#which is hilarious considering I’m telling you that about yourself

[leoesparte]

No wait, let her cook

If you had to recommend an exercise or other sort of “thing an aspiring writer should do”s what would it be?

jumping jacks are good full-body cardio and you can do a hundred of em in like two minutes and then get back to work

[dumpywrites]

Wanna See My Cat? - Min Yoongi / Suga

Prompt: “Do you wanna see my cat?” You're not actually lying but he thinks it's a sexual innuendo.

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, situationship-ish

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

a/n: I was contemplating on whether to actually add smut to this but I decided not to cause it's cuter this way and I think we could all agree there're plenty of bts smut but not enough fluff here! :D

Situationship was a funny concept. Either you commit or not, that was what you believed. Which was why you were not precisely proud to say that you was now in fact in one. 

In your defense it had only been what, three? Four weeks? A month or so? Min Yoongi was this nice guy your acquaintance introduced you to. Gentle, could be hilarious when he wanted to, and cute. Although he could be a little emotionless at times, mostly he was a really sweet guy and you liked him a lot. In your other defense, you did not believe what you had with him could be called as a situationship. It was just what your friends had been teasing you about. 

In the whole time of knowing him, you had been to total of three dates. The first being a casual “are you free for dinner after work?” kinda date, second a movie date, and third being a very chill cafe date. And in your opinion, you enjoyed all of them, you had the greatest of time chatting and spending quality time with him. But your friend kept teasing you otherwise. 

Apparently your dates were considered too boring, too innocent for today’s dating world standard. You had not even had your first kiss yet and one of your friends was already asking about his size. Evidently, wanting to take things slow was a crime nowadays and you were lowkey getting annoyed. 

Today though, your park date was cancelled due to the rain. You kept cursing to yourself at home when you saw Yoongi’s text telling you to do a literal rain check, seeing the thunderstorm. The outfit that you bought especially for the occasion failed to see the outside world. 

As you stood in front of the mirror, seeing the reflection gave you a weird idea. A small Siamese cat walking past your feet, meowing adorably. Your pet cat, Zuko. A cat whose existence wasn’t known by Yoongi yet. The lightbulb above your head lightened up. 

“Do you wanna see my cat?” You sent the text. 

**

Yoongi texted you to let you know that he had arrived at your place. You recalled last time he picked you up it took him around fifteen minutes but this time he only took ten. You wondered what made him arrive a lot quicker. 

You were giddy with excitement and took a screenshot to tell your friend. Instead of being excited and giddy for you, your friend sent a bunch of side-eye emojis. Well, they could be just teasing you but the chat bubble following afterwards had you wondering. 

“Woo! Give me a rating score later!!!” 

You crooked your head in confusion, but there was no time to ponder on your friend’s riddle when Yoongi was already waiting for you to open the front door. 

“Hey.”

That hey definitely did not have to sound that deep and hot. You had to gulped your saliva down upon seeing him in his comfortable clothes. Since when did wearing sweatpants and baggy t-shirt looked so good? And did he just had his hair cut or was it just you? So many questions pilling up in your head. 

You knew it was game over when he went in for a hug. Heavenly was the only words you could use to describe his smell. It was a mixture of his shampoo and his laundry detergent, and his intoxicating smell. It seemed like he didn’t even use any perfume. 

“What should we eat?” You said while smiling giddily. 

“I’m kinda craving some instant ramen?” He looked at you while lifting a shopping bag filled with a few packets of noodles. 

Your eyes beamed. “That sounds really nice actually with the weather and all.” 

“Alright cool.” He nodded. “Let’s cook?”

Yoongi was being extra touchy. You were boiling the water and he would swiftly grab the chopsticks in front of you from behind, making you feel his chest. You fully knew well that he could easily grab the utensils without doing that, but for some reason the demons were working hard at the moment. He even leaned his chin over your shoulder as you were chopping some sausages. At this point he could be doing it on purpose for all you knew. 

He did not stop when you both started to eat. From the smooth wiping your lips from food to feeding you. Who was this person and what had he done to Yoongi you might never know. 

Right after washing the dishes and escaping a few of Yoongi’s teases, you both chilled on the sofa. As you browsed through Netflix, you could sense him scooting closer to you. You could feel his body warmth that automatically made yours grew hotter as well. 

“What are we watching?” He asked with a husky voice. By this point he was hugging your waist and rested his body weight on you. 

“I was thinking some action? You love those right?”

“I do.” 

You paused. Why was the tone of his voice sounded slightly off and why was he looking at you funnily?

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He broke into a small smile. “Nothing.”

“Stop or I’ll make you watch Puss in Boots!” You whined. 

And then it hit you. The cat! You were too busy being swayed, head in the clouds, fantasizing, that you forgot why he was initially visiting you in your apartment.

“My cat!” You exclaimed loudly, which made Yoongi jumped and sat back up from his position. 

You missed the look of confusion in Yoongi’s face as you ran quickly to your room to pick up the furball in your bedroom. 

“I can’t believe I forgot about him!” You chuckled with your pet now in your arms. “He doesn’t like roaming around, he mostly sleeps in my room.”

Yoongi just looked at you, quizzically. As if he could not believe his eyes. 

“Meet Zuko!” You smiled, proudly showing your cat. “Zuko, meet Yoongi.” You giggled and shoved the cat to the man’s hands. 

He stared at the cat blankly for a good few seconds before gently petting the creature’s head. 

“Uh, hi.” He said, sounding lightly awkward. “He’s actually really cute.”

“I know right!” You grinned. “Do you wanna hold him?”

“Sure.” He said, sounding a little unsure. 

The man sat down with your cat on his lap, slowly stroking the soft white fur of its tiny body. You bent down, sat on the carpet on his knee level to pet the cat. Somehow seeing you smile lovingly at the cat made Yoongi’s lips curled into a soft smile as well. 

“You’re adorable.” Yoongi said. 

“He’s the cutest cat, I know.”

“No, I mean you.” 

“Oh.” You shyly looked away, hoping the nervous giggles did not give it away. “Thank you.” 

Yoongi chuckled and huffed a sigh. “I can’t believe there’s actually a cat.”

“Huh?” You crooked your head to the side, wondering what the guy meant by that. “Of course there is? What do you mean?”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He laughed. “You don’t know?”

“Uh, no?” 

He ruffled your hair and laughed again, this time a little bit louder than before. You were still stunned, too confused to process when he quickly pulled you in and kissed your forehead. Suddenly you did not want to protest about how messy he just made your hair. 

“It’s alright, maybe next time.” 

You covered your face with both of your palms.  “What’s with you today?!” You said with your hands still covering your face. 

“I like you.” He shrugged. “Might not be the most animated guy out there so I’m just letting you know.”

“Yeah, which is why I’m so confused with you today???” You said with flushed face. “Oh my god, that’s not the point though! I like you too!”

He chuckled. “Let’s just get back to the movie?”

The vibe after that conversation calmed down. Maybe it was the whole letting-the-cat-out-of-the-bag thing on your feelings making the air less thick. You ended up just cuddling, snuggling to each other while watching The Notebook. You both hated romance movies, but somehow finished the entire movie anyway after you misclicked it in the first place. It was nice and warm being in Yoongi’s arms and you were afraid you wouldn’t want to ever let go. 

And it was finally time for him to go home. Crazy how you did not notice the time went by so fast. Heck, you didn’t even notice the screen was already playing another movie. How could you when Yoongi was caressing your hair ever so gently? Goodness gracious. 

“Hey, I have to go now. Meeting in an hour, remember?” He tapped your shoulder. 

“I’m not letting you go.” You whined, hugging him tighter. 

He laughed. “Silly, I can come again tomorrow.”

You sat back up and looked at him. “Really???”

“I mean yeah, you don’t have work on Sunday, right?” He smiled. “If you want to, that is.”

“I want to.” You giggled. 

He flashed his gummy smile one more time before getting up from your couch. You walked with him to the door and waited for him to grab his jacket. The whole time you were stalling, asking him the most random questions, and made the silliest remarks. You just didn’t want him to go home yet, especially after finding out that he liked you too. 

“As much as I’d love to talk more about how much I disliked the whole education system, I really have to go now.” He chuckled. 

“Okay.” You pouted. You watched as he got up from tying his shoelaces. 

He huffed a sigh and smiled. “Come closer.”

You did as told without thinking and in a quick seconds, somehow you were pulled into a soft kiss. It was a soft peck and you could feel his smile through it. He didn’t gave you a chance to react as he swiftly let go. 

“See you tomorrow?” 

“Come on…” You whined again and covered your face in awkwardness, and he could only laugh at you. “Go! Before I lock you up!”

“I’ll text you.” He waved and you finally closed your door. 

You found yourself giggling and smiling to yourself like an idiot. This was new. Whatever in the fresh hell was that, you couldn’t lie to yourself that you were into this somewhat bold and flirty side of him. 

You casually walked back to your couch and switched the tv to youtube. As you let random science podcast video play, you decided to check your phone, realizing you had not text your friend back yet. 

“What do you mean by giving a score?”

Your friend replied almost too immediately. You were shocked to see the usage of caps lock. 

“YOU DON’T KNOW??????!!!!! WTF???”

“Okay, explain?????”

“Poor Yoongi has to deal with your dumbass 😔” 

“Shut up 🖕🖕🖕”

“It’s a code. You say that instead of asking to come over and have sex. Basically the new netflix and chill.”

“… okay. OKAY???!!!!!!”

“Bestie, did something happen though??? 😍”

“SO THAT’S WHY HE TOLD ME HE WAS SURPRISED THAT THERE WAS ACTUALLY A CAT???? OMFGGGGGG!!!!!! ASFDKSPSKSG 😭😭😭”

You put down your phone to muffle your tiny scream with your knuckles. You recalled him mentioning a next time. Then you also recalled him wanting to come over again tomorrow. Needless to say, it was finally time to let out that one cute underwear you had been keeping in your drawer for months.

Thank you for reading! 🐈‍⬛💕

[mv1simp]

Into It ♥️ Part 2 of 3

Max Verstappen x Girlfriend!Reader

and she don’t really like it (but she needs me, yeah)

the one in which you’re newly dating your gorgeous boyfriend, max verstappen, after months of pining and flirting. he’s the perfect gentleman, so romantic and treats you just right! now how do you tell him that you’re desperate for mad max to come out and rail ur insides without sounding like a freak 😚

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dom/sub, size kink, Charles used as a plot device to make Max jealous soz, orgasm denial, classic kinky shit, 4k WC

PART ONE HERE ♥️ PART THREE HERE ♥️

That’s how you found yourself on a girls’ night out in Monaco’s new hottest club, downing three shots in a row. Woah, woah girl!! your best girlfriend exclaimed, what’s the occasion? You huffed and avoided eye contact, prompting her to lean in conspiratorially, trouble in paradise with your boy Maxie? This time you glare at her in response and she grins in satisfaction, knowing she's caught you.

A few more shots later and you were drunkenly rambling about your tales of sexual frustration to her, about all the attempts at seducing your boyfriend, all the unfulfilled fantasies. She laughs, so you’re saying you’re upset your boyfriend acts too sweet to you to be rough with you in the bedroom? You nodded glumly, squishing your face against the bar countertop. I’m the worst girlfriend ever. I don’t deserve an angel like max!

Your girlfriend rolled her eyes at your melodrama. Girl, no. We all need to get dicked down hard. You need to be straight up with him. Besides - she smirked - he’s the most chaotic driver on the grid. I’m sure he can provide everything you want and much, much more.

Squinting, you tried to make sense of her words through your drunken thoughts. Logically you knew she was right - you should just tell Max honestly what you desired so badly - but even imagining how he might react when he obviously considered you to be his sweet, innocent girlfriend made you feel too embarrassed, even now. More drinks, you declared promptly. Your girlfriend shrugged, handing you another shot. Cheers to that!

An hour later you found yourself on the dance floor, having the time of your life. Twisting and grinding the night away, initially with your friends but at some point you stumble across Charles and Lando, who had joined your group at the club. Giggling, you threw your arms right around Cha, who you had known from living in Monaco the last few years. Chaaa!!! It’s so good to see you!! You’ve had such a fantastic year in Ferrari, I’m so proud of you-

Charles chuckled good naturedly at your drunk ramblings, wrapping an arm around you to steady you. He made eye contact with Lando, gesturing to his phone, to which the other boy mouthed already on it - having texted Max to come pick up his normally very responsible, well behaved girlfriend who had hilariously gotten far too wasted. Charles guides you away to get you a drink - water, sorry mon cherrie - he sweetly apologises as he takes the beer can you had grabbed instead and replaced it with a clear bottle. You pouted, struggling to stand up straight, and leaned right into him, arms around his shoulders, letting him feel all of you. And he definitely could, given your choice of outfit tonight - a silky long sleeved minidress hugging your body perfectly, with a low cut sweetheart neckline giving the taller man a perfect view of your cleavage. Charles’ eyes widened in surprise - in all his years of knowing you, you had never acted like this before. He reached for your waist again to steady you as you start to lean to one side again.

Unfortunately, this was exactly the picture Max found you two in.

Before Charles could even put a finger on you, a strong arm wraps around your waist from behind, yanking you backwards against a firm chest. You stumbled, confused, and tipped your head up only to come face to face with your boyfriend. Except even in your drunk daze, you could tell your boyfriend looked absolutely furious. You vaguely hear him snarl something aggressively towards Cha - Keep your fucking greedy hands off her - To which the monegasque driver innocently raised his hands in defence, attempting to explain, but Max doesn’t give him a chance as he leans down and tosses you over his shoulder, making you yell out in surprise. Maxie, you gasped as he quickly navigated you out of the club towards his Aston Martin Valkyrie, his fast pace making you dizzy - Maxie, slow down, I didn’t say bye to Cha-

A hard smack on your ass cuts you off, making you squeal and eyes boggle at the unexpected rough treatment. Max had never, ever used his force on you like that. Oh, we’re way past the point of that, Princess. I’m taking you straight home, Max growls as he drops you into the passenger seat, jaw clenched as he clicked your seatbelt in. He tossed a bottle of water in your lap as he started the car and speeds off. You gulp it down greedily, desperately trying to sober up a bit and process where on earth this behaviour from your usually sweet boyfriend had come from.

By the time he parked in his garage, you had started to think a bit clearer and felt nervousness build up, realising you’ve started your first real fight as a couple. Maxie- You try again as you entered the elevator up his penthouse together, Maxie, I’m sorry, I got too drunk- But your boyfriend didn’t even meet your gaze, still staring ahead furiously as you stumbled after him through the front door. You called out again as he stalked off, reaching a hand out to grab his t-shirt and pleading for him to tell you why he was so mad, you had said you were sorry, you just had a bit too much to drink - and he whirled around, letting the full impact of his anger implode onto you.

Why am I so angry? Are you seriously fucking asking me that right now? Max spat, stalking towards you and making you back up against the kitchen wall, doe eyed. What do you think? What would you do if your girlfriend leaves in the middle of the night and you find her fucking dry humping your mate in the middle of a club for all of Monaco to see? Huh? Your eyes had gotten wider with each sentence Max had yelled at you, inching back further and further until you were trapped with the hard kitchen wall to your back, Max’s arms caging you against it as he glared down at you. Maxie, you say guiltily, taking a deep breath to focus on de-escalating the fight instead of the freakish butterflies you felt in your belly seeing his harsh intensity directly focused on you for once. I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have done it and it genuinely didn’t mean, I only want you-

The tall blonde scoffs, rolling his eyes and making it clear he didn’t believe a word coming out of your mouth. Oh, don’t give me that bullshit now, Schat he sneered, his usual favourite nickname for you now said with a bitterly sarcastic tone, making you half excited at the cruel change in his attitude and half panicked because you had never expected he would get this angry at you. You’ve been acting weird for the past month, half the time I swear you’re trying on purpose to delete my sim racing data, and then leaving your laundry all over the apartment when you get mad at me for not putting a single pair of socks away, and now tonight with Charles? Why did you have to act so pathetic and put yourself all over him?

You take a sharp breath in as Max’s words hit you right in the heart. He’s still glaring down at you, arms caging you in and making it clear he demanded an answer from you. His words had shocked you - all your efforts, all the attempts at trying to turn him on had apparently gone completely unnoticed? And instead he just thought of you as pathetic? You couldn’t hold yourself back anymore, your deepest insecurities now coming out given your already oversensitive emotional state after getting so drunk tonight.

Why? WHY? you scream up at Max, unable to control the hot tears that fill your eyes in response to his words. Max flinches reflexively, not expecting you to become so upset, and you shove him away with your full strength. You barely manage to push him back a couple centimetres as he concedes, but that was all you needed to slip under his arms and away from his intense gaze, not wanting him to see the fresh tears that had started dripping down your cheeks now, the tequila in your system amplifying your emotions. Wiping them off, you spin back around and resume your yelling - Well maybe because I wanted to actually make you mad for once, Max! Maybe because I actually wanted you to treat me with the passion and intensity you treat everything else around you, and yes, maybe it was a stupid way to get your attention tonight, but I thought making you jealous would finally make you lose control and just fuck me hard for once!

Max’s startled look is almost priceless, his baby blue eyes going wide like a deer in headlights as the argument takes a complete 180 from where it had been earlier. But you don’t stop there -

So I’m sorry I made myself look like the pathetic girlfriend of the golden boy, Max Verstappen. I just didn’t know what to do! I tried to get dressed up for you in my nicest lingerie, or make you mad at me so that you had an excuse to punish me however you wanted. But apparently it just wasn’t enough because you never noticed and still treat me like I’m some little precious doll that might break, like I can’t handle seeing you when you’re mad or upset or aggressive. So I guess I am pathetic, so desperate to try so hard to seduce you because I just wanted you to be yourself when you obviously just don’t think I’m hot enough to make you desire me in that way -

Woah, woah woah - okay, this deprecating self talk had gone on way too long for his liking, Max thought, as he closed his mouth that had dropped open in surprise as you finally released the tension and secrets he could tell you had been building up. Schatje, he murmured, approaching you gently, all his earlier anger crumbling away as he wipes your tears.

His strong hands grasped your waist and easily lifted you onto the marble top counter behind you, the twinkling Monaco city lights streaming in through the glass panels behind you. You sniffle, still refusing to meet his eyes, so embarrassed that all your feelings had rapidly come out of you like that. Max lovingly tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. For such a smart and accomplished woman, you can be so incredibly stupid sometimes He starts, quickly continuing when he sees the indignation on your face -

So stupid because I can’t believe you think there is any version of me that doesn’t think you’re the most fucking beautiful girl I’ve ever laid my eyes upon, the only woman who has me wrapped around her pretty little finger. You know I would give you the world, schat, all you have to do is ask me for what you want.

I know, you say, sighing miserably, I know you’ll give me anything I want, you treat me so well, Maxie, and I’ve been the one who’s been having all these dirty thoughts every time I see you shirtless or driving on the track.

Max chuckles, his eyes shining brightly and cheeks flushed from your confession about how crazy he makes you feel. You’ve been holding back on me, liefje he teases, gently rubbing his thumbs across your dusty pink cheeks. Tell me, what naughty ideas has my girl been hiding from me? What’s driving you so wild about seeing me drive?

Your cheeks darken as you struggle to come up with a half coherent response despite your weeks of fantasising. I - um, well, sometimes - sometimes, when a race is going bad and you’re getting really angry on the radio and racing so aggressively against the others, it just really, uh, turns me on? you mumble, eyes purposely looking at his toned chest to avoid eye contact. And it makes me think about what it would feel like to have all that power up against me instead, to help you relax by releasing all your energy out on me instead of holding it in…as you trail off you hesitantly look back up, certain that you had freaked your boyfriend out by your inner thoughts. Instead, you find Max’s ice blue eyes locked intently onto yours, swirling with that stormy darkness you had caught glimpses of before.

Schatje, Max says, his voice low as he steps closer into your space, your soft thighs parting to accomodate his large frame. Are you telling me you’ve been wondering if I can fuck you the way that I like to drive? Aggressive and completely in control? You feel your cheeks flush again at his direct question, and you nod in response to his question, squeaking out a nervous yes.

Max’s eyes darken, lips quirking into a smug smirk you had seen many times on post race interviews and podiums but rarely within your home. He jerks you forward with one arm, pressing your soft tits up against his own firm chest, your legs instinctively tightening around his hips as he stands directly in front of you. So, Schat, you like it when I’m getting angry at you, huh? It all makes so much sense now. The way that you’re always biting your lip and squeezing your thighs together everytime I’m arguing in the garage. You look so innocent, but you’re actually just a dirty little girl, huh? acting like the sweetest WAG on the grid - but you’re just a desperate cocktease, aren’t you?

You let out a breathless gasp at the new sense of superiority in Max’s words, a condescending smirk still on his lips. Your ego rises up hotly and you shake your head in defence, Nuh uh, Maxie, that’s not, I’m not-

He cuts you off by suddenly dropping his hands from your waist and instead curling them around your chubby soft thighs, forming a tight grip easily with his large fingers. Doesn’t matter what you say, baby. The proof is right here. He flips your minidress up, exposing the cute white lacey thong underneath, his ring finger easily hooking around thin material and pulling it to one side. There’s no hiding the sheer wetness coating your cute pink pussy, so much so that there’s strands of it connecting to the thong as Max pulled it back. Bingo, he chuckles darkly. You’re squealing at the gesture as your intimate parts go on full display for him, trying desperately to close your legs with your full strength but Max’s bruising grip on your thighs is unrelenting for once. He laughs at the sight, angling his long fingers forward to teasingly flick against the entrance to your core. Your needy little pussy is already dripping for me, huh schat? It got so wet seeing me get all angry and jealous, didn’t it? Did you get even wetter when I yelled at Charles for touching you? Or maybe it was when I had to smack that fat ass of yours to shut your whining up?

Your eyes go wide as you look up at him in shock, hearing filthy words you never thought you would hear from your sweet Maxie. Your head is starting to spin from his deep voice as he continues his teasing with a cocky look. Oh, liefje. I’m going to fuck you so hard tonight you won’t even be able to remember your own name. You’re going to tell me every single dirty fantasy you’ve had, and you’re not going to stop until I’m completely satisfied with you.

Before you can even reply, Max is lifting you up off the counter and into his arms, navigating you both easily to the large plush sofa facing his penthouse balcony and sitting down comfortably. He pulls you on top of him, bringing your still clothed core to rest directly on top of his muscled thighs. You find yourself face to face with his chest even in this position, having to tilt your head up to look at the much taller Dutchman. He grins smugly, the very picture of a Chesire cat as he looks back at you, large palm resting securely on your plump ass.

So, mein liefje? You going to tell me what you’ve been plotting up? Beg me to fill you up and treat you like the little slut you’ve secretly always been? he demands. You bristle at his arrogant tone, not replying to him after you had already made so many embarrassing confessions. But you can’t deny the wetness that keeps dripping from your core, making a mess all over his pants. Your boyfriend notices your stubborn efforts to keep yourself composed and smirks. That’s how you want to play it, love? He croons at you. That’s ok. I can play this game with you. All. Night. Long. It’s my turn to tease you after all the fun you’ve had prancing around in your tiny slutty outfits, rubbing your ass up on me in the middle of the night and driving me crazy having to hold myself back since you couldn’t be a good girl and just beg for it.

And with that he tenses his thighs up into you, bouncing his leg, making you moan suddenly from the blissful stimulation. He speeds up his pace and you find yourself grinding down onto him, eyes fluttering shut as the feeling your pleasure start to build up -

And come crashing down when Max abruptly stills, startling you into grabbing onto his biceps to steady yourself as you almost topple over. Your - loving, adorable, currently irritiating - boyfriend flashes a cheeky smile at you. Max, you whine, but he continues to look at you expectantly and you huff, caving in and gathering the confidence you had left over from your earlier shots.

Your eyes trail down to his chest, one very common thought of yours immediately springing to mind. I guess I really like how you’re so much bigger than me, you murmur, blush starting to return to your cheeks. You’re so big and sooo strong, always lifting the heaviest things easily and I think a lot about how good it would feel to have your big hands on me, holding me down, moving me in anyway that you wanted for your own pleasure. Your hand moves slowly down his front as you speak, and Max rewards your honesty by smoothly removing his shirt, his muscular chest now on display for you. You continue your exploration and trace across his wide shoulders, feeling your heart speed up at the stark difference in your sizes. And, I think about how sexy you sound when you get angry, cause your Dutch accent slips through and makes it even hotter, and I wondered how you would sound if you gave me orders and told me exactly how you wanted me to please you.

Max’s breathing is getting deeper, revealing that your boyfriend is not as unaffected by your words as he is acting. You bite your thick lips as Max’s hands find their way to your ass again, now simultaneously pushing you down onto his leg while pushing his thigh up at the same time. Yeah, schatje? Like this? You want me to show you just how much stronger I am than you, just how hard I’ve had to hold back in case I hurt you?

His fingers unzip the back of your satin dress, allowing it to easily slide off your shoulders, exposing your perfect tits for him while his other hand navigates between your thigh, easily ripping your thong off on one side and pulling it up your smooth leg to let it dangle on your ankle. His hands set the pace as he easily bounces you up and down on his large thighs, making you moan sweetly in pleasure, then squeal as his mouth latches onto your pretty brown nipple that he had been hungrily eyeing. He licks and kisses aggressively at your boobs, leaving a smattering of hickeys as he went and you can’t control how loud your moans get anymore. Ohhh, Maxie, that feels so good~

He bites down on a nipple, then leaves a gentle lick on the bruise he left, and you feel a lightning bolt shoot straight to your pussy at the feeling 💕 He smirks in satisfaction, noticing the blissful expression on your face. Fuck, you like it rough, don’t you baby? Love when I use your little body however I want? You whine in agreement, all earlier inhibitions completely out the window as you’re lost in the pleasure Max makes you feel. That’s all he needs to escalate this again. His hands grab onto your satin dress, this time easily ripping it into two and tossing it onto the floor. You squeal, eyes wide at his casual display of strength as his palms find their way to your exposed jiggling ass, laying a powerful smack on them as you continue to hump his thigh. Oh! Ohhh, Maxie, mhhmm, feels so good!

Max chuckles at your endearing desperation, delivering slap after slap to your quickly reddening asscheeks as you bounce on him. He delivers another slap, this time leaving his hand there to possessives squeeze the flesh while his other hand wraps around your throat to pulls your lips forward onto his. You moan into the sloppy kiss, so unbelievably turned on at this domineering side of Max. His fingers glide across your ass, teasing your dripping heat from behind and you feel your orgasm quickly approaching. You greedily bury your hands in his soft hair as his tongue swipes across yours, when Max suddenly stands up, pushing you off him and onto your knees on the fluffy carpet. You blink up at him, dazed at the change in position, only to find a wicked smirk on his face as he steps out of his pants, letting his thick and very hard erection swing out, his tip landing just in front of your plush lips.

You feel your face flush, because truly you had not gone down on your boyfriend very much at all. He would often be the one to worship you, lounging for an easy three quarters of an hour in between your legs, his tongue lapping at your wet heat. Your boyfriends’ thoughts mirrored yours exactly, and he leaned down, his hand cupping your chin and forcing a thumb into your mouth. You wanted me to use you, isn’t that right? To be a little fucktoy for me, and let all of my stress out at? Go on, schatje, you know what to do.

You immediately began suckling at his thumb, eyes wide, mascara smudged sexily, and looking up at him sooo obediently that he feels himself get even harder. Fuck yeah, that’s a good girl. He swiped his thumb across your tongue before hooking it around one corner of your lips, stretching it uncomfortably wide to the side. Open that pretty mouth of yours, sweetheart. It’s time to teach you how to put it to good use.

You could tell Max was just getting started from the pleased smirk on his face as he watched you get more and more desperate to have him. Fuck, you were in for a long night.

—————————————————————————

A/N: Part 3 is out! Tysm to all of you for the unexpected response!! So glad so many of you liked it, glad I can feed all you thirsty souls hehe 🤭 Comment to let me know what you think cause it’s been a while since I’ve done this! Lmk if you have any ideas/prompts for our manz u want me to write 🫶

[berberriescorner]

“Are You Listening?”

Interlude: “Drinks On Me, Yeah?”

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader.

Summary: Issa Interlude, mama. Expect the unexpected.

Warnings: Profanity, angst, fluff, and drinking-little libation for the one, two.

Word Count: 1,700+.

A/N: My lovelies! My babies! Mama’s back and I got a little sum-sum for ya! Let’s start this weekend with a little Rio and the crew, yeah? Yeah. I want to give so many thanks to all of you sweet lovelies who have been rocking with me this entire time. Most of you know that the past year and a half has been quite the struggle. To everybody who took time out of your day to come and check in on me, please know that I’m appreciative and forever grateful to have connected with such amazing people🥹♥️. Thank you for all the sweet, hilarious comments and asks as well💓. I’m a little rusty, so be gentle with your girl. Enjoy my sweet babies.  Before anyone asks, yes, I’ve been working on Pt. 4😂😏😈.

"Are You Listening?" - The Playlist

Apple Music.

Spotify.

Part One Here.

Part Two Here.

Part Three Here.

Inspired By:

Your body pressed down into the plush mattress as you reveled in the comfort and security of being home. Your mind replayed the image of your mom snatching the door open, the two of you hugging tightly, rocking side to side. You had spent the past week trying to survive final exams and warding off the many questions of, “What’s wrong, baby girl?” The woman who gave you life knew you all too well. Sensing that her youngest baby was struggling, her attempts to get you to open up over the phone went unanswered. With the semester complete, being home didn’t leave much space to dodge the knowing gaze in her eyes. 

That master’s degree will probably be a waste of time.

The moment you pulled away from the hug, she cupped your chin, and your poker face cracked as the tears cascaded down your cheeks. Two hours later, you filled her in on everything from the stress of school, financial aid, working doubles, and the fresh crack in your heart that was taking its sweet-ass time to heal. All of which had only taken about forty minutes to stutter out. The talk and her comfort had left you wiped out, and just like any amazing mother would do, she sent you to your room for a nap and got to work on preparing comfort food.

You considered dozing off for a bit more rest, but your bedroom door flew open, bouncing off the corner of your vanity. Your eyes narrowed to mere slits as you started to curse your oldest brother out. His hand raising halted the verbal reprimand.

“Alena’s big-headed ass is here to see ya mean ass,” he snarked about the woman who would eventually become his wife.

These two bitches are so in love. It’s sickening. The attraction is so annoyingly obvious. Shit makes me sick to my stomach.

Before you could tell him you didn’t want company, she was already in the doorframe. “Uh-uh, bitch you are not about to dodge me for another two weeks.” With those words said, you had no choice but to give her a rundown of what had transpired. Not only had she forced you to divulge every last detail while the two of you hugged and cried together. She also took it upon herself to wiggle you into your best freakum dress and head out for a girl’s night.

Being the baby and the only girl in your family made for very over-the-top protective parents. The moment your father saw your attire, he wouldn’t let up. He was hell-bent on forcing your brothers to chaperone.

It wasn’t a horrible idea.  Only you didn’t like your independence challenged. Luckily, the older siblings were pretty chill, so long as no one was overly aggressive. They had taught you how to handle shit for yourself at a young age. You spent the first half hour in the club pouting and ready to go home to wallow in self-misery.

“Hoe! If you don’t fix your face, scaring off every good-looking man in this club!”

“They’ll be alright, so long as they keep their distance. In case you didn’t get the memo after our long talk. Men make my ass itch,” you growled, kissing your teeth.

“Whateva, you and that stank attitude can have a good time together,” she sassed, throwing up a hand and walking away from the bar.”

“Where are you going? Alena!”

“I’ll be back, damn! Let me go on and annoy them, fine-ass brothers of yours. Be nice, and don’t bite nobody head off, sourpuss.”

“Always thirsting after my blood, just triflin’.”

With the flick of a middle finger, she sauntered over to their section. You could see the irritation rolling off them as she seated herself in the middle. The arguing started seconds later. Your eye twitched at the sight. Swinging the barstool back toward the liquor, you were about to pass the time scrolling through social media. Instead, a set of bronzed-colored, muscular digits came into view. They gently pressed your phone to the bar as the matching digits slid another lemon drop into view. Your eyes danced along those muscular fingers, trailing upward until they landed on one of the sexiest faces you’d ever witnessed. If any other man would’ve done this, he would’ve been set straight expeditiously. In this instance, ole boy was just too damn fine, and it left you on mute. The corners of his mouth lifted into a handsome smirk.

The stranger turned his barstool to get closer. One hand rested on the bar while the other cradled the back of your seat. His eyes roamed over your body, lip tucking between his teeth, matching you stare for stare. He chuckled when he noticed your quirked eyebrow.

“I don’t mean to intrude on ya evening, but I figured you could use another drink.”

“Is that so?”

“Couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with your friend. I’m tryin’ to  figure out why these men got your fine ass itching out here.”

Shit, he heard that? Floor, open up and swallow me. That’s so damn embarrassing.

As if reading your thoughts, he continued, “Nothing to be embarrassed about, mama. There’s a lot of boys running around here pretending to be men. Who was crazy enough to fumble you? He gotta be the dumbest man on earth.”

As if on cue, said fumbler’s name popped up on your caller ID. With a swipe of a finger, the phone went silent. You turned back to your new admirer. He had signaled for another round of drinks.

“Either you’re a big spender, or the bartender is your connect,” you teased.

“Connect is one way of putting it. This my spot, darlin’.”

He chuckled as you damn near choked on your drink.

“I’m sorry. Tend to put my foot in my mouth.”

“You good. I like a woman who’s not afraid to speak her mind. Dealing with me, you go to say it with your chest.”

“Oh, so you plan to be around me beyond tonight?”

“Around, underneath, on top. We locked in, mama,” he insisted, licking his lips.

“I don’t even know your name, fool,” you cackled at his cockiness.

“Name’s Rio, but you can call me Christopher, mama. My future wife needs to know my government name. I’m putting my trust in you. Don’t be tellin’ my business, sweetheart.”

“Who says I’m checking for you, Rio?”

“You accepted my company and drinks. Deep down, you’re intrigued by me. Ain’t no need to hide it. When I see something I want, gotta go after it, mama.” he rasped, voice lowering to a panty-dropping level.

“You’re trouble. I just know it.”

Rio planted both hands on your thighs. The gasp that escaped you lit his brown orbs with passion.

“Can I have your undivided attention for the night? Want to get to know you better, mama.”

Grabbing his outstretched hand, he helped you down off the stool.

“Rio…”

Piercing light flickered in the darkness, pulling you from the memory that played itself in your dreams. Your hand snatched the vibrating phone from the table. Your orbs squinted to read the screen, teeth clenching in frustration.

Fucking Rio, I can’t even get away from him in my sleep. Stupid-handsome-asshole.

With a single tap, the phone rested on DND. You closed off from the world to find a peaceful slumber, only to wake from another dream. Throwing the covers back, you startled, feeling the bed dip. His cologne wafted through the air, and your eyes connected.

“Why all the tossing and turning, amor? Hmm,” he rasped, hand trailing up your arm. His warm palm cradled the side of your neck, rubbing away some of the tension.

“Sorry, did my restlessness wake you?”

“No, querida. I’ve been up taking care of some things.”

“Same old Miguel. Everything business. Still don’t sleep much, huh?”

His eyes crinkled with a small smile, but you could also see sadness. It’s the same unhappiness that’s always lingered, only now accompanied by sparks of anger and resentment. Your mind replayed his words in the elevator.

Where’s your wife, Miguel?

She had other plans tonight.

The slightest mention of her had nearly sent his mood spiraling. You weren’t privy to what was happening in his marriage but didn’t want to pry. He would only reverse card uno your ass. Miguel would insist that you vent about your own life and frustrations.

“Thank you for taking the couch,” you nibbled at your lip. 

There was a hint of frustration and guilt lingering in your chest. Not being able to sleep without dreaming of Rio left you feeling conflicted. Part of you wanted to say to hell with loyalty. Being in such a vulnerable state had you craving to be held and cuddled, but regardless of circumstance, the two of you were very much married. Concern swam in the pools of his eyes. Miguel sensed the ongoing dilemma in your head, and his fingers gently cupped your chin.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s all this,” he asked, tugging the lip between your teeth. “Tell me what you need.”

“I can’t,” you sighed.

“You can, and you will. Look at me,” he insisted as your eyes locked.

“Anything you ask me. It won’t leave this room. You need me to hold you until sleep takes over, amor?”

Unable to verbally say it, you gave him a slight head nod. Removing his tie, watch, and shoes, he made it over to the opposite side of the bed. Miguel got right to it, not giving you time to overthink it. He pulled you into his chest, arms engulfing you in a tight hug.

“Were you having nightmares, cariño?”

“No, just happy memories reminding me of the present painful ones,” you replied, voice filling with unshed tears.

“You want to talk about it?”

Silence filled the room as Miguel continued, “We don’t have to ta-.”

His sentence cut short as he felt the tremors and your head burrowed into his side. Miguel’s heart cracked at the sound of the sobs falling from your lips. His arms pulled you further into him until there was no space left, and the palm of his hand rubbed at your head.

“Shhh, you’re okay. I’m here,” he cooed, leaving soft kisses on the crown of your head.

Miguel continued to whisper calming words. You cried until your head pounded, and sleep took over.

Hope you all enjoyed that little peek into how Rio pulled up on your girl for the first time. He saw something he liked, and he had to have you🥰. We’ll just call this a vague moment of insight into upcoming events...if that makes sense 😆. If you enjoyed please be sure to hit the love button, comment, and reblog. Spread the love, my babies.

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[froggiewrites]

I know you’re not taking requests rn BUT if in the future you wouldn’t mind and think it’s fun: I was working and had disney’s mulan (1998 obviously) in the background, hadn’t watched in a while so I did laugh when mulan was practicing acting like a man and said “ha! I see you have a sword, I have one too! they’re very manly-” and just drops the sword. What if reader had to go undercover as swordsman somewhere and they ask zoro for help/pointers and they do this really bad act in front of him? or maybe it’s something like a first meeting kind of thing where the reader is trying to blend in to escape or something and encounters zoro, does this horrible act and ends up confessing and asking for help? I just think this would be hilarious bc zoro might seem and feel very offended but has probably experienced worse with the crew’s jokes and if feelings are involved he could be like “why am I attracted to this idiot?”, affectionately ofc lol

I had a lot of fun with this one, anon. Mulan is tied for my favorite Disney movie, so I was already super on board with this request, and then as I started writing it just started getting really silly. I hope you enjoy it!!

Make a (Swords)Man Out of You

Pairing: Zoro x Reader

SFW

Summary: Your attempt to go undercover as a master swordsman isn't going particularly well. A kind (if somewhat grumpy) stranger offers you some lessons to help keep up the ruse. Warnings: Fluff, Reader is a loser (affectionate) in this one, Zoro is also a bit of a loser Word Count: 2.5k

You were seriously going to get yourself killed.

You were convinced this was going to be easy. You’d tricked people before, and frankly, how hard could it be to use a sword? You don’t need to pretend to be the best swordsman, just a swordsman!

It turns out using a sword is, admittedly, kind of hard.

You couldn’t count on one hand the amount of times you had nearly cut yourself, or the blade had slipped from your hands, or you ended up not slicing through anything because you messed up your swing. You try to tell yourself over and over again that you don’t need to be the best, just mediocre, but you can’t even manage that at this point. You’re going to get caught. You’ve been undercover in this group for a week now, and you’ve managed to avoid any actual swordplay so far, but you can’t keep this up for long. Not only have you not found the treasure you wanted, you’re probably going to get your head sliced off before you find even a hint of it’s location. 

So here you are, in the middle of the night, trying and once again failing to make a dent on this stupid training dummy.

“You’re not holding it right.”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of a man’s voice behind you. You whip around to see another mysterious swordsman who showed up a few days ago and immediately wiped the floor with several members of the group. You had no idea why he was here, considering he didn’t seem nearly as interested in mindless violence or ill-gotten gains as the rest of the people here. You couldn’t quite recall his name.

“I know what I’m doing,” you grumble, unconvincingly.

“Oh yeah?” He has a smug grin on his face, one that just screams I know more than you and we both know it. “Will you show me, then?”

This is it. You’re caught, he’s going to tell, and you’re going to get sliced to a billion little pieces. You try to keep your cool, to steady your breath and lie through your teeth as you have been all week, but something about him just cuts to your core and you break. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

He takes a step back at the panic in your voice, immediately looking unsure at the sight of your tears. “I’m not–I–Stop crying!” He says it roughly, more of a command than anything else, which only makes you cry harder.

“Please, I don’t want them to kill me! I didn’t think it’d be this hard! I just wanted some treasure, is that so wrong? Life is expensive!” Your blubber would be embarrassing if you had any coherent thoughts through your fear.

“Who said anything about killing you?” He moves forward, his hand covering your mouth and muffling your sobs and panicked words. “And seriously, stop crying. You’re being too damn loud, you’re going to get yourself caught! God, it’s a wonder you haven’t been caught already. You’re so obvious I knew from the moment I walked in you were trying to run some kind of con.”

You try to ask him how he knew immediately, but the words don’t make it through his palm.

“Stop talking. It’s fine. No one’s going to kill you.”

You think he can hear you promise? through his hand.

“Yes, I promise. Just…stop.”

He frees your mouth, and you take a deep and steadying breath.

“So why are you pretending to be a swordsman?”

“These bandits have been stealing a lot from people here, and I heard they stole a big priceless artifact from a nobleman. I figure if I get that, I can get off the island, sell it, and be set for life.”

“So you said you were a master swordsman?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t think about lying about anything more believable?”

“They said they needed one. And I didn’t think I’d be this bad at it.”

He closes his eyes, pondering a moment. “You do seem pretty uniquely terrible at this.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“No problem.”

You try to steady your breath, and while you do, he takes your hands in his, turning them over and glaring at them as though they were an insult.

“Why are they so soft?”

“What?”

“Your hands. They’re too soft. You don’t have a single callus.”

“Why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing?”

“It means you don’t do anything with them. It means you definitely don’t hold a sword. If anyone here were capable you’d have been out on your ass day one.”

“I don’t think most people would notice that.”

“Any decent swordsman would. You’re damn lucky I’m the only one here.”

You want to scoff, to ask him what makes him so qualified, but you know he could sound the alarm at any moment, and it’s stupid to piss off a man who holds your life in his hands. “Why haven’t you turned me in already?”

He scoffs. “Why would I?”

“They’d probably give you a reward or something. You don’t get anything out of helping me.”

“What, are you trying to convince me to do it?”

Your heart clenches, your voice raising with fear. “No!”

He shushes you harshly. “God, it was a joke! Be quiet!”

You shrink in on yourself, covering your mouth before he gets the chance.

He sighs. “You’re terrible at this. Why the hell did you think you could keep up this act?”

“I’ve tricked people before!”

“Did those people have swords?”

“...No.”

“Did you keep up an act for weeks at a time?”

“Well–”

“Yes or no.”

“...No.”

He pinches his forehead, muttering something under his breath about an idiot you remind him of, and you pout indignantly. 

“I’m not an idiot!”

“Oh yeah? Because everything I’ve seen tonight has been pretty dumb.”

“Okay, well why are you here then, genius?”

He goes quiet, his eyes sliding away from yours.

“What, no answer?”

He mumbles something.

“What was that?”

You can barely hear the words, almost lost as he whispers them, his head tilted down in embarrassment. “I got lost.”

You can’t help the bark of a laugh that leaves you. “What?”

“I got lost! I was going to find my ship and I got turned around, so I decided to stay and see what this place was about! So what?”

“You got lost so you decided to join a group of bandits? And you’ve been here for days! Don’t you have anybody looking for you?”

“They’ll show up eventually!”

“Why didn’t you just ask for directions?”

“I don’t need directions!”

“Clearly, you do!”

You both groan in unison at the other, fighting frustration. You aren’t in much of a position to judge, but how could a person be more helpless? At least you got yourself into trouble on purpose.

“Where is your ship supposed to be docked?”

“I don’t remember exactly, it was near an opera house.”

“An…opera house?”

“Yeah?”

You cannot believe this is happening. “We don’t have one of those.”

“What?”

“There isn’t an opera house on this island. The closest one is a day’s ferry trip away. How the hell did you get here?”

“I walked.”

“That literally cannot be true! Like physically!”

“Well it is! So you must have forgotten!”

“Forgotten about the layout of the island I’ve lived my entire life on? Really?”

“God, you’re so annoying. I can’t believe I was going to help you.”

You pause. “You were going to help me? With what?”

“With swordplay! Obviously! You can’t even hold the damn thing right, you clearly need it.” He’s pouting, his lower lip jutted out like a child about to throw a tantrum. You just barely hold yourself back from telling himself that. As fun as it may be to taunt him, you really do need the help.

You can swallow your pride for the night. If everything works out, maybe you can make fun of him for this later. “...Would you still be willing to help me?”

“Why should I?”

“I can get you back to your ship. After I get the treasure, I mean.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“No offense, but you definitely do. And I kind of want to go with you anyway. I’m a little worried you’ll just walk off into the ocean if I don’t.”

He glares at you, eyes raking up and down your form, considering for a moment. He sighs. “Fine, I guess I can help.”

You feel hopeful for the first time in a while. Your new friend, who informs you his name is Zoro, seems rather skilled. Maybe this plan won’t get you killed after all!

Two days later you’re kicking yourself for daring to think that even for a second.

“How the hell are you still doing it wrong?” His hands are on your back again, adjusting your posture for the twentieth time today. “How hard can it be just to swing a sword?”

“It’s not! I’ve been swinging it this whole time!” You aggressively bring the blade down on the training dummy you two had stolen for your lessons. Zoro had thought you would need a day at most to get the basics down, but you were nearing the end of day two and making absolutely no progress.

He sighs, wrapping his arms around you, pressing his chest to your back as he adjusts your hold. You try not to blush as you ask, “What are you doing?”

“Fixing your hold. Come on, we’re going to swing it together. Clearly just telling you isn’t working, but maybe this will.” He puts his hands over yours, and you feel the heat radiating off of him. You try to focus on the movement as he guides you, but you can’t help but be distracted by the feeling of his muscles against your back. “Did you get that?”

“Huh?” You’re so grateful he can’t see your face right now. “Sorry, uh, can we do that one more time?”

Instead of making fun of you or complaining, he simply guides you through the motion again, going slow to ensure you understand every step, before repeating it again closer to a normal speed. “Did you get it?”

“I…think so. Maybe.”

He chuckles, and you can feel the rumble of his chest against your back. “Alright. Try it yourself, now.”

You do, and for once, the sword flies through the air with ease, and makes a sizable slash in the dummy. You stare for a moment, dumbfounded, before you drop the sword and whirl around to face him. “I did it!” You can’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around him.

“Wha–Hey! Don’t drop your sword!” Despite his scolding tone of voice, his arms are gentle as they wrap around you, lifting you up slightly. “...But that was good.”

Is that a hint of red at the tips of his ears?

No, of course not. It couldn’t be.

He sets you down, picking up the sword and placing it back in your hand. “Now do it again. If you can do something as simple as that, you can probably keep up the facade long enough to find your treasure.”

You do the motion ten, twenty, then thirty more times while Zoro watches on with satisfaction. “You know, I could probably make a real swordsman out of you if we had the time.”

You laugh. “Maybe you could. I don’t have anywhere to be after this. Does your ship have room for one more?”

You say it as a joke, but you can see on his face that for a moment, he genuinely considers the possibility. “It’s a big ship. You’d have to get approval from my Captain, though.”

“Do you think I could?”

“He’d love you.” He smiles fondly. “You’re just as reckless as he is. And you’d get along with everyone else, too. Nami would appreciate having someone else who knows the value of a Berry around. Usopp would love how gullible you are. And that cook…” He makes a quiet noise of disgust. “Anyway, you’d fit right in.”

You can see the affection radiating off of him as he talks about his friends. You can’t help but smile back at him. “They sound nice.”

“They have their moments.”

You sheathe your sword, rolling out your shoulders and neck. “Well, I think I only have a bit to go before I get the treasure. I’m so close I can taste it. I bet I can find it by tonight.”

“Here’s hoping. As you are now, you’d still get caught the moment you got put into a real battle. We have to find it quickly.”

You freeze, your heart pounding a little faster. “...We?”

“Yeah?” He looks at you like it’s obvious.

“You’re coming with me?”

“You thought I wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know! You never said you were going to!”

“I thought it was obvious. We’re going to go in, grab the treasure, and run like hell.”

You don’t like the way he simplifies it, but you have to admit that’s basically your entire plan. “And then I take you back to your ship?”

“It’d be hard for you to join if you didn’t.”

You can’t hide your shock. “You were serious?”

“Were you not?”

“I mean–I’d like to, but–”

“If you want to, then there’s no but. It’s settled.” He says it so easily. You wonder where he gets the confidence to speak things into existence like that, to say things as though they’re sure to happen simply because he wills it. His next words are spoken as an afterthought, as though they left his mouth before he even realized they were coming. “That’s good. I didn’t really want to let you go.”

“Huh?” Your face is definitely red now.

“Huh?” His face might be redder than yours.

“Did you–”

“No, definitely not.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He sharply turns around. “We have a treasure to go steal.”

Well, if he isn’t going to be brave about this, you suppose you’ll have to. You wouldn’t survive the tension-filled boat ride over otherwise. “Oh, the brave swordsman is running away?”

You see his shoulders tense, and you know you got him. “I am not running away.”

“Then why aren’t you looking at me, Zoro?” You keep your voice teasing and sickly sweet.

He slowly turns, desperately avoiding your eyes.

“You still aren’t loo–”

Before you can finish your taunt, chapped lips are pressed against yours. It’s jarring and all too brief, gone before you even realize it was there. By the time you can blink, he’s backed away again, stalking off with a purpose. “Come on. We’re losing daylight.”

“That’s the wrong way.”

He turns back around without a word, rushing past you. You can’t help the goofy little grin that makes its way onto your lips. You won’t tell him, not now, but you didn’t really want to let him go quite yet either.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

[jolalibrary]

see me in a vest

cod ghost x f!reader | ghost masterlist

Summary: “You gonna keep lurking in the corner like a ghoul?” Straightening his spine, he lets his narrowed eyes cut into you. Gliding them up and down your face—from the top of your hairline to your arched brow, to the lips twisted up into a smirk. “Hilarious.”

Warnings: Brief mentions of smut. Mentions of a wound, blood (Ghost's but he's obv fine). Flirting. Feelings. FWB to something - they're a mess, but yeah. And, maybe unedited writing? AN: I don't know if I'm on the Ghost train again, but I'm at the station. Wordcount: 3k (this was meant to be 500 words).

Eye contact is a dangerous, dangerous thing. But lovely. God, so lovely — Hedonist Poet

It’s a sight watching you laugh, how it blooms like wildflowers in a wasteland. Your lips are parting around the sound—neck exposed. He can faintly spot the sight of bruises from when his hand last became your necklace.

He shouldn’t be looking your way. Most definitely not be thinking about how he wishes to press your cheek against the tiles of his shower. Ghost really can’t be considering how to ask you to come to his room tonight.

Even if it’s all he thinks.

His fingers brushing against his thumb, rolling and rolling as he tries not to grind his teeth or glare with any more intention.

All about to move his glare, try to find a spot on the table or the wall, but his eyes latch with yours.

The room silences, pausing. Just the two of you, breathing, living—blinking. Or, it feels like it does. Like some poetic bullshit from some film, a scene he’s sure you’ve tried to explain to him when you’ve attempted to fill the silence.

He thinks you smile. The edges of your lips twist further into your cheeks. But it never quite lands, never sticks.

Ghost shouldn’t be thinking about you. But all he does is think about you.

In another life, where he wasn’t dressed in scars or his belief in happiness and thereafter’s hadn’t been stripped from his remaining soul, Ghost suspects you’d be the one he’d want to keep around.

It’s the only reason he clenches his fist, watching you through the outer rim of his mask’s eye sockets and always watching, never intervening. Not even when soldiers below your rank let their eyes drift to your rear—or worse, from your face to your chest.

He lets them.

Allows them to ogle you because he knows they won’t ever be fortunate to see any more. Not just because he’d have their heads but because you’d turn them inside out before you’d even let them touch you. Plus, you ridicule them enough when you catch them—tongue all poison and razor sharp, a thing not to be messed with, something which barks as bad as it bites.

“You gonna keep lurking in the corner like a ghoul?”

Straightening his spine, he lets his narrowed eyes cut into you. Gliding them up and down your face—from the top of your hairline to your arched brow, to the lips twisted up into a smirk.

“Hilarious.”

Sighing, you roll your lips. “You gonna keep boiling everyone alive with your eyes whenever they talk to me?”

“I’m not.”

“For someone who has likely been required to lie for their work, your pretty awful at it.”

Grinding his teeth, he bites the inside of his cheek. Not wanting to rise, to give in—to fucking begin this tedious game of bickering. Instead, he allows a heavy breath to escape through his nose, long and slow, pushing the fabric out before it clings back to the tip of his nose.

Hoping you hear it, take note of it.

But from how you shift your stance, playing with your water bottle—crunching it in your grip—as you tap your boot against the floor, he doubts you have.

“You think too highly of yourself, princess.”

”Princess, ay?” you grin, far too wickedly to be innocent. “Thought you preferred seeing me in a vest, than a crown.”

Clamping his mouth shut, you take a sip of your water—letting the droplets hang on your lip, only wiping them from your chin at the last moment—a knowing look, all telling and haunted with lust and something else.

“Let’s walk.”

And, somehow, against all better judgement, he follows.

The first time it happened, your eyes had been shimmering. A softness to your features aided by alcohol bought by Price in celebration. It allows him to see his reflection in them—finding he’s all cold eyes. Around that though, he’s confronted with something stitched, carved, into the usually hardened expression he’d come to respect. Then it all shifted. A sound, one that was similar to how droplets of watercolour change a plain piece of paper, fills the air. It spreading shades in front of him that filled the scenery—the one the two of you were admiring as the others continued to be loud inside. Ghost can’t recall what he said, but he remembers what you’d said the moment you’d laughter had died: You’re funny for a skeleton. It was stupid. Foolish. Barely funny—in the grand scheme of things. But then, the building next to them had begun counting down, and you were looking at him—stars shimmering above the tips of the Siberian cypresses. There was just you, and him, and a crack of amber light across crisp, disturbed white snow. “Be rude to not kiss at New Year, wouldn’t it, Ghost?” ”Suppose so.”

You didn’t ask for his jacket immediately.

Even if he’d spotted you fighting off a shiver in your two’s awkward ‘walk’. No, you wait until the two of you are far past your usual building, and even then, you don’t ask. As usual, you pulled—tugged, and practically dragged it down his arms—until he surrendered it.

It was easier to bite back a groan. To look at you. Stick his pupils into your unbothered appearance. Allowing, instead, for his displeasure at your insistent but silent demand to show through his body language.

Not that you fucking care.

Chin all tipped up, meeting his stare boldly. Practically egging him on, pushing him, goading him.

Because you do that well. You like to push—not for a reaction, but to crack him.

Cause a break in him that you can slide through and make yourself at home. Somehow, against his better judgement—and usual practice—he lets you.

Each and every time.

Because even if he’d never admit it, he would—and could—go as far as to say he likes that you’re wrapping his jacket around your arms, head tilting up to look at the sky—observing how the stars are flickering. Because he rather enjoys seeing you coated in something of his.

Not possessively. Not because he needs some unhealthy confirmation that you want to be in something of his over anyone else. But because it's nice. A niceness he won’t ever admit. A confession that’ll never be spilt, not even under the most difficult of tortures. Not even if you sunk down on him, buried him inside you and refused to move until he did.

His resolve was stronger than that, something you’d learnt.

“Love it when the sky is clear,” you mumble.

Blinking, he looks up, realising the night looks so similar to the night in that small Canadian town.

When you’d offered to kiss him over his mask but eventually retrieved his lips—front sitting just under his nose, hands splayed across your lower back, pinning you flush to him. Because if he only had one chance to do it, he was going to milk it. Not that it was ever just that once, hence this—the two of you outside, close to an abandoned barrack under a flurry of stars and a half-gleaming moon.

He’s aware of the parallels.

How you’d been wearing his jacket that night, too. Albeit then because he’d given it to you when you’d come looking for him, rather than yanking it from his arms and burying yourself in it.

Ghost should mind.

Should find the idea unbearable, just like he should find you intolerable.

You sigh, not softly or sweetly, but difficulty and loud. “I don’t belong to you, Ghost.”

Ghost. Not the name you called him a few days ago when his fingers were curled inside you—his breath hot on your throat. Your pulse hammering against his tongue.

In a way, he thinks he should find you annoying, insufferable. Instead, he just finds you’re odd.

Odd in the sense that you stick around—not questioning his mannerisms or demands. That you fight everyone out there when sand tries to find places it shouldn’t, snow makes you shiver and blood stains skin—including him, on occasion.

But, when it’s the two of you, you bend so easily—all submissive, desperate. Mouth wrapping around his fingers, tongue swirling, before he’s so much as touched you.

It is why he snorts—and for a multitude of reasons.

Finger and thumb stroking his bare jaw, letting his eyes cast to the ground before looking in your direction. “Bet if I stick my fingers in your knickers, your cunt will say something different.”

You stare. Blank. Unreadable.

Something which makes his jaw tense, and his spine straighten. Because there aren’t many expressions he finds unbearable about you, except the unreadable one—the one you’re so skilled at pulling out across your face, hiding your thoughts and opinions.

He watches as you unfold your arms, displaying the hardest, squinted stare imaginable as your nose scrunched and your lips thin out. Leaving it there, hanging between the two of you—it not swaying as the seconds tick on, to the point he wonders if you genuinely expect him to be the one that cracks.

Then, you shift. You allow the lightest smirk to spread across your mouth into your perfect, soft, unscarred cheek. “Most likely. But, then again, on a base with a bunch of men, my underwear doesn’t tend to be dry.”

He has no retort, no initial thing to say.

So he says nothing.

Because everything he could say wouldn’t land in jest, would likely have his jacket thrown back in his face. And, the one good thing he has waiting (but not waiting) for him when he comes back—from fuck knows where—would be gone, vanished.

Not that he ever wanted this. Never mind needed it.

“Guessing that wasn’t the answer you wanted, Lieutenant?”

Keeping his mouth clamped, he remains silent. Lets it smother, wrap itself around the two of you and embed itself into the silence. Because no, that wasn’t the fucking answer he wanted.

There hadn’t been a reason as to why he knocked on your door, or why he had stuffed a nicer loo roll under his arm and brought you a bowl of soup. He could ration that you were a good solider, a solid member of his team. A reliable force that would get the job done. Someone who questioned and also obeyed. If needed, he could likely list a bunch more reasons why you were integral to whatever operation he was next sent on. But even he knew that wasn’t why he was outside your door. Why he turned the handle when you coughed and spluttered a weak ‘come in’. Whatever sight he’d expected, wasn’t close to what he saw. Your door closing behind him, your hand trying to cover your chapped lips as you splutter half a lung up, allowing him the chance to take in the rest of you. How your eyes were hollowed out by tiredness, your skin tacky and shining in the low light from a cracked curtain. ”D-did I miss a meeting or ‘sumthing?” Shaking his head, he placed the soup down by your bed—using the bowl to nudge several used tissues from its path, as he manoeuvred the roll from under his arm to hand it to you. Your eyes lighting, ever so slightly, by the softer—more nose-kind tissue. ”Jus’ came to check on you.” Blowing your nose, you offer a half smile. ”Because my aim is better than MacTavish’s?” Smirking, he watches as you shuffle over on your bed—allowing him room, something he takes without thought. In the same way he doesn’t need to think about lifting his mask now, how you’ve seen him—bruised, bloody, broken and so much more. An answer in itself as to why he’s here. One he could say with relative ease if the words would form. Instead, he throws his legs up—feels your eyes take him in as you try to clear your throat. “’cause you’re sick.” ”Oh.” And because I care. The latter not leaving his tongue, never mind his lips. Instead, he slides his arm around you, pulling you to lie in the crook of his arm and chest. Hoping that said enough. Explained it adequately. Incase it didn’t, he offered: ”Brought you soup, too.” ”Tomato?” Snorting, he rolled his eyes. “Chicken.” ”Guess that’ll do.” Your head tilting, staring up at him—and he hoped you couldn’t hear how loud his heart was hammering. Because even if this is what he wanted—to be there for you. To have you curled against him for reasons he couldn’t articulate, he hadn’t expected it. Even less the whispered, simple, ‘thank you, Simon’. Never mind that you barely finish the soup before you’re asleep against him.

Kicking at the ground, it’s a stone which pays the price for your annoyance with him. It rolls off, grating against gravel and grass before it came to a sad stop.

“What I was going to say,” you continue, huffing—in that way you do when you’re interrupted by lesser people and idiotic souls. “I don’t belong to you, but you don’t need to worry about every person who makes me laugh. I’m yours. Have been for a while.

“And before your strategic, get-out-alive brain begins firing on all fucking cylinders, I don’t… don’t need a declaration—didn’t need a menial question being asked to certify it. Don’t need you to tell me shit. I’m just telling you that I don’t—well—fuck around lightly.”

Lifting your arms, gesturing to you in his jacket—his clothing. Face pulling into an expression that makes him feel like he’s got a fucking egg on his face. As though he’s a fool, a fucking imbecile for not seeing what it was in front of him.

Maybe, he is.

Which is why he steps closer. Boots crunching gravel in the quiet, you stare at him—gazing through the cutouts and scorching your glare into him, scratching another line on his soul. Marking him. Like you have been doing since the first time he lost himself in your iris’s as your tongue curled out his name.

“I don’t… I don’t do this with others. What we do—is just what we do, Gh—”

“Simon,” he interrupts.

All sharp, like he’s stabbing you with his name, rather than handing it to you. Even if you’ve called it him before—you never have out here. Outside the confines of four walls, with your skin bare and his mouth latched to some part of your body.

“Jus’ mean, if y’gonna talk to me about it just being you and me, should at least call me my name.”

Slowly, you lower your arms, lips spreading into a line before they slide into a smile. “Simon. I don’t do this with other people.” Your eyes look up as you sigh. “Mainly because I don’t think anyone has a bigger cock than you.”

He brings you flush with him in one tug, watching your lips purse—a smirk attempting to grow behind it.

It’s more a grunt than a murmur how he tells you to ‘behave’, gloved fingers in the loops of your belt—a warped noise from the back of his throat beckoning to come out when your hand presses against his abdomen. Right against the clotted scarring of an old bullet wound—the one you’d pressed your palms into when he’d earned it—vermillion staining, clinging to your fingers and arm. Tears hanging from your lashes that you’d attempted to blink away, staring anywhere but at him.

Don’t die on me, Ghost. We’ve not done the wheelbarrow just yet.

When he’d been stitched and released, he finds your hand always goes there. A place you always seek, always find. You never touch his heart—never the thing that beats. You choose the pain embedded in tissue, the one he wonders if you hope to heal whenever you get the chance to brush your touch against it.

Rising on your toes, you roll your lips, softening your smirk into a smile. “It’s just you.”

“Because of my cock?”

He grips you tightly, not allowing you to descend to flat-footedness or move from being against him.

“Oh, a hundred percent. But you’re also a lot funnier than most people we meet, and I really like a man who makes me laugh.”

He pinches lightly—right on your side as you tip your head. “Y’know, don’t you?”

Ghost watches, waiting. Flicking from one of your eyes to the other.

And then you nod. “I know. Don’t worry, won’t make you tell me that you love my company as much as you do my tits just yet.”

He’s close enough for you to kiss the edge of his chin if he doesn’t move. But he does. Squeezing your hips, dropping his head enough, allowing your mouth to brush over his mask-covered lips.

It's enough for now, as you lower back to the ground. Feeling you turn in his hold—back to his chest and stomach as you wrap his jacket around you tighter.

Because he’ll kiss you better later.

A promise he makes silently, feeling your fingers take his, tugging his arm around you. He doesn’t need to see you to see that you’re smirking.

He can sense it.

AN: huge thank you to G. this wouldn't be possible without you nudging me, and making me accountable. dedicated to @theashfallx because she says she'll devour more of this man if I write it, so i had to finish it for her too.

[dmercer91]

helpless, hopeless. me94

in which he is helpless in school and hopelessly in love. (18+!!)

i think i just gave myself a crush

“could we try a reward system or something? i can’t help that i’m not motivated when the material is this” you rolled your eyes to yourself at his words, tapping your pen on the textbook in your lap out of frustration

mark was unteachable. you were sure he knew what ambition felt like, you were sure deep down he cared about academics to an extent, because you don’t commit to umich sports without at least some drive, right?

frustration got the better of you, and your tone indicated that well with your response. “what, do you want me to throw bacon at you? the reward is passing the class, mark,”

he glared at you, his jaw ticking slightly because of the attitude you’d given him. you were both starting to think your prof was some sort of comedian for pairing the two of you up for tutoring

“i meant something i want, not something i need, but thank you for your kind suggestion, i’ll be sure to keep bacon in mind when you’re throwing questions at me” you slammed the book on your lap shut, gesturing for him to tell you his great idea for how you should motivate him to study

“go ahead, then,”

his demeanour changed, his pupils dilated, and his tongue quickly poked out to lick his lips before he shrugged.

“well, i saw-“ his body language had given you plenty of context regarding what he was about to say, and you didn’t need to hear it.

“are you out of your fucking mind? you’re lucky if it’s a hundred degrees in here and i even consider taking off my hoodie,” you shut him down before the thought could even reach his lips.

“come on, you need the extra credit. i’ll do it too, if i get one wrong, or something,” you shook your head, lips parted in exasperation.

if you didn’t think it’d get to his already big head, you’d laugh like he was telling a hilarious joke

“i need the extra credit, not the extracurriculars. i also have zero interest in seeing you without a shirt on,” he grinned for a split second, hiding it by hanging his head until he could fight it off.

“if you want my opinion, the extracurriculars might help you calm the fuck down. but sure, you don’t need it,” you sucked your teeth, not even bothering to respond to him as you stuffed your things back into your backpack and moved off his bed.

“hey, wait, i was just being a dick, y/n,” he reached his arm to grab your wrist, but you moved away, and his hand landed square on your thigh. you could see the gears turning in his head before he used the leverage to tug you back towards him.

“it seems like dick is almost your default. let me go, there are plenty of pretty boy assholes for me to tutor for my extra credit. a few in this house, actually. but nobody in their right mind is agreeing to strip if it means you’ll pay attention to them” he raised an eyebrow, disagreeing with your last remark.

“and what if i don’t want any other mean tutors to strip for me?” your cheeks went hot but you blatantly ignored the feeling, refusing to look down at him cause you knew what was waiting for you if you did.

his hands were already smoothing up and down your hips, and when you refused to look at him he stood, pressing his chest to yours.

your chin ended up just by his collar bone, and he looked down at you, a soft pout showing in his eyes but not his lips.

“this isn’t cute.” you deadpanned, causing him to smirk, tilting his head.

“no?” you shook your head, mimicking his no, but definitively rather than questioningly.

“is it convincing, at least?” he asked, a small smile playing at his lips.

you sighed in response, taking the flash cards from your front bag pouch and throwing the rest of the bag on the floor.

you both sat back down on his bed, and you glumly asked the first question on the card. he got it wrong, and eyed you til you moved to the next card.

you were half expecting him to take his sweater off, but he hadn’t.

he looked bored right out of his mind, and the way he answered showed that he was still wildly disinterested in the topic.

he wouldn’t ponder, just immediately said the first thing that came to mind so he could move on.

the next question, you knew he had the answer to. when he got it right, you paused.

he raised an eyebrow, giving you a look of annoyance when you took so long to flip to the next question.

he quickly lost the attitude when you pulled your sweater over your head and refused to meet his eyes, just moved on to the next question quietly.

he took longer to think about it this time, eventually coming up with the right answer. you look your shirt off, leaving you in your bra.

you looked up at him for a quick second to see his cheeks bright red and his lips parted, his lashes fluttering as he blinked repeatedly.

he hardly heard the next question, and stumbled until he got it wrong. you looked at him expectantly, then looked away, trying not to look back at him while he cleared his throat and pulled off his sweater

he hadn’t been wearing a shirt underneath, so you were met with his bare chest when you did muster up the courage to look in his direction.

he got the next question right, and you gave yourself a moment before you raised your hips and discarded your pants. he was staring at you, gaze soft but almost overwhelming as it took you in.

he got the next question right as well, but you didn’t budge, just gave him a small shake of your head.

“something else, then. yeah? maybe come sit in my lap,” you nodded reluctantly, taking your new place on his thigh, your side to his chest.

you ignored the bulge in his sweatpants to the best of your ability, and then he got the next question wrong, so the only barrier between the two of you was your respective underwear

you ignored the way he twitched when you moved even slightly, and you definitely ignored the way he was throbbing, too focused on the same sensation coming from your own core.

“what now?” you asked, voice meek and quiet as you looked down at him.

“i have some ideas im not sure you would approve of” he grinned, and you rolled your eyes in response, cheeks getting warm for what felt like the millionth time that night. this time, though, the rest of your skin felt a similar scorching feeling under his eyes.

“like what?” he licked his lips at that, taking the cards from your hand and setting them aside.

he kissed your lips once, but wasted no time in moving to your jaw, down your neck and to the tops of your boobs.

you let him take his time there, liking the sensation of him nipping gently at the sensitive skin, but eventually you pulled his face back so you could kiss him properly again.

you revelled in the feeling of his smile against your lips, and were quick to part your lips when his tongue slid against your lower one.

you felt his hands pull at your waist, and you let him move you, eyebrows furrowing when he set you so his thigh was slotted between your own.

his thigh jerked when you took it upon yourself to roll your hips, the sudden movement pulling a whine from your lips.

“god you’re so beautiful, baby” he mumbled, placing his hands on your thighs and rubbing slow circles with his thumb.

you buried your hands in his hair, pulling at it whenever his thigh twitched or whenever his hands would inch further up

the rhythm of your hips was steady against him and his kisses were like a drug.

eventually, he worked his kisses to your chest again, and his hands came up to gently swipe along the clasp of your bra, looking up at you as if you ask permission to take it off

his lips were swollen and red, he was panting and all you could focus on was the sweet, begging look in his eyes as you nodded, mumbling your consent.

his right hand moved to pinch at your left nipple, the sensitive skin hardening under his oddly gentle touch, while his lips closed around the other, almost hesitantly

you sucked in a breath, eyes fluttering shut in time for his left hand to move down to your core and rub sweet, soft circles on your clit through the fabric of your panties

“s’ okay?” he asked, out of breath and almost immediately returning his attention to your boob while halting his left hand to wait for your response

“yeah- yeah, s’ okay,” you whimpered, basking in all the stimulation he was providing you.

you were still gently rolling your hips, and his fingers worked in unison with that, so you were already inching closer and closer to your orgasm

you wanted to hide away in him, and though merely twenty minutes ago the idea (and reality) of being with him in an enclosed space seemed awful, he was doing well at making you feel the opposite. you wanted to be as close as possible

he took his time, eyes closed peacefully as he brought you to the edge, and eventually over it.

it was ridiculously powerful, especially for how gentle he’d been, and you bit your lip so hard you swore you tasted blood just to keep in your moans.

he brought his lips back up to your own again, hands cradling your jaw and the back of your head while he eased you onto your back, underneath him.

you pulled away from him, looking up into his eyes with an expression you couldn’t explain. he responded with a soft smile, kissing you on the head reassuringly before trailing down your jaw and focusing on your neck

his hands, now gliding along your waist, were warm and the sensation made you feel fuzzy.

“so gentle,” you stated, words coming out as a half confused whisper. his lips formed a smile against your collarbone and he pulled back a few inches, glancing up at you for a quick second

“i can be,” was his response. you blinked, taking his hands in your own and moving them to your hips, his thumb conveniently nudging at the waistband of your underwear

he moved back up so your heads were level, licking his lips before looking down by your core, then back up at you.

“i like it,” you replied, delayed but still appreciated. he tried his best not to grin like a fool, his heart feeling full in his chest

you didn’t miss the way the corners of his lips curled up, but he immediately shot them down, keeping his composure

he slid two fingers from each hand into your panties, a questioning look in his eyes and his head tilting slightly. you took a deep breath, breaking eye contact to recuperate before nodding and raising your hips, bringing your eyes back to his.

he tugged them down slowly, giving you a reassuring look before ultimately moving his eyes to where his hands were, breath caught in his throat.

a choked whine came from your throat as the cold air touched newly bare skin, and mark finally let his breath go, shakily.

“oh, baby,” he murmured, eyes somehow becoming darker but softer at the same time

your folds were glistening with both your first release and your arousal, and every touch from his fingers, even featherlight, had you twitching

you took the time he used to work his boxers off and grab protection from his night stand to catch your breath, and let it sink in

everything, how sweet he was being, how well he stimulated you, how satisfying the orgasm was, how had you been asked just yesterday, you’d have said with full confidence he’d probably never made a girl come before

maybe you underestimated his game, or maybe he just cared about you

either way, your heart fluttered involuntarily when he grabbed your hand, interlocked your fingers and rubbed soothing circles along your knuckles while he waited to push into you

when he did, you couldn’t help the surprised noise that came from your lips. not because he hadn’t warned you, but because of the stretch

he took his time, not letting go of your hand, not changing up his pace.

he looked over at you after finally opening his eyes, originally having closed them when he’d bottomed out, to see you already looking at him, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

your eyes were filled with a look of what he placed as uncertainty, and he smiled, using the hand not holding yours to push your hair back out of your face sweetly, hoping it would reassure you

you just blinked, lips parting in realization; mark truly liked you

you used your free hand to cup the back of his head, connecting your lips once again. he felt all of the previous pressure lift from his shoulders, hips pressing taught against yours and staying there for a moment before he resumed thrusting

you moaned into his mouth, and he hummed in return.

he pulled his lips away from yours, pressing your foreheads together while he gave you one last thrust, the two of you toppling harshly over the edge simultaneously

he hissed, trying to work you through your orgasm while not overstimulating himself, and it was all perfect.

your quiet huffs, struggled moans while you tried to keep quiet for his housemates’ sake, were perfect. the way your thighs twitched was perfect, and the way you hugged onto him when he collapsed onto you was perfect.

he pulled out of you, rolling over and throwing out the condom. you immediately turned onto your side, cuddling into his chest and holding onto him tight.

“y/n?” you hummed, eyes already closed and legs tangling into his

“that wasn’t just, like, a heat of the moment thing, i really- i really, really like you, y/n” you could hear his heart pounding and feel his skin go hot under yours, and you smiled.

you pressed your hand to his chest, feeling his heart slow down significantly under the contact

“are you asking me out, estapa?” you mumbled, earning a chuckle and a sweet kiss on the lips

“if that’s okay with you,” he answered, and you grinned sleepily

“more than okay”

[livelaughghoul]

Oscar Piastri Personality and Career Tarot Reading

Disclaimer: This is for entertainment purposes only, nothing observed or taken away from this should be considered fact. As a reminder, I know fuck all about Formula 1, I just like fast cars and have a dumb amount of knowledge of astrology and tarot. 

Since I am just recently getting in F1, the first race I actually watched was the Hungary GP. Which like, what an introduction to the sport. Since then I have watched a lot of the replays from prior races, but my knowledge outside of the track is nonexistent. Having this be my first introduction to Oscar was interesting, and I think that there is a lot to unpack there between the team dynamic and the way they approach and relay information to both Oscar and Lando. I may end up doing a reading on two of them at some point, but we will see how I am feeling. 

This spread is actually amazing to me, because we have one of the better Swords followed with a slew of Cups. I love that we are mixing Swords and Cups (even if we are Cup dominated), because Swords are very self focused, almost interalized, whereas Cups are incredibly emotional. I think that it specifically being the Two of Swords really telling, especially with the specific correlation of the Cups we pulled. 

I really love this spread, like a lot. I usually don’t care much for wanting to learn more about the people on the grid, but I actually am interested in getting to know more about him because this is just so interesting to me. I might actually look into someone other than Jenson Button, Sebastian Vettel, and Kimi Raikkonen (honestly I owe that anon SO MUCH, because you truly have made my life so much better with these men). 

Outward personality - Two of Swords

This card has a soft spot in my heart because it absolutely is the introvert card. It’s protective in nature, and more reserved. While I don’t think it’s a full avoidance of feeling or expressing things, but it definitely is a more thought out or silent approach to emotions and expressing them. Since things are more reserved, there is going to be a lot to go through to develop a friendship or relationship with Oscar. I see a lot of people referring to him as a cat (which is hilarious, I love this), and I think that is really seen in this card positioning. Cats take time to develop trust in people, but when they do, it’s lifelong and so rewarding. Cats are also really good at masking how they really feel, I think that there is a lot of masking and hiding of things in terms of how he is feeling or what is being experienced. 

Inward personality - Ten of Cups

Interally, once you break past the resting bitch face and flat affect, you feel nothing but valued, delight, and at home. The Ten of Cups is like, coming home to your family after a long day at work and just getting to feel valued and at home. It’s a happiness, feeling fulfilled and loved. I love the switch up of the outward personality being this like professional brickwall, and then on the inside there is this soft gooey center filled with love and affection.

Current career - Queen of Cups, reversed

I’m not a huge fan of this one when it comes to the career, because I think that this has the possibility of being too willing to take everything lying down, allowing others to essentially make the decisions for you, and almost put yourself in a secondary or lower positioning. There is a lot of tenderness in this card, and I think that while yes, Oscar absolutely can be aggressive and challenge things, I think that there is alot of hesitancy in this. There is going to be this patience and accepting of whatever he is told to do. It absolutely tells me that he is a team player, but I think that there may be too much of prioritizing of others instead of himself. 

Future career - Three of Cups, reversed

No matter where he goes in his career, who is on a team with, or what his support team looks like, this man is making friends and building a community wherever he goes. Oscar is going to be able to foster a community wherever he ends up, and this is going to make work so much smoother, especially when there is a transitional period that happens. 

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires - Part 13

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 1298

Masterlist

(I guess Joe's willingness to murder is more book-Joe than show-Joe, but whatever. I can't help that I'm halfway through the first book right now.)

Minor warning: masturbation is briefly mentioned.

Some things, you just can't learn about a person until you're in a relationship with them.

For example: you like to be kissed, often. Softly and sweetly, but also with intent, until you can't breathe. You smile into kisses and when I pull away, you tilt your head and the smile doesn't leave.

I live for that smile.

Also, you're not always nice. You run out of energy and you stonewall me. When you get like that there is nothing I can do to make it better, except leave. This happens most often when you've had a busy day at work, and one day soon we're probably going to have a beautiful fight about it, but for now I let you close down and shut me out. I really do try not to take it personally.

You don't care if I look at your phone. Sometimes you even ask me to check texts for you. This would make me incredibly happy, except aside from me, the only people you text in English are your coworkers.

You're more secretive about your laptop, which makes me wonder what I missed when I looked at it. I guess I didn't really do much digging. But when I do check it out again, even digging doesn't turn up anything.

Weird.

You're a bit of a slob. I knew that already, but I didn't know it would be so easy to take things from your apartment. You don't notice when items go missing, or if I move them around while you're not there. You did comment on your missing toothbrush, but you just assumed you misplaced it yourself.

“I swear, Joe, if my head wasn't attached to my body…”

All of this, I've learned over the course of two months. Two amazing months of being with you. Only it doesn’t always feel like I am with you, because you haven't told Nadia or your mother or even Grey about me, and I've been checking. After you told him you had a crush on me, he tried to find out more about me and you avoided the subject by writing to him about how much you like Angel from Buffy the vampire slayer. (If I could beat up a fictional character, I would.)

And we haven't had sex.

We've gotten close a few times, but you always pull away just when things are getting hot and heavy. Sometimes when you're alone, you masturbate several times in a row and I know you think of me, (Y/n). I can see it on your face. But when we're together, you look embarrassed and tell me you're not ready and I am patient, I am, but how can you not be ready when you are so obviously eager for it? Even dreaming about it?

I still don't like your coworkers. They are rude to you and belittle you, and they make inappropriate jokes in the groupchat. This is why I almost say no when you invite me to a company lunch, but in the end I say yes because at least you're inviting me somewhere.

“It won't be like last time,” you assure me. “No alcohol, for one.”

And you're right. It isn't like last time: it's worse.

I’m pretty sure your job is a scam, (Y/n). Nobody who works at your agency (other than you) actually needs to make money. The owner, Sam Carr, is a man in his fifties who considers this entire venture a hobby. He has two other companies, neither of which are making any money, but he doesn't need to make money because he is the kind of rich that goes back generations, to before white people even lived in America. Yet he pays you peanuts and you have to borrow money from your grandfather over and over again.

Sam's wife is Pam (which is short for Pamela, but Sam thinks it's hilarious for them to be Sam and Pam). She is only a little over half his age (thirty) and twice as smart as him, and you know this. You address her like she's the owner, and when she's around, you don't even talk to Kim, whose approval you were so eager for last time. Pam comes from old money, too, and has started several foundations throughout her life, all of which are doing well.

There's Judy Allen, who is tall and blond and keeps her lips pursed at all times. She does the same thing you do, copywriting, but her real job is being a momfluencer on Instagram, showing her kids off like accessories. Out of everyone here she is the nicest to you, but I can't tell if she means it or not and neither can you. You are nice to her, but you address her like you would a teacher, or a distant relative.

Jasper is so much worse than I remember him. He follows you around like a lost puppy and you let him. You glance at me, testing me, and I hate this side of you. I hate who you are around these people.

Surprisingly little is eaten, though there is much more on the table than even an entire orphanage could put away. You and your coworkers talk about Google and helpful content and black hat SEO and I don't understand anything any of you are saying.

At some point somebody asks me what I do. I grit out that I work in a bookstore and you look up and say: “he's being modest. He manages it” and I feel kind of proud. But then the person who asked me what I do in the first place starts asking me about the store's website and I have to admit that actually, Mooney's doesn't have one.

“I prefer things a little more old fashioned,” I try to justify, and then realize immediately how incredibly dumb I must sound to these people. “I mean, sometimes we sell a first edition on Ebay.”

You pat my leg underneath the table, which is code for 'shut up', so I do.

“You could always ask (Y/n) to help you make a website,” Jasper says, and he is looking way too intently at your chest as you reach across the table for a croissant. “She's surprisingly good at it.”

Surprisingly good? Seriously, (Y/n), I want to bash this guy’s teeth into his skull.

But you act like it's a compliment. You blush and wave him off and shake your head at me.

“You'd be better off hiring someone who actually knows how to make websites. I can write your content, though, if you want.”

I don't even want a fucking website, but I nod.

“Maybe.”

Finally, we can leave. I don't know what the point of any of that was.

In the cab, you slump against me and close your eyes, and you say: “Did you see the way Jasper kept staring at my boobs? I fucking hate that guy.”

Faith in you restored. I never should have doubted you.

“He just will not leave me alone lately,” you complain, and I wrap an arm around your shoulder and press a kiss to the side of your head. “But when I tell him off, he goes and tells Kim I'm being rude. She told me I need to be more of a team player, you know.”

But you are a team player, (Y/n). It's just that those people aren't on your team. I'm on your team.

“He's basically harassing me, and if I wanna keep my job I can't do a damn thing about it.”

“Fuck him,” I say.

And I mean it. Fuck Jasper. Fuck him and every man like him who thinks he can own a woman just because he has money and connections.

Jasper's gotta go.

[ohfuckthisisreal]

Okay so I don’t write fanfiction anymore but as a new years treat for fellow Angela simps I just had to put something out. Please excuse any mistakes this is going out at 7 am and I haven’t slept yet. Enjoy!

Hot for Teacher

It was a shooting day in the Smosh Office and you couldn’t believe how lucky you were to be actually here. Smosh has been one of your favorite Channels since they started adding new cast members. Shows like Let’s do this or Culinary Crimes became your comfort watch after a hard day. So to be standing here, about to be in an actual video felt surreal. You started attending an Improv Class, to hone your skills because my god were you awkward for an 21 year old. You didn’t think much of your Professor at first, he was a little crazy and awkward himself but then you recognized him. It was Patrick, he worked as a writer for Smosh sometimes. You were stoked! Learning from someone who put out scripts for your favorite shows? It couldn’t get any better. When one day he came into class and offered us all to be in a video. It’s not like no was ever an option. So here you were, standing with your classmates, waiting to be called onto set.

„Hey!“ a voice called out.

You all turned to see Kimmy approaching you with Patrick in tow.

„Hey it’s so nice to finally meet you!“ Kimmy greeted you cheerfully. „How are you all feeling? Nervous or more excited?“

We all looked at each other mumbling a few yeahs before Hilary stepped up and started chattering „Honestly both! This is way cooler than I expected!“

„It’s pretty sick right“ Patrick grinned before he turned serious „so let me tell you how things are gonna go. We will go onto set which will kinda look like a classroom. Three cast members will then stand before you. They will have to ”teach“ you on a subject they chose and you will have to rank them on how well they did, educational value etc… sounds easy enough right?“

„So we treat this like a normal class basically?“ you asked this time.

„Yeah basically but don’t expect to learn anything“ Patrick joked. You grinned. You would be impressed if they actually managed to teach you something.

„Okay if the rules are all clear shall we move to the set?“ Kimmy asked.

We nodded and followed the two to the honestly pretty impressive classroom set. You all get settled, yourself choosing a seat at the back. Mics were put on you and cameras were turned on. Nerves started to manifest in you.

„This is it“ you thought „I’m about to be in a Smosh video!!“ The doors to the set opened and the nerves you had turned even more intense.

„Oh no“ you realized with quite horror and excitement that Angela was about to be one of the Teachers. This was fine. It’s not like you had a giant crush on her or anything. Nope. Totally fine.

„Okay, don’t think gay thoughts“ you felt yourself starting to sweat but you took some deep breaths to calm down „just pretend you’re not gay for an hour. Shouldn’t be that hard considering it took you 16 years to come out“ Granted you were only 21 but it’s the thought that counts right?

Taking one last deep breath you faced the front of the class with the most neutral face you could muster. Mics were put on Angela, Shayne and Tommy with some last minute discussions happening. The three seemed very nervous themselves. And then it was time. Patrick ushered them onto set and the tapes began rolling.

„Hello everyone!“ Patrick started talking „todays video will be an exciting one, that I can promise you. Recently I became an actual Professor, don’t laugh Ang!“ he jokingly glared at Angela who had her hand over her mouth to quieten her giggles.

„ it’s not that hard to believe“ an eye roll in her direction „anyways I started teaching an Improv class and these here are my students“ he gestured to you, you all getting the cue to wave or smile at the camera directed at you. Accidentally your eyes started to drift torwards Angela only to find her already staring at you. Hastily you diverted your gaze, cheeks beginning to turn a light red.

„Focus“ you chided yourself, face pulling back into a neutral position. Patrick’s talking bringing your attention forwards again.

„We thought it would be funny if some of our cast members would get a shot at attempting to teach. So we brought in my actual students to judge you and beware you will be judged harshly.“ He grinned. Tommy looked unbothered but Shayne and Angela were fidgeting, clearly nervous about this.

„So Tommy why don’t you go first?“ Patrick asked

„Sure“ Tommy shrugged. Angela and Shayne shuffling to the back. Right behind you.

„Oh no“ a subtle scent of Vanilla drafted up your nose as Angela passed by you, arm accidentally grazing yours. „Fuck she smells good too. God help me overcome this day without making a fool of myself.“ Tommys turn began and you can honestly say you did not pay the attention you were supposed to. The thought of Angela standing right behind you making you more anxious than you thought it would. Briefly you wondered if you would get to talk to her after the video was done but clapping interrupted your thoughts on that quickly. You clapped too, attempting to look like you’ve been listening.

„Alright! Give it up for Tommy. Not a bad first attempt but I also have to say I really don’t know where you were going with this. But go on Diane, let Angela take your place“ Patrick gestured to Angela, wanting her to be the next Teacher. You were confused. Who the hell was Diane?? What did you miss? Angela shuffled by you again, grazing your arm for a second time that day. Did she do that on purpose? The classroom wasn’t that small. As soon as she reached the front, she whirled around and began her presentation.

„Alright listen up folks. The name is Angela and I will be your teacher today but first check under your desk“ muttering and scattering filled the room as students moved their desk to look under it. A plastic bag filled with Candy was stuck to the bottom of it. Energy began filling the room at once. Was this bribery? If so it fucking worked. You glanced up happily grinning only to catch Angela’s gaze again. Her brown eyes looking at you briefly before giving you a quick wink, turning back to the rest of the class.

„ I had a plan for this once “ she spoke melancholy „ but then on a fateful night where I went roller blading with Patrick“ a glance in his direction found him chuckling to himself, most likely knowing where this is going.

„I broke my arm and man let me tell you it’s hard to think with only one functioning arm“ she joked. Was it funny? No but did you laugh? Of course you did. You were a simp for everything this woman did. An appreciative glance in your direction again.

„So instead of doing anything useful, how about a little q&a session huh folks?“ she perched on the edge of the desk and you were hit once again with how gay you were for this woman. You let your eyes rover over her starting from the bottom, making your way up, letting it end at her eyes that you realized with shock have been staring at you. Watching you check her balantly out. Averting your eyes and slouching at your desk you hope this will be over soon. This was beginning to get embarrassing. But what could you do. She was truly the most stunning woman you have ever seen and you were very very gay. Resolutely staring at your desk for the remainder of her turn you let her voice wash over you.

„maybe one day I’ll get to hear her sing live“ you wistfully smiled. Clapping erupted around you again and you quickly joined.

„Alright uh I don’t think this was the point of this but good try Angela?“ clearly Patrick was not impressed but still giving her two thumbs up to lesson the blow.

„Hey it was your fault I couldn’t get anything better done in time“ she teased. Making space for Shayne she slowly walked past your desk, fingers moving like slow mo in your direction only to lightly graze your neck. Shivers erupted on your body. Goosebumps trailing up your arm. You sat up straight. What the hell was that? Did she really?? You sneakily glanced behind you to where she stood with Tommy but she wasn’t acknowledging you this time. Shayne’s turn began and ended and you could honestly say you did not retain an ounce of information. Your mind replaying that moment over and over again. Patrick and the three “teachers“ gathered at the front to end the video. Yourself and your classmates getting called to do your individual interviews as soon as the camera stopped filming. You stood up, getting ready to walk to your designated area when a hand catches your arm. Angela’s face appearing in front of you. You blushed seeing her so up close.

„Come I’ll show you where you need to go!“ without even waiting for an answer she dragged you towards where your classmates are getting situated. Only she took a left turn, beginning to walk a little faster before lightly shoving you into what you assume is a closet or storage room.

„Hey uh what ar-„ you get cut off. By the pair of softest lips you have ever kissed. You melt into it, sighing into her mouth when her fingers began to tangle into your hair. Angela broke the kiss for a moment.

„I saw you staring at me“ she husked into your ear „ and I can’t say I didn’t hate what I saw either. So here’s how this is gonna go. You call me, we meet up and you better be on your best behavior student“ the end of the sentence was growled, her voice low. You just nod. Your mouth refusing to form any words.

„Good“ she smirked „I’ll see you later then“ she winked, giving you one last kiss before vanishing from the room. You were left alone, a mess from just one kiss, looking down at the crumpled up note containing Angela’s phone number. „Holy shit“ this day did get in fact better.

[trekkele]

I envy Bruce‘s patience. I would not be able to work with people who consistently challenge everything I say on the basis of 'nice theory you control freak. But have you considered the fact that you might be wrong?‘

It‘s like the 'no you!' of preschool. They WANT him to be wrong. Partially because no one wants the worst-case-scrnario to come to pass, but they also just crave that childish sense of superiority.

(Including his family!)

It‘s especially frustrating because 99% of time, it turns out that he was right. And the way this is acknowledged usually feels like he is still the bad guy??? For some reason???

"Sure you were right about our friend going off the deep end, and we would have been fucked if you hadn’t had a plan, and we‘ve seen your 'paranoid' thoughts become reality more often than not- but it hurts OUR feelings (which are infinitely more important than yours btw.) So go fuck yourself I guess."

It doesn’t just make the people around him feel childish, it also makes them feel startlingly unempathetic considering that they‘re supposed to be Superheroes.

Im not going to comment on how often this does/does not happen in canon because while I’m sure it does i simply have not read enough ensemble ‘fallout’ issues to like. Remember. Also i have the memory of a rice sieve.

I will say it is very annoying when I do encounter it canon or in fics, especially when the big makeup chapter involves zero introspection from the rest of the JL and only Bruce apologizing gracefully.

And yeah, the repeated ribbing and poking and general… idk disrespect? Disregard? Deliberately misunderstanding? Is very very annoying and makes it very hard to care about their opinions in general. And semi related but theres a whole genre of “batman wont tell us his secret identity what an asshole” that is just. So childish? I get the appeal!! I really do!! Its a very specific flavor and i have absolutely loved fics where that was one of the conflicts!! But when thats the sole argument for not trusting him, and theyre all supposed to be experienced superheroes who are aware of the risks and what exposure could do to them or their families…

Bruce hates being right can they stop making him be right for like five seconds please

Also canonically Superman is so hesitant with his civilian ID and Batman has yanked off his cowl in downtown Manhattan metropolis to talk to a guy he just met so like. Little but of that would be hilarious.

[lloydfrontera]

Lloyd repeatedly mentions Javier's handsomeness but what is his usual complaint for it?

that he's too perfect. annoyingly so.

What now? It feels like the CGI thingies are getting closer. Someone was in front of him. The glowing mushrooms on the walls lit it softly. Lloyd decided it couldn’t be human. It actually was a human, but Lloyd refused to consider that possibility because of the sheer out-of-this-world handsomeness of the person. Dang, he’s too good-looking. Silvery hair and blue eyes. A perfectly symmetrical face, to the point that he looked like a painting. The smudges on his skin hardly affected his beauty. Though his face was peppered by drops of sweat and blobs of dirt, the man looked as handsome as ever. Heck, he looked charming in a different way because of the dirt. He looked macho. Which stood in stark contrast to his usually noble visage. Crap. I’m getting annoyed seeing his face. It wasn’t fair that a man could be that handsome. His mere existence disrupted the ecosystem. Lloyd was convinced that this guy could not be human. He was a CGI projection that could somehow eat, sleep, talk… Just keep telling yourself it’s only human or you will become too self-conscious to continue wanting to live. - Chapter 26

like. genuinely that's lloyd's main complaint whenever he looks at javier. he's just too handsome. unfairly attractive. cannot possibly be a real person.

i think it was an insane choice by bk moon to make his protagonist think constantly and relentlessly about how hot his best friend is but it's hilarious so i'm okay with it lmao

[campy-mccampface]

you should tell us how you see the loons since you are their #1 fan...

BAHAHAHA YOU’RE SO RIGHTTT.

Dave: “Where will I do my synchronized swimming?!” *Ping Pong pats his back as he sobs* (“It’s No Picnic” Season 1 Episode 4B)

God, I love these nerds. Well, one thing’s for sure: I consider them separate characters. It’s not like The Lemmings in canon where they’re interchangeable. When I write their Bus Pass bios, they’ll each be getting their own. For now, though, I’ll do a little rundown of tidbits for each. I have much, much more in store for these beanpoles than what’s below. I’m a simple bird: I see secondary characters, and I project onto them and make them mine.

Dave Loon

—Canonically he’s the more sensitive of the two brothers. Headcanonically I make that difference even starker: Ping Pong is the kind of nerd you simply can’t win against, while Dave falls apart at the mildest pressure. Love that for him.

—In the show, we’ve seen he’s a grandma’s boy and I really really like that because I was too, haha. (She’s getting a blog tag. Nana Loon. I’m sure I’m not done with writing her.) That sort of implies he prefers her over his parents, but I wouldn’t say so. He loves his parents. (Also it’s. Hilarious how Ping Pong knew they came from eggs and Dave didn’t. I consider that another sign of his higher maturity.)

—Dave and Ping Pong are the only scouts who can fly, emphasis on ‘can.’ Dave haaaates flying, it makes him so nervous (but what doesn’t) and he only ever does it when Ping Pong’s flying with him. If not, he’s completely grounded.

—Dave has a huge crush on Lazlo, (who clearly feels in the same way in return, see the episode “The List,” which lives rent-free in my noggin,) and because it’s Dave he’s a huge mess about it. He blushes, he stammers, he shies away, usually hiding behind Ping Pong’s back, the latter of which is a reflex for him in most situations anyway. (Also, because this is a Joe Murray cartoon, in his worst moments Dave will at times spontaneously burst into flames, with no ill effects. No one considers it novel or dangerous. It’s just a thing that happens, like your shoe coming untied.) Ping Pong loves them together, and because he’s a big brother, gives Dave lots of friendly teasing about it.

—Dave’s the younger brother, hatching a few minutes later. Nonetheless, they’re called ‘Dave and Ping Pong’ collectively without variation, presumably to be in alphabetical order.

—Dave’s the more passionate of the two about journalism. That’s not to say Ping Pong doesn’t love it; he really does, but as they mature, Dave’s the one who retains his interest while Ping Pong pursues another avenue: music. But he especially liked it when it gave him something to play at with his little brother. (Dave would gasp at the insinuation this was all just ‘playing.’)

—In my wife💛 and I’s Future Au, which we call “Refried Beans,” Dave and Lazlo marry and set to living year-round in the attic of Scoutmaster Lumpus’ cabin. Dave works for the Prickly Pines newspaper, and Lazlo is now Scoutmaster’s Assistant, while Slinkman is now Scoutmaster. Lumpus is retired but still lives in the cabin too, and they’re all joined by Jane, and her presence is the only thing keeping Lumpus from going axe-murderer at the fact he’ll never, ever escape Lazlo.

Ping Pong

—As I’ve said, his real name in my headcanon is Bruce. This is hardly ever used. There’s a reason he became Ping Pong but I’ve yet to decide why.

—Ping Pong is the more mature of the two canonically. Headcanonically he’s unstoppably stable and unflappable. You can’t bully him and get anywhere without him turning your namecalling back on yourself and more cleverly. You can’t beat him in a fight. You can only make him feel endangered after everyone else in the room feels endangered first. This first came about out of necessity to toughen up to defend Dave, and it then became further ingrained because Ping Pong’s the biggest smart alec in the Western Hemisphere and he gets a kick out of being able to sort you out while reading his book at the same time. He’s like if Yakko Warner had feathers and legit booksmarts on top. (What a powerful creature.)

—In the “Radio Free Edward” episode, we get a passing line that he intends to play classic rock for the camp’s radio station. I’ve decided to run with this and say classic rock’s his passion and true calling. He becomes a legit star in short order by his late twenties in my au and it just never goes away. If I had to describe his singing voice, (and you’d never expect him to have it, and I find that hilarious,) it’s like Bruce Springsteen, Angus Young, Rod Stewart, Rick Springfield and Freddie Mercury all had their vocal chords fused in a laboratory. It’s insane.

—I think it was “Beans are from Mars” where the show erroneously calls Dave, Ping Pong and Edward cabinmates? I’m gonna do a Bob Ross, call that a happy accident and say it was true… for like two weeks. But what a formative two weeks. Edward I guess had had enough of the Dungs and demanded new cabinmates. So he went with the Loons and because Samson’s unlucky, he went with the Dungs. (I think he and the Dungs get called cabinmates that episode too.) It was during those two weeks Edward decided he’s head over heels for Ping Pong, (but he won’t admit it, being Edward.) Ping Pong is completely wise to this, not that Edward knows, and really likes toying with him. And mercilessly snarking and outwitting him. Then he starts crushing too. (I like to think their little picnic with Dave in “Snake Eyes” was basically a first date.) Then of course they switch back to their usual cabinmates, but there’s been a sea change where they’re no longer just two guys who like talking smack to each other. And by the time of Refried Beans, (basically the present,) they’ve also gotten married. I’ll save the details on that for now. It’s a doozy.

Both

—They’re from Canada originally but moved with their family, including Nana Loon, to California at a young age. They’re both also fluent in French. At camp, they like to tease Edward by pretending to talk about him in French, which he doesn’t understand, when they’re actually discussing the weather or licorice ropes. (Later on, Edward likes when Ping Pong speaks French. Like, embarrassingly melting like butter on a freshly baked baguette. Ping Pong finds it funny. But what about Edward doesn’t he find funny, I ask you.)

—Their parents are also nerds. Go figure. Their father is a professor at a college, (I haven’t decided what he teaches,) and their mother is a semi-famous novelist. She knitted them the turtlenecks they received in “The Big Cheese.” Lumpus does indeed confiscate them for fishing pole cozies, but Mrs. Loon wrote a strongly worded letter threatening to mention his misgivings at her next book release. In the end, the Loons got their sweaters back, Larry his sneakers back, etc.

[megamindsecretlair]

It Started With a Whisper

Chapter 2

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. This starts off tame, pure fluff. Soft Sam. Cursing and allusions to body parts and sex. This series will get explicit so I will keep the community label on mature. There will be angst and smut. Mentions of sick parents, responsible adulting, and unfair burdens. AAVE intentional language.

Summary: This starts off about a week or so before Captain America and The Winter Soldier. You are the front desk clerk who started a few months ago and you have a major crush on Sam Wilson, the handsome and sweet trauma counselor. Your best friend suckers you into going with Sam on a coffee run.

Word Count: 2,275k

Masterlist

A/N: The more I rewatch The Winter Soldier, I know I'm primarily drooling over Seb like everyone else, but I've really come to appreciate Sam. He's hilarious and Anthony Mackie is perfect. I just wanted to contribute a little something. While likes are awesome, please consider commenting and reblogging to support writers!

“You got a little drool there," Your best friend, Ariel, said and smacked your face with a folder. You jumped, pulled from your daydreaming, and smacked her back.

“Am not,” you muttered. You covertly wiped your mouth and Ariel laughed. “I saw that, ho,” she said.

You rolled your eyes and shuffled papers in front of you, grumbling to yourself. You didn’t want to look, but your eyes were drawn towards the front. Towards Sam. He stood talking to a veteran after their meeting and he was engaged, focused, listening. You briefly wondered what it would be like to have that focus on you.

You mentally shook yourself. You did not need those problems. Still, your eyes tracked him. How he moved, how he laughed. His smile was infectious. He was the type that not only heard you, but listened. 

“When are you gonna tell that boy how badly you want to rip his–”

“Shush!” You scolded. 

Ariel laughed and continued filing away client files. “He’s way over there, you think he can hear me?” 

You shrugged. “We just found out Norse gods are real, supersoldiers coming back from the ice and shit, and aliens tried to take over New York. So yeah, you never know.” 

Ariel laughed. “If Sam is special or whatever, don’t you think we would’ve found out by now? With how much you stare at him?” 

“Hey, I don’t stare. It’s not like I can look at anything else. This is literally the front desk.” 

Ariel held up her hands. “He ain’t sorry to look at. I’m just sayin’. You’d know if his fine ass had any super powers.”

You rolled your eyes again and focused on the meeting schedule in front of you and client emails. You bit your lip as you concentrated, intent on actually getting some work done. 

Veterans Affairs was usually a chill place. As the front desk clerk, there wasn’t a lot of responsibility. Which you preferred. The hours were flexible, boss was understanding, and despite Ariel always talkin’ shit, you had good company. And yeah, the view wasn’t bad.

Again, your mind drifted to Sam. It didn’t make any sense for him to look that fine working in a place like this. But he was good with the veterans. His groups filled up fast sometimes, to the point where he’d stay for just one more. 

You sighed. You were a grown woman. You had no business lusting after a man. 

“Good afternoon, ladies.”

You jumped and looked over at Sam. Sam, standing in front of you. Sam, looking at you and smiling. You froze. Did you conjure him? Did he catch you staring?

Ariel elbowed you as she turned in the small front desk area and leaned on the desk. “Good afternoon, Sam. How goes it?” 

“Afternoon,” you managed to mumble. You think. Idiot. How exactly do you talk to a man that you were just picturing naked? You bet it was big too. Fuck. You were thinking it again.

“Pretty good. I got some time before my next group. I was going to head to the cafe up the street and get something.” Sam kept his eyes fixed on you. You pointedly did not look at him. You didn’t care if you were being rude. You just wanted your face to stop giving away your nasty thoughts.

“Really! What a coincidence. Y/N was just saying she felt a little peckish,” Ariel said. 

You whipped your head towards her and glared. You stumbled over your words. You couldn’t deny that shit fast enough. 

“I-uh, well, my-my family packed something for me,” you said. 

Sam laughed. “Don’t worry, I know you don’t want to be seen around town with someone like me.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head. “That’s not true! I would never��I mean, I’m not…”

Sam laughed again. “I’m joking, Y/N.” How did he manage to make your name sound so…melodic? 

You laughed nervously and licked your lips. You were a well educated woman, oldest child, and Sam turned you into a bumbling idiot. 

“One of these days I’ll wear you down. You’ll have to give me a good excuse or go on and accept a date with me.” 

Your cheeks couldn’t burn hotter. You thanked whoever was listening that your dark skin hid your blush. “Sam…”

He shook his head and waved you off. “I’m not pressuring you, I swear. I’m just sayin’, I’m a good time.” His smirk made his high cheekbones stick out. 

“She knows it. She’s just stubborn,” Ariel said. 

You stood up and bumped her with your hip, offering a small and fake apology. “I am not,” you said.

“I know it. I’ll have to impress her, right? Get her to take a chance on me?” Sam asked Ariel.

“Mhhm, poor thing needs to be hit over the head,” Ariel said. 

“Are ya’ll done laughing at my expense?” 

“No!” Sam and Ariel said at the same time. You rolled your eyes and put your hands on your hips. 

Hell, you didn’t know why you kept saying no anyway. Well, you did. But your excuses never fazed Ariel. You had a busy home life, with family that depended on you. Was it really fair to start something up if you couldn’t follow through? 

Ariel would say yes. That you deserved fun. That it didn’t have to be anything other than casual. But your crush was anything but casual. You wanted this man, biblically. You couldn’t string two sentences around the man. 

But did you want your family to run your life? Just because you were responsible didn’t mean you had to be boring. You weren’t always like this. This…goop of a puddle who couldn’t look a man in the eye. You were gorgeous, goddamn it! You had curves, a nice ass, and a cute face. Tits weren’t bad either. 

“One trip to the cafe?” You asked.

Sam grinned and nodded. “One trip. Harmless,” he said and shrugged his shoulders.

Mhmm. You looked at Ariel who pumped her fist. The bitch could at least be subtle about it. You giggled and gathered your purse.

“It appears I’m taking my break now,” you told Ariel. 

“Take ya time. All the time you need,” Ariel said and eyed Sam up and down. She was embarrassing enough for the both of you.

You exited the closed off desk area, returning the half door to its place. You were doing it. You were standing next to him. You also felt like you were going to throw up, but you’d take the victory where you could.

Sam led the way out of the VA building and you blinked into the late DC sun. You forgot how dark it could be in the building. You needed to head out more and get some sun on your bones.

Together, you walked with Sam towards the small cafe on the corner. You walked in silence for a bit, biting the inside of your cheek. You were so painfully awkward.

“I gotta say, I’m shocked to see you out from behind the desk.”

You laughed. “Not what you was picturing?” You asked.

“Better.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Boy…”

He laughed. “I’m sorry,” he said and didn’t look the least bit sorry. He always looked like he knew a secret you didn’t. Instead of looking like an asshole, he looked like he was dying to tell it.

“Can you blame me? I’ve been askin’ for months.” He said. You waited at a corner for the light to turn so you could cross. Sam got on the other side of you, so that he was closest to the oncoming traffic. Your heart melted a tiny bit.

DC was expansive and yet seemed so small. Cars were jam packed, honking, and everyone was rushing around. Everyone walked with a purpose, some place to be and something to do. There was a light breeze and the sun was losing its heat.

“I’m sorry about that…”

“I’m not saying it to make you feel bad. I’m just sayin’ I’m grateful I get to spend any time with you. Whatever you’re cool with, I promise.”

“I like that you ask me out. I hate havin’ to say no.” You admitted. It was so damn true, it hurt. You did hate saying no. You hated that he would smile through it all, so understanding. But you knew he was disappointed. 

“Why do you say no?” He asked. He asked it softly, not judging. Sam was so damn sweet, you should have a cavity.

You took a deep breath as you crossed the street. It was a loaded question. Where did you start? A hermit mom who was too scared to leave the house after New York? Your stubborn but ailing dad who refused to go to the hospital? Your wild and out siblings who never took shit seriously? 

“Home life is kind of…chaotic. After New York, everyone’s been on edge. I know it was two years ago, but it doesn’t really help. We had live footage that nasty aliens exist.” 

Sam nodded his head. He held the door open for you as you went inside the cafe. The heavenly aroma of fresh bread and coffee made your mouth water. The cafe was smallish, mostly for getting the order to go. There were tables and chairs for people to sit but they were all occupied. 

The shop itself had a new age, almost hippy vibe but was every inch the upscale coffee shop political types loved. Everything was modern, clean, and even had a chalkboard menu. Because of course they did.

You stood in line. “Yeah, that was insane to watch on TV before the cameras went down. I’ve talked to plenty of people that still fear going outside. You afraid of another attack?” 

You sighed. You knew he wouldn’t judge you, bless him. But it wasn’t you that was afraid. Your mother’s nerves were so bad, they were contagious. It was easier to stay home than have her call you ten times per minute to make sure you were safe. Yes, you were aware that it had nothing to do with you. But you were trying, okay? 

“Not me, exactly,” you said and laughed. “It’s hard to explain.”

“It’s cool. You don’t have to. But I’m here if you ever need someone to talk to,” he said.

You smiled at him. “Thanks, Sam.”

He smiled. You approached the barista and ordered. You reached for your wallet when Sam stopped you. “I asked you here, it’s my treat.”

“Sam, no. I can pay for my order.”

“Never said you couldn’t. My treat,” he said. He handed the barista his card and paid for the order anyway. You scowled. It only made him laugh.

“It’s only a few bucks.” 

“That’s not the point. I don’t like people paying for me,” you said.

“Not even as a treat?” He asked. You both moved off to the side to wait for your coffee and muffin. 

“Not really,” you said.

Sam smiled. “I’m sorry. Tell you what. We can walk here again tomorrow and I’ll let you pay. I’ll even order the most expensive thing on the menu.”

You laughed and shook your head. “You just want to walk here again with me.”

“Did it work?” He asked.

You pursed your lips. Dammit, yes. You nodded and he celebrated. “I’ll take it.”

You grabbed your order and headed back towards the building, asking how he got started into counseling. 

“Counseling helped me a lot when I got back. I wanted to pay it forward. I’m pretty good at talkin’ to people. Figured it was my calling,” he said.

“You ever miss it?” 

Sam shrugged and sipped some of his coffee. You admired anyone who could walk and drink. Your drink would’ve ended up all over your outfit. And you rather liked these jeans and your flowery blouse.

“Yes and no? I don’t miss the action. I miss my brothers though. There’s a deep bond you form over there that never really leaves you.” 

You nodded. You never served but you heard that sentiment repeatedly as they checked in for groups, signed up for others, or needed resources. The military chewed you up and spat you out and never stopped to give a damn.

You continued to learn more about him, more than you managed to pick up when you started working at the VA. He was from Louisiana, he has a sister, and two nephews. His parents owned a fishing business. 

He was so easy to talk to, once you got past your initial dirty thoughts and weird hangups about him. He made you laugh so many times on the way back, your sides were hurting as you entered the dimly lit, bland government building. He walked you back to the front desk where Ariel was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Nothing for me? I’m hurt.”

“Good. That’s what you get for being a smart ass,” you said.

“Got your behind out walking with him, didn’t it?” Ariel laughed and high-fived Sam.

You narrowed your eyes. “I hope ya’ll didn’t plan this,” you said.

Sam held up his hands, raising his cup in the air. “On my honor as an Airman, I did not plan this.” He walked backwards as he winked at you.

“Until tomorrow, Y/N.”

“Bye, Sam,” you said and rolled your eyes. Even if it was a set up, you didn’t mind. You had a lot of fun. 

You entered the booth and sat down. Ariel leaned her hip against the desk and flipped her long hair over her shoulder.

“Spill, bitch!”

Masterlist | Chapter 2

[lucienarcheron]

Tales of the Fox & the Fawn - XIV

Season I - A series of short snippets to fill my Elucien heart.

Masterlist

Bringing Sexy Back

Lucien’s head shot up as the front door of his home slammed shut.

“Elain?”

He could only blink rapidly as his mate came stomping into the room, face flushed in anger and she stood in front of him, arms crossed.

“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.” he immediately blurted but Elain’s angry scowl only deepened.

“It’s not you.”

“Then what’s wrong, dove? Who do I have to fight?”

“Feyre!”

Lucien blinked. “Yeah, no. Not going there, love. Sorry.”

“Lucien!” she growled then stomped her foot, pointing at him. “Tell me the truth!”

“…Alright.”

“Do you think I’m sexy or not?”

Lucien blinked again and his lips twitched. “Uh, of course, I do, dove.”

“I’m serious!” she whined then angrily threw herself on the couch next to him, arms still crossed, scowl still present. “I can be sexy, can’t I?”

He gave her a bewildered look and then snorted. “Elain, where is this coming from?”

Her face fell. “You don’t think I’m sexy?”

“I — I think you’re beautiful, dove. Adorable, stunning, and you definitely can be sexy.” he immediately replied.

“But it’s not the first thing you think of when you think of me, is it?” She asked with a pout. “I’m not considered sexy at all, am I?”

Lucien choked back a laugh. “Elain. The first thing I think of when I see you is how you’re the love of my life. Physical appearance comes way down the list.”

“Ugh, this isn’t the moment to be romantic, Lucien!” Elain said with a huff and he laughed.

“You’re sooo sexy, Elain. Such a sexy pout, my pants get so incredibly tight at the sight of you.”

“Lucien.” she warned.

“Especially when you go around stomping childishly. Too sexy. I can barely handle myself.”

“Keep talking, Lucien Vanserra and I promise you —”

“Stop it, Elain. You’re too sexy when you start threatening me, I just can’t take it.”

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to —”

“That’s it, I’m coming in my pants, be prepared to help me clean.”

“Lucien!”

He finally burst out laughing and Elain huffed, swatting at him, which only caused Lucien to laugh harder. It took him a moment to settle down while she glared daggers at him and finally Lucien sighed.

“What’s this about?”

Elain scowled. “We were looking at dresses and Feyre said this beautiful dress I tried on was too sexy for me but then Nesta tried it on and she said it was perfect for her.” she said. “Meaning I’m not sexy enough to wear it! I told them I could be sexy too but they just started teasing me!”

Lucien bit back another laugh, his lips twitching.

“It’s because I’m not as curvy as they are. And I have small boobs. It’s always the boobs!”

“I love your small boobs, dove.”

She glared at him and he cleared his throat, blinking innocently at her.

“You think this is hilarious, don’t you?”

“No.”

“I see your face, Lucien! Go ahead, laugh!”

He let out a little chuckle and then pulled her against him. “They were just giving you some sisterly love.” he began and Elain made a noise of protest. “Besides, you will always be the sexiest to me. My favorite Archeron sister by far.”

She turned her head to face him and quirked a brow to find him grinning. “Oh, now you play the favorites card, huh.”

“But you are my favorite.”

“I better be.”

“I think you’re very sexy. So sexy.” he continued, nodding. “Too sexy that there aren’t enough words that could properly describe it.”

“Alright, that’s enough.”

“No, no. You must understand. You are the perfect amount of sexy in every way.”

“Enough now.”

“But you’re so incredibly sexy, Elain. I don’t think you understand that I’m about to explode at the sight of you.”

She rolled her eyes with a snort. “Which part of you is about to explode?”

“You know which part, my little dove. Don’t be coy.” he said with a grin. “I can take my pants right off to give you a view if you’d like. Easier for you to help me with it.”

“I think you can help yourself just fine.”

“So sexy.” he whispered, wiggling his eyebrows and Elain’s lips twitched.

“You’re the worst.”

“Even when you’re insulting me, it’s so sexy it hurts.”

“The worst.” she repeated.

“Remember when you fell off the chair while trying to seduce me on our last date night? The sexiest.”

“That happened one time! You said you’d never bring it up again!” Elain gaped with a flush and he burst out laughing all over again.

“I’m just giving you an example of how you could fall off chairs and still be sexy, dove.” Lucien said with a grin and she glared at him. “Sexiness intensified.”

“I’ve never going to try to seduce you again.” she replied with a huff, crossing her arms and Lucien chuckled.

“That’s alright, I’ll do all the work from now on.”

“You sure will be!”  she said, shooting him a glare that was more playful than her previous ones and he grinned. “So you can make up for this unsupportive behavior.”

He exaggerated a gasp. “I am anything but unsupportive. Take off your clothes right now and I’ll show you how supportive I can be.”

She rolled her eyes again and fought back a smile. “You just want me naked.”

“Anything to support all that sexiness you have.”

She groaned. “I should’ve never said anything!”

“I’m going to have a shirt made that says ‘Elain is the sexiest Archeron sister’ on the front and then ‘She’s my mate, suck it’ on the back. Thoughts?”

“I’m going to choke you.”

“Elain, you know that only turns me on.”

“Lucien!”

“This is a losing battle, dove. Claim your losses and just get naked. We’ll both be happy.”

Elain squinted at him then sighed. “Fine. But I want cake after.”

Lucien gave her a wink and a smile. “Anything for the sexiest female in Prythian.”

[catchyhuh]

Hi! Do you take requests for headcanons?

If so - what would each of the gang (Zeni included, cause he's part of the gang in same way, duh!) consider the most romantic Perfect Date ever (and I mean the kind of date they would be very much smitten by, even though they'd absolutely utterly deny it to the end of times)?

oh my god yeah i'd love to do some requests! it's fun to come up with opinions on things i haven’t even thought about before two bee honest SO LET’S GO

lupin: 

lupin’s perfect date is any excuse to spend time with his arm candy honestly. especially one on one but that’s. that’s a different thing we ain’t gettin into that bit just yet THE POINT IS he's not picky in the slightest. the highlight is his company, not the location or task or whatever else

if it was up to him, he’d probably do the standard wine and dine at some unbelievably nice restaurant, y’know. keep it classy but also flex the fact that he can afford to do this (he can afford to do this because the only money leaving his pockets during the whole ordeal was a tip for the waiter. lupin’s a canonical tipper which is hilarious and very real of him)

but he has some hyperspecific romantic fantasy attached to any and EVERY venue. 

jigen: 

you know how this bitch is. he isn’t really the type to like, go on a DATE date. it’s more like “hey i’m going to the bar. you comin” even if he’s been with this person for years. date dates aren’t his thing

the closest i can imagine would be like. lovers lane type shit. you know? take the car off to some outta the way, vaguely woodsy clearing, park it, lay on the hood and just talk, still very casuaHAVE YOU EVER SEEN WAYNE’S WORLD? THE SCENE WHERE THEY’RE LYING ON THE CAR NEAR THE AIRPORT IS JIGEN’S ROMANTIC IDEAL. STUPID CONVERSATION INCLUDED

fujiko:

ok there’s two flavors here because is this her ideal date for romance or for money. that changes the answer slightly. if it’s money she loves the idea of just hanging on the arm of somebody at some nice, ritzy dinner party, she gets an excuse to dress up, eat some good food, and maybe walk away with a few careless guests’ wallets. but i’m going to assume you wanted romance

because of how (almost uncomfortably) familiar she is with fake, performative dates and the like, she (and never tell either of them this) is a bit like jigen in the sense that real love is very casual and understated to her, almost simple. like of course she isn’t complaining when someone’s she’s actually into is offering to take her to some fucking BALL or whatever but at the same time, the idea of simply just laying side by side with their head on her shoulder or vice versa is. comfortable. and she NEEDS comfortable let’s be real

goemon:

starting to realize how absolutely mundane and boring these answers are becoming ANYWAY goemon SAYS the same as the prior two. he SAYS the same. but really, deep down, the idea of setting aside a special time, date, and place just to be with someone he loves is charming to no end to him. not too picky about it himself as long as it's not too flashy

the simplest, easiest answer, but maybe the most true i feel is stargazing. it’s nice, it’s private without being claustrophobic, and think about the picnic possibilities my guy!!! plus, it’s quieter and more peaceful at night, so there’s less of a chance he and his date would be disturbed. i know i already said “its nice” BUT REALLY IT IS NICE

zenigata:

hm. i’m thinking. 

we’re removing lupin as a factor in the context. unless lupin IS the date but EITHER WAY this is a “you have a whole day to yourself for this date wwyd” ordeal. and the answer is probably STAY AT HOME

HE NEVER GETS TO DO IT SO IT'S SPECIAL TO HIM. AND IT'S COZY TOO admittedly he thinks it's expected of him to do a DATE date but really. not to get too graphically sappy here. i think he’d be content just snugglin dude. he needs a break. maybe a good middle ground between what he wants and what he thinks he should do would be going to the theater?