#they gotta bring in the newbies too

[knight-gwaine]

Doctor Who is inherently built to evolve with the times and I think it's so strange when people get all butthurt about it not being the same. It's literally meant to be a family show for all generations. There will be consistency but also they gotta give us something new and exciting because that's the POINT.

[choppyama]

Hinata is intensely competitive and he thrives when he’s challenged so when a player proclaim that they want to be his rival, it is the biggest form of an acknowledgment.

“finally someone who doesn’t want to be my rival but instead dream to be on the same team as me and be by my side unlike everyone else🥺” is something you would NEVER catch shoyo saying bc it never mattered if it’s on the same or opposite sides of the net… it’s all volleyball.

wanna play together? Cool✨✨ wanna be rivals? Even better ✨✨✨

while it is true that at the start of the series, Hinata’s abilities in volleyball were on a newbie level and he needed a setter like Kageyama to enhance him, It’s also true that most of the time players underestimates him bc of his appearance,

BUT as soon as they see him play they always acknowledge that he bring something to the table, that aside from being part of the freak duo he’s worth recognizing on his own.

‘Everyone thinks hinata only shine bc of Kageyama’ NO THEY DON’T lol. You’ll always hear random players from rival teams says oh that number 10 surprised me the most! he’s a scary monster! wanna take down Kageyama? gotta take down hinata first’

They see him as an actual threat. They see him as a worthy competitor.

This might be about hinata being acknowledged within a rivalry context but ofc others wants to play with him too, set for him.

and Kageyama? He wants both rivalry and partnership. He actively wants to compete with shoyo, not just on the court but through every little thing they do, and he also wants to toss to hinata for the rest of his life.

so to think that “no one ever appreciates hinata outside of the freak duo” or that “everyone just actively wanted to be his rival and not his teammates” until the inarizaki match is such a disservice to his story.

not only it reduces hinata’s hard work and effort, his ability to convince others to choose him but also downplay Kageyama’s impact on him

when this guy was asking hinata to stay with him forever when they were just 15!

Kageyama being the first ever opponent shoyo’s ever encountered, who took him seriously, never once put his guard down the entire match and even after completely obliterating shoyo’s weak team he still viewed his opponent as an equal I could go on but I digress bc if I start yapping about kghn I’ll never stfu this isn’t abt them LMFAOOOOO

Ok back on topic, It’s not like hinata isn’t allowed to be… insecure (?) He was unsettled by Washijo's comment that he's only valuable with a setter during the Karaneko match. Even when praised by a Kamomedai player, Hinata deferred all the credit to Tobio. it’s understandable, that’s his entire dilemma for more than half of the manga.

but still,

Yes shoyo once had to ‘beg’ his friends for tosses in middle school, yes he had no teammates in the beginning or a partner but HE HAS KARASUNO NOW!!!

He has a very dedicated partner who promised to toss to him anytime he wants. Who makes sure hinata knows he’s integral to the team, who tells him he’s the greatest decoy. who made a whole speech about how much shoyo is needed when he was being insecure about his height. Who tells him he can fly even higher

Hinata has people in his life who believes in him, who appreciates him, respect him, acknowledge him as a worthy rival and partner. He’s doing fine!

*wanted to add his reaction when he was being praised after a match. He’s so cute shoyo i love you

[eldritch-spouse]

Listening to Jayde vent about recent his work frustrations and offering to give him the sloppiest sucky wucky for compensation

" I think you're stressing out over nothing. "

Your lips wrap around the straw of the fancy caramel milkshake Jayde bought you, eyes focused on the bags under his, the way he keeps tapping at the table and seemingly mumbling to himself in infernal.

The imp sighs, trying to calm down, a fruitless effort if the constant batting of his tail on the chair's legs is any indication. " ... I'm sorry, I just have to get this perfectly right, you know? My job depends on it. "

Your eyes nearly roll. " I don't think anyone in Sloth is lining up to be King Zizz's head imp... "

And you're sure that's the case. Jayde holds a spot this high in Sloth's hierarchy not because he's the most professional in the field but because he's the most hard working. He's always available and ready to do any manner of odd jobs, which is a level of agency almost no one in that Ring manifests. Realistically speaking, right now, he has no direct competition and is too expensive a loss to the royal court. Because, after all, losing someone who's already intimate with Sloth's routines and inner workings implies having to teach a newbie everything. It all seems like a whole bunch of work neither the King nor his servants are looking forward to.

This is practically a non-issue.

The green demon in front of you shrugs, as tense as a plank still. Jayde places a hand over yours on the table. " But I gotta be careful now, bijou. Maybe a few months ago I could afford to lose my position, but now I have someone to take care of... "

His jagged smile attempts to be reassuring when he squeezes your hand. Take care of sounds about right, this is the same demon who won't let you out of his luxury apartment, much less out of Hell...

You try to prevent bitterness from showing on your face. One step at a time, you'll find your way outside. Or go insane trying.

" Someone to spoil. "

A grin furnishes your face. " I think you spoil me plenty already. " Beneath the table, your feet push his chair back slowly, making Jayde blink vapidly.

The imp tries to say something but quickly shuts his own trap when you playfully slip under the table cloth, crawling your way to him. Soft hands trace up his legs through his pants, until you kneel before the King's head servant and tap at his zipper idly.

" You always give so much to your job, it must be exhausting... "

Jayde's tail is rapidly whacking into its surroundings again, this time not from stress. That mint-green face takes on a darker shade and he looks down at you as if you were made of diamonds, clad in the dress he bought you, the pendant and bracelets he almost begged you to accept.

" W- Well... I do work pretty hard. But it's nothing. I can take it. "

" I know you can. "

As much as you loathe your general circumstances right now, you can almost lie to yourself and say it's worth it when you feel him harden under your palm. Because it's so easy. He's so easy. Content with so little from you. This is by far a much more lavish lifestyle than the one you had, even if you're shackled to this monster... All you really have to do is keep him happy, put a hand around his twitching cock and tell him you're so happy to be doted on by such a wonderful man.

" You don't have to, sweetie. " He has the audacity to say, already leaking like a fucking faucet right in front of you. " I just wanted to bring you something nice. "

" Oh, do you want me to stop- "

" No! " Jayde gulps. " ... Please. "

You can't hide the little smirk when you move to finally wrap your glossed lips around his length. " Alright. "

The imp makes a rattle of a shudder as soon as you take him into the warmth of your mouth, a relieved moan hanging in the air as his legs spread and he pets your hair.

" Go on, tell me about the rest of your day. " You taunt, giving him only time to gasp before starting a pace that has him nearly choking.

" O- Ohh- Okay... "

As if he'll even try.

[mishietishie]

Gojo as your bf headcanons!

Includes: fluff, lots and lots of fluff, Gojo being silly, mention of having kids and possible spelling errors

So let's start off with how you two lovelies meet :)! You're probably a new teacher who got transferred from the sister schoo Kyoto to Tokyo because of your skill and prowess as a Jujutsu sorcerer. While principal Yaga gives you a tour of the school, you meet the strongest sorcerer, Gojo Satoru. He'd get all into your personal space, getting a good look at you before a smile crept up onto his face, greeting you with an enthusiastic smile.

"Hey, heey! You're the new teacher from Kyoto, right?~ Welcome to Tokyo!~ You know me as Gojo Satoru, the strongest, what's your name, newbie?"

Before you could properly introduce yourself, Yaga gave Gojo a good smack on the head, telling him to stop bothering you and act a bit more professional.

While Yaga started walking to continue the tour, you looked at Gojo who gave you a sheepish smile.

"Heeey, I still didn't get your name!"

You laughed and told him your name was L/N Y/N, which earned you a toothy grin from Gojo

"L/N.. I like that name! Say, do you wanna get a bite during lunch? My treat~"

And that's how it kinda all started!

let's just say that ever since you began working at the Tokyo school, the students started to absolutely adore you! Especially Nobara and Yuiji find you absolutely awsome! Megumi found you quite the Jujustu Sorcerer, though he didn't really let it show.

Okay, onto the actual headcanons lolsies

Gojo randomly barges into your office at whatever time. Either telling you about the latest gossip, bringing you mochi he bought from the sweetshop, or to complain about the higher-ups. He somehow always finds a way to be near you and spend time with you instead of doing his paperwork.

He likes to try out different foods with you! Whenever the food is too spicy, he'll give it to you wether you can handle spicy foods or not. (If you can't handle spicy food, you'll both be burning your tongues)

We all know Gojo is too rich for his own good, so what's a better solution then to let his amazing partner spend his money! Whether you use it for clothes, shoes, accessories, vehicles, hobbies, etc.. He doesn't care, as long as his pretty/handsome baby is happy, he is too!

He totally pranked you once by picking you up in his arms and flying with you in the air when you were still asleep.

He really likes playing with your hair! Sometimes he makes little braids in your hair (or atleast tries to) when you guys are just chilling in the comfort of your home.

He'd be totally down to wear matching outfits/shirts with you!

When you're both seperated because one (or both) of you are on a mission, he totally spam texts/calls you at any given moment. Sometimes even when he's fighting! (He is the strongest after all!)

Would be totally down to put a ring on your finger and make you Mr/Mrs/Mx Gojo Satoru

DEFINETLY wants kids, like he wants an army of babies that look like him and you!! His heart melts at the thought of it :((

If you can't get kids then he's always down for adoption! But if you don't wan't kids then you two can always adopt a few cats/dogs :)

Totally NOT a morning person, you seriously gotta drag him out of bed bc his ass is NOT MOVING (unless you're not a morning person either, then you're both stuck n late)

Ya these were the headcanons, thank you for reading to the end!~

Go back to Gojo's Master List?

Go back to the JJK Master List?

[user211201]

Gnarly Tides

--- Originally posted by ZacharyEverlust before 2018-08-22 ---

--- Note: Pokémon Gym Leader TF ---

We are back at the same location! Same place, same time, same method! Well slightly different one, a tweaked version of what will happen to the fellow victim from the previous story. Only this time, its from the OTHER soon to be-surfer's perspective. As such, the story starts off with his perspective. Seran, being called here by his friend, Baikoha, via text.

Dude you've gotta check this out!

I'm having a blast with Swimming! Coach wants you to tag along!

Bring your goggles along too man!

Obviously, knowing his friend, its totally odd that he would post a message like that. Baikoha didn't want to attend Sports Week much less enjoy those "swimming lessons". Not to mention he actually complained about it yesterday at his dorm...

Seran walked towards the open pool, letting his really long brown hair down as he gazed over the line of participants for this year's "Jockification Week", or so what people described. 'They turned guys and girls into jocks, full of school spirit and cocky bravado!' was apparently what some people described what happened to their friends...how farfetched, well, aside the fact that even his own friend posted that weird message back to him.

The invited-teen peered over for his friend for a few moments, unable to find him. Probably already in the pool by then, Seran assumed, scratching his growing beard down below his lip. The thin-lanky man has to be at the beach in about an hour from now, skipping out an hour's worth of sleep to originally bail with him so they could dodge sports week together, though his friend's apparent change of heart as shown in his message...it was weird, really weird.

Probably at this moment, Seran's mind wondered even more about those Jockification rumors he'd heard from the other newbies. "What if they were true?" Was the first stereotypical soon-to-be-victim thought anyone would have. He recalled the goggles he and his friend discussed yesterday, him being the lucky person that received a limited edition "Marlon & Brawly branded goggles." To his surprise, the other pair was inside the gift box that was laid in his doorstep this very morning!

To be honest, it looks awfully strange, with shiny plastic lenses and their sides being being labelled with the numbers 1-2-3-4-5. Coloured completely black with shiny orange lenses. He wanted to go and tell his friend about this too, though it'd be better just to surprise him. Right?- SPLASH!-Wow some douchebag splashed water on him---SHONE!--"WHA--?"

He sensed the sides of the goggles glowing, sending pulsating charges to the lenses as they glowed a bright orange, shining brightly as though its a conjoined process. Glowing and overwhelmings strongly on the inside of the lens, past the helpless victim's past through the corners of his brain, touching the commands and subjects that make a person-them.

"ARGH! My eyes--huh?" Like an enormous tidal wave that's about to wash over a helpless surfer, he felt like his body became paralyzed in a millisecond, as though he was no more in control. HANG TEN! Was the signal the flashed in his brain, the only thing he could focus on the inside whilst observing the pool's water dripping down from his skin--?

Brawler's Stance!

His thought shifted momentarily, the number 5 engraved on the side of the goggles faded away as this happened. His fists clenched, as his body brought itself to an iconic fighting position, one that's familiar in a game remake. With feet firmly rooted to the ground, squats strongly standing apart and fists brought close to his chest.

SOMEBODY HELP ME! He thought loudly to himself, unable to open his mouth aside forming a huge cocky-like smile that was unlike him, eye brows furrowed oddly , if anyone took notice of him, he would look like a mix of an odd statue and a young man looking for a fight. Although...he didn't fit the part of a fighter just yet, needing an appropriate body to support the current position he is in--

SPLASH!

"NOT AGAIN!" He shouted. The Second tide came in, as a swimming gave a powerful dive from the diving board. Drowning Seran's clothes and his chest from the inside even further. A Drenched white T-shirt and brown khaki shorts, with plain looking sandals. This certainly did not match the goggles he is current matching, and that is about to change as the number 4 faded away next.

PUMP IT UP!

WHOA! He watched his body rise up even higher with a dose of electrolytes, goggles converting pool water to salt water as it gave a dose full of a lifetime's worth of minerals to the body. Aging several years as his height went up with it, with even longer legs and arms, a body that's as tall as any other typical sportsman that can be seen in sight.

Bathed in an appropriate amount of UV rays from the sun, his body crusted into a perfect moderate-brownish Hawaiian tan, like its a result of time and dedication. With his body being at a prime at his early twenties, yet feeling really uncomfortable underneath the clothes he's currently wearing, like it wasn't his style, like he deserved something better--

WOW! The next thought came up, as he watched as his clothes physically re-materialize by themselves right before the goggles covering his very eyes-- RUBBER! Starting with the feet, as the base of the sandals dyed themselves a strong orange, and black rubber soaked itself over the top.

Escalating hugely, they grew larger than the size of his foot as they reached a decent L-size. Bottom becoming rubber like the top, with the strap too becoming part of the design and turning orange as well. Five circles appeared where the toes should be and two black rolled loops appeared at his ankles, though the whole new wet-shoes get-up barely fit him.

The same treatment can be said about the rest of the attire as it went up, clothes now barely fitting and staying on him due to the L-size of the clothes, only thanks to the tight-fitting quality of wet-attire were why they were able to still stick onto his thin bod.

With Khaki shorts morphing themselves blue with waterproof threads as they wrap loosely around his waist, sky blue boarder shorts only on due to the current "stance" he's made into. A plain generic T-shirt gaining originality as they rediscovered cool typical sports patterns sufficing from his chest and trailing from on shoulder to another.

Those patterns turned a familiar pure orange as the rest of the shirt turned into a sporty black. Bringing out a cool and manly side out of the wearer. The sportier shirt hugged tightly to his skin as they turned into a waterproof-skin tight fabric, seemingly rubberized. A loop suffices around the top of his shirt, below his neck and similar to the ones of his wet-shoes.

With that being said, the last changes formed at his fists as the surfer influence touched his hands. Black covering his fists as they turned into orange at the top, with the same loop down at his wrists. Forming Brawler-like slash Surfer wet gloves for those who enjoy diving into the ocean from time to time, and with the current status of his body, it seemed as they just enjoyed anything water sports related, especially surfing--

SPLASH!!!!

"DUDE! THIS IS NOT COOL BRAH---?!" The man complained, vocabulary "Oh man! I haven't even bulked up yet---!" He realized that, with it being the next stage as the number 3 faded too.

IT'S WORKOUT TIME!

His brain thought, feeling his fists clenching even harder as veins bulge toughly from his arms. Watching them firm up as they do their years of training hard, growing to a sizable size as those knuckles nicely fit the gloves like a proud brawler.

The power and energy moved up to his shoulders, expanding them wide and steady as a result of surfing for over a decade, body posture and balance maintaining his strong figure. With a hefty lean-muscular chest supporting his front with tanned pecs and chiseled abs showing his status as a gym instructor, and a gym leader.

Legs tanking out, with calves steadying and fitting the boarder shorts like he liked it. Butt rounding and firming up, jutting out simultaneously with his feet as they filled in their entire wet-shoes. His attire completely suiting his powerful physique, like he deserved it.

"Man! This is great and all!" The soon to be hundred percent Surfer man spoke. "This like totally caused a storm of astonishment to my system! Oh man! But like..."

SPLASHHHH!

"HAHA! Wow! Again with the waves dude!" With water entering his system, cleansing his throat and tonsils, refilling the surfer lingo that he ever most desires with an attractive, chill and a totally radical voice that didn't cared much about intelligence." Gnarly Voice man...AWESOME!"

HANG TEN DUDE!

"Wicked!" An overwhelming surge of confidence and resolve shone in his face. Teeth as white and strong as a Sharpedo's, a smile evolved to a fearless confident grin. Angular Jaw being a sticker to the personality that crashes tides and oceans with his surfboard.

"I LOVE this dude! Can't get enough of it!" Hair spiking at the back, maintaining themselves like an in-bred style that suits him. Blasted away with Sky Blue like his boarder shorts, totally radical as they held spiked in place, bangs free. Facial features chilling with the breeze blowing against his forehead, ears wide open, nostrils filled with the scent of the sea, black sharp eyebrows boldly representing his self-assurance, his power, and his passion for what he does.

"And it just gets better and BETTER!"

"SPLASHHHHHHHHHH!"

"WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Fully lost in the Ocean, the new man awoke. With the number 5 completely fading away, he understood the hang ten quality within him and embraced the tide. With outstretched arms voluntarily breaking past any gnarly paralysis, and a body standing tall and firm as water poured down on him.

His goggles glowed and allowing the sun rays reflecting of the pool's surface to bask him with all the thoughts that he needed. Goggles taking on their true form as they tinted themselves as pure orange shades, with black sides supporting his coolness.

"Yo! Brawly! Sup!" Marlon raised his hand. HI-FIVE "Hey Man! Totally drenched me over here! Haha!" He laughed.

Lifting up the shades, revealing two piercing light blue eyes that shredded killer waves. He understood who he is, and how couldn't he? Being the Former Gym Leader of Dewford City's Gym, churned in the rough waves while pumping in the gym and toughening up in a pitch-black cave.

Now the Captain of The University's Water Sports Group, and yet another carefree Surfer Jock who loves nothing more than being in the water, Brawly takes his stance.

With his buddy Marlon by his side, being the fierce competitors and the greatest of friends back when they met in orientation. Rooming up like the bros they are, and having being given their own special goggles together by the higher-ups as a reward for being one of the best pairs in their category. The Ocean. Though his was definitely cooler since it could transform back and forth between his trusty shades and goggles with a button at the back. How awesome is that?

With their knowledge of the ocean, surfing as well as a healthy match of Pokemon battles and tons of working out. With Marlon and Brawly taking the lead in The school's Swimming/Water Polo and Dynamic Surfers Teams respectively, The Captains of the University's Water Sports Group were unstoppable together.

"Dude! Race you to the top of the diving board." Marlon swam. "Oh yeah? Well I'm gonna wipe you down man!" Brawly jumped in and swam right after him.

The two of them made their way to the diving board.

"Hey Man! Watch this--I'm gonna make--!"

"A Bigger Splash Than The Sea!"

SPLASH!

"Dude, that's nothing. Don't forget, I'm--!"

"A Big Wave In Fighting!"

SPLASH!

[dairy-farmer]

Oh? Ooooooooh~☆? What's THIS my mind has brought me?

You remember my Time Stop Au? My mind, genius that she is, has oft be asking! But what if The Reverse Tho? And isn't THAT a delightful question indeed??? >:Dc

Because everyone with EYES could tell you? That Batman? Desperately in need of some orgasms and a nap. Just in general. Always.

Would it fix him? No. But it WOULD probably help! Especially in Tim's early years.

And! Who has greater resistance to Magical Temptation? Batman... or Robin? If YOU were a Time Effecting Magical Device and trying hide from the Fuzz? Would you try and tempt BATMAN to sneak you into his pocket? Or wee baby Newbie Robin?

*sparkles in Innocent Time Piece* ~✨️ Thaaaaats right, kid. Pick them up. Promise not to lead you too THAT many poor life choices!

So Tim finds a neat watch. Looks like one of his parents antiques. Shiny.

Discovers LATER? Omg. He can FREEZE TIME? Gets SO much work done. Because he is a Nerd. But! He also gets super used to using it. For homework, naps, extra training. You name it. And it helps! He's doing a lot better as Robin.

But Bruce isn't getting better. Is in fact, in one of his Tough Case, self-destructive spirals. He needs to sleep. Eat. Rest for just ONE minute! But he won't. And it's BAD. Tim doesn't know what to do. It's not like he can FORCE him. But he knows Stress can kill.

He's franticly researching. Ways to bring down stress. Ways to get people to sleep. Anything! And... huh. "Jerking off" huh? Well he KNOWS there no way Bruce is going to go for it. It might feel good and God forbid THAT happen! No, we gotta punish ourself for days and worry all the people around us!

But... wait...

Looking at his Watch? Tim thinks... But what if I do it?

So he brings his watch to the cave. Goes to a changing stall with his uniform. Waits. Aaaand, there! Alfred bullying Bruce into a shower. Water starting. Give it a minute. Alfred's satisfied he's actually in, is leaving. Elevator opens. It closes.

Click. Time stops.

Slips out of his clothes so they won't get wet. Leaves everything in the stall. Pads over to the shower. And there is Bruce. Wet and miserable. Leaning forward against the wall with his eyes closed. Letting the water just run down his back. Half-hard but clearly intent on ignoring it.

Not on Tim's watch! He did RESEARCH. Using Pornography!

So, carefully, he rubs and strokes Bruce's cock. Doesn't REALIZE yet, that because time is frozen? It can't react to the teasing until time starts again. So obviously he must not be doing it right. Maybe if he rubs and teases the head? No... he's supposed to cups and roll the balls, right? Wait. That lady used her mouth.

He's pretty sure Bruce can't FIT.

But he CAN lick! And he's in the shower, so he's clean. Tim's licked weirder stuff for less. Does he do the whole thing? No reaction. Maybe try sucking on just the head? How though? He tries several ways on now seem to work. Darn. Maybe rub that and lick there? No, but what if he...

He tries for over an hour. Eventually concedes defeat. He just cant figure it out! Maybe hes just bad at this. He'll do more research and try again. Bruce needs this, he's sure of it. So, sighing, he let's go and pads over to his dressing stall. Honestly his hands are cramping and his tounge feels like he licked sandpaper. But he TRIED! What did he do wrong?

Click.

The sensations slam into Bruce like a semi-truck. His hips bucking back but being unable to escape the onslaught of pleasure. Hot stroking hands, inexperienced but worshipping, teasing EVERYTHING. Then a MOUTH? He chokes on the cries that want to rip out of him. TIM is here. He... he will NOT.

But after twenty minutes, when it at most takes him ten, and no sign of him? He doesn't much get a choice. Tim find him, hand pressed desperately over his own mouth, cumming AGAIN into the growing puddle on the shower floor. His whole body twitching, shameful, unable to stop as some unseen force keeps trying to suck him dry.

Tim looks so startled.

Helps him without judgement. He always seems to be doing that. Even though he's just found his Mentor utterly ruined, he doesn't even blink. Just helps. Bruce... Bruce doesn't deserve him. Clings anyway, as another orgasm rips through him.

Stops pushing him away, after that. Is alot closer.

Tim is THRILLED. It DID help! But inevitably, Bruce starts to spiral again. Not because of him. But does it matter? Stressed to the point of breaking down. Every other method exhausted. Time to MAKE Time.

He has to search a little, this time. But finds Bruce in his room. Already trying to De-stress. Good! Tim'll help. Has been working out how to do that himself. Doesn't think it will FIT, yet, but he can definitely do that thing the lady did! Where she rubs herself against the tip. And? He has been practicing fitting things in his mouth! He can do it this time.

Tim leaves, certain he did a good job. And Bruce? Who just wanted a quick jerk before bed? Gets slammed with sucking wet heat and eager hands. Another marathon he can't escape. Butt stuff! Cause Tim found his lube on the bed and remembered that article he read on prostate health.

He has such precise, clever little fingers. Bruce doesn't so much see stars as whole ass nebula. Has a drained, thousand yard stare and early morning sheets washing session the next day. Calmer though.

And it continues. Bruce gets Too Stressed? Tim brings out the watch. Bruce quickly figures out the link, but can't figure out the culprit. Is pretty damn sure he took their virginity. But is it really "taking" if they use you like a dildo? Regardless. Tim has been a rock. No prying question, no judgements, just support.

It brings them closer.

He can admit... he craves a warm body to hold. Feels like a monster, making up the excuse that Tim will be on gaurd for their mystery assailant. Bruce know he won't be able to stop them. It's a magic user. But... Tim is warm beside him. And maybe Bruce can pretend that it's Tim, depraved as that is, instead of some stanger. Hold him close after.

And Tim KNOWS he should stop. Or come clean. But? It's HELPING. And they're so close now! And... and it feels so GOOD. Bruce's cock, grinding inside him. Lifting himself and rocking back down. Or sucking him and just relaxing into it, like maybe Bruce wanted him to warm his cock for hours. Or.. or fucking BRUCE, feeling the other end of the dildo rocking and moving inside him, every time he thrusts, wondering if he's hitting that good spot, gonna make Bruce cum.

Tim can't help it. He wants to be GOOD for him. Ride him and suck him and make him feel good. Let Bruce use him and fill him up. Keep him full. He's pretty sure he's turning into a pervert. And it's getting worse.

He's started to notice... well...

Dick looks REALLY stressed you know? Tim could probably help~

-🐼🐼🐼

😍😍😍!!!! tim stopping time to fyck vruce and bruce latching onto tim because he doesn't "judge" while being phantom fucked. tim starting to escalate and setting his eyes on dick 👀👀!!!

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

INKling

A/N: Okay so a while ago I saw a post made by the__ria on Instagram where she drew Gerard as a tattoo artist with a bunch of tattoos and piercings and it's so INCREDIBLE (the post is from April 2023 on her Instagram page if you wanna see my direct inspo!). So here's a cutesy little story about who I think tattoo artist Gerard would be, and him doing/walking the reader through her first tattoo. Pairing: tattoo!artist!Gerard x F!Reader Warnings: Swearing, needles? (idk if that's one but putting it down) Word count: ~2,900

You were finally doing it.

After over a year of wanting to, lots of thought and contemplation about it, you were finally forcing yourself to overcome the fear of potential pain and just get the tattoo you had wanted. You figured now was not only the perfect time to get some important art with significant value to you on your body but also to face your fear of pain and commitment. Call it killing two birds with one stone, you were calling it a whirlwind of anxiety.

Your favorite co-worker, Lianna, had promptly suggested her tattoo/piercing artist as soon as you told her you were gonna do it. Her face was sparkling with various pieces of metal through her skin, her arms lined with sleeves of small tattoos, and you knew she had some other places too. So why not? She clearly knew what she was doing, and you had no one else to rely on for this.

So this Saturday morning you entered the small parlor tucked in-between a couple of larger shops on the grungey side of town. You preferred it here anyways, where coffee shops and cocktail places were oddly experimental and regular clothing stores were silenced by the absurd amount of thrift stores. “You ready?” She asked with a big smile as you two walked in.

You tightly smiled, “Yeah, but nervous.”

“Don’t worry, Gerard is amazing. He makes everything so comfortable and is such a talented artist. He’ll take great care of you.”

“Did I hear my name?” You heard a male voice shout from a hallway somewhere.

“Yeah Gee, it’s Lianna.”

“Again? Dude, I will always thank you for your business but you were here like three weeks ago-" He stepped around the corner and into the back part of the counter, stopping briefly when he saw you.

“I’m here for her.” She clarified nodding her head in your direction.

Of course Lianna had to bring you to not only a vibey, comfortable tattoo shop, but one where the owner, and soon to be your artist, was extremely hot. You really tried to control your dilating pupils, but then again, no one could do that. There was no hope for you at this point. His lightly shaggy but short black hair that fell just below the tip top of his ear. The piercings that looked like they were made for his face included a septum, angel fangs on the top of his lips, a bridge piercing, and a small one on the center of his bottom lip (you weren't sure what those were called). And the tattoos that surrounded the skin all over him and up his neck just past the cut of the top of his shirt. You wanted to trace your finger over every inch of ink on his body.

“And who is this?” He smirked which you quickly picked up on, going to sit at his computer briefly.

“Um, I’m Y/N.” You said with a small smile, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too, sugar.” He looked up at you a bit, “What’re you here for?”

“A tattoo-“

“Her first.” Lianna quickly jumped in.

“Oh? A newbie.” He smiled, “We all gotta start somewhere. It looks like you’re in luck too because I’m free this morning so you won’t have to deal with Frank. He gets a little needle happy and likes the bigger harder stuff, and I’m assuming you wanna start simple.” You nodded, “What’re you thinkin’?”

“I want a sunflower on my forearm,” You said as he lightly nodded.

“Sounds easy enough, got any ideas I can see?” You nodded and pulled up your Pinterest board of ideas you liked while he quickly scanned through them, clearly taking many mental notes. “Perfect, mind if I take a few minutes in the back to draw up some ideas?” You nodded as he shot you a quick smile and went to the back.

“So, what do you think of him?” Lianna turned to you and asked.

“Why did you take me to a hot tattoo artist?” You groaned under your breath and through your teeth, hoping the walls here were thick. “Out of everyone and you chose the one that’s my type, and manages to make every single tattoo and piercing he has look like they were literally made for him.” She shrugged.

“Hey babe, remember I’m into women. Been dating the same one for five years, I don’t notice that shit about men.” You rolled your eyes, “If you really wanna go for it though, Gerard is most definitely single.”

“Yeah because someone who looks like him is gonna go out with me.”

“Judging by how incredibly flirty he was and the amount of times I counted his eyes looking you slowly up and down, I think the feeling is mutual.” You rolled your eyes. “For someone as genuinely beautiful as you are, we need to work on your self-confidence around men. It’s borderline sad how poorly you are at dealing with any man who is into you.”

“Because they’re not into me. They’re being nice.”

“I’ve known Gerard for years. That’s an overly nice, flirty, ‘I want to fuck this women’ Gerard.”

“I’m not looking for just a fuck.” You clarified, though you definitely wouldn’t mind doing that with him.

“Alright, I’m back. Thanks for waiting.” Your trance was broken by Gerard rounding the corner with an iPad in his hands. He walked over to you, standing next to you, and glancing the screen in your direction. It took your brain a few seconds of recalibration to stop focusing on his body heat, proximity, and damn smell that reeked in some sort of addicting way of cigarettes, coffee, and some musky pine situation.

Your eyes zeroed in on the design, realizing it was everything you wanted and more. Your face broke out into a huge smile. “It’s perfect. Like legitimately perfect.” He smiled back down at you.

“I’m glad you like it.” He responded. “Let me run back and print this out real quick, then get you to my station so we can talk placement.”

It only took him two or three minutes to get a variety of his designs printed out, coming back out and leading both you and Lianna to his station.

“You’ve eaten and drank water today, right?” He asked and you nodded.

“I wouldn’t have let he come here without that.” Lianna was quick to speak up.

“Right.” Gerard curtly nodded with a tight smile. “Just double checking. You would be surprised by the number of people that say they do that and then pass out or have issues afterward.” Your eyes went wide in concern. He saw your face and immediately retracted what he had said. “That’s not gonna happen to you. It only happens to people that don’t and just say they did.” He politely smiled. You nodded.

He spent a few minutes working with you on placement before finding the right area, and then carefully positioning it on your arm to make it easier for him to work. Even with his gloves on, your mind wandered with curiosity about how his hands felt, what they could do, and where they could go. It was subconscious, as you internally kicked yourself for thinking such things.

“Alright sweetheart, if you need to take a break or for me to stop because of the pain let me know.” You nodded, biting your bottom lip as you grew even more nervous. Your mind felt like it was spinning a bit, your face heating up at the prospect of the pain. “Do you wanna take another minute?” He asked, clearly sensing your nervousness.

“No, I’m okay.” You replied. “Just rip the band-aid off.” He softly smiled and nodded, grabbing his small tattoo gun.

“If it makes you feel any better,” He mentioned, loading what you assumed to be the ink inside. “Women’s pain tolerances are amazing when it comes to tattoos compared to men. I’ve had way more grown-ass men tap out after a few minutes on easy tattoo spots then I’ve had women after hours on more painful areas.” “Really?” You asked, partially amazed. He nodded with a “mhm”.

“I swear,” He smiled softly. You didn’t even notice until now that he had placed the needle on and began tracing the outline.

It was way better than you had anticipated. If anything, it didn’t even feel fully like a scratch, just like a very very small burning and tingling sensation.

“You doing okay?” He asked, his eyes still zeroed in and focusing on the lines he traced.

“Yeah, actually. This doesn’t really feel like much.”

“See.” You could see his cheeks push up from where his head was tilted in what you assumed to be a smile. “Tattoos are generally not bad, but especially on women.”

He continued on for a few minutes, Lianna filling the air with her random ranting about one thing or another, before Gerard spoke up again.

“Why did you decide on this tattoo, if you don’t mind me asking?” He spoke.

You softly smiled. “It’s for my grandmother. She passed away just over a year ago, loved sunflowers, so I wanted to get it for her.” Gerard hummed in appreciation.

“I’m assuming you were close with her?” He asked next, to which you hummed a quick “mhm”.

“I was very close with my grandmother too.” He smiled to himself, now tracing some the of the leaves. “She was the one who convinced me to continue with art from when I was a kid into my teen years, and then wanted me to go into it professionally.” He said.

“That’s really sweet.” You replied. “Do you have any tattoos for her?”

“I’ve only got one, shockingly.” He chuckled. “I got it right after she passed, five years ago-ish. It’s just her name in her handwriting on my inner forearm.” You glance down to where his arms laid, working on your own, but couldn’t find it.

“What was her name?”

“Helena.” He stated. “I can show it to you after.” You nodded, not even sure if he could see your face, but also not sure how to respond fully. “Are you ready for shading? This is probably gonna hurt a bit more.”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” You replied. He looked up at you for the first time during the session to give you a comforting smile.

“If you need to tap out just say so. No shame in it.”

Shading dis hurt notably more. You closed your eyes for a small portion of it when the pain became a lot, the repetition of the needles over and over again on the same part of your skin. “You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You sighed out, letting your mind take you to other places but the pain on your arm.

“Good girl.” He muttered. That phrase made you tense, and you prayed no one in the room noticed your legs move slightly closer together. Damn praises.

Your eyes opened, working their way up to Lianna who was smirking between the two of you. Had you not been preoccupied with one of your arms being temporarily out of commission, you would’ve hit her.

Less than 20 minutes later he was done. You heard the gun turn off, and his gloves come off.

“You wanna see it?” He asked and you nodded, standing up and letting him guide you to the full body mirror in the shop. As soon as you turned your arm to see it, you gasped out loud not even intending to.

It was more than perfect. You weren’t sure you could have pictured it turning out any better, the way it cascaded up your arm and the perfect detailing.

“It’s literally perfect.” You stated in disbelief and excitement, turning to Gerard who had a huge smile plastered on his face. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course.” He replied, “I’m glad you really like it.”

“More than really like. I absolutely love it.” He nodded in appreciation.

You quickly glanced down to his inner forearm, noticing the delicate cursive tracing of the name "Helena". He quickly noticed, moving his arm up and to his side to allow you better access to see it more fully.

"That's really beautiful. And sentimental." He nodded.

"It keeps me grounded. Reminds me of her and all the principles she gave me." He softly smiled. "Grandma's are pretty damn special, aren't they." You giggled under your breath.

"They sure are."

It didn’t take long for him to ring you up, handing you over the total and waiting for you to pull out your right card.

“Wait-“ You began at the front desk, he stood behind it his head perking up at your confusion. “This is less than it’s supposed to be, right?” He shrugged it off.

“Lianna comes in here so often, I added a friend's discount.”

“Gerard, you really don’t have to do that. You worked really hard and I-“

“It’s okay, really.” He softly smiled. “Just come into me for the rest of your tattoos.” You nodded with a smile.

“Of course.” There was no need to argue and try to say you weren’t sure if you were getting more. As soon as you realized the pain was much less than anticipated, and how much you loved the new piece of art on your arm, you knew deep down you would be back for many more.

“Thank you, again.” You said, giving your signature on the receipt.

“Anytime.” He cheekily smiled at you. “I’ll see you around.”

“For sure-“

“Before we leave,” Lianna spoke up, now standing beside you and leaning on the counter. You assumed she was going to either request an appointment with Gerard or ask a tattoo-related question. “Gerard I’ve known you for four years.” He gave her a quizzical look, clearly just as unsure as you were as to where this conversation was heading. “You’ve never once flirted with a client, until Y/N.” He tried to interject with a quick opening of his mouth as his face turned bright red. “And Y/N is shit at talking to men. So just give her your number so we can all walk out of here happy and knowing the sexual tension over the last hour and a half does exist, and will be dealt with.”

Both you and Gerard stared at her with wide eyes unsure of what to do. For the first time that day, Gerard seemed flustered.

“Oh, um- yeah, sure.” He said, fiddling around the desk and finding a post-it note. He hastily wrote down his number, handing it to you. “No pressure or anything at all.”

“Thanks.” You softly smiled, still too embarrassed by Lianna to muster up anything more. “I’ll uh- I’ll text you.”

“That would be great.” He replied. “You like coffee?” You nodded. “Perfect, we’ll set up a date.” Your eyes went wide with nervousness. You looked like a deer in the headlights. “Again, no pressure.”

“Right.” You said, “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, it was nice meeting you Y/N.”

“You too, Gerard.”

As you walked out of the tattoo shop, you felt your cheeks heating up into a bright red of embarrassment from Lianna. “Why the fuck would you do that?” You asked/yelled at her as soon as you were a solid two blocks away.

“What? The tension between you two was insane.” She explained with a sigh. “And he wasn’t going to ask, because Gerard’s professional and takes pride in that. And you sure as hell weren’t going to ask, because you lose every ounce of your confidence around men.”

“That’s-" You knew she was right but the principle of the matter still made you mad at her.

“It’s the truth. And you should be thanking me! You now have a date with a hot as hell tattoo artist.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t judge men by how they look.” You fired back.

“I am a true and proud lesbian at heart… but you do have a point. I could see his attractiveness from a ‘I’m into guys’ perspective. It took a lot of imagining.” You groaned.

“What if he doesn’t actually wanna go out with me and you just made him feel pressured?”

“Gerard Way doesn’t feel pressured.” She explained with a scoff. “If there’s any man in the world who is confident bordering cocky, but thankfully stays a few steps away from cocky, it’s Gerard. He would have come up with an excuse, or better, told me off if he didn’t want to give you his number.”

“Whatever.” You sighed. “Now I have a date to set up and a new stressor and-"

“Gerard is chill.” She softly smiled at you. “He’s literally just gonna ask you to get coffee with him, he’s gonna pay no doubt, and just chill in the corner of a coffee shop with you and talk.”

“I’m not good at talking to men.”

“You’re great at it when you feel comfortable.” She sighed. “Just- trust me, he’s a great guy. If you’re nervous, tell him and he will completely understand.”

“Okay.” You said in a final defeat. “If this all goes to shit though, I’m blaming you.”

“If it all goes to shit, which it won’t,” She confidently fired back. “I’ll pay for your next tattoo.”

“It won’t be from Gerard if it all goes to shit.”

“Eh, so be it. A revenge tattoo arc would be fun for you!”

[ponds-of-ink]

Very Quick Springtrap & Y/N One-Shot: “A Dumbfounding Comparison”

Is it still considered a Y/N thing if it’s not written in second person? ..Regardless..

I got inspired by a post by @alexthesillybilly talking about Springtrap being compared to a childhood teddy bear, so here this is. The prompt sort of changed mid-writing, but I hope this is still good.

–

Springtrap hid behind the open door. If it weren’t for the fact that the newest guard was chattering on the phone, he would’ve given ‘em a proper scare.

…Not because he was scared of being seen or anything. Such a feeling couldn’t register even if it wanted to.

Rather, it was this looming sense of being ignored that was the issue. On and on this guard rambled, even as he peeked his head into the office. Topics like “You’ve got to see this place!” or “The computers are so slow here..” was all the newbie could talk about. Nothing about him nor the fact that he was right next to the office. Just… standard conversations one could have on a first night at some new job. Like it was a mere nine-to-five desk affair.

Honestly, all this chatter left him feeling hollow. Bereft, even.. Though what exactly prompted the feeling was unknown.

Yet, not being one to leave a “job” unfinished, he continued to linger. All he could do was silently beg for the sweet sound of those three rapid beeps. At least the guard was quieter now. That seemed promising.

“Hey, before I go,” the newbie piped up, “I gotta tell you about something I found tonight.”

Springtrap’s ear raised. Oh?

“it was the prettiest! So velvety and soft, it made my heart race.”

His ear lowered right back down. Ah. Never mind. It must have been some fluffy pillow at some nearby store. Thirty years had not been kind to his animatronic body— Let alone being considerate enough to not mess with the quality of the fabric.

“…Well, I mean, it was pretty to me,” the newbie corrected sheepishly, snapping him out of self-introspection. “Kinda like how your old teddy bear gets all grody with age. The memories are still there if you look past the muck and stuff.”

A staticky counterpoint pierced through the air. Springtrap finally peered into the room again. There was the guard, all bundled up in Autumn attire. That modern phone still buzzed with some unseen voice explained how “something that tall” couldn’t be compared to a teddy bear. Whatever that something was didn’t matter. This was his chance.

He trudged up to the desk. His posture slowly readied itself for an attack. The countdown in his head staggered just in case the mere pain in moving spiked. 

Three… Two… One—

“Oh, there you are!” the guard cried out, finally making eye contact with him. “We were just talking about you!”

Springtrap faltered mid-pounce.

All that “soft and velvety” nonsense was about him?

“I forgot to tell him that you were able to move too,” the newbie added, cupping the one side of their scarf-covered cheek. “Thanks for reminding me!”

The voice on the phone bounded back to life. Many questions were raised, but Springtrap was too stunned to pay attention. It took him even longer to realize that the phone had now morphed into a miniature camera of some sort. His own gruesome features were, thankfully, jarring enough to bring him back to reality.

Except now that long-lost fear came along with him.

All he could do was just go through the motions of a typical introduction: Wave “Hello”, attempt to look hospitable, then don’t panic if you catch yourself being filmed. Easy said, a-little-less easily done.

Fortunately for him, this only lasted a minute or two.. Merely because the person on the other side was desperate to not hurl on “camera”. The guard, strangely enough, was not in the least bit repulsed by this towering mess of a rabbit. “Thanks for stopping by, Springs,” the newbie said cheerfully, returning to work as if nothing happened. “I really appreciate the company.”

Springtrap loomed beside the poor soul. He watched for a look of dread, but nothing came. Battling the pain, he turned the chair to face him.

“What’s the matter, Springs?” the newbie asked, finally sounding concerned. “Am I doing this job all wrong?”

Springtrap leaned towards the guard. He stared them down to the best of his ability. Why… did this one think… he was “pretty”?? He was supposed to terrifying! Absolutely nauseating, given the “friend’s” reaction! Oh, yes, he heard the excuse all right. Loud and clear. But was it a lie to tell oneself or was it a genuine delusion? Even if it was the honest truth, then what could possibly—?

“I know this is a bad time to ask,” the guard said, interrupting the furious tension, “but where’d you get such haunting eyes? I don’t think any of the old Freddy’s animatronics had that kind of glow to them.”

Springtrap blinked. Well… That.. was better. An absolute shame he had no idea how to answer that.

[rae-raewrites]

Could i request hcs of a yandere arkham aslyum Riddler with a psychiatrist darling?

Anon this like the best request requirements like, yes! Psychologist s/o! Yes all the way!

(Gotta use an assault on Arkham gif for this one because the green bean doesn’t show up physically in game🥲)

Arkham asylum riddler yandere hcs

Warning: yandere behavior,kidnapping,possessiveness,stalking,gaslighting,forced closeness,mentions of death

He doesn’t bat an eye when he hears through the Arkham grapevine that he’s being transferred over to another psychiatrist,he’s probably the patient with a record of making the most many doctors quit due to becoming a “problem”

But then he gets taken to your office by arkham security and gets the surprise of his life,a clean newly decorated office. A newbie? Now? With him?

Was sharp trying to get you killed? Was he the entry test?

But then he actually meets your bright smiling face and he’s enamored.

An extremely intelligent graduate fresh out of GSU.

His first session with you starts off with him testing the waters like he does with all his previous psychiatrists. When you actually guess one of his riddles right he genuinely feels his heart skip.

After that session he starts actually being excited about going to see you now. Wanting to see how far that intelligence goes. He also asks one of his informants on the outside to run some checks,your rather interesting aren’t you?

That’s when his possessive qualities start to strike out. Trying to extend his time with you past your allotted hour,he starts scaring the guards to leave him be with you a little longer.

You’re convinced he’s getting better

Of course when you find a book of riddles all scribbled in on your desk,that you know you didn’t put there,you get concerned.

Your next session you bring it up but he just sits their smirking playing innocent.

“Now why would I be out of my cell? That’s definitely against the rules,after all, you said I’m getting better aren’t I?”

A few days later one of your patients ends up dead. zsasz somehow got his hands on a knife. And then another death,and another,and another.

Arkham upper management sure as hell doesn’t give a crap to look at your concerns

Which leaves you all to him. The other rouges backing off a while ago of course

Your sessions at this point getting increasingly more intense. You mention Batman’s name once and he’s enraged.

“Keep that slimy cheater out of your mouth!”

So call it a surprise one night when you’re getting ready to go home and there he is,sitting on your desk with everything. His costume,his cane,everything.

“Hi diddle diddle,time for a riddle~”

Let’s just say the next few months are not well….

Constantly flirting,manipulating and testing his way with you becomes the regular occurrence for a couple of months. Making you come with for crimes,constantly sneaking pecks on the cheek all while he’s got a firm eye on you. Finally you and him outside of that hell hole! Now you don’t have to wait to have a session with him!

Of course the threat of everything you love being ended is always on the table,he’s made elaborate traps dear,he isn’t afraid to hook anyone you love up in them

At one point he kissed you so deep you accidentally moaned. He was practically ecstatic for hours!

“Edward I didn’t mean…..!” “No no my dear I understand well. My genius is rather attractive isn’t it?~

The only reason it took the detective so long was because Edward kept leaving clues that lead to nothing,he eventually got too cocky leading him to go back to Arkham.

By this point you left your dream job,your degree a danger now but unable to move out of Gotham now due to gcpd witness protection. Batman promising he wasn’t coming back.

However a few months later your freedom certainly doesn’t last as you come home to find a riddle on your bed.

[ragingbookdragon]

Shadow & Light

Simon "Ghost" Riley X M!Reader

Word Count: 1.6K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Hi, I saw someone in a search somewhere say there wasn't enough Ghost x M!Readers so I will remedy it <3 -Thorne

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

Ghost couldn’t really call him a kid. Hell, he was only a few years younger than Soap was. But he was the newbie on the 141 and hadn’t seen a day of fighting in his life. Wet around the ears with nothing commendable in his file but a college degree and a few years working at a police department where Ghost suspected he was the janitor and not an officer. Ghost had no clue in hell why Price even got him selected for the team. He wasn’t even special forces of any kind. Just a seemingly plain human being. Cowardly too, he’d concluded. Ghost had watched Soap do training exercises with him just to see how decent he was, and the entire time they were in the ring, the newbie evaded every hit and never once struck out. The newbie couldn’t even fucking fire a gun correctly without shaking. Ghost and Soap had ultimately decided if there was ever a chance that would bring the newbie to battle with them, they’d die if their lives were in his hands.

How wrong he’d been.

It had only taken a week of running the newbie ragged before Ghost took the issue to Price; the Captain didn’t even look up when he barged into his office and, “The kid’s gotta go.”

“Why’s that?” Price asked, lifting the coffee cup to his lips, acting as if he had no idea why Ghost was pissed.

“He’s shit at fighting. He’s a liability. We’re fucked if he’s ever on the mission with us.”

He nodded in agreement. “True statements. He has no self-defense skills besides basic training and is potentially a liability.”

“Then why? If the 141 is made up of the best of the best, why is some fresh newbie here with us?”

Price looked at him. “Have you even sat down and talked to him? And I mean talk, not as Ghost, but as Simon. One human to another?”

“No.”

“Might I suggest trying that route?”

“He’s useless, Price.”

“To you. But you haven’t seen his abilities yet.”

“Like what?” Ghost scoffed. “Being a complete moronic coward?”

Price grinned and waved him off. “You’re dismissed Lieutenant.”

Ghost wanted to argue but his Captain’s voice booked no room for arguments, and he grunted, turning on his heel and slamming the door behind him.

***

Ghost avoided the newbie like a plague. Let Soap and Gaz deal with him whenever he had questions or training. He was going to stand his ground on the issue, and he knew Price was going to agree and let the newbie go at some point, but for some god forsaken reason the kid stuck around despite it all.

He watched though. And he had to admit, what he lacked in ability and skill, he made up for in personality. Everyone liked him. He smiled and laughed and joked and brought a brightness to the team that Ghost hadn’t seen in quite some time. The 141 was men and women whose friendships were forged in battle and yet this kid, this useless newbie, brought out a light in their darkness. Ghost didn’t trust him, but he did respect him for it. He'd managed to get himself stuck on weapons cleaning with him though.

***

“Thanks for volunteering to help me clean equipment, Lieutenant,” the newbie said, dragging an oiled rag over the gun. “It would’ve taken me forever to clean all this by myself.”

Ghost’s hands had frozen on the knife he’d been sharpening, eyes narrowing as he connected the dots of the sudden shift in rotation of cleaning duty. Price. He thought and glared at the blade as he continued to sharpen.

“Sir, can I ask you a few questions? Nothing personal, of course, just…some things I’ve been wondering.”

Ghost grunted.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He racked the pistol a few times with a practiced ease, something that caught Ghost’s attention as he put the gun back together and disassembled the next with expert hands. “You don’t talk much. Not super friendly either. Then again, I understand the necessity of arm’s length in a job like this.” He started oiling the rag. “Why don’t you talk?”

Ghost saw his reflection in the silver of the knife. “If there’s nothing to say, why speak?”

“Hmm…you speak when you need to, quiet all else.” He continued wiping the gun down. “You remind me of my father. A man of many deeds, but few words.”

Ghost had watched him rack the gun again and put it together before starting on the third and that’s when he decided to ask, “How do you know how to clean weapons?”

The newbie looked up, eyes wide. “Huh?”

“You can’t shoot for shit, yet you can take apart and put together a gun in less than a minute.” Ghost carefully adjusted the knife in his grip, the motion not going unnoticed by either, especially when the newbie’s eyes flickered down and back up. “One chance,” was all he warned.

“Well done, Simon,” he chuckled, setting the gun down before reclining in his chair, hands behind his head as he leaned back. “It’s only taken you two months to figure out.”

Ghost watched him, eyes narrowed carefully.

“Name’s Renegade, at least that’s what the CIA calls me when they need me.” He seemed extremely nonchalant about admitting he was a spy. “Laswell’s my aunt. Adopted aunt of course, but still family. When I was looking for a transfer, she offered the 141 as a new station.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” he replied. “I’m counterterrorism, Simon. I hide away in secret places, slowly picking at regimes for information until I can stand back and watch them crumble internally. This little group seems like the perfect place to hide and run around with.”

“You’re a rat.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps. But I’m a well-paid rat who sleeps at night knowing he does what he’s supposed to.”

“How many innocents has your intelligence killed?” Ghost questioned and Renegade gave him a look.

“Probably as many as your hands have.” He waved a hand. “I’m not here to be liked Simon, and believe me, it’s obvious you don’t like me. You act like a constipated teenager the way you ignore me. Almost as if you like me.” Standing, he didn’t even flinch as Ghost did too. “But I am here as a counterintelligence officer under Laswell and Price, so you’ll just have to deal with it.” Ghost stood in his way of the door, and he simply tilted his head in exasperation. “Really? You’re gonna threaten me?”

“Oh no,” Ghost warned. “I don’t make threats.” He raised the knife, pointing it to Renegade’s throat. “I’m watching you.”

Renegade stepped closer until the knife dug into his skin and he flirted, “Oh, Simon, you can do more than watch. My door’s always open.” Winking, he bypassed Ghost and walked out of the door and Ghost threw the knife after him, planting it in the wall. “Missed me~”

***

The door slamming open startled both and Ghost griped, “You did not tell me he was fucking CIA.” His eyes found Laswell’s and he pointed at her. “He’s your fucking nephew, isn’t he?”

“What’s he done now?” Laswell sighed.

Ghost scoffed, throwing his hands in the air as he looked at the two of them. “You brought more CIA into the 141? Are you out of your fucking minds? He cannot be trusted.”

“Why’s that?” Price asked.

“Because there isn’t anything stopping the CIA from going rogue and doing fuck knows what because they feel like it. What if an offer of enemy secrets comes up in exchange for one of us? You really think he wouldn’t take it?” he glared at Price. “Really?”

Laswell sat up. “Renegade’s not a traitor, Lieutenant.”

“Right, as if the CIA isn’t a giant fucking organization built on traitors.”

By this time, Renegade had wandered up behind him. “No, Simon’s got a point. The CIA is notorious for having traitors in their ranks.” The three jumped as Renegade stepped inside and handed Laswell a file. “I don’t think your Lieutenant likes me much, Captain Price.”

“No shit,” he retorted and looked at the two of them, one glowering, the other a flirtatious smirk on his face. “Both of you, get out. Go sort this out somewhere I’m not. Simon, he’s here to stay. Renegade, if you lie to us or turn, I’ll pull your heart out your ass myself.”

“Duly noted,” Renegade commended.

“But Cap—”

“Go.”

***

Ghost stomped down the hallway with Renegade on his heels, and he could fucking feel the smirk on the spy’s face as he strode. “You really don’t like CIA, do you, Simon?”

He spun, backing Renegade up a wall as he growled, “Do not call me Simon.”

“Everyone else knows your name, Simon. It’s no secret.”

“My friends, know my name. You don’t know me.”

“I know everything about you,” he replied with a secretive smile. “I could probably tell you more about yourself than you even know.”

“You’re barking up the wrong fucking tree,” Ghost warned, slate eyes narrowed in coldness.

“Oh, I don’t bark,” Renegade countered. “Barking is for dogs who want attention. I bite. Much like you do.” He tipped his head to the side. “You’re like Batman, Ghost. Thriving off the fear of your prey. If they’re terrified of the shadows, you have the upper hand, but I am your Hal Jordan, Simon Riley. I am the man without fear, and I am not scared of you.”

Ghost glared at him, then the anger left his eyes, replaced by a stony indifference as he stood up straight; without a second glance, he left Renegade leaning against the wall, the spy’s words replaying in his head over and over and over again.

Oh ho, how wrong he’d been.

[ishouldbedoinghw]

You Can't Erase Me

One Piece fanfic, part 10: Calico Jack

Previous parts are in my pinned masterlist.

A woman enslaved by the celestial dragons is found by a man with red hair. Angst and comedy ensues.

A/N: Y'all know the drill. This chapter is the one that inspired this entire story. I was driving and listening to this song when a great idea that I really hope doesn't suck exploded into my head. Also I finally got a new computer since I've been working a couple of jobs this summer before moving back to college.

Also I would like to preface this chapter by saying this has a good bit of dancing described in it. The only experience I have with dancing is country western swing dancing and white person line dancing. It might be bad. Dead dove do not eat.

TW: Bad descriptions of dancing and music, thirsting over a vampire, alcohol consumption, drunkenness, Shanks

The first swig from Maria's bottle was, frankly put, fucking terrible. This was the crap Shanks was always chugging?

As I spluttered, trying my best to hand back the bottle before I dropped it, Maria and her friend were giggling behind polite hands.

"Never had liquor before? Traveling with Red-Hair? And I'd bet money on you being almost ten years older than the two of us."

Almost ten years? How young were these girls? How old was I?

"Listen, I had some health problems, alright? And how old do you think-"

Maria's hands shot up in surrender. "Sorry, didn't mean anything by it, we didn't know."

Her friend, still slightly giggling, took the bottle from me and took a swig herself.

"Look, this stuff is cheap, so it isn't about tasting it, you've gotta just let it be nasty and focus on what it's doing to you." She handed it back to me, her long nails curled around the bottle neck.

It tasted just as nasty the second time, but at least I was prepared for it. I swallowed it quickly, doing my best to keep a straight face.

As Maria took the bottle back to hide it away, her friend started to study me, clicking her tongue occasionally. My face burned a bit at being studied again, and it made me wonder if I really looked as good as I felt.

"Maria, you really don't miss, do you?" She laughed, and started to head back down the hall, seemingly satisfied. "Let the newbie know what her big job is tonight, and have her watch during the first couple of songs, so she at least doesn't go in blind."

"Yeah, yeah," Maria called back, shaking her head. "A control freak, that one."

Fiddling with the lace on my corset, I watched Maria finish adjusting herself in the mirror. After she seemed satisfied, she beckoned me to follow her as she went down the hallway after her friend.

"So- what is it that I have to do, exactly?" I ask, nervously gripping my skirt, trying to adjust to walking in it.

"So, every week we have a night where we do the Calico Jack- one of the older, tougher girls is picked to find someone in the crowd to dance with to a song about running off with a pirate." She stopped to adjust a strap on one of her shoes, and I almost run into her. "I personally don't see the appeal in it, and neither does Delilah, but it always brings in a big crowd of rowdy men who pay plenty money to drink and feed their egos if the girl picks 'em."

"That's why we get a grown woman to do it, too- in case a fight breaks out over who gets picked, the dancer doesn't get hurt." She continues. "We try to stay away from the really wild ones- we had a big ginger muscleheaded prick get upset a while back, his blonde boy-toy or whatever had to drag him out."

My mouth had gone quite dry at this point, though whether it was from the liquor or my nerves I wasn't quite sure. I had to dance with a stranger? Hell, I don't think I'd ever danced before. My plans for tonight were to maybe dance with Benn, and then to just listen to something other than the crew's terrible singing. And yet, here I was, painted as a doll ad about to be strung up like a puppet because of some old woman I didn't even know.

"Do I-?"

"Yes, you have to do it, I'd like to keep my room and my nice-paying job, thank you very much." Maria was trying to sound confident and relaxed, but I could see the sweat starting to bead on her neck and face. "Listen, no one would question it if you just picked Red-Hair, and you'd likely avoid a fight that way too, no one would argue that he's handsome and powerful."

I started to argue about calling Shanks anything other than annoying, but I stopped myself- I couldn't deny she had a point. No one would recognize me as the girl he came with, and he was powerful enough to avoid confrontation with someone else. Shit, she might've just given me an easy way out of this mess. I would just get the one dance over with and-

"Of course, before that dance, you've gotta join the rest of the tavern dancers since we're short one."

Of course.

She shoved me, clearly seeing my face. "Listen, it really isn't as bad as it sounds. For whatever reason, the boss has faith in you. She doesn't just drag random strangers out of the crowd- well, at least not all the time." She said with a laugh.

As we neared the end of the hallway, I was expected to be met with some kind of music, or lights like before. Instead, the dance hall was dark and quiet, with only the light hum of hushed conversation. Maria was gripping my shoulder, and I could see her straining to get a glimpse of something off to our right. I tried to follow her gaze, but all I could get was dim outlines of figures, and the flash of something shiny reflecting the dim light of the hallway.

As Maria's grip tightened, chills shot through my body. A whisper from the right made the room a silent vacuum, and I strained to hear the words.

"Hickory, oak, pine and weed-" A small flame flickered in the distance, lighting up the face of the old woman who'd woken me up. Delilah. Her voice was softer, yet somehow stronger when she was singing. Perhaps it was the lack of grouch. A drum was the only instrument playing, only hitting one note to make a beat.

"Bury my heart underneath these trees-" My body froze, waiting for the adverse reaction I'd had when Emily had been preforming.

"And when a southern wind comes to raise my soul-" She drew out the last note in a slight vibrado, and I found myself wondering how the hell I knew that.

"Spread my spirit like a flock of crows." I saw the flash again, and as I focused, I could make out someone holding a guitar, a sleek, slim version of the one Yassopp owned but couldn't play.

"'Cause I loved ya for too long, I loved ya for too long," Her voice was getting stronger, and louder, the den-den mushi in front of her picking up more sound.

"I loved ya for too long-" She held the last note in a vibrado again, holding it out until she was nearly whispering again. Her voice was admittedly beautiful, if not a bit haunting.

"Old heat of a raging fire, Come and light my eyes Summer's kiss through electric wire- But I'll never die-"

The stage lights all came on at once, showing off just how massive it was. A full band stood to the left of Delilah, while a handful of the girls I'd seen earlier were standing to the right, all with their own den-den mushi. On the same beat, as Delilah shifted to a full belt on the end of "die," the girls burst into operatic backup vocals, and the band started playing at top volume. The drum continued at a slightly faster pace, and the guitar strummed at a slow, steady pace to match it, contrasting the passionate voices of Delilah and her choir.

"Sycamore, ash, moss and loam Wrap your roots all around my bones And when they come for me When they call my name Cast my shadow from a bellow's flame-"

Chills ran up my spine, and my heart seemed to seize in my chest. I panicked, thinking I would pass out again, but my breath remained steady, and my mind clear. What the hell was going on?

"Cause I loved ya for too long I loved ya for too long I loved ya for too long So let the storm come-"

My body trembled, my mouth was dry once again, and the back of my neck was coated in a sheen of sweat. My heart was pounding against my ribs, my eyes watered, and I wanted to scream.

"Old heat of a raging fire Come and light my eyes Summer's kiss through electric wire But I'll never die I will never die You can bury my body but I'll never die-"

It was the best thing I could ever remember experiencing. Like a piece of me I'd been searching for ever since I woke up on that damned ship had finally come back.

I loved music. I've always loved music. I could feel it in the depths of my soul, in every bone in my body.

My entire life, I have always loved music.

The way Delilah ripped through the vocals was a storm tearing through the fields of my mind. Every sound I could make out on that stage rocked me to my core.

Watching Delilah's passion was almost as good as listening to it. Her eyes seemed to be gleaming like fire, and she spit out every word as if she had lived through the song over and over again, like she'd truly meant all of it. I'd believe it if they said she was an immortal deity from her stage presence alone.

Her boots stomping caught my attention as she transitioned to the bridge. All instruments but the drum had stopped playing again, and I could hear the thunder of voices in the crowd join her.

"In the dead of night I'm gonna loose these chains Mmm, I'm gonna run and run and run and run and run I'm gonna run and run and run and run Coming for you again Oh, coming for you again-"

The instrumental that followed blew me away once again. I never knew someone could make the instrument Roux purposefully hid from Yassopp sound so damn beautiful. Leading up to the last run of the chorus, Delilah was screaming her vocals, and a new chill ran through my body.

I need to do that one day.

All I wanted, with my entire being, was to be singing these songs with as much passion as she did, in the hopes I could feel something other than fear, anger, or shame.

As Delilah sang the final chorus, she spread her arms, letting her large coat that had been hanging over her shoulders fall to the ground. She was surprisingly muscular for her age, and-

Holy shit, she didn't have any hands.

Her arms ended at the wrists, and were webbed in a messy array of scars. The crowd screamed at the reveal, whether out of fear or something else, I couldn't quite tell.

Maria started to cheer at my side, startling me. She started shaking my arm and bouncing up and down, still yelling her ass off. I didn't pay much attention to it, distracted by Delilah's performance. It wasn't that her lack of hands was a shock in itself; I'd seen where Shanks had lost his plenty. I simply wondered how in the world she'd slapped me so effectively earlier.

"You ready?" Maria yells in my ear, her voice fuzzy with all the noise.

"Ready for wh-" And she shoved me in the direction of the stage as the room grew dark again. I flailed about and stumbled a bit, before one of the male dancers, a dark-haired, freckled young man, caught my arm.

"Newbie, right? You know the Mull River Shuffle, yeah?" He hooks his arm in mine, pulling me to the opposite side of the now empty dance floor.

"The fucking what-"

"Yeah, Maria said you might not, don't worry, you just gotta follow my lead. You dance some, yeah?"

"No-"

The guitar starts a faster rhythm than before, and the lights flash on again, making my vision spotty. My partner squeezes my arm, catching my attention before he starts moving around the floor with the other dancers in a wide circle. The more we moved, the slower and dizzier I felt we were moving. The steps I took to mirror his were clumsy, and my neck burned in shame at how stupid I likely looked.

"You know, Maria failed to mention she got you drunk as hell." What?

"I'm not-"

"Not even the clutziest of kids are so unsure of where their own damn foot is. You're thinking way too hard, you've gotta trust yourself. The liquor is supposed to take away fear, not grace."

I'm not sure why I giggled, and as we paused to turn and move the opposite direction, my body still felt it was moving around.

"I'm about to spin you towards the middle, don't puke." He was irritated now, and I felt terrible. He hadn't asked for a shitty partner tonight, yet here I was. I just let him sling my body around, and I grew a bit lightheaded at the speed.

"That wasn't half bad, think you can go faster?" The relief that flooded me was almost overwhelming, and I couldn't help but giggle again. I'm not sure why the little phrase had made me so happy.

Trust yourself.

The words rang in my ear as the tempo of the song picked up again, and the group of dancers split down the middle, my partner shoving me gently to line up opposite him.

As everyone stepped toward the middle again to meet their partners, I did the same; although I was half a stride behind them. My partner made up for the time, quickly spinning us around and pushing me in the direction he'd come from.

The more I relaxed, and the more I let myself move and spin and step to the music, the more fun I let myself have. This wasn't exactly what I had in mind when Shanks had made me leave the ship, but I had to admit to myself that I was actually having a great time.

"Told you, just let go." He was smiling at me now, and I couldn't help but excitedly smile back.

"You know, I've never danced as far back as I can remember." I wasn't sure why it felt so good just to talk for the hell of it.

"Yeah, I could kind of tell that when we started."

I giggled again, then had to catch my breath as he spun me around again.

"Yeah, I don't think I've ever had so much fun."

It was his turn to laugh then, before we split into two lines again. He didn't have to push or pull me this time, and I was able to keep up with the pace of the rest of the line.

As the song ended, he pulled me over to Maria, who was still standing off to the side of the stage.

"You've got to stop giving me the drunk ones, man." He elbows Maria in the ribs, and she laughs, shoving him away.

"It looks like she got the hang of it by the end, be grateful she didn't vomit on you or something, Zutsu," she said, reaching over to fix my skirt.

"We've got Rove and Go next, you know that one?" Zutsu asks. "I'm not sure where the hell you came from, but I don't know anyone that doesn't know the Rove."

For some odd reason, I felt I did know the song, like it was some common knowledge that was ridiculous not to remember.

"Maybe? I'm not sure-"

"Good enough, maybe it'll jog your memory when you hear it." He pulled me back to the dance floor, into a line of dancers that snaked through the entire hall. "Listen, I usually take the lead on this one, but we'll stick to the back to keep you comfortable."

And keep me from embarrassing you. I couldn't even bring myself to be upset, Maria made it sound like the quality of performances were held in high regard by everyone here.

The tempo of this song started much faster than the last, the drums kicking in at full volume, followed by a fiddle that was one of the sweetest sounds I'd ever heard.

It was the first line of the song that sent a cold shock down my spine, and made sweat cling to my face.

Why shouldn’t she go she’s only ninety?

Delilah held out the last note of the line, and my skin grew clammy. I knew this song. I was sure I'd known this song almost as long as I had loved music itself. My hand shook in Zutsu's, and he squeezed it, muttering, "Don't puke yet," as he started stomping his feet on beat with the rest of the dancers. As if they had a mind of their own, my feet did the same.

I know the dance. I could remember every movement to the dance Zutsu was about to lead me through. I could hear it in my head, to the rhythm of the song, in counts of four.

Stomp, shuffle, stomp, shuffle-

Scoot back, back, back-

Away from your partner, back to your partner-

Holy shit.

"Look at you, you do know this one." Zutsu says, loosening his grip on my hand.

I wanted to cry, puke, and laugh all at once. I used to dance. I had to have grown up dancing. To my disappointment, I couldn't remember any more dances offhand, but it did little to stifle my excitement.

Every step, every dip, and every spin made my heart feel as it were flying through the sky over the bright ocean, free as a wild bird. I was addicted to the dizziness, the breathlessness, and the feeling of my body moving with the music. This, right here, was something I'd been born to do. I felt it in my soul the same way I'd felt when I heard Delilah sing. My body, mind, and spirit felt at peace, and I felt like I had some kind of purpose other than being the crew's fragile pet.

"Hey-" Zutsu's voice cut through my thoughts. "During the bridge, when the fiddle goes crazy, we don't keep in line, we'll split off and start two-stepping around the audience, try to get them to dance, yeah?"

"Oh- alright, got it," I said quickly. Relief swept through me as I realized I knew exactly what he was talking about. Two-stepping with a partner was one of the most basic skills I'd learned when I was just a kid- how I knew that, I had no idea. I couldn't picture memories so much as feel it, my mind trying to grasp some physical evidence that wasn't there.

Zutsu pulled me to face him, and he kept his back in the direction we traveled as we kept a fast paced two-step. I fell into the rhythm he set easily, and almost wept at how at home it all felt: the fast pace, the grip he had on my hand, and even the burning in my right calf and left hip.

"You had to have been holding out on me before," Zutsu laughed, guiding me in an impromptu spin that had a small part of the audience cheering. "You dance as naturally as you breathe when you know what the hell you're doing."

I giggled back, heart soaring at the compliment. It made me want to try more, to do something other than-

"You wanna try swing dancing some?" He asks, as if he read my mind.

I nodded eagerly, my heart pounding again as I recall the term, knowing exactly what he meant.

He pushed me out and away from him, before pulling me back in. I knew the steps by heart, I could feel them in my feet and fingers as I ducked under his arms and spun behind him, before twisting around as he caged me in his arms. He spun me around as fast as I could twice, before finishing with a dramatic dip, my "hair" nearly touching the floor.

"Please tell me you're sticking around after tonight, you're the first partner I've had that could move so damn fast."

I clicked my tongue, looking up at him with a twinge of disappointment. "I'm honestly sorry, but I'm just passing through with a group of- with a crew," I finished hastily.

He raised a brow. "Red-Haired Pirates, right? I'm pretty sure I saw you come in on the captain's arm."

I grimaced at the notion my disguise hadn't worked as well as I'd hoped. "I- yeah," I muttered weakly, sheepishly looking at the floor.

"Don't sweat the whole Emily thing," he shrugged, and did his best to wipe a few droplets of sweat from his cheek. "I only knew it was you because I've been staring you in the face, and I was close by when they dragged you backstage. No one in the audience will be able to tell." He poked me playfully. "Not even your Calico Jack of the night."

I groaned at the mention of that stupid dance. "Why do I-"

"Please don't get me booted from this place by answering that honestly. I'd hate to say anything untoward about my boss and her- interesting notions."

I decided not to press the issue, and to take comfort in the fact that Shanks was here for me to make an easy pick. I was also itching with curiosity to hear every song of the night, and to see if I could recall any more dances.

I wasn't sure my legs could take another step as the song finally ended. Zutsu made sure I took a long swig of water and sat down for a minute before disappearing backstage, leaving me with a very bouncy and tipsy Maria.

"That was- burp- incredible!" she shouted, throwing an arm around me. "No offense, but I thought it'd all go to shit."

I grimaced, choosing to focus on the compliment. "Yeah, thanks."

"You knowwww- the next dance is allll yours," she giggled, then nearly knocked me over trying to wave at one of her friends.

My mouth went dry. Already? I thought I'd have a couple more dances to get more comfortable, maybe figure out something simple to start the song with.

"Don't even sweat it, baby, you'll do great." She fixes one of the stray curls stuck in the top of my corset. "Plus, you look great, so it won't even matter."

Her reassurance did little to ease the nausea building in my gut.

---

I'll never forget the song that echoed through the room next. It wasn't anything spectacular, like the operatic section of the first performance. It was just a small tradition in a dance hall that would one day outlive me. But one moment in that song changed my life forever.

The Calico Jack song was an old ballad about a young lady running from her abusive marriage to live on the sea after meeting a handsome pirate in a tavern.

Of course, the only thing I knew at the time was that I had walk around at least once in the room, and pick a partner before the first chorus of the song started playing.

"It was a borin' Evenin' Down at the tavern My husband left for sea again And I was sick of waitin'-"

The song started, and I could feel my heart in my throat as I started my walk around the room.

All you have to do is walk once around and then to Shanks.

My steps felt too loud, the room was too big, and I was moving too fast, not really paying attention to who was actually there.

Look up, look up, look up, look up-

I tried to convince the crowd that I was looking, studying for the most eligible one there. I couldn't convince myself into thinking I was giving a good performance, however. My heartbeat grew louder as the audience cheered when I walked by, and I gave a weak smile, trying to look like I knew what the hell I was doing.

"Sick of drinkin' And thinkin' And questioning my measure Then suddenly A breeze came through the door-"

And then I caught a glimpse of him.

The most beautiful man I could ever think up in my head was sitting on the outermost edge of the crowd, sipping a glass of wine. He had a feathered hat that hung low over his face, but it wasn't enough to conceal his eyes- bright gold, with rings of orange, the strangest eyes I'd ever seen. His hair and beard were nearly black, but against his pale skin I could see the slightest tinge of brown. He was all sharp angles; high cheekbones, a sharp jawline and nose, even his facial hair was shaved into neat lines.

"He was smilin' Blindin' The pirate, Jack Rackham He tipped his hat and that was that I was in love with him-"

I would've liked to say that the great golden sword leaning on the table was what I saw next, but I couldn't. His large coat was ornate and expensive-looking; it was also completely open, his torso completely bare, save for a large golden cross hanging from his neck. Damn. That's all I could think- damn. He was, with no other way to put it, absolutely gorgeous.

And the little, nagging, tempting thought that I both curse and thank God for to this day wouldn't hush in my head. Ask him to dance.

And I wanted to. So, so, badly did I want to walk right up with all the confidence in the world and ask him to dance with me. It felt as if my entire body was burning at the prospect of even looking at him again.

"Oi, over here, Spooky!" Shanks was in front of me now, grinning and waving like the idiot he was. I mustered a weak smile back, quickening my pace and trying to ignore the feeling that the entire room was watching my every move.

Benn had to reach over and keep Shanks from standing to pull me into a hug, which I thanked him for with a polite smile. Yasopp was trying his best to make me lose my composure with stupid faces, and I was failing miserably at keeping my lips from twitching.

Maria was giving me a cheerful thumbs up, Zutsu and her blonde friend, whose name I really needed to learn, by her side as I passed around a second time. This round, I couldn't help but look for the beautiful man. Half of me hoped he wasn't there, and I wouldn't have to worry about getting up the courage to ask him anything, but the other half would have been crushed if he was gone.

He was still there, still sipping from his wine glass, in the exact same position as before, and still as devastatingly gorgeous.

Ask him, you'll regret it if you don't.

Yeah, sure, and embarrass myself to pieces if he refuses me.

I paused for an instant, hearing what sounded like the first line of the pre-chorus from Delilah. Shit shit shit shit shit-

I had to hurry along, or I'd make a fool of myself regardless of who I picked.

Shanks. I'll just go to Shanks. Maybe Benn, if he's too drunk.

But my feet carried me, trembling, to the man sipping his wine.

"Calico Jack Calico Jack I've never met a man here looking like that-"

Still trembling, I held out my hand. His eyes seemed to cut into me like knives, and he didn't move.

But neither did I.

The room had gone silent, and all I could hear was Delilah's voice and the band. Beads of sweat gathered on my forehead, and my hand faltered slightly. I did my best to give a polite smile to him, praying he would hurry up and either refuse me or take my hand.

"Calico Jack You've met your match Calico Jack Won't you give me my heart back-"

I started to turn away, ready to just ask Shanks, or piss myself, whichever came first, before I felt it.

His hand wasn't particularly warm, and it was rough with calluses that I presumed were from the giant sword sitting beside him. His touch was tentative for a split second, before committing and fully grabbing it before standing.

Damn, he was tall. I was eye-level with his collarbone, and was trying my best not to gawk at the chest below it when he gingerly grabbed my waist. I jumped at first, forgetting why I'd come up to him in the first place.

"Your friends have been trying to get you to back away since they saw you looking this way. Should you have listened?"

As bored as his tone sounded, his voice melted me like butter. Fuck. This was embarrassing.

"I just- it felt right to ask you," I blabbered, trying to avoid eye contact with him.

He let out a hmf before stepping closer toward me. I snapped out of my trance at the proximity, and hurriedly stepped out toward the dance floor, pulling him with me. Maria and the rest of the dancers were in my peripheral, all looking as if I'd died in front of them.

Was it so hard to believe I could get a good-looking stranger to dance with me? I'd thought that at least Maria had some faith in me.

We settled into a fast-paced rotating two-step, and as we passed around the room, the audience grew rowdy again. I hadn't realized my decision had held so much weight here, but perhaps the little custom meant more to people here than I realized.

I dared to look back up at his face, and instantly started to sweat again as his gazed pierced through me. Shit, he was even more beautiful up close. He'd taken the lead in the dance now, and surprisingly, held himself with the grace of an experienced dancer. Judging by his looks, I could have guessed he'd waltzed or something fancy like that at some point in his life, but he didn't seem the type to be in a dark, noisy place like this. Nor did he seem to be the type to take part in dancing recreationally as a whole.

Too nervous to say anything directly to him, I offered him my best version of a pleasant smile. He remained stoic, but I could have sworn I saw the corner of his mouth prick up.

I was trying my damnest to ignore the lovely shape of his lips when he asked, "What's your name?" it was a piss-poor, stiff attempt at being polite, but I appreciated it nonetheless.

"Jett."

"How lively."

I hummed in response, unsure of what to say.

"Your first dance tonight was... interesting to watch."

Oh, that was mortifying. My face burned, and I could feel my palms growing sweaty.

"I, uh, I'm new here, I hadn't danced in a while, and-"

"You were drunk?" The corner of his lip was quirked up again, just barely noticeable.

"Yeah, but-"

"And now-"

"There's no need for you to be an asshole," I muttered, my embarrassment reaching my tongue before common sense could hold it.

He gave the impression that not many people stood up to him with the way his brows furrowed just slightly. Thankfully for me, he also seemed to want to keep his composure.

He liked being in control.

Perhaps it was the lingering effects of alcohol that made me gather the courage, but that one slip in his stoic expression made me determined to make him crack.

Perhaps a small part of me wanted to see him really smile.

"So- you've been watching me tonight?"

"Don't flatter yourself."

"That didn't answer the question."

"Please, if I wanted to watch someone drunkenly stumble about, I wouldn't have come all the way here." He was trying so hard to stay grumpy, it was laughable.

As controlled as his expression was, he had one fatal tell- those pretty eyes. And they seemed to like to shift the slightest bit down every now and then before looking me in the face again. There.

"You know, you might think my dancing is subpar, but you certainly don't mind peeking at my-"

His grip tightened on my waist, although his face remained neutral. Leaning down, the brim of his hat grazed my temple.

"You are the last one who can make any comments about any sort of inappropriate glances, dear." As he withdrew, he brushed a stray curl over my shoulder.

I hated that he was right, and his touching wasn't doing much to help my case.

Neither was that very open coat that revealed a little more of his waist each time stepped with his right foot. What was somehow more impressive was that he was completely unfazed by dancing. I was sweating and aching, and a few annoying bits of my "hair" kept sticking to the back of my neck.

As thrilled as I was at the chance to dance with such a handsome man, I couldn't help but think it was such a pity he turned out to be so glum. Witty, certainly, but still a bit sour. To be fair, I also couldn't judge him based on his attitude, as I also wasn't exactly sunshine and rainbows.

We were actually quite alike, I found, as the dance ended, and the two of us were promptly pulled aside by a very loud ginger man. It seemed the both of us were equally as annoyed by him.

"Oi, Hawkeyes, I didn't know you had that in you," Shanks was slightly slurring his words, but still remained perfectly upright.

Hawkeyes? Oh, shit-

I'd just danced with the world's strongest swordsman, a fucking warlord, Dracule "Hawkeyes" Mihawk.

[angelspathway]

The trainee.

(Not my gif)

Note: this is the first shift from content. I hope you guys like. I kinda threw this together, so it’s short.

Graduating from training was easy enough, but finding a higher power to work under was even harder. She had been searching ever since she graduated from her training, which was more or less 5 hours. Her feet ached and pulsed as the cold concrete ground touched her bare feet, shivers running up her spine. Only being alive for a few days in Heaven made unused to the coldness as she trailed down the endless hallway. She did ask aziraphale, a brief professor of hers in her flight training, if she could possibly be his little apprentice, but he was helping design humans for a new planet, thus being too busy to even train her right now. He did point her in the direction of Heaven's most prized possession, saying they would very much appreciate the help with the creation of Earth;

Raphael, the starmaker.

She just had to find where he worked. Let's see... "follow the light trail to the beam path and you will be able to fly right into the room." aziraphale had explained to the newer angel and then watched as she shuffled away awkwardly. The young angel followed the slater's words carefully and ended up in a light trail that she hoped led to the angel that would accept her assistance.

A wave of a cold and slightly suffocating air smacked her out the beam of light, into a realm of light. She lets out a small whimper, rubbing at her arms. "Raphael!" she called into the empty space, floating around a bit, slightly off balance. The air was thinner and less stable for her to be able to stand on. She took a shaky step, immediately falling. It felt like she was floating, before a hand grabbed her hand in their cold ones. "Gotta use your wings, newbie. There isn't gravity in here." he wore a warm smile as he pulls the angel upwards towards him. "You do know how to use them, right?"

He still wore that warm smile as his cold hands squeezed hers with the intention of reassurance incase the younger angel didn’t know how to produce her wings. Thank the almighty that she did or she might embarrass herself in front of the higher up. She produced her wings, skinnier and smaller then the angel in front of her. "Now, why have you come to visit me in the middle of a workload?" he questioned, his eyes shining brighter then the stars he created. The starmaker was an elder angel, but a kinder one, like aziraphale. He seemed naturally curious and innocent, making him popular among the younger angels. At least, this angel in front of him believed so. She unconsciously messed with the sleeves of the older angel's robe trying to remember why she was here.

"Oh... a job.. I was wondering if I could train under you for experience for my assignments?" her voice was soft and her eyes widen when he gave a quick nod.

"Of course!" he exclaimed, bringing the angel into his side and taking her along. " I do need to show you all the basics, but I would appreciate some help around here!"

So, the younger angel worked under the starmaker, quickly becoming rather close to Raphael. She talked about him all the time with some of her friends. Raphael took her everywhere with him and the trainee followed him like a little pet, obeying his space. She had earned all his respect by the time he disappeared and the galaxy was closed down from any other angel entering it. She remembered being interrogated intensely about her Faith in the Almighty’s great plan and her wings be inspected thoroughly for any impurities. She retained her innocence, worrying for her boss's safety. She was transferred to Aziraphale’s training program, not being promoted with the rest of her friends and having her put under restrictions. The higher ups claimed it was her’s and Heaven's safety, but she has been Aziraphale's trainee for 6,000 years.

She never knew why this happened or where her former boss was currently.

To be honest, it might break the poor angel's heart. Don't cha think?

[tarrenterror25]

TARREN 💕 IM SO SORRY I KEEP FORGETTING TO SEND ASKS FOR SPOOPY SEASON

If it's not too late for the Fear Lounge I was hoping for a smol drabble for Yandere!Alfred (for me and C). Make it as dark as you'd like!!

And what spoopy movie you'd recommend to a newbie horror movie watcher! I'm thinkin of dipping my toes into the pool 👀

🕸️ Caught! - Send in a character with a prompt/theme and I will write a drabble for you! (Less than 500 words) 📼 Scary Movie - I'll tell you what horror/Halloween/fall movie I'd watch with you!

Fear Lounge

Hi H!! You made it just in time and oh dear 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

I had a scene thought out for this request, but as I started writing it uh...took a turn and I know you said make it as dark as I'd like, but I'm still worried this is too much 😩 I went with the more obsessive side of yandere 💀 I was inspired by movies like Prom Night (2008) and The Resident (2011). I hope you and C like it!! 💕💕

Yandere!Alfred Pennyworth x (Implied)F!Reader

Tags: stalking, masturbating (male), yandere, mention of dubcon/noncon actions

It’s as soon as Bruce leaves that Alfred does his own moonlighting of sorts.

As the Dodge Charger roars out of Wayne Terminus, Alfred makes his way to his desk in the open concept foyer.

It’s just a few clicks to pull up what he’s looking for; pictures and videos of you from the Wayne Tower security cameras.

Alfred admits he was ashamed for lusting after you, but he’s in too deep now. There’s no going back.

He lets out a soft sigh as he undoes the button and zipper of his pants.

There’s a camera that overlooks directly above your desk at Wayne Tower, during the day he often watches you work. Sometimes he gets a nice view down your blouse depending on the angle you sit at.

Alfred begins to stroke his cock to the sight of you. He’s always such a well composed man, but you, something about you sets him off, makes him…unhinged.

All the things he’s done to get close to you; finding excuses for him to call you, brushing his hand against yours, or insisting you join him on errands for Bruce.

As he touches himself, his other hand retrieves from his pocket a pair of your panties. He couldn’t help looking through your bag that day when he saw on the cameras that you had left your desk. He doesn’t know what possessed him, but he rummaged through your belongings and found the garment and pocketed it.

He strokes his cock faster now. God, he’s so hard from just thinking about how you make him come undone. He imagines that fucking you would ruin a man to pieces. Oh, how he longs to feel you from the inside; wants to rut into you until you’re full of his come. He bets you’d look stunning underneath him.

“God,” he breathes out before bringing your panties to his face and deeply inhaling your scent from them.

He adjusts them in his hand and wraps that hand around his cock so he’s stroking himself with your panties. He uses his free hand to navigate the pictures and videos.

You make him absolutely insane.

His hand moves faster and his breath hitches in his throat.

He wishes he had more courage to approach you in person, but words fail him when he’s around you. You’re so beautiful and his throat tightens when you walk near him; the way your hips move, the scent of your perfume as you walk by, the way your eyes look from under those lashes.

He comes with a sudden gasp and jerk. He releases his spend into your lacy garment, moaning softly as he watches it soak up his come off his cock.

Maybe he should give them back to you like this. You would never know…or you might. He isn’t sure which idea he likes better.

Alfred cleans himself up and looks to the pictures of you on his computer screen.

His gaze slides over to a file on his desk, a file he asked you to bring to him first thing in the morning. You won’t be able to find it and well, he’d be remissed to not help you.

There are soooo many options in my head for what I would recommend as a horror movie if you're just getting into them, but I gotta go with a classic that (to me) feels well rounded enough to introduce someone to horror!

With you, H, I'd watch-!

It is a SUPER fun and neat horror movie. It has some intrigue, supernatural elements, and some blood and guts, but the tone of the movie is very light and spooky rather than doom, gloom, and gore. One of my besties and I have a tradition of watching it EVERY year because it's just a classic. It's got a little bit of everything! Plus, I think there are some scenes you'd really like!!

[crplpunkklavier]

got messaged by a cis guy on a kink app couple months ago, dude was straight-ish but in the process of rethinking the label bc he'd just figured out that he's really into trans bodies. specifically if they're hairy. so needless to say he's crazy desperate to fuck me. and it's cool, he's good about it, u know, he's clearly done his own research and doesn't ask me anything invasive, he's respectful he watches his language he lets me speak. i go out of my way to make clear that the reason im on the kink app is that i like bdsm. he's like yeah yeah yeah that's so hot. says he's been wanting to try bottoming. i let the non sequitur slide. he's a newbie. sure ill top him. he buys me coffee. he tries to bone down after that first meeting. i ask him for an assessment of what all he wants to try for our first time. he gets all quiet. texts a day later to say that maybe he'd prefer to start with vanilla because, translated quote, "maybe i am shy." i get it. dude i do. but i gotta look out for myself too and im not gonna be having sex i don't enjoy just to be nice to a random guy. so i text back that thats understandable but that he also has to understand that im gonna be bored and i don't wanna be bored. how about basic impact or bondage. nothing high maintenance. i can bring the material i can take charge ive been missing domming anyway. he goes no no no ill do it ill tie you up. i tell him alright ill bring you a selection of ropes, you can do simple knots, i have scissors, and if you have any questions please reach out.

never heard from him again.

men are fighting the saddest battles out there. send post.

[swedebeast]

So, I've been sitting and stewing on something for a week - and I've talked to friends about it and I've managed to mostly get over it, but it still bothers me - and I think I'll just give an incomplete re-telling here of social encounters, rudeness, lack of respect, and me feeling betrayed by one of my close IRL friends.

And all I wanted was to have a few beers and play games.

Story is that for some time I have been planning to host a TTRPG of "you all play 4 level 0 peasants each, no heroes are around, and you gotta clear the cave of goblins - whoever survives turns into a level 1 hero", and there'd be beers involved. A genuine beer n' pretzels game

What ended up happening was that one of my gamer friends, also a close friend whom we can call Mister P, said he could get people interested in trying it out, also newbies to the RPG stuff. He managed to get two people from his job - a place I worked at for a couple months as well - and we would play at one of their houses close to where I live. Mister D, and Mister R. Mister R is hosting.

Turns out I actually remember D, and we got real chummy. This was a boys' meet-up, we drank beers, joked, had fun. Crude jokes, no filters - they all knew each other since before and their favourite pass time was to joke about how they would fuck each other's mom. All in good fun, that sort of crowd. This all lasted about 8 hours, with the game only starting about 2 hours into it.

And then what happened was that Mister P took it upon himself - while we all sat at the same table - to coach me in social etiquette. I talk too much about myself, I was told, and I was implied to be rude. I did not ask about other people when they talked about something to show interest in them, and that would come off as elf-absorbed and so on and so on, and it fit with a neurodivergent pattern. And he knew all about it - because he has ADHD!

And there I am, not expecting a one-man intervention, and even Mister D gave off a "Awkwaaaarrrd". We had good laughs, and I was telling my dear friend very politely, and this is not sarcastically, that I came there to play games and have fun, not to be "outed" in front of strangers on something that isn't even true, as the guy was very much implying I was autistic. And I know I was checked for it as a child, but I had doctors tell that I did not have it - at worst I had "traits" of it.

And of course, we play tabletop games and I collected Warhammer, so statistically I would have a case of the 'tism, but I told him I did not appreciate what he was doing. Oh, he said he did it because he cared about me, he is a friend, and we all can be honest at the table with friends. And then he proceeds to suggest we should ask the other two at the table if they agree on my behaviour.

I flat out refused, because I have no interest in putting them on the spot, and if they are so bothered by my behaviour, I trust them to be adults about it and let me know. And Mister P then goes on, it all goes all over the place and just things he brought up bothered me greatly. He and another friend talked about me, we all talk about each other after all. He mentioned a mutual friend that, when he talked about his mother passing away, I brought up my mother-in-law had died. Just bringing up examples of "transgressions" I had made - and I do not see myself in what he is describing. And I gave it an honest think. I thought reeeeal hard about what he was saying, and I remember the topic came up, but I was not dismissive. I said it was an awful thing, but what I DO remember that when his father-in-law passed, I also brought up my mother-in-law having passed away. I do not even remember what he was talking about, our mutual friend talking about his dead mother and I instantly blathered about my mother-in-law instead, as he suggested I did.

But what this... friend, does not know, is that I have long discussions with our mutual friend when he is not present. We have talked about those topics at length. And I told Mister P that I am not interested in hearing him talking about that anymore, because I did not ask for this. But then he brought up a thing that happened last year, in that he swung over and talked to a neighbor I had - and I went to grab things as we were going elsewhere - and he learned that guy was mad as hell at me for not cleaning the shared laundry room once (and this was something I only did once, having not read the small note what it was about) - and my friend Mister P then tells me the guy was "going to beat you up", and it is the other side of the same coin of what he is trying to do. Looking out after me.

And I am furious at that point. I did not call bullshit on him, I was not interested in fighting. It died down, he brought it up again, yadda yadda.

And what bothers me so much is that this "friend" was more than able to criticize me, but not Mister R - our host. Cocky, arrogant, the kind of man who is around 40 - thinks he is hot shit because he is a manager of 10 people at a customer service company and "doesn't care what other people think at this point". Once the game got going, I could explain the game and Mister P would interrupt me and talk over me, and them two would flat out not hear me and have their own conversation when I was doing the Game Master thing and explain the game and describe the situation. But then came the other thing that bothered me, perhaps very much so in the context of me being the only one getting an "education". We all joke, and I bring up, and ask, if anyone gets random friend requests from old classmates. Mister R says no.

And me, in the spirit of "your mom" and "holy shit, your brother pranked you and potentially emotionally scarred you when you were 4 - he's a boss!" (that was a statement at my expense) floating around - with a smile - I ask if it is because he is friends with everyone already, or because he's so unpleasant.

"Be careful calling me unpleasant when I am friendly enough to have you in my house", with a sneer, says nothing else.

I apologize, apparently that touched a nerve. I make a joke, and get threatened to get kicked out of the house, and I am needing an impromptu course in social graces in a room where people have 20+ times made remarks in the vein of "yeah, your mother knows my vein"and my joke about him - choosing to answer for himself - if he is nasty -or- friends with everyone he knows?

Not sure if I took everything to heart, but I did doubt myself severely after that. We continued being social. Got home at 3 AM, got a ride (despite the multiple remarks from the corner of the eye of Mister R that I "didn't need the ride"), and the day after I was on the couch for almost 5 hours, doing nothing.

I don't know if what I felt was valid, or thinking too much, worrying too much, deflecting, not seeing genuine problems with my behaviour - but I know I work very, very hard to include everyone in a conversation. I make everyone feel a part of a group, I ask the quiet person something so they can chime in, I avoid touchy subjects not to upset people, I put in the conscious effort to be friendly and a warm person to be around. I am not oblivious to other people. I am not a self-absorbed person.

And all I felt there was that this one guy, who cannot fix himself, took it upon to try and fix me because that is all he can accomplish. I am furious, upset, sad, feeling betrayed and wracked with doubt. Now, when I talk to people? I spent days wondering if what I was saying was natural, or if it was this guy speaking for me? I am just so thankful I had people online I could talk to. Ask for opinions, check things up, confer in and draw examples. "So, I was going to say this but I didn't, would it have been awkward?" And they all said no.

Favourite response was "Fuck, the right answer there would have been 'your mom knows how unpleasant I am' - he couldn't take a joke".

I am getting heated as I am writing this. Fuck knows if this is outing myself, because this isn't the first time someone has said that they suspect me of having Asperger/Autism. And to be frank, ever since I was a kid and had that label thrown at me, I have had a complicated relationship with it. Sometimes leaning into it and accepting it, others chafing at the label and completely rejecting it.

And now I wonder if this thing is going to define me, overshadow everything else that makes up the person that I am - or if it says more about the people that care than about me, making a hen out of a feather, and not accepting what would just be a little quirk of personality if it didn't have the word "disorder" tied to it. I still haven't decided on that one.

What I do now know however is that I will struggle hard not venting with shared friends about his behaviour, and that I will severely limit my interest in hanging out with the guy when alcohol is involved. He said he wants honesty, but I do not think I can have that conversation again and not raise my voice at the man. Maybe that's what's needed to make people understand that a line has been crossed, but I would rather he respects me when I tell him "no" in a calm manner.

[violet-femme]

uhhh who wants cowboy smut? 2,000 words worth under the cut.

I desperately needed a break after dancing for a half hour straight. My hair was fluffed up, my face pink from exertion. You look cool as a cucumber though, black cowboy hat, gold chain, quiet swagger to spare. We ended up dancing side by side and I’d be lying if I said my black handkerchief had fallen out of my pocket entirely by accident. To see your smile and outstretched hand gave me butterflies as I tucked the hanky in my right pocket. DId I imagine you smirk? I rushed to find water at the start of our break, but now I see you, leaning against the bar, unabashedly looking at me. I struggle not to turn away, embarrassed by the attention. Instead, I return your gaze and walk slowly to meet you. If my hips sway a little wider and my eyelashes flutter as I rake your form, you’ll have to forgive me. 

“Howdy,” I say when I’m within your earshot. “Thanks for picking this up.” I take the hanky out of my pocket and make a show of wiping my brow. 

“No problem darlin’ anytime. I haven’t seen you around before. Are you a first timer?”

“Not quite, this is my second time.” 

“Well, I gotta tell ya, you dance awfully well for a newbie. I’m impressed.”

I feel myself turn even more red at the praise. “Aw thanks, I love to dance.”

We introduce ourselves and are a bit closer than two strangers in a bar. 

“Any chance you know how to two step?” you asked me. The song had changed to something slow and sappy. “I’d love to dance with you.” You hold out a hand, and build yourself up to your full height.

“Someone taught me once, but it’s been awhile.” I take your hand, “You’ll have to lead.”

You pull me to the floor, still looking at me. “Of course, sweetheart.” 

Your hand wraps around my waist, while I wrap my right arm over your shoulder. We’re close, but not close enough for me. 

“Ok, so it’s left, together, left, right.” You show me slowly by guiding my body backwards, stepping toward me. 

I have to look at my feet to make sure I don’t step on you, but after a few steps you say, “hey, eyes on me.” WHen I follow directions, you smile wickedly. “Good girl.” I nearly stumble as I feel heat building up in my core, but you hold me tight and keep me moving. 

“I thought you might like that…” Your smile is wide and hungry and your eyes burn into mine. 

I pull you in a little closer, so our bodies are pressed into each other. It’s my turn to smile wide, as I find out you’re hard packing. 

“You didn’t wear that just for me did you?” I ask coyly.

“Maybe,” you say, “If you’re interested.”

I can tell you’re a little hesitant, not wanting to come on too strong, but I respond by kissing you. Hot and open-mouthed.

“Oh I’m interested.” I say, dragging you off the dance floor toward the back of the bar, where there’s a single stall bathroom that’s calling our names. 

I look back at you, your pupils wide, teeth showing in a broad smile. 

The bathroom is empty, thank god. I had every intention of pinning you up against the door as it closed, but you beat me to it, grabbing me, pressing me against the wall and returning my dance floor kiss, with the same intensity. I kiss you back, slipping my tongue in your mouth. Suddenly, you pull away. 

“You sure about this? We can stop at any time. “ Sincerity showed on your face, beyond the haze of lust. I cradle your face in my hands and nod enthusiastically. 

“Use your words, baby.” a shiver ran through my spine and I practically moaned, “ Uh-huh.”

“That’s a good girl.” 

I can’t contain myself and I bring your face to mine and continue kissing you, messy and hot. You take off your hat, placing it safely aside. 

Your arms wrap around my waist, your weight still pinning me to the wall. I move my hands down to your chest as your mouth makes its way down to my neck. When you find yourself at the juncture of my neck and shoulder you don’t hesitate in biting down. THe moan of pleasure comes from my mouth unbidden.

You kiss gently where you just sunk your teeth. 

“Yeah? Little Miss Black Hanky likes a little pain with her pleasure? What a surprise.” 

We both laugh and I run my hand through your close-cropped hair, which you lean into, closing your eyes. 

“I wanna touch you.” you mutter, eyes locking in on mine. I take one of your hands and guide it from the small of my back to the fly of my jean shorts. 

“Go ahead.” I say, moving to undo the button and the zipper, only for you to take over, shooing my hand away. 

You reach your hand under the waistband of my lace panties and dip your fingers into my cunt. 

“Mmmm, so wet already, huh?” you’re grinning at me. Without warning, you slide a finger tip over my clit, sending a wave of pleasure through me, tossing my head back, and breathing in sharply. 

“You’re gonna be loud, aren’t you gorgeous? I can tell already.” You take my mouth with yours, and circle your finger around my clit again. 

I moan into your mouth, and I can tell you’re smiling. “This is gonna be fun.” you mutter. 

You continue working your fingers over my clit, listening to my cries, paying attention to what causes a reaction. With your other hand, you reach up under my shirt to grope my breasts. 

I break the kiss to breathlessly ask, “Please, your fingers.”

“Already begging? You want me to fuck you that badly?” you tease, but your fingers immediately tease at my entrance, before pushing in. You watch my eyes roll back and my mouth fall open, and I hear you moan in return. 

“So good, uh, so fucking good.” I gasp as you attack my neck with your mouth. 

“You’re gonna come soon aren’t you, doll? I can feel you clenching.” I nod furiously and try to grind my hips into your hand. 

“That’s it, fuck yourself into my hand, take what you need.” I’m breathing heavily now, whining and moaning.

“Come for me, baby, be a good girl and come for me.” You keep a steady rhythm fucking me and circling my clit and I come with a cry that you muffle with your hand. 

“Shhhh, good girl, good girl.” you continue as you fuck me through it. You remove your hand as my cries quiet and replace it with your mouth, kissing slowly and heatedly. 

I pull your hand out of my panties, and move to unbuckle your belt. 

“I want your cock, baby.” I reach into your pants and pull out your strap, big but not intimidating. 

“Well then, we’ll have to get those shorts off then, won’t we.” Your voice rumbles in my ear and your hips grind into the pressure of my hand around your strap. 

I quickly strip the lower half of my body, and you wrap your arms around me and lift me up onto the countertop. 

“You ready sweetheart?” my legs are spreading wider for you as you take your cock in your hand and close the distance between us. I’m nodding enthusiastically but you give me a look and I automatically say, “yes, sir.” 

You grin with abandon. “That’s right.” and you drag your tip through my folds. I shudder head to toe, and plead again, “Please, please fuck me.”

“You ask so nicely, darling, who am I to deny you?” and you push into me in one thrust. 

I feel my eyes rolling back into my skull. The moan that escapes me is filthy. Your hands are grabbing onto my hips, preventing me from grinding down too much. But that doesn’t stop me from trying. I’m clinging to your shirt with one hand, bracing myself on the counter with the other. 

I nearly lose my mind at the feeling of you stretching me out. My mouth is wide open, but my eyes are locked onto you. You stare back at me, watching my face contorted in pleasure. One of your hands moves from the counter to brush my hair back from my face. We stay still for a couple of seconds, until my hand loosens its grip on you. I nod heavily and you start fucking into me. 

As you move, you cover my mouth with yours, capturing my moans as they become more desperate and feral. 

“You like that? Huh? Does it feel good?” you murmur against my lips. Without hesitation I nod more. 

“Tell me baby,” you sound smug, “Use your words.” your pace slows a bit, your hand cradling the back of my neck. 

“It’s good, it’s so good, don’t stop, please.” 

You pick back up again and keep your hand supporting my head. You’re moaning and grinding your cock into me, mouth attacking my neck. I’m melting in your grasp, that familiar tension building in my core again. 

“I need, I need…” I plead, not sure how to finish the sentence. 

“What do you need, baby? I’ve got you. Tell me.” God you sound so strong and confident, I have no choice but to believe that you’ve got me. 

“I need, god,” i moan again, “...to touch my clit, fuck, please.”

“Take what you need darling, I want you to feel good.” you guide my hand, still clutching at your shirt, down to relieve the ache.

The sensation of your strap stretching me out and my fingers rubbing my clit is almost too much. 

“Taking my cock so good, you’re a fucking vision, you know that?” you’re moaning in my ear, rough and snarling. I groan, quickly getting closer to the edge.

“Please, please, I’m…”

“That’s right, beg for my cock sweetheart. Beg for me.” You’re fucking into me harder, grinding your hips into that sweet spot in my cunt. 

“Fuck, keep fucking me, god. Please, just like that. Just like,” I cry out, “Fuck i’m coming.”

“Yeah? You’re coming for me? Such a pretty girl, coming on my cock. C’mon ride it out darling.”

You sloppily kiss my neck, keeping up the pace until I grab onto your shoulder, causing you to pause. You break from my neck and look me in the eye. 

“You’ve had enough baby?” I swallow and nod, a little embarrassed. Your eyes are soft and caring as you brush my hair out of my face and pull out slowly.

“You were such a good girl baby. Did that feel good?” you’re cupping my face, a genuine look of concern on yours. 

“Yes, yes god yes.” I sigh heavily, “so good. Sorry i’m just a little, uh…” I chuckle self consciously.

“Not used to hooking up in a bar bathroom? Yeah me neither. But you still liked it?”

“Yes, yes. You liked it?”

“Oh I loved it baby. I was right, you were fun.” Your wolfish smile soothes me and I feel a little more connected to my body. I take a deep breath.

“Do you want your shorts back?” Your hands are skimming my body gently, rubbing circles on my back.

I nod and you step back to retrieve them. I expect you to hand them to me, but you guide my legs into the fabric and help me pull them on. 

“Are you alright?” Your hands return to rub up and down my arms, “you look a little spooked.”

“Yeah, I think it’s just a bad come down.”

“What do you need?” you genuinely seem concerned. 

I hold my arms out to embrace you, and you return the gesture. 

“You did so good, darling. So good.” You tilt my chin up so you can kiss me, deeply and sweetly. 

I feel myself start to relax. 

“Hey, do you want to go back to my place? If you’re comfortable,” you say, “I want to, I wanna treat you right.” You’re looking deep in my eyes, vulnerable and hopeful. 

I nod, a grin spreading over my face. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Alright, well, lets go,” You reach over to retrieve your hat, “let’s hit the road cowgirl.”

I laugh and we join hands and exit the bathroom, to find a few people waiting in line, a little perturbed. 

“Whoops,” you say, “sorry folks!” and you whisk me away.