#straight women don’t wear leather like that

[wren-was-here]

“the new mean girls movie was bad blah blah blah”

okay, valid, but pretend you’re a lesbian and then watch it again and get back to me

#i left that movie gayer than i went in #holy shit #also can i just say #straight women don’t wear leather like that #and they certainly don’t look at the new girl like THAT #woman had me in the palm of her hand #mean girls #mean girls 2024 #regina george #renee rapp

[jazzyoranges]

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader (r is also implied to be more masculine-leaning)

Summary: Tara rides you 🤷‍♀️ no Ghostface au

Words: 3.5k

A/n: the card game they play is called “do or drink” so if you don’t understand the rules here, search it up and it’ll probably make more sense

Warnings: G!P reader, explicit sex, unprotected sex (you pull out dw), blowjob, face fucking, Tara lowkey has a size kink, R has a praise kink lol, service top!R, power bottom!T (i think? idk positions that well)

MINORS DNI!!

Tara didn’t really feel like being at this party. Unfortunately for her, she was a victim of peer pressure by Mindy. The twin said something about “getting laid” and how Tara needed to “get some”, but in all honesty, she wasn’t actually listening

The party she was at was cowboy/southern-themed, and Tara opted to wear some plaid and a white crop top. Chad went fully cowboy, through. Tara said he looked like a dork, but his eyes were set on looking like someone from Red Dead Redemption. The brunette didn’t know how he did it, but Chad didn’t even look half bad. Tara swears he has a superpower at looking stupid and not stupid at the same time

Mindy on the other hand, did the least. The twin adorned a black shirt and a brown leather jacket with southern-ish accessories

Chad didn’t bother knocking or ringing the bell over the loud music, and he let himself, Mindy, and Tara into the house. There was a familiar smell in the house. Weed and alcohol absolutely flamed her nostrils, and she scrunched up her nose. When Tara’s eyes landed on you, she swore you were a goddess straight from Texas heaven

“Mindy.”

“I see her, Tara”

“Mindy.”

“No straight woman wears a wife beater. You’re in the clear”

In Tara’s favor, Chad yelled your name and waved you over

“Mindy, Tara, this is Y/N! She coached me back in Woodsboro. She’s also from Texas, so i invited her to show up all the fake cowboys like me” The football player slung an arm around your shoulder, and you held out your hand for the two girls to shake

“Nice to meet you two” Your accent was practically nonexistent, but certain words have you away. When your hand meets Tara’s, yours engulfs hers and she swears she can feel her heart beating in her throat

“Chad speaks well of y’all”

“Really? I’m surprised” Mindy laughs, but Tara is too busy sweating over you to engage in conversation

“I’m gonna introduce Y/N to the rest of our friend group, i’ll see you two around!”

“Have a good night, you two” You tip your hat with a wink, and follow after Chad

“So, wanna explain?” Mindy sends a knowing glance at Tara, a small smirk on her face

“Absolutely not.” The shorter girl makes her way into the kitchen, pouring herself a solo cup of whatever alcohol she can find. Tara chooses to ignore the burning sensation down her throat

“Nope, you’re going to talk right now. I didn’t even know you were into women like her”

“Neither did i, that’s the problem” Tara groans, covering her face with her hands

“What’s the plan?”

“There is no plan, Mindy. I don’t even know how to get close to her…” Eros or Aphrodite must’ve been listening real close because not a second later, she sees you being dragged around by Chad, rounding up a few people to play a drinking card game

“Tara! Mindy! Play drinking games with us? Ethan, Quinn, Y/N, Amber, Wes, Anika, Liv, a few other people and i are playing”

Mindy nods, and they follow you two to the living room, where all the aforementioned people were sitting. Some on the couch and some on the floor. You took your spot on the floor with Chad on your left, and Quinn on your right on the couch.

Chad clears his throat, and all eyes are on him. “Alright! Rules are simple. Everyone has to draw a white card, and do what it says. If you get a white card that says ‘Draw’, you have to get a black card and either do what it says, or drink however much it tells you. Make sense?”

The group nods, and small discussions are made between people. Tara is seated between Mindy, who’s talking to Anika, and Ethan, who’s talking to Chad

“Since i’m the one that wanted to play, i will graciously go first” Chad pulls his white card, and his face lights up. “War! Challenge another player to an arm wrestle. The loser must drink”

The twin gets up, and he points straight at your forehead. “Y/N! This cowboy challenges you in a duel of our arms!”

“How could i say no. I agree to your challenge, my good sir” You shake hands, and make your way to the coffee table in the middle of the room. Tara is on your right, and you give her a perfect view of your bicep

“You look nervous, Chad. Are you afraid?”

“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Therefore, the student always wins” he smiles at you, and your competitive side starts to bubble up

“When i win, i’ll make sure to spoon feed you your own words” readjusting your grip on Chad’s hand, Ethan makes his way over to be the referee

“Three…”

Tara notices your concentrated face, and how you bite your lip in anticipation

���Two…”

You adjust your grip once again, and Tara wonders what else your hands can do

“One!” Ethan lets go of yours and Chad’s attached hands, and they both stay in place. Tara can tell you two were pretty evenly matched

“C’mon, Y/N! Gag him!” Mindy cheers for you

“Don’t listen to her, babe. You got this!” Liv cheers for Chad

“Show him up, Y/N! You’ve got it” Tara cheers with a smile on her face, and you momentarily stop pushing before you catch yourself

“What’s the matter, Y/N? Losing already?”

“We’ll see” When you hear Tara say your name again, a new urge to win rushes through your body. In one swift motion, Chad’s hand meets the table, and those who were supporting you cheer

“What did you say about the student always winning?” You say with a wide grin on your face, and you kiss your arm in a show of ego

“That was a fluke! I want a rematch!” The twin says playfully

“Like you wouldn’t just lose again”

“Whatever, it’s your turn to draw”

You pick up a card, and you laugh to yourself. “Vote! On the count of three, everyone points to the person they think has had sex in the most interesting spot. The player with the most votes must confess their sex spot and take a drink”

“Alright! Three, two, one!” You count down, and mostly everyone is mostly pointing at Quinn

“Geez, what do you guys think of me?” She takes a sip of her drink. “And my most interesting spot was under the bleachers during his football practice”

This goes on until it’s Tara’s turn. Amber got an “All brunettes must drink” card, Anika got to be Simon in Simon Says (which Tara had to drink for losing first), and Mindy drew a card that made all of the single people drink. Luckily for Tara, you drank when Mindy pulled her card

“Your turn, Tara! What’ll you get?” Chad quickly made himself the keeper of cards, sitting in the middle as you sat on the couch in his place. Tara leans over, and she takes a card from Chad. Revealing her card, she see’s it says to draw

“Our very first ‘Draw’ card! I wonder what it’ll be” Chad grins, and Tara pulls a black card from the deck

“Spin a bottle. Whoever it lands on, sit on their lap for the next 2 rounds or both must drink four times”

Oohs are exchanged throughout the group, and Tara rolls her eyes in embarrassment. Less than a second later, Chad hands Tara an empty beer bottle. The twin takes his spot somewhere in the circle, and the brunette spins the bottle

“I’ll pray it lands on her” Mindy playfully nudges her shoulder, and Tara blushes. Neither of you knew it, but both you and the brunette hoped the bottle ended up pointing at you. It went around once, twice, three times

Slowly passing by the person to your right, the bottle points straight at you and you swear time stops for a second. Tara meets your eyes, and you swear she’s blushing when Mindy shoves her towards you

Tara awkwardly sits on your lap, moving to find a comfortable spot

You place a reassuring hand on her hip. “You know you don’t have to do this, right? If you’re uncomfortable, nobody is gonna judge you” Tara can feel your hand leave her side, and the smaller girl has to physically stop herself from letting out a whine of frustration

“I’m not uncomfortable. I just… need to adjust.” The brunette not-so-accidentally grinds her hips against yours, and she swears she hears you let out a tiny groan

It’s Wes’ turn next, but Tara can’t focus as she gropes around the couch for your hands. The alcohol in her system takes over when she leans back into you, and makes you wrap your arms around her torso. You happily oblige

“You having a good night, so far?”

Tara decides to be bold. “It’s definitely better in your lap”

Despite your semi-hard cock uncomfortably rubbing against your jeans, you try your best to learn more about Tara. Asking how her day was, what she’s majoring in, if she has any family; all while the brunette causes more friction by slowly rubbing her ass on your crotch. You have to suppress many moans as she not-so-casually grinds on you

Tara learns that you used to work on a family farm in Texas, but moved to California for college. You told her about the animals, the pumpkin patches, and looking up at the stars with your siblings

Not even noticing it’s your turn again, Chad has to remind you to draw a card. You instantly miss Tara’s heat when she crawls off your lap so you can draw a card. The game goes on for the next hour or so, and you can barely remember what you had to do after all the drinks you’ve had

You end up having to quit the game halfway through when you refuse to send a nude photo of yourself to a random number or take a drink. Tara’s card no longer applies very early on, but she actively decides to sit in your lap for the rest of the game

Amber kicks out the rest of the party-goers around 1 am, and you’ve been tasked to drive Tara and Mindy home. Somehow you’re the least drunk. Since Chad was their ride and he’s off somewhere making out with Liv, you so graciously offered to drive them home.

The ride to Mindy’s house was quiet, but it was a comfortable quiet. You tapped on the steering wheel to the soft music, Mindy was half asleep, and Tara was discreetly trying to look at you from the passenger seat. You dropped Mindy off at her place, and now you were on your way to Tara’s house. The moonlight was hitting your eyes in the right way, causing them to sparkle the tiniest bit Tara had a little staring problem

“Do i have something on my face?”

“Do you want to stay over at my place?” The brunette blurts out, instantly regretting her words. “I mean- uh, if you want…”

“Sure, i’d like to stay over. I’m pretty sure i have some extra clothes in here, anyway. Any scary dogs i should beware of?”

“Does my sister count?”

“Only if she bites” This earns a laugh from Tara, and you mentally pat yourself on the back

“Definitely beware of her. She’s staying at her boyfriends place tonight, so you’re good”

“Noted” You pull into the Carpenters driveway, and both of you get out. Grabbing an extra hoodie, shirt, and shorts, you follow Tara into her house

“Bathroom is on the left. Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Sure, you can pick”

“You’re gonna wish you never said that. Let’s watch The Babadook”

“Seriously? Dude, i used to jump like six feet in the air when the floor boards creaked in the barn”

“You’ll live” Rolling your eyes at her words, you made your way to her bathroom to change. You made sure to freshen up, even though you two were just watching a movie. The smell of buttered popcorn filled your lungs and you could faintly hear the popping kernels

When you leave her bathroom, Tara’s already changed into something more comfortable

“Do we have to watch something scary? Can’t we watch a sitcom or something?”

“Listen, you let me decide but we don’t have to if you don’t wanna” Tara finds her seat on the couch, your shoulders touching when she sits down the bowl of popcorn between you two

“But i will think you’re a pussy”

“The Babadook it is” You click play on the remote, and Tara lays her head on your shoulder. She barely pays attention to the movie, considering she’s seen it far too many times. Instead, the brunette opts to watch you and all of your reactions. You’ve raised the blanket up under your nose and leaned into Tara about 20 times, and the movie is just about halfway through

Every now and again you’d flinch in anticipation, and Tara would rub your thigh in support. You don’t know if your heart is beating due to the movie, or due to Tara practically being on top of you for the second time this night

When the movie ends and the credits roll, you can only stare at the black screen and Tara lets out a laugh

“So, what do you think?”

“I don’t think i’ll be able to sleep tonight, Tara”

“You’ll be okay” The brunette pats your cheek

“Can we watch something lighter? Like My Little Pony?”

“Of course you were a horse girl”

“Actually i was an Equestria Girls girl, thank you” You huff

“Tomato, potato, they were all ponies” Tara rolls her eyes, and smiles “I think i have another horror movie you’ll like. Well, it’s technically a trilogy”

“Absolutely not! I’d like to be able to close my eyes tonight and not hallucinate a monster leaning over me”

“There’s a scene where two girls kiss”

“…Fine.”

An hour in, the two main girls are making out in their bras, and you’re staring quite intensely at the scene. Something in the room shifts, and all of a sudden you start to feel hotter. Tara goes from rubbing your thigh to slowly dragging her hand to your crotch, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. Your breath hitches when she starts to rub your clothed cock

“A-Are we about to do the thing?” You say unsure, but the brunette is already pulling you off the couch and leading you to her room

Before you know what’s happening, Tara is guiding you into her bedroom and pushing you up against a wall. Her kisses are hungry and fast, wanting to taste every part of you. When she starts to fiddle with your shorts, you let out a small laugh at how she huffs in frustration

“Take it off, already.”

“Someone’s needy” You tease

“I’ve been eye fucking you all night. I’m not waiting any longer. I had to drag you here myself”

“I didn’t know if i was reading your signals wrong…” You mumble, and Tara hates how adorable you look. God why were you cute and hot at the same time

“I was grinding on you the entirety of those two rounds at the party”

“You said you were adjusting! I thought my lap was uncomfortable!”

“I hate how the oblivious ones are always the hottest.” Tara finally manages to pull down your shorts through shaky hands, and she feels her mouth water when she sees the small tent in your underwear

“Spider-man boxers?” the shorter girl quirks an eyebrow at you

“I didn’t think i’d have sex tonight” You suck in a breath when Tara starts to rub your cock through your boxers

“Really? You didn’t think you’d get laid tonight looking like this” Tara motions to your entire body with her non-busy hand. “Maybe i should show you how pretty you are. Do you want that, baby?” The brunette squeezes your cock; and you nod, not trusting your voice to do anything but moan

As she gets on her knees, Tara pulls down your boxers just enough to reveal your hardened dick

“Jesus, you’re big…” The brunette says to herself, but you can feel your ego boost at her words. Tara starts to lick the veins on your shaft, and you can feel her massaging your balls. Your cock is drooling pre-cum when Tara kisses your tip, and you let out a breathy moan

“Please, Tara…”

“Tell me what you want, baby”

“Please let me fuck your mouth”

“Let me adjust to your size first. I’ll let you know when you can start, does that sound good?”

“A-Anything you want”

“You’re cute.” Tara kisses your tip again before taking it into her mouth, eliciting a moan from your throat. She swirls her tongue in a way that drives your crazy. Her hands make their way around your thighs, and Tara squeezes your ass as she takes half your cock into her mouth. The brunette squeezes your balls and you hear her gag as her nose meets your lower abdomen. The sight of Tara deepthroating your cock almost makes you cum

“Fuck.” You breathe out. You try backing away to give Tara a little room to breathe but she just ends up making you thrust into her mouth, making her gag. You pull her face away from your cock not wanting her to choke, and the shorter girl wipes a little drool off her chin

“Why’d you do that?” Tara asks, a little annoyed

“I didn’t want you to run out of breath. Your eyes were watering”

“It’s nice how much you care about me. I can assure you i can handle your cock, baby. It helps you taste good”

“If it ever gets too much or becomes uncomfortable, squeeze my hand” You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and Tara’s heart flutters at how soft you’re being despite the situation

“I promise i’ll let you know if it starts to become too much, baby” The brunette kisses your tip once again and dives right back into sucking your dick. When you look down and she gives you a small nod, your hands tangle in her hair. You start off with small thrusts, slowly going faster as Tara gets used to your size

“F-Fuck you’re amazing” Your balls slap against her chin, and Tara almost cums at how dirty it feels having you fuck her throat like a fleshlight

“Shit, i’m gonna cum, Tara…” You moan, and the brunette gives you a pleading look. You can only assume it means ‘Please cum down my throat’, so that’s exactly what you do. You release your load in her mouth with a groan, and Tara happily swallows all of it down. When she pulls away from your cock, you use your thumb to wipe away the leftover cum on her chin. Tara takes your thumb in her mouth, and licks away the rest of your semen

She gets off her knees, and gets up to pull you into another searing kiss. You can taste yourself on her tongue, and you moan into her mouth at the flavor

“Jesus, you’re still hard?”

“I have the stamina of a stallion” You shrug, feigning a big ego

“Oh, yeah? How about i ride you and we’ll see if you can handle it”

“You have such a beautiful way with words”

“I’d be mad about the teasing of you weren’t cute. Hurry up and get naked, already”

“Yes ma’am” Barely a second passes before Tara’s lips are on yours. In a flurry of heat, both of your clothes end up strewn about her bedroom. Tara pushes you onto her bed. She straddles your lap and kisses you with a new wave of confidence and fervor. When the brunette urges you to lay back, you have to actively keep your jaw closed at the sight of Tara. Unfortunately for you, she notices your staring

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer”

“Can i really?”

“Mm… maybe next time”

Your face lights up. “Next time?”

“After you take me on a date first. We can talk about the specifics later” Tara softly kisses the bridge of your nose, making you close your eyes and blush

“Right now, i want you in me.” The brunette on top of you lines up your tip with her pussy, slowly sinking down your shaft

“Fuck,” Tara takes the rest of your cock in her, and you massage her hips when you can feel her squeezing around you “You feel so good, baby”

Noticing how you moan at her praise, Tara takes note of this. She starts to move up and down, and the feeling of her around you earns a whimper from your throat. Moans are exchanged as Tara starts to ride you faster, constantly increasing her pace

“I’m close, Tar” You breathe out, letting her nickname slip through your lips

“Fuck i am too, baby. You’re so big” Her words are reinforced as she starts to tighten around your cock, and you have to use all your strength to pull out. You ejaculate your cum all over your stomach, and so does Tara. When you both come down from your high, the brunette notices how you’re still somehow hard

“Round two?”

—

A/n pt.2: cookie if you can guess the second movie they watch

#jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #tara carpenter #chad meeks martin #mindy meeks martin #sam carpenter #scream #anika kayoko #scream 6 #amber freeman #quinn bailey #ethan landry

[derangedangel]

Killer Duo - Isaac Lahey

Summary: Lydia’s throwing a Halloween party and your costume coordinates with Isaac’s

Isaac Lahey x Reader

Word Count: 1,591

Author’s Note: Apparently this was in my drafts in 2019 and I finished it in 2020. Why it never got posted, I’m not sure. The timing of this is funny cause I’m currently at work dressed as the character Isaac is dressed as. Anyway, reblogs and comments are appreciated. Happy Halloween!

“Lydia, I haven’t dressed up for Halloween since I was 12,” you said walking around looking at all the creepy Halloween decorations.

“And this is a costume party. You have to dress up or you can’t go,” Lydia replied walking in front of you heading straight for the costumes. 

“I have no idea what I should be. And most Halloween costumes for women are sexy now, which really means they’re short and inappropriate, and I am not doing that.”

The strawberry blonde rolled her eyes. “You haven’t even looked at any costumes yet and your already jumping to conclusions.”

“I’m just pointing out facts. Halloween used to be fun, then I grew up.”

“And now you’re at the age where you can dress up again,” Lydia smiled at you. “There’s just no candy this time.”

“So what’s the point,” you joked.

“Just come on,” Lydia said grabbing your arm pulling you towards the superhero costumes first. 

The two of you began to look through the racks of clothes. You ran a mental checklist of everything that wouldn’t work for you. 

Batgirl? No.

Iron Man? No.

Elastigirl? Hell no.

“Oh, what about Wonder Woman,” Lydia asked holding up the iconic armor for you to see. 

“Ehh,” you said fidgeting on your feet, “I don’t feel comfortable having my ass out.”

“Okay,” Lydia said sighing at how difficult you were making this. She stood next to you scanning the the other costumes in the superhero section and decided you were going to like any of them.

“What about a witch,” she asked.

“I guess I could be that,” you replied halfheartedly.

“No, I don’t want you buying something you don’t love. That’s the number one rule in fashion.”

“Lydia, why don’t you just look for your costume and I’ll find mines. I don’t want you to keep pulling outfits and I hate them all.”

Lydia turned and faced you. “Honey, I bought my costume weeks ago. No one is going to be wearing the same thing as me at my own party.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Duh, I should have known you already had your costume ready to go.”

“Yes, so this trip is all about you, my dear,” Lydia said tapping you on the nose making you smile. 

“Fine,” you replied. “Well, let’s go look at something a little more spookier then.”

_____________

“Barbie, eat your heart out.”

Lydia walked up behind you in the mirror and nodded. “You look good.”

“I look killer,” you laughed and Lydia smiled shaking her head. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror admiring your white dress, leather jacket, and combat boots. You grabbed your eyeliner pencil and added the final touch. Tiffany’s mole. 

Perfect.

As soon as you saw the Bride of Chucky costume, you knew you needed it. Lydia was just happy you didn’t go with Chucky so you didn’t mess up her bathroom adding all the wounds and fake blood on your face. 

About an hour later, the party was well under way and you already made your first rounds with Lydia. Now she off doing other hostess duties and you were people watching against the wall.

You saw Isaac across the room and smiled to yourself. You excused yourself through the crowd as you made your way across the room.

“Hey, Isaac. Nice costume,” you greeted, looking up at the tall burette in front of you. Well, he wasn’t brunette right now. He was wearing a red wig and a pair of Good Guys overalls. You snickered to yourself. Of course the guy you had a crush on would be dressed up as Chucky. He was basically the salt to your pepper.

“Thanks,” Isaac said, a grin lining his face. “And you are a... biker bride?”

You looked at Isaac confused and shocked. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“What,” Isaac smiled confused at your response. “Should I know who you are?”

“Yes,” you said laughing. You gawked at him as you held up your plastic bloody knife and pointed to your “Tiff” necklace. His eyebrow furrowed in confusion.

“I’m Tiffany...”

Isaac shook his head still lost.

“The Bride of Chucky...”

“Sorry. Still don’t know who that is.”

“Oh my God. Isaac, how are you dressed up as Chucky but don’t know who Tiffany is?”

Isaac shrugged. “Honestly, I wasn’t planning on wearing a costume, but Lydia said I had to, then showed up to Scott’s house with this.”

You shook your head, laughing to yourself. “Of course she did.”

“Am I missing something,” Isaac asked wanting in on the joke.

“Lydia knew I was dressing up as Tiffany and she made you be Chucky... we’re basically a couple’s costume.”

“We are,” Isaac asked, his eyebrow raised and smirk slowly growing on his face.

“Uhh, I- I mean sorta,” you replied fidgeting where you stood. “Especially, now when we’re standing next to each other.”

Isaac took a step closer to you. “So I guess I better keep you close then.”

You’re eyes grew big but before you could response you were interrupted. 

“There you two are,” Lydia said walking up to you and Isaac. Her blonde ponytail wig bouncing with each step she took. She definitely was the only I Dream of Jeannie here. You doubted if most of the party even knew who she was, but they all knew she looked good. “Well don’t you look cozy together.”

“Lydia,” you said a little too sweetly for anyone’s liking. “I hear we have you to thank for Isaac’s costume.”

“What,” Lydia asked like she didn’t basically have you and Isaac in a couple’s costume. “I couldn’t have him come to my Halloween party not dressed up.”

“Yeah, sure,” you scoffed crossing your arms over your chest.

“Anyway, everyone’s outside so we can take a group pic before anyone is too intoxicated to do it later.” 

“Lydia,” Stiles yelped running up. “Oh, hey guys,” he said waving to you and Isaac. You smiled and waved back before he began talking to Lydia. He was dressed up as Captain Tony Nelson, the perfect couple’s costume to Lydia’s Jeannie. “Um, so, I may or may not have gotten my Captain’s hat stuck on the roof... okay I definitely did. But it was Scott’s fault!”

“Seriously, Stiles,” Lydia fumed. “God,” she whispered under her breath shaking her head before turning to you. “Give it about ten minutes before the picture so I can get his hat down.” 

You laughed nodding your head. “Okay.”

The couple walked away, leaving you alone with Isaac. “Um, I’m going to go get something to drink. See you outside in ten?”

“Yeah,” Isaac said, giving you a slow and sexy smile. 

You turned and headed for the kitchen, letting out a long breath as you did. Isaac’s whole existence was driving you crazy. Although you did like the blue eyed boy, and you’ve been wanting something to happen for a while, he was making you incredibly nervous. You’d rather avoid him instead of potential embarrassing yourself. 

After you filled your red solo cup with the fruity punch being served, one of your classmates came up to you.

“Hey Y/N, cute costume.”

“Thanks!”

“I didn’t know you and Isaac were a thing.”

“Huh,” you asked confused.

“The couple’s costume,” they said hesitantly. “Chucky and Tiffany.”

“Ohh, duh” you said to yourself when you realized. “We’re not dating. We just happened to wear costumes that went together.”

“Oh... well, the two of you look good together,” they said shrugging then walked away.

All your friends were already outside ready to take the picture. Lydia handed her phone to the designated photographer, then went to stand next to Stiles. Scott was in the middle, with Kira next to him. Malia was next to Kira, while Stiles and Lydia were on the other side of Scott. You stood next to Malia, throwing your arm over your friend’s shoulder. Isaac stood near Stiles. 

After two pics were snapped, Lydia went to check the photos. She grabbed her phone, then looked up at the group. “Somethings not right...,” she said out loud, thinking to herself. “I know!” She grabbed Isaac by his arm and pulled him over to where you were standing. “That’s better. You’re costumes go together, so it makes sense,” she said smiling. She mumbled a quick you’re welcome to you before she handed the camera back over and went back to her place next to Stiles.

The person taking the pictures counted down “3, 2, 1,” then snapped a pic. But before you got to one, Isaac grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him. You shrieked in response then started laughing. 

“Okay, now a funny one,” Scott yelled so everyone could hear. 

Isaac didn’t hesitate, quickly picking you up bridal style. You yelped, then immediately stuck your tongue out at him. Lydia’s phone flashed as the picture was taken, then everyone stopped doing their poses, but Isaac didn’t put you down.

You giggled before you spoke. “You can put me down now, Isaac. The picture’s over.”

“I said I should keep you close. So that’s what I’m doing,” he said smiling down at you in his arms. “And besides, if we’re next to each other people will think we’re a couple, so no guy will ask you to dance.”

You titled your head to the side, your eyes squinted slightly. “But we’re not a couple.”

“Give it a few weeks.”

Your mouth dropped in a silent gasp, slowly turning into a huge grin. You heard Kira giggling behind you and Stiles’s “yuck.”

#Teen Wolf #isaac lahey #isaac lahey x reader #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf imagine #isaac lahey fanfic

[rosewaterandivy]

1.01 - Notes on a Scene

summary: a meet-fuck cute courtesy of The Hideout.

pairing: teacher!eddie x fem!reader

w.c.: 3.6k

warnings: modern! AU / 18 + no minors! / eddie is in his early 30s, in the tkaa timeline, this is set about two years after the epilogue, hook ups, fwb, Eddie being a menace, my usual filth™️

a/n: an Eddie-centric companion series to the kids aren’t alright. it’s not necessary to read the previous series, but there are certain plot points and characters that will be making an appearance here as well.

nota bene: feedback is always appreciated— reblogs, comments, likes, etc.— but reposting is not. Enjoy! 💜

series m.list | playlist | currently spinning:

🎵gonna melt the fever sugar, rolling back your eyes🎵

“Hey.” A man says as he scoots into the stool next to you. “Can I buy you a drink?”

You look up and around. The space is dimly lit, brick walls, wooden shelves, a very subtle we don’t give a fuck vibe. There are plenty of women around who are dressed to impress, but he is strangely alert and focused on you. You are sitting perfectly still in denim cutoffs and a t-shirt that has seen better days—grubby house clothes. Even your hair, piled on top of your head screams: go away.

“You look lonely.” He’s dressed in an open green flannel with a crinkled tee underneath, ripped jeans, and dark sunglasses perched on top of his head.

Blinking owlishly, you stare at him some more. This guy has got to be messing with you. You stick the tip of your thumb to your chest. “Me?”

“Yeah. What’ll you have?”

Um. Alone time, maybe? You’re still searching over his shoulder as he says this, stubbornly ignorant of your aloof vibe. You look again toward the door, plotting your escape. Is this guy the type of person to chase you down and stuff you in the trunk of his car? You try to smile.

“I’m uh—I’m ab–”

“Babe!”

A third voice cuts in and then suddenly an arm wraps around your shoulder, “Sorry I’m late, sweetheart.”

Your head turns to regard the rest of its owner and your heart leaps into your mouth. Sumptuous brown eyes encased in dark lashes. Corners lifted by a wide smile. They are looking lovingly down at you, and they are magnificent.

“Uh.” Nice job.

“Uh- you—you were waiting on someone?” The stutter is incredibly pathetic when your first suitor clocks the man with his arm around you. He’s deceptively built, much to your surprise. He’s sturdy too, from what you can tell with his side pressed up against yours.

“Yep. Boyfriend. Good to meet you.” His eyes crinkle at the edges, but there’s no kindness in that look. “Care to fuck off now?”

And fuck off he does. When the man slinks back to his group of buddies who are all snickering at him, you turn to your timely savior, “Thanks…”

“It looked like you might need some help.” He takes his arm back and sinks into the stool next to you. “Just playing the part—I’ll fuck off too in a second.”

You’re still too shocked to mouth off yet as you continue to take in the sight of him at your side. He leans over on his palm, takes a quick look behind your head, and then gives you a wink. “Your man’s turned around. I think you’re safe.”

“Don’t even joke about that.” You mumble, facing him, “That flannel was straight from the nineties.” And then you pause, feeling your mouth-motor whir to life. He’s wearing a black leather jacket. Black shirt. Ripped jeans. Long hair tied back half-way, a slight scruff gracing his jaw. Probably sharp as a knife under that. “You look pretty straight from the nineties too, grunge-boy.”

Beer sprays from where his lips touch the rim of the bottle. He hisses, wiping the dribble from his neck. It takes him another minute of fumbling before all the moisture is off, and you can see the tiniest hint of a blush on his cheeks from where he’s embarrassed himself.

“Where are you coming from?” You ask mischievously, “A Spinal Tap convention?”

“No. I’m a townie, thanks very much.” He crosses his arms. “Just having a drink at my local.”

“Good to know.” 

“My roommates…” He pauses to take a drink, “Well, I have a lot of them and they’re all coupled up.” He says plainly, “A man can only take so much.”

“So….” You sing, “You went out to… save helpless chicks from creeps?”

“Mmm,” he makes a show of sizing you up, eyes working slowly down your body. “I think you’re pretty capable of handling yourself, maybe a bit of a priss,” he decides, taking a long pull from his beer as the heat rises in your cheeks.

You want to laugh, but the shit-eating grin on his face doesn’t deserve to be encouraged right now. You can tell already he’s a real wild one, so you push the edges of your mouth down and pretend to find a lot of interest in grabbing your purse instead. “Well, mister, thanks for the saving. See you around.” You’re not above picking up a guy in a bar but why not tease him a little more while you’re at it?

He tucks a stray piece of hair behind his ear and grabs your jacket off the back of the stool. “It’s Eddie.” He says, “My name.”

“Hmm, Edward, nice to meet you.”

“Not a chance,” he says with a roll of his eyes.

“I know what you are,” you continue voice flat, eyes glinting with mischief. 

C’mon, someone named Edward who looks like that, there’s no way he’ll take the bait.

His eyes fix on you, playful. “Say it,” he leans closer to you, drowning out the sounds of Joan Jett asking who wants to touch her where. “Out loud. Say it.”

Giving it your best Kristen Stewart, you go for it: “Vampire.”

“Fuck you very much.” He laughs, voice soft against the din of the bar,

You smile and slip the sleeves of your jacket over your arms. “Well, Eddie, thanks for the saving. Bein’ a helpless chick and all, I sure hate it when a fella doesn’t know his place.”

Eddie’s pink tongue darts out to lick his equally pink lips and he hops off the stool, placing a five under his half-full beer. “Can I walk you to your car?” He asks. “You know—dark night, creeps in alleyways and parking lots… Unless it’s not my place… princess.”

Well, that’s just not playing fair.

You laugh, because it’s barely sunset. But the way he’s looking at you makes your blood rise and leak hot magma right into your tummy. What’s the harm, you think, because you’re new in town and you’ll likely never see him again. It’s Friday night.

“No, I suppose it’s not your place.” You pause, watching the disappointed expression on his face. “Eddie–” You pretend to wipe a smudge off the corner of his leather collar, leaning in until it really does look like he’s your boyfriend.

“You’re welcome to come to mine. But no more of this priss business.” You push your lips into an exaggerated pout.

He laughs a joyful noise, tugs his jacket on close to his chest, and follows you out the door.

Your purse is already in your hands, keys swinging around your finger. “If you’ll just—”

“God. Yes. I’ll follow you.”

Eddie tugs you from the driver’s seat of your car, hand entwined with yours as he follows you up the walkway and over the step. Once the front door shuts behind him and you’ve made sure it’s locked, you’re pressed up against the wall, purse, shoes, keys, clattering onto the hardwood.

“Oh, baby,” he mumbles as he presses his face into your collar, scooping you up into his arms. “Oh, Jesus, princess. You’re makin’ me crazy.”

Fuck. How can one person have so much stamina? This guy must be related to the Energizer Bunny. It’s been nearly two hours and he’s propped up against the headboard of your bed, legs spread, pointer finger beckoning you to crawl between them. This is your third (third!) time going at it.

You paw at your face because you are so sweaty. Eddie’s hair is down, strands framing his cheeks, just as wild as he is. Two hours of some of the filthiest talk you’ve ever head, ass-slapping, spit-swapping, hair-pulling, straight-up debauchery.

“This your usual M.O., Eddie, or are you doin’ me a favor?” You ask as your knees nudge him wider apart. Blowing a damp strand from your forehead, you lie down on your stomach and press your mouth to his thigh. “Death by exhaustion.”

“Sexhaustion,” He laughs, then grunts as your lips finds the blunt head of his cock. “You’re still goin’ too.” He comments. “Jesus, girl. Can I call you sometime?”

You hum a vibrating warble and he shudders in delight, “The helpless chicks of Hawkins won’t mind?”

“Pfft.” Then, as easily as he dismisses the idea, Eddie rests his arm on your shoulder before pulling you flush against him. “C’mere.”

There’s something about him that turns you inside out. Easy-going demeanor. Charm and wit. Just fucking gorgeous. It’s a silly little notion from a romanticized one-nighter, but you’re very interested in prolonging the fantasy. You’ll get the best of this, you think, a no-strings attached kind of attachment with someone who makes your body sing. You don’t even want to know his last name—and you don’t tell him yours no matter how many times he asks. You want to know nothing about him other than what you can touch and taste and feel.

And there’s quite a lot of him for all of that. Your hands roam his shoulders and arms, your tongue laps at the sweat on his neck, your tummy tightens when his cock flexes against your hip.

Even if there might be an attachment, the physical distance of him— you have no idea where he lives, would nip that foolishness right in the bud.

Against the backdrop soundtrack of the neighborhood traffic and chatter, you wiggle your way on top and seal your arrangement with a glide of your hips onto his.

Monday morning finds you unpacking in your new classroom at Hawkins High School (home of the Tigers!) and blaring music from your speakers. The tech guy said he’d be around to check the audio levels and load some editing software onto the Macs at some point today, and you’d been killing time ever since.

After meeting with your department head, along with a few other teachers, and getting the lay of the land, you decided to hang a few prints on your walls— you were standing on a table hammering a nail into the wall when you hear voices from the hallway.

“Ooh, this is a vibe!”

Turning to the door, you see two heads precariously poking in and recognize one from the department meeting. Sliding the hammer through a belt loop on your shorts, you step down from the table.

“It’s Robin, right— graphic design?”

The blonde perks up with a smile, “Yeah! How’s it going, need any help?” She steps into your classroom with another woman. “Oh this is Trouble,” she says by way of introduction, “She teaches sophomore English.”

She waves to you with a smile. “I’m digging the aesthetic,” she says, taking in the few things you’ve managed to unpack. “Sick tats, by the way.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” You grab the frame next to you and step back on the table, “I figured I wouldn’t need to cover them up until school starts so.”

“Pfft, don’t even bother.” Trouble scoffs with a wave of her hand, “We have enough teachers with ‘em so it’s a non-issue.” She steps closer to get a better look at the Drive print near your door.

Robin grabs another frame from the pile, “Where do you want this one?”

Settling the Paprika print against the wall you step back down to see which one she grabbed. “Oh,” you say, eyeing the Midsommar piece in her hands, “That’ll be by my desk, you can set it over there.”

You meet her over there with two nails prized between your teeth. Grabbing a chair you step onto it and briefly check the fastening of the frame before lining up where the nails will be hung. While Robin helps you the other woman, Trouble, continues her perusal.

“Okay,” she says with a clap of her hands, “You have great taste based on your playlist, film choices, and is that—” She tugs at your free arm, “A horror sleeve? Oh my god, you have to meet the gang. They will love you.”

Her enthusiasm is heartening— she turns your arm this way and that, surveying the different films represented in black lines and shading. Robin’s eyes find yours with a mouthed ‘sorry about this’ and you shrug.

“Robs has your number?”

“Uh, yeah.” Your arm becomes your own once more as her fingers stop their tracing of your tattoos.

“Great! We’ll text you the details,” she continues to say, “We’re checking out a new bar in town tonight.” A waggle of her brows, “Rumor has it there’s a mechanical bull.”

A smile breaks across your face, “Well, yee-fuckin’-haw I guess.” 

They leave with promises to see you tonight just as the tech guy, Bob, makes his appearance. He greets you politely, asking to check your PC and Mac before moving onto the students Macs. The two of you install and update the computers in your classroom before heading to the sound booth to check the audio ports and software. The rest of your day is spent discussing the finer points of your preferred editing programs and Bob peppering you with questions about the best cameras and equipment for sports broadcasting.

Eddie arrives at six-forty at the bar Trouble had selected for this evening, fittingly called ‘Outlawed.’ He sighs and shoves his hands into his pockets, quickly crossing the parking lot to enter the bar, his mind elsewhere.

It was too good to be true, really. Meeting some girl and fooling around with her and, of course, he can’t help thinking about her. He doesn’t even know her name, he just calls her princess. Sometimes sweetheart, sometimes baby, babygirl, because their little meet-cute at the bar spawned a million different alternatives to choose from.

He’s only seen her once for fuck’s sake, but the way she giggles when he takes off her clothes and how her breath stutters against his mouth is something he thinks about frequently when he’s in bed with his hand down his boxers.

And now, Trouble wants to set him up with some new teacher at school. She’d told him all about it at lunch. “Seriously Eds,” she said, splitting a burger with Steve as a tomato slid from the bun and landed with a splat on her plate. “She’s just your type, cool as hell and takes no shit,” she hands the burger off to Steve, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Had like, fuckin’ nails in her teeth and was just hammering away on there walls while listening to an amazing mix— Portishead, Death Grips,” her eyes turn to him, bright and excited. “Between the Buried and Me, so she’s automatically better than those chicks you’ve been dealing with on the apps.”

Outside, under the final rays of sunshine people are streaming down the sidewalk, couples with arms hooked around each other, pretty girls in heels and guys looking after them. Monday night in the Hawkins, surprisingly buzzing with life and music.

He spots Steve as he walks in and they walk next to each other, dodging people left and right as Steve leads them into the dark space of a bar, cramped more than sardines in a can. Eddie shuffles sideways to squeeze past a couple already a little too frisky for a public setting. It’s hot and sticky inside, and the smell of fried foods and beer permeates through his clothes.

He doesn’t really get the look of it, either. An entirely metal and southern kind of aesthetic, the kind that reminds him of old bleach-blonde, wrinkly and tanned housewives with rhinestones on the back pockets of their jeans, toting puckered alligator purses. There are string lights over the walls, bumper stickers, and license plates, and all manners of slogans about Texas and being a country girl.

Modelo neon lights. Budlight paraphernalia. The bartender is wearing cowboy boots.

Steve orders a six-dollar pitcher of the house draft and Eddie whistles. Okay, he thinks, for six dollars a pitcher—he gets this place.

He waves to Robin and Vickie before pointing over to Trouble’s table but Steve and Eddie take some time to themselves to shoot the shit.

“So, are ya gonna tell me about that girl or what?”

“What else is there to tell, man?” Eddie asks as he licks the froth from his upper lip, hoppy bursts of carbonation stinging his tongue. He’s kept her a secret even from Trouble, but it’s not like there was much he could say other than, “She screwed my brains out and then I left. Nothin’ more to tell.”

Steve nods along.

“I don’t even know her name. Just called her princess or baby all the time. She’s a goddamn wildcat, knew how to ride like it was her job. Great ass, too.” A shudder passes over him as he thinks of the way she would crush him into the bed and grind until lights burst behind his eyelids.

The last few words of their conversation get drowned out by loud cheers and whooping, drawing their attention to a crowd forming behind them. People press up against each other, holding their beer bottles and glasses in the air, cheering and screaming.

“What the hell is that?” Eddie calls to Steve who sits up straight chair to get a peek over the tops of everyone’s heads. “I think it’s a mechanical bull?” He replies, shrugging. “Wanna go look?”

“Might as well.”

Robin catches Steve’s eye and sends him a nearly lethal toothy grin, cocking her head over to the crowd. “Go get her, tiger!” She yells, one hand cupped over the edge of her mouth. Eddie’s grabbed by his arm and dragged along as Steve’s interest peaks.

It’s like a concert mosh pit. Someone splashes their drink next to Eddie’s shoe, and he steps out of the way. When they reach the center of the ring around the perimeter of the stage, Eddie’s heart drops because the face he sees—beaming with joy is attached to a body he knows extremely well. Intimately. Every single inch. Her hips, gyrating in circles as she holds onto the handles of the mechanical bull—he’s seen it. Her hair, flurrying around her face in circles, moving along to the whipping of her body, adjusting with every jerk of the machine—he’s seen that, too.

“I think that’s the one Trouble was goin’ on about.” Steve announces. “Jesus, how is she doin’ that?”

Eddie is wide-eyed, turning back and forth. It’s too much. The laughter from her throat he’s previously shoved himself down. The cheer from the crowd that is deafening in his already ringing ears. Steve’s clapping– like a trained circus seal.

When the bull bucks for the last time, she leans forward and runs both hands through her hair, flicking it over her shoulders. Then, his girl, ever a gymnast, hops off and gives the crowd a bow, picking up her jacket on the way. Eddie watches her grab the same one she had on the first time they met- faded denim, worn shoulders, decorated in pins and patches.

It’s gotta be fate. Or destiny. Or maybe some fucked-up circumstance.

Her face is bright with joy, cheeks glistening with the lightest sheen of sweat, lips shiny with the way her tongue flicks out and licks it. To his right, Steve discreetly adjusts his pants, but Eddie is already rock hard. He slides back until he’s disappeared behind his friend, a smirk suddenly growing.

Trouble claps you on the back when you step out of the cushions of the ring. Robin and the rest of the gang stand by with so many questions, but you only wave them off. The secret is that in your college days you worked at a restaurant with a mechanical bull, and on your breaks you rode the fuck out of it.

Sometimes, growing up in the dirty South had its perks.

At first, upon entering the bar, you were wary and afraid you might throw out your back now that you’re not a spry young thing, but two pitchers in with Trouble and Robin and you were spitting into your hands and swinging over its seat.

Yep. You think victoriously, still got it.

“Hey!” A coif of hair sticks out of the crowd an inch or so above most other people. Steve, Trouble’s boyfriend and history teacher at Hawkins High, is grinning ear-to-ear, and you duck because you were not expecting him to witness that. Trouble smacks you on the ass and pushes you forward. “So, you hid this from us?” She asks, motioning to the bull and then up and down to you.

“Aw, fuck,” you mutter but can’t help the grin that breaks across your face. “C’mon, y’all… I didn’t think it’d come up.” Steve hands you a glass of amber, and you hide behind it with your hand, pretending to cool off by pressing it to your forehead.

“I almost forgot–” He turns, looking over his shoulder. “I wanna introduce you to Eddie, my other roommate, he teaches at Hawkins too!”

Eddie swivels into view, and any previous thoughts fly right out your head. If you had something in your mouth, you’d probably choke on it. He’s there, in all his glory, just like you remember: black leather jacket, dark stubble and eyes moving like smooth bourbon poured into a glass as he looks you up and down.

His teeth are sharp when he smiles.

“Oh, princess,” Eddie sighs, “I can’t believe you thought you’d get away that easy.”

And you think, as you stare wide-eyed at him, with Steve now coming to the same conclusion—mouth forming a silent “Oh”, you think that you are so fucked.

Maybe your life isn’t a romantic comedy at all, maybe it’s a terrible porno opening scene or some psycho sexual thriller because your former one-night stand is shooting you a mischievous grin, flexing his biceps, pulling on his lower lip with his teeth until it stretches white and snaps back plump and red.

Sensing the tension, Steve quickly turns around to the table.

Eddie cocks his head back, motioning you to follow.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #reader insert #notes on a scene - rosewaterandivy #Spotify

[lovebugism]

Hi bug, could I request some teasing modern office stevie when he definitely should be concentrating on some important reports and not the pictures you’re sending him from the bathroom 💖

ty for requesting :D — steve is grumpy at the office halloween party until you spend him naughty pictures from the bathroom (modern!au, established relationship, smut 18+, 1.6k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

The company-wide Halloween party was a total bust.

Steve’s Top Gun leather jacket was cool and all, but now — eight hours into his shift — it feels slightly suffocating. It’s heavy and making him almost unbearably hot, but he can’t take it off, or his dad will lose his shit. 

Everyone had to dress up. That was the memo. It’s to boost company morale or whatever bullshit they’re spinning these days. Even the stuffy guys on the fiftieth floor are wearing their own fancy, half-assed costumes. 

Steve wasn’t much of a fan of the whole thing, especially not after he offered to match with you and you completely shut him down. “My dad already knows about us, babe!” he whined. “It’s not a big deal!”

You shot him your hardened, badass businesswoman stare that always seems to stop him in his tracks. “Your dad knowing isn’t even the half of it, Steve. I don’t want us to be the headline for office gossip for the next six months, alright?”

Going into his nine-to-five the day before Halloween, the only thing he was remotely excited about was seeing your costume. You rock a pencil skirt and blouse like you were made to do it, but fuck, he loves seeing you out of your work clothes.

And you were really fucking cute — Uma Thurman from Pulp Fiction, in one of his white button-ups, black slacks, and high heels. It isn’t overtly sexy, because it is an office party after all, but he’d stare at you all day if he could.

Screw the work, he wants to lay on the couch in your office and watch you in your element with his hand shoved down his pants.

His phone buzzes sharply beside him, knocking him out of his daydream. It’s a text notification from you — one image attachment, it reads. He’s already smiling like a teenage boy now that you’re talking to him. He’s been lonely all day without you. 

He taps the message with his thumb to open the text thread, even happier to find that it’s a picture of you.

You look like you’re in a bathroom stall — for privacy maybe, because you’re flashing him your lacy lingerie. Your blouse is unbuttoned at the top to reveal your black bra that’s mostly see-through. It’s a cup size or more too small for you, so the tops of your breasts spill slightly from the fabric. 

Don’t do this to me, he replies.

Do what? you ask.

Another picture comes right after. It’s from a higher-up angle, a much better view of your cleavage. You’re staring up at the camera with doe eyes that drive him crazy.

Steve shifts in his swivel chair, spine-tingling distantly with the subtle stiffening of his cock. He looks over both shoulders, just to make sure no one’s around to see the filth on his phone, then texts you back.

You know what, he types. Don’t start something you can’t finish.

You send him a third picture, smiling all innocent at the camera. Captioned beneath it reads, I don’t think I’m the one who needs to worry about finishing, Stevie.

Steve doesn’t bother replying this time. He clicks his phone off and readjusts his pants, rising from his desk and heading straight for the elevator.

—————

Standing at the row of pristine sinks, you wait for Steve’s response.

You knew he wasn’t having the greatest day. His dad’s been on his ass more than usual and you’re not the best at comforting him when you’re in work mode. So you step out of your comfort zone in attempts to cheer up your boyfriend, actively trying to be sexy.

But then he just leaves you on read, and now you’re spiraling in the women’s restroom.

What if he didn’t like it? your brain berates you. What if he thinks you’re trying too hard? What if he’s turned off by you?

You don’t get the chance to get embarrassed about it because Steve’s busting through the bathroom door a second later. You’re scared by the sudden intrusion, then halfway relieved, then utterly shocked.

“Steve— what are you doing in here? This is the women’s restroom!”

“Obviously,” the boy scoffs and locks the door behind him.

Your eyes are wide and wild when he turns back to face you. “What the hell are you doing?” you repeat, teeth gritted as you try your best to whisper.

His eyes sparkle with something honeyed and mischievous. He shrugs all boyish and corners you against the marble countertop. “Told you not to start something you couldn’t finish, remember?”

His palms spread wide and warm on your waist as he leans down to kiss you. You’re almost lost in him enough to let him. The logical part of your brain blares an alarm in your subconcious, and you hold him back before he can inch any further.

“No. Nope. We’re not doing this,” you announce with a shake of your head, to yourself more than anything.

Steve’s brows pinch. “Why not?”

You blink up at him for a moment, bemused by his confusion because the answer’s pretty obvious. “‘Cause we’re at work, Steven. That’s why.”

He always melts for you when you call him that.

“You’re hot when you’re mean, you know that?” he murmurs with a lopsided grin. 

He ducks down again, and you think he’s gonna kiss you. You’re about to fight him until his plush lips lock on your pulse point. You cave before you mean to, turning to marshmallow fluff in his hands. 

Steve maneuvers you onto the counter with a pair of strong hands. When he plants himself between your legs, his hard cock brushes your inner thigh. You have to remind yourself to breathe.

With a tongue tasting of nicotine and the chocolate-covered pretzels you made for the Halloween party, Steve kisses the air from your lungs. You’re happy without it. As long as it means he’ll keep touching you like he is now. 

His fingers fuss with the buttons of your shirt. He tries to kiss you and unclasp them at the same time, but realizes it’s halfway impossible. You feel each one pop pop pop when he all but rips at your collar.

“Hey— be gentle,” you scold, slurring slightly when you part from him. “I gotta work after this, you know?”

“Yeah, if I don’t take you home first.” His words are mumbled and nearly inaudible. You barely catch the last half of them because he’s burying his face in your chest. 

It’s nothing you’re not used to — he often jokes that your tits are his two favorite girls, a close second to you.

You weave your hands through his chopped cinnamon hair, keeping him pressed against you while he kisses and sucks at your breasts — over the sheer fabric of the lingerie you chose specifically for him. His tongue runs warm and wet over your clothed nipple. You fight back a shiver.

Drunk on him and his tender touches, you let him open you up with his fingers without any fuss. You let him push you to the brink of a spine-tingling orgasm and back again — only fussing a little about his teasing until he slips his cock into you.

Steve doesn’t mean to fuck you so gently in the work bathroom, but it’s in his nature to be soft with you. 

Even during quickies, he’s all but making love to you. He holds your lolling head in both his calloused palms, making sure your eyes stay on his while he punches into you. You’re pretty good at keeping your moans at bay, aside from a few measly whines he swallows when he kisses you. 

You compensate for your withheld noises by digging your nails into his shoulders. You’re pretty sure there’ll be crescent shapes in the leather of his jacket when he’s done with you.

The bathroom fills with the sounds of heavy pants, concealed moans, and the jingling of Steve’s belt buckle. He babbles sweet nothings into your neck, words slurred and muffled there. You’re not even sure he knows what he’s saying.

“It’s so good. You’re so fucking good— fuck, fuck, fuck,” he rambles, chopped through thrusts and heavy breaths. “Can’t fucking wait to show you off, you know that? Wanna tell everyone you’re mine.”

“I am yours,” you tell him, breathless and with a whimper trapped in your throat. His cock pierces you mercilessly. The pressure on your clit is relentless. “Always been yours.”

And if he wasn’t about to burst already — you tell him this, and he’s a fucking goner. His hips stutter almost instantly. His whine swells in the bathroom, mostly muffled into your neck. He spits several loads of warm cum into you and sends you absolutely gushing.

And like the gentlemen he is, he fucks you stupid and cleans you up right after.

He chucks the wet paper towel in the bin and asks you, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” you repeat, legs still hanging over the counter, tingling with numbness.

“When you— you know, when you said you were mine?”

You shrug with an air of absentmindedness. “Of course.”

“I just… We never made anything official, and I didn’t know if… I don’t know— if you were seeing someone else or whatever.”

“Your dad knows we’re fucking, so I think we’re pretty much official now,” you tease, giggling and sliding your panties back into place. You hop off the counter to put your slacks back on. Steve fusses with his belt.

“Guess so,” he laughs back.

“And I don’t plan on seeing anyone else for the foreseeable future,” you confess, smiling shyly and tilting your head to your shoulder. “Just so you know.”

Steve’s suddenly smiling, crooked and boyish and pink. “Good. ‘Cause I don’t either.”

“Good,” you hum with a similar grin.

“Good.”

He kisses you again — ‘cause he can do that now, considering you’re finally official and everything. It’s a too sweet peck compared to how sinfully he was fucking you just minutes ago. 

He pulls back from you with furrowed brows.  “Does that mean we can tell people about—”

“Absolutely not, Steve Harrington.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: fictober!

[laylajeffany]

targeted ad ii - microfic

saw these on insta - ya'll might already know they exist sorry i'm old but they are for Wednesday and Enid for sure, so have a tiny scene of Enid convincing her moody lil gf to wear them

“You’ve already managed to convince me to join you in a cabin that doesn’t double as a hideout for family members running from federal agents. On the first full day of this trip, I’ve eaten your sugary version of breakfast, listened to your KPop morning stretch routine playlist, and now you expect me to wear matching clothes? I already wore a snood with you to hunt a monster.”

Enid wiggled her shoulders, holding a tie-dyed canvas tone in her hands with her bottom lip curled out. “Yeah, and you let it get all torn up! Come on, Wednesday – it’s practically a tradition!”

“This is our first time traveling together. The only tradition we’ll have is going to be you waking up breathing each day after the insufferable teenage whimsy you have me entertaining on this so-called vacation.”

“Okay, not so much a tradition, but it’s like, a thing that couples do together! At least all the ones on Instagram do it when they travel!”

Wednesday opened her own suitcase, a vintage piece assembled with fine leather. Whatever low-quality, polyester excuse for ‘fabric’ that Enid had likely ordered from a sweatshop was not going on her body.  “Good news, I’m not on Instagram; you don’t have to worry about meeting vapidly set expectations of social media on my behalf.”

“But I got them special for us, so that we could still be coordinating and you could keep your aesthetics up, even though there would be no one here to see it. And I promise, I won’t post it on my stories or anything, I’d just…maybe hope that you’ll let Thing take a Polaroid of us for our cute little collection of pics on the string lights...”

Once Enid was full-blown pouting, Wednesday gave her a glance after taking out her organic, linen, hand-dyed pants that were stitched by the family seamstress and sighed. “What garment-factory-fire-waiting-to-happen clothing have you obtained?”

Enid scoffed as she reached into her bag. “I’d think the idea of a factory fire would be exciting to you.”

“I support exploiting people for their stupidity, not their labor,” Wednesday muttered and crossed her arms as she watched Enid pull out sweatshirts. One as an offensive baby pink and the other was black.

Matching? Hardly.

“These are from a small business I saw on that social-media-app you hate so much -”

“Did you fall for targeted advertising again? Enid, we’ve discussed the need to more strictly adjust your privacy settings so that your personality can’t be packaged and sold to you-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, breach of data – Russian bots, we’ve been through this. Anyway, this is a cute, women-owned online shop, not from some planet-killing application. I thought that these were particularly appropriate for us, and actually match this exact moment we’re in, right now.”

She turned them around, and Wednesday almost let out a puff of air in amusement, though she managed to conceal it before it could escape.

On the black sweatshirt was a pink heart, with a little spiderweb motif around it and the phrase ‘might bite,’ while the pink one had the same style, but the script read instead, ‘might cry.’

“Fitting,” Wednesday finally decided.

“Let’s see if they fit us!” She cheered, pulling the bright colored pastel top over her head and giggling, approaching Wednesday bravely, tugging the neck hole over her braids.

“Enid, it has pink.”

“Like, three inches of it on top! We’re alone in the woods, no one can see you. And I’ve got Benadryl for bug bites, if you break out in hives from your ‘color allergy.’”

Wednesday let out a long sigh through her nose as Enid actually took her arms one at a time and weaseled them inside the sleeves of the crewneck. She stared straight ahead, unfortunately – the maneuver long had lost the effect of unnerving Enid.  

“Eek! You look so cute.” Enid tugged her over to the mirror on the back of the door of the log-built lake house they’d rented for spring break (a place for her to wolf out during that night’s full moon and for Wednesday to have plenty of target practice with a variety of weapons she’d packed). “I mean, intimidating – of course, not cute. Never cute.” She let out a series of bubbly laughs yet again, hooking an arm over Wednesday, who stared at their reflection.

It was a bit chilly that morning – but certainly not cold enough for the jacket she’d packed in case the weather was uncooperative…

“I will wear this for exactly the twenty minutes it will take us to walk to the lake.”

Enid squeaked and kissed her cheek, squeezing their matching sweatshirts together in a hug before pulling back and admiring their attire again, rubbing up and down Wednesday’s back mindlessly as she stared in the mirror. “We look adorable. I mean, deadly. We look very deadly in these.”

“You’re going to be dead if you don’t take your hands off my black and pink sweatshirt,” Wednesday clarified.

“Oh, please. You love it when I touch you,” Enid teased and Wednesday nearly wrinkled her nose at how much that was true. “What, are you going to prove that true and bite me if I don’t stop?”

“You wish,” Wednesday retorted, working very hard on keeping her eyes from rolling all the way back when Thing managed to capture the moment with Enid’s instant camera as she’d hoped. Enid let go and brought her arms up in a victory pose before milling around and gathering entirely too many unnecessary supplies for their morning hike while Wednesday watched her intensely in the mirror. She would admit – she liked the oversized top, and how it fell over her hands and went mid-length down her thighs. Adding her more usual pair of pants to go with it, she laced up her boots and waited as Enid debated between tinted lip balm. “The mosquitoes are going to find you delicious no matter what color your lips are.”

“It has SPF in it! Very necessary,” She said, putting some on herself when she finally picked one, then approached Wednesday, taking her by the back of her head and putting it on her as well. The fountain of positive thinking and insane levels of bravery that was her girlfriend shocked her into allowing it. Even more boldly, she followed it up with a kiss to those tinted lips that Wednesday almost returned. “Now you can leave a cute little lip imprint when you bite me,” She winked.

Tugging her close, Wednesday wrapped her black-clad sleeves around her pink middle, tucking her cheek against the plush fabric. In a move indicating surrender, she muttered, “This sweatshirt is adequately warm.”

“I knew you’d like it,” Enid kissed the top of her head, giving her a long embrace in return.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to. And even if you’re just entertaining me,” She pulled back to look her in the eye. “Thank you. Now come on, you getting all affectionate on me might make me cry happy tears if we don’t get moving!”

Black Menagerie update is late because real life is sometimes better than fanfiction | purchase a sweatshirt for you and your moody gf here

#wednesday addams is whipped #wednesday 2022 #fanfic #wenclair #layla's >5k challenge #ghoulbabe #written in a supply closet at work and unbeta'd forgive

[bullet-prooflove]

Valetines Day Bingo: Mix Tape - Will Trent x Reader

Tagging: @yezzyyae @words-and-seeds @trublu2u @cassiopeiablog @kmc1989 @reneejett4

Hitting the Homemade Square on the Valentine's Day Bingo Card!

Will doesn’t realise it’s Valentine’s Day, not until he finds the gift left on his desk. It’s a small midnight blue box, no bigger than the leather coaster he sets his coffee cup on. His dark eyebrows crease into a frown as his fingertips trail over the gold silk ribbon tied neatly in a bow on the top. He has no idea where it’s come from, there’s been no women in his life since before Angie passed away, certainly none who would be so thoughtful.

He's careful as he opens it, someone’s put a lot of thought into it making it look pretty and it seems a shame to ruin it. He’s surprised to find a small Dictaphone tape inside, resting on crisp gold tissue paper. It’s not one of his, he can tell from the lack of wear and the fresh green label on the top.

A puzzle, he thinks as he removes the tape from the box and pops it into his Dictaphone. He sits down in his chair and leans back, pressing down the button with his thumb.

He smiles when he hears your voice, the sweet dulcet tone in his ears as you say.

“Top Romance Songs of all time, dedicated to Special Agent Will Trent who wouldn’t know taste if it bit him in the ass.”

You’ve gone old school and made him a mixed tape; one he can listen to on his Dictaphone anytime he wants. The idea must have come from the argument the two of you had last week.

It’s the sheer amount of effort you’ve put into the gift that humbles him. Tracking down tapes that’ll fit his device, finding recording equipment to transfer the songs onto the tape so the sound is clear instead of muffled. He has no doubt you bribed someone downstairs in the IT department to help with that. Noone has ever given him such a thoughtful gift before, not in all the years he’s been on this Earth.

He's still listening to it when you get back from court later on in the day. He sees your familiar shadow through the patterned glass as you walk past his door and straight into your own office. He hears your delighted laugh through the wall and the edges of his mouth twitch up into a smile.

It’s a couple of seconds later you appear at his door, knuckles rapping on the glass as you hold up a box of baklava from Broz Bros Bakery, almost forty minutes away. Each piece of pastry is a work of art, handcrafted with tiny sugar flowers and hearts. He’d known the instant he laid eyes on it that you’d love it. He’s tied the gold ribbon from his gift around the box. His bow isn’t as neat as yours, but he thinks he’s done an alright job.

“I don’t suppose you know who dropped off this box of baklava on my desk?” You ask him as you linger in the doorway.

“Not a clue.” He says before raising to his feet and slipping back into his waistcoat, he busies himself by focusing on the buttons as he asks. “Do you have plans tonight?”

“I have a hot date with the computer in my office and this box of baklava,” You tell him as he smooths his palms down over the creases. “What about you?”

“Betty.” He says simply and you smile, that knowing smile of yours because the love he has for that dog, it’s heartwarming.

“I will leave you to it then.” You say, stepping back over the threshold.

“Camilla…” He says and you pause for a second, meeting his earnest gaze. “The man who bought you that baklava, he’s lucky to have you in this life.”

Love Will? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#will trent x reader #will trent x you #will trent #ramon rodriguez

[harlowtales]

Y/N joins in on games night with the guys 😈 Part 2

(Part 1 - Chance meeting with friends at a Louisville restaurant)

18 + Only | Explicit Content ⚠️🫣

You got to Jack’s building and buzzed to be let up to the penthouse. When you got up there you were greeted by Quiiso who was waiting for you. He took your coat and offered you a drink.

They weren’t kidding. They were actually playing board games and Jack was winning. A crowd has formed around him as they played Monopoly. “I’m buying Boardwalk Bitches!” Jack said with a huge grin.

“Not fair, I landed in jail too many times!” Urban said disappointed. The vibe was great. Everyone was invested in this showdown of best friends. Jack looked like he was about to win it all and winked at you.

“Thanks for coming”. Quiiso said “As you can see, we just chillin.”

“This is great, thanks for the invite. Sorry about earlier.” You apologized for having a less than friendly attitude.

“You want to go someplace and talk?” He said with his hand on the small of your back.

“Um ok sure.” You said taking the last sip of your drink. He led you down a hallway into a den. It was a room with shelves of books lining the walls like a library chill out spot as Jack loved to read. He patted a spot next to him on the leather couch. You talked for a couple hours forgetting a party was happening. Quiiso let you listen to a whole bunch of unreleased tracks and was so funny and smart.

“Wow Quiiso it’s been so awesome with you tonight” You said leaning in for a kiss.

“Wait…you making a move on Big Quiis?” He said pretending not to love how straight forward you were. You giggled and pulled him close for a soft kiss. He looked mesmerized when your lips parted.

“Damn. I can’t do it now.” He said looking down

“Can’t do what?” You said puzzled.

“We….I mean me and the guys were thinking about…” He hesitated

“About what Quiiso?” You said sweetly playing with one of his dreadlocks and looking into his brown eyes.

“We were going to share you.” He said waiting for your reaction.

“Share?” You asked shocked

“Yeah like all of us have you, but I like you.” He admitted

“I appreciate you being honest with me.” You said calmly

“So you’re not grossed out or anything?” He said “We don’t look to do this. As you can see we’re just friends with a lot of girls. It’s just you are a little different. You made an impression on all of us.” He said rubbing your thigh.

You felt yourself getting warm and took off the hoodie you had been wearing that they all thought you looked so college girl and cute in despite being older than them. Older women were a turn on for all of them, especially Quiiso and Jack. Quiiso’s eyes fell to your cleavage and he kissed the heap of your breasts. You threw your head back anticipating more.

Just then KY Engineering stumbled into the room by mistake. “Ah sorry I don’t never get these rooms straight in Jack’s place.” He apologized “I guess y’all having a private party.” As he made his way out.

Quiiso gave you a look and you gave him a sly grin back. “Naw hold up man. Come chill with us.” He beckoned to his friend. “KY, Y/N” He introduced the two of you. You couldn’t believe your luck in between two men you had lusted over online for a long time.

“Pleased to meet you.” KY said catching the vibe and kissing your hand like a southern gentleman. “Wait…are y’all inviting me to this party?” He said in his low Kentucky drawl.

“You down?” Quiiso asked

“I think I might just be.” KY said as he tested if you were down by touching your face. When he saw you respond by closing your eyes as if you were wishing for more he moved closer to you. Now they both were moving their hands all over your body.

A knock at the door and a voice said “Can we come in?” It was Urban, Jack, Shane, Clay, and Copelan. Now all the girls and other friends were gone and they knew what you and Quiiso were up to.

“Come on in.” KY said as Quiiso was kissing your neck and he was starting to take his shoes off to get more comfortable. You softly moaned and felt the electric presence of all of them in the room eyeing you. You may as well have been a delicacy on a menu.

“I won Monopoly.” Jack said and everyone turned to look at him for killing the vibe but it made you laugh.

“Jack are you always so funny?” You said

“I don’t try to be.” He answered as he came closer to you. “Do you like when I make you laugh?” He asked sexily. You nodded your head yes. “Yeah? Do you want me to make you do other things?” He said looking at you with his piercing blue eyes. His diamond earrings shining in the moonlight coming in through the window as the only light in the room now. Everyone was gone except for you for this one woman after party. “Quiis how you feel?” Jack asked his friend “You down to share?”

“You down baby?” Quiiso said as you leaned against his cuddly chest reaching up and caressing his face. You were facing all of them laying back on your teddy bear as he had his arms around you. You wanted whatever was going to happen to happen so badly your inner most thighs were aching.

“I’m down.” You whispered as he unhitched your bra and your breasts were revealed to them. Every man in the room paused to take it all in. They were closing in on you and you felt hands from all sides. You locked eyes with Shane and he came over motioning for you to pull his sweatpants down.

You had no idea who’s hand was fondling your left nipple, who’s lips were locked around your right nipple and who was starting to feel up your denim skirt and tug your panties off. Jack being the alpha male knelt in front of you finishing yanking your underwear off and throwing your legs back. As Quiiso reached down and rubbed your clit Jack licked your fleshy outer lips before penetrating your tender walls with his persistent tongue.

“Oooh fuuuuuck” You managed to say as you bit your bottom lip and got eaten like a dessert topping. You took Shane into your mouth as you jerked off Clay and Copelan. Urban tapped Jack on the shoulder for a turn and took over where his friend left off. His larger more pillowy lips and sharper tongue picked up speed going in and out roughly and sucking long and hard on your clit while swivelling his head of wild long curls. He had you screaming “Urban my GOD!!” As you jerked Clay and Copelan faster.

“Yo bro she’s mine.” Quiiso said and turned you around just as you were on the verge of squirting in Urban’s face. The abrupt change in position made you almost angry. Quiiso was hard as a rock and guided his stiff manhood into you as you moaned from how sensitive your clit was.

“Damn you tight y/n” he breathed in agony as he entered you slowly filling your space.

“Fuck Quiiso!” You shouted as he became even harder and began a jack hammer rapid pace of driving straight and deep into your wet pussy.

Having felt the warmth of your mouth Shane finished himself off and came all over your breasts. You rubbed it in and took one breast into your mouth. “Turn her around bro. I wanna see some ass.” Jack said in a corny reference to his song.

“Really bro?” They all groaned and rolled their eyes

Quiiso pulled out and turned you over so you were ass up face down. KY came behind with a slap that stung your cheek “Ow!! Yes daddy.” You exclaimed and he loved it. Jack laid in front of you and you sucked him as KY picked up his pace from behind. He was ramming you from behind so hard you gripped onto Jack’s legs to steady yourself. The motion of KY slamming you made a noise of slapping cheeks that echoed throughout the room and bounced off the walls.

“Shit!” He said out of breath as he traded spots with Jack and came to lay down in front of you to enter your throat.

You adjusted to Jack’s size and he pressed on your back to put you on your stomach. This made you go all the way down on KY’s glistening cock. He winced as he hit the back of your throat. Jack pushed into your pounded space lying on top of you as he slowly girated and whispered in your ear “You’re a good girl. You want me to cum?”

“Yes Jack please.” You begged

“Where? All over your nice ass?” He taunted

“Yes Jack! Please!” You cried not being able to take the slow and deep penetration.

He pulled on your hair and drove deeper. You felt every inch of him in your stomach until he pulled out and exploded spreading his warm cum all over your ass. He tapped your sticky behind with his dick in satisfaction and left you to his friends.

Copelan, Shane, and Urban surrounded you and one by one they came in your open mouth as you were made to lay on your back. Quiiso looked on stroking himself determined to have you one last time. “She’s all yours bro they said and backed off to let their friend have his final way with you.

By now your flesh was crying out for more but sore. Quiiso laid you on your side and held your leg up to gain access to your hot core one last time. He grabbed hold of one of your breasts and thrusted relentlessly into you making you scream but you barely could make a sound. Everyone was lying around the room catching their breath and drying off from the sweaty encounter.

“Y/N oh shit!” Quiiso exclaimed as he came inside you holding your hips in place not able to take the slightest move while he pulsated and filled you with creamy goodness. He kissed your shoulder and eventually pulled out with a satisfied sigh.

“Y/N take a shower baby and then we’ll get you something to eat.” Jack said as he handed you your clothes and gestured to his room where a huge marble ensuite bathroom had a gorgeous shower with a hot full stream that massaged your aching body. Quiiso joined you and caressed you with body wash cleaning everyone’s cum off of you. Urban was waiting with a towel to dry you off and help you into a white fluffy robe with Jack’s initials. Then Quiiso scooped you up and carried you to Jack’s bed where he gently laid you down. Shane brought you some pizza, chips, and Phocus on a platter.

“Have cases of that left over.” Jack chuckled pointing to the can of Phocus. You giggled and devoured the Pizza. “Get some rest.” Jack said and handed you the remote for the giant TV on the wall. “Thanks Y/N we do not get down like this but you sweet and special.” He said pecking you on the forehead.

You dozed off on a full stomach. Your insides throbbing with the most delicious ache and you had a slight hangover. When you woke up from the morning light beaming into Jack’s room and hitting you in the face, you noticed Quiiso had left a note on the pillow next to you with a beaded bracelet of his. “Y/N I never had such a good time with anyone before. Get home safely and if you need me I will be there. You PG now.” The note said.

Jack had somehow managed to have new clean clothes perfectly folded on a chair and you smelled breakfast. A maid was busy playing Jack’s music and cleaning away. Jack was gone. “Miss Y/N good morning.” She said cheerfully “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes I did” You said still groggy and sore

“Please eat!” She said and pulled out a chair for you to sit. “Jack said drive safe. He left for London this morning.”

“What did he say? Drive safe?” You said more so to yourself. Had all this been a dream? You realized the clothes you changed into was some bell bottom jeans and a itty bitty corset.

@itsyagirljaz @okaaay-mice @ride4harlow

#jack harlow #fanfic #romance #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow smut #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x you #jack harlow x reader

[justfandomwritings]

A Package Deal

Pairing: Hangman x Female!Reader x Phoenix

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: Lots of non-explicit sexual tension and pining; heavy handed flirting and smutty implications

Summary: You've been a bartender at the Hard Deck for a while now, and you've gotten to know the pilots of TopGun pretty well. They work hard, and they play hard. And God what you wouldn't give to play around with a couple of them, not that you'd ever had the guts to ask.

Notes: IDK I got bored and horny, and I thought the world needed more Hangman/Phoenix/Reader fics.

She’s the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever seen in your life. She’s hot in the uniform, but out of it she’s fucking stunning.

Dark brown hair cascading in luscious waves around her face. Dark, lidded eyes piercing into you like they can see straight through your mind and hear every lewd thought that crosses it. Beautiful lips that pull back over perfect teeth and fill you with a longing to make her smile like that at you every day.

Long, toned legs that stretch out from under the sexy little blue dress she’s donning. They go on for days in those nude heels every time she takes a step and oh fuck.

She’s taking another step. Fuck fuck fuck. She’s walking towards you. Fuck fuck fuck. You’ve been ogling her from across the bar like a fucking creep and now she’s walking towards you.

You glance nervously around the bar and see a guy with a mostly empty drink and rush over.

“Get you a refill?”

The man nods and raises his glass in wordless appreciation.

It’s bourbon on the rocks. Not even top shelf. The cheap, well shit. It takes about thirty seconds to make, but it gives you an excuse to turn around. You drag it out to a full minute: picking out each individual cube of ice and giving the slowest pour you can reasonably manage.

It wasn’t long enough. When you turn around she’s there.

She’s leaning against the bar, standing, the bottom of her breasts just brushing the counter of the bar while the tops peer up at you invitingly from the deep cut v.

“Good afternoon Lieutenant, what can I get you?” You gulp as you sets the bourbon down in front of the intended patron.

“Two beers,” Natasha smiles at you. Actually smiles at you, and for a moment you have to make the conscious decision not to melt into a puddle on the floor.

She doesn’t say anything, but she’s looking at you, looking through you, with those all-knowing eyes. She knows she has power over you, and yet you’re absolutely certain she doesn’t know how much power she has over you.

“Two?” Your voice remains surprisingly even as you open the fridge beneath the countertop and pull out the pilots’ usual beer of choice. For a moment, you’re proud of yourself for this small, though seemingly insurmountable achievement.

“Yeah, I got company.”

It hurts your heart, but you don’t show it on your face - or at least you try not to - as you set two bottles down in front of her. Of course she has company. Coming in here looking like that, she has to have company. If she came here to find company she’s so pretty she could’ve got it wearing a wet paper bag, but she’s dressed up, wearing an outfit that’s meant to impress someone.

“Who’s the lucky date?” You try to sound casual, but from the way her eyes rove over your face you know you’ve failed.

“No one you’d disapprove of.”

She turns back to watch the doors of the bar and only moments later they swing open.

Your mouth runs dry.

If she is the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen, he is the sexiest man alive. People magazine could sell more copies just from putting his face on the cover than any famous celebrity’s name.

He’s not in uniform either, and the only time you’ve ever seen him out of uniform was playing football - which was a positively religious experience. You’ve never seen him in civilian clothes, and god you don’t know what’s sexier the leather jacket or the abs you know are lurking underneath it.

His hair is Slightly disheveled but in a styled sort of way. There’s far less product in it today than normal. He’s let it fall naturally to one side, and it sways gently as he turns his head. He’s clearly had the day off because his facial hair has gone well beyond five o’clock shadow to full blown stubble, and it’s a look that is an absolute crime to shave off.

For a brief moment, very brief, you forget Natasha is sitting in front of you. It’s a feat no other man or woman alive is capable of. No one could hold a candle to the fire she lit except the walking inferno that is Jake Seresin.

Walking. Fuck fuck fuck. You turn away again. There’s no drinks to refill now. It’s too early in the afternoon. There aren’t enough patrons. Penny isn’t even in yet for her shift.

You busy yourself with finding your cleaning rag and wiping down the center island of the bar.

Behind you there is a tinkling laugh. Natasha’s laugh. You’d memorized the sound from the few times you’d managed to cause it. And it tore through you making your heart stutter step. She was laughing at you. Not great, but god what a laugh it was. It wasn’t the same as making her laugh, but it was still such an indescribably happy feeling.

“Jake,” Natasha greeted, and you heard a stool pull out.

She never called him Jake. He never called her Natasha. Call signs only. Even off the clock. This must be … something real.

“Good to see you Nat, did I miss any of the fun?” Gods his voice could make you weak in the knees and he wasn’t even talking to you. You weren’t even looking at him.

You could circle the bar. Circling the bar was good. You weren’t really supposed to hang out on the far side of the center island. It hid the front door and incoming customers from view. You were only supposed to make a quick round. But these were extenuating circumstances. Surely Penny would understand.

“Not at all, we hadn’t even started.”

“Haven’t started and she’s already squirming like that?”

They were talking about you. They had to be talking about you. You didn’t really have an ego, and you would normally never assume anyone was ever talking about you, let alone two people as gorgeous as Natasha and Jake. But they had to be talking about you. There weren’t that many other women in the bar to begin with – a couple regulars over playing darts and one guy with his fiancé in the corner – and you were certainly squirming. At least inside your skin you were squirming.

You can feel your face going red, feel the heat rising under the surface. You choose to ignore it. Ignore them. It is the safest option. You can’t turn around, not as flustered as you are now. You’ll never hear the end of it from Jake if you do. Natasha will give you that knowing smile from time to time, but if Jake saw you like this, flushed at the mere idea they were talking about you, he would tease you till the end of time. You did not have the mental fortitude to deal with Jake “Hangman” Seresin teasing you every day.

“Well, you know (Y/n),” Natasha seems to make a point to say your name a little louder, “we’re gonna have to ease her into it.”

You whip around. You can’t help it. Whether it’s the way she says your name or the tone in which she says she’s going to ‘ease’ you into some unspecified thing, the implications are a shock to the system, and you truly can’t stop yourself from turning around, wide-eyed as a deer in headlights, to face the two pilots.

Jake is grinning at you, smug and self-assured as he always is. His fingers are delicately wrapped around the neck of his beer bottle as he leans back in the barstool. There’s a lazy air about the way he takes a swig from the bottle.

Lazy is not a word you would normally associate with Jake Seresin. His body language is off. The bar is normally his hunting ground. He stalks around the pool tables and dart boards proving his superiority and waiting for the ideal catch, but today he doesn’t seem like he’s hunting. He’s too relaxed, too unaware of every time the door swings open. His eyes are too focused on you.

He's still looking at you like a predator does his prey, the way he usually looks at the beautiful patrons of the bar who throw themselves at his feet. But the urgency is gone, the hunt, the chase, the playing hard to get, it isn’t there. He looks like a predator completely and utterly convinced that his prey is going to run willingly into his claws.

“I-I,” You don’t know what to say.

You manage to tear your gaze away and divert it to Natasha. Whatever you’re seeking there – help, answers, amusement at a joke well played – you don’t find it.

Her eyes aren’t on yours. They’re on your body, roving over your curves like she needs to memorize them for a test later. She’s studying you, and you don’t know if its disconcerting or incredibly appealing. Either way, it pins you in place. You can’t move under her gaze, can’t disrupt the path her eyes are taking over your chest and down to your waist.

If Jake’s eyes left any question as to what they were easing you into, the flash of Natasha’s as they darted back up to meet yours answered it. She looks hungry, downright starving. You don’t exactly feel like prey under her gaze, but you still feel like a meal, a thing waiting to be devoured.

Your eyes go straight to her lips as she catches her lower one between her teeth, gently gnawing on it as she seems to ponder what to say or do.

“Don’t worry, Angel,” Your eyes dart back to Jake’s as he finally sits up and leans in. His voice is quiet, low and rough so the strangers surrounding the bar can’t possibly hear even though you’re still across the bar, frozen, pinned to the center island. “We promise we’ll go easy on you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Natasha adds.

Your hands shoot out and clutch the lip of wood behind you. You have to to keep your feet under you as you feel your knees go weak.

“Mmm,” Jake hums, his eyes following the same trail over you that Natasha’s had a few moments before. It felt like his touch following hers over you, and it was enough to make you bite back a groan. “Looks like you were right, Nat.” He’s addressing her, but his eyes haven’t shifted away from you. “She does want it rough.”

“(Y/n)!”

You jerk back away from the center island and turn around to see Penny ducking under the other side of the bar.

“H-Hey Penny,” You can’t hide it. You know you can’t hide it. Your skin is still red all over, and your eyes are dazed and confused. You’re almost certain that at any moment you’re going to break out in nervous sweats.

Penny sees you and immediately frowns.

Your heart goes into overdrive, thudding loudly in your chest. Natasha has a way of looking straight through you, and you’re praying Penny doesn’t share that talent as she eyes you with concern. If she knew or even suspected, what had been going on between you and the two pilots behind you moments before she walked in, you would quit on the spot. Resign in disgrace never to be seen again.

“You okay honey?” Penny stepped around towards you and put the back of her palm to your forehead. “You look like you’re burning up. Did you get too much sun?”

“N-No, I think I’m just coming down with something.”

Penny let out a quiet hum of agreement as she felt the heat of your skin. “You should head home. I can call in someone else tonight.”

“I… My roommate is my ride, and she’s…”

“I’ll take her!”

Your head jerks around to see Natasha climbing off of her barstool and seemingly collecting herself to leave. She’s giving Penny a sympathetic smile that wreaks of an innocent, helpful nature that was entirely absent just moments before.

“We have a party to get to anyway. I’ll drop her off on the way.”

Jake nods his assent and tilts his head back, downing the rest of his beer in one swallow. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he elongates his neck, and a single trickle of beer leaks out and runs past his jaw down the length of his throat. The smirk he comes up with spells out for you that he did it on purpose.

“Thank you Natasha,” Penny accepts the ride before you even have a chance to consider your options, and she pushes you towards the flap out from behind the bar. “Go home and get some rest.”

You nod along numbly, walking around to join Jake and Natasha. They position themselves on either side of you as they lead you out of the bar.

To everyone watching, it looks like two patrons helping a friend who looks very flushed and confused, possibly drunk or sick. Jake’s arm goes in what should be a comforting embrace around your shoulders, resting his left hand on your left shoulder and giving it a tight squeeze.

Natasha is more obvious, not that anyone seems to notice but you. Her fingers blaze a trail over your skin, not merely wrapping themselves around your waist, but brushing along your back as they go.

“Your choice, angel.” Natasha’s lips touch the outer shell of your ear as she whispers into, her voice husky with what you can only assume is want. “We can take you home, and you can call this a nice, unexpected day off. Or you can come with us.”

Jake’s fingers squeeze your shoulder, longer this time, not a comfort but a warning, “Just know, angel,” You reach the parking lot of the Hard Deck, and Jake pulls the three of you to a stop, him and Natasha standing in front of you with similar, imploring looks. His free hand points between him and Natasha, “We’re kind of a package deal.”

#hangman fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #hangman #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman smut #hangman x phoenix #hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #phoenix x hangman #natasha phoenix trace #phoenix x reader #phoenix x you #natasha trace x you #natasha trace x reader #phoenix x hangman x reader #hangman x reader x phoenix #hangman x phoenix x reader #top gun x reader #top gun fic #hangman top gun #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick

[strangestcase]

Listen… what a lot of people on this webbed site don’t get is that the whole point of the batman and the joker is to reassure cishet men. these two are textually heterosexual -in most continuities, at least-, but notoriously read as queer men, and have done so since their inception, to the point that the homophobic rethoric used to forge the censorship of the Comics Code Authority was built on “clearly, Batman must be a queer hero, just look at him!” followed by “and of course a queer man can’t be a hero! we have to make him straight!” meaning that Batman couldn’t be written as queer while Joker could (for as long as you hid in the plausible deniability of “ah, but he’s attracted to women!” as if bisexuality didn’t exist, and his character wasn’t a homophobic caricature down to the bone). no, Batman and Joker HAVE to be popular with straight men and therefore associated with straightness BECAUSE of their queerness. When DC makes Batman and Joker textually straight AND centers all the attention on them AND makes them out to be the only characters that do things in DC comics, it is saying “look! a butch leather daddy and a flaming pansy that want to fuck each other ARE cool and badass!” as a means not of telling them gay men are deserving of respect… but to subtly sending the message that their little “infractions” of masculinity -which to cis men is as empowering as it is constrictive- aren’t all that bad. Look, this guy wears a leather harness and he’s straight (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) everybody thinks he’s intimidating, so you using cologne isn’t all that bad. Look, this guy wears makeup and bright colored clothes and everybody thinks he’s intimidating, so you piercing your ears isn’t all that bad. Etc etc. if they ever bit the bullet and said “yeah, they’re queer, how could they not be” these cishet men would flip their shit, but for as long as they’re “straight” and badass they will forgive them looking like they’re out of a gay bar. The Batman and the Joker ARE queer men in all but name, that’s the entire point. So of course whenever I see tumblr Gotham rogues enthusiasts go “I don’t like the joker because he’s evil therefore he’s cishet” my blood boils and my soul leaves my body. Like all Gotham rogues serve the “evil queer” role in one way or another, its just that the Joker isn’t allowed to be all-on confirmed to be a gay man because straight men like him PRECISELY due to him being all but explicitly gay!!!!!!

#gotham rogues #batman rogues #batman villains #long post

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 12A: Handle With Care

Been beat up and battered 'round // Been sent up, and I've been shot down You're the best thing that I've ever found // Handle me with care

Soundtrack: “Handle With Care,” Traveling Wilburys, 1988 [click here to listen]

New York City || January 1988

“Watch out!”

Claire Beauchamp hoisted her overnight bag to hang from her shoulder at a different angle, biting back an insult at the man who’d just shoved into her. Nothing good would come from a confrontation, but she still flipped a middle finger from the safety of her pocket.

It was a typical weeknight rush hour at Penn Station – the squashed labyrinth that was such a poor substitute to the grand cathedral to train travel that had been so ruthlessly demolished in the 1960s. Commuters flitted across the concourse, coattails and long winter scarves flying behind as they ran to catch trains to Oyster Bay or Pennsauken. Huddled up against the walls stood the motley crew of homeless, beggars, prostitutes, drunks, and hustlers who tried to stay invisible or plied their trade among the crowd.

She’d been warned against pickpockets, and accepting “taxi” rides from strangers who approached solo women. Her fist clenched around the piece of paper she’d torn from the notebook kept by the phone in her shoebox Boston apartment, where just yesterday she’d scribbled the instructions…

Cross the Amtrak concourse. Up the stairs to the street – the Eighth Avenue side. Up the stairs of the old Farley Post Office. Third column from the left.

Cold air blasted at the top of the escalator at street level. She shoved her hands deeper into her pockets, narrowly avoiding being hit by two boys wearing Rangers jerseys. Stepped around a large puddle as she crossed Eighth Avenue. Kept her head up as she approached the post office, counting columns.

Immediately she knew it was him – though he was a good fifty yards away. Leaning against the dirty old column, long legs crossed, collar of an ancient leather jacket turned up against the cold.

He saw her immediately, too. Stood up straight. Patient.

He took her hands – so cold – at the top of the stairs.

“Why didn’t you bring gloves?”

“Why are you wearing sunglasses at night?”

“I didn’t realize you were a Corey Hart fan,” he teased, grin widening.

She threaded her fingers through his. “Hi,” she breathed.

Jamie stepped closer, still smiling. Kissed Claire long and sweet in the shadow of the column, with hundreds of people bustling by. Anonymous.

--

“And you’re sure it’s not putting him out to have me there, too?”

He hadn’t let go of her hand, and squeezed it, shifting a bit to re-fold his legs in the cramped back seat of the yellow cab.

“It’s definitely not. I’ve told him a lot about you. I hope you don’t mind. He’s really eager to meet you.”

She watched the long string of streetlights dotted down the avenue shift to green. “All right. But I still don’t understand why you won’t tell me who he is.”

“You’ll meet him soon enough.” He brought the back of her hand to his lips for a kiss. “And before you ask – you’ll have your own room. Like we talked about.”

They’d finished treatment at The Ridge just a few weeks apart – he the day after Thanksgiving, she the week before Christmas. Today was their first time together since Thanksgiving morning, in North Carolina, where she cried as he kissed her goodbye and stepped in the limousine that took him to the airport and a private plane back to Los Angeles. He’d called her at The Ridge every day, and then at her apartment in Boston once she returned there.

Because it was definitely, truly real between them. Something in their souls called out to each other. Claire was right – they were each other’s reset from a life that they hadn’t wanted. Now they wanted nothing but a life with each other.

But the Real World was hard – so, so hard. She was still on indefinite leave from the hospital; his band Print was still on hiatus, though thankfully his bloodsucking manager didn’t harass him every day anymore (he’d broken off that business arrangement, thanks to the intervention of Ned Gowan, a fellow patient at The Ridge who turned out to have quite a sharp legal mind when he wasn’t smoking crack). They had returned to their “normal” places, but struggled to build new normal routines.

They talked every day – multiple times a day – running up an astronomical long distance bill that Jamie said he’d pay for Claire. They talked about the people they knew at The Ridge, and the mundane things each of them had done that day, and crazy people Claire had seen in the grocery store, and kind fan letters Jamie had received. They talked about Jamie’s plans to do a string of acoustic concerts in the spring, testing out the dozen new songs he’d written at The Ridge (and since his return) about Claire, and sobriety, and finding strength, and Claire. And they talked about Claire’s plan to return to work, but perhaps as a family physician rather than the pressure cooker of surgery. And they talked about the life they’d build, and the places they could live.

They agreed to take their relationship slow. Not just because of his history with women – but because they could. He invited her to his house in LA, and quickly said that the guest wing was really great and completely at her disposal. She invited him to her cramped Back Bay apartment, and offered her lumpy couch.

All of it was like a dream. So when last night Jamie had asked her to meet him in New York, she didn’t realize that he meant the next day. Because that would make the dream real. Transform the voice on the phone to the living, breathing man that had held the taxi door open for her, and insisted she meet his new sobriety sponsor.

“I know you told me last night how you were introduced to him. But it’s a bit of a blur. Would you mind telling me again?”

He traced the back of her hand with his thumb. “Dougal introduced us.”

“Dougal MacKenzie? From The Ridge?”

He nodded. “They’ve known each other for a long, long time. Ran in some of the same circles, back in the 60s. This guy was living down the street from The Vanguard – that’s a jazz club in Greenwich Village. He and his band would go there every night to check out Dougal’s quartet. I think Dougal played saxophone. Anyway, he and Dougal shared a mutual interest in two things – jazz, and smack. They had the same dealer and everything.”

“But I assume he’s clean now?”

“Yup. He and Dougal got clean around the same time. Dougal left the big city and started The Ridge. This guy stayed. Almost lost his band and his wife. But he’s stronger than ever. And I want to do that, Claire. I want to be like him.”

The cab braked to a stop in front of a handsome brownstone. Claire fished in her pocket for a twenty, and slipped it through the plexiglass divider next to the driver before Jamie could even blink.

He huffed. “I’ll get your bag out of the trunk.”

--

A kindly, middle-aged woman answered the door when Jamie knocked. “You must be Claire! Come in, get out of the cold.”

Claire stepped through the entryway and shrugged out of her coat, hanging it on the coatrack. The entryway opened into a foyer – a staircase hugged the wall at one end, and the long, narrow hallway ended in what could only be the kitchen. Framed gold records – at least a dozen – dotted the wall along the hallway.

“I’ll take your bag to the guest room.” Jamie was already halfway up the stairs.

Claire turned to her hostess. The woman appeared to be in her fifties – laugh lines creased her eyes, and her blonde hair was twisted in a chic bun. “Thank you so much again for your hospitality – ”

“Oh! How rude of me. I’m Glenna.”

Claire gently shook the offered hand. “Thank you, Glenna. You have a beautiful home.”

Glenna smiled. “My husband and I bought it with the advance from his second record, back in ’65. We’ve fixed it all up, over the years. Having projects here really helped him once he got clean, because he had something to really focus on.”

Claire nodded. “Are you – ”

“In recovery? No – I never touched the smack, or anything else. Our daughter was born right before his first record, and then our son a few years later. I couldn’t be high and take care of them, too.” She paused. “Jamie said you met at The Ridge?”

Claire nodded. “Pills. Halcions, mostly. I’m a surgeon, and I threw my career away after my divorce. It’s funny to say, but Jamie was the absolutely last thing that I needed.”

Glenna shook her head. “That’s how it always works, honey. It was the same with me and Alec. Here I am, minding my own business, working as a typist at Columbia Records, when this group of four scruffy guys in sunglasses and leather jackets and motorcycle boots shuffle in to see their A&R guy. Alec took one look at me, and the next thing I know I’m down at the Village Vanguard and he’s holding my hand. We got married six weeks later. That was 34 years ago.”

Claire blinked. “That’s some story.”

“It’s all true.” A middle-aged man appeared from down the hall, kitchen towel slung over his shoulder. “She almost divorced me when I blew ten grand on smack instead of pay the kids’ school tuition. But somehow she stuck with me.” He reached out a hand, smiling kindly. “Alec MacMahon. Welcome to our home.”

Jamie padded softly down the stairs.

Claire frowned a bit, then it dawned on her.

“Alec MacMahon?” she said a bit dumbly. “Holy shit. I had an Uprising poster on my bedroom wall in high school.”

“Which one? The Master of the Horse album cover?” Jamie stepped next to Claire, grinning.

She nodded, mind still processing. “I wore out the record, I listened to it so much.”

Alec smiled. “Well, thanks for buying it. Put my son through college, that record did. But I’m a terrible host. Let’s take a seat in the living room.”

To be continued...

#outlander #outlander fanfic #little bit better than i used to be

[dearinglovebot]

maisie is sooo baby butch. I look at her and I see someone who is about to fall in love with her girl best friend and have the worst sexuality crisis. in two years she’s going to cut all her hair off and invest in a baggy pants + work boots combo look.

claire will know before she can even consider it (bisexual feminist gaydar) and owen will not realize until maisie tells them outright (straight man gaydar). claire will tell him of her suspicions and he’ll be like “idk her style isn’t that different than zia or kayla’s. it’s in fashion these days” in complete earnest forcing her to give him A Look. he also suggested getting franklin a girlfriend once so claire was really just setting herself up.

maisie’ll be like “okay guys don’t make a big deal about this but I’m actually only into girls” and claire will be like I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT love you honey I KNEW IT and owen will be like door-stays-open rule applies to all genders.

she will be showered in absolutely egregious rainbow items and owen will buy an I LOVE MY GAY DAUGHTER shirt that maisie refuses to let him wear in public. he is going to anyways because he does love his gay daughter. just like the I LOVE MY BISEXUAL WIFE mug gets mileage. maisie hits her limit when he starts watching ellen to “learn more about gay culture”.

with claire nothing really changes because again she’s been eagerly anticipating this. maisie realizes belatedly this is why claire was always playing shit like xena warrior princess and buffy the vampire slayer on weekends.

maisie will ask him how to get a girl to notice her and he’ll have to be like “just because I landed your mom does NOT mean I know HOW I did it”. because in his mind he kind of just bothered her until she gave him the time of day and he cannot ethically encourage that. claire will be equally unhelpful with “be yourself” lines. maisie is doomed. luckily for maisie, her mother has a medical condition where she can only befriend homosexuals (zia, franklin, kayla). they give her also terrible but more useful advice like shave half your head and invest in leather jackets.

maisie’s first pride is deeply traumatizing. twinks keep assuming her father is a bear and hitting on him while telling claire she’s “serving major cunt” and just seeing her is a “try not to say MOTHER challenge”. to make things worse, claire’s natural canonical butch-stud magnetism is working over time. owen is fighting for his life while a sea of beautiful masculine women toss his wife around like she’s a basketball. she scores both zia and kayla dates that night. all in all a very lovely day that they end with a drag show dinner performance.

eventually maisie will find a beautiful girlfriend and she’ll be terrorized in a similar way with owen’s new “my daughter’s not gay but her girlfriend is” hat. the more they complain the funnier he thinks it is. claire chides him but she secretly thinks it’s a funny bit.

#jurassic world #maisie lockwood #claire dearing #owen grady #clawen #claire x owen #lesbian maisie is so real and canon #like the girls who get it get it #she gets the gay gene from claire

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school

[braineater444]

To Be A Princess: Fashion Boys

I really think about fashion and aesthetics a lot when writing To Be A Princess and I would like to show you what I Imagine they’re wearing and explain a bit. This post will only include the Haintani brothers and Sanzu because they’re my favorites lol. I do have boards for everyone except Mikey but I’m lazy so??? Ask and you shall receive???

Ran Haitani

Has a complex. Fully thinks he should be a movie star and a prince and everything else good. May actually be a narcissist, but is definitely a sociopath.

He has a rather complex and sad internal world?? And so it manifests in his fashion being a bit emo??? Lots of black and white with little room for color.

It is about being chic for him. He’s tall and thin and he thoroughly enjoys being asked if he’s a model.

He sometimes shops in women’s stores and will pay for clothes he likes out of other peoples closets.

He never fully gave up the gloves. He doesn’t really like touching other people. He’ll do it, but only because he has to.

He knows he has a nice waist and will wear clothes that always effectively show that off.

Tabi enjoyer. Trying (with a little bit of success) to get his little brother into it.

Carries a bag sometimes and that bag carries a gun. Maybe a flask too. He likes to have fun.

He loves designer brands and will wear them with pride.

His jewelry collection is pretty decent and he does buy nice jewelry as gifts as opposed to actually saying “I love you” or marrying any of the people he’s way too old to be leading on.

Has come to terms with the fact that he will most likely be killed as opposed to dying of natural causes, so he dresses like he’s going in the casket at any moment.

Rindou Haitani

Modern day Steel Ball Run sex pot.

He’s weird and so he’s a reverse weeb. His fashion is very American core.

He’s becoming more like his brother in not wearing his glasses, but when he does wear glasses they’re gentle monster.

He takes notes from Ran in his enjoyment of furs, but he likes them to be a little weirder. He likes patterns and strange textures.

Wears straight leg or boot cut jeans to elongate himself because he’s not very tall. Of course, with a heeled boot.

Lots of blue because he misses his blue hair, but matching with his brother is a priority despite being grown as fuck.

He enjoys a nice authentic leather as well as fur because?? He kills people. He doesn’t care about those animals. Cows make great accessories. Srry.

He likes lamb leather even more. It’s so much softer.

Bought a girl a lamb leather bag once and never saw her again. He’s not broken up about it though. Women don’t like him. He’s strange.

He doesn’t wear a lot of jewelry but when he does it’s most likely going to be a ring and it most likely something Ran bought for him to match.

He really loves gold pinky rings. That’s major fashion to him.

He likes tight shirts that show off his pecs.

Thinks about getting a leather holster more often than he should.

Haruchiyo “Sanzu”

Eclectic and free

Wears lots of jewelry to compensate for what he feels like he lacks and because people addicted to drugs wear a lot of jewelry (from what I’ve seen).

He likes color and happiness but often it’s all drowned out.

He doesn’t like when his clothes are too tight. He likes room to move and hates feeling constrained by his clothes.

He doesn’t feel beautiful, so he wears a lot of sparkly things.

He looks at the Haitani brothers and goes “I could do that” and then does something strange instead.

There’s a subtle jealousy of the Haitani brothers and how people flock to and love them. More than anything, he wants to be loved. Especially by Mikey, but… he’s fine being sparkly beside him.

He always needs pockets. He’s got things to hold. Dime bags, guns, a flower he picked and forgot about and now it’s dead.

Some of his clothes are just Ran and Koko’s clothes. Koko usually doesn’t notice until he see’s Sanzu in them.

“Koko, we’re the same size. Just let me keep it.”

When Ran knocked his teeth out, it was Koko’s shirt that he bled all over. And it’s still sitting covered in blood.

He has a tennis bracelet from Ran that he stacks with others all the time.

Sometimes he feels insecure about his face so he’ll wear a mask when doing errands like shopping, but he tries not to.

He’s having fun. He thinks.

#happy first monday in may #3 am and i have work lmao #ran misses his braids too btw

[katierosedreams2]

Money for nothing 2

 I woke up to a text from Becky the next morning. My brain felt foggy, like everything from yesterday was a dream. But her text confirmed that it was defiantly not. “Hey sissy girl! Let’s go shopping today! Me and the girls think it’s time you finally got some skirts, dresses and lingerie sets! And some makeup! You got to look sexy for all those boys now that you finally realize you're the girly sissy you are!!” 

Well I’m defiantly still coming to terms with what happened, but a shopping trip with the girls does sound like fun. “I just woke up! How does 11 at the mall sound?” I replayed back. 

I got up to use the bathroom. I sat to pee like I have since I moved in with Becky. She said I wasn’t allowed to stand to pee, it’s too messy. Now I struggle to pee standing up anywhere, it just doesn’t seem right. I scrolled through my Instagram feed and I realized everything on my feed is what Becky and the girls follow. I literally have been living like a girl! How did I miss this?!?

I was actually excited about picking out some new clothes! I opened my closet and could finally see that it was all just women’s clothes. I went through and carefully picked out each piece I was going to wear today.

Just then I got a reply from Becky “I’ll be over in a few minutes. I have a surprise for you! Don’t get dressed yet!” What kind of surprise could she have for me? 

I made myself a cup of coffee and started the shower. It was warm and relaxing. I shaved my whole body. I enjoyed the feminine soaps that I have used for years now, also Becky’s suggestion. I applied my moisturizer to my face, and plucked my eyebrows to keep their shape pretty. 

I brushed my long blond hair, I decided to wear it down today. I love how long it is! I heard a knock at the door and wrapped myself in my short black satin robe. It hardly went past my butt, and made my smooth legs look really long. 

I opened the door to see Becky standing there looking beautiful! She was wearing short white booties and black low wasted flare pants. Her mid drift was showing her smooth, toned, lightly tanned stomach. She had this cute little white long sleeve crop top on, with this cropped leather jacket on top. In one hand she had her purse and in the other were two large plastic bags.

Her makeup looked super cute with very simple, natural look. Her long hair curled and full of volume. “Hey Samantha! You look so cute! I’m so excited for today!” She said with a bubbly excitement in her voice. 

I smiled back, it was so nice to see my closest friend. As she walked in, I matched her excitement. “Aw thanks Becky! I’m so excited too! Do you need help with those bags?” 

“No, that’s ok, let’s go to your room. It’s time for a makeover!” She exclaimed as she led me straight to my room. She was clearly very excited, as if she had been waiting to do this for years. 

I followed her into my room and watched as she placed the bags on my neatly made bed. “Ok girl! I have a few things to get you started with this new life of yours, and I thought you should go shopping looking stunning! So let’s get you dressed and then I’ll do your makeup! How does that sound?” Her excitement was contagious and I couldn’t help but reciprocate with an infectious “Sounds great!”

Without waiting for my reply, she opened my closet and immediately started pulling out clothes. “Great! Since I already know your whole closet, I thought these few things were all you would need to complete this look! I want you to look like a complete sexy babe for some big daddy to use! To just turn heads everywhere we go. Ok princess, go put some panties on, mmm lacy back would be best!” She just continued to go through my closet. 

I opened up the drawer of my “underwear”. How did I not see that it was all just panties all these years. I picked out a black lace thong and slid it on under my robe. 

I turned around to see she had laid out my black leather jacket, and my cute black cropped zipper long sleeve. As well as one of my bags, I can now see so clearly the purse that it is. What was new were the crotchless tights, the short leather skirt, and the leather 6inch pumps. 

“Oh wow, that’s a super cute outfit!” I replayed. I was very nervous about the shoes, however. “Don’t you think the shoes will be a little much?” I said, the uncertainty clear in my voice. “It will be a little extra, but that’s exactly what I wanted! It’s so cute! Brian loves them, he says they are really sexy! But don’t worry, I have like 3 pairs! I’m so glad you are the same size as me, so don’t worry about giving them back!” She was so excited and enthusiastic.

I had to agree with her, it did look like a super cute outfit. I started to get dressed. I already knew how to put tights on properly, since I dressed the manicians at work. I had to take my panties off though. That way I could go to the bathroom without taking my tights off. 

I grabbed them and started walking to the bathroom. “Where are you going girl?” Becky asked, so confused. “I was just going to go change, so my panties can be on the outside.” I said, unsure why she was asking me that. “Don’t be silly sissy! It’s just us girls here! Besides, I’ve already seen you without your panties! But don’t worry, I promise I won’t laugh again!” She said, almost annoyed that I didn’t already understand that. 

I slowly slid down my panties, exposing my tiny micro dick. My face got red with embarrassment. I tried to put the tights on quickly, but I had to go slow not to ruin them. “Wow! I really did forget just how small you are! It’s so cute! You really do have such a pretty feminine body, this little, um, clitty of yours doesn’t even take away from it! It’s the most girly little dick I’ve ever seen!” 

She walked closer to me, I was just standing there with the tights on holding my panties. “It’s like, not even bigger than the tip of my thumb! And I have small hands!” She said, placing her thumb near me as a comparison. “And your balls are even smaller than that! They are hardly there! Did they ever even drop? I bet they tuck right up when you put your panties on, huh? That would explain why you never had a bump in your girly pants all these years!”

I was red with embarrassment. I just shook my head, yes. “And does your little thing get any bigger when you get excited? Or even get hard?”  She continued, unable to look away, mesmerized by how small it was. “Hardly”. I could only whisper. “Oh my god, that’s hilarious! Yep, you were meant to be a girl! Your body knew it long before you did!”

She looked up and could see the embarrassment on my face. “What’s wrong hunny? I’m not making fun of you! It’s honestly a great feature. You shouldn’t be embarrassed! Now hurry up and get dressed! We’ve got work to do!” She truly seemed like she meant no insult by it. 

What she didn’t know is that I wasn’t insulated by it. I was embarrassed by how happy it made me to hear these things. That it was small and girly. I felt complimented by it, and I was kind of embarrassed by that. This change is a lot. While I do like realizing that I was meant to be a girl, it is happening very fast for me.  

Once I got my panties on, Becky changed her mind, “You know what, let’s do your nails and makeup first! That’s going to take the longest and we are running short on time!” She grabbed me by my hand and pulled me into my bathroom. “OK, put these nails on while I do your make up!”

She handed me some black glossy press on nails. I opened the package and tried my best to glue them on. It was a challenge since Becky needed me to look at her while she did my makeup. However, I managed to do a great job and finished just shortly before she finished with my makeup. 

She wanted to keep it simple with a more natural look. I felt like I looked so pretty! I couldn’t believe just how much I looked exactly like a real girl. I felt like a girl, and that just felt right. We kept my pretty long hair just the way it was. I felt complete having my makeup and nails done, like this is what I had been missing over the past few years. 

I had loved wearing women’s clothes this whole time! I felt more comfortable, more confident, more like myself. But now with this, it feels complete. I had always liked girls with makeup and nails done, always envious that they got to be so pretty. But I had mistaken that as an attraction to the girls, but I truly just wanted to be them. 

“Thank you Becky, I feel so pretty!” I said, full of happiness. “Aw, of course princesses! We’ll get you your own makeup today and some more nails. That way you can always feel pretty!” She said, giving me a big hug. 

I felt a rush of excitement flood over me as I used my long pretty nails to slide the leather skirt up over my wide feminine hips. It was so smooth and felt so nice. As I continued getting dressed, I basked in femininity and felt like I was becoming who I was meant to be. The heels felt great and only lifted me up a few more inches than my other booties do. I felt sexy with my girly legs looking long under my short leather skirt. The cropped long sleeve top and leather jacket really completed the look.

“You look beautiful sissy! A natural girl! I wouldn’t ever think anything else! Now grab that cute purse and let’s go shopping!” Becky exclaimed with some excitement! I looked in the mirror again and felt so sexy. I felt pretty. I felt like me!

As we walked outside my apartment to her car, it was a little cold so I closed up my jacket. I was thinking about how fun it was to have fake nails and how pretty my hands looked as I buckled my cropped leather jacket. Becky looked back at me and suddenly yelled “DONT MOVE!” I froze in place, exactly how I was. “The lighting is great and you look amazing! You're going to flip when you see how much of a natural girl you are!” She was taking pictures on her phone as she spoke. 

“See, look! Perfect! You're such a babe! Even the way you carry your purse is girly! You're a natural born sissy girl! And the way your effortlessly walking in your heels, and that your little dick doesn’t even show! And I can see how much you'er clearly loving this! I don’t feel bad for tricking you one bit!” She said cheerfully!

I smiled at her compliments, but when she showed me the photos my jaw dropped! I couldn’t believe that was me! I looked so pretty! Like one of the fashion girls I follow! “Please send that to me Becky! I have to post that! Let the world see the new me!” I said, trying to contain my excitement!

Our drive to the huge shopping mall near by was great and I was so excited to see the girls! It’s only been a day, but it’s felt like a lifetime of change since I last saw them. I was really looking forward to showing them the real me. 

The girls were so excited to see me. Becky had told them all about what happened to me and I was met with so much support, encouragement, and excitement. They told me how pretty I looked and how I looked just like a girl, I always did. They all said how glad they were that they tricked me into my true self. I was glad they did too! 

Shopping with them was wonderful! It was so fun to be looking for skirts, dresses, heels, lingerie  and so much makeup for myself! I already had such a great idea about women’s clothes and fashion. I felt so pretty and feminine in my sexy skirt and heels as we shopped.

I had a few guys flirting with me, and I couldn’t help but flirt back. The girls loved this and encouraged it even more. One guy even gave me his number! I couldn’t believe I had been missing out on this my whole life!

Each one of the girls bought me something as a gift. A skirt, dress, or a pair of heels. A coming out gift they said. And at the end of our long but fun day we parted ways, giving big hugs and setting up plans to get together soon! Of course, most of us were going to see each other back at work tomorrow. They all told me I’d better wear something pretty for tomorrow, to surprise Camille. 

Becky and I left with her car full of bags and boxes from our shopping trip. So many pretty feminine things. It felt so right and relieving to know I had intently bought  women’s clothes, my clothes, the right clothes. 

Becky and I stopped for dinner at this small little cafe we liked. The waitresses there were so happy to see us. “Well, don’t you look extra pretty Samantha! This look suits you so much!” Their genuine compliments and expectance were so heart warming. 

“I know right! Can you believe it, she didn’t realize she was a sissy girl till last night! And she embraced it fully! Doesn’t she look better this way!” Becky chimed in. They laughed and told us they thought I was a girl all along! They had no idea I was even a boy to start with. 

Dinner was delicious and most of the male staff that casually flirted with us were showing extra attention to me. They all complimented me on my outfit. And one of them even asked me out on a date! I was so shocked and a little conflicted still. I just sat there frozen in my sexy short leather skirt, sexy heels, and sexy crop top, with my mouth slightly open in shock. 

Becky answered before I had the chance! She said “She’d love too! She’s just too excited to even respond! How about Tuesday?” Her cheerful bubblyness disarmed me from telling her to stop. And just like that, before I knew it, I had a date on Tuesday with a man! 

As he walked away, it was like my trance was over, “Becky, I can’t believe you did that!” I said, trying to sound upset, but it wasn’t very convincing. “What? He’s cute! And you two have been flirting with each other for years! So you can thank me by covering the bill!” She said with a bit smile. I couldn’t even pretend to be upset. Nervous, yes, but upset, no. I just opened my cute purse, pulled out my cute girly black patent leather wallet, and paid the bill.

As we left to go back to her car, I couldn’t help but sway my hips as sexually as I could. I really wanted to wiggle my girly ass in my leather skirt for all the men to see! I don’t know what came over me, I just had to do it.

Once we got back to my apartment, Becky helped carry all of my stuff up and put it away. We chatted about the day and how much fun we had. Just as she was about to leave, she produced a bag that I didn’t recognize. We didn’t get that today while shopping. “What’s this?” I asked, confused but excited. 

“It’s a business gift from all us girls to you! It’ll help make some more money! All the girls use one and it brings in lots of extra cash. Plus, it might be useful in your personal time too! I had fun with you today, girl! I’ll see you soon, ok princess! By!” She said as she was walking out the door. 

“I had fun too, see you!” I could hardly get out before she closed the door. I looked down at the bag with a suspicion of what might be in it. I pulled out a long box. And then another box with it. They were both plain cardboard. Opening the long one, I reached my small girly hands and wrapped my pretty manicured fingers around this huge, thick, thing. Pulling it out was a giant dildo! At least ten times longer than my own and I could hardly get my hand around it!! 

I was in shock! My mouth just hung open! This is massive! There’s no way any guy is even this big! I had to text Becky, this had to be a joke! “This thing is huge! There is no way some guy is actually this big! Is this just a prank?” As I waited for a reply, I opened the other box. I saw this large bottle with a white liquid inside. It read cum lube. Oh my god, this thing squirts cum!! 

“Lol! That’s hilarious sissy girl! Are you kidding? That thing is medium sized! A small dick is anything less than 8 inches, that thing is only 10. Medium length and thickness. Brian is at least 3 inches longer and an inch thicker than that! I guess you are so micro that it must be a shock to see a real man's cock! Lol! Have fun and use the lube! Can’t wait to hear the details later! Good luck girl!” Becky's reply surprised me. No wonder I was meant to be a sissy, if this is how big real men are!

Wow, this is a medium sized cock!? I still couldn’t believe it! My hand looked so small holding it. My shiny black finger tips are not even able to wrap themselves fully around it. It felt heavy in my girly hand. And then, without thinking, standing there in my sexy little outfit, I put the tip up to my lips.

I held it there for a fraction of a second, the big rubber head of the cock just barely touching my plump lips. And then I slid it in. It was an absolute immediate rush. I felt so horny and sexy. I could hardly get the tip in, it was so big. And then, as if a mystical force came and weakened my knees. My legs gave out and I fell on my knees with this huge cock in my mouth. I had no idea what was possessing me! I couldn’t stop sucking on this massive cock! 

My little clitty tingling as I felt just like the slutty girl I resembled with this huge dick in my mouth! I snapped out of it and pulled the massive cock out of my mouth. I haven’t been this horny in my whole life! And much like last night during that stream, my micro dick was completely soft. It was even shrunk as much as it’s ever been, as if to show its submission in the presence of this superior cock.

I couldn’t believe what just happened! I wasn’t even horny before I did that! I’ve never been turned on that fast! I decided not to waste this. I didn’t want to think about what was happening. I wanted it to happen. I logged into my account and scheduled a stream. I rushed to touch up my make up. Adding extra glossy lip gloss to my dick sucking lips. I checked my hair and my outfit. I decided to take off my long sleeve top, and just have the leather jacket open, showing off my feminine torso. I felt like I looked exactly like a girl with small boobs.

I rushed over and filled the huge dildo with the cum lube. It even smelled like cum! It was so real looking I couldn’t even tell the difference. I made sure my camera had a good view and quickly removed my panties. This made my teeny tiny dicklet make a very small bump in my skirt. I almost put them back on to make myself look completely smooth. But I thought the men here wanted a sissy. I might as well hint to them that is what I am, even though it was hardly noticeable. 

I was getting so excited. I was looking at myself on the screen and felt so pretty and sexy. I did notice my lighting wasn’t the best and I thought I should invest some money in better lighting. And maybe a better camera too. If I was going to do this, I wanted it to look good! 

I then got a brilliant idea from a porno I remember watching. I rushed over to my closet and took the long mirror off the wall. It was kind of heavy, and I’m pretty weak, but I did manage to carry it in front of my computer. I knelt down and stuck the huge dildo to it. I checked to make sure I was still in the frame. God, I looked so sexy! I couldn’t believe how horny this all made me! I pushed it just off screen so it could be a surprise. 

I had only a few seconds before the stream started. I checked my makeup again, and waited for it to be live. I noticed I had three followers already from my first stream. Wow, three guys liked me that much? As soon as it went live, there were five guys waiting to see me. I gave them all a cute girly wave as I stood there in my sexy outfit. Just modeling, it’s to see what they think.

The comments were incredulous, positive and, drogitoy. “Damn bitch! You got looking so much better! You want this dick don’t you!” “Way to step up your game slut!” “This little faggot is desperate for cock!” Were just some I could read. The chat was moving too fast. More and more men kept joining. Before I knew it, there were fifty men watching. As I danced and moved as seductively as I could, I realized I had just made one hundred dollars and it had only been 5 minutes! 

I can’t believe it! That’s more than I make in a whole day of work! I typed back “hi boys! I hope I can give you all a good time!” This was really turning me on! I felt so sexy as I danced seductively, letting my cute girly hands caress my feminine body. The feel of the soft leather as I moved down over my “tits” and over my skirt, to the smooth feel of my hairless legs in the sheer crotchless tights. 

I moved effortlessly in my heels as they clicked on the floor. I felt so pretty, so alive, so sexy, and so horny. As I read the degrading comments in the chat, I tried to do as I was commanded by the men who gave extra money. They wanted to see my micro penis and they all seemed delighted in humiliating me on how small and useless it was. I couldn’t believe it but this was turning my on so much and my limp baby dick started to leak precum reading their comments. 

They all talked about how big their cocks were compared to mine and how I was born to be a sissy slut. No real man could be that small. That’s when I reached off screen and pulled the mirror in frame with the massive dildo on it. I compared myself to it for the first time. My whole package took up less room than just the head of this cock, with room to spare. I felt humiliated, emasculated, girly, slutty, and proud all at the same time. I am such a failure as a man, but already such a success as a woman.

The men loved this and I rubbed my little nub on this massive dick. I pulled my leather skirt back down over my clitty and slowly got down to my knees. I gently kissed the head of this perfect cock a few times. I then slid it into my mouth and took it as far as I could. I wanted it all the way in. But with its massive size filling up my whole mouth, I could hardly handle it. And as soon as I hit my throat I started to gag. 

Oh my god I’m dressed like a slut and gagging on cock like one too! And this is the horniest I’ve ever been! I was dripping so much pre cum I could feel it going down my leg. I finally was able to get to past my gag reflex and down my throat. I could feel it stretching me in a way I had never felt before, but absolutely loved! I looked at myself in the mirror, seeing this sexy slut staring back. The kind of girl who just the other day I would have said I was attracted too, not realizing I was attracted to being her, not being with her.

I sucked as hard and  as deep as I could. Gaging and spitting up so much saliva. I made sure to move around so the men could get different angles of me degrading myself for their pleaser. Making sure not to cover up any part of this display of submission to these alpha men and this physical representation of their cocks. 

One shot with my ass showing to the camera. My ass up in the air as if begging to be fucked. My tiny balls hardly even noticeable next to my large plump girly ass. My little clit so small you couldn’t even see it past them. You could see the back of my head and my face in the mirror as I bobbed back and forth of this incredible dick!

As I moved to a side view, I got to see on the screen just how sexy of a profile I had. It was like so many models I follow on Instagram. I saw just how big my dick sucking lips were wrapped around a cock. This just turned me on as the rhythm of it sliding deep down my throat was turning me on more and more. This felt more incredible than touching my own clit. Which was still leaking so so much pre cum!

The final shot, I had the back of the mirror angled to the camera, but still off to the side enough that you could see all of me and every inch of the dildo. I looked and felt just like a porno slut! I loved it so much! I sucked and sucked. Before I knew it, I looked down and saw I had been doing this for 45 minutes! 

Most guys had said so many degrading sexy things that I loved reading and then just as one guy paid me twenty dollars to hurry up and make him cum already, I leaned back, holding my mouth wide open and spreading my knees apart, sliding my skirt up to show my pathetic micro dick, trying to look as sexy as I could, I made the fake cock cum.

It squirted so much cum all over me! All over my face, chest, skirt, and clitty. I pretended to stroke the rest of the fake cum out of it as it finished off what it had. I put it back in my mouth and gently sucked on the head, just like I had seen the bimbos in pornos do.

I looked at the screen and saw so many comments about how the men were all cumming. I also saw myself covered in thick heavy cum, dressed like a sexy whore, and at that moment, with the huge fake dick in my mouth, I think I feel in love with being a girly slut. 

I couldn't take it any more, I had to finally cum! I reached my small girly hand down and with my thumb and index finger I gently stroked my mini limp dick. It looked so small and pathetic with my black glossy nails also covered in cum, hardly moving back and forth an inch if even. 

The image of me doing this and the feeling of the head of this cock in my mouth drove me over the edge and I dripped a few small drops of cum as I came the hardest I had ever came in my whole life! I was in complete ecstasy at that moment and I never wanted it to end. My life changed permanently forever. I loved this. I had made three hundred seventy two dollars, and confirmed I was meant to be a girly faggot sissy to all men in one night. 

As I finally slowed down, I kept the cum all over me and thanked the boys for watching. I closed the stream but I kept the fake cum on me. I just wanted to bask in what happened to me as I laid down on my bed completely exhausted! I put my hands on my body, feeling the leather and the fake cum. I slowly rubbed my clit with my cute manicured index finger as I drifted off to sleep.

-Katierosedreams Og Cap

[saintvitusdancexd]

Christian borle quotes

“Why does every leading man have to be barrel chested and have a chin, isnt there room for the chinless men”

“Oh. He’s praying”

“Ai ai! Oompa-loompa-loo ca ca cao cao oompa-loompa want it now now now Ai ai ai ai! oompa-loompa wanna chew chew chew”

“Towards the boobs”

“Bobby canavale and I hugged in a way which suggested that we both dated Sutton foster”

Interviewer: what’s a sweet treat that you cannot resist? “Kristin Chenoweth?”

“I have been using it in real life and let me tell you the bend and snap works very well”

“Drinking :)”

“You weren’t just rude to these nice people you were rude to me��

“I saw the elephant man too early in my life”

“I was president and co-founder of the Ed grimley club”

“She was really discovering a whole new world in her bonnet”

“The rock star of 1595”

*talking about a conversation he had with the casting person for legally blonde* “she told me Your emmet isn’t handsome, to which I thought oh that’s great :(, and he said, and I told her, that’s the point🙄”

“That’s not water”

“She was that wicky wacky hula hula honka wonka Honolulu
Hawaiian honey of mine
When I saw her in the hut
She was cracking coconuts
With a crazy kind of rhythm double-time
I'm gonna build a little wicky wacky ticky tacky
Sugar shacky love nest out of pine
For that wicky wacky hula hula honka wonka Honolulu
wicky wacky hula hula honka wonka Honolulu
Hawaiian honey of mine”

“God how the young- your smoking pot now aren’t you”

“Just basically thrust everything that has been given to me by nature in their faces for like three minutes straight”

Interviewer: how do you not fall in love with Andrew Rannels? “You just do, that’s the easy part, that’s the best part”

“I vote we use the cock sock to keep the white wine cold”

“BOOK NOOK”

Interviewer: what’s your spirit animal? “This is a two part answer, first is, it would be a toad. The second is, a rabid coyote”

“Half of my work is just turning around and shaking what the good lord gave me”

“He was a Tony nominee which I was before I won a tony”

“ I almost liked you in that last scene way to go”

“ im going to start with a slight loofa, im going to Segway maybe have myself a glass of champagne, I’ll do a very light foundation that you won’t be able to see the whole point is that it doesn’t look like im wearing makeup, I’ll probably drag a flat iron through my hair, i think im going to wear two different undershirts, one for luck and one for sweat, I’ll then get into my suit, then get out of my suit so that I can eat, i don’t wanna spill anything on it, pick a tie, then double think the tie, then triple think the tie then go with my original tie, put on my shoes and walk out the door, simple”

Interviewer: maybe the leather pants “no I pretty much enjoy them too”

“@naightyjack-a-nape it dost confound to think such a knavish iron-witted dog-ape like Christian borle is popular with anyone but the whores and groundlings”

“Booze”

“I don’t find it awkward changing pants I do it every day”

Interviewer: I thought you shaved your head for this role “ I sure did” so then why do you have hair there? “Just shut up”

“Seriously I just urinated all over my pants and this couch”

“I’m learning how his hips move”

Interviewer: what does it look like when your trying to resist it “well that’s how I lost my hair”

“You couldn’t hate me, I’m, im too lovable”

“Whizzer a supposed to always be here, making dinner, set to screw, that’s what pretty boys should do”

“Shalom from hell”

“Those two tigers who ended up eating Siegfried and Roy were talented too”

“Or I could just gouge my own eyes out”

“The world is better with you in it, just not my world”

“And for your information, homophobe, that critic wasnt in your pocket, he was having sex with your father”

“I felt like a little boy, in an arena of men and women”

“I love you, as much as I am able, considering wealthy, considering your poor”

“IS MY GIRL GORGEOUS”

“Then he caught a chicken disease, called cockodoodleitis”

“Green eggs and ham, green eggs and fuckin ham”

“I like to look at tall men in mesh shorts”

“You wake up one morning with hair on your balls, and suddenly you think I don’t exist”

“I haven’t worn deodorant in a decade”

“It’s just a bit of windy”

“Other shin”

“Cock sock talk with jack Davenport”

Who’s dick is in the microwave, is that what we’re playing already?”

“Less Karen’s parents, more gay sex”

“I bet your milkshake brings all the boys to the yard but I’m not interested”

“It helps that in real life I am just a raging narcissist”

#christian borle #quotes #funny #musical theatre

[killalluchihas]

good vibes/bad juju - 55

While on a mission overseas, Gojo gets K-O'd by an unknown person. Within a week, every sorcerer in Japan has heard about it. (A JJK OC story - Rated M, Graphic Violence)

[Chapter One] [Ao3 link] [Previous] [Next]

–/–/–

chapter fifty-five: sweet and sour Gojo is acting up

Light begins to fade from the sky as Gojo makes his way towards Shoko’s place. It’s a short walk from the apartment provided for Yoshi, so he shouldn’t complain, but he grumbles anyway because he went through the trouble of fetching his new teacher only to find out she’s not even home.

His finger slides along the edge of his phone, rubbing at the dent in the top right corner over and over again. Gojo can’t recall when it got damaged. He drops his phone all the time, but it doesn’t matter when he can replace it so easily.

Speaking of replacing things…

Gojo grumbles under his breath some more, but resists the urge to nag poor Nitta again. It’s only been a few hours since he asked the assistant to get replacement shoes for Yoshi. But today would’ve been a good opportunity to give Yoshi something.

Instead, he can still taste the cake on his tongue. Still see the earnest look on her face. He keeps going over their brief conversation, and all it proves is that Yoshi has a soft heart. All it does is make him annoyed about his mission from Tengen.

“What if you’re wrong?“ he asks. “You’ve never even met her.”

Tengen unfolds their arms, and an old scroll appears in their grasp. “If it is proof you require, I shall give you the means to find it.”

–/–/–

“Don’t be nervous,” Shoko says lazily, tapping out the ash from her cigarette. “Utahime likes you already.”

“She didn’t tell you that,” Yoshi scoffs, pulling at her sock. “And I’m not nervous. I just want to know what to expect.”

She’s had drinks with coworkers and peers before, but she’s not good at it. Not unless Wendy’s there to keep up the light conversation and smooth over any conflicts. And there’s a different drinking culture in Japan compared to America. At least, Yoshi thinks there is. Something about juniors paying for seniors and pouring their drinks, but she isn’t sure.

“They don’t expect anything, because you’re new and young,” Shoko insists.

And foreign, but Shoko’s too polite to say it. Or maybe it doesn’t matter as much to the teachers compared to the council. Except, maybe it does matter to Utahime, who’s always proper and formal. She wears a shrine maiden outfit, who does that?

Yoshi straightens up after slipping on her boot, inspecting the brown leather against the cream-colored socks she’s borrowing from Shoko. It’s no miko outfit but her wardrobe has improved.

Her hair swings down over her eyes again, despite the pin holding it back. **Yoshi huffs, pulling off her shoe. She’s dying to tie up her hair, but doesn’t want to answer questions about the giant bandage on her neck. It’s best to let it heal naturally rather than get help from Shoko. A quick fix would come with more repercussions. But all that just means she has to deal with her tangled mess of hair for the evening.

Shoko narrows her eyes, clearly understanding her unvoiced complaint. “It’s fine. Most women would kill to have that much volume.” She flicks her pin-straight locks to make a point, and then heads into the bathroom to do her makeup.

Yoshi isn’t convinced, not when her hair gets frizzy in the summer humidity within minutes of stepping outdoors, but it’s not worth arguing over.

She shuffles into the bathroom next to Shoko, eyeing their pooled resources. Nobara managed to sneak a few products into Yoshi’s cart while they shopped, and Shoko has her own modest selection of makeup.

“That’s a good brand,” Shoko says approvingly at the foundation in her hands. “You just need a dab of it.”

“You’re right, it looks nice,” Yoshi murmurs, pleasantly surprised that Nobara picked the right shade for her. Most of the foundation she saw in the shops looked too light for her skin. She eyes the black pen that Shoko picks up. “Eyeliner?” she asks in English, because she isn’t sure of the Japanese for it. This is one of the reasons she likes Shoko; she can ask for clarification without receiving any mockery or criticism for not knowing every single word and phrase in Japanese.

“Airainā,” Shoko parrots back the word slowly in Japanese and Yoshi realizes it’s a modern word she could have figured out on her own, because it sounds just like the English version. “I always put this on first, because I usually screw up a few times—”

Down the hallway a door swings open, accompanied by a deep, loud voice. “SHOKO! Stop hogging my teacher!”

Shoko utters a low curse. Yoshi glances back at her, only to find a jagged black streak over her face. Shoko scrambles for a tissue before it dries down. Meanwhile, Gojo stomps around the entryway like a huffy toddler. Yoshi swears that she hears him kick off his shoes one at a time and it makes her smile to herself.

“Where are you?!”

Before either of them can answer, a tall figure fills the doorway behind them.

Yoshi tries not to look at him, still fussing with the foundation. She could probably use more product, but she doesn’t trust herself to do a full face of makeup in the time they have left.

She can feel Gojo’s stare on her, and it isn’t helping.

“You can leave now,” Shoko says blandly, onto her second attempt at eyeliner.

“Shoko,” Gojo sounds oddly serious. “Go change your outfit.”

“Huh?”

Yoshi frowns at him through the mirror. “What’s your problem?”

“Change your clothes,” he says again, almost looking angry.

“Why?” Shoko’s eyebrows creep upward.

Gojo growls, and gestures sharply at the two of them. “You’re not allowed to match with each other. That’s not fair!”

A laugh escapes her throat before she can stop it. Yoshi fixes her gaze back on her own reflection, and then Shoko’s. Yoshi only owns a singular dress, the one that Nobara picked out today. It’s a deep green, floral sort of thing that ends above her knees. She doesn’t have the choice to wear anything else, but Shoko reassured her it was appropriate. To prove it, Shoko found the most similar green outfit in her closet to wear and match with Yoshi.

“I’m not changing,” Shoko tells him dryly, leaning against Yoshi’s shoulder. “We look too good together.”

“What about me?” Gojo all but wails, edging into the bathroom though it’s definitely not meant for three occupants. “I’m wearing blue. Who am I supposed to match with? I’m not gonna be your third wheel—!”

“I need a smoke.”

She just had a smoke, but that doesn’t stop Shoko. She scoops up a few products and darts for the exit, squeezing past Gojo as he continues to grouse over their predicament.

“You have ten minutes to change!” Gojo calls out after the doctor, taking her spot next to Yoshi. “I can’t believe the nerve of that woman. Look at me, I can’t go out like this!”

Yoshi finally takes a good look at him.

There’s a soft touch of pink flushing his cheeks and nose, matching his frowning lips. She watches him run his hand over his hair, tousling it. He’s wearing crisp grey slacks and a fitted blue sweater, so unlike his loose uniform, and the difference is big. Literally. Gojo looks taller and broader, shoulders and chest rounded by muscles, thighs filling out his slacks. His glasses slip down the bridge of his nose as he mutters about warm and cool colors.

The truth tumbles out with alarmingly little effort.

“You look handsome,” she says.

He stops short, dropping his hand. His hair flops down over his forehead again. Yoshi watches his reflection in the mirror, trying not to fidget because she’s not nervous.

“Liar,” Gojo blurts out. He’s grinning like a madman, all his concern washing away. “You think I’m handsome?”

Surely there’s no point in answering. He’s not just handsome, he’s obviously, universally good-looking, the sort of way runway models and paintings in museums are pleasing to the eye. She doesn’t think she could say that out loud without feeling silly, even if it’s true.

“You don’t need to say it,” Gojo teases. “I already know you like me.”

This time, she doesn’t answer because it’ll just rile him up more. Yoshi refocuses on her makeup selection, figuring she’ll just do mascara so they can leave. It’s not like she needs blush right now.

“Though you did go behind my back, matching with Shoko,” he continues ruefully. “I’m hurt.”

She steps back to inspect her whole face, trying not to pick at her lips. They’re a little chapped, but she has a balm somewhere for it.

Gojo leans on the counter, blocking her view. Before she can order him to move, he adds, ”You look very pretty.”

A smile pulls at his lips, one of easy joy, and Yoshi can’t look away.

“Thank you,” she replies, but she says it out of reflex more than anything. She can’t think of what else to do, actually.

“Something’s missing, though,” Gojo says suddenly.

Yoshi pauses, raising her eyebrows. “What?”

His lips press together in consideration. Then he reaches for her side, lifting her hand up until it’s level with his chest. He taps on her arm. “See?”

Her dress is sleeveless, and she’s taken off her bracelets, so all that’s left to see are the lines of her tattoos on her forearm. Yoshi frowns. “So what? I’m not going to a bathhouse,” she mutters defensively. Surely there’s no rule against tattoos at the restaurant they’re going to.

“Hm? Oh, it’s not that,” Gojo reassures her quickly. He looks down at her tattoos like he’s seeing them for the first time, tracing a thumb over two parallel ink lines. She’s going to end up with goosebumps if he keeps doing that.

“Well,” she says uncertainly, “I’m not bringing any slap bracelets. Why would I bring talismans to—“

“It’s not that either,” he laughs. He drums his fingers over her wrist, and she wonders if he can feel her rising pulse or the loud thumps of her heart. “Your watch is missing.”

Yoshi looks up at him, puzzled. He’s right, she usually wears a cheap digital watch, but it got destroyed on her mission to Cambodia. “I broke it,” she explains as he drops her wrist. “I’ll get a replacement eventually. I haven’t had the time—what are you doing?”

He’s fiddling with his own wrist now, unlatching a black leather band. “Obviously,” Gojo drawls, “I’m giving you a watch.”

“I don’t want your watch,” Yoshi says at once, eyes widening. “Gojo. Stop that.”

“No. Gimme your hand—“ He grabs her instead of actually waiting for her to comply. Now that the idea’s struck him, he‘s intent on following through. “You’re always wearing that watch. I don’t need this right now, I’m never on time.”

“I don’t need it either,” Yoshi disputes, pulling back.

He firms his grip. “But you like having a watch. You keep grabbing at your wrist like you miss it.” Carefully, he lays the band over her wrist.

“When did I do that?” she scoffs.

“You did it all day!” Gojo exclaims.

Her eyes narrow. “No I didn’t.” She did check her phone more often, just to look at the time.

Gojo shakes his head. “You did. During the goodwill event, at home, in the car. You must’ve lost it on Monday, right?” The buckle locks into place and he releases her.

“Yeah, I did…” Yoshi looks down at the watch. It’s all black and not too shiny, except for the ring of silver around the dial. She doesn’t recognize the brand, but there’s a weight to the wristwatch that makes her think it’s extremely luxurious and expensive. It’s bigger than her usual watch, but not too bulky to wear for just one evening.

“It looks good on you,” Gojo compliments her.

Yoshi hesitates.

She shouldn’t wear this, it probably costs more than anything she owns. Yoshi turns her wrist to read the time, and admits to herself that she does miss her watch. She likes wearing one so that she can calculate the time difference between here and home whenever she wonders about the people waiting for her in New York. Gojo doesn’t know that, but he figured out anyway that she was missing it.

“It doesn’t match my outfit,” is what she ends up saying, even though she doesn’t care about that.

Gojo doesn’t either. “So what? You still look pretty,” he argues.

Yoshi rolls her eyes. She doesn’t feel too flustered now that Gojo isn’t so close, but he seems determined to put her on edge.

“You’re too pretty,” he continues slyly, lowering his voice, “for just drinks with a bunch of lame sorcerers. We should ditch them.”

“Ditch them?” she repeats, astonished. “And then what?”

He shrugs. “Let’s go to Disneyland.”

His smile stretches into a proper grin, childishly eager. A burst of fondness runs through Yoshi when she realizes that he’s completely serious.

“Gojo,” she exhales in a half-laugh, half-sigh. “Why didn’t you suggest that first?” His mouth opens in surprise, but Yoshi just pulls away from him. “I can’t do that, I already dressed up to match with Shoko,” she explains.

He cocks his head, catching her meaning. “But you would have gone to Disneyland if I asked earlier?”

“Yes,” Yoshi says, like nothing else could be more obvious. Going to an amusement park with Gojo would’ve been fun, and much easier than socializing with a bunch of people she barely knows.

He smothers the grin trying to overtake his face. “Next time, then?”

Her amusement dims a little. She wonders if she’ll last that long, or if the Barrier will make a move first.

“Next time,” Yoshi suggests anyway, “I’ll tell you what color to wear.”

–/–/–

Utahime isn’t hard to identify when they reach their destination. She’s the one oscillating between a glower and a smile as she looks at Gojo and the other sorcerers. It’s the other people that Yoshi has some difficulty placing.

“The older one is Kusakabe-san,” Gojo says quietly, hanging back a little while Shoko walks ahead to smooth over the pout on Utahime’s face. Yoshi bites the inside of her cheek, hoping he clarifies further because there’s two older-looking men he could be talking about. “He teaches our second-years, and he’s almost as lame as Utahime. I didn’t think he would show up, sorry. And you know him, but Nanami is the only blonde sorcerer—“

“The person that drove here was blonde,” Yoshi argues. Kusakabe must be the older black-haired man. She does remember Nanami, Wendy talks about him.

“Who, Nitta? Assistants don’t count, forget her,” he says dismissively. Yoshi fights back an eye roll. “And you can ignore the guy in the hat, he’s not a teacher.”

“Then why is he here?” Yoshi watches the man speculatively. He might be as young as she is.

“I have no clue. He’s not worth remembering,” Gojo claims, and then they’re close enough to be heard by everyone else, so Yoshi can’t protest.

“Yoshi-san,” Utahime greets her kindly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” Yoshi says back.

“Of course,” she smiles.

“Yoshi-san, it’s nice to meet you,” another sorcerer interjects. It’s the one wearing a beanie hat. Up close, the hat looks strangely bulky. “I’m Ino Takuma. Nanami has told me about you!”

He thrusts out his hand, so Yoshi shakes it, even though it feels overly formal.

“Hello Ino-san,” Yoshi replies, and tries to not to react when she feels a sharp prod on her side from Gojo.

“Nanami has been mentoring me, I’m working my way up to becoming a grade one like him,” Ino explains with an earnest smile.

Yoshi nods mutely. I’m a grade one, right? she thinks. As far as she remembers, they don’t rank the same way in America. Until Gojo came around she didn’t have an official rank, but some Americans call her a specialist because of her talismans.

“Oi, oi,” Gojo butts in, leaning over her shoulder as the group heads inside. “No work talk! This is supposed to be fun. Who invited you, anyway?”

“Don’t be so rude,” Nanami sighs, as if he’s already resigned to it. “I already had plans to see Ino tonight when you begged me to come.”

Warm air buffers their conversation as they step into the izakaya, and Yoshi looks around with interest. It’s kind of like a bar, but fancier than any place Yoshi would’ve picked. At least she’s dressed appropriately.

“Begged? Who’s begging?” Gojo crows, ignoring the hostess that approaches them. “You should be grateful that your senpais still invite you out.”

Nanami mutters something back, trying to keep his voice down as Gojo argues with him.

Utahime speaks to the hostess, and they get directed to a private room, which is definitely more expensive than Yoshi would like. One side of the table has a long cushioned bench, and the other side has chairs.

“Here, you can—“ Utahime tries to offer her one of the chairs.

“Sit, sit, right here,” Gojo talks over her, steering Yoshi by the shoulders towards the bench. “She’s trying to poach you for Kyoto.”

“I am not!” Utahime says hotly.

Yoshi’s going to be stuck between Nanami and Gojo, which—isn’t terrible, really.

Actually, Nanami offers her a short, appreciative nod, and Yoshi figures that she’s going act as an intermediary between him and Gojo, who sits down at the head of the table. Across from her is Shoko, separating Utahime from Gojo as well. That leaves the other two sorcerers, the strangers to Yoshi, on the far end of the table.

The seating arrangement will make it harder to talk to the sorcerers she’s unfamiliar with. Anything they say to her will be overheard by Gojo, and Yoshi thinks, maybe, that he’ll help her avoid looking like an idiot in front of these people. Hopefully. He might just find it funny when she gets someone’s name completely wrong…

The waitress talks to them for a bit, but Yoshi kind of misses what she says, still looking around the room and trying to keep track of what the other teachers are doing. Nanami’s friend talks a lot, and Kusakabe seems to have inside jokes with Utahime. Yoshi doesn’t know who to pay attention to, so she just looks at the menu.

They order drinks and food, and as soon as the waitress is out of sight, Shoko turns to Gojo and asks, “You’re really ordering that?”

“What, karaage?” Gojo says defensively. “What’s wrong with chicken, huh?”

“Not that,” Nanami speaks up, leaning forward past Yoshi to look at Gojo. “Usually you order some ridiculous sugary concoction. A lemon sour? You’ll hate it.” His gaze darts over to Yoshi for a second, but she isn’t sure what he’s thinking.

“I’m always open to trying new things,” Gojo replies adamantly. “Especially things that aren’t beer. You guys are so boring.”

Yoshi doesn’t know what everyone ordered, but judging by the outrage on her face, Utahime ordered a beer.

“This one comes with simple syrup,” Yoshi points out. Not just to defend Gojo, but because she ordered one too. “It’s good, unless you don’t like sour things?” she asks.

Gojo answers with a carefree grin. “I like it sweet, but sour’s fun too.” Gojo says it like he’s talking about more than just mixed drinks, but Yoshi sort of expected that.

“Whatever you say,” Nanami mutters, rubbing his temple like he’s preparing for a headache.

–/–/–

Over the course of the evening, Yoshi learns a few things about the sorcerers around her.

She learns that Nanami drinks hard liquor, but not as much as Shoko does. To her surprise, Gojo isn’t much of a drinker: he obnoxiously announces to them all that his drink tastes great, but Yoshi notices that he’s only taken a few sips by the time her own glass is running low. Ino, on the other hand, is eager to mimic Nanami, including his taste for scotch whiskey, but his face starts to flush red after a few minutes. Yoshi’s already forgotten the other Tokyo sorcerer’s name, but she finds out he fights with a sword and that Gojo doesn’t like him at all.

“I thought you were still in Hiraizumi,” Gojo tells the sorcerer, completely unapologetic. “That’s why I invited you.”

“I just got back this afternoon,” the man replies, unbothered, wiping at the condensation on his beer bottle.

“Such a long journey. You could’ve declined and taken the day off.” Anyone else would have sounded thoughtful as they suggested it, but Gojo just wants the poor guy to leave.

Still, the sorcerer doesn’t seem to take it to heart. He must be used to Gojo’s attitude. Yoshi really ought to figure out his name, but no one’s said it in a while.

“Ah, but I’ve been meaning to catch up with you all. Including,” he inclines his head to Yoshi, “Our youngest addition.“

“Why’s that?” Gojo leans over to her side a bit, like he’s trying to catch the teacher’s gaze before it can land on Yoshi. “What business does an old man like you have with the youth of today?”

Yoshi scowls. “Youth of today? I’m not a student.”

“I’ve wanted to speak with Yoshi about the rumors,” the Tokyo teacher continues, ignoring Gojo. He sets down his beer and folds his arms. “Did you really beat this guy? Even if it was a fluke, I’m curious.”

His question causes the others to quiet down, to turn all their eyes to her. It takes Yoshi a moment to realize what he’s even talking about—or rather, when. Back in August, when Yoshi went after a curse vessel and first ran into Gojo. And beat him.

“Well,” Yoshi starts, but then she feels Gojo’s hand cover her bare knee and she can’t think anymore. She looks over at him and can’t decipher the expression on his face. “That was… at that time, I…”

Get a grip, she chastises herself, He just doesn’t want you to talk about Germany. But his hand is so warm and she can feel the calluses over his palm and it’s driving every rational thought out of her head. Gojo takes over before she can figure out how to answer.

“No one beat me, first of all,” Gojo establishes haughtily. “We just had a little misunderstanding. And Yoshi got in a good punch. It was so impressive that I had to hire her for it.” He rubs his cheek, as if remembering it now. Yoshi doesn’t have the foggiest recollection of whatever he’s talking about. He’s still holding her leg, not moving an inch. She should probably shift her knee to get rid of him, but all she wants to do is stay perfectly still.

Utahime exhales, leaning her elbow on the table. “That’s still a big deal. It’s been a while since anyone’s landed a hit on Gojo.”

Yoshi hums, avoiding a proper answer.

“Was it your technique?” Ino asks curiously. “You don’t have to answer, though. I know some people are secretive about their abilities.”

Gojo looks to her patiently, meaning to let her answer this however she’d like. Yoshi wonders at the easy smile on his face. Gently, she feels his finger press down against her, and then his hand finally slides off her leg. She doubts anyone noticed, with the angle of the table and the dim lighting, but she can still feel the heat of his hand like a brand over her.

“Sorry, Ino-san,” Yoshi drags her gaze away. “But I think that’s work talk. I won’t discuss it when I’m not working.”

“Oh, but—“ Ino tries to speak.

“Good for you,” Nanami says brusquely, raising his tumbler in her direction. “That’s a healthy way to live.” He takes a long drink to punctuate his statement.

Yoshi likes Nanami a lot. He’s so terribly straightforward that it’s impossible to misunderstand him. And from what she can tell, he doesn’t care much for jujutsu sorcery either.

“I’m not interested in your fighting ability,” Nanami continues frankly. “What’s it like in New York? I’ve never been to America.”

“It’s very different if you’ve never left Japan,” Yoshi answers, eager to forget all about Gojo’s behavior. “What do you want to know?”

He steeples his fingers, all business. “I’ve heard mixed opinions about the food quality.”

Yoshi bites the inside of her cheek to avoid laughing. He looks so serious about it. “Um, you can get just about any kind of food in New York. Both in restaurants and grocery stores. But you need to know where to look. I’ve always liked the Jamaican food in Manhattan, but I can’t find the same places in Queens.”

“I don’t really know the difference between those places,” Utahime remarks, looking apologetic. “I thought New York City was just Manhattan.”

“No, Manhattan is only one of the five—well, they’re something like special wards, yes?” Shoko glances at Yoshi for affirmation.

Yoshi nods thoughtfully. “I don’t know the exact translation. You can think of it as five cities under one name. Manhattan is the main island that people know. I live in Queens, which is across the river…”

They ask her the usual getting-to-know-you questions that Yoshi is familiar with. She tells them how old she is—Utahime gasps and calls her a child, and then apologizes for it when she sees the look on Yoshi’s face—and that her father was Hispanic. She explains that she speaks Spanish fluently because of the neighborhood she grew up in. She tells them about coaching baseball and the other odd jobs she’s had in the past.

“You must’ve been a terrible waitress,” Gojo says teasingly, when she recalled that short-lived era.

Utahime shoots him a glare, quick to Yoshi’s defense. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she snaps.

He just looks at Yoshi. “I can’t imagine you serving others, smiling at everyone you meet,” Gojo continues thoughtfully. He gives an exaggerated shudder. “That’s just wrong.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Utahime argues. “She’s polite.”

Yoshi shakes her head mutely, still chewing on a bite of food. “I was a terrible waitress,” she says curtly. Gojo cackles with delight. “I’m much better at baseball.”

“Did you grow up playing it?” Utahime wonders.

“Yeah. I still play, actually. I was supposed to join a club team this autumn,” Yoshi can’t help but sound wistful. “Maybe next year.”

“What position?”

“I—“

“She’s a pitcher,” Gojo answers before she can get the words out. Yoshi throws him an exasperated look, and Utahime chastises him for interrupting.

“Wait,” Nanami says slowly. “I don’t mean to offend, but… don’t women play softball instead of baseball?”

“Not always,” Utahime disputes, picking at the edamame beans. “I played baseball in a co-ed team as a kid. It’s harder to find them as you get older, though.”

“I can’t play softball,” Yoshi admits.

Nanami frowns. “Can’t?”

“Why not?” Utahime looks surprised.

“Well, technically I could, but…” Yoshi sits back and touches her shoulder. “I can’t pitch underhand like they do in softball. I injured my—this part—“ She points to her rotator cuff. “I hurt it when I was younger. But, I can throw overhand without a problem. And I like being the pitcher, so… softball doesn’t work.”

Yoshi rolls her shoulders back, feeling the the slight tension in her muscles. Many people have told her to play softball instead, so Yoshi’s always had this answer prepared, but something about it always rattles uncomfortably at the back of her mind.

“What happened to your shoulder?” Nanami asks. “Were you in an accident?”

For a moment, Yoshi dwells in the emptiness gathering at the forefront of her thoughts. And before she can lie and agree with Nanami’s assumption, she says, “It wasn’t an accident.” She remembers the startling pain, and a vicious rage rising from her chest. A grip tightening on her, hard, like a python squeezing its prey. Frigid air that condenses into mist as they speak.

C’mon, kid—

Yoshi lets the memory drift away. “I was just a dumb kid. I picked a fight with someone I couldn’t beat,” she says plainly. “I learned my lesson.”

“Not to pick fights?” Shoko guesses with a lazy smile.

“Obviously not,” Gojo scoffs, stirring the ice in his glass. “She learned how to get stronger. Did you all forget that she beat me up in Germany?”

“I thought she didn’t beat you?” The other teacher points out dryly. “Changing your story now, Gojo?”

Gojo pulls a face and sets down his drink. “No, you’re just twisting my words ‘cause you’re as nosy as the council—“

“I got away without getting killed,” Yoshi cuts in carefully, eyeing the sorcerer at the far end of the table. “That’s really all that happened in Germany.” She blinks at him. “I’m sorry, but what’s your name? I’ve forgotten it.”

He waves a hand, dismissing her apology. “Oh, that’s okay. It’s Kusakabe.“

Yoshi nods, determined. “Kusakabe-san, right.”

“Ah, give up on it. You’re never going to work with him,” Gojo says loudly. He leans toward her, resting his chin in one hand. “He takes missions out in Tōhoku whenever he’s not teaching the second years. He’s never around.”

Yoshi frowns at him. “But I teach them too.”

“You train with them. That guy covers history class or something,” he explains with exaggerated disdain. Kusakabe replies something about actually teaching them multiple school subjects that the kids need to graduate, but Yoshi doesn’t hear it.

Her eyes linger on Gojo. His face looks a bit rosy. He’s talking loudly, but he does that often enough that Yoshi didn’t notice it. The real giveaway is that he’s finally finished his glass.

The waitress returns a few minutes later, ready to take more orders.

“What do you think?” Kusakabe turns to Utahime. “This doesn’t feel like the night for sake.”

Utahime’s nose wrinkles up. “I’ll stick with beer.”

“I’ll have a highball whiskey,” Shoko points to something on the drinks menu for the waitress. Nanami orders the same one.

Yoshi asks for another lemon sour, and Gojo copies her order again. She steals a look at the other sorcerers, watching their reactions curiously. Utahime and Shoko look like they’re having a silent conversation over it.

Yoshi leans to her right and quietly asks Nanami, “Is he bad with alcohol?”

He hesitates. “He doesn’t usually drink,” Nanami admits. “Because of the taste, supposedly.”

So he is a lightweight. Yoshi never would have guessed it. The drink must be sweet enough to cover up the taste of the alcohol. Before the waitress leaves, Yoshi asks her to bring a pitcher of water too.

–/–/–

[Previous][Next]

A/N:

Yoshi thinks she's borrowing this watch.

Thank you to everyone that's commented on this fic lately, it means the fucking world to me. It's fuel to keep posting even when I'm swamped with other things in my life. I really appreciate every single person that reads this fic <3

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