and remove it in your own. It’s a deliberate move from you, maybe you’re feeling messy tonight. You watch as she raises her fingers to her lips, and you wipe the juice again with the back of your hand. You give her a nod with another little ‘gracias’, before heading away from the bar without looking back at her.

You’re stuck on a carousel of men once you return to the centre of the club. They are all admittedly, far better looking than they were before your little trip to get drinks, but there’s still no one drawing your eye. None of them like that cocky little woman at the bar.

She wasn’t really little, she’s quite tall, actually. Had a couple inches on you, that’s for sure, and you’re not short. She was impressively tall, she had nice posture. She didn’t slouch or look uncomfortable. She was just tall, and beautiful, with that endearing little smirk on her pretty little fa— what are you doing?

You need to find yourself a man, and quick.

You’ve trapped yourself between another one and a wall, only a few minutes later, and it feels like a mistake. His hands are on your hips, his mouth is dangerously close to yours, and frankly, no amount of alcohol could make you genuinely attracted to him.

“You’re really sexy.” He slurs, his hand grazing up your body.

No, next.

It doesn’t take long to find another, his arm wrapped round your waist as he shares his drink with you. He’s cute, you’re fairly certain. He does have a moustache, which isn’t your usual cup of tea. It’s like a little caterpillar resting above his top lip, twitching as he talks to you. He drowns it slightly as he has more of his drink, and it makes you cringe as he licks at it.

It’d probably tickle if he kissed you, or leave you with a rash, the hairy little ferret on his lip.

Do you know who didn’t have a moustache? Who you wouldn’t have to work out, how not to throw up in their face, as there’s no risk of their facial hair ever getting stuck in your mouth as you kiss?

Mhmm.

Straight straight straight.

You slide out from his embrace, twirling him around to go after some other poor soul and you return to the bar.

It’s disappointing to realise she’s no longer there, not that she should be waiting around for you. She’s probably found someone less rude to spend her time with, someone more gay.

Look at the state of you, traipsing back to a bar in search of woman you don’t know because she looked at you for a second too long and now you can’t shake her from your head. How embarrassing. You’re straight. Straight straight straight.

You make your way through to the ladies’ room to splash some water on your face, and come to your senses. Of course, that’s where she’s hiding. With some new company of her own.

That shouldn’t hurt you. You don’t even know this woman’s name. You know nothing about her at all except that she’s tall, beautiful and has soft lips. Lips that are now on another woman and you’re incensed. You have no right to be angry about it, and yet, here you are.

You bash at the head of the tap, rather aggressively. Sometimes taps in nightclub restrooms don’t work, it probably needed a firm touch. It has nothing to do with you wanting to distract the woman, no no no. Because you’re straight. Straight straight straight.

You don’t need the attention of another woman, that would be ridiculous. That wouldn’t be very straight of you at all.

It doesn’t seem like your loud and theatrical washing of your hands has done anything to disturb the kiss to the side of you.

And good! You wouldn’t want to do that.

So, when you bump into them to reach for some hand towels, that’s just an accident. The fact that the tall, beautiful, soft-lipped, Spanish woman’s eyes flick to you as you dry your hands, is just an unfortunate side effect of your clumsiness.

The fact that it doesn’t stop her from kissing the other woman, however, is outrageous. Her watching you, as she’s busy with someone else? How disgusting.

Your heart shouldn’t be racing at the sight of her, your breath shouldn’t be as shallow at is, and it definitely shouldn’t be catching in your throat as the other woman kisses down her neck, and she’s still only looking at you. This isn’t attractive. This isn’t turning you on. You don’t wish it was you on her neck. There’s that infamous smirk on her face again as she stares at you. She’s unbelievable.

You throw your towels in the bin with an almighty clang as you let the lid drop back down, finally putting the other woman off her stride, and you make a swift exit back into the club.

The music’s too loud again, the smell is suffocating, all of the men are gross by comparison to the woman stuck in your head. It’s been an unsuccessful night and you’re ready to go home alone.

The hand that grabs you, has other ideas.

“You said you were straight!” She reminds you, as she pulls you outside with her.

“I am!” You tell her, still annoyed with her little antics.

“You followed me to the toilet?”

“I didn’t know you were in there!” You point out, even more annoyed with her cocky little attitude.

“You’re angry.” She tells you, smirking. “Didn’t like me kissing someone else?”

“I don’t care who you kiss!”

“No?”

“No!”

There’s a palpable tension between you both. It doesn’t make sense. You don’t know this woman. She doesn’t know you. It doesn’t matter that she kissed someone else. You were trying to kiss someone else only a minute before.

Why you’re so enraged by a woman who’s bought you two shots, getting with another woman after you walked away from her, is a question for future you. You’re not about to have an existential crisis in front of her. Questioning your identity in your mid-twenties, is absurd. You’re straight. Straight straight straight.

There’s a curiousness, to her decisions, actually. To follow you, when she already had company. To drag you outside, to where no one else is. She’s very confident about you being interested, but she’s not exactly being apathetic herself.

“Why did you leave her?” You ask.

“What?”

“You followed me,” you point out, furrowing your brow, “had a pretty girl draping herself all over you, and you left her to follow me. Why?”

You’ve clearly touched a nerve; her smirk has vanished. You can see her tongue pushing against the inside of her mouth. She’s annoyed with you.

She slowly runs her tongue under her teeth, before wetting her bottom lip with it while rolling her eyes. She doesn’t miss how your breath hitches watching her. Her smirk is back, and she moves closer to you.

“Maybe I’ll go back to her.” She threatens, and your jaw clenches slightly.

“Maybe you should!” You tell her, taking steps backwards as she approaches.

“Do you want me to?”

You collide into the wall behind you, and she places her hands on it by your head.

“No.” You confess, breathlessly.

“You said you were straight.” She repeats, her face mere inches from yours as she leans into you.

You swallow down, your pulse picking up speed.

“I am.” You insist, your eyes locking onto her mouth. “I..”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No.”

“What do you want me to do?” She questions knowingly, that all too familiar smirk, taking over her face. She tilts her head, impossibly close to yours. You can smell the lime that lingers on her lips, feel her breath that softly blows against you, but she still doesn’t let you have what you want.

“Are you going to make me beg for it?” You groan, leaning backwards into the wall as far as you can.

“Maybe.” She tells you.

You hate her holding all the cards like this. She has you like putty in her hands. She’s all cocky and in control. Who does she think she is?

You’re better than this. You’re not shy around people you fancy. You may have been caught in a pointless relationship for far too long, but you’re a catch, people are into you. This woman right here, is into you. You don’t need to be nervous with her, it doesn’t mean anything. You’re straight. Straight straight straight. It could be the worst kiss of your life, and why should you care?

You slink your arm up behind her neck, closing the distance between you even further, and her eyelids flutter shut.

“I’m not going to.” You inform her, emboldened by her reaction to you. You duck out from under her arms, blowing her a kiss as you walk back inside. To find a man to take you home. You’re straight. Straight straight straight.

It doesn’t take you long at all to find another man to wear around you. One with glasses on. No, he’s not attractive. No, you don’t want to go home with him. But he’s here, he’s a man, and he isn’t driving you quite as crazy as the woman you keep running into. It’s simple, it’s easy, it’s hassle free. It’s exactly what you came for, you’re ready to go.

________________

Waking up in unfamiliar sheets, is something you haven’t done in a while. You’re quietly proud of yourself. The sheets smell nice, your hangover headache isn’t half as bad as you thought it would be, and there’s a pleasurable little ache between your legs that tells you that, whatever happened last night, you more than enjoyed yourself.

You wriggle a little under the covers and take a peek to confirm that you are indeed, completely naked. Your eyes are allowed to trail the body next to you. You’ve had sex with it, you’re more than entitled.

You really don’t remember which man it was you left with. There was the one with the glasses, the tall one with the mullet, the man with the moustache, the unfortunate gentleman with the incorrectly placed toupee.

He’s probably the one you’d most be upset about seeing next to you. Not that he didn’t seem friendly enough, but he really wasn’t the attractive stranger you were hunting for.

You risk another quick peek under the covers and your eyes all but bug out of your head. No no nonononono. You pull the covers back down and shut your eyes, trying to remember what the hell went wrong. You had countless semi-attractive men all over you. How the hell?

You peek again. Maybe you’re seeing things. Your hungover little brain playing tricks on you.

No.

That’s definitely not a man’s body. It’s far too beautiful. It’s toned, smooth, sculpted by the gods themselves. You want to put your tongue on it. You probably already have had your tongue on it. Who knows what you’ve done to it, what it’s done to you. How the hell did you go home with a woman?

“Are you enjoying the view?” The voice outside of the covers asks, and you roll yourself over under the sheets away from her.

You’d recognise that accent anywhere. That cocky little tone to her voice. That insufferable Spanish woman from the bar. That tall, beautiful, soft-lipped, Spanish walking-headache, took you home, and had her way with you? You? When you’re straight? Straight straight straight.

The ache in between your legs, the dull satisfaction running through your body, and you have her to thank for it?

It’s a dream. It’s a nightmare. It’s a horrible, twisted little trick, that, if you keep your eyes closed to, maybe it will all disappear around you and you’ll wake up again next to a man. A gross, sweaty little man, with too much hair on his face and not enough on the top of his head.

There’s a snicker from outside of the covers and you let out a huff, as she taps at your body.

“What?” You grumble, making no effort to free yourself from the sheets you’ve cocooned yourself in.

You can feel her shimmy herself closer to you and you hold your hand behind you to stop her.

“No!” You tell her, quite firmly, as her torso connects with your fingertips. Her toned torso. Her taut, muscly torso that your fingers have somehow now spread out over. You can feel her breathing against your palm. She hasn’t edged any closer to you after your outburst, and you regret telling her off so soon.

You’d quite like her pressed up against you, if that’s what she wants to do. Maybe you were too hasty, too rude. You can still feel the shortness of her breath against your hand. You’re being inappropriate, touching her like this. You slowly remove your hand from her, still hovering it pretty close.

You reach back for her arm, trailing your fingers down it until you meet with her hand, and you pull it around you. You’re not entirely sure what’s possessing you, you just want to feel her on your skin. She doesn’t need much encouragement to nestle into you, and it’s definitely not a man’s body.

You tangle your fingers with hers over your stomach, leaning into her. She has nice hands. Hands that are quite a bit bigger than yours, it’s no wonder you have an ache.

She removes the covers from over your head, instantly placing her lips to your neck. It’s very easy to forget yourself with her mouth on you, it’s no real surprise she managed to trick you into coming back to hers at all. She frees her fingers from yours, moving her hand down your body, and you put up no resistance to her. You encourage it, if anything, moving yourself to make it easier.

It’s nothing like having a man between your legs. There’s no needless grunting above you, no mindless grabbing, or endless showboating. You don’t need to make excessive noises to boost her ego. She just really knows what she’s doing with her fingers. She has every right to be cocky with herself.

Maybe this is just what it is to be with a woman. Maybe they just know, it’s the same parts, after all. Maybe it’s an inherent knowledge that all women possess, but only a select few ever get to experience. Lucky them.

Lucky you.

You are still being quite loud with her inside of you. It’s not for her benefit, it just really feels very good. You grip at her head behind you, running your fingers down the back of her neck, and you bite at your other hand to mute your sound effects, to stop giving her quite so much satisfaction with herself. You can see that smug little smirk on her face, it’s impossible to know if it’s still annoying or just incredibly sexy. It’s a very thin line with this woman.

It’s hard to keep still with her going to work on you the way she is. You find yourself rolling back over into her and she welcomes you, easily capturing your lips with hers. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

They are very nice lips, they do taste nice, and it’s not the first time you’ve kissed them.

Memories of the night come flooding back in.

________________

“I can take you back to mine?” The man wearing glasses offers.

“Perfect!” You reply, all too eager to get out of this frustrating little situation you’ve found yourself in. He places his cup on the nearest table, and winks at you, before leading you to the door.

Again, the hand that grabs you, has other ideas.

“You’re not leaving with him!” She tells you in no uncertain terms, as she holds you firmly in place.

“You can’t tell me what to do! Who the hell do you think you are?” She doesn’t give in, and as you turn to find the man, he’s already wandered off without you. “Are you joking? What’s your problem?”

You’re absolutely furious with the woman, she has no right to ruin your plans like this. You shake her off of you and head back to the bar, but she shadows you closely.

“You can fuck right off, following me about!”

“You’re really very angry.” She tells you, rather amused at your attitude. “Why, because I didn’t let you leave with some gross man?”

“He was cute!”

“He was about 50!”

That can’t be right.

He had glasses on, sure, but so do lots of people in their twenties. He had ..greying hair. Slightly less common, perhaps, but he had been cute.

Hadn’t he?

“Fuck!”

You rub your fingers over your forehead, trying to erase him from your mind, as the woman continues smirking at you.

“You can wipe that smug look off your face, right now!” You warn her and she chuckles to herself.

“Do you want another drink?”

“..Please.”

You down another round of shots together, being inappropriate with the salt and limes again. There’s an incredible amount of confidence in you. Whether it’s your new disdain for this woman, the fact that you’re unlikely to be going home with someone you’ll be happy waking up next to, or just the alcohol flooding your system, who can tell, but it’s a confidence that you’re more than willing to embrace.

You order another round of drinks and lick her collarbone ready to pour the salt on to. Her eyebrow quirks at you, but she doesn’t stop you doing it. She readies the lime in her mouth, as you down the tequila, and she pierces it with her teeth for you, dripping the juice into your mouth from hers up above.

It’s a very weird mating call from her, and it’s 100% effective. You grab her hand and lead her back to the hallway between the toilets. You bury your head in her neck as the moustache walks past you both, and you open the door to the smoking area to see if anyone’s about. No one is, so you pull her outside with you.

“Why are we back here?” She asks, that smug smile still tattooed on her lips.

“I feel more sober in fresh air.”

“Mm? You’re very drunk.”

“You’re very drunk!”

“Maybe, but at least I’m not on a ridiculous hunt for a man!”

“It’s not ridiculous, it’s meticulous!” You tell her, giggling slightly at your accidental rhyme. “I’m looking for a very specific man, preferably a good looking one, in his twenties.”

“Really? You didn’t seem too worried, that a man in his twenties was actually a man in his fifties!” She points out.

“Mm. I don’t know that I’m particularly worried about a man in his twenties ..being a woman in her twenties either.” You tell her with a rather casual shrug as you head to one of the tables. You sit yourself up on it, looking back at the woman who gives you a knowing little smile.

“You’re not very straight, are you?” She asks sarcastically.

“I really am.” You sigh, rolling your eyes. “I’ve never been with a woman, never wanted to be. I’ve only just got out of a long-term relationship with a man. I’ve only ever wanted to be with men.”

“Mm?” She mumbles, moving over to you slowly. She carefully pushes your knees apart and stands in between them, looking down at you. “I’m not a man.” She reminds you, and you trap your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Maybe I don’t want you.”

“Mm?” She places a curved finger under your chin, tilting your head and bringing your mouths very close together. “Tell me you don’t.”

There’s a feeling in your stomach at her challenge, a feeling lower than your stomach at her challenge. You do want her, and you’re not a good enough liar to pretend that you don’t.

“I can’t..” You admit, and she smiles again, before removing herself from you. You let out a frustrated little sigh as she moves backwards, and you swing your legs back together. “You want me too!” You tell her and she tilts her head to the side.

“Who told you that?”

“Tell me you don’t.”

“..I can’t.” She admits, and maybe her cocky little smirk has found its way onto your face.

You jump down from the tabletop and lean back against it, nibbling at the inside of your mouth. She casually walks back over to you, resting her hand on your hip.

It’s far less offensive than gentleman number 6’s grazing of your body. You don’t feel the need to push her away at all. She leans back into you, tucking your hair behind your ear. It sends a little tingle right down the side of your neck, and she smirks again at your reaction. You can’t not roll your eyes at her incessant need to be arrogant. She rubs her thumb across your cheek and over your mouth, pulling down on your lower lip gently.

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“Yes ..what?” She asks, and she’s ruined the moment. You shake your head at her chuckling lightly.

“If you don’t want to kiss me, it’s fine, we don’t have to. I’m not going to beg you for it.” You tilt your head, brushing her nose with yours. “Do you want to kiss me?” She nods silently, and you wink at her. “Looks like we’re both missing out then!”

You slip out from between her and the table and make your way over to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To find a man to take me home! I’m straight!”

You can hear her cocky little laugh as you head back into the club, and it sends a little thrill right through your body.

This bizarre game of cat and mouse continues between you both for a little while longer. You keep buying each other shots, drinking them in more obscene ways every time. You back each other into walls, threatening to kiss each other, before one of you walks away, and the whole process repeats itself.

It’s getting harder to compose yourself after each round of shots. You really do just want her to kiss you, you’ve had enough of fighting it, but you also don’t want her to have the satisfaction of you caving in. It’s a ruthless little battle that you’ve found yourself in. She’s incredibly competitive.

You have to commit. Genuinely find yourself a man. It shouldn’t be hard. There’s lots of them about, and you’re more drunk now than you’ve been all night. You’re embarrassingly easy prey.

You survey your surroundings, hoping for one decent looking man to catch your eye. It’s a truly talentless night. You find yourself grimacing slightly realising that all of your friends have already left the place. Some of them will definitely regret their choices in the morning.

As will you, if you don’t manage to get at least one kiss from this godforsaken woman.

“Looking for me?” She asks as she sidles on next to you, leaning against the wall.

“I’m looking for a man! I’ve already told you this.”

“Well ..there’s one there.” She tells you, gesturing to a random fellow in the corner. “There’s another there.” She points out. “There. There. The—”

“I get it, thanks. You have terrible taste in men.”

“I don’t have any taste in men.” She reminds you. “I have pretty impeccable taste in women.”

“Mm? Well, which one takes your fancy?” You ask. “There’s one over there. There ..there. Th—”

She grabs your pointed finger and turns it back towards you. It’s not a new answer, so god knows why you’re blushing at it.

“Then kiss me.” You tell her, little louder than a whisper. “Just kiss me, for fuc—”

She’s clearly had enough too. Maybe it was the tiredness in your voice, the obvious look of defeat in your eyes. Maybe she just doesn’t like you swearing. You’re not going to question it. Her lips are finally on yours, and she was definitely worth the wait. It ignites a spark in you, it sends your tipsy little mind fully into orbit, and she’s the only other person in the room with you.

There’s no sense of desperation in the kiss. It’s not messy, or chaotic. It’s deliberate from her, considered. There’s an air of caution perhaps, a worry that you’ll pull away from her. You’re straight, after all. Maybe she’s nervous that your certainty in wanting a kiss will waver now that she’s finally given you what you want. Maybe you’ve realised that you don’t actually want it.

It’s a new experience for you, surprisingly different from kissing a man, but it’s not one you want to pull away from. It’s not one you want to rush. It’s not one you really want to end at all. You can sense her apprehension, and it’s the first time that she’s had no snark. It’s not a cocky little kiss. She’s not doing it to get it over and done with. It’s not going to end with her smirking at you, like she’s done you a favour. It isn’t meaningless.

It’s tentative, and frankly, you’ve had enough of her carefulness. If she needs a sign that you’re not going anywhere, that you want her to keep kissing you, you’ll find a way to do that. Your tongue parts her lips, and the gasp you elicit is all the confirmation you need of her nerves. It’s endearing to have her be quite so vulnerable with you.

You deepening the kiss is clearly all the confirmation she needs that everything’s fair game, because she wastes no time in escalating the intensity. She clings to you, wrapping her arm around your waist, her hand gripping at your hip, the other cradling your jaw. She backs you up against the wall and muffles the moan that escapes you with your joined lips.

Her tongue dances with yours, and you let her take over all your senses. It’s just a kiss, and yet it’s like a journey to a whole new world. It’s entirely all-consuming, the rest of existence has melted to nothingness around you. You don’t care where you are, you don’t care who’s watching. Or do you?

Maybe there is a mild sense of urgency to it, because kissing is simply not enough. You need to have her closer, impossibly close. You need her, entirely, and regardless of how much you’re craving the feeling of her, you do still care about where that happens.

“Are you local?” You ask, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. She only gives a silent nod in reply. “I’m like ..20 minutes by taxi?”

“My hotel’s closer than that.”

“So ..back to yours?”

“Are you sure?” She asks, searching your eyes for any sense of reluctance. She’s unlikely to find any, but you nod, assertively, just to reaffirm. “I’m not taking you back to mine to ..play cards?” She double-checks with you and you chuckle, resting your forehead to hers.

“No, I’m sort of counting on that.” You tell her. “Unless you don’t wa—”

She cuts you off with a kiss again. There was no swearing this time, no tiredness or look of defeat. Maybe she just likes kissing you.

“Are you absolutely sure?” She asks again, because she’s polite, and underneath all her cocky annoyingness, she really is very sweet.

“Oh my god.” You sigh. You do still find yourself rolling your eyes, you don’t know how much more obvious you need to be with her. “..please.”

The rush back to her hotel room is fun, you feel like a teenager all over again. Waltzing through the streets of London, your hand interlaced with an attractive stranger’s, the promise of sex hanging in the air.

It doesn’t matter that it’s a woman you’re linked up with. That doesn’t mean anything. It’s a one-time little indulgence. An experiment, for research purposes. To find out what it is your sister’s been going so crazy over, ever since she was a teenager.

It doesn’t mean anything when she keeps kissing you against the walls of closed buildings. It doesn’t mean anything when you pull her back into you at the entrance of her hotel. Yes, it’s nice. It’s enjoyable. It steals the air right from your lungs every single time, but that doesn’t mean anything. How could it, when you’re straight? Straight straight straight.

You do keep your hands off each other when you get to the lift of the hotel, there’s an older woman in there with you, and you’re not about to put on a show for her. Not for free.

Maybe your eyes keep meeting too much, or the smirking is too obvious. Maybe you do keep touching once or twice, because something’s definitely giving you both away.

“Lesbians?” The older woman asks, with a very clear disdain.

“Hm? For tonight.” You reply with a nod, unperturbed by her demeanour. Your Spanish host shakes her head at you, smiling as she looks up at the ceiling.

You’ve dealt with a few homophobes in your time. Your sister isn’t exactly subtle with her identity. It welcomes dirty looks, offensive words, and you’ve never been one to shy away from protecting her. You’ve never had to defend yourself against prejudice, but she’s not exactly an intimidating woman. You could easily take her if she tries to raise her hand.

“It’s disgusting.” She mutters under her breath, and her unsupportive attitude is sort of spurring you on.

“Do you think?” You ask. “What’s so disgusting about it?”

“Two women. It’s a waste.”

“Oof. I am not about to let her go to waste, don’t you worry about that at all, madam.” You reassure her, offering a friendly smile that earns you a very angry look in reply.

You don’t miss the smirk that graces the taller woman’s face next to you in the mirror, and that’s all the encouragement you need.

“It’s not natural!” The older woman tells you, and you nod your head slowly back at her. “It’s disgusting!”

“You’re very annoyed about it.” You point out. “It’s a bit unnecessary, no?”

“I think you’re both disgusting!” She hisses at you again.

“Oh dear.” You lean back against the bar of the elevator, as the older woman stares you down. “That’s an incredible argument you’ve put forward. I think I’ve seen the light!”

She not at all impressed by your relaxed sarcasm, you’re clearly getting on her nerves. Your lack of remorse, the fact you’re not begging for her forgiveness.

“I think it—”

“You think it’s disgusting, madam. We get it.” You interrupt, a little bit tired of her insistence. “Don’t spend your evening with another woman, then. We’re not inviting you to join us, so you can calm down.” You tell her, moving back towards the Spanish woman behind you.

She wraps her arm around your waist instantly and you lean into her touch. It’s comforting, subtle. It’s a very casual display of support without silencing you, without fighting over you.

She’s not dramatically shouting at the other woman; she’s not emasculated by you doing all the talking. She’s not making empty threats or getting up in the other woman’s face.

She’s not reacting at all in the way you’ve come to expect. The way that he probably would, to someone questioning him. Not that your ex ever defended your sister’s honour with you, but he certainly enjoyed getting into a scrap when he felt threatened.

It’s very attractive from her, actually, to just silently remind you that she’s there if you need her. That she’s with you, she does have your back, and you’d kiss her right there on the mouth if the woman opposite wasn’t glaring at you quite so intently.

Maybe you should kiss her regardless. There’s only a few more floors left till the old bat gets off. What’s she going to do, slap you both for some pda? There’s a security camera in here, she wouldn’t be so stupid.

Perhaps you can control yourself for a couple more floors, you don’t need to provoke the bastard woman. So what if she’s an unfavourable little witch, she’s not ruining your evening, you’re not going to let her.

Well, if that’s your logic, why should you let her stop you from kissing the woman when you want to? What courtesy do you owe to her? If she’s that upset about it, she’ll have to either avert her eyes like a petulant little child, or stop off at the floor below and hope she doesn’t choke on her bigotry when walking the rest of the way up. You don’t care.

Thankfully, neither does the Spanish beauty who matches your energy and kisses you back with the same fervour you’re showing her.

You’re instantly entirely unbothered by the third wheel once there’s an extra tongue back in your mouth, her Spanish hands on your face. You don’t care at all how uncomfortable you’re making the old bint. Frankly, you hope her eyes are burning at the sight of you both.

She doesn’t let you enjoy your moment for too long. Of course she doesn’t, the dark-sided little mare. She barges past you both as the doors open and she spits at the floor in front of you. The absolute nerve. She expectorates in the lift inside of a nice hotel, and you’re the disgusting ones? Absolutely not. You’re seeing red. You really could take her, you’ve been to a gym more than once or twice in your life, you’re not weak.

“You revolting little bi—”

The hand that grabs you, has other ideas.

“Let her go!” She tells you, laughing as she spins you back round to face her. “Por favor, she’s not worth it!”

“She spat at us! That dirty little cu—”

She kisses you again. Maybe she really does hate your swearing. Her lips are distracting, though, and you don’t mind learning that that’s one surefire way to get them back on yours.

“She really was a hateful bitch.” You murmur between kisses, and the Spaniard giggles against you.

“You’re a very angry straight girl.” She tells you, pushing your hair back off your face. “You don’t like homophobes?”

“Do you?” You ask, frowning at the woman in front of you.

“No,” she admits with a chuckle, “I’d have probably just let her get on with it quietly, though. Didn’t feel the need to anger her more!”

“I’m sorry for embarrassing you.”

“You didn’t, I’d have backed you if she kept going.”

There’s that sexy little smirk again. It shouldn’t do things to you the way it does. It shouldn’t set your whole body on fire. A small curve to her lips, and you want to rip her clothes off? You’re very tragic.

You drag your eyes away from her and scan the floor number you’re on.

“Bloody hell!” You sigh. “Did you really have to book a room on the highest bloody floor? I get it, you’re rich ..but fuck me!”

You drum out your frustrations on the handrail of the lift, it’s slow ascent through the floors seemingly never-ending.

“Are you sobering up?” She asks, and you nod at her, still tapping your hands. “Are you changing your mind?”

You stop your little percussive performance and turn back to face her.

“You’re very convinced that I’m going to back out?”

“I just want you to know that you can.”

It’s genuine from her. It’s not a perverse attempt at guilt tripping, she’s not trying some weird technique of reverse psychology. She genuinely wants you to know that it’s okay if you’re not ready. If your own act of confidence, is exactly that, just an act.

You take her hand and pull her back towards you. She rests her hands on the rail behind you and you lean in very close.

“Do you want me to?” You ask, and she shakes her head. You tilt her face to meet her eyes and you kiss the corner of her mouth. “Well, okay then, and neither do I.” You tell her quietly, your lips feathering hers. “So know, that until I revoke it, you have my consent ..to do whatever.”

“Careful,” she warns, “I might take you up on that.”

It earns you a deep kiss, and another cheeky smirk. There’s exhilaration shooting through your body and this goddamn endless journey through the sky is entirely unbearable.

“It’s very cute, that your hotel is so close to the bar, but it really would’ve been quicker to just go back to mine!” You point out, patting at her hands behind you.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t me that booked it.”

That’s very cryptic. What on earth is that supposed to mean?

“Please don’t tell me your girlfriend’s waiting for you in there.” You tell her, narrowing your eyes as you await an explanation.

“No, it’s a ..business trip.”

That’s still very cryptic.

“A business trip? What do you do for a living?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“No?” You chuckle, arching an eyebrow. “Are you a spy?”

She laughs back at you, shaking her head. “No,” she assures you, “but it’s too personal.”

“Too personal? We’re not allowed to know each other’s careers?”

She shakes her head, and you find yourself smiling slightly with narrowed eyes. It’s very intriguing. If she wants you to be less interested in her, that wasn’t the way to play it.

“So, I’m guessing, I’m also not allowed to even know your name?” You check.

“A.”

“A?” You chuckle, nodding your head. “That’s a very beautiful name!” You tell her, your hand resting on her chest as you push her away from you. “There’s no way your parents were that lazy!”

“It’s my initial.” She tells you, rolling her eyes with that classic little smirk, as she pulls you back with her across to the other side of the elevator. “My first name starts with A.”

“And that’s all you’re giving me?” You ask, resting your hands on the railing behind her as she nods her head. “You really don’t want me to find you after tonight?” You question her, with your tongue tracing the bottom of your teeth. “Haven’t even been with me yet, and you already know you won’t want a repeat?”

She dips her head to kiss you again, and your hands grip at the bar behind her. You pull yourself in towards her, desperate to be closer, and she cradles your head in her hand.

“It’s not that,” she tells you gently, “but I go home tomorrow.”

Shit. That shouldn’t be so surprising to you. She has a thick Spanish accent, she’s staying in a luxury hotel, paid for by a company on her behalf. Of course she isn’t staying in London for very long. What happened to your exceptional detective skills? How did you not work that one out?

“Fuck.” Is all that falls out of your mouth as you pull yourself back from the woman.

“I’m sorry..” she offers, but you shake your head with a heavy sigh.

“No, I should have realised.” You tell her, nibbling at the inside of your mouth.

It’s a bummer, certainly. There’s something between you both. Whether it’s just a physical attraction, a sexual desire, who knows? But it’s there. You can feel it, and you’re positive that she can too. It doesn’t have to be anything deeper than that. That would mean you really did need to do some introspective work on yourself moving forward.

She’s just a woman. The one woman. The world’s most beautiful woman, who’s turned your world upside down, in a matter of hours. Who bought you a drink, that left you confused. That kissed another woman, and left you annoyed. Who refused to let you leave with a random ancient bastard and has saved you from spending a fundamentally flawed night with a limp-dicked disappointment.

And tomorrow she’ll be gone. You only have tonight with her.

You can walk, she’s already told you that. You can turn around now, and not let yourself fall any deeper. Save yourself the pain of a perfect night that you’ll never be able to repeat. Save yourself from spending the rest of your life chasing an experience you can never recreate with someone else.

It’d be hard enough to find her in London. It’ll be impossible to track her down in Spain.

Leave her now, with just the mind-numbing kisses to haunt you for all eternity. Don’t give your soul to a woman you’ll never see again. Don’t let her steal your heart away with her. Don’t ruin a life of enjoying mediocre sex for yourself.

The elevator rings out, signalling your arrival at her floor and you stay rooted to the spot as she slowly makes her exit. She looks back at you, a sad smile replacing her arrogant one.

“I understand.” She tells you, as she disappears down the hall.

You don’t understand. You don’t understand at all why your body feels so drawn to this woman. Why your mind, your heart, your soul are so desperate for you to chase after her. It can only spell trouble for you. One kiss with her sent your head spinning. Anything more than that will undoubtedly result in irreparable damage. How do you recover from that? How do you move on? How do you let yourself make any other meaningful connections with someone after feeling so intoxicated by a woman you know absolutely nothing about?

It isn’t possible for you to feel this way. It doesn’t make any sense. Even if you weren’t straight. Straight straight straight. How the hell can you fall for someone, when you don’t even have the luxury of knowing her first name? You don’t know what she does, you don’t know who she is. She could be an evil mastermind. A dark-sided villain who does terrible things, all the way over in Spain.

Don’t follow her. It’s foolish. It’ll be the worst mistake of your life. A night you can’t take back. An act you can’t undo.

The doors start to close in front of you, and you wedge your foot in between to stop them. You’re an idiot. A damn blasted fool.

But how could you not go after her? How can you not chase after the rush she sends through you? It’s dangerous, it’s messy, but you want her. Even though it’s just for a night. You can’t walk away from a feeling this strong. A yearning so powerful every cell in your body is screaming out for it.

She’s annoying. Frustrating. Beautiful. Enticing. There’s something, and you can’t very well just turn around and walk the other way.

You follow her into the hallway of her floor, and she turns back to face you.

“I thoug—”

“I didn’t revoke.” You tell her, shaking your head as you walk towards her. “I didn’t come up all this way to play cards, and I certainly didn’t come up all this way to go straight back bloody down again!”

She chuckles at you, shaking her head.

“And tomorrow?”

“We’ll deal with that then.” You tell her. “If it’s only meant to be one incredible night, then so be it.”

“You think it’ll be incredible?” She asks, the smirk tugging at her lips.

“With you? ..yes.”

The smirk morphs into a full smile. One that reaches her eyes. One that transforms her whole beautiful face into the most breathtaking radiance as she beams back down at you.

“And what if it’s awful?” She chuckles.

“Then I’ll be packing your bags for you to go in the morning.”

She takes a step to close the distance between you and pulls you in for a slow deep kiss.

“Are you absolutely su—”

“For fuck’s sake!” You whisper, crashing your head to her shoulder to chuckle against her neck. “Yes! I’m sure! I’m very bloody certain, I want you to take me to your room. Yes!”

“Yes ..what?”

She’s incredibly frustrating. Just wilfully annoying. Childish, pathetic, addictive, perfect. She’s everything. She’s absolutely everything.

“Please.”

________________

You don’t hate this woman. She didn’t trick you into bed at all. There’s affection between you, a fondness. It wasn’t a drunken night of angry passion. It was intimate, careful, experimental. Perfect.

You have a desperate need for this woman you’re wrapped up in. A want to have her close, to keep her with you forever. An impossible request. An unattainable, hopeless little prayer.

“You’re leaving today.” You remind her, panting slightly as she calms you from your high.

“I did tell you that.” She whispers, her fingers trailing your stomach.

“I know, I just ..it just hit me.”

You look back to her, and there’s a sadness in her eyes that you can only imagine you’re reflecting back at her with yours. You stroke your thumb over her cheek and lean in for a kiss. It’s soft, impossibly gentle. It’s the most painful way to say goodbye.

“I should go,” you tell her, “my sister will be wondering where I am. Wondering what ..man I hooked up with.” You chuckle a little pulling yourself out of her embrace.

“What will you tell her?”

“He was beautiful.” You admit. “Foreign.. Italian, I think.”

She laughs to the side of you, leaning back over towards you as she shakes her head. She places a kiss on your shoulder, lighting a tiny fire with her mouth.

“I don’t want you to go.” She tells you, placing more kisses to your shoulder, your collarbone, your lips.

You don’t want to go either, not when she’s igniting an inferno inside of your body like this. It’s cruel, it’s sadistic. It’s the perfect way to say goodbye.

“What time’s your flight?” You ask, with a mild desperation to your voice.

“Not till this evening.”

“Do you have to be anywhere else today?”

“Not till this afternoon.”

“So, we still have the rest of the morning?”

“Mhmm.”

“It probably wouldn’t be the worst thing ..if I was late back home.”

“No?”

“Unless you’re kicking me out?”

She has no intention of doing that, as well you know. She straddles herself on top of you, and your heart starts racing again. Her body on full display in front of you. The most beautiful body. She’s in incredible shape. It’d be more intimidating to you, if she hadn’t repeatedly told you how beautiful she thinks you are last night. You’re not in terrible shape yourself, but you definitely felt the need to tense more to give yourself some sort of definition. Her abs are just naturally on full display without any effort from her at all.

“You’re very beautiful.” You tell her, taking her in. “You have very beautiful ..eyes.”

“My eyes are up here.” She tells you, pointedly.

“Mhmm. Very beautiful.” You repeat, ignoring her little biology lesson as you trace your fingers over her curves.

She traps her tongue between her teeth as she smiles down at you, before leaning back in for a bruising kiss.

“You might be my favourite straight girl.” She tells you, and you roll your eyes.

“Might be?” You ask, feigning offence as you push her back up.

“You’re in the top three.” She tells you, smirking.

“Woww.” You draw out sarcastically. “That’s very charitable of you, thanks.”

She chuckles to herself, collapsing back down to run her lips across your chest. She starts trailing lower, and you can tell where she’s heading. She’s already seen to you once this morning, she’s done more than enough. You’d like to repay the favour. Frankly, you could do with a rest.

You grip at her thighs to flip her over, and the smile on her face as you do, has you kicking yourself for not doing it sooner.

“Are you okay?” She asks as your eyes roam over her face.

“Mhmm.” You nod. “I remember ..really enjoying something last night.” You admit, a little cautiously.

“Yeah? I remember you enjoying it too.”

“Did ..did you enjoy it?”

“Mhmm.” She murmurs, and you can feel her body shifting beneath you. “You’re very good with your tongue.”

“Really?” You ask, a little too enthusiastically, as a tiny thrill courses right through you. You have to fight every instinct not to wet your own lips with it as she nods, that small smirk coming back into view. “Did it feel good?”

“Yes.”

“You tasted good.” You breathe, clenching your jaw slightly.

“Are you still claiming to be straight?” She chuckles, her eyebrow arching.

“Mm.” You laugh, collapsing back into her for a kiss. “It’s hanging by a thread.” You admit, smiling into her as her lips move against yours. “Do you want me to?” You ask, a knowing look on your face.

“Yes.” She admits, her back arching as she readjusts herself for you.

“Yes ..what?”

She shakes her head, with a disbelieving smile. Maybe you’re in love with this stranger. Maybe she feels it too.

“..Please.” She whispers, and you don’t need asking twice.

________________

The walk back to the elevator, has no reason being as painful as it is. Even after a morning together between the sheets, a shared shower before a very late breakfast. You’ve still only known this woman a little over 12 hours. You’ve learnt absolutely nothing about her personal life, who she is, why she’s here, whether she’ll ever be back. She knows nothing about you. It isn’t right for there to be a connection between you, when you have no fundamental knowledge of each other. You could have literally nothing in common, and your heart’s tearing itself in two at the thought of her leaving for another country.

Neither of you want to say goodbye to each other. That much is obvious as you tangle your fingers with hers and stare at the button for the lift. Both elevators are on the bottom floor, you’ll still have a few minutes together even if you request it now. You can’t draw an eternity out of a few minutes, but you can savour them. It’s like setting a little timer for you as you press the button. The lift starts its ascension up the floors and the seconds you still have together start to decrease.

“This is insane.” You admit to her, your eyes beginning to sting. “I shouldn’t hate leaving you this much, I don’t even know who you are!”

“I know.” She tells you, with the same shaky breath as you.

She pulls you into her embrace and you cling to the fabric of her sweatshirt for dear life. She’s given you one of her sweatshirts, to stop you looking too dishevelled as you do the walk of shame back home. It’s a bit oversized on you, and she told you you looked adorable when you had to roll the sleeves up a couple times to free your hands.

You sort of wish she’d stop being so sweet to you. Go back to being the annoying woman that had her lips on someone else. Go back to being the weirdly confusing woman with the salt and the limes. Do anything to make saying goodbye to each other just a tiny bit more bearable.

“Imagine if you weren’t straight,” she whispers to the side of your head, “imagine the breakdown you’d be having then!”

She’s an idiot, and it does manage to make you laugh, as warm tears escape your eyes, and you bury your head further into her neck.

She’s not straight, you remember. So, maybe it’s a subtle confession of her own struggle she’s having with you parting ways. She is holding you impossibly tight, like you’ll disappear from right in front of her in a puff of smoke, if she loosens her grip even slightly.

The elevator seems to be soaring through the levels without any people in it. It’s a far more rapid process than it was when it was holding the pair of you hostage last night. That isn’t fair. Who designed that?

“It’s going to be the longest journey of my life going back down without you.” You mumble against her.

“Hopefully you don’t bump into your best friend on the way!”

“For fuck’s sake!” You laugh, pulling yourself from her and wiping at your eyes with your sleeve. “That evil cow!” You let out a sigh and shake your head. “She’ll be fine with me today, to be fair. I’m straight again now!”

“Oh, of course! You can agree with each other about it being disgusting, then!”

“Mm. I mean ..we did do some pretty disgusting things to each other.” You remind her smugly.

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate you giving her all the details.” She winks, and you grin as you pull her back into a hug.

“I really enjoyed it.” You confess to her, quietly. “I really enjoyed being with you.”

“Me too.”

The ding of the elevator signals that your time is up. The moment you’ve been dreading, has finally arrived. You head straight in. You don’t know if it’s better to get a clean break, or prolong the inevitable for as long as possible. The doors start closing, and her foot appears in the gap to keep you for a moment longer.

She fists her hands in her sweatshirt you’re wearing and kisses you across the threshold. It’s one that catches you off guard, but you match the passion in it as soon as you realise what’s happening. The doors try closing on you a few times, but you keep blocking them with a hand. You’re not letting them steal your moment.

She breaks the kiss but keeps her grip on you. You can see the tears in her eyes, feel the ones in yours. It’s ridiculous. You catch one with your thumb as it starts to roll down her cheek and you place a kiss to where you broke its fall.

“If you’re ever back in London..” you tell her, a small smirk on your face, “just ask around for my initial. I’m sure someone will lead you back to me!”

“I’ll have to try.” She tells you earnestly, letting go of your sweatshirt and smoothing it back down for you.

“I really need to go. It’s not possible to make this any easier.” You tell her, pushing her back as the doors start their final closing attempt. “Don’t forget me!”

“I won’t remember anything else.” She tells you, as the doors close, and neither of you have chance to change your minds.

It shouldn’t hurt like this. It was a one-night stand. They’re not rare. The pair of you crying after a single night together? That’s rare. That’s ridiculous.

Collapsing in on yourself as you try to catch your breath without her? That’s insanity.

The tears flow freely as you hold yourself up against the side of the elevator. You pull the neckline of her sweatshirt up over your nose and breathe her in. Playing make believe in your head, that she’s still with you. It’s a souvenir you’ll treasure. A living memory. Proof that it wasn’t a dream, and it certainly wasn’t a nightmare. It was your perfect little night, wrapped up with the world’s most perfect woman. The woman who’s running off back to Spain with your heart in her hand luggage.

All this longing, this desire, this love, for a woman that you barely know. A woman you have no hope in ever finding again. A woman you’ve fallen head over heels for, despite being straight. Straight straight straight.

[rosetterer]

bucktommy prompt: different (flirty) first meeting 🤭

mornings are sweeter with you

Apparently, Starbucks is a popular place very early on a Monday morning. Who would've thought?

Buck feels like an idiot as he rambles his order to the poor, stressed-out-looking young woman on the other side of the counter, knowing, that he's already five minutes late and will likely have to wait for plenty more minutes, judging by the way the line only seems to keep growing.

And there will be traffic. Bobby is going to be pissed.

He had a horrible night and knows that it’s not an excuse but having only slept five hours because of the stupid nightmares that have taken over his mind ever since being released from the hospital, he needs caffeine before he gets to work.

He pays and goes to stand off to the side, where at least six other people are waiting for their to-go drinks. He stands further away from them and closer to the counter so that he doesn't get in their way and so that he gets a better view of the blonde woman yelling at the manager for having their employee screw up their order.

He checks his phone, only to pocket it soon after when the messages from 118 come in, asking where the hell he is. Buck isn’t the type to be late, he really isn’t. In fact, he loves to be early just about everywhere. But today, coffee is more important than anything else.

When the woman who took his order places a cup on the counter, calls out a name that Buck doesn’t hear because he’s still half-stuck in his thoughts and stares at him for a few seconds, Buck steps toward the counter and grabs the cup in his hand.

”That was fast,” he mumbles to himself, and despite feeling horrible for the workers getting yelled at for making drinks wrong, he has to make sure that it isn’t the case with his own drink.

So he takes a sip and swallows the cold liquid down with a small frown on his face.

It’s not correct. It’s nowhere near correct.

”What the hell?” He whispers and eyes the line that goes out the front door.

He doesn’t have time to go to the end of the line and wait for his turn to tell them that they made a mistake.

And so he speaks up, even though he feels terrible about it.

”Excuse me?” He says, trying to sound as polite as possible despite the stress of being late weighing down on him.

The woman who took his order looks at him as she makes another drink.

”My coffee, it’s made wrong,” he says.

The woman sighs and sets the cup she has in her hands to the side and walks over to him. Before she gets the chance to say anything, somebody comes to stand right next to Buck, casting a shadow on the counter in front of him.

”That could be because it’s mine,” an unfamiliar voice says and Buck turns to look at the person it belongs to.

The man is a little taller than him and the first thing Buck notices is the way that the outer corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles.

”Here. Look,” the man says, taking the cup out of Buck’s hand, brushing their fingers together for a split second, ”Tommy.”

Buck tears his eyes away from the man’s face and looks down at the cup. Written on its surface with a black marker is a name that apparently belongs to the man in front of him.

Now he feels even more like an idiot, ”Oh my God, I am so sorry, I-”

"Don't worry about it," Tommy tells him with a small wave of a hand and another smile. He leans against the counter. "I guess someone is in desperate need of coffee."

Buck gulps, ”You- You could say that.”

”Is your name Evan?” Another woman, also standing on the other side of the counter, asks.

”Uh…” Buck shakes his head to make his mind more clear again. He’d started telling them his real name after someone misheard him and wrote ’Fuck’ on his cup last year. ”Yeah, it is.”

”Here’s your drink,” she tells him, placing the cup on the counter in front of him.

The two workers hurry off to work on the other orders.

”I can pay for your coffee. As an apology,” Buck tells Tommy, nodding toward his drink, ”Or you can have mine, and- and I can finish yours since I already got my lips all over it.”

God, that’s a weird way to say it.

”I mean-”

Tommy chuckles. Buck has to stare down at his shoes for a moment, allowing the warmth spreading to his cheeks to go away.

”I’m willing to taste yours,” Tommy tells him then, already reaching for the cup in Buck’s hand.

And Buck gives it to him, willingly, and makes sure to touch the man’s hand to feel his skin again. A little rough, a little soft.

He is so confused by everything right now.

He watches Tommy take a sip and frown at the drink the same way he did a moment ago.

”That is… quite something, Evan.”

The way his name sounds like coming from the stranger makes his heart skip a beat.

Buck decides to ignore it and chuckles instead, ”Well, I wouldn’t talk if I were you, I mean… That was terrible.”

Tommy laughs right back at him and Buck bets that if he rested his head against Tommy’s chest, he would feel the rumble of it.

”Well, to be fair, that isn’t my usual order,” Tommy tells him, still leaning against the counter in a way that makes his shirt a little tight around his biceps.

Not that Buck is looking or anything.

”A friend of mine told me that the Starbucks near them is giving out drinks in rainbow cups for Pride Month if you order a certain kind of drink,” Tommy explains. ”Either they were fucking with me or that’s just not the case at this particular Starbucks.”

Buck nods, only half-listening. For some reason, his eyes are focused on Tommy’s cleft chin.

”W- What do you usually order then?” Buck finds himself asking, now looking up at the light blue eyes staring back at him.

”A flat white with two sugars. If I’m ordering from Starbucks, it’s a Venti but if from any other place, it’s just a large,” Tommy chuckles and Buck swears that he sees his eyes looking him up and down for a split second, ”That’s the way I like it. Tall, light… Sweet.”

Buck has to swallow again. He leans against the counter as well, not really knowing what else to do, ”S- So what did you order today?”

”Iced coffee with oat milk,” Tommy says. ”Judging from the way you reacted… Not good?”

”No,” Buck says with a slightly more relaxed laugh. ”Not great. And you didn’t even get a rainbow cup.”

”No, I didn’t,” Tommy chuckles under his breath. ”My friend must think they’re very funny, getting me to order something like this.”

He places the cup with the iced coffee on the counter, pushing it back gently to make it clear that he doesn't want it, and then hands Buck his cup back.

"I could uh…" Buck starts, trying not to focus on the way that Tommy's fingers scrape against his once more. "I could buy you a coffee from this other place I usually go to on my days off. It's a five-minute walk but I mean… You need your caffeine too. I could even draw a rainbow on your cup if you want me to."

Tommy smiles at him widely and tilts his head a little. Cute.

"I'd love that but I've got to take a raincheck," he says, glancing down at his watch. "My shift starts in half an hour, so…"

”Oh,” Buck mumbles under his breath and takes a quick sip of his coffee.

He doesn’t think about the fact that Tommy’s lips rested in the same spot of the cup just a moment ago. He really doesn’t.

"But I'd love to do that sometime," Tommy continues then and grabs one of the many markers on the counter.

He leans forward and for a moment Buck stiffens for no good reason, and watches as Tommy writes something on the side of his cup. He twists it around to see it when Tommy is done and smiling proudly.

On top of ’Evan’, it now says: Call me sometime, and under his name is Tommy’s phone number.

Buck smiles at him, ”I will.”

”Great. It was lovely to meet you, Evan,” Tommy says then and pats him gently on the shoulder. ”I’ve got to get going now, I just know the traffic’s going to be terrible. Don’t forget to call. I’m going to hold onto that promise of a drawn rainbow on my coffee cup.”

”Y- Yeah, I’ll…” Buck has to clear his throat. The spot on his shoulder where Tommy’s hand just was feels like it’s burning. ”I’ll work on my drawing skills.”

Tommy smiles once more as he starts making his way out of the Starbucks. Buck’s eyes follow him.

”Bye, Evan!”

”Bye,” Buck whispers back when Tommy is already out the door.

He stands there, holding his cup until a very annoyed man rushes toward the counter, nearly knocking him out of the way. Buck walks out as well and looks around a bit to see if he can get one more glimpse of the man he just met. He doesn't see him anywhere but just the thought of him makes Buck smile.

Coffee tastes better now than ever before and even the sun seems to shine brighter and warmer.

And despite being late, Buck isn’t in a hurry.

-

This turned out better than I thought it would, so I also posted it on AO3 :) Here's the link: mornings are sweeter with you - rosetterer - 9-1-1 (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Thank you Anon for the idea!

[merbear25]

based off the hcs where their s/o was an inch taller than them: how about kid, killer n law w an s/o thats SIGNIFICANTLY taller them, like 2 or more ft taller ?

Ayo~ I loved thinking about this and can't deny that you chose some good options for me to have a bit more fun with. I hope you like what I've written for you. 💜💜

Original ask

CW: SFW, gn!reader, headcanons, some fluff, some humor

With a s/o who’s much taller (Kid, Killer, Law)

Kid

He was not used to feeling so, well, small. Even when he faced enemies that were monstrously bigger, he thought nothing of it.

Perhaps it had to do with the way you peered down at him with that silly love sick look upon your face. 

He huffed at you when you gave him that look, turning away in wild blush. 

“Don’t give me that!” which was always followed by you asking, “What am I doing?” as you leaned down. His flustered expression had him stomping off, while mumbling, “I’m not that short,” to himself, despite you never mentioning his height.

If you had long hair, letting it fall in a way that framed him would make his heart beat so fast it was as if it was going to pop out of his chest. There was an undeniable beauty to you which caught him off guard at times.

Giving him pet names that related to his height in ANY way was going to make him pout and grumble. 

He’d shout at you, defending his height, which wasn’t short enough for you to be giving him so many nicknames. Nuh-uh. And he made sure you knew that through the yipping and barking he gave you in protest.

Killer

There wasn’t anything that he didn’t adore about you. In fact, he kind of liked how tall you were.

He felt as if he was “fun-sized” as you put it, which he couldn’t help laughing at. Seeing as you favored teasing him, he eventually started calling you “king-sized” to continue the trend of candy inspired pet names.

All teasing was done with an understanding that it wasn’t meant to be taken personally. He poked fun at you just as much as you did him. Light-hearted retorts and comically dramatic reactions, of which he wasn’t the best actor. However, you weren’t either and that made it that much more fun.

It wasn’t often that he took notice of the height difference. Of course, it was obvious, but to him you were just you. Plus, he liked looking up at you in order to see your beauty catching the rays of the sun before anything else did.

Being physically affectionate would make him melt. He adored being held by you, letting himself curl up in your arms.

If you were ever self-conscious about your height, he would never fail to lift your spirits by showering you with compliments and helping you realize the uniqueness it brought you.

Law

The difference in height didn’t matter to him, and he especially didn’t care about the jokes you made. Not. In. The. Slightest. Because he was very secure in his height. Mmhm.

He found you breathtaking and your height only amplified your show stopping beauty. That being said, you being as tall as you were could be quite annoying.

There were plenty of things he had no issue getting himself. “I’m perfectly capable!” He shouted in a flustered spat. You left him to it, not wanting to bother him further. Afterwards, 9 times out of 10 he realized he actually needed your help but was too embarrassed to ask for it now.

There were undeniable advantages though. If you went to a concert together, you could offer him a better view. He’d refuse the offer, denying that he needed it…but as the concert continued, he’d let you pick him up. 

Any teasing following this would make him pout in the corner and would undoubtedly lead to him giving you the cold shoulder.

His insistent moping around always came off as a bit over dramatic. You had to be the one to speak up first, otherwise it would go on forever.

He might not admit it, but he actually enjoyed it when you wrapped your arms around him from behind—it made him feel secure. Giving him an embrace like this would melt that iced shoulder he had towards you.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

i’ve never requested anything from anyone so i’m a lil nervy butttt…

i’d love a relationship arc with the one and only soap! i love him and his lil mohawk! like he’s stationed wherever and he meets then falls in love with a native citizen who works closely with the military and their relationship from when they first meet to first date to first kid to marriage (100% doesn’t need to be in that order btw)

everything you come up with is 🤌 so i know it’ll be good!🤍🤍

—Life Snaps By In Flashes

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [A collection of memories from the second he laid eyes on you. All flashing past in the soft buzzing of the overhead lights.] ❞

It was by some dumb luck that he’d locked eyes with you that day, decades ago now, but he carries that memory with him like a dog with a bone. Stuck under the glow of the overhead lights, Soap calls them all forward—the good, the bad, the moments of peaceful nothing. 

It had been on an OP, out in the field on surveillance for another threat. You had served him a coffee at a cafe, given that kind smile, and he had been gone far before he had been called to move in. Johnny was surprised at how fast it had happened, but he had always been easy to gather affection from, truthfully. 

And when he had found out that you were an informant? Beautiful, smart, and reliable? He had half stuttered his way through a fake confident question for your number, and you had happily agreed with a smirk. You told him it was because of his honesty—the intentions clear on his face from the moment you’d walked through the door of the military base, written intel under your left arm and a recorder in your right palm. 

He thought you were perfect from only one glance, and he had never thought otherwise. 

Of course, there were fights, and disagreements about the job and the safety of each other. That was fair—it was natural. That was life, and what would the purpose be unless to prove that the two of you loved with all of your souls? 

The first date was common, nothing fancy—a nice, casual supper at a restaurant that would be frequented far into your older years. Everyone there would end up knowing your names, the owner himself being invited to your wedding. 

Oh, the wedding. Johnny can call that forward as easily as air. Or, at least, as easily as air used to come to him.

You, in that dress, staring at him and walking down that aisle. Everything else had blurred that day, and all he could care about was how you looked at him—standing just ahead with your hands in his shaky ones; his lips quivering as he pushed out a shocked laugh.

“You look…amazing, Bonnie. Lord, you’re just perfect.” You had laughed at his hushed whisper above the muttering of the officiant, eyes glassy. Johnny had tried to stifle his hoarse inhales as you called him handsome right back. 

From then came the next journey—kids. Many of them. Johnny had as big of a family as he and you had always wanted; adventures and hardships. Football games and music shows, painting exhibits, and movie nights where everyone was snuggled together. His blue eyes staring at you over the heads of your brood. 

Every night he would thank you for it. Every night.

The years drew and drew, retirement and the kids going off to Uni—leaving and getting married themselves. Wrinkles. Graying hair.

Until here. 

Until muscles broke down and you needed a wheelchair, Johnny a cane. Until the kids had thought it better to make his office into an at-home care room for the two of you—a live-in nurse down the hall.

The kids had visited yesterday with their own little ones. The older ones had known, of course, just by looking. Smart devils, Johnny had called them when they were just tiny things. And they were. 

You and him had raised some damn smart little devils.  

Johnny had snuck into your room tonight, his heart hurting him and his mind understanding. He slipped into your bed and you both shared it one last time as you weakly kissed his pale cheek, him nuzzling his head into yours and muttering a low ‘I love you’.

You had passed not three minutes ago.

As he always had been, Johnny was loathed to leave you waiting for him. So here, with those overhead lights, he lets his eyes dip closed, and he swears that a soft hand brushes his cheek, calling him home. 

Outside, the crickets creek, and the stars blink. The wind slips through the curtains of the open window, swaying them in a dance only they know.

Johnny does as he always did before he fell asleep, and it came as easy as letting that final breath go.

“...Thank you.”

[mermazing-art]

The real name of the Furious Five 

After the Kung Fu Panda 4 movie I started thinking about what Zhen's first conversations with the Furious Five would be like. I imagined her nervous about making a good impression but fitting quite well with her group dynamic given her mischievous attitude and enjoying their adventures with her, establishing a relationship of trust. Which led me to a thought "Would she, wanting to know them more, ask them what their real names are?"

This theory has been circulating in the fandom for years since it is said that their names actually refer to their fighting styles or their species (as well as Master Ox, Crocodile or Rhino) since those who retain their own name within this discipline are those who have a superior role such as Oogway, Shifu or Po and those who do not have a title such as Zhen or Tai Lung.

Well, I decided to look for a suitable name for each one, one that fit their physique or personality, that was easy to remember and that would distinguish one another, let's go!

Mantis: Xun Yu ( fast jade )

With Mantis I was clear that I didn't want to look for anything that had to do with his size but I did want to highlight his most powerful abilities such as his speed.  That's where his first name, Xun, comes from.  His middle name, Yu (Jade), is because of his green color although this can also mean ''insect'' depending on the kanji with which it is written.  My idea is that Mantis calls himself ''the green lightning'' referring to his real name.

Crane: Zimo ( refined ink )

At first I wanted his name to be related to the sky or the air due to his avian species or his techniques, but it made me think that one of the things that catches my attention about this character is his interest in Chinese calligraphy.  Therefore, I decided to name him Zimo (ink or writing) to reflect his beloved hobby in his name.

Monkey: Wong Sang ( yellow mulberry )

For Monkey, I researched his voice actor, the one and only Jackie Chan, born Chan Kong-Sang. I wanted to take it as a reference by changing the name Kong since it is the name of the Monkey's brother to Wong (yellow), relating it to the color of his fur. I wanted to make a reference to his comic side but I couldn't find a suitable name for the guidelines I had assigned to it.

Viper: Jia Ling ( beautiful tinkle )

As with Monkey, I researched on her voice actress, Lucy Liu, whose full name is Lucy Alexis Liu Yu Ling. I wanted to reflect her charming and sweet personality, so I took the name Ling (tinkerbell) as a reference of the hiss' snake she produces, as well as her happy attitude.  But her first name would be Jia to emphasize the beauty of this character.

Tigress: Xia ( sunrise )

For her, I thought I would delve deeper into her story and her development as a character in order to give her the appropriate name.  This is her story:

When Tigress lived in the orphanage, she received the name Xian ("who lives in seclusion") from the other children perpetuating their contempt and fear of her. When Shifu finally decided to adopt her, after He heard that name many times, almost always accompanied by the word "monster", he asked her what new name she would like. She simply accepted Tigress because she didn't believe she could deserve a name. Shifu pondered and decided to call him Xia. Tigress at first didn't like this idea because it sounded similar to the previous one, but Shifu explained his choice to her. Both names, although similar, did not have the same meaning because now she would no longer be in the darkness, secluded and alone, but rather she had the opportunity for a new life, a path marked by the light that emanated from her, a new sunrise.

So yes, Zhen would ask the furious five their names, giving the situation that Po would find out right then and there about this. Everyone except Tigress would answer this question since for her it is still a very personal matter related to her past and Shifu and she still doesn't feel comfortable sharing it with everyone. Could Tigress talk to a certain panda about this?